"We have to rescue Tony — whatever it takes!" Rhodey rallied his people hard, but Daisy could see it wasn't exactly landing.
She scanned the American soldiers assembled at the staging area. Every last one of them wore the same wooden expression. Talking to these guys about sacrifice, about how rescuing a defense industry billionaire would serve the national interest — complete waste of breath.
Did the U.S. military have elite soldiers? Of course it did. People like the Punisher from the Marines, or the Leopard from black ops — warriors who could take on ten opponents at once even when caught off guard. But those types were rare. Daisy watched two soldiers sneaking glances at their phones and knew immediately: these guys were useless.
She wasn't under Rhodey's command for this operation — strictly advisory — but for the sake of appearances, she briefed her own agents on the mission parameters.
So here was the rescue team in its entirety: one Air Force colonel with a handful of desk jockeys, and Daisy with a handful of information-processing agents. That was it.
The agents assumed the soldiers were all Rambo incarnate. The soldiers looked at the agents like they were James Bond. Both sides had wildly inflated expectations of the other, and both were fully prepared to coast.
Daisy found the soldiers even worse than she'd imagined. Two were on their phones. The rest were debating sunscreen brands in hushed voices. She couldn't help herself.
"Colonel Rhodes, what exactly is your department? If it's classified, forget I asked."
He answered without hesitation. "It's not classified, Agent Johnson. I'm the head of Weapons Development."
Daisy's eye twitched. Head of Weapons Development. Which meant those desk jockeys were also from Weapons Development. Combined with her own team from the Information Processing division, both groups were spectacularly unqualified for a combat rescue. If you set aside her personal fighting ability, the idea of this crew extracting Stark from the Ten Rings was pure fantasy.
...
The Air Force was leading this operation, so they flew out on an Air Force C-17 bound for Afghanistan. The soldiers had brought plenty of equipment — crates and cases stacked floor to ceiling inside the cargo hold.
Comfort was nonexistent. Daisy thought this transport was far slower than a Quinjet, but she wasn't about to jump out and show off her flight capabilities. She buckled in and started reviewing the files on Stark's abduction.
It lined up with what she remembered. Eighty percent chance Obadiah Stane was behind it. Military informants reported that tensions between Stark and Stane had escalated sharply after the Ice Bucket Challenge.
Related to the Ice Bucket Challenge? Daisy scoffed internally. That had to be fabricated. A Republican conspiracy, nothing more.
Rhodey, to his credit, was a phenomenal friend. He spent the entire flight working the satellite phone — coordinating with base commanders across Afghanistan, clearing their flight path with allied nations along the route. A C-17 didn't have stealth capabilities; if they didn't notify everyone in advance, they risked catching a missile.
Once the logistics were handled, he came to discuss the operational plan with Daisy.
She obviously knew Stark was in a cave right now. Based on the timeline, he should still be unconscious. But whether her butterfly effect had shifted a piece of shrapnel by two centimeters (about 0.8 inches) and killed him outright — that, she couldn't be sure of.
When Rhodey sat down with her, Daisy was already analyzing potential hideout locations for Ten Rings operatives. In the movie, it was just a cave with no distinguishing features whatsoever.
And Afghanistan was nothing but mountains. Mountains meant caves — endless caves. Finding one unmarked cave that didn't even appear on any map was going to be extraordinarily difficult.
Factoring in that Stark had escaped the cave in his improvised armor, traced a graceful arc through the sky, and crash-landed in the desert, Daisy managed to narrow the search area somewhat.
Mountains on all sides. Narrow access routes in and out. Severe desertification beyond the mountain perimeter. They could focus their search on areas matching those conditions.
"Got anything?" Rhodey watched Daisy surrounded by military maps and satellite imagery at her feet, occasionally running calculations he couldn't follow. It all had an air of I-don't-understand-but-it-looks-impressive.
"Mm, I've got a rough search zone," she said vaguely.
Rhodey was quietly amazed. These intelligence agents really lived up to their reputation. While he was still completely lost, she'd already started narrowing things down.
"Where?" he pressed.
Daisy pointed at the map. "These kidnappers had enough firepower to annihilate American troops, which means their combat capability is exceptional."
Rhodey wanted to point out that wiping out a U.S. unit didn't necessarily prove much, but considering his own team's limited combat strength, he conceded the premise.
Daisy continued. "No tribe or organization has claimed responsibility, which means this is a covert armed group. Groups like that have a high probability of hiding in remote mountain territory."
"And they have significant numbers. My assessment is they're based near tribes that are hostile to American forces."
She drew a broad arc along the border on the map. "The highest probability zone is the Afghanistan-Pakistan border region. It's heavily mountainous, the local tribes are extremely insular, and it's always been territory the U.S. military hasn't penetrated."
Rhodey felt a headache coming on, but he had to admit Daisy's analysis was sound.
The problem was that this exponentially increased the mission difficulty. Finding a group of armed militants on tribal territory that was actively hostile to Americans — the obstacles were overwhelming.
But for the sake of rescuing his friend, Rhodey swallowed his pride and started begging every base commander he could reach for assistance.
Assistance with what? Escorting their thoroughly unprofessional rescue team, of course.
The base commanders naturally refused at first, but Rhodey's persistent appeals eventually wore them down. They agreed to provide some support.
The original twenty-person team swelled to fifty. Rhodey requisitioned two CH-47 transport helicopters from the Air Force, plus three multi-purpose tactical vehicles — essentially military-grade Humvees.
There was also a modified RV. Daisy had insisted on it — for the female soldiers and agents to bathe in the field.
They also added two Black Hawk helicopters and a substantial arsenal of heavy weapons. Naturally, the hardware came at a cost. Both Rhodey and Daisy declared they were broke and would bill Stark afterward — assuming he was still alive.
Male personnel numbered forty including the colonel. Female personnel numbered ten, including Daisy herself, Mockingbird, three female agents, and five female soldiers.
They loaded up supplies and departed from Bagram Air Base, following the Afghanistan-Pakistan border to search for signs of the armed group.
With strong mobility and heavy firepower leading the way, the soldiers' nerves settled somewhat.
To boost morale, Rhodey made a promise on Stark's behalf: every soldier would receive a cash bonus upon successful rescue of the billionaire.
When they first entered the desert, Daisy found it somewhat novel. Endless yellow sand stretched to the horizon — vast, silent, and desolate, as if they'd entered an uninhabited world.
Of course, that was the view from inside the helicopter. Walking through the desert on foot, sinking with every step — that would be a very different experience.