Darcy Lewis takes on the world! (Or you know, the one where fandoms collide and Darcy is present, and/or secretly related to someone else from another fandom).
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Darcy trudges forward with a huff, a case of water in her arms weighing her down before she comes to a stop and sets it down in the middle of the road. Straightening up, she takes out a pen and a pad of post-its from her jacket pocket, and scribbles out a quick note.
From a friend. -D
She squats, slaps the note atop the case and stands once more. Job done, she turns back around and jogs about twenty yards away to an abandoned car and takes refuge behind it so those walking up the road behind her can't see her. She sits her ass on the heated asphalt, sighing out and glaring in the direction where she knows her back-up and transportation awaits.
Currently at the Tower, she is the only friendly face- a face which had yet to harden through the years of the undead eating the living- with just enough experience to go out recruiting. Jane's in Asgard, Natasha's too intimidating, and Pepper's been running on a short fuse the past couple of weeks. And the other females, well they're too civilian for the job. So here Darcy sits under the blazing sun and in the suffocating humidity as she waits for the next batch of survivors to show up.
As Darcy waits, she grumbles some and pushes the sleeves of her jacket up to her elbows before ripping off a hair-tie from her wrist. She quickly finger-combs her hair and pulls it over her left shoulder to sloppily braid it, she then sighing and leaning against the car at her back.
After what seems like an hour, Darcy finally hears voices. Some sound curious, others sound angry. And not wanting to be seen by peeking her head up, Darcy turns so she's on her knees and lays flat on her stomach to peer beneath the car at the group that she'd been sent to try and recruit.
It's a group of fifteen people- a group in which Heimdall sent word that they were honest survivors and that they needed to be led to safety. So as the Avengers gathered and plotted, it was determined that Darcy would meet them face to face. There was the fear that harm could befall Darcy because even though these people were dubbed 'honest survivors', there was no telling to how they'd greet a suspicious newcomer. But seeing a chubby man with a mullet practically dive for one of the water bottles only to have it slapped out of his hand when he attempts a drink spurs Darcy into action without thinking. She sneers at their waste of clean water and pushes to her feet, she only making it six steps out before she's noticed and weapons are trained on her.
Darcy's hands immediately fly up in surrender, she rolling her eyes as part of the group advance in a rush. "Hold it right there," she calls out when they're less than five yards away. "I come in peace; I mean you no harm."
"Yeah? We'll be the judge of that," a man says. His Colt Python is gripped tight in hand though his aim is towards the road. "Who the hell are you?"
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