The newest Level 7 agent in the room was Hill. She'd previously held Level 5 clearance with Level 8 access privileges, but for reasons Daisy didn't understand, Fury had revoked the elevated access and bumped up her official rank instead.
The two women never discussed work during private time, so the specifics remained a mystery.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'll keep this brief. Apprehending the fugitive designated 'Hulk' is a military operation, but the Hulk now poses a direct threat to civilian safety — which makes it our problem too."
Fury's single eye swept the room. He was hoping someone would volunteer.
Nobody was that stupid. Every agent in this room had seen the Hulk's combat footage. Tank shells bounced off him like mosquito bites. This wasn't an enemy you could overwhelm with numbers or outmaneuver with tactics.
The HYDRA contingent was especially eager to avoid notice. Pierce had adopted the glassy stare of a man in the early stages of dementia. Crossbones was rubbing his lower back with a pained grimace. Sitwell didn't even need to fake it — he'd been sweating since he walked in, and the sweat hadn't stopped.
Nobody spoke. The room fell awkwardly silent.
A few of Fury's trusted people looked ready to step up, but he glanced at Coulson's unremarkable face and thought better of it. Sending him in only to get one-shotted would be a waste. Besides, Coulson's last assignment — the Stark liaison — had been a disaster: six agents killed, thirty-five civilians dead during the Iron Man versus Iron Tyrant battle, over two hundred injured, and property damage through the roof.
Like Daisy and Victoria Hand, Coulson had been formally reprimanded and was currently benched.
As for Agent May, Hawkeye, Black Widow — Fury felt they were all a notch below what this mission required.
His gaze settled on the only superhuman in the room. "Agent Daisy Johnson, what's your take on the Hulk?"
What he really meant was: Can you take him?
Of course she couldn't. The Hulk was a walking cheat code — practically invincible. But she wasn't about to waste an opportunity to make an impression.
Agents only respected strength. Since she couldn't reveal her powers yet, she'd lean on her other advantage: knowing the future.
Daisy spoke with a faint smile. "I've reviewed Agent Victoria Hand's logs and mission reports. This military-designated 'Hulk' doesn't seem all that hard to deal with, in my opinion."
The room stirred. Victoria Hand's teeth nearly cracked from clenching. Using her reports as a stepping stone — right in front of everyone.
"Let's hear it." Fury didn't care about their rivalry. As director, subordinate infighting was practically a perk.
Daisy activated the office's 3D holographic display, filtered through several options, and projected a cross-section of a human brain.
"This is a standard human brain," she said, pointing to the diagram. "The Hulk is still human. His cognition is still governed by this organ."
"Agent Hand's report noted that the more damage the subject absorbs, the stronger and more violent he becomes. The way I see it, that's entirely driven by emotional escalation in the brain. If we reverse the process — suppress the emotional response — we can make him progressively weaker until an ordinary person could defeat him."
The military hadn't shared the intelligence that the Hulk reverted to Bruce Banner once his rage subsided. Daisy could only pretend not to know. But her analysis was airtight, and several agents were nodding along.
"Modern science has established that different wavelengths of light on the visible spectrum can influence the human brain. All we need to do is build a few spectrum emitters, hook them to adequate power supplies, and aim them at the subject on site."
She added an analogy. "Think of walking into a nightclub. The music starts, the lights pulse, and before you know it you're feeling excited. Same principle — light stimulates arousal. We just reverse the output frequency, ramp down from high to low, and we lower the brain's excitation level. Cut off the source of his power at the root."
The theory wasn't something she'd invented. It was established science — hardly cutting-edge.
What she didn't mention was the part that mainstream science hadn't figured out yet. Pure emotional suppression was a temporary fix — a compressed spring. The next time the Hulk lost control, the rebound would be even fiercer. That conclusion came from Professor Xavier's research. When it came to the human brain, no one on Earth surpassed him. But the old man kept his findings close to the chest, and the outside world knew nothing.
By Daisy's estimation, if the Hulk was captured, General Ross would spirit him away like a prized possession. The odds of S.H.I.E.L.D. keeping him were virtually nil. She had no reason to solve someone else's problems.
The assembled agents were fighters, every one of them. When it came to killing, they were second to none. But their science education had been returned to their teachers long ago. Most of them hadn't followed half of what Daisy said, yet her confidence was convincing.
And from the sound of it... this mission didn't seem all that difficult?
Crossbones looked back at Pierce. If all we have to do is set up some lights and grab the target, this is a cakewalk. Should we volunteer? Bring the Hulk back for research?
Fury considered for a long moment. His own scientific knowledge was similarly lacking. Daisy's reasoning sounded solid, but it also sounded... too easy.
Build a few laser lights. Point them at the target. Done?
The cost couldn't be more than two hundred dollars. And here he'd been planning to deploy an aircraft carrier, advanced weapon systems — the works. He'd strong-armed the Pentagon into approving a 5.5-billion-dollar operations budget for this.
Congress would never have signed off on that figure. The Department of Defense had to dip into its own slush fund. General Ross had practically staked his entire political career as a full general to secure that funding. And now someone was telling the old man two hundred bucks would do the job? He might keel over on the spot.
Fury had drafted his own multi-theater battle plan — air, land, sea coordination, fighter jets, missiles, even orbital weapons. Today's meeting was supposed to be a war council: multiple departments, joint operations, the agency's finest shoulder to shoulder. All of it, apparently, for nothing.
He stared at Daisy's guileless expression and struggled for words. After a painful silence, he managed: "Agent Johnson, your theory is... forward-thinking. For the sake of operational certainty, could you provide a live demonstration?"
Daisy was no Tony Stark or Hank McCoy — she wasn't an engineering genius — but jury-rigging a modified laser light was well within her abilities. She nodded without hesitation.