Daisy hadn't expected to run into anyone out here either — let alone someone she recognized. At least, someone famous in Kenya.
"Ms. Ororo Munroe?" she called across the gap.
By now Ororo had already joined the X-Men, operating under the codename Storm. S.H.I.E.L.D. had a file on her. Daisy just hadn't expected to find her out here in the middle of nowhere, picking on a male lion for fun.
The lion, apparently sensing Daisy had his back, let out a deep, indignant roar. The female joined in immediately. The cub scrambled out of the cave and added its own small voice to the ensemble.
Storm ignored all three of them. Being identified by name by a complete stranger in the Kenyan wilderness clearly wasn't a comfortable experience. Her expression shifted toward something careful.
"Who are you?" There was a hint of wariness in it.
Daisy raised both hands, palms forward. "I've spoken with Professor Xavier by phone. I'm with the government."
It wasn't much of a reference. Storm's guard eased slightly — government personnel were at least a known category — but not by much. The government wasn't automatically trustworthy. And "I've spoken with Professor Xavier" wasn't exactly a difficult bar to clear. Plenty of people had. The food delivery drivers who showed up at the mansion probably had, too. That didn't mean any of them could block a lightning bolt one-handed.
The wariness held, but there was no real hostility in it. Ororo had fired that bolt because she'd assumed Daisy was in danger from the lion — clearly she'd misjudged the situation. These three seemed to be on fairly cozy terms with the stranger.
She gave a small nod and turned to leave.
Daisy watched her go, quietly weighing her options.
Ororo's appearance had introduced a small variable into her plans.
The Munroe family had roots in Kenya stretching back generations — something close to a lineage of weather-witches, carrying down a living tradition of elemental power. Storm wasn't just a mutant. She was a sorceress. Every generation of her bloodline had carried the ability to influence weather, though in her case, the ancient magical inheritance had fused with her mutation and produced something considerably greater.
As the heir to a thousand-year line, coming back to Kenya occasionally to play local hero and distribute aid to the displaced was entirely understandable from Daisy's perspective.
With the lion business apparently settled — saving the male from a lightning strike had wiped the slate clean — the family warmed up quickly under Daisy's deliberate attention. Within half an hour, all three were relaxed and playful around her.
This time, no coercion. Daisy pulled out her phone, lined up the shot, and got a photo of all four of them together. Even if Hill never responded, she could keep it for herself.
The male was still skeptical of the phone, but after Daisy's explanation, he held still with visible reluctance and let himself be photographed.
The rain came down all night.
Daisy woke at dawn to clear skies and the specific silence that follows a storm. She had ground to cover.
The family saw her off. Wakanda wasn't unkind to animals, but it was Panther territory — not lion country. The further in they went, the more uncomfortable they'd be.
She said her goodbyes warmly. The two adults were fine; it was the cub she was going to miss. It was soft, round, and dopey in exactly the right way. She was half-seriously planning to take it home on the way back.
But she had a job to do first. That was a return-trip problem.
She killed another goat, shared a proper meal with the three of them, waved them off, and walked north alone.
"Where are you going? There's nothing but wildlife up there."
She'd barely covered a quarter-mile when she found Storm sitting on a rock by the path, waiting.
The lightning encounter had given Daisy an idea, and she'd been reworking her approach since. Her original plan was to get into Wakanda by posing as someone in pursuit of the mercenary crew. But Storm changed the math. Storm and T'Challa went back — childhood friends, years of history, an eight-year relationship that would eventually make her queen of Wakanda, before the superhero civil war tore them apart in spectacularly dramatic fashion.
If Storm knew the way in, and Daisy arrived with Storm, she'd enter Wakanda's upper circles directly. A lot of things got easier from there.
But she couldn't rush it. The groundwork had to be laid properly.
"I'm following a lead." As a film company owner, Daisy had plenty of practice at this part. She kept it minimal and let Storm fill in the blanks herself.
It worked. Storm clearly knew something about Wakanda — she'd noticed the direction Daisy was heading and thought it looked suspicious enough to get up at dawn and intercept her.
A regular Kenyan civilian, she could have sent her away with a few words. But this was political. She'd confirmed with Professor Xavier that Daisy was connected to S.H.I.E.L.D., and S.H.I.E.L.D. was not a complication to handle carelessly.
"I'm not — I have no intention of interfering with whatever you're doing," Storm said, choosing her words with obvious care. "But some of the local tribes have customs that can cause... friction, if you're not aware of them. It's easy to run into trouble—"
She was threading a needle and not threading it well.
Daisy cut her off by producing her S.H.I.E.L.D. credentials and holding them out.
"I respect everything Professor Xavier has done to build understanding between mutants and the general population. But I can't let that stop me from doing my job. Please step aside."
"No — I don't mean to suggest — I'm just curious—"
Storm looked at the Level 7 agent credentials and ran out of things to say. Her mind was clearly working through the implications: a senior agent, this far north, following a lead about advanced weapons in Africa. Was S.H.I.E.L.D. already aware of Wakanda? Was this a surveillance operation?
"I do have some contacts in this area," she offered carefully, settling into something that felt like a position of deference. "If you need information, I might be able to help."
Daisy decided the moment was right. She laid out the cover story.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has identified a clandestine organization that's been investigating something in this region. About ten days ago, a strike team entered Kenya and headed north. My assignment is to track them — determine whether their objective poses a threat to global security."
The relief on Storm's face was visible. As long as this wasn't a state-versus-state confrontation, she had room to maneuver.
She said she wanted to help. Daisy feigned reluctance, weighed it visibly, and agreed.
Storm was pleased — and was immediately caught between wanting to guide Daisy off course and worrying that redirecting a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent might create exactly the kind of international incident she was trying to avoid. In the end, she fell in beside Daisy and walked the true path with her.
Daisy fed her a careful mix of real and manufactured intelligence.
"This organization — we don't know where they got the information — but they believe there's a weapon somewhere on the African continent. Something with mass-casualty potential." She let a small, dismissive laugh into her voice, the kind that communicated polite contempt for the entire premise. "In Africa."
Storm's expression stiffened. She knew exactly what was in Africa. But she couldn't explain it without revealing things she had no authority to reveal, and she had no one to consult — she'd never told Professor Xavier about Wakanda.
The silence stretched. She smiled tightly and let Daisy continue.