Reporting In

There were two buildings each to the side and rear of the main building, connected by passageways in the middle, forming a ring of three buildings—separate yet connected.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s main building was not filled entirely with agents. Ordinary people were there as well, and staff members actually made up a large proportion. Like white-collar workers at any major corporation, they were all busily handling their own affairs.

As she entered Triskelion Headquarters, Daisy instinctively sensed several gazes focusing on her. She took off her sunglasses. She needed to conceal herself outside, but there was no need here. She would be a regular here for the next few years—was she supposed to keep her face covered and wear sunglasses every day? That would be far too conspicuous.

Entering S.H.I.E.L.D. naturally meant entering Hydra's sights. She had anticipated that long ago.

Unless she spent her entire life peacefully as an ordinary person, she was bound to attract attention. Rather than scramble to deal with it later, it was better to hide in plain sight.

The surrounding staff acted as though they had not seen her and continued with their work.

Daisy knew the test had already begun. If she wanted to learn, she had to prove that she was an elite. Otherwise, she would not deserve outstanding instructors, professional training, or rigorous teaching.

In another world, which student from a prestigious university had not fought their way across a single-log bridge to become an elite? Ordinary knowledge was taught to ordinary people, and elite knowledge was taught to elites. Daisy could accept that.

She found a chair and sat down calmly.

Even the Daisy from the original timeline had been able to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. remotely. Now that she was inside S.H.I.E.L.D. herself, it would be ridiculous if she could not accomplish anything.

She hacked into the network and quickly searched for information, finding her destination in less than a minute.

"Child's play." She snickered softly, turned into a nearby elevator, took it to the tenth floor, then followed the corridor to the left.

After walking nearly eight hundred meters, another, slightly shorter building came into view.

The relaxed atmosphere here made Daisy feel much more comfortable. People of every skin color could be seen here. There were sharp-eyed trainee agents, as well as absent-minded bookworms still immersed in their own worlds.

There was no more testing once she reached this place. Daisy showed her credentials to a staff member, who verified them and handed her a room keycard.

Her room was on the third floor. She had specifically checked: the first and second floors were for men, while the third floor was for women.

The fourth floor and above housed classrooms, laboratories, and recreation areas, while the training facilities were underground.

"3106." That was her room number. After finding it, she pushed open the door and went inside.

It was a two-room suite, complete with a toilet and bathroom. The accommodations looked quite good.

She set down her backpack and rushed into the bathroom immediately. She needed to check for cameras and listening devices.

She had no agent training whatsoever, but she had her power. Electronic devices and everyday objects vibrated at different frequencies. If she was careful, she could find them all.

She searched the bathroom twice, then scanned every inch of the toilet and bedroom—the floors and walls alike.

The results were not bad. S.H.I.E.L.D. officially had not tampered with anything.

She turned on the room's air conditioning, took off her coat, and felt hungry again after using her power for so long.

She touched her abdomen, where the beginnings of abs were already visible. Her previous self had barely exercised and even had a little belly fat. Now, thirty percent of this great figure came from working out, while the remaining seventy percent was entirely due to starvation!

There was a set of combat clothes on the bed: a dark navy top and pants, a black belt, two women's sports bras, socks, and combat boots.

The fabric was very light yet remarkably durable. Apparently, it also had a camouflage effect against infrared detection.

Daisy found it rather amusing. After going in circles, it seemed she had somehow returned to the days of military training.

She picked up one of the sports bras. It felt comfortable and had no strange smell. Still, wearing something like that all the time would be uncomfortable, so she did not put it on.

After changing into the combat top and pants and putting on the combat boots, she desperately needed to go eat a huge meal!

The moment she opened her door, the door across from hers opened as well.

"Hi." A blonde girl stood opposite her, about the same height as Daisy and looking quite friendly.

"Hi." Daisy waved back. The other girl seemed to have arrived earlier than she had, so Daisy extended her right hand and introduced herself. "Daisy Johnson."

The blonde beauty extended her hand as well. "Sharon Carter."

Sharon Carter? Daisy was a little surprised. That surname was far too famous. The love story between Peggy Carter and Captain America was practically a household tale here. Curious, she asked, "Carter? Are you related to Ms. Peggy Carter?"

The blonde beauty laughed cheerfully. "Just a coincidence."

Daisy nodded in understanding, inwardly grumbling, Who are you trying to fool? Still, Peggy Carter's niece was really young. The old lady was already ninety, yet this niece looked only a few years older than Daisy.

The Carter family was interesting too. The aunt had fallen for Captain America, and this niece had inherited her predecessor's aspirations by getting involved with Captain America as well.

As a descendant of one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founders, Sharon Carter did not have the airs of a second-generation heir. She was sunny and cheerful, with a proper sense of restraint in how she treated people. She was neither abrupt nor gave the impression that she had ulterior motives.

"Daisy, you just got here, right? Have you signed up for classes yet? I'll take you there." The blonde beauty was very enthusiastic. Daisy was too embarrassed to say that she was starving and only wanted a good meal right now, so she forced a smile and let herself be dragged off to choose courses.

As they walked, she watched trainees appear from time to time around them. This place did not feel all that different from an ordinary university.

Sharon Carter was very familiar with the place and kept describing the academy's courses for Daisy's consideration.

"Sharon, what courses did you sign up for?" Daisy asked.

The blonde beauty put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest. "I signed up for all of them. I suggest you do the same. No matter what career you pursue in the future, all these courses are actually useful."

Daisy largely agreed with that. If it were not for learning knowledge, how nice would it have been to loaf around in New York? Why come here to suffer?

When the staff member brought up the full list of courses, even Daisy, who had endured the course bombardment of her previous life, felt a headache coming on as she looked at the densely packed curriculum.

The academy had eight fields of study: the Field Operations Department, Science Department, Innovation Department, Espionage Department, Agent Department, Strategy Department, Combat Department, and Diplomacy Department.

Some subjects overlapped under the broad framework. For example, espionage and agents shared quite a few similarities, but espionage emphasized obtaining information while minimizing exposure, whereas agents were judged by whether they completed their missions.

The Science Department and Innovation Department were not exactly the same either. The Science Department focused more on theoretical research, while the Innovation Department involved the manufacturing of advanced weapons.

Each field also branched into countless subcategories. For instance, every field had language requirements and required a basic level of personal combat ability. Some required psychology, while others required polymer materials science. The eight fields each had their own emphasis. Being a good agent was not simply a matter of knowing how to fight.