Daisy felt a headache coming on.
Neither the “he” from her previous life nor the “she” from her predecessor had ever liked studying, but in this world, not studying simply wasn’t an option.
Almost everyone who excelled in this world had impressive academic credentials.
Iron Man, Hulk, Professor X, and Mr.
Fantastic were all either doctors or professors.
Even Black Panther had earned a Ph.D.
in Physics from Oxford University.
The villains were no different.
Doctor Doom, Doctor Octopus, and even Madam Gao, whom she had recently driven out of New York, were all exceptionally well educated.
Madam Gao even claimed to know “every” language.
Daisy’s greatest limitation at the moment was her lack of knowledge, and her Superpower was still in its early stages of development.
At first, she had only intended to study science, but after seeing courses on camouflage, hand-to-hand combat, electronics, and even advanced hacking techniques—something she was already proficient in—she realized something.
It would be a shame to pass up knowledge that couldn’t easily be learned anywhere else.
Knowing she was a newcomer, the staff member handed her several suggested study plans as if presenting a restaurant menu, each tailored to a different specialization.
Daisy skimmed through them.
There were at least fifty courses in total.
It felt as though two voices were arguing in her head.
One urged her to study only the essentials and rely on her Superpower to overcome future challenges.
The other reminded her how dangerous the future would be, and that the knowledge she gained now might save her life someday.
After weighing the options carefully, she asked Sharon, “Do you find it stressful to take so many courses at once?” Sharon hadn’t expected Daisy to be so ambitious.
Having trained since childhood, she knew exactly what path lay ahead of her.
Under her family’s guidance, she had followed a carefully planned curriculum from the beginning, unlike Daisy, who had only recently started down this road.
Sharon could handle every course because she already had a strong foundation, but she couldn’t assume the same was true for someone else.
Realizing her earlier advice might have been misleading, she thought for a moment before replying, “It’s definitely demanding.
You should choose based on your own abilities.
The tuition is also very expensive.” Noticing that Daisy wore neither jewelry nor makeup, Sharon assumed her finances were limited, so she used tuition costs as another reason to discourage her.
Daisy, who appeared carefree despite being quietly short on money, certainly wasn’t wealthy.
Fortunately, Fury had already promised that her tuition would be fully covered.
As far as she was concerned, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
was someone whose word could be trusted.
There was no financial pressure.
Her only concern was whether she could keep up with so many classes.
In the end, she made her decision and handed over her student ID.
“I’ll enroll in all of them.” On the way back to the dormitory, Sharon looked slightly guilty, as though she felt responsible for encouraging Daisy too much.
“How are your shooting and combat skills?
If they’re already solid, you can reduce the number of introductory courses and focus more on specialized training,” the blonde suggested.
Daisy was slightly surprised.
So the academy also divided its curriculum into general education and specialized courses.
She couldn’t exactly boast about taking down three enemies with four bullets, so she modestly replied that her skills were only average.
Sharon wasn’t entirely convinced.
Women generally faced greater physical disadvantages in firearms and close combat, and unlike Sharon’s athletic build, Daisy didn’t look especially strong.
Hoping to help her new neighbor better assess her abilities, Sharon led Daisy to the underground shooting range.
Daisy sighed.
The cafeteria was just around the corner, yet instead of eating, she was heading underground to practice shooting.
To avoid gaining a reputation as someone obsessed with food, she reluctantly followed Sharon.
At the same time, she couldn’t help complaining inwardly that Americans had a strange way of socializing.
They could have bonded over dinner, yet somehow they ended up at the shooting range instead.
Still, she appreciated Sharon’s good intentions, suppressed her hunger, and followed her inside.
“What kind of handgun are you most comfortable with?” Sharon asked.
Since recoil wasn’t much of an issue for Daisy, almost any handgun would do.
She could even handle a large-caliber revolver.
There was no need to reveal her Superpower, however, so she chose a 9mm Glock 17, a pistol generally considered suitable for shooters with smaller hands.
Looking at the handgun reminded her that she really should buy a sidearm of her own.
The Beretta 92F she had taken from the gang was only mediocre.
Large-caliber firearms had their own appeal.
The Chiappa Rhino revolver used by Harley Quinn’s neighbor in the DC universe looked especially impressive.
She decided she should customize one for herself when she had the chance.
While Daisy was selecting her weapon, Sharon had already put on her safety glasses and hearing protection.
Standing in her lane, she fired ten shots in rapid succession.
Every shot landed in the bullseye.
“Impressive,” Daisy said sincerely.
That kind of accuracy only came from years of disciplined practice.
She wasn’t intimidated, though.
After putting on her own protective gear, she stepped into the shooting lane.
It reminded her of the early days after her transmigration, when she had spent countless hours practicing at the gun range.
Without using her Superpower, she gripped the pistol with both hands, carefully aimed, and fired ten rounds.
All ten hit the bullseye.
Sharon Carter looked genuinely surprised.
Had she really just met another student with this level of marksmanship?
Still, it was only a brief surprise.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
agents were all excellent shooters, and even researchers who rarely left the laboratory were expected to handle firearms competently when necessary.
“Want to try a dynamic target course?” Sharon asked casually.
Daisy desperately wanted to say, “Let’s go eat,” but under Sharon’s expectant gaze, she picked up the pistol again.
She glanced around.
There weren’t many people using the range, but nearly everyone was capable of hitting stationary bullseyes.
Unless she started making bullets curve through the air, she wasn’t going to stand out too much.
“Let’s do it,” she agreed.
The course was fairly standard.
Targets representing criminals and civilians would appear at random.
Unlike an ordinary shooting range, however, these targets didn’t move at a predictable speed.
Their movements were controlled by a computer, accelerating and slowing unpredictably, and civilian targets occasionally crossed directly in front of hostile ones.
Sharon demonstrated first.
Clearly familiar with the course, she efficiently eliminated all ten hostile targets without hitting a single civilian.
For Daisy, whose shooting style was anything but conventional, the challenge was considerably greater.
Fortunately, her physical abilities exceeded those of an average person, and her enhanced reaction speed compensated for her lack of formal training.
Ten shots later, she had also neutralized all ten hostile targets.
Only then did Sharon Carter, a second-generation S.H.I.E.L.D.
agent, realize that her new roommate was anything but ordinary.
Daisy had described her marksmanship as merely average during their introduction, yet her performance told a completely different story.
Were ordinary New Yorkers really this skilled with firearms?
If so, there probably weren’t many ordinary people left in New York City.
Sharon concluded that Daisy had been less than truthful—or at least had deliberately downplayed her abilities.
She also suspected that there was a deeper reason why the academy had assigned them to the same room.
In reality, Daisy had already reached the same conclusion.
The moment she heard the name “Sharon Carter,” she had guessed exactly why they had become roommates.
That was also the main reason she had agreed to spend her empty stomach practicing at the shooting range instead of heading straight to the cafeteria.