She tried all ten fingers. Whether the Mandarin had arrived at his choice through some systematic method or pure intuition, Daisy found herself reaching the same conclusion—the ring designated Atom-Cutter fit the right ring finger best. Practical to the last, she didn't spend a second worrying about the symbolism of the finger and slipped it on.
"Danger, you there?"
"Here, Miss."
"Good. Raise the targets. Let's run a power test."
Her old training space back in Washington had always been a bit cramped. Now that the budget wasn't an issue, she'd done it properly.
The two picturesque old windmill cottages that had stood outside the estate were demolished. In their place: one full-scale live-fire range stocked with a variety of real materials, and one hard-light holographic simulation facility—which had deeply moved Lorna. Danger retained full master control of both, though Daisy had made sure the household manager also held administrative access. She wasn't putting everything in one AI's hands.
Floor panels slid open. Targets rose from below in a measured sequence.
Chrome-alloy construction. High-polymer Kevlar combat suits. Two rubber dummies.
"Danger, can the Ring's output be modulated? Made into something more sustained, rather than a single discharge?" The twenty-minute recharge cycle feeding into one full-power burst was, frankly, a design that grated on her.
Danger dashed that hope promptly. "I'm afraid not, Miss. The Ring's core function isn't something we can alter. We can regulate output intensity, but the energy will still be fully consumed in a single discharge."
It was better than nothing—she could at least prevent the beam from traveling thousands of meters beyond the target. This was her territory, after all. But there was nothing to be done about the recharge window. If the Mandarin himself hadn't cracked it in a century of trying, she certainly wasn't going to manage it. One test every twenty minutes was just the cost of admission.
She cleared the estate and warned the staff and her animals to stay clear of the range. Then she lined up on the chrome-alloy target.
Right hand closed to a fist. The ring face aligned with the target.
One focused thought—and a hair-thin silver thread lanced out with the speed of lightning.
It passed through the metal target without slowing, then continued outward for over a hundred meters (roughly 330 feet) before the energy was spent.
She walked up to inspect. The hole left behind was about two fingers wide. The edges were immaculate—no burring, no heat scorch marks, no deformation of any kind. It looked as if the hole had always been there. The range wall was the same: brick, steel reinforcement, all of it punctured cleanly.
"Danger, energy expenditure on that shot?"
"4.5% of total charge."
Daisy stared at the readout. Less than a twentieth. She still had no idea how the original alien craftsmen had built the thing. The silver thread didn't cut or pierce in any conventional sense—it disrupted matter at the atomic level. Once the atomic bonds failed, the material's structural integrity followed. And the effect was permanent.
Powerful wasn't a strong enough word. Even the twenty-minute cooldown was tolerable given what it bought.
She spent the rest of the day running tests—fire once, wait twenty minutes, play with the lion cub, tease Lorna, spar a few rounds with the housekeeper, repeat. The time passed faster than expected.
The results were effectively null: she didn't find a single material the Ring couldn't cut through. Even the small quantity of secondary adamantium she still had on hand didn't stop it.
Danger did flag one caveat—the Ring still operated within the constraints of energy physics. Energy shields could theoretically block it. Daisy mentally reviewed her current roster of allies and came up empty. Nobody she currently knew had energy shielding as a capability.
Jean probably could generate one. But provoking a life-or-death reaction test on Jean was the last thing Daisy wanted to do. Pushing Jean over the edge would be a sin she couldn't undo.
She desperately wanted to find something tough enough to take a hit and survive. The Hulk or Blonsky would have been ideal test subjects—but one was on the run and the other was in custody. Neither was available.
"How do I make the magnetism work?! Ugh!"
Lorna was back in the simulation room, red-faced and frustrated after another wasted session. No matter how hard she concentrated, her powers refused to surface. Just the green hair, and nothing else.
"Miss Lorna, your age is a factor. According to Professor Xavier's documented research, even following genetic mutation, full mastery typically requires several more years to develop. Your cells are in a period of instability due to adolescent hormone flux."
Lorna turned to look at Daisy with an expression that said you told me this was easy.
In fairness, Daisy hadn't known about the puberty variable. Thinking about it now, Danger's explanation made complete sense.
As a peace offering, she offered Lorna a drive. The girl had been eyeing the Porsche for weeks.
Daisy settled into her new Porsche, music on, taking the road at a comfortable pace—she wasn't in any particular hurry, and the speed limit was the speed limit. Even so, Lorna was already standing on the passenger seat, face lifted to the open air, screaming with pure, uncomplicated joy.
Two seconds later, she'd swallowed a mouthful of wind and dropped back into her seat, looking distinctly less dignified. Daisy laughed.
"Don't laugh!" Lorna scowled. Then something shifted in her expression, like she'd made a decision. "Should I go to school?"
Daisy had been thinking the same thing. She didn't have the bandwidth to be a full-time caretaker, and mixing with kids her own age while actually learning things could only help.
Her first instinct had been to send Lorna to Xavier's—but she'd quietly checked with Storm, who'd been lukewarm on the idea. Charles himself might welcome Lorna, and Storm would support it as a favor to Daisy, but the others were another matter. Cyclops had opinions. Jean had opinions. And Storm had hinted that the school's relationship with Magneto was increasingly tense; bringing in his daughter right now would only provoke them.
So Daisy had shelved that idea. A mainstream school it was. The American system ran middle school across seventh and eighth grade, then high school from ninth through twelfth.
"We'll just look around. If you hate it, I won't push." The promise visibly relaxed Lorna, whose resistance had less to do with Daisy and more to do with the Long Island estate itself—no supervision, no schedule, free to run wild all day. That, more than any bond of affection, was what made her reluctant to leave.
A car pulled up beside them at a red light. The window slid down.
"Hey, beautiful. Nice car."
Daisy glanced over—and nearly hit the gas out of reflex.
The young man in the other car had slightly deep-set eyes that gave him an unreadable quality, thick eyebrows that grew with a kind of effortless rebelliousness, a strong nose, striking features, and a physique that was visible even from a distance.
She stared. Is that—Captain America?