The next morning, Daisy pinned her hair up, put on her black-framed glasses, slipped into the pale pink suit and slacks, clicked into her heels, and walked into Stark Industries' Manhattan headquarters with James Wesley on one side and Maki Matsumoto on the other.
No one met them at the entrance — that would've been too much to expect. They confirmed the appointment at the front desk and settled into the waiting area.
Daisy pulled out her tablet, crossed her legs, and ran a few of her programs quietly. Within minutes, she'd slipped into Stark Industries' internal network.
She knew JARVIS was out there — of course she did. But Stark was too smart to plug a cutting-edge AI into his entire corporate infrastructure. Too many people worked here, too many eyes. He wouldn't expose something that advanced to all of it.
She was right. A careful probe found no trace of JARVIS. What she did find, after a few probing minutes, was a department-level administrator login she could slip into without a ripple.
She browsed the benefits package for a moment — genuinely impressive, even by her standards. The bar was high, but people still clawed their way in from every direction.
The data downloaded in under ten minutes. She nudged Wesley with her elbow.
"Software engineers, statistics specialists — some real talent in here that Stark passed over. Pull a few and bring them into our ranks." She tilted the tablet so he could see.
These rejected applicants had tried to cram their entire lives into their résumés in the hope of making an impression — work history, awards, previous employers, home address, family situation, all of it. Each entry came with a Stark Industries HR department evaluation attached. It wasn't a definitive hiring guide, but having a major corporation's professional assessment of a candidate's weaknesses and strengths made the filtering process considerably faster.
The former mob strategist scanned through without expression. Several résumés caught his eye — he planned to make calls the moment they were back.
No legitimate business leader would acquire job applicant data this way. They both knew that. Neither of them cared.
Half an hour passed. Then Pepper Potts came clicking into the lobby — impeccably dressed, silhouette sharp, heels precise.
She greeted Daisy with a warm handshake. "Mr. Stark worked very late last night — he's on his way now. Please, follow me to the meeting room."
With which woman this time? Daisy thought dryly. She had no patience for playboys. But she kept that to herself, smiled pleasantly, and followed Pepper to the conference room.
Watching the assistant navigate a boss who cycled through women the way other people cycled through coffee, Daisy couldn't help but get curious. She kept her tone casual.
"What's Mr. Stark like? I'd love to hear your take, Ms. Potts."
It was a blunt question, but Daisy's face made it forgivable.
Pepper thought about it. "Mr. Stark is extraordinarily gifted. A genuine genius. I believe he's capable of changing the world."
A few minutes after they'd settled in the conference room, the door opened. Obadiah Stane walked in.
Strip away the villain résumé, and Obadiah was an impressive human being. Tall and broad-shouldered, articulate without effort, exuding the particular authority that only came from decades of earning it. He didn't lean on his age or his position — he listened, adapted, and engaged with new ideas without condescension.
They exchanged pleasantries. Daisy found herself genuinely warming to the old man. Whatever his agenda, he maintained his composure through sheer force of character rather than affectation — no frequency manipulation, no performance. Just calibrated, polished presence.
Then they got to business, and the edges sharpened.
"Data analytics?" Obadiah's eyes narrowed slightly. "Can a computer actually predict the trajectory of human behavior? I have my doubts."
He'd seized control of the conversation before anyone else had settled. Pepper and Maki fell quiet almost immediately — the room had narrowed to three people: Daisy, Wesley, and Obadiah.
James took the first swing. "We aggregate data to understand what a target wants, what they're chasing — and then deliver the exact product to the exact person who needs it most."
Obadiah shook his head. "You're not answering what I asked. There's no substance there."
Daisy stepped in. "We live in a digital era. Bank records, medical histories, email patterns, academic transcripts — all semi-public, all computable. We assemble those fragments into a coherent portrait of an individual, then use it to serve them exactly what they're looking for."
She caught herself mid-sentence with a strange jolt. That explanation had come out perfectly, almost automatically. It was because she'd essentially just quoted the theoretical framework behind Project Insight.
Obadiah was sharp enough to see what she was pointing at. He wasn't interested in world domination the way HYDRA was — but his vision extended further than most. Her words opened a door in his mind.
"What would it take to acquire your company?"
Daisy smiled. "This market is too large for us to own, and too large for Stark Industries to own either. A weapon in the hands of a small country makes people wary. The same weapon in the hands of a major power makes people fight back."
Obadiah ran through the logic quickly. It was crooked reasoning, but it held together. Stark Industries had held the top position in weapons manufacturing for years — add a data analytics arm that custom-tailored product delivery, and competitors would unite against them out of sheer survival instinct.
There was already the matter of Justin Hammer. Government support for Hammer Industries had been barely concealed lately — a deliberate effort to build a counterweight to Stark.
He weighed the likely reactions from all sides and quietly abandoned the acquisition idea. But he had no intention of walking away from big data. He'd pursue it separately, under his own name, away from Stark Industries' political gravity. Quieter, cleaner, fewer headaches. He needed to see how the methodology actually worked first, though.
"Miss Johnson has exceptional vision," he said, with a small inclination of his head. "Please forgive my earlier skepticism. Let's talk collaboration."
To give them a live demonstration, Daisy's team was authorized to connect directly to Stark Industries' mainframe and run a real analysis.
Her algorithm outpaced the current state of the field by at least three to five years. There was no realistic risk of it being reverse-engineered quickly.
Parameters: Stark Industries' scale and revenue, cross-referenced against active conflict zones worldwide, filtered for maximum supply-demand imbalance.
They waited while the system worked.
The conference room door swung open with more force than necessary.
Navy blue suit, plaid tie, signature goatee. Tony Stark walked in at a brisk clip.
His gaze swept the room. Daisy caught the sequence: Wesley, dismissed instantly. Maki, a fraction of a second's consideration, passed over. Then the woman in the center — and that was where his attention landed and stayed.
Navy blue suit. Plaid tie. That particular goatee. Tony Stark strode in with the confidence of someone who had never once doubted he was the most interesting person in any room he entered.