A/N: This story is very much a modern AU. It uses our favorite characters but does not mirror the original plot. I owe many thanks to headless-nic, Jalema, and mahtra for their correspondence and suggestions. I'm sorry if your suggestions didn't result completely in what you wanted, but I hope you can feel good about having contributed to the existence of this story.
If you just found this story by accident, thank you for giving such a strange premise a chance. I hope you like where I take this. If, like me, you never liked superheroes all that much but married a guy who loves them and osmosis-ed you, welcome to the club! I hope he's thankful you're giving this a try.
Present Day, New York City
The S gene has always had a mind of its own. It's been recorded for the last two centuries, but still not better named. Some say the 'S' stands for 'shy' or 'secluded,' 'strange' or even 'shameful.' Some others say it stands for 'super' or 'special.' In Lizzie's side of the universe, at least, people like to claim the latter two.
It's hard not to spot a carrier, special (there we go) powers and all. It's even harder to find a decent carrier - someone who hasn't let his unique talents get to his head. Again, the gene emerges pretty randomly. Identical twins may only share one gene between them, while sibling groups or neighbor groups may sometimes all have it. She's heard a hypothesis, once upon a time, that every carrier is descended from a certain group of folks from 19th-century England. As far as she's concerned, that's not true either.
Her father wasn't from there. Her grandmother was part Cherokee. It doesn't make sense at all.
It doesn't make sense that the Darcy family has always had one - but only one - S gene carrier every generation. It doesn't make sense that Caroline Bingley, who really doesn't need another reason for vanity, gets to be part of the rare sibling-group carriers. It doesn't make sense that Lizzie, the obvious daughter of an obvious carrier, can't find the gene in herself or in any of her sisters - and has to resort to working for other carriers to be part of the movement at all.
Life's pretty unfair - and, sometimes, that unfairness majorly sucks.
"Well, take that, you laughing Hyena!" Matlock's laugh is wild and infectious when he swings himself up on the giant platform and marches his way indoors. Leader or not, he's a total man-child. "Didn't take long, that one."
Lizzie smiles from her station. The twenty-five screens sprawled all in front and around her make her feel safe, at least, from the inevitable onslaught of -
"Darcy was so heroic, straight in the heart of danger!" Caroline's tentacles fold electronically before snapping shut behind her. Her laugh, unlike Matlock's, is on the grating side. Her hands fly to her hips, always two seconds away from a supermodel pose. "I had to fly him out, of course, but he was the one who - "
"Saved the day?" Bingley, parades into their penthouse office via clear, giggly clouds, smiling pretty widely himself. "Those sleet sheets helped, I swear."
"Of course they did." Darcy, as always, emerges last - suddenly appearing in the middle of the floor.
Lizzie scoffs at the dramatic entrance.
A man who carries buildings, a girl who flies, a weather magician, and an actual invisible friend - since when had this become her life?
"Two hours - I think that's a record!" Bingley - well, Gale Lord, if he's in this costume - grins from ear to ear. A feminine squeal behind Lizzie quickly reveals why. He embraces Jane instantly. "Don't know what took the Guardians so long."
"We could have shaved ten minutes if Selenop had done what she'd supposed to," Darcy complains, hands folded.
Lizzie rolls her eyes are the predictability of it all because, you know, only Darcy would be upset about such an obvious victory.
Then again, she's never been one to shy away from a chance to put Caroline Bingley in her place.
"He's right," Lizzie agrees, drawing all eyes to her station. Despite all the superpowers she clearly doesn't have, she likes to think she's the heart of The Citadel, the only reason the Alliance needs to convene here at all. "Hyena was close enough for The Colonel to strike after the first set of sheets. Selenop left a blind spot."
"Well, I never! Elizabeth Bennet, who are you to - "
"Caroline!" Bingley scolds - apologetically, of course. "She's explaining what happened and helping us improve."
"Improve? I don't see how a plebian can have anything to - "
"She's my sister, Caroline," Jane speaks up, gentle and kind. "I know we're pretty ordinary, but we try to help too."
Bingley kisses her soundly, eliciting the obligatory groans from the menfolk. Caroline sputters, incoherent - then silences after Darcy's glare.
The guy was stuck up, but at least he controls the worst of the lot.
Lizzie smirks. "Good job, guys, the Hyena is the third strike this month."
"Stealing my thunder, Agent B?" Richard Matlock looks comical, puppy dog eyes on that humongous body - not that that's ever stopped him. His nickname suits his strength, if not his person. He smirks back. "Good job, guys! The Alliance wins again."
Darcy grips the extended palm from his cousin and leader - stoic, civil. Caroline sighs (because she'll obviously never be the leader around here). Bingley kisses Jane hard on the mouth.
Lizzie, on her part, is happy to sit right where she is - enthroned amidst her gadget friends.
Who needs a man?
"Get the champagne, Charles?" Matlock suggests-slash-commands.
Bingley lifts a finger, asking for an extra minute to kiss a swooning Jane, before letting go and nodding.
Caroline scoffs. "Why send Charles, Richard-dear. The intern is sitting right there!"
It doesn't take long for Lizzie to seethe.
"Really, Caroline? Wanna see who joined the Alliance first? Those employee records are on my side, last I checked."
"Caroline! Your arm!" Jane interrupts, gliding over to her boyfriend's sister. Her fingers land gracefully on the spot where a small gash had slit through the spider case. "Let me get you to the med bay. We don't want it to leave a scar."
If there was anything Jane was better at than being the perfect nurse and girlfriend - it's probably knowing exactly what to say every time.
Nothing like appealing to her vanity in front of William Darcy to make Caroline comply.
Lizzie tries not to smirk too hard when the two ladies slide away.
"Party's done already?" Bingley's back, hands full - instant ice in every glass. "Where's my sister?"
"Being placated by the nurse," Darcy explains. His Miragem costume - well, attire, if you ask him - is a little unnecessary given his skill set. But it's not as if Darcy wears anything much outside of black, grey, and the occasional streak of red in real life.
"My Jane? Again?" Bingley's a sweetheart.
"Yes." Darcy is still crossing his arms.
His tone may sound impassive, but Lizzie sure hears the disdain in every one of his last six words.
It's not easy, frankly, working with all these carriers. They call themselves Hiros and try to save the world. They live in giant luxury buildings with a state-of-the-art office in the heart of Manhattan, a stone's throw from everyone's house.
Everyone except the Bennets.
You know what people say about Manhattan doubling its population during work hours? Yeah, she's one of those contributors, every single day.
"Was adding Selenop a bad call?" Matlock asks out loud, because he's just the perfect leader that way. "She did seem pretty enthusiastic when I first recruited her. And Wickham had - "
The Colonel drifts off, and Gale Lord and Miragem just sigh. Lizzie looks up and down awkwardly.
It's not that she can't look it up. The world is at the fingertips of any world-class hacker - among which Lizzie knows she belongs. Whoever this mystery George Wickham was and what exactly he did to get cast out of the Alliance before it had even solidified had to be buried somewhere, dark web or not.
It's only out of respect that she doesn't look it up.
It's pretty obvious that the three Hiros wouldn't want her to anyway.
The loud, pinging sound of an arriving text message gets Matlock looking up the screen on his arm. The proud grin is hard to miss. "Marianne's calling. Jim's pretty upset that I'm not home yet. Could we push that party to later tonight?"
"And waste all this goodness?" Bingley sips half the contents straight out of the bottle. He grins too. "Can't promise I'll leave any."
"Then get another case." Matlock turns to his wrist again at the next text. "Alright, alright, I'm coming. Marianne's threatening with the card pack already."
"Still in the dog house, Rich?" Darcy smiles a little. "Thought you'd sorted that out already."
"We did. Just need to make sure I stay out of it for the rest of the year." Matlock's wink and smile go unexplained, but he's at the door pretty quick. Superstrength means super steps too, apparently. "See you guys tonight? Maybe at eight?"
"I'll reserve the penthouse," Darcy promises - because, you know, this penthouse is for work and the other one for play. One can't get enough penthouses, ever.
"We're not celebrating at The Citadel?" Bingley is one cuddly bunny, sometimes. No wonder Jane loves him.
"Darcy Tower's better," the owner says.
Lizzie doesn't even care that he hears her scoff.
She's invited to the party, of course, though she's not exactly sure if that's a compliment or insult. She's always been every bit the middle child. Jane's the introvert and Lydia's the party animal. Lizzie - is just Lizzie. Hardworking, useful, and decent enough.
Maybe it's that label at home that always makes her hungry for something, always in search for that opportunity to prove herself. Not being born with the gene doesn't mean she won't make it. Jane is everyone's favorite person at The Citadel. She's kind and generous and the patron saint of the med bay.
Lizzie, determined and sarcastic, is the rough-around-the-edges one who gets along with the boys.
She met Richard Matlock (okay, semi-stalked and located) soon after the George Wickham debacle. She was the friendly stranger at the bar who didn't flirt but magically helped. She worked her butt off to be the first non-carrier member of the Alliance. She shows up to work early every day and stays until everyone locks up. She introduced her sister, the better one, to help with the team. She's everyone else's window to the world.
She's the self-made woman who holds her own against the Hiros, and she's every bit proud of that fact.
She arrives late tonight, not exactly the type drawn to the glitz and glamour of Darcy Tower. She only comes because it's part of the job. Even the jeans and blue top come straight off from her work wardrobe. The hell she's dressing up for self-indulgent fools.
The music and giggles and mechanic screeches increase with every floor the glass elevator scales. She's pretty sure the men - and maybe Caroline - are halfway drunk already. Nothing like a hundred robots at your beck and call to fill you up fast. If she really wants to keep score, she can easily say that there's probably more people serving up there in Darcy's party space than people being served. She can sue them; file complaints against them.
They're lucky Richard Matlock is a nice boss - and, of course, that Bingley is dating Jane.
Her sister and boyfriend make no secret of their relationship, as usual, and are eating each other's faces off when Lizzie finally walks out of her solitary elevator trip up the tower. The chrome theme and vast windows are every bit Darcy, and it's his penthouse suite that sits atop this area - the only thing to do that, actually. He's offered her a tour before - but she's not about to let him show off his wealth and powers.
She's been here, done that. She doesn't need another reason to feel disappointed that she never got the gene. Never really wanted to -
She groans louder than the upbeat music when she sees what - or who - is on top of the table right now.
It seems almost as if wearing the state-of-the-art Selenop armor doesn't match up with her fashion sense - and this woman much prefers wearing nothing in her natural habitat.
"Whoah, whoah, whoah - Marianne might - " Matlock hiccups, eyes directed upwards, when Caroline gyrates right up against him before continuing her trip around the table. Technically, the flesh-colored hot pants and uber-tight tank top do count as clothing. For all intents and purposes, though, she's a stripper at the end of her dance.
Lizzie grits her teeth when she walks closer. She needs them to see her, to at least know she obeyed orders and joined the party tonight. She can at least pretend to enjoy it for half an hour.
Jane will complain that she's going home without her. Lizzie knows that Jane stays over so often at Charles's unit that this tower might as well be her home too.
Who needs Brooklyn and a screechy Mrs. Bennet when she can have Charles Bingley and the entire Darcy Tower staff - robotic and otherwise - at her beck and call?
Granted, Jane's not materialistic like that. But Lizzie doesn't feel all that great being 'left behind' either.
"Lizzie!" Matlock lights up when he sees her. Lizzie smiles. There's a reason he's behind the Alliance. The magnetic personality that convinced even Darcy to use his powers for good has got to be something special. "You made it."
"Yeah." Lizzie shrugs, smiling a little.
"Oooh, Darcy, oh!" Caroline - clearly drunk out of her senses (whatever sense she had in the first place) - is nearly on top on her next victim. Given her flight powers, stroking her butt against Darcy's lap probably isn't as necessary to her staying upright as she'd like to pretend. But, then again, she's never really fooled anyone.
"Caroline, you're drunk. Get off - "
"Oh, but Darcy, isn't this fun?" The strip act continues despite Darcy's muttered protests. Lizzie is this close to retching out of her already-empty stomach.
The victory party was an Alliance tradition. On party per villain conquered - it's always been the drill. Everyone heads to Darcy Tower for the night. Again, the Citadel is for work; this is for play. When even Matlock leaves his infant son in the annex and comes to participate, eternally-single and still-lives-with-her-parents Lizzie really has zero excuse not to join. She's expected this, dreaded this.
The familiarity of it all doesn't make things any better.
"Caroline, get off me!" Darcy is almost wailing now. Lizzie almost laughs.
"Yes, Caroline - stop," Matlock turns commanding. Lizzie remembers when Marianne had been the fourth member of the team, when the master cardsmith who can kill and build anything with a deck of cards was the emotional ballast of the team. She had to go ahead and fall in love with her boss, marry him, and retire to be a full-time mom, of course.
And now they're stuck with Caroline.
Blame no one but yourself, folks.
Lizzie rolls her eyes, not really caring if anyone is looking at her, as Matlock stands up to start with the physical restraint.
"Bingley, your sister!" Darcy is shouting behind Caroline's glossy, almost-naked butt. His hands stay anchored to the sofa. It's a really, really funny sight.
"Caroline, stop," Bingley calls out halfheartedly, just a dramatic aside, before going right back to his forever make-out session with Jane.
Lizzie laughs.
"Selenop!" Matlock takes out his Colonel voice, and Caroline stalls a little. "Off, now - you should be going to bed like this."
Caroline glares at their leader, eyes feline and angry. Lizzie almost starts feeling bad for Darcy (just almost).
"Off, now!" Matlock barks. The song in the background ends, and the DJ has the good sense not to start another one.
"Fine," Caroline seethes before flying off her victim and back to the ground. Her chosen landing spot is, quite unfortunately, right next to Lizzie. "You guys don't know a good thing when you see one."
Lizzie scoffs. It's ridiculous, really, why someone would think -
"Are you kidding me?" Caroline swings around and lands a slap on Lizzie's face. The hacker realizes, very belatedly, that she's been talking out loud. "If you think Darcy would ever - "
"Agent B!" Matlock shouts - and Lizzie stays her hand right before it hits Caroline back.
Professionalism, professionalism - the mantra in her head is wearing thinner with every passing day Caroline spends on the team.
"You're just jealous," drunken Caroline scoffs - quite unfortunately for her - in Lizzie's face. "You want Darcy for yourself and you - "
"Stop!" Some time between being enormously relieved that Caroline's finally off his lap and probably feeling very amused at this altercation, Darcy has managed to relocate from his seat on the couch to right behind Lizzie to having his hands on her waist - preventing the much-deserved slap. "Lizzie, you - "
"I what!"
"You have nothing to be jealous of. You're prettier anyway."
A/N: And so their little (or not so little) 'office romance' begins. Hang in there, folks; this might be a long one.