"HEY!" One agent stood stone still on the deck, hands empty and clutched at her sides and staring straight up at their one dumbass motherfucking terrorist looking down on them like he had some kind of advantage here. Sure, Daisy felt the lurch and heard the engines tear off and could feel the constant rumble of power go dead even under the blare of sirens and shouts of action that replaced it once she gathered herself from being thrown off of her feet from that initial drop. It took her long minutes to make her way to the bridge, where the Director was missing but Sitwell was trying to call out some semblance of order while the agents ran around like headless chickens. Not that it would matter-- he was saying something about 'a team to negotiate', over and over again, like that would fucking help anybody. Were they supposed to negotiate their power back on? Before he could rope her into some stupid fucking bullshit, Daisy was out of there and up on the deck.
She didn't expect to see one goddamn person just hovering up there in plain fucking sight reducing this entire craft into pants-wetting idiots. What happened to this fucking place while she was gone? So she strode up as close as she could get to him and screamed for his holy goddamn attention so he stopped ripping parts off of her fucking house. When she thought she had his full attention, she threw up her hands and unleashed a wave of seismic energy that would crack his brittle ribs and burst the lungs behind them.