Work Text:
While Darcy loves her life in the tower, and her super friends and assassin buddies, and the league of Science Bros and Bro-ettes, there are days when all she really wants is one nice, normal holiday or event. Just one. And her favorite holiday has always been Halloween. Because the geek girl who wanted to be someone else in fifth grade with glasses and braces who just wanted to disappear became the high school girl who played D&D became the college girl at Comic-Con in the Princess Leia rebel fighter cosplay.
She loves dressing up and a good scare and having one day when she can indulge in all the whimsy that brings. Because while Darcy is pretty much living the geek girl fantasy, the urge to pretend to be the pretty-pretty Princess Peach or Xena or something is still there.
So she’s more than a little pissed to be called away from this year’s costume (an elaborate rig built to resemble Idris, the TARDIS) to help herd civilians away from a huge, angry…marshmallow…man…thing?
Now she has sticky white goop in her hair, listening to her com as the Magnificent Six discuss battle strategy.
“It’s like nothing phase’s it!” Clint called out, putting another exploding arrow-tip into its arm. A shower of more goop rained down before the thing regenerated the wound.
“At least Thor’s lightening and my lasers are caramelizing it a bit,” Tony said, doing a buzz by. He dipped quickly to avoid one large, flailing arm.
“HULK WANT SMORES!”
“We’ll get on that, big guy,” the Widow chimed in. She was using a flame thrower around the feet and ankles, ducking in and out.
“Excuse me,” a voice said. Darcy turned to find four guys, all wearing jump suits and some kind of pack units. “Are you with the team out there?” The man asking was tall, with puffy hair and glasses.
Darcy quirked an eyebrow. “Nice costumes, boys,” she said. “Move it along. Saving the city here.”
“Yeah, and doing a crappy job,” one of them, a dark haired guy with slightly curly hair, said. “Just tell them not to aim for us and to get clear when the trap opens.”
With that, they shoved past her at a run. “Son of a bitch,” she mumbled. “Guys, we have four civilian wanna-bes making a beeline your way.”
“Great,” Steve said. “Try not to get them killed, everyone.”
Suddenly, something that looked like a wavy laser light show exploded into the air from around the thing, shooting up. The beast roared with anger, but was checked in its movements. Darcy’s eyes went huge. “I’ll be goddamned.”
She watched for a long minute, then ran forward, leaving her civilian charges standing in wonder. She got in range to see the curly haired guy pull a box off his back with one hand and press a button. A pair of doors opened on it, emitting a warm glow. He saw her, and said shortly, “Get your people clear.”
Darcy didn’t hesitate. “Avengers,” she said, using a tone of command that sounded like Steve. “Fall back. Repeat, fall back.”
“Trap’s live” the man yelled, and tossed it. It slid the hundred feet or so forward to the thing, tethered by a hose. The light grew brighter, and Darcy watched amazed as the thing shrunk down, disappearing into the box with a final ‘poof’. The man stomped something that looked like a wah-pedal, and the box shut itself.
“Son of a bitch,” Darcy said again, a note of respect in her voice. “So…my boss is going to want to meet you.”
The man turned to her and raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I suspect he can’t afford us.” He reached into his breast pocket and handed her a card. “He’s welcome to call us for an appointment.”
With that, the man yanked the cable to retrieve the box, stuck it back on his back, and headed back the way they had all come.
Darcy looked at the card, then laughed. She supposed that in the grand scheme of things, a non-normal, super-hero Halloween wasn’t so bad after all. She couldn’t wait to see the looks on Coulson and Fury’s faces.