@aprilmillerphd
“It stared back with eyes that swam in dark liquid, furrowed trenches of carbon-black flesh loose on its hunched frame, its mouth hinged open grotesquely so that a mass of long eel-like tongues could wriggle out.” --Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children page 37, by Ransome Riggs.
Darcy never understood how she and April got into these sorts of situations. How they could go from a normal day in their respective offices pushing paperwork and either grading essays or reviewing volume after volume of casework to whatever this was. Frankly, Darcy was feeling very much like she and April got zapped into a Slenderman game. Or some kind of horror movie.
She was not as adept as running in heels as April was, goddammit.
Maybe this was the problem with being associated with supers and SHIELD. Darcy knew that April wanted to distance herself from the shady organization, but neither of them could’ve anticipated this bullshit.
A SHIELD warehouse in the middle of the night in lockdown with something from whatever portal the alien artifact had spat out while April was trying to translate the instructions. Again. It was an intern that activated it. Again. The intern was the first to go. April and Darcy had bolted together because this was not at all what they were trained to deal with. April did words and Darcy did law. That was it. This was too much, and Darcy intended to charge Nick Fury personally for her therapy bills. And personal damages. Because honestly?
They were navigating their way through the labyrinthine complex, attempting to find some form of communication that wasn’t preemptively confiscated for “security purposes” and some kind of weaponry that didn’t make Darcy feel like cavemen trying to take on the fucking Predator.
“New rule,” she whispered harshly in April’s direction. “You fucking ban interns and everyone who isn’t a security type person from rooms with alien tech that could fucking kill us or I will haunt you like a fucking Poltergeist.”
