Crossing Over

New York, Saint John's Church School.

This school stood on the west bank of the famous island of Manhattan, beside the Hudson River. The place commonly known as Hell's Kitchen was right here.

Though Manhattan's prosperity was known to all, the fact that it was called Hell's Kitchen made it obvious that this was no good place.

After walking down the narrow street and pushing open the rusty iron gate, the peeling walls and numerous worn-out furnishings inside made one thing clear to any outsider: despite the grand-sounding name of this church school, it could not even rank among the top hundred locally, much less nationwide.

Against the backdrop of its rundown surroundings, the school's only saving grace was its relatively cheap tuition. Of course, there was a trade-off: cheap tuition meant plenty of theology classes, whether you liked them or not.

"You shall be steadfast and fearless. You shall forget your suffering; it shall be brighter than noon. Though there is darkness, it shall still be like morning. Amen." The elderly teacher ended today's lesson in the same tone he had used for decades.

The students immediately rose to their feet and replied in drawn-out, rhythmic voices, "Amen..."

Only after the old teacher pushed open the door and headed away did the cramped classroom regain its vitality.

Gentle sunlight streamed through the cracks in the windows. The students gathered in small groups, chatting about various topics. Deliberately or not, they had isolated a corner in the southeast of the classroom. It was quiet there, forming a sharp contrast with the surrounding noise.

Dappled light fell across her flaxen hair. Her nose bridge was high, and her mixed Chinese and Western heritage gave her features greater definition. Most striking of all were her large, slightly upturned eyes. Their pale amber pupils immediately brought words like wildness and pride to mind.

"Skye! Let's go eat!" Amid all the cold looks, only an energetic Blackie greeted her warmly.

The mixed-race beauty sighed helplessly. "I've told you three times already. Skye was a name I used so those foster families could apply for government subsidies. I've gone back to my real name now—Daisy Johnson. Got it? Say it again!"

Blackie was used to being bullied by her. She timidly repeated it twice before Daisy finally let her off.

The beauty named Daisy soon left the classroom as well. She needed to use the library's internet to look up some information.

Going from a failed male comic-book writer to a woman sitting in the corner of a classroom, muddling through hymns with everyone else, had taken her a full week to come to terms with.

She remembered sorting through a mountain of American comic-book material, then feeling dizzy and deciding to sleep for a while. The moment she fell asleep, she had arrived here.

There were all kinds of things to get used to—getting dressed, sleeping, language, eating, and countless other matters. Fortunately, the other students had always isolated her, so even if she acted a little strangely, no one noticed.

The three essential details after crossing over—time, place, and identity—had all been investigated clearly.

The time was July 2006, and the place was naturally New York. Turning from a man into a woman was a little embarrassing, but at least she had not become a lizard or a tree, nor had she been thrown into ancient times. The result was still acceptable. It was just that this world was a little off. This was a world with Captain America and Stark Industries. This was the Marvel world.

The identity part required time to investigate. As the saying went, thirty percent was fate, seventy percent came from hard work, and the remaining ninety percent was given by your parents. That was absolutely true in the Marvel world.

Having a good background and good bloodline mattered more than anything else, at least for most people.

As a former failed American comic-book writer, she had died after researching countless materials and thoroughly understanding every detail, then arrived in this world with her memories. The instant she crossed over, she realized that this body might possess a superpowered bloodline.

Daisy Johnson, codenamed Quake—those memories were crystal clear.

But was the body she had crossed into really that Daisy? She spent three days verifying it through various sources, proving that she was herself.

Her luck was not bad. She found an old note with her full name clearly written on it: Daisy Johnson. It was just that the previous owner of this body had always resisted that name and jokingly given herself the name Skye, without even a surname...

Her real name was Daisy, her former name was Skye, and she was mixed-race. Although this body's parents were both still alive, her current family status was listed as orphan. After comparing and screening the evidence from several angles, she truly was Quake.

In the perilous Marvel world, having superpowers and not having superpowers were entirely different things.

However, her ability was not triggered by age or emotional stimulation. She needed an alien technological product to guide that part of her genes into manifesting.

Her bloodline came from the Kree Empire, one of the three great rogue empires of the universe. During their early wars, the Kree needed vast numbers of cannon fodder, so they used genetic technology to modify some Earthlings as their source of soldiers.

Later, those Earthlings broke free of control and called themselves Inhumans. Daisy's bloodline came from the Inhumans.

Normally, they were no different from ordinary people. Only after being activated by something called a Terrigen Crystal could they gain superpowers.

The crystals came from beneath Attilan, the city of the Inhumans. If nothing had changed, that city should have been on the far side of the moon.

Landing on the moon? For Daisy, whose total savings amounted to only fifteen hundred dollars, that was an impossible task. If she could casually land on the moon, why would she need crystals? Why would she need superpowers?

Fortunately, heaven never barred every path. One crystal had been left behind on Earth and had eventually fallen into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands.

The moon or S.H.I.E.L.D.—which was easier? She thought it was the latter.

In a world full of danger, she needed power. For that, she suppressed her fear and prepared to plan an operation.

The previous owner of this body had left behind no combat-related abilities aside from a self-defense stun gun. However, her hacking skills were quite good. She had control of plenty of botnets and servers, and that ability had been completely inherited. It was currently Daisy's only usable method.

Three days later, everything was ready. She swiftly logged into her botnets and set up layer upon layer of disguises.

Only then did she make a call to her target through the internet.

Jasper Sitwell was her target.

This bald, bespectacled man of Indian descent was publicly a United Nations employee. In reality, he was a supervisor in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s administrative division specifically responsible for recruitment. His even more secret identity was that of a mid-level Hydra operative.

The Terrigen Crystal Daisy needed was stored in a special S.H.I.E.L.D. warehouse. This Baldy was an important helper for her.

As a fairly skilled hacker, finding Baldy's private phone number was not difficult.

Daisy ran through the entire process in her mind and finally confirmed that there were no mistakes. She opened her secondhand laptop, used cellphone tracking to locate Sitwell, and waited until he entered a public area. Then she hacked several nearby cameras and aimed them at observable positions before finally making the call.

Sitwell looked somewhat confused on camera. Very few people knew his private number, and he did not recognize the caller.

He warily glanced around. After hesitating for a moment, he still answered the call.

Daisy activated the voice changer she had prepared beforehand, turning her voice into that of a somewhat deep-voiced man.

"Agent Sitwell, Mr. Whitehall needs your help with something," she said bluntly.