Author's Note: Hey guys. I'm terribly sorry about not releasing this in March, it was quite hectic, I'll say. Here's the next chapter: I don't really have any new updates on life or story things so let's just get into it.

Latest Guest: Close enough to the actual reasoning, yeah.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or The Last of Us as they belong to Microsoft/343 Industries and Naughty Dog.

"Quotes."

Thoughts

"Radio Messages and/or Reading"


Command Center, Boston Quarantine Zone

August 10th, 1008 Hours, 2033

The officers of the understrength 25th Marine Regiment stood silent at parade rest in front of Major Collin. The grizzled man paced back and forth behind his desk while holding a radio to his ear, listening intently at whatever information may be being relayed to him. Another moment passed, then two, then three before his movement paused and stood still.

"Ok. Collins, out." Is all he said before placing the radio on his desk. Turning to face his slowly dwindling officers, a smirk, no, a smile was formed on his face. "Men, we have, thankfully, made contact with the Army." He said, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned on his desk.

The room stood silent for only a moment before the room erupted in cheers from the hundred - or - so officers tightly packed inside. High fives, hugging, and even some tears were shared amongst them. A wave of emotion collided with them as something they had once long lost came rushing back: hope. Optimism and motivation rose when the station operation commenced, but hope was still shaky overall. After it was all said and done, everyone in the quarantine zone had been holding their breaths for even the slightest response from their southern neighbors.

"I know, I know. You all will have the rotated days off to celebrate, but we still have business to attend to." Collins said in a calm, yet loud voice. "The second order business is our new MARSOC unit. A few days ago we actually had our first Marines transferred into the unit that's, as you know, under Lieutenant Spencer's command. Congratulations to those lucky few men and women and may whatever god that's left have mercy on their souls. Now during my chat I was able to get a hold of Colonel Mackenzie who was first and foremost shocked to hear from us. They thought we had been destroyed which is why they didn't send anyone to check up on us these last few months. After that awkward conversation ended, I was informed that the situation in Atlanta was steady with most of the local rebel groups and Fireflies had been eliminated for a few weeks now. They'll also be sending us a convoy of supplies that we've been low on for a while. That includes food, ammunition, medical, gas, and, most importantly, manpower."

A hand suddenly shot up from the crowd of officers. "Sir, did you tell them about the girl? And what about Hartfield? Is the Air Force still running?"

"Great questions. For the girl, the Colonel is skeptical to say the least, but he hasn't ruled out the possibility. We've seen this thing mutate a dozen times already, what's a dozen more?" The grizzled Major leaned on his desk. "As for the Air Force, they lost contact three months ago and have yet to reach them. All attempts at sending detachments had failed to yield any results, so the Colonel had to act like they, alongside us, fell and were left standing alone. Now that we've reinitiated contact, the Colonel believes there's a slight chance Hartsfield is still alive. However, one step at a time. A fresh supply convoy will be here in a couple days, so we're settling down in the meantime. Any questions, comments, or concerns?" Collin inquired of his subordinates. Surprisingly, no hands were raised. No doubt because they wanted to be on break for as long as possible.

Following the cramped pile of Marines leaving the office, Daisy made her way outside of the command building. As the warmth of the sun kissed her skin, she stopped for a moment and ran a hand through her shoulder - length blonde hair. I would have killed to see the Marine's in the UNSC smile this much about something. She stopped for a moment, looking at her clenched fists. Even without my armor, I'm still a Spartan. And while nothing may ever beat the brothers and sisters I bled with in basic, it's nice having a sense of family optimism again. She smiled. Taking a deep breath and exhaling smoothly, she made her way over to the barracks her new unit was provided.

Stepping inside the brick building, she found the first five - man squad milling about at their bunks. One of them, Lance Corporal Hammers, was thankful he was facing towards the doorway.

"Lieutenant on deck!" He shouted, jumping to his feet and issuing a salute.

The others followed suit within milliseconds. Daisy slowly walked up to each Marine and observed them, looking up and down for any discrepancies. "At ease." She nodded. "Ladies and Gentlemen, you mingled around a little from what I could see just a few moments ago. Each of you spout a fact about someone you didn't know; call it an ice breaker."

A moment of silence struck, making Daisy raise a brow. "Private Spike is a crack shot." Rose stated, which got Daisy's nod of approval.

"Sergeant Butcher was wounded in his last mission." Frank responded in turn.

"Private Martinez has an annoying competitive side." Hammers stated.

"Lance Corporal Hammers is suspiciously quiet for an E - 3." Frank shot back.

"Corporal Rose has been Sergeant Butcher's second for seven months now." Kat said last.

"Good, good. Now that introductions are out of the way, let's have a proper discussion. As you all know, I'm Lieutenant Spencer." Daisy said, pacing up and down the barracks. "I'm not one for speeches so I'll keep it simple. All of you have already met me to some degree with some of you having shed blood alongside me. From this point onward you all are Raider's, black - ops, aces in the hole, and the brass has high expectations for all of us. It is my duty to ensure that you, and those who come after you, are regarded as the best of the best, capable of excelling in every field of operations. Consider this your lucky day Marine's!"

"Hoorah ma'am!" The first wave of Raider's replied in an excited unison.

"Now drop to the floor and start counting. We're going to work until I get tired." Daisy said, taking off her equipment and flattening herself into the push - up position.

Daisy's small troop moved in unison as she led them through a set of push-ups. Soon losing count as time ticked by in a crawl. If a Marine was unable to follow through, Daisy would hold in whatever position was held last and wait for the slacker to either regain strength or burn their muscles to continue. This unfortunate and frankly god awful process continued until the ground they held was soaking with sweat. After the odor pungent enough to leave at least two of her Marines occasionally coughing, Daisy decided to let up and end the torture.

Standing up, careful not to slip on the disgustingly wet floor, Daisy filed the Marines into a single column. Placing herself in the front, she had each Marine behind her holding the opposing shoulder of the one in front of them. "Ten laps. Unit, march." Daisy declared. Beginning the march, she led them up and down the barracks through the slicked up floor. Each member of the team could feel their grip slipping on the shoulders of their friends'. Muscles shook from a seemingly simple task that progressively got longer with each mistake that was made, adding five more sorrowful laps every time.

After the two long hell's Daisy forced them to endure, she finally allowed them a sixty second water break. Running towards whatever bottled water, fountain, or faucet they could find, the five of them gulped water like their lives depended on it, and in the moment, they did. Going for a small drink herself, Daisy stretched her shoulders after taking a few sips, letting the cool water course through her veins.

Once her Marine's sixty seconds were up, Daisy called them back into line. "From what I've seen over the past few hours, it seems even through 'hard' times you all get back up and follow through, for now. Now comes the fun part: marksmanship." The slightest of smiles formed on Katherine's lips, something Daisy easily caught and sent a death glare her way, passing an unspoken message. "You will all be required to make an eighty percent or higher accuracy rate. Anything less and we will have a one - on - one session until you meet or surpass me." Daisy paused, looking at each of them before she continued. "For your sake, and the sake of Boston's munitions stores. Don't. Miss. Understood Marine's?"

"Yes ma'am." They responded with a slight nervous undertone.

Filing into marching order, the five personnel of the reinstated 1st Marine Raider Battalion were led towards the ever - so - familiar firing range. The jingling of a door chime brough the familiar sight of Master Sergeant Zoey leaning out from behind the caged counter. Seeing Daisy for a third time in two weeks made her raise a brow, but that curiosity was dropped once she saw five familiar faces following in behind her.

"Good afternoon ma'am. I think I already have an idea; but what can I do for you?" The Master Sergeant inquired with a smirk.

"Afternoon to you too armorer. We'll need five carbine's with two magazines per weapon. I have some observations to do with these five lucky souls." Daisy happily responded to the Sergeant.

"That so? Well, good luck to you and best of luck to them." Zoey responded, heading back to the armory that sat just out of view. A few moments went by, beads of sweat dripped from the foreheads of Daisy's victims. Soon, the dutiful Master Sergeant returned with a small cart of the requested supplies and placed them on the table.

"Thank you Sergeant, as you were." Daisy nodded to Zoey. Grabbing the weapons, she passed them out while keeping the magazines to herself. Stepping through the door off to the side of the entrance, they entered the firing range. "On the line, six feet apart." Daisy's voice echoed through the hollow room.

Doing as ordered, each Marine lined up while Daisy placed two magazines at their feet. "Drop to the floor and load your weapons." Her voice boomed, six clicks of the bolt carrier releasing immediately followed. "I want fifteen rounds down range. If there are any more or less, we will be having that one - on - one session. Once you've met your round requirement, cease fire and shift into a crouched position. Remember, eighty percent." She paused for a moment and took one last look at the small line of infantrymen. "Stand by. . . contact!"

A cacophony of 5.56x45mm resonated through the scrapped room with a second or two pause every few bullets. The pressure was on as fear and stubbornness ran through her new Raiders. As the guns went silent, a clear tension was held in the air. At a distance of one hundred twenty five yards, Daisy carefully inspected the paper targets.

"Eighty one percent, eighty seven percent, ninety four percent very good…" She thought to herself, doing the division calculations scarily quick. "... eighty three percent, seventy seven percent, seventy nine percent. Mendez, Rose, you have work to do."

After replacing the targets with fresh sheets, she jogged back behind the firing line. "Ready, stand by, contact." She ordered. Standing behind her crouched Marine's, she watched them for a second time let loose on the helpless paper targets. Once their magazines ran dry, they lowered their carbines and held silently. As Daisy began to look over the targets, she noticed they were better; not considerably, but up anywhere from two - five percent meaning all five of her Raiders passed, something she proudly nodded at.

"Stand straight and reload. Fifteen rounds down range, again, cease fire once you've done so." Daisy ordered in a serene and calm voice. "Stand by. . . contact." Yet another line of fire went off with even more promising scores. The echoes of the weapons firing bounced off the large chamber's walls, soon followed by the jingle of the jumping brass as they hit the concrete floor. Inspecting the third wave of peppered paper, Daisy counted a more substantial increase in percentages compared to the first. "That's more like it, Marines. Good to see all of you doing better after a round of warm up. Now the fun part." Daisy smirked.

"Gunny, collect everyone's weapon minus Private Mendez and Corporal Rose and bring them back to the Master Sergeant; make sure to bring five more magazines and retrieve my carbine when you come back." She ordered Butcher. As the older man hurriedly collected the firearms, Daisy stared at the remaining four personnel. "It's not uncommon for your accuracy and precision to improve as you warm up to the weapon, after all, a gun is a tool. That being said, my expectations for all of you present remains the same regardless of the predetermined conditions. Now, most of you did well this time; so Spike, Hammers, you may have a seat behind the line. Rose, Mendez get back on the ground."

A minute or two went by before the double doors of the firing range opened once more, revealing Gunnery Sergeant Butcher's return. His arms held six more loaded 5.56 magazines and a singular carbine slung over his back. "Here you go ma'am." He said, handing the carbine and one of the magazines to Daisy before handing two to each Marine.

"Thank you Gunny, now take a seat with Spike and Hammers." Dropping to the prone position herself, she loaded a magazine with a distinctive click of the bolt closing. "I'm going to demonstrate what I expect from you two first, then, whatever score I achieve, you're going to double it as close as possible. Surely that won't be too hard after firing sixty warm up rounds." She teased her subordinates.

Taking aim with her weapon, its light weight and simple iron sights made target evaluation easy. Softly pulling, her first round soared right through the center of the paper target. Smirking, she continuously pulled the trigger without lull matched every following round with the first, the recoil being non existent thanks to her augmented body and smaller than UNSC standard cartridge.

With the simplicity of a perfect score that the five others in the room just witnessed made their jaws drop while their heads spun. Even being the oldest man in the room and having seen so many come and go, Butcher could not help but stare at Daisy, completely enthralled. "Where has she been all our lives?! Whatever lab she was bred in I want to find because holy fuck!" He screamed internally, a newfound respect forming for the Lieutenant.

Glancing over at Rose and Mendez, Daisy could see a little fear in their eyes even if they forced the feeling down. With a worried gulp, Mendez took a few breaths and steadied his carbine, praying to every god he knew to help him in this moment. The first round that sailed from the barrel hit the target near - perfect center; keyword: near. His heart started to rapidly pound before taking another gulp of air and concentrating on slowing down his breathing. Taking a moment to rest his magazine on the floor, the makeshift monopod worked like a charm as his second round sailed true and left a poked hole through the center written X.

Daisy's brow furrowed as she subtly nodded in approval. She knew the impossibility of her clearly intimidated Marines ability to make a perfect score. So she had refused to provide them with a timed limit… for now. As Mendez continued his slow, methodical pull of the trigger, most of his first thirty rounds were grouped within ten inches of the X. After he loaded his second magazine, fumbling a bit as the sweat dripping from his forehead obscured his vision, his attempt at further redemption paid off as his second magazine resulted in a pattern similar to the first.

Once he rested his weapon on the cold floor below him, Daisy inspected the paper target turned Swiss cheese. "Out of a maximum score of one hundred twenty, taking into account every inch is roughly two points, not bad Mendez; one hundred seven, a thirteen point divot." She thought to herself. A cold silence hung in the air as Daisy returned behind the firing line and took Mendez's weapon system, checked to be sure it was clear, and handed it to Gunnery Butcher who immediately sauntered out of the room.

Heading over to Rose's left side, she kneeled down next to the smaller woman and simply gestured her hand forward. The more seasoned Corporal, although still intimidated by the task at hand, took a few breaths similar to Mendez and adjusted the notches of her iron sights to zero perfectly on the target. Taking her first shot of many, it soared right through the X, providing a sense of ease to the young woman.

Her follow up shots remained relatively close, if not closer, than Mendez's own; however it was still not outright perfect compared to Daisy's. When her first magazine ran dry it had been nearly two minutes since their punishment had begun, with her last round striking close to the hole ridden X. Pressing her thumb down to release the magazine, she turned to Daisy to see what type of expression she held. What she found was the strongest poker face she had probably ever seen.

Taking a few breaths through her nostrils, she loaded the second magazine and let the forward click of the charging handle reverberate through the spacious room if only for a second. Expending her second round of bullets was rather similar to her first and Mendez's second, with some rounds perfectly adding up while others strayed and rather grouped around the central point. Not to redo Franklin's mistake, she pulled back the bolt to show clear as Daisy stood up and inspected her results.

"I must say Rose, you outdid yourself comparatively to your previous attempts. A one hundred eleven is slightly better than Private Mendez's and is within ten of the maximum. Good job." Daisy thought, nodding to herself. Heading back to pick up Rose's weapon, she handed it to Gunnery Butcher who had made his debut for the third time since he left the barracks; leaving the range to turn it in.

"You two did well. Mendez, you scored one hundred seven out of one hundred twenty, while Rose, you scored one hundred eleven out of one twenty. While you both did good, I can't say I'm proud because I'm really not. I gave you both an untimed limit to complete this and I'm not at all impressed with how long it took each of you to clean out your magazines." Her imposing figure stood over the two, much smaller, and very much intimidated Raiders. "Your total time's were one minute fifty seven seconds and one minute thirty five seconds for a total of three minutes fifty three seconds. Overall, all of you should spend more time here when you're on leave. Now that I'm aware of your marksmanship abilities, let's move on to hand - to - hand." Daisy said with an unsettling, devilish grin. "Raiders, form up!"


Marine Raider Barrack, Boston Quarantine Zone

August 10th, 1139 Hours, 2033

A right hook quickly landed on the lower chest, earning a pained grunt from its recipient. In retaliation, a left jab was thrusted forward aiming for the monetarily exposed face, but was caught and blocked before it made contact. Mendez suddenly found his arm trapped as he was yanked off his feet before his back aggressively hit the padded foam below. Trying to push Hammers off, he raised opposing arm to throw something, anything, at the man, but found his shoulder pinned to the floor. Now thoroughly held down, he started squirming to try and free himself.

"Enough." A voice firmly called out. Daisy walked over, helping both men to their feet. "Mendez, that is the fourth round in a row that you've lost to others not as strong as you. Tell me, do you know why that keeps happening?" Daisy scolded him.

"Because I'm not as agile ma'am." The Private responded with a sore voice.

"Wrong. It's because you refuse to be as agile as your opponent. Yes strength is important, but if you cannot move fast enough to exploit that ability, you may as well be brought to the ground… again. And if you're up against a not so friendly opponent, that ground will be six feet under." She lectured the man. "Hammer, I admire your ability to play defensively, however your offensive capabilities are lacking. While you are getting hits in, you're not aiming them precise enough. Instead of the chest, go for the ribs and force your opponent to keel over. Rather than the eye socket, go for the neck or rear of the jaw. Both have a higher likelihood of knocking your combatant down or out."

"Would you be kind enough to demonstrate for us ma'am?" Mendez asked.

Daisy thought for a moment. One one hand, she knew this was a set up to get a short break; on the other, a visual example could go a long way in training. "Fine. But you only get one. Raider's, gather around me, six feet apart." She said, making her way over to the hanging punching bag. "Now, let's say my combatant is equal height to me. I'm going to strike here," She said, throwing a punch and leaving an indention in the leather that mirrored her head.

"That simple attack just knocked them out cold. And as I said, you could also go for the ribs." Following up with another attack on the punching bag, her arm was a blur for the Marines who only heard the crack of an impact. Retracting her arm, a hole the size of her fist had torn through the rough leather and the sand filling began spewing onto the floor. Not a bruise nor abrasion to be seen on her knuckles.

"Ma'am, permission to speak freely?" Butcher asked, his voice a little shaky.

"Go ahead." She permitted.

"With all due respect ma'am, what the fuck just happened? First, rumor has it you killed a bloater with your bare hands, then you score a perfect expert without your M4 even flinching, and now destroy a punching bag. Sorry ma'am, but no one is that good on a whim. How do you do it?" He asked, a confused and serious tone coming from his voice.

"If you must know Gunnery Sergeant, for me to disclose that information I would first need permission from the Major. But considering everything you've seen and lack of effort on my part to not show it too often, I suppose I'd be willing to make a call." Rubbing her chin, pondered the idea before sighing. "Stay here, pair up, continue training. I'll go talk to Collins." Daisy said, taking her leave.

"Oh my reckless ass is about to get reprimanded badly. I can't be worse than when I ran away though, Parangosky wanted to smoke my ass out of existence like Ralph. Pheww, I got lucky that time. Who knew that bitch Halsey would actually come through with something?" She thought to herself, making her way to the front of the building.

The ever - so - attentive receptionist who had greeted her on her first day of the job sat in a small swivel chair behind a rounded desk and old, at least to her, computer. Even with her sheer mass, Daisy's boots barely thudded on the floor allowing her to get right up to the receptionist before being noticed.

"Oh, Lieutenant! What can I do for you?" She asked.

"I need you to get me on the line with Major Collin. I have a request I'd like to ask." Daisy vaguely replied.

"Of course. Just give me a moment." She nodded, reaching for a phone that sat off to her side and dialed. "Good afternoon Major, I have Lieutenant Spencer with a request. … Yes sir. Lieutenant, he's giving you three minutes." She informed Daisy who took the phone.

"Thank you, Staff. Could you step out of the room until I'm done?" Daisy requested politely.

"I don't see why not, assuming this has some confidentiality to it." The Staff Sergeant receptionist obliged, heading to a back room.

"Lieutenant, you wanted to speak with me?" Collins' voice came over the phone.

"Yes sir. It's about the augmentations. To put it bluntly… I haven't been doing my damndest to conceal them. Especially when it comes to heavier targets like those bloaters from the station." The Spartan admitted. "Gunnery Sergeant Butcher's called me out on them and I'm calling to request permission to declassify the information to my Raiders."

An audible sigh came from the other end followed by a long groan with the scratchy sound of a hand rubbing flesh and stubble. "Lieutenant, do you know what kind of position that puts us in if your secret gets out?" The major sounded exasperated and a bit irritated. "I gave you an order and you're throwing it around all lackadaisical. Tell me Lieutenant, what do you think is the best course of action here?"

"To be honest sir, my Raiders are going to find out more sooner or later the longer I work with them. Most, if not all, UNSC personnel knew of Spartan capabilities even if we were exaggerated."

"Goddammit Spencer." Collins said through a heavy sigh. "Fine, I'm giving you permission to brief them and ONLY them about the augmentations. If any of this information spreads beyond this immediate circle, your ass's special privileges are being revoked. Understand?" He emphasized at the end.

"Crystal, sir." Daisy responded sharply.

"Good. Don't let my generosity go to waste. Out." Collin's ended before abruptly hanging up.

"Oh fuck me." She muttered worriedly, "That could have gone a lot better." Daisy thought sarcastically. Placing the phone back on the counter she called for the Staff Sergeant, letting her know she could come back to her station.

Taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of her nose, Daisy made her way back to the gymnasium. The creak of a metal door swinging open alerted the five huffing and sweaty Marines inside. Once they saw Daisy enter the room again, they stopped their sparring matches, grabbed some water, and sat down.

"Well, good news Raiders." Daisy announced, clasping her hands together. "As special forces under my direct jurisdiction, you get to be briefed on a little insider information. However, if anything said here leaves this room, you're immediately booted. Am I understood?"

"Yes ma'am." They all said unsynchronized.

"I can't hear you Marines. I need an audible understanding of my orders." Daisy said in a louder, more aggressive tone.

"Yes ma'am!" They shouted, the reverberations extending into the hallway. Daisy let a small smirk grace her lips before it was quickly wiped away.

"What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?" She thought repeatedly. "Gunnery Sergeant Butcher, to properly answer your question, in simple terms: I am a super soldier. Now," she raises her hand in a gentle stop motion, "hold your questions because they'll probably be answered beforehand. What that means is that I have enhanced muscle mass, reaction time, agility, endurance, bone density, and perceptual senses far better than that of any normal human."

"Exhibit A of such augmentations would be, of course, the killing the bloaters in hand to hand combat, as well as the murder of the punching bag. It is also why I was able to keep my M4 stable without issue at the firing range. My increased muscle mass and thicker bone density allowed my own body to act as a stabilizer for the weapon. As for my accuracy, that can be attributed to years of training working alongside my enhanced eyesight allowing me to visually identify the specific area I last hit."

"Can you show us something cool you can do with your augmentations?" Mendez blurted aloud.

Daisy paused a moment before relenting. "Fine. But only for demonstration purposes." Making her way over to the dead punching bag, she grabbed onto the chain link that suspended the sagging bag in the air. Pulling with barely any effort, she easily snapped the links and made the leather bag fall to the ground with a thud with sand spilling out as Daisy walked away from the mess. "There you have it Marines. Your dear Lieutenant has all the requirements to be the best soldier she can be. Now, any other questions?"

Butcher's hand was the first up. "Why not tell everyone else about this? You clearly told Major Collin's since he's our highest superior at the moment, but why keep it a secret from the rest of us?"

Daisy sighed. "Very valid question, Jeremy. It's because I, we, wanted to make sure no one can get a definitive leg up. If everyone knew about my secret, there'd be a target painted on my back by anyone wanting to know more or outright hunt me. And that is a situation we cannot divert reasons to maintain."

Rose then raised her hand up high. "If you have all these special powers, where did you get them?" She asked curiously.

"In a lab in some undisclosed location that doesn't matter anymore. I won't go into detail about how I got them, just know that they hurt like a motherfucker going in." Daisy described, pulling up her sleeves and showing them the faded surgical scars on her arms.

Kat lifted her arm up next, a look of concern on her face. "Were you forced to have those done to you? It looks like they ripped your body open."

"No. I was a volunteer for the process before everything topside went ape shit. Last thing I remember before everything went black were the doctors surrounded by a security detail in case anything went awry." She fibbed with her cover story.

"Why did you decide to have the processes done? If they hurt so much and you can't tell anyone even now about them, why get them at all?" Hammers asked.

Daisy opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her body stiffened, muscles tense, and her eyes stared past the man at nothing in particular. The memories of the cold display of heartlessness Halsey showed them when she woke up in the Pelican on that fateful day. She, like a good many of the others, cried when they found out what had happened. Her escape with Ralph and the others brought a moment of reprisal, but that was quickly shot down after she made it home and found her dying clone.

She couldn't sleep after that. After Halsey, and by extension ONI, found her, she capitulated, accepting who she now was. The nightmares during the rest of her training only made things worse, with the only ones she could confide in without judgment being her new brothers and sisters. Things had shifted after the war started. By then she'd hardened, fallen in line, and become a Spartan through and through. Then, just two years into the war, the evacuation and her eventual demise on Sargosso brought her here. Did she still regret ever becoming a Spartan? In hindsight: no. There couldn't have been a better opportunity. That doesn't mean there weren't challenges along the way.

"That's… too personal of a question. Just know they're useful now that we're here." She reassured him with a low voice and soft nod.

Our duty as soldiers is to protect humanity. Whatever the cost. John's words spun in her head over and over. How did she even arrive on this Earth over a week ago? That's something she'll ever know. But that didn't matter anymore. She traded one threat to humanity for another, and she'll be damned if she let this one kill her so easily.

"Any further questions?" Daisy squeaked, the authority in her voice virtually deceased.

No hands were raised. Whatever questions they had were erased by her long, unnerving pause. None of them wanted to kick a tilted bucket and find out what happened.

Daisy raised a brow. "No? Well then, back to training." Focusing on the next objective, she pushed the memories to the back of her mind. The time would come when she would face her demons, but that could wait until this new war was won.


Author's Note: And there we have it. Small beginnings for what will be a very large driving force for the Military. We also saw Daisy finally say something about her augmentations to the little guys. What to y'all think about that?