Author's Note: I really need to stop starting new fics/ficlets, but these ideas won't leave me alone. Arghhh! However, these CROSSOVER ONE-SHOTS will not be a regular thing. Yes, I do have several ideas for these ficlets (each ficlet will most likely be centered around Darcy Lewis), but these will only be written when struck by the sudden inspiration to do so because my main focus will be elsewhere. But as you can see, my attention wandered so I give you the first ficlet in 'Darcy vs. the Multi-Verse'.

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?"

But instead of answering, Darcy's attention turns to the archer who's trying to come up on her right. "Seriously, you're close enough," she tells him and he stops in his tracks. "I'm here on friendly terms in hopes you'll hear what I have to say. If you like what you here, you'll have a brand new home within the hour. If not, I walk away and you never see me again." The group doesn't waver with their aim and Darcy sighs. "Jesus Christ, guys!" And then seeing the dark skinned Father, she sheepishly grins. "Sorry, Padre."

"Enough," Mr. Colt Python practically hisses. "Name. Now."

"Darcy," she immediately replies. "Darcy Lewis."

"What's your business with us, Darcy Lewis?"

"I'm looking for survivors," she says after a beat. Her fingers flex beside her head from where her hands are still up and she shifts her weight from foot to foot. "Survivors who haven't let the world compromise their morals too much to the point where there's no return for them. The good, honest survivors get pointed out to us, and we go an round them up to bring them to a safe-zone."

"Safe-zone?" A ginger-haired man perks up, but Mr. Colt Python seems to bristle at her words.

"Pointed out to you? How the hell are survivors pointed out to you? You spyin' on us?"

Darcy gulps when that seems to make others bristle, and she shakes her head. "Not really. It's just- my people-"

"You are or you ain't," the archer grunts. "Which is it?"

Darcy's gaze darts between Mr. Colt Python and the archer, she mentally kicking herself for outing herself early on. "Oh, screw it," she says. Her hands fall to her sides before she slowly lifts them to plant them on her hips, and blurts the truth right at them. "Manhattan's the safe-zone. It's been quarantined off by the Avengers and a few other enhanced superheros that stuck around. I'm the only friendly face around with enough experience on the outside which is why I'm on recruitment duty."

"Superheroes?" The ginger-haired man scoffs. "You telling us you bunkin' with a bunch of superheroes and they send you on the dangerous missions of recruitin?"

"Well, I didn't say I came alone." Once again, the group tenses and Darcy mentally curses herself. "Yes, I have back-up and no they won't show themselves," she says before any demands can be made. "Like I said, friendly terms. If you don't wanna come back with me then we can all walk away without ever seeing each other again."

Mr. Colt Python doesn't look too happy about that, but instead he's focused on something else. "How did you know to come after us? That we aren't too compromised?"

Darcy finally flashes them a smile- a slow one at that. "Avengers, dude. Thor's my bro. Anyone familiar with Norse Mythology?" Mullet Man raises his hand and a few others reluctantly nod. "Then I'm sure you all know about Heimdall."

"Heimdall? What the hell is that?" The archer spits.

"He's the Guardian of Asgard- Thor's home planet," a lanky teen replies, he adjusting a baby in his arms. His gaze darts from the archer and then back to Darcy. "All-Seeing and All-Hearing, right?"

"Got it in one, kid," she grins and shoots him a quick wink. "Since Thor's King of Asgard now and his lady love/future queen of Asgard is of Earth, Thor's been helping us mere humans out a lot," she confesses with a careless shrug. "He has Heimdall watching over Earth, seeking out the survivors who are still good at heart. He led us to you and I brought water as a peace offering, but apparently you rather waste clean water than drink it."

Everyone's seems speechless after Darcy's little explanation, some guns having lowered while others have been holstered.

"If Earth has help from the higher-ups, why has it taken years for you to find us?" And wow, Mr. Colt Python is very suspicious.

"You don't know?" Darcy asks and then rolls her eyes at her own stupidity. "Of course you don't know," she sighs.

"Don't know what?"

Darcy meets the curly-haired man's gaze, she wondering what he looks like beneath the wild salt-n-pepper beard he's sporting. "Out of the billions of people of Earth, only a handful of thousands have survived. And out of thousands, only so many kept their wits about him and didn't turn into cannibals or scavenging killers." Again, people are struck speechless.. (though could they be considered speechless since only Mr. Colt Python is doing a majority of the talking?). "We started out over seas, picking up the good people who were willing to give us a chance and brought them to Manhattan."

"Overseas?" A dreadlocked woman asks. "You have fuel for such trips?"

"Lady, we have resources like you wouldn't believe all thanks to Tony Stark and that brilliant mind of his. Though if you decide to come back with me, don't tell him I said that. His ego is big enough."

"T-Tony Stark?" the teen stammers- though this teen is dark-skinned and his eyes are round with awe. "We'll actually get to meet Iron Man?"

Darcy smiles again. "Yeah. When we started transferring people to the safe-zone, we put them in buildings surrounding Stark Tower. But now that the city is pretty much full, you all will come back to the Tower. We started filling the tower only a week ago so there will be other civilians there besides you all."

Looks of disbelief is plain on the faces of the group, and Darcy waits patiently. Then after a few minutes of the group whispering among themselves, Mr. Colt Python gives her his attention once more.

"Say we believe you and makes ourselves at home with your people. Do we have to earn our keep? Will we be able to leave the tower if it gets too.. stuffy?"

"If leaving is what you want, you're free to do it. But you don't have to earn your keep or anything. If you want, you can laze around and enjoy the perks of being normal again. But if you wanna work, you can work. Hawkeye has a very secluded and very secure farm that we use for planting crops and raising some animals, but we mostly get our food from Asgard who sends down a big heap of goods every couple of months. We have a Science Division that's working on an Immunization shot against whatever the hell this disease is so if you get bit or die of natural causes, you won't turn, so if you got any smart-asses in your ranks, you'll fit right in. And not only that, but I'm sure some of you can worm your way into rotation for supply runs- supplies in which the great Tony Stark can't make."

There are a few hopeful expressions, but they obviously need a quick discussion privately. Darcy lets them have their moment and then when a few suspicious glances turn her way, she's ready for whatever they throw at her.

"Ain't gonna lie," the burly ginger-haired man huffs. "-you paint a pretty picture. But how do we know you ain't pullin' our chain about these superheroes and the safety they provide?"

Smirking, Darcy starts taking slow steps backwards. With one hand sliding into the back of her jean's pocket, she uses the other to bring up to her mouth and shoves two fingers in her mouth to blow a sharp whistle. "I guess you'll just have to show an ounce of trust for the half hour ride it'll take to get back to the tower."

Mr. Colt Python starts raising his weapon once more- as does the archer- but then Darcy's cackling as she sees them all freeze, they're gazes sliding from her and up to the now disillusioned quinjet that's at her back. She can hear the gears of the jet working as the ramp lowers and she peers over her shoulder just as two men stomp down and meet her on the asphalt. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to Hawkeye and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

"Holy shit!" Several voices announce.

xXx

In the back of the quinjet, tension is running high. However, this tension is not the type to start a fight, but rather it's building because everyone's anxious to have actual safety. Since no one had been too talkative other than properly introducing themselves, Darcy had babbled on and on about the perks of Stark Tower, especially about the game systems and humongous flat screen TVs that seemed to appeal to the two teenagers. And when the Tower finally comes into view, there is no stopping Rick, Daryl, or Abraham who stand behind the cockpit to peer out the windshield.

There's a small welcoming committee composed of Steve, Tony and Pepper, and the others are struck dumb once again at the sight of Captain America.

"Welcome, welcome," Tony dramatically greets them with a mock bow when they finally step down the ramp on onto the landing pad. "My brilliant mind and I welcome you to my humble abode."

Darcy groans and reaches into her back pocket, pulling free a rectangular device. "You hacked my phone?!"

"Of course I did."

"Wait, phone?" Maggie says in awe as Darcy grumbles about crossing boundaries again. "You have working telephones?"

"Stark Phones, actually," Tony smirks at her. "Having your own power source has its perks and I've been supplying anyone and everyone in the city with a phone."

"Yes," Pepper steps in politely. "-and when you're all settled in, you'll each get your personal cellular device again."

"But what exactly do we need phones for?" Sasha wonders. "I mean, we're all staying in the tower, right? Or are you splitting us up?"

"No, no," Pepper quickly interjects when a few people tense. "Each residential floor of the tower has four living quarters- each equipped with two bedrooms, an office, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Since you're a big group, you'll get your own floor and can split up however you decide."

"And we're really not expected to do anything except sit on our asses?" Daryl's eyes narrow suspiciously.

"You can work or you can relax," Steve nods. "The only people who live in the tower are people who work for what they have, but your group and a few others lucked out. The city ran out of livable space so we started bringing survivors here. Having a job is up to you and no one is going to force you to do anything or hand out ultimatums."

The group of survivors glance at one another, and then Maggie is sheepishly raising her hand. "My daddy used to make me work on a farm. Darcy mentioned a farm and some animals, so if you need help with that-"

"Score!" Clint fist-pumps. "I have this one mare who's an absolute nightmare. Please tell me you can work with horses?"

Brief amusement flashes quickly over Glenn and Maggie's faces, and Maggie nods. "Horses are easy."

"Good. The next trip out isn't for another few days, so rest up and whoever wants to work on the farm can tag along."

"Will we be- will be staying on the farm if we decide to work there?" Glenn asks.

"Nah," Clint shakes his head. "The longest I stay on the farm is two days at a time- one day to tend to the crops and the other to tend to the animals before heading back here to the tower. I have a four bedroom home there, but I don't stay away from the tower longer than I have to."

"Well then it's settled. I'd like to work on the farm," Maggie says.

"A lot of us are good at scavenging supplies," Rick tells Steve, voice gruff and determined. "So if it's not too much trouble, we'd like to help hunt down whatever supplies you don't have."

"That's good," Steve agrees. "Our scavenging groups are made up mostly of enhanced individuals, but if you're as good as Heimdall has said, I'd like to keep our enhanced protecting home instead out being out in the open. However, some enhanced like myself, Bucky, and Natasha will be remaining on those scavenging trips."

For the first time since being picked up, Rick smiles. "Well alright then." Glancing around at his group, he nods. "I guess this is home."