Order was restored at the scene before long. New York City police, paramedics, and representatives from the airline and insurance companies all arrived in quick succession.
Now that the professionals had taken over, Daisy—the knockoff version—knew it was time to disappear. But little Lorna kept stealing glances at her. They'd never met, yet a psychic signature couldn't be faked. Even in her fragile state, the girl had recognized Daisy immediately—someone who shared her kind of power.
"Help me... please don't leave yet..." Lorna's voice was barely a whisper, so faint you'd miss it if you weren't paying attention.
Daisy had come back precisely to help her, just as she'd discussed with Hank back then. Mutant gene activation triggered by emotional distress was showing a clear trend toward younger and younger cases.
A thirty-year-old adult manifesting was one thing. A ten-year-old child was an entirely different story.
Lorna was small and frail, looking utterly alone in the world. Had Daisy never learned about her, that would've been that—but it was happening right in front of her, and she wasn't about to walk away.
Of course, the girl's good looks were also a contributing factor. A bit unpolished, sure, but the genetics were strong. Lorna had flawless skin, bright eyes, and gleaming teeth—she was clearly going to be a stunner.
Helping a little girl didn't conflict with Daisy's personal code. If today's incident had been caused by some random old man, old lady, or vagrant, she'd have been home eating dinner already.
Daisy reassured Lorna through their mental link.
After a short wait, the maid arrived by car, having received Daisy's message. Posing as the legendary FBI, Daisy prepared to take Lorna back for "investigation"—but her parents seemed to have different ideas.
"Where are you taking this freak?" Lorna's stepfather had a full beard and dressed reasonably well, but his tone was anything but friendly.
Lorna's birth mother looked like she wanted to comfort her daughter, but the man held her back firmly.
Daisy took a step back strategically, letting them inspect her credentials one more time. "Or would you prefer to come down to the field office and discuss this there?"
The man shook his head like a rattling drum. The FBI? That wasn't exactly a place ordinary working folks visited voluntarily. Absolutely not. They could talk, sure—but only right here at the scene.
Daisy graciously agreed and led the maid, along with the family of three, to a quiet spot for a proper conversation.
"Allow me to introduce Matsumoto Maki. Maki, show them your bar card." Daisy introduced the maid first.
Americans had this peculiar ingrained belief: while lawyers might not all be good people, they were almost stubbornly convinced that lawyers would never knowingly break the law. After the two adults thoroughly verified the maid's credentials, they both visibly relaxed. Facing the supposed FBI had put them under enormous pressure.
To further bolster their negotiating position, Daisy helpfully added, "Ms. Matsumoto is quite well-known in New York's legal circles. You're welcome to check with any lawyer you know."
And she really was well-known. Skye Data had been tangled up in lawsuits for the past two years. Through a steady stream of privacy violation cases, the maid had become acquainted with practically every practicing attorney in New York.
Now that Daisy had connections to the President, the backing of S.H.I.E.L.D. as official cover, minimal moral reservations, and a willingness to deploy intimidation tactics that would make a mobster proud against plaintiffs—all these factors combined gave Maki a win rate that was frankly terrifying. It was hard not to know who she was.
Lorna's stepfather actually did know a paralegal. He made a quick phone call and confirmed the maid's standing in the legal community. She was a force to be reckoned with! An elite of this caliber wouldn't bother scamming a nobody like him. Lorna's stepfather was largely reassured.
"Since there are no objections, let me get straight to it. This child—" Daisy started, then paused. She remembered the name Lorna, but had completely blanked on the last name.
"Lorna Dane. I'm her mother, Suzanna Dane..." Lorna's mother seemed to feel guilty for being useless during the crisis. Her voice choked as she spoke.
Little Lorna glanced at her mother, who turned her face away.
Daisy nodded. "Right. Lorna Dane isn't suited to living among ordinary people. You're both aware of that, aren't you?"
The stepfather shot Lorna a look of barely concealed disgust. "You're going to take her away? Run experiments? Or what?"
Daisy was momentarily speechless. The FBI had truly been demonized by the general public—though that actually worked in her favor.
Keeping Lorna with this family would obviously be a disaster. Her plan was to hand the girl over to that bald Professor Charles in a few days. Seeing his old friend's daughter, Charles would surely be delighted, right?
But she couldn't make guarantees. Magneto's reputation among mutants was far from stellar, and Professor Charles had to consider the broader implications. If taking in Magneto's daughter sparked a full-blown conflict, he'd most likely refuse.
"That's classified. I can only say that once our investigation is complete, we'll place her in a specialized school designed for people like her. So—"
Before she could finish, the stepfather jumped in eagerly. "I agree. That sounds perfect." He shot his wife a hard look. "Whatever paperwork you need, I'll sign."
The negotiation was absurdly straightforward. The man gave up custody of Lorna without a second thought. As for where this legendary organization called the FBI was taking his stepdaughter, or what they planned to do with her—he couldn't have cared less.
The moment Daisy mentioned that the government would cover all future living expenses and tuition, and that he wouldn't have to pay a cent, he agreed to everything on the spot.
"The relevant documents will be mailed to you within a week. If you have no objections, I'll be taking Lorna now." Daisy felt neither joy nor sorrow at the man's behavior. This was simply how things were here.
Premarital pregnancies and single-parent households were everywhere. Lorna's mother actually counted as one of the more responsible ones.
Plenty of young women were too busy partying to even realize they were pregnant, only panicking when their bellies started showing. Those who could get an abortion did; those who couldn't had no choice but to deliver.
Children born under those circumstances were raised without any real emotional bond. Outright abandonment was far from rare. America's much-touted free-and-loving children's homes were scattered everywhere—not because of any great compassion, but because the environment demanded it.
Daisy's own past had been no happier than Lorna's. Saddled with the name "Skye," shuffled through three different last names in two years, the original Daisy had long lost count of how many foster families she'd been through. Without blood ties, the kind of hostility Lorna faced from her stepfather was the norm, not the exception.
Lorna's mother could only weep on the sidelines. Her stepfather dragged his wife away, and neither of them said a single word to little Lorna—as if she simply didn't exist.
"Come with me. Are these your things?" Daisy pointed to a backpack on the ground. Lorna's mother had retrieved it from the plane for her—perhaps the only memento she'd ever leave behind.
Where the family of three had been flying, and what they'd planned to do—none of that mattered anymore.