Bad Moon Risingby Creedence Clearwater Revival

- from Darcy's iPod

i.

NOW.

When Darcy's eyes fluttered open and she saw the light pouring in, the first thing she could think was, fuuuuuck. This was one of those hangovers she hadn't had since college and her headache was in her eyeballs and she wouldn't escape from it. At least not until tomorrow. Darcy remembered the bottle of Jack Daniels which sat beside her bed, three quarters of it gone. She blinked hard and sat up slowly, looking around her dusty trailer. She stretched, coughed, and decided she needed to go for a walk.

She opened her front door, and like always, the hinges squeaked to announce her departure to the woods surrounding her. Darcy lit a cigarette and walked the half-mile to her closest neighbor, Walter. He was always sitting in the same spot in a clearing near the roadside, his own trailer converted into a newsstand of sorts, with a TV beside him. Darcy never saw it off.

"Hey, Walter," Darcy rasped, and she probably sounded as bad as she felt. She hoped this hangover didn't include vomiting any time soon. She hated the idea of triggering any of her past disordered behavior. These days, it wasn't as if her appearance mattered that much. And neither did the controlling of food.

"Mm-hmm," Walter replied, one eyebrow cocked. "Big party last night? I can't say I'm in the mood for it, myself."

Walter always had the air about him of judgement but deep down he meant well. At least, that was what Darcy thought.

"There wasn't any special occasion. Just Sunday." And Darcy hated Sundays.

"You haven't heard the news?"

Darcy's eyes flickered to the screen beside Walter's knee where TV anchor was muted, their stern expression filling Darcy with dread. In the seconds it took her to read the title CAPTAIN AMERICA SLAIN, she grabbed the remote from Walter's hand and turned up the volume, her heart hammering.

"Sources have confirmed this morning that the former Avenger Captain America has been assassinated by government associates in downtown Manhattan following an altercation with registered superheroes including Tony Stark. And warning: the following footage contains disturbing images."

Darcy bit her lip. This couldn't be real. How had she missed this? Her cheeks burned with the shame of it all. How could she have blacked out last night?

Next came the shaky camera footage of a crowd gathered around a figure sprawled on the pavement. The camera operator pushed forward to show the unmistakable face of Steve Rogers, bloodied and broken on the ground. Darcy felt her heart jump into her throat.

On second thought, it was vomit.

The second she stood up, Darcy felt the hangover of the century threatening to burst through her skull. She heard Walter yell something but she held up a hand.

"Walter, when did this happen? How long have they been running this story?"

"All morning," Walter snapped, disgusted by Darcy's vomiting. "They cut off all the damn transportation in and out of the city, too."

There was that lingering denial at the back of Darcy's mind. This could be a fake story. From what she had seen in the news for the past year and a half, superheroes vanished easily. She thought of Bruce then and her chest ached.

"Where's Alyssa?"

Alyssa was Walter's neice, and Darcy babysat for her often. Walter looked confused at her question.

"Why? What is it?"

Darcy took a deep breath. "Remember how I said I had a boyfriend in jail?"

Walter stared at her. "Yeah."

"Well he's more like a - husband. I'm married. My husband is part of - this."

Darcy gestured to the TV screen that was showing more footage from the last night of a crowd in the streets. A woman's pained cries could be heard.

"So I have to go, Walter. I have to say goodbye."

Darcy ran then, which was probably the stupidest thing to do when she was in a blind panic and extremely nauseous. She thought about keys, her car, her phone - fuck. She dropped her cigarette on the ground when she reached her trailer, mashing it into the dirt with her boot.

She packed her only bag with whatever clothes she could find. Not much else mattered. She'd need to find a hotel and figure out what to do next.

She'd have to call Natasha.

Going through her drawers by her bed, she found the old single grey sock stuffed behind her underwear. She delved into the sock and found it - her wedding ring, and hesitated. It didn't feel right wearing it, but she couldn't just leave it.

She pocketed it and set out to find Alyssa. She'd have to go now.