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Darcy thought she was calm.
Above everything else, the one thing you could depend on Darcy for was for her to keep her cool.
In fifth grade, when Sally Miller accidentally knocked over the candles in church and the carpet had flickered alight, everybody else had immediately burst into panic. Other kid in her class immediately sprinted away, screaming and inadvertently creating a huge crowd in the centre aisle. Teachers fought through the throng, soothing crying kids while simultaneously trying to get close enough to put the fire out. Darcy? She calmly slipped out of her jacket and dropped it onto the spreading fire, muffling the flames.
Suffice to say, her dad made her move schools after that.
When she turned nine and a swarm of unknown assailants in ski masks broke into her house, she didn't scream. She didn't cry. Nope, she simply grabbed the baseball bat from her closet and quietly clambered into the ceiling vents.
Only one of the goons actually made it into her room, the rest being caught by her dad. When he was looking in the bathroom for her (the assailant, not her dad), she silently dropped from the ceiling before using his head as practice for her swing.
Darcy had kept her head all the way through her childhood, through pain, suffering and the occasional explosion.
The only time she had ever lost it was when her dad was held hostage in a small cave in the middle of a desert.
So Darcy decided that it was fair enough when, on the year that she turned twenty three, she was woken up by the sound of shattering glass and Jarvis' calm insistence that 'everything is fine', that it would be allright to lose her cool.
Grabbing the baseball bat from beside her bed - old habits die hard - she sprinted out into the main living room of the penthouse. Glass littered the ground, though that didn't matter much compared to the man in gold and green clothes that were straight out of a Renaissance fair. He stood in front of the large windows that acted as walls for the entire floor. Currently, the centre window had a large, jagged hole in the middle and as she watched, the man ducked while large hunks of familiar red and gold armour flew through the gap and down, spiralling towards the ground.
Darcy gasped as the pieces of the puzzle fit together in her head.
"You bastard." She grit out through her teeth, raising the bat over her shoulder as the man turned to look at her.
Black hair hung loosely around his ears and his eyes glittered viciously. The armour he wore was more embellished than she had first assumed and large golden antlers protruded form his head in a sick replica of a reindeer. His flexed his fingers around the shiny, golden staff in his hand.
"And who might you be?" He enquired, lips twisting into a malicious smirk.
"I'm the person who's going to beat you the fuck up." She spat out, slowly advancing as he outright laughed.
"Am I supposed to be frightened of you? A mere mortal?" He sputtered, the laughter making his usual elegance abandon him. He looked up and down her form appraisingly, nodding in almost approval. "You must be Stark's daughter." He commented conversationally, staring at her Iron Man boxers. "Who would have thought that that drunk could produce such a beautiful woman?"
She sneered. "And who would have thought that Odin could produce such a disappointment?"
His smirk dropped instantly, replaced by a scowl.
Darcy continued. "Well I guess he didn't produce you. You're adopted. You're not true Asguardian blood." She smiled thinly at him. "No wonder Thor got the crown over you."
"Don't talk about that insufferable oaf!" His voice slowly raised, tone menacing.
"He's hardly an insufferable oaf if he's more worthy of being King than you." She countered, smirking.
"He is not worthy!"
"Is that why he's the only one capable of carrying Mew-mew?"
"Silence! You mewling quim!" He roared. His fists clenched around the shiny stick in his hand as his entire body vibrated in anger.
"Oh wow, I guess that you guys aren't nearly advanced enough to forget this misogynistic shit." She dropped her tone to a conspirational whisper. "Just FYI, it's not cool to ditch political correctness, no matter who you are." Her voice resumed it's normal tone again. "Which I'm not entirely clear about by the way. If you're not Asgardian, what the fuck are you?"
"I am a God!" He replied, his tone of voice practically freezing the air. The pair slowly moved closer and closer together until they were stood an arm's length away.
"You're a fucking smurf." She glared. "Who's having a temper tantrum because Daddy doesn't love you."
"Enough!" He shouted, the sound reverberating through the room. "I am a God you dull creature!" He repeated, taking a step forward, as the scowl marred his handsome features into something cruel and dangerous. He took another step forward and threateningly raised the staff. "I refuse to be bullied-" Darcy took the first move and swung the bat with all her might. It connected with a solid THWACK and she felt rather than heard his nose crunch upon impact.
The God fell back with a cry as she advanced, swinging the bat upwards this time before slamming it against his ribcage. He curled in on himself and the staff hit the ground with a clatter as she moved around his prone body, beating the sense out of him. "You don't..." She heaved. "Come into... Somebody else's world... And start fucking it up... And threatening people..." She raised the bat again, panting heavily. The God took the opportunity and slowly, painfully tried to roll away. Darcy trailed after him, weapon raised. "You especially don't. Fuck. With. Starks." She emphasised each word by slamming the bat on his body.
Darcy finally paused to catch her breath when a voice rang in through the window.
"And there's another person you've pissed off... " Iron man's robotic voice shouted through the broken glass. Darcy looked up at him with a smirk as a groaning Loki clambered to his knees. She readied her bat with glee as her dad raised his hand. He spoke just as she swung. "His name is Phil." He shouted, firing a repulsor blast as the bat connected solidly with the back of the God's head and splintered into a thousand pieces, the top end breaking off. The blast hit his stomach, forcing his torso backwards as the bat made his head fly forwards. The result was the God almost flipping forwards before landing face down on the ground with a groan that shook his bones.
The face plate of Iron Man's armour slid upward to reveal Tony's glaring face. "Darce, get to safety!" He shouted.
Yes, Darcy thought as she sprinted back to her room, holding onto the now broken bat with all her might.
It was definitely allright for her to sometimes stop being calm.