Young people who came into power and immediately thought they were invincible — who'd solo-charge into enemy territory waving their heroism like a flag — that was an American cultural product through and through.
Madame Gao found Daisy deeply irritating. She had passed irritating and arrived at something closer to hatred.
She had disciplined herself for four hundred years without a single day of rest. She had earned her power the hard way. And yet here was a girl who simply mutated and suddenly had strength to match her. What gave her the right?
In Gao's estimation, Daisy — proud of her ability, confident in her power — had a high probability of charging in to rescue her allies. The moment she appeared, Gao was certain she could deal with her permanently.
She'd mobilized everything she had for today: her personal resources within the Hand, and the forces loyal to her alone.
The Hand, like HYDRA, stretched across the globe. The difference was a later start — it was still clawing for position in fringe industries, not yet at the center. And like HYDRA, the five Fingers were far from unified internally. Gao needed to keep reserves in play, watching her back against her peers. She couldn't spend everything on one ambush.
Two hours past the scheduled start of the banquet. Not Daisy. Not even a shadow of anyone.
The three captives were each thinking something different.
Shingen Yashida was bitter — he felt Daisy wasn't taking him seriously as an ally.
Mariko was quietly relieved — relieved that Daisy hadn't walked into it.
Wolverine was mostly indifferent. A beautiful woman coming to save the big tough man? Where did that leave his dignity? Besides, he doubted Gao could actually kill him.
Gao was preparing to call the whole evening off and have the prisoners escorted out when a red-clad ninja stumbled through the main entrance, lurched halfway into the hall, and dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, never to move again.
She paused.
The ninja's skin had begun to weep green fluid. A faint, acrid smell drifted across the room.
"Poison."
Four centuries of surviving assassination attempts had given Madame Gao instincts that bordered on supernatural. She read the threat in an instant, turned, and moved — at minimum, she needed to reach a covered position.
A soft rushing sound, and more than a dozen green-clad ninjas dropped from their concealed positions simultaneously. Bows up, arrows nocked, perfectly coordinated. The volley came at her from the front all at once.
Gao's left knee bent. Her right palm swept a half-circle and thrust forward, projecting an invisible wall of force — the incoming arrows shattered against it.
She didn't bother with theatrics. One forward roll took her through the gap in the following barrage of gunfire. She pressed against the wall near the door, threw down her cane, and her expression went cold and sharp.
"Viper." She called into the room, voice like gravel. "Still hiding behind your little poisons instead of facing me yourself?"
Quick as she was, her hands were already moving — soldiers' blades went to the throats of all three captives. Wolverine and Shingen represented serious combat potential; she hadn't gone to all this trouble to let the enemy use them against her.
From their concealed position, Viper and Daisy weren't moving. They weren't that naive.
Viper spoke quietly into the comms. Her people began closing in on the fortress from all sides.
Between her charm and her toxins, she'd assembled a genuinely eclectic roster: notorious mercenaries, Japanese yakuza, and a contingent of ninjas. Multiple nationalities, multiple weapon sets, no unified command structure — every unit fighting its own fight.
Gao's forces were similar — pulled from wherever they could be staged, scrambling out of their positions now that the pre-set traps had been neutralized.
Among the ninjas, the one thing that cut across professional courtesy was faction. Red and green, and apparently they had history. The moment the two groups saw each other, it was as if they'd come face to face with the person who'd killed their fathers. Ninja weapons of every kind started flying. Ten seconds in, people were dying.
"They know each other, right?" Daisy watched the exchange and genuinely couldn't follow the logic. "So why are they going for the kill immediately?"
"They've always been like this," Viper said with a small shrug. "Ancient rivalry. Some kind of professional code, maybe — if you can call it that."
It wasn't the time for a history lesson. Both women had changed into combat gear.
Daisy was still in standard S.H.I.E.L.D. field uniform — she didn't have anything else.
Viper, on the other hand, had a look.
Dark green, high-polymer material — very boss-like at first glance. On closer inspection, the garment protected exactly the wrong places and exposed exactly the wrong places. The front was held in place by straps crossing at the throat. It flowed into pants below. The parts that technically needed covering were technically covered. Everything else — shoulders, upper arms, the entire back from shoulder blade to waist — was open air.
And no, she was not wearing anything underneath. From a certain angle, parts of the mountain range were clearly visible.
Plenty of skin. But her palms and thighs were covered quite securely.
Daisy stared. Even vibranium wouldn't help you if you were dressed like that. What was the point of putting it on? A sports bra and leggings would give her more protection than this high-tech fashion emergency.
When Viper offered to have one made for her, Daisy turned it down without hesitation. She'd rather wear the S.H.I.E.L.D. field uniform — lower tech by miles, but at least it actually defended something.
The battle hit full intensity fast. The ninjas were locked in a real war. The mercenaries, watching their own casualties mount, started pulling out the heavy hardware.
Grenade launchers opened up. A sniper shot took out one of Viper's ninja squad leaders — headshot, clean. One of Gao's coordinators, a heavyset man with a thick beard, got targeted and shredded.
Gao had retreated to cover and was already shouting instructions in that grating, broken-gravel voice. On Daisy's side, an argument had broken out over who was going to be the one to step out first.
"Your teleportation gives you more options. You go draw her out — I'll set up the ambush."
"Wrong. Your toxins are the real weapon. You go. Didn't you hear her calling your name?"
Viper lost the argument by half a step. She had no offensive charge capability; there was no getting around it.
Displeased but committed, she drifted out into the open, unhurried and deliberate. "Madame Gao. It's been too long. You've helped yourself to the Yashida family fortune, haven't you? Wouldn't it be polite to share some of that?"
Gao looked at her and felt a flash of pure irritation.
She'd set a trap for a rabbit, and a fox had shown up instead. For someone who prided herself on being the hunter, this was galling.
That Daisy and Viper might be working together didn't register as a real possibility. S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA? Cooperating? Unthinkable.
She read Viper's appearance as collateral fallout — someone else chasing the Yashida inheritance, drawn in by the scent of the prize.
Unlucky. She silently cursed the development. But she hadn't survived four centuries by panicking when plans went sideways.
Gao had no particular fear of Viper. The woman's enchantment was useless against her, and she could shrug off most toxins — whatever trace amounts got through, her qi could drive out. She didn't know about the Chthon contract. In her estimation, Viper wouldn't survive one clean palm strike.
Those cold, triangular eyes moved with calculation. A thought stirred beneath the still surface.
Why not end this woman here and now?