Chapter Text
“Hello Miss Lewis. I require something from you. ”
Darcy, standing over a sink, shrieks louder than Cap when Tony grabbed his ass that first time and promptly drops the mug she was trying to get coffee stains out of. Goddamn scientists who leave half empty mugs in the weirdest places. And now sneak up on her out of the blue.
“Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle! What the hell?!” Darcy yells as she avoids the mug shards that are now everywhere.
“Wait… Oh. Oh. Oooooh.”
She sees Green. Lots of it. And armor. And horns. Oh, this is not good. Not good at all. Quickly backtracking, Darcy tries to get herself out of the royal mess this is sure to turn into.
“Uh… Hi. How are you? Can I help you? Do I need to kneel or something? Cause I can totally do that. Well, I won’t kneel to do THAT. I’m not that scared of you yet. Though you are very scary and impressively god-like”
Smooth, Darce. Real smooth. That’s a great way to keep the big evil super god thing from killing you. And the expression on said god’s face is very quickly moving towards annoyance.
“Enough.” Loki growls. “Your words are meaningless. They simply postpone the inevitable. I require something from you to give them. I think I now know what that should be.”
Oh crap. She really should be yelling for Clint right about now. And why hasn’t JARVIS done anything?
“Errr, no chance this is going to go down like Howl and Calcifer and the hair –“
Her snarky reply is cut off as Loki simply raises an arm, grabs her by the throat and squeezes.
No. Air. Oh god. Oh god.
Hah. God. For a moment she still has enough air left to appreciate the irony of that.
Not for long though. After a few precious seconds, her fight or flight response kicks in. Darcy starts flailing, kicking and thrashing, all with the hope that’ll she hit a sensitive spot and break his hold just for a minute so she can get one precious breath of air. Just when the multitudes of dark spots are starting to give way to total darkness he lets go.
Darcy, wheezing, collapses to the floor.
“Thank you Miss Lewis. I greatly appreciate this. Not that you had a choice really, but still.” Loki drawls over her prone form.
Still wheezing, Darcy regains control of her body just long enough to see Loki disappear holding something oddly…. glowy in his hand.
Well, she thinks. That could have gone worse, but it definitely wasn’t a ride on a magical unicorn. Okay Darcy. You’re still breathing and all limbs appear to be intact. Now would be a really good time to scream for Clint.
Taking as deep of a breath as her abused throat will allow she yells “-----“
Wait what? Why didn’t that work? Darcy tries again and “---.” Nothing. Zilch. Zip. Nada.
You know what they say; the third time is the charm. One last go and “----.” Nothing. Again.
Oh this is priceless. Darcy Lewis, Queen of Rambling, Snark and everything verbal, has no voice.
----
Okay, Darcy. Don’t panic. It could just be residual damage from the whole throat-choking thing.
Or, knowing Loki, it could be something else. Taking into account some of the things he said before he tried to practically decapitate her, it was looking more and more like she should place it firmly in the “Or Something Else” category.
Now she’s starting to panic. Deep breath. Ow. That really hurts. Not important Darcy. What should she do? JARVIS is out, cause she can’t communicate with him. And why hasn’t he said anything yet? She’d have thought the arrival of Loki Laufeyson in the Avengers Tower would have raised at least a few eyebrows, and at most the arrival of shit-tons of SHIELD agents.
Avengers Tower. Which is where all the Avengers live. One of those Avengers is a doctor and another has the best doctors in the world at his beck and call. Not her worst idea ever.
It was probably best to go see Banner first. Voluntarily facing Tony Stark and being incapable of defending herself from his snark would just be masochistic.
Having decided on a plan of action, Darcy slowly peels herself off the kitchen floor checking for any unnoticed injuries as she goes. With nothing inhibiting her mobility, besides some serious post-adrenaline shakes at least, she takes a few tentative steps towards her door.
The movement is what seems to break the wall between her and sheer panic. Stifling back sobs she moves quickly out towards the hallway, with only one clear thought still in her head: Get to Banner. He can fix this.
Practically sprinting by this point, Darcy takes the stairs two at a time to Banner’s lab three floors down. This far up in the Tower no one ever uses them, and the last thing she wants is some random Stark flunky seeing her in the elevators and running straight to Pepper and consequently to Tony.
Bursting through the door, she catapults herself over a desk positioned across the entrance to the labyrinth of glass walled labs. Two lefts and right later she hits, no literally, smashes into Bruce’s lab. Thunk.
Good job. Do MORE damage to yourself.
She frantically types her access code into the keypad on the door, shaking fingers inhibiting her progress, but Banner opens the door for her first.
“Darcy? My god, are you okay? Come in, quickly.” Taking in her rushed breathing and by now ruined mascara, Bruce holds the door wide for her, ever cautious of his personal space.
She walks in and finds the nearest chair. She is still trying to stop her hands from shaking when a brown paper bag is thrust in front of her face.
“Here. It should help with the hyperventilating.” Calmly, Bruce squats down in front of her, below eye level, and grabs her hand. “Now, take a few minutes and then try to tell me what happened.”
Deep breaths. You can do this Darcy.
“-----“ And nothing comes out again. How on earth is she supposed to explain what the problem is when she literally can’t explain?
Frustrated, she lets out something between an animalistic growl and a wail.
“Darcy? What’s wrong?” Bruce asks again, this time taking a few moments to look her over more thoroughly. He doesn’t need to go any further than her neck. Now that he’s sure she’s not going to pass out, he can see the giant, hand sized bruises on her neck.
Bruce goes eerily still.
“I see.” A simple statement that seems to convey pure rage without ever actually letting it leak through. Still in control, even when purely pissed off, that was Bruce.
“JARVIS?”
“Yes, Dr. Banner?” The AI asks in his quintessential British butler voice.
“Can you please send everyone up here, along with the security footage from Darcy’s rooms? We seem to have had a breach that resulted in her being… injured.”
There is a pregnant pause.
“I will send everyone to you Dr. Banner, but from what I can tell Miss Lewis is still in her apartment. There also appears to be nothing of significance on the security footage.”
Darcy, listening to this, just drops her head down onto the desk in front of her. Thunk. Ow.
Well crap.