I, Darcy Lynn Lewis, am a mystery and I intended to remain a mystery to all because I was a mystery even unto myself. I was raised in a foster home because my parents perished in an automobile accident when I was ten. Don't get me wrong, the Williams family was supportive in my academic life, but I always felt like there was more. In high school, I was dubbed the Mistress of Mayhem. Trouble just seems to follow me everywhere I go. I apprenticed with Dr Selvig because I needed the college credits to graduate, but he soon found out there was an added bonus when I started cussing out my stupid computer in Norwegian.
"Dritt," I mumbled under my breath. It always managed to foul up when I needed it most. He smiled, thinking I had picked up a new word from him. Frustrated, I turned towards him with my hands in my hair. Unthinkingly I blurted out "denne datamaskinen er en dritt!" (this computer is a piece of shit) in perfect Norwegian.
"Jeg visste ikke at du snakket norsk," (I didn't know you speak Norwegian).
"No one asked me," I said innocently as I smacked the laptop into submission. I secretly despised technology and I still do.
Eric laughed as he came over and looked at it. Bending over me, he pointed to the power button. "Next time, try rebooting. I've been told it helps."
When Jane came along, we were complete. I still miss her to this day. Cancer really sucks, you know? She was so sick, and I've never been sick a day in my life.
Then HE showed up. You know who I mean. When all the girls in High School were drooling over Brad Pitt, I was drooling over Skeet Ulrich. You know, the dark-haired bad boy, the one you would never, ever want to take home to mommy and daddy. I'll bet you didn't know that I was such a rebel. I tend to go left if people say right or vice versa. I guess I'm just subversive like that.
My phone rang, interrupting my reverie. I looked down and cursed. Damn. Shield. If I didn't take the call, it would've kept right on ringing.
"Hello?" Please don't be Fury, please don't be Fury, please don't be Fury, my inner monologue repeated. He was intimidating to say the least.
"Hello Darcy," a pleasant voice said, and I groaned, running a hand through my hair.
"Hello, Phil. You know, I still haven't gotten my iPod back from the Thor incident." I figured I would guilt him before he gets too deep into what he wants from me.
"Too bad. You can get it when you come to DC," he said smoothly, and I blinked. Oh, he's just too good.
"Why would I want to do something like that? I hate DC, remember?" I find myself getting antsy. What does he want? "Ok, Phil. What do you want." It's not even a question, it's a statement. I know he wants something.
"I want you to come to DC. Oh, and bring that new computer program that animates star positions with you."
That sounded reasonable enough. I could do that. "What's the catch?" I have gotten a bit jaded in the years since the blip. I wasn't one of the blipped. I was one of the miserable people left behind to mourn.
"We want you for your programs and expertise on Nordic cultures. Especially ancient Norsk culture." Whoomp, there it was.
"Do I stand a reasonable chance of saying no?" I wondered. Maybe Shield would pay better than my current job.
"How many people do you know have said no to me?" he asked with amusement in his voice. I thought about it. It was easier to say no to Nick Fury than to Phil Coulson.
"Ok, I've thought about it. Have someone out to Denver to pack me up and I'll come. But be warned. I haven't been called the Mistress of Mayhem for nothing."
I hate DC. Give me New Mexico or Colorado any day. I love Colorado for the scent of crisp pine in the air when I go to the mountains. I love skiing and the potential of isolation. I love it for the lack of light pollution. But, for the time being, I must endure DC.
I made it to the relative safety of my new office and sat down a box of various personal items, including a painting I did of Asgard a couple of years ago. I've never been there before, but Jane described it and I let my imagination run wild. I love the picture. It's got lots of motion to it and it seems to flow.
Phil came up behind me and scared me silly. He just loves it when he can get the drop on me, which isn't often. "You're late. Did you have problems with the plane?" He sounded skeptical. And so it begins, I thought to myself.
"There was a huge fuel spill on the tarmac in Chicago," I explained. "It took a couple of hours to contain it." It had been hot and extremely smelly. Several people on the plane passed out from the vile fumes or had gotten ill. It hadn't gotten to me, however.
"I can smell the fumes on you," he said, sniffing. "The techs will set your office up while you report to Paul Lock at the training facility. All new employees are required to have self defense and combat training."
I laughed delightedly. "Does that include kickboxing and ji-jitsu?" Little did he know how good I was at kickboxing.
"You'd better get going. Paul Lock is not a patient man. Now, go." He pushed me out the door and watched me run. I heard him mutter "How can she be so heavy? She looks so small."
I ran into the training center where Paul was holding a kickboxing class for beginners. They were, frankly, pathetic. I must have made a face because a gorgeous man with dark hair and green eyes sauntered over. He was beautiful in a manly, fey sort of way and it made my breath catch.
"So, Darcy Lewis, do you think you can do any better?" His voice was silky, smooth, and somehow snakelike. Sexy.
"I know I can," I said with bravado. I knew my skillset. People make the mistake of thinking that I'm just a joke. It's probably because I've led them to believe I am. I play the part of the jester quite well.
"Then spar with me," he said abruptly. He raised his hand the fight was on. I could tell that he was holding back because I'm a woman. I, however, was not holding back. I got in several good hits and kicks until he finally defeated me.
He had me down on the ground, his knees on my shoulders. It was a very vulnerable, uncomfortable position to be in. I shifted position and rolled, dumping him over. Then I grabbed a small thin blade that I kept in my boot for such emergencies. I brought it to his throat, and he began to laugh. "Class, the element of surprise is essential. This one surprises me."
He dismissed the class, and we watched them leave. I turned to Paul and grimaced. "They're horrendously bad." I shook my head. "I'm sure I had to have been that bad when I started."
"You're Darcy Lewis, aren't you?" Paul asked me, studying me. He was making me a bit nervous. Why was he watching me so closely? I nodded mutely. "Are you ok? You're very pale. I don't like the looks of those dark circles under your eyes."
I rolled my eyes. I was always pale. "I've just been working too hard. I've got a computer program that's been misbehaving, and I'm determined to fix it. I haven't been sleeping well."
"Well, I want to train you, so you'd better get more sleep," Paul told me. "And don't let Coulson and Fury bully you. And take a shower. You positively reek of jet fuel fumes." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Oh, if Fury and Coulson get too bad, I've got a few lemmings up my sleeve," I said cryptically. Paul looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I merely smiled at him as I took off for a shower.
Later, as I approached the office, Nick Fury approached me, file in hand. I could tell by the look in his eye that there was something that he desperately wanted to ask me, so I let him.
"What's this business of a lemming invasion at your high school?" he demanded to know. I suppressed a snicker. "You seem to be implicated heavily in the incident."
I protested vehemently while choking back laughter. "There was no proof that I had anything to do with that! Somebody brought about five hundred lemmings and let them loose in the school. It took months to get them completely eradicated. They even hid in the tubas." I turned my head slightly. Did I detect muffled laughter in the hall? As soon as I heard it, it was gone.
"If I see a single lemming, I'm searching you out," Fury said sternly. I couldn't tell, but it almost sounded like he was suppressing laughter of his own. "There will BE no Mistress of Mayhem shenanigans here. This is a government office."
"A single lemming? Sir, that would be cruel. Lemmings are pack animals," I told him with wide, innocent eyes. Yes, indeed. This job was going to be interesting. I just needed to make sure I didn't do any accidental conjuring.