Among all the women Daisy had encountered so far, if the competition were purely about size, the undisputed champion was her newest subordinate—Mockingbird Bobbi Morse, whose name even had "Bo" in it.
Next came Black Widow and Viper, and only then the tier that included herself, Hill, Sharon, and the maid.
Future Lorna, meanwhile, trailed them all by a comfortable margin.
Maybe I should feed this kid more papaya? Daisy mused. She also wondered if Lorna should eat more meat—the girl was already thin and barely touched it as it was.
It was well-intentioned, really. Daisy was already planning to develop an AI-driven algorithm once her artificial intelligence was up and running, one specifically designed to optimize Lorna's dietary plan.
So preoccupied was she with nutritional science that she completely missed the maid's subtle expression.
The maid had harbored a quiet thread of hostility toward Lorna from the start, though she'd hidden it well. Now, spotting the girl's shortcomings, she couldn't have been more pleased.
"Oh my, this one's a bit tight."
"How did this happen? I just bought this a few days ago and it's already too small?"
As if deliberately showing off, the maid went through swimsuit after swimsuit—pulling one on, taking it off, trying another, removing that one too. Each apparently constrained her in uncomfortable ways, prompting the occasional gasp of exertion. She kept herself busy for quite a while.
Lorna was sharp enough to catch on. She huffed and pointedly looked away.
Daisy ignored their little cold war and started changing on her own.
A good figure wasn't purely about measurements—it was about the total package. The knee as the golden-ratio midpoint between sole and navel. The navel as the golden-ratio midpoint from crown to ankle. The proportions of calves, thighs, and torso. The perfection of the hips. The lines of the waist and back. The subtle interplay of muscle definition. All of it combined into a whole. And having received the Cheetah Goddess's blessing and two rounds of physical enhancement, Daisy's overall physique was several tiers above ordinary.
Even natural beauties like Black Widow and Viper couldn't match her on pure physicality—though both women knew how to weaponize body language and expressions to devastating effect, an area where Daisy fell short.
Even Lorna, privately swearing to surpass Daisy someday, had to grudgingly admire Daisy's figure. She glanced down at her own "curves," and a wave of discouragement washed over her. That's... going to be a tall order.
Daisy selected a pale blue swimsuit and headed for the door.
"Miss, you should put on some sunscreen," the maid called after her.
Daisy glanced out the window. The sun was blazing. Her constitution made her immune to burns—Afghanistan had proven that—but sun protection was something she'd never actually considered.
According to the maid, Daisy had come back from Afghanistan at least two shades darker. Only recently, after weeks of staying indoors, had her complexion finally recovered.
That thought genuinely alarmed her. Ambitions of becoming Director were one thing, but if the prerequisite was getting a permanent tan, she'd sooner defect to HYDRA.
"Fine, hand it over." She took the sunscreen and applied it to her front. Her back required the maid's assistance.
Two strokes in and something felt off. Why were there two pairs of hands on her?
She turned to find Lorna's hands exploring as well. "What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled.
"Curious," came the deadpan reply. Then Lorna gave her backside a squeeze.
Being groped by a preteen was... an odd sensation, to say the least. Daisy promptly used gravity control to fling the curious child aside.
She then helped the maid apply sunscreen in turn. As for Lorna, the girl declared she'd never swum in the ocean before and would sit this one out.
The three of them followed the villa's garden path down to the shore. Walking barefoot across the sand, gazing out at the crystalline blue water, the feeling was nothing short of glorious. Daisy's swimming technique was merely average, but with her physical capabilities, the coastal currents posed no real challenge.
She told the maid to stay near the shallows, then followed the current out into the open Atlantic.
Swept up in the thrill of it, she strode across the water's surface and hurled a punch toward the sea.
The vibration wave struck the ocean with tremendous force. The water compressed violently, carving out a vacuum trench five meters (about 16 feet) deep and ten meters (roughly 33 feet) wide. The displaced water on either side surged upward—ten meters, then nearly twenty (over 60 feet).
Three consecutive strikes and the wave wall climbed higher and higher, morphing into a colossal barrier of water looming over the surface. One punch from behind and it surged forward. A strike from the left and it careened to the right.
Like discovering a new toy, Daisy hammered away—left, right, again and again—until the wave had grown into a fifty-meter-tall (about 164 feet), kilometer-wide (over half a mile) monster.
"That might be a bit much..." She eyed her handiwork with mild embarrassment. A wave that size hitting the shore would wipe her eighty-five-million-dollar villa right off the map.
"It's the open ocean. The energy will dissipate soon enough, right?" she told herself, then steered the massive wave eastward.
They said a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil could trigger a hurricane in Texas, didn't they?
She stared at the super-sized wave she'd just manufactured. It was definitely bigger than a butterfly wing.
Could this gigantic butterfly wing cross the Atlantic and cause a tsunami on Europe's western coast? She had no idea. Though she figured Storm was still in England, so things would probably be fine... right?
With the villa right on the coast, the initial awkwardness faded quickly. Two adults and one child—all three women found their groove.
Lorna had a streak of wildness buried deep in her personality. With nobody to keep her in check anymore, she played to her heart's content.
The maid channeled her inner ancient swordswoman, regularly heading down to the beach with her katana to practice.
The most disruptive of all was Daisy, who frequently flew beyond national borders to train her earth-shaking power on the open Atlantic.
But play didn't mean neglecting business. The supercomputer had completed its first phase of calibration at Stark Industries, and after a brief negotiation with Pepper Potts, Daisy arranged for the mainframe to be housed in her new villa. She'd already picked the perfect spot—the wine cellar.
Brewing wine in a Marvel universe where every day counted? Dream on. In a few years, it'd be a miracle if America itself was still standing.
The cellar was converted into a server room, laid out in a ring configuration. Forty computing cabinets, each the size of a double-door refrigerator, stood in neat rows while engineers worked feverishly on installation and calibration.
"This place is absolutely gorgeous!" Pepper had accompanied the engineering team for the installation and took the opportunity to tour the estate—reportedly the highest-value residential sale of 2008.
She couldn't stop praising the villa. But what she really appreciated was its location. One of them on the Atlantic, the other on the Pacific, separated by the entire breadth of the continental United States. Daisy and Stark, on opposite coasts, would never have to see each other. Perfection.
Unlike those cover models, Daisy had superpowers, deep scientific expertise, the looks, the figure, and an extensive network. She was, frankly, the perfect assistant for Tony Stark—which made her a massive threat to Pepper.
Had Daisy known what was going through Pepper's mind, she would've scoffed. That man and his terrible temper? Who'd want to deal with that? Only you would treat him like he's some kind of prize.