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Hulk…Buddy?
The team had been away for the last four days. What they were doing and how long they'd be doing it was well above Darcy's pay grade. She tried not to let that bother her, but it still set her teeth on edge and sent a petty jolt through her chest whenever she allowed herself to dwell on it. The childish part of her warred with her grown self as she fluctuated between resentment and respect for the fact that, sometimes, the people she was closest to intentionally kept her in the dark.
Thor and Jane were off visiting Selvig at his family home in Norway. They'd extended an invitation to Darcy, of course, but she made her excuses. She wasn't in the right headspace to spend a week being the third wheel while Erik walked around without pants on.
Bruce was around. And he wouldn't be opposed to her company if she offered it. But she thought the man deserved a much-needed break from other people. It wasn't often that the entire team got called out without him going in. Whether it was to contribute his scientific expertise or to lend a big green muscly hand, Bruce rarely got left behind when the Avengers assembled. It was rare indeed. Darcy didn't want to be a nuisance.
And to be fair, during the workdays that had passed, she'd been too busy to really notice the others' absence. She and Bruce interacted during small break intervals before heading off in opposite directions.
Other than that Darcy didn't really have the time for anybody else. In the absence of two of her science triplets, the labs were left almost entirely under Darcy's supervision. The lab monkeys actually got to do science for once without being micromanaged and sent away. Well, in Jane's lab at least. Tony's was a strict no-fly zone. No baby scientist jam hands around his stuff. His words, not Darcy's.
So, while the lab techs spent the week maintaining the science side of Jane's smaller projects, Darcy organized their schedules; fielded complaints and phone calls; collected their notes, and entered data into Jane's computer.
When she finished with all that, each evening Darcy made her way to Tony's lab so she could check on DUM-E and U – wanting to make sure they got at least some human interaction before they went into sleep mode for the night. Her final moments of each workday were spent debriefing with Jarvis, talking about the progress he'd made on anything Tony had left cooking while away, and running down the security procedures that Tony typically went through with J when he was home. They got it all out of the way before she left Tony's space.
Darcy and Jarvis had decided early in their bromance that they would never talk shop outside of the lab levels unless there was an emergency that required it. They pinkie swore on it, so it was pretty unbreakable. Both had been subjected to science rants and breakthroughs at ungodly hours in all kinds of places when they thought their work for the day was done. Both refused to perpetuate the madness if they could help it. Besides, for as good as Jarvis was at science and assisting Tony in all that technical mumbo jumbo, he had confided in Darcy some time ago that his real passion lied in the arts. More specifically, in ceramics.
He'd told this to Darcy in confidence, too nervous to tell Tony. Afraid that his creator would be disappointed or critical of his interests. Darcy begged to differ but promised not to tell. They were working through his feelings on the matter; she was confident that she could get him to open up to Stark and that it wouldn't backfire in the slightest. Jarvis remained doubtful.
It was as she was heading back to her apartment, in the elevator ascending from the labs to her floor, that Jarvis spoke again, his speech stilted and robotic.
The elevator halted jarringly, knocking Darcy off balance and into the handrail.
At first, he was frantic, telling her that his firewalls had been breached, rambled nervously at her about intruders. Then as if a switch had been flipped, he played like an automated message.
"Evacuate the elevator immediately."
"Jarvis? What are you—" She let out a startled yelp as the A.I. threw open the elevator doors. He had stopped the elevator just below the communal living area, a small window of space available for her to climb up and crawl through.
"Evacuate the elevator immediately."
She eyed the doors nervously, wondering how long he'd be able to hold the doors before his system shut down completely. She tried not to think about the doors slamming closed on her body if Jarvis went away before she could pull herself out.
"Alright, man, I trust you…" She said more to convince herself than him. She hopped up to catch the floor where it floated above her head and thanked Clint profusely for forcing her to work on her upper body strength. A month ago, she would not have been able to hoist herself up and through the gap Jarvis had provided.
"Ok J-man," her voice was high pitched in her ears, and she could feel her heart thudding in her face and hands. "What—"
"Evacuate—" His voice faded and cut off. The warm light fixtures he'd kept on in the living area went dark – pitch black – before the emergency lights flashed in the ceiling and lined the floors tinting the room in a cold blue glow.
"Jarvis?" Nothing. "J?"
Darcy took a shaky breath and tried to gather her bearings. Ran a trembling hand through her hair, before tying it up in a high ponytail. She moved further into the room, hugging the wall as she did, heading for the third floor panel to the right of the fridge. Natasha's voice was calm in her head as Darcy pressed her palm into the panel waiting for it to release.
"This is only for you, Darcy." Natasha had said to her. "I've hidden others as well. You'll commit them to memory."
Darcy watched as Natasha crouched down by the fridge and applied pressure to one of the panels of flooring. There was a barely-there pop, and then Natasha removed the panel to show a small backpack hidden underneath.
Darcy moved closer with wide eyes and a wider grin.
"That's so cool!"
Natasha pursed her lips and gave her a lighthearted glare.
"Just remember, it's for emergencies." She brought the bag over to the counter, gesturing for Darcy to take a look.
"It's not to use when you want to mess with Clint or Barnes because they're being children. After today, I want you to commit each stash to memory and then never acknowledge them again. Not until you need them, understand?"
She held Darcy's gaze for a moment, and the younger girl nodded seriously.
"I understand."
Darcy felt the floor panel pop and quickly pulled it up. She snatched the bag from inside and replaced the panel as quietly as she could.
Still crouched on the floor, hidden only by the kitchen island, Darcy unzipped the bag and pulled out the items Natasha had selected for her.
First, taking out an old flip phone, she dialed the number Natasha had drilled into her head and held it to her ear. She knew no one would answer, but she let it ring three times as instructed before sending off a blank text. Then she shut the phone back down and shoved it into the bottom of the bag. Grateful she wore her black converse in the labs that day, Darcy hastily shoved the tiny lock pick into the bottom of her right shoe, and a small retractable utility knife in her left. Her toes felt a little odd sharing the space, but she ignored it. She strapped two modified widow's bite bands to each wrist before rezipping the bag and throwing it over her shoulders.
Her heart was in her throat when she entered the stairwell, not sure what or who she might encounter in the building. She had to get to Bruce. Safety was with Bruce.
First, though, she needed to find her baby. With as much stealth and speed that she could muster, Darcy made her way down one level to her floor, thanking Stark profusely for making her floor so centrally located.
She darted to her apartment, stopping short when the door gave way. Already unlocked. Her body alight and buzzing with adrenaline, stood frozen and separate from her running mind. Darcy momentarily short-circuited as she processed her conflicting urges – one to run, the other to find her kitten.
She crept forward slowly. Eyes blown wide in the darkness, trying to see. Her breathing was loud to her own ears. Conspicuous. A figure moved around the corner. Silhouetted, a man paced frantically in front of her couch before stopping and turning slowly toward her.
She flung her hand up to activate the widow's bites on her right wrist.
"Darcy?"
She stopped short, looking back at the frazzled man.
"Bruce!"
Surging forward, Darcy launched her arms around him in complete relief.
"Thank god. We gotta get out of here, kid."
"I know. I know. I just need to find Fury."
"I've got him."
She looked at Bruce then as he shifted a backpack off his shoulder and unzipped the mesh lining at the top, watched as a little orange face popped nervously through the hole.
She nodded, ignoring the sting of relieved tears that lined her eyes, and watched as he zipped the mesh back up. Grabbing her elbow gently, Bruce took the lead as they exited the apartment.
"We need to get up to the penthouse," he murmured, head on a constant swivel.
In the flashing emergency lights, she could see his eyes shot green. Thick angry veins bulged in his neck as he fought the urge to transform.
"We'll be okay, Bruce," Darcy said to him softly as they darted up the stairs. "We're gonna be okay. I sent a message to Romanov when it all started. It's gonna be okay."
She didn't really know if she was comforting him or herself at that point, but the gentle squeeze he gave her hand helped to center her focus and quiet her down.
There was a loud bang and a flash of light some floors below that shocked Darcy out of motion. But Bruce didn't let her stop for long, tugging her forcefully upward despite the beams of flashlights and the thud of boots heading their way.
He began to huff then, like a bull preparing to charge. His hands trembled as he shook his head. She could see the conflict that was happening within. Could only imagine the argument that was taking place between the two beings that inhabited his mind.
It was 80 percent repressed Hulk strength that got them up the last three flights of stairs, Darcy could hear the footsteps gaining on them anyway. Bruce busted open Tony's fire door, slammed it shut, and broke off the handle. Hoping to buy them a little time.
He dragged Darcy to Pepper's office. Thanking god that the other woman was upstate for the weekend; he slammed the door behind them before releasing the younger girl's arm.
The rage was harder to stave off then. He muttered to himself, half out of his mind, begging Hulk to let him have control. Hulk seemed to have other ideas. Growling and huffing as he warred with his weaker self.
"What do we do now? What now?" Darcy was frantically asking, grabbing at the man who had crouched down on the floor.
"Bruce," she hissed. "You obviously had this planned out. What is the next step?"
He tried to speak, but the Hulk had taken his voice and Hulk was angry. Didn't want to talk. Wanted to fight. Wanted to smash all the puny humans that were chasing him and the little girl.
"Hey," she snapped and smacked him across the face, watching as her red handprint faded to a light shade of green. "I don't really give a fuck what you want, Hulk. I need to talk to Bruce. Right now."
He recoiled slightly. Looked up at her with one brown eye and one green.
"Behind the Iron Man poster on the wall," Bruce gritted his teeth. "There's a lever and a keypad. Pull the lever and type the word RESCUE into the pad."
Darcy jumped up to do as he instructed.
"It'll drop the panic doors. Nobody in or out until Tony arrives and Jarvis is back up and running."
Voices sounded in the hallway leading to the office they'd sequestered themselves in.
Just as he said, reinforced steel doors slammed down around them, and the sounds of the approaching men disappeared. She turned back to the warring man, biting her lip nervously.
"So now we wait…" She said quietly to herself as he clutched at his head and argued with himself, occasionally losing his voice to the Hulk who loudly protested his course of action. Who vocally wanted Bruce to let him out.
Darcy stepped toward him and Bruce snapped his feral gaze up at her.
"What can I do?" She asked him softly. "What can I do to help you?"
He laughed a deep, manic laugh, and flinched away as she came closer.
"Stop." He held up his hand and she halted mid-step.
"Stay as far away as you can. If he wins, you could be crushed."
"I don't believe that," Darcy argued gently. "I don't think either of you would hurt me."
He scoffed.
"Not intentionally," His face contorted, bulging a little greener than before. "He likes you, but neither of us has control when we change. You'd be crushed before he was even aware he had the wheel, kid." He said with bared teeth. Hulk's face stretched out of him then, eyes angry and his voice loud when he shouted.
"GO!"
Darcy jumped and stumbled backward, snatching the backpack that Fury was in as she pushed her body up against the corner farthest from him. She slid down to the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest, sticking one hand in the bag to comfort the little orange tabby. She didn't even flinch when the cat panicked and embedded his nails deep into the skin of her hand, content to let him hold on.
So enthralled by the disturbing sight in front of her, Darcy failed to notice at first the steady and consistent thud coming from the steel barred entrance to the office. Didn't hear the high-pitched whir of an explosive charge until it flashed off and sent pieces of steel flying in every direction. She didn't hear it. But the Hulk had.
She'd barely had time to process the explosion, let alone take cover when the great green behemoth won the war with himself and charged in her direction. Cradling her and Fury to his chest with thick trembling arms. The roar that erupted out of him had to have shaken the city. Darcy could just imagine the pedestrians below, stopping and looking up at the tower, searching for whatever had triggered their most volatile hero and scattering even though there was no danger to be seen.
In the settling dust of the explosion, men poured into the office in various forms of shock trying to maintain their professionalism and achieve whatever they had set out to achieve when they infiltrated Avenger's Tower. They obviously hadn't expected the Hulk to have stayed behind when the rest of the team was called away.
In a small fit of petulant rage, Hulk punched at the wall behind Darcy. His fist went through the structure of steel, concrete, reinforced glass as though it was little more than paper. Wind whipped inward, funneling through the hole in the wall and knocking Darcy off-kilter in an act of sheer force. Instead of a whistle, it flooded the room in a scream.
She watched as the Hulk turned to face their assailants with a nasty, boyish grin. Some ran. Others stupidly stayed to fight. Darcy tried to stay out of the way, nerves prickling at the thought of the hole in the wall behind her. There was really nowhere for her to go. She dug the burner phone out of the bag Natasha had given her, threw it in Fury's bag, and hoisted him onto her back. She tried only once to get to the door but more men appeared, and a giant green fist landed in front of her. She backed up again toward her corner, eyes locked on the danger before her. Flailed her arms frantically when her shoelace caught on a piece of shrapnel from the explosion and stumbled backward. Right out of the space where the wall had once been.
She would have screamed if she wasn't choking on the terror lodged at the base of her throat. She reached up in vain for something to grab at but fell too fast. Still, her hands stayed reaching above her as the hole in the wall grew further and further away.
It was like an out of body experience. Darcy knew she was falling to her death, but it was as though she'd left her brain and her stomach somewhere in the air above her. The wind was a sadistic screech in her ears as she kept her eyes locked on the place she'd been standing only seconds ago.
Then she remembered Fury. Her little orange fur baby who was too young to die so suddenly and violently. Resigned to her fate, Darcy still twisted as though she could somehow save him. Desperate, she turned in the air, to spare him even if she couldn't save herself. It was as she twisted and contorted, that Darcy's body hit something that was decidedly not the ground.
She bounced once on impact. Briefly recalled the old trampoline she had in her backyard growing up. Then she laid there. Dazed. Heart pounding. Breath erratic. Her hands were clenched in disbelieving little fists. Thrumming with near-death energy, Darcy uncurled her hands and slid them across the surface beneath her. Trying to figure out what she had landed on, but too disturbed to look around. It felt like vinyl, and Darcy nervously waited for whatever was holding her to give under her weight, held her breath for the sound of a tearing fabric or the groan of support beams.
Nothing.
Nothing but the wind and the sounds of the city below.
Fury mewled frantically behind her. She had landed on her side. Darcy, startled by the sound, sat up slightly. Pulling the backpack off, she peeked in at the traumatized kitten to make sure he wasn't hurt. Heart aching as his little paws swiped frantically at her and the fabric of the bag. She hushed him desperately, before finally facing her surroundings.
Though she felt the thing that caught her – durable fabric below her fingertips – and knew obviously that something was holding her up some 90 stories above the ground, Darcy was completely unprepared to look down and see nothing but air below her.
She cried out then, deep gut-wrenching wails, and curled in on herself. Darcy clenched her eyes shut and tried to forget the fall. Tried to forget the thousand-foot distance between her and the ground. Keened and clawed at her hair as she tried desperately to suck air into her lungs.
Somewhere inside, the Hulk was running a rampage against whoever had infiltrated the Tower. Who they were or how many there were was a mystery – a mystery that she no longer cared about. Her chest clenched painfully, and her left arm lost all feeling as she floated there above the ground.
Dying. She was dying.
Somewhere inside the Hulk roared again. And Darcy was dying.
In the bag she held tight to her body, Fury cried at her for attention. He cried and scratched and mewled at her for help. To spare him her fate. The cold metal of Pops' dog tags weighed gently against her chest and she reached one hand up to twist it. Ran her thumb over the indent of his name. And tried desperately to control her breathing.
Darcy wiped at the tears blurring her vision. Pretty sure she was having a heart attack, Darcy told herself dying would just have to wait until later. She couldn't leave Fury up in the air all by himself. Scared with no one to help him. So, she pulled herself up on all fours and did everything she could to not look down.
They couldn't die there. Not like that. Not after falling out of a hole in the wall that the Hulk had created. Bruce would never recover from the guilt. Never stop hating himself for the Hulk's role in it, even if all he had done was try to save her.
Darcy shook her head at herself, choked back a sob.
"We're okay," She said to Fury, her voice tight. "We're okay. Right, little guy?"
Darcy put the backpack on her back once more, cautiously sliding her hands across the invisible vinyl surface before inching forward slowly. If she kept moving in this direction, she believed she would end up directly above the Avenger's emblem which held the entrance to the chamber that housed the Iron Legion.
She crawled. Didn't look down. Crawled some more. Caught a glimpse of the drop below her. Sobbed hysterically. Then she crawled some more.
After what felt like an eternity, Darcy found herself directly below the quinjet's landing pad and above the giant 'A.' She looked above and below her, completely dismayed. From afar the Avenger's logo had always seemed so close to the landing pad. Nothing more than a few feet between them it seemed from the street. Now, however, Darcy could see that both were about twenty feet in either direction from where she was stranded. Biting back a desperate scream, she settled herself between them content that at least when she looked down, she'd see a giant ledge made of metal and concrete instead of a thousand-foot drop to her death.
She let herself breathe then. Reached into the backpack, grabbed the burner phone she'd dropped inside, and turned it back on.
There was one blank text in her inbox. She flipped it closed, clutching the device tightly in sweaty hands. Warred with herself briefly, before flipping it open once more and dialing the number Natasha gave her.
On the fourth ring, it picked up.
"Darcy, always hang up after three rings," Natasha's smooth voice came through the speaker.
Darcy didn't say anything, just sucked in a breath.
"Darcy…?
She opened her mouth, but still no words.
"Whoever this is," Natasha's voice was void of emotion. "It would be in your best interest to leave her alone."
"Nat," Darcy croaked. "It's me."
There was a pause.
"Darcy? Are you alone? Have you been harmed?"
There was a gaggle of voices in the background, and the starting whir of an engine.
Darcy stuttered.
"I don't know what to do."
"Talk to me," She coaxed her calmly. "Tell me what's going on. Stark can't contact Jarvis and none of us can get ahold of Banner."
"Jarvis is gone…" There was silence on the other end.
"What do you mean, gone?" Tony's voice rocked through the phone. Natasha must have put her on speaker.
"I don't know," Darcy exhaled slowly. "He started telling me to evacuate, then he disappeared. The power went out and the emergency lights came on." She twisted her shirt in her hands. "He's just gone."
He went to say something more, but Natasha interjected.
"Were you able to clear the building, Darcy? Have you been hurt?"
Darcy couldn't help it then, fought the bubble that filled her chest and failed.
Back on the quinjet, the team looked at each other completely bewildered as the tinny sound of her laughter filled the air.
Darcy felt manic as she shook, her shoulders hunched inward, face aching from smiling as tears leaked from her eyes. She looked back at the invisible path she'd crawled to get to the Iron Legion she couldn't reach.
"Oh, I evacuated alright." She cackled, holding tight to the bag that held the still disgruntled kitten.
She was met with silence on the other land.
Cap's voice floated through then.
"And Banner?" he asked seriously. "Did he leave with you?"
She snorted and slapped her hand over her mouth. Choking back another wave of hysteria.
"Oh yeah, Cap. Banner definitely left the building." The giggles rolled through her body again as the adrenaline drained a little more. All that was left was the shock and absurdity of it all.
"Hey!" Natasha snapped over the phone, successfully calling Darcy's attention back to her. "Stop laughing."
Darcy's face stung with the verbal slap Romanov had dealt. She quieted instantly. Realizing suddenly that she was very cold.
"We need to know what we're walking into, Darcy," She said sharply. "That means you don't get to check out."
Darcy bit her tongue and flinched.
"Got it?" Natasha snapped.
Darcy nodded meekly.
"Out loud, Darcy."
"Yeah. Yes. I got it. Sorry." She stuttered.
"Good," Natasha's voice was soft again. "Now, you said you evacuated. Tell us where you are, and we'll send someone to pick you up."
The lump in Darcy's throat expanded and her voice got rounder with a fresh wave of suppressed tears.
"I'm outside the tower."
Clint piped in.
"I thought I told you to run in these situations. You don't know who could be lurk—"
"I can't run, Clint."
"You're injured?" Natasha cut back in.
"Um no. No, I don't think so?" Darcy said hesitantly. "It's just…I'm not exactly on the ground."
Silence. Natasha hissed.
"Where, Darcy?"
Her voice was small when she responded.
"I'm on some kind of invisible net, I think… above the Iron Legion?"
Back on the quinjet, the Avengers looked dumbly at the phone Natasha held tightly in her hand.
Tony tersely spoke then.
"Lewis," He said slowly. "Are you telling me, you're currently on my safety net…floating 90 stories in the air?"
Over the speaker, they heard her suck in a wheezing breath and swallow audibly before she crackled out a yes.
"Tony?" She asked after a beat. "Is there some way I can get back inside from here?"
He clenched his teeth.
"No. Not in your case." He said. "There's an override box near the top of the 'A' but there's no way for you to climb down some twenty feet to get to it. Just sit tight, Kid."
"Where is Bruce, Darcy?" Steve asked once more.
She hesitated.
"The Hulk is handling the intruder situation, I think." She said. "It's been a minute since I've seen him…so I can't be sure. We were in Pepper's office, but they busted the panic doors wide open."
Steve's face was grim when he nodded his understanding, forgetting that she couldn't see him.
"Hold tight," he said then. "We're on our way back from our debrief in D.C. We'll be there soon."
She sniffed.
"Yeah, okay." She said tiredly before snapping her phone shut.
Sat on the net, looking out at the city, Darcy gritted her teeth and growled.
"Not this time, Lewis."
Leaning over to get a better view of the beacon below her, the distance between them left a hole where her stomach used to be, but she scanned the area anyway determined to find some sort of foothold or way to climb down.
She scooted to a small line of wire that jutted out between the side of the building and the taught vinyl netting. Reached out to run her fingers over it in contemplation. It was strong, she noted, but thin and easy to manipulate. She pressed her lips together before turning back the way she came. Crawling faster now on all fours until she got far enough away from the 'A' that her cutting wouldn't destabilize the side of the net that she needed.
The wires were all evenly spaced, about a yard apart. She determined that all of them were about a foot in length between the invisible net and the Tower itself. Darcy tugged off her shoe and shook out the retractable utility knife she had stored there.
As she worked the net became looser, with the removal of each wire it had a little more give, but not enough to really destabilize. There must have been another support structure attached to it that she couldn't see. Time seemed to move faster as she sawed at the wires, continually scooting back toward her destination as she gathered them.
Once she'd gathered ten feet or so of wire, she made her way back.
Then she set to work intertwining her materials, tugging at them to test their durability, and trying not to think about what would happen if she miscalculated in any way. She couldn't go back the way she came, too afraid of the damage she'd done to the net over there and not really wanting to be floating around in thin air.
Once she had her wires attached in a relatively stable manner, Darcy detached the net from the wire directly above the Iron Legion leaving it connected to the wall of the building. One end of her makeshift wire rope was attached to the wall, the other she wrapped dubiously around her wrist.
Inside the tower, the Hulk was conspicuously silent, and her gut rolled nervously at the implications.
With a deep breath and a shake of her head, she sent up a prayer to Heimdall who, if he was watching, was no doubt scolding her from his place in the sky. Then she tightened the straps of her backpack compulsively before sliding through the gap between the net and the building, holding tight to the wire that cut into the skin of her hand. Face red, Darcy winced at the muscles in her arms overextended She silently willed her rope to hold out until she was lower. Darcy clenched her gut and used her feet to recklessly repel twenty feet down to the top of the glowing blue ledge. As predicted the rope brought her about halfway there before it ran out. She could feel it thinning somewhere above her as she dangled in between the two spaces.
"Deep breath, Darcy." She gasped to herself, regretting all her life choices. "You already fell, like, three stories. What's ten feet?"
The wire rope creaked above her and she felt herself drop a little lower as it began to thin. She snuck a peek down, and suddenly that ledge didn't seem big enough for what she was trying to do. It couldn't have been more than six or seven feet deep.
A small breathless whine escaped her as her eyes locked on her destination, struck with the sudden sensation that it was shrinking. Smaller. Not deep enough for her to land on. Not enough. She was gonna miss. She was gonna go over the edge. There was nowhere for her to land.
Darcy looked back up to where the invisible net was supposed to be and knew she wouldn't be able to climb back up. That her poorly constructed repelling line would never hold up.
Fury howled unhappily behind her, claws scratching at the bag that held him.
Darcy closed her eyes and counted her breath as Sam had taught her. Inhaled and exhaled slowly.
Could hear his voice in her ear as she tried to center herself and collect her courage.
She looked around herself and saw everything. Uncertainly, she looked back at Sam who decided to help her out a little.
"How about five things that are blue?"
She opened her eyes and locked them ten feet below her on the bright beacon of blue light just under her feet. One more deep breath and she let go of the rope just as it snapped and fell away from the tower.
She dropped fast and heavy onto the slab of concrete, stumbled, and flailed her arms as her center of gravity shifted and tried to force her backward. Fury was screeching and yowling on her back, and Darcy put all her effort into throwing her weight forward. She stumbled into the wall instead of over the edge, clutching at the surface in sweet relief.
She laughed and let out a cry of success before kneeling to kiss the most beautiful letter in the world.
The call with Darcy had barely ended before Tony relinquished flight control over to Wilson and Barton. He moved quickly to a set of panels on the wall to try and recover Jarvis.
Rogers, Romanov, and Barnes hashed out infiltration and recovery strategies as they entered Pennsylvania air space.
As he worked, Tony tried and failed not to imagine Darcy dangling helplessly from the side of the tower. Wondered how she had even ended up there to begin with. Whether she had fallen or been thrown. Surely, she wouldn't have jumped as a means of escape. He shook the thought roughly out of his head. He clenched his eyes shut and focused instead on finding Jarvis, berating himself whenever his mind slipped to the safety nets he had installed at different levels of the tower. He'd constructed them in case he or one of the others ended up airborne during a fight and were unable to fly.
In creating it though, he had never actively imagined someone other than an Avenger ever using it. Never thought there would be a scenario where someone like Darcy or Jane, Happy or Pepper would end up falling defenseless to their death.
And for someone who prided himself on thinking of every possible scenario, this was an unforgivable oversight to Tony Stark.
Darcy grinned widely to herself as she clambered through the now open hatch that led her into the belly of the beast. She ran her fingers over the guard rail, relieved it bordered the grated walkway that cut across the Iron Legion's chamber.
Turning once to make sure the hatch had indeed closed behind her; Darcy took off at a run toward the wall vent that sat next to the security door. She was too nervous that there would be someone waiting on the other side. The lock pick Natasha had given her made quick work of the vent cover. She pocketed it and climbed in. She kicked her shoes and socks off behind her, not trusting herself to move quietly with them on.
She tried to recall the few things Clint had told her about the vent network even though she knew it was only a fraction of the information he had. She paused at another grate to try to get her bearings, see if she could find Bruce or any of their attackers.
The communal living area was empty save for a boot laying ownerless by the coffee table. She bit her lip, debating on how reckless she should be.
Cap was already going to lay into her for not staying put and disobeying his orders, and part of her did want to stay safe and hidden in the vents until help arrived. The larger part of her; however, wanted – needed – to find Bruce. Despite his past assurances that he was damn near invincible, she couldn't help but imagine him lying helpless somewhere in aftermath of the chaos. There had just been so many of them. Even the Hulk had to have been a little overwhelmed by it all. Right?
Setting her chin, Darcy undid the screws in the cover and shoved it out of the way, letting it thud softly on the carpet below before clambering out.
Now that she was standing, Darcy realized the full extent of what had happened here. It was more than just a boot abandoned by the coffee table, behind the couch was a man's body. It looked off to her somehow and it took her a minute to realize it was because his chest was completely caved inward. Severe blunt force trauma, the voice in her head commented with an air of detachment. Looking between the boot and his body, she imagined the boot must have been knocked off his foot by the force of the blow.
Darcy didn't relish the thought that her enemy was dead. Swallowing a surge of vomit back down, she picked her way through the room. Widow bites charged on each wrist, she ducked next to the dead man and brushed his eyelids closed before grabbing the metal baton attached to his tactical belt.
She swung it a few times to get a better feel for it before moving past the kitchen toward the stairwell. Pushing the door open slowly, she peeked around each corner to find it empty. Darcy worked her way upward. Sweat ran from her forehead and stung her eyes. Her body buzzed, overdosed on the events of the night.
She bounded toward the penthouse, only stopping once when she saw the body of a man folded over the railing next to Bruce's floor. He had either fallen or been thrown. She scooted carefully around him, tried to ignore him in her periphery as she peeked over the railing.
This section of stairs only encompassed the top thirteen stories of the tower, if it had been 90 stories, she wouldn't have been able to look. But still, the eleven-floor drop from where she stood was a nauseating sight, especially when she registered the collection of injured and dead men down at the bottom.
Swallowing another wave of bile, Darcy turned and made the rest of the trek up to Tony's floor – the door to which was missing entirely.
The place was the physical embodiment of savagery. There were several deep gashes in the walls and floor where the Hulk must have collided with them. Darcy couldn't bring herself to count the bodies that littered the hallway toward Pepper's office. Instead, Darcy counted her own breath. She willfully ignored the glassy staring eyes of her former assailants. All but pretended that the ground didn't exist. Held her breath when the unidentifiable smells the bodies emitted became too much to handle. Darcy rubbed her hands nervously on her jeans at the sight of all the blood.
Darcy had seen death before. Seen people accidentally crushed by buildings, seen others burned in the Destroyer's attack on Puente Antiguo. Darcy had run past alien corpses – had a hand in killing a few as well if she was honest with herself. But she'd never seen such a brutal and mass killing of human beings. Not up close and personal. Not like this. They never had a fighting chance.
Part of her, the raging part of her, felt a sick sense of satisfaction at that. They were bad men, these people who had come to do unspeakable things to whoever they intended to get their hands on. They would have killed Darcy and Bruce without a second thought, even if they weren't the intended target.
But the other part of her, the part of her that was so tired of all the violence and destruction that seemed to follow her everywhere she went…that part of Darcy grieved for them. Simply because they were gone. And she grieved for herself because no one should ever have to see what she had seen tonight. No one.
She picked her way through the bodies, fighting vomit and tears and the burning anger inside of her that made her want to lash out with her stolen baton and beat each and every corpse that laid unblinking in her path. Wanted to bloody them up for the role they played in it all. Stopped herself only because she had played a role too.
When she came to the charred entryway to Pepper's office, Darcy was met with a sight she never in a million years thought she would see.
The room was empty of bodies, which seemed impossible in Darcy's mind as she recalled that most of the fight had occurred there. He must have moved them, she thought to herself – wondering if those were the bodies that had been dumped in the stairwell like it was a garbage chute.
But what really struck her was that she had never seen the Hulk sit so still. So quiet. He was on his knees, head bowed, with his back to her. Facing the wall he had torn open with his fists. Air whipped fiercely into the room from the place where she fell.
She stepped forward softly, reached out a hand toward him before retracting it hesitantly.
He didn't know she was there.
"Hulk…" Darcy's voice cracked. "Buddy?"
The roar he emitted knocked her off her feet as he stood to his full height and turned to meet her. His face was twisted, enraged, spit flew out of his mouth as he turned to take his anger out on whoever was left.
Hulk stopped short at the sight of her. Rage gave way to shock which then gave way to tears. Giant, hurricane teardrops poured as he shrunk away from her. The Hulk held his hands out in front of him in guilt, as if to remedy the mistake he'd made. He hunched and backed away as though to make himself smaller, to give her more room.
His body was lined in grief.
Darcy picked herself up again, as she had done so many times that night. Dusted off her pants like she was brushing off her nerves and faced the cowering Hulk once more.
"Hey Bud," She smiled tiredly as she moved slowly toward him. Hands outstretched in a gesture of peace.
"NO!" Hulk cried out, backing himself against the wall. Darcy nervously eyed the space she fell out of until she was content that he wouldn't do the same.
"Hulk—"
"GO!" He roared at her.
"Nope. I won't go." She said with a shrug.
"Hulk monster!" He groaned out, eyes grave as he pressed himself further into the wall. There was nowhere else for him to go; he was cornered.
"You're not a monster," her nose burned with the urge to cry as she stopped in front of him. Still giving him some space so he could sort out his head without feeling crowded.
"Hulk monster! Hulk kill little girl!" Hurricane drops rolled down his cheeks.
"Stop it," She snapped tiredly. "You're not a monster. You didn't kill me. I am right here." Each word she enunciated sharply to make her point.
"Little girl fall!"
"Yep. I fell. And landed on some crazy-ass invisible net – and it was fucking scary, dude. But I'm here now. Alive. And so are you. Please don't run from me, buddy."
Her lip quivered as the events of the night caught up with her, any adrenaline she'd been running on before left her system once she'd found him. Content that he was safe, and she was safe with him, Darcy began to cry. Like a stupid baby. And she hated herself for it. But fuck it if she could stop.
Her vision blurred and her snot ran, and Darcy couldn't see the Hulk anymore really. He was more a giant green wall of blurriness at that point. She didn't protest when he reached out and pulled her into his embrace. Hugged him around the neck like a child while she cried, completely oblivious to his own teardrops as they rolled down his face and into her hair.
The assembled team of Avengers worked quickly and cohesively to clear each residential floor of the tower. Allowing the SHIELD teams to work their way through the lower floors. They barely blinked at the destruction and the pilings of bodies. Didn't gag at the sight of blood or severed limbs, didn't stop to stare at concaved chests or heads.
This was nothing new to them. In the past, some had committed similar acts in the name of survival, under orders, and of their own volition. It was brutal, but it was effective. No one could rage quite like the strongest Avenger.
Darcy hadn't been where they'd told her to stay. And more than one of them had to battle down intense waves of panic at her absence from the netting above the Avenger's emblem. It was only Stark's report of three heat signatures in the penthouse – one of which was abnormally large and another which was the size of a small animal – that settled their stomachs and minds enough to do their jobs correctly.
When Steve and Tony made it to the doorway of Pepper's office their shoulder's sagged in relief and bemusement.
Before them, Bruce was curled up tight in a thick afghan that Darcy snagged from Tony's bedroom. His eyes were hooded as he held tightly to a tiny, traumatized orange tabby cat that fluctuated between needing its paws in the blanket and scratching the ever-loving fuck out of his shoulder. It had marked him up pretty badly, but he wasn't fazed.
Darcy was leaning heavily on his other shoulder, chattering at him and swinging a baton around the space in front of her.
Steve shifted conspicuously in the doorway to get their attention without startling them and was met with two sets of battle-weary eyes. Their shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of their friends.
Steve pressed his comm.
"I've got eyes on Banner and Darcy."
There was a chorus of responses in his ear. With a sigh, he decided he didn't give a damn about protocol, dropped his shield where he stood and made his way over to the pair. Silently he slid down the wall next to Darcy and took her hand in his own. In the doorway, the Iron Man suit whirred before opening up. Tony stepped out of his armor, walked over to a cabinet that was surprisingly untouched, and pulled out a bottle of gin, grimacing.
"I hate this shit," he said before sitting down on the wall next to Bruce, nudging Darcy's foot with his own. "S'why Pepper bought it. Doesn't want me to touch her stuff."
Darcy huffed out a laugh before reaching her hand out toward the bottle. He tugged off the lid and passed it over to the girl, letting his head thud noisily against the wall.
Darcy swigged it and coughed.
"God damn, Pepper, that's nasty."
Tony laughed and watched as Steve took the bottle curiously and sipped, hissing as he swallowed. He snorted and raised his eyebrow at Stark.
"She must've been really pissed when she bought this. What did you do?"
Tony shrugged.
"Can't remember what caused that one. She sold all my good bottles, pocketed the profit, and replaced everything with the worst bottles of booze she could find."
Bruce huffed out a laugh but remained quiet and drained.
As time wore on, they began to hear signs of activity as various people made their way to the penthouse. In sets of two, the other Avenger's wandered into the room. They perched themselves on the floor around the already gathered group. Natasha and Bucky produced a bottle of vodka – not one of Pepper's revenge bottles – and a flask of Thor's Asgardian mead. Natasha passed the vodka around to the collected humans, Steve and Bucky shared the flask between themselves. Clint and Sam had raided the kitchen before heading up, carrying with them tubs of ice cream, bags of chips and a thermos of herbal tea for Bruce.
SHIELD moved through the penthouse, cleaning up the mess and collecting evidence. They arrested the living, collected the dead. A few reticent agents moved into the room of Avengers and tried as inconspicuously as possible to board up the hole in the wall until Stark could have it repaired.
The team stayed there drinking and eating – sometimes quietly, other times all talking at once – letting the hours pass together as the adrenaline of the night faded away.
Natasha cut Darcy off when she began to ramble to Tony about ceramics and signing his son up for art classes. The older woman pumped her full of water and had Clint carry her down to Darcy's floor while Natasha corralled the cat.
Natasha helped Darcy change. Removed her widow's bites and wiped her face gently with a cool cloth. Tucked her in and laid down next to her. Fury hopped up onto the bed and curled himself tightly between their bodies, purring loudly with his eyes closed.
Darcy started suddenly, sat up, and brushed off Natasha's concerned hand.
"Relax, Milaya. You're safe."
"Jarvis," Darcy said to her, looking frantically around the room. "Jarvis was—"
"I am here, Miss Lewis," Jarvis interjected softly then.
"Oh."
"Your body requires sleep now, Miss Lewis." He advised her.
"Did they hurt you, J?"
"No, I am unharmed."
"Good. That's good."
"It is indeed, Miss Lewis. Go to sleep. I will be here in the morning."
Darcy nodded before resting back on her pillow. She squeezed Natasha's hand in silent thanks before drifting off into a deep, liquor induced slumber.
