#field operations

"Creature Feature?" Darcy offered. "I Was A Teenaged Werewolf and Godzilla with subtitles?" "Make it both Godzilla?" Tony asked, and Darcy pouted, her bottom lip sticking out. "Oh come on --" "Darcy," Steve's voice rang out from the hall. "You busy?" "Yep!" She replied. "Watching brainless TV and pretending the outside world doesn't exist for the day, Steve." Tony frowned as Steve came in, jumped onto the couch. "Share the blanket," he said, grabbing some of the brightly patterned fabric.  He looked down at said pattern, then back up at her, raising an eyebrow.   “Falcon?" "Tech enhanced and studly, this way no blow to your ego or Steve's," she shrugged. Tony considered, nodded. "Makes sense. So, Herculoids?" "Space Ghost next or the Tarzan/Zorro/Lone Ranger Hour?" She asked brightly. Tony saw Steve shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Space Ghost.  Are you Jan or Blip?" "Definitely Blip. He saves everybody all the time," Darcy said, nodding firmly. "Steve, why are you still standing? You can't watch cartoons standing." "I'm not watching cartoons," Steve said, though he glanced at the screen. "There's Zorro?" "The Zorro/Lone Ranger/Tarzan Hour," Darcy replied helpfully. "I think it lasted two seasons in the eighties, and then Filmation did a reboot in the late 90s, early 2000s." "Thanks. Look, Darcy --“ Steve began, and she held up her hand. "Am I about to get a lecture?" "Not a lecture," Steve said. "I want to know why you didn't tell us about the situation in Eastern Europe escalating." "One; the Avengers are not the parents of the world, two, I asked him if he wanted you to know and he said no, and three, I know damn good and well you were briefed on the situation within an hour of my having the information so four, fuck off and let me watch cartoons." Darcy said the last with a bright, toothy smile, one that Tony recognized a bit too well; you don’t have the right to give me shit, was the sentiment behind that kind of smile. "I was not informed that you had gone on a date with him the evening before," Steve said, frowning. "Listen, Darce, I'm sure there's lots of perfectly nice guys in New York, heck, that work in the building, that would love to date you." "Wait." Darcy paused the cartoon and looked up at Steve. "Are you trying to tell me who I can date, Steve?" "I just.." He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight awkwardly. "He's not a good guy, Darce.” Tony watched all of this avidly, his gaze switching back and forth between the two, picking up the box of Lucky Charms beside Darcy and popping some into his mouth before it hit him, and he snickered. "I said I'm jealous, I'm jealous again," he sang, and Darcy paled. "Is that what this is?" She asked, slowly pushing the comforter off her lap and rising to her feet to face Steve. "Are you jealous, Steve?" "I just don't think you're thinking this through is all," Steve said. "He's talking a great game and he's got kind of a dangerous thing about him, gals like that, I knew a girl in Brooklyn who dated one of Meyer Lansky's friends because of that." "Hey.  Steve.  Stop now.  You're just digging yourself deeper," Tony said, watching Darcy's face turn a mottled red. "Too late, you're fucked, been nice knowing you." "First," Darcy hissed, "you're not my dad, my grandpa, my brother, or even my cousin. And even if you were, you still wouldn't have the right to tell me who I can date, fuck, kiss, make out with or go down on. You got that, Rogers?"   "I'm just --"

"Second," she interrupted him, poking him with her fingernail, "if you wanted a fucking date, you've seen me every day for the last year, you could have asked any time. I might have said yes. I might not have. I never really thought about it, because," she poked in time with her next few words, "you. Never. Asked." "Do you think that's all this is? Me being jealous? I'm just concerned because he's a dictatorial super villain and you're a civilian member of the support team.  I'm concerned what kind of information he might be able to get out of you.  I'm concerned about the safety of the team, and your safety." "You were scared to ask," she said, shaking her head. "And now you're jealous because someone else did. Someone you don't approve of.  Someone you think isn't good for me.  And you're using the other as a cover." She stepped away from him, still shaking her head. "We're done, Steve. If I keep talking, we won't be friends anymore." She reached for her blanket, folded it over her arm, and walked out, strangely dignified for someone wearing footie pajamas. "Tony -" Steve began, but Tony shook his head, standing up. "You fucked up, Rogers. You fucked up hard." He walked out as well, heading for his workshop. Once there, he called Pepper.  "Pepper. Go check on Darcy, would you?" "What's wrong?" "Steve said some shit about her and Doom.  I probably didn't help." "Tony..." Pepper sighed, and he quickly defended himself. "All I said was that Rogers was jealous." "Okay," Pepper replied. "I'll check in with her." "Take her shopping. Do something." "And what will you be doing?" "I'm gonna find something to work on, or else I'm gonna punch Rogers myself.  It wasn't pretty, Pep." "Okay."

Darcy stomped through her apartment, seething. He wasn't even her boyfriend. One date. One. She'd expected a lecture, she'd expected a quiet conversation between friends, she'd expected better. Instead, Captain Motherfucking America had given her the equivalent of the "nice guy" speech. "Bastard," she muttered, flopping into the overstuffed ugly chair she’d thrifted, shaking her head. Jealous.  He was jealous. "Fucker should have said something," she sighed at the ceiling. "He should have. He should have said something."  She closed her eyes, tried to calm her breathing. "Fucker." A knock at the door jarred her out of her reverie. "Who is it?" "Pepper." "Let her in, FRIDAY." The door clicked open, and Pepper slipped in, closing the door firmly behind her before kneeling in front of Darcy, smiling gently. "You okay?" "Yep.  Peachy keen." Darcy bared her teeth. It wasn't a smile. "Tony told me." "Figured." "You knew not everyone would approve." "I knew he wouldn't," Darcy said, sitting up, leaning forward. "But trying to hide his jealousy behind concern for the team is bullshit." "True.  And you did the right thing, walking away." "I'm a grownup," Darcy nodded. "I didn't slap him. Even when he intimated I don't know what I'm doing." "Do you?" "No. But does anybody, when it comes to dating?" "Good point," Pepper agreed. "Want to go shopping? We'll get something lovely and elegant for the next time you see Victor.  Tony’s dime." "Yes," Darcy agreed. "Something in green."

The reinforced heavy bag shook with every punch, Steve's labored breathing echoing in his ears as he poured his frustrations into physical activity.  "Hey," he heard from behind him, and turned to see Sam standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Bad day?" One last punch. "Darcy's dating Doom." Sam tossed him a towel, and he wiped the sweat from his face. "I...didn't handle it well." "You didn't see the chemistry between them the other night after the fight at the pool?" Sam asked, and Steve looked away. "You did." "He's a dictator, Sam. Rules his country with an iron fist, what would he do with a swell dame like Darcy?" Steve crossed to the fridge, took out a bottle of water, drank it down in a few gulps, took out another and drank half of that. "He seemed okay the other night," Sam began. "Isn't he changing stuff in Latveria? Moving toward democracy?" "So he says," Steve snapped. "I've got legitimate concerns, Sam. Sure, he's saying all the right things right now, but what if he's not playing straight?  Heck, how long until he gets a wild hair to go after Sue Richards again?  At best, Darcy's a distraction to a guy like him.  And I don't want to see her hurt." "Wow." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Let's start with why you're so upset over this." "She's a member of the support team.  She lives here.  She's got a lot of info that Doom could use against us," Steve said, keeping his gaze on the bottle in his hand. "Nothing to do with the way you watch her sometimes," Sam said dryly. "Nope, you're not jealous." "My personal feelings aren't involved," Steve snapped. "This is purely about the team and about her value to it.  Do you think I don't know that everyone seems to see her as a sort of baby cousin or baby sister?  She charms Tony, she soothes Natasha and Clint, she does Wanda's hair --" "She does Bruce's dictation, she is literally Thor's adopted sister, and she plays video games with me and Clint," Sam finished.  "She set up movie night for you, and she's teaching Vision how to knit, getting him used to tactile sensations and how to gauge his strength.  Yeah, Steve.  We all love her in our way.  But you notice nobody else is freaking out because she had a date with Doom." "Natasha knew.  Natasha helped her get ready," Steve said, shaking his head. "I don't understand how she of all people isn't seeing this as --" "Natasha isn't interested in her," Sam said flatly. "You are. And you're jealous, and you're angry with yourself because you think you waited too long." Steve's jaw jutted out, but he stayed quiet.  "Darcy likes you.  But Steve, as hard as it is for you to hear, she doesn’t like you like that."  

“She doesn’t have to, I’m not standing here saying she has to, I just -- he’s not -- he’s not right for her. He’s not,” Steve insisted, and Sam shrugged.

“Here’s the thing, Steve.  You’re a hero, you’re an all around good guy, but you can’t see the future.  You don’t know that.  You don’t know that he’s not gonna be good to her.  You don’t know how this is going to end, if it’s going to end. She might break up with him.  She might marry his ass.  We don’t know, and you know what?  That’s not on us,” Sam pointed out, half-smiling.  “It’s not on us, man.  She’s a grown-ass woman, okay.  She’ll make her own choices.  And she might end up with a broken heart, but you know what?  Those heal.  If he goes chasing after Sue Richards again, I don’t have any doubt but what Darcy will get ‘Tasha or Clint to fly her to Latveria, she’ll tell him off to his face and come home and eat ice cream and get over it.  She’s a grownup.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not a security concern,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.  “He’s still an unknown at this time.  Okay, I can’t say he’s an enemy, I can say I don’t know him, and based on his past, I don’t trust him.”

“Nobody says you have to. You just have to trust Darcy.” Sam clapped Steve on the arm.  “Come on.  Let’s go get a shake.”  Slowly, Steve nodded and headed to the locker room.

 DOOMBOT BRIGADE 1328 ONLINE.

…..WORKING….

UPDATE DOWNLOADED.  PLEASE STAND BY FOR INSTALLATION.

…WORKING….

INSTALLATION COMPLETE. ORDERS WITHIN PARAMETERS. ACCEPTED.

The line of sleek metal war machines spread out, a faint blue glow about them as they began to advance toward the enemy’s position, the Ukrainian general watching from behind the lines via satellite feed.  The once serene field echoed with gunfire within seconds, the Soviet forces opening up on the advancing robots, their green and chrome metallic bodies slender, but still making fantastic targets.  Nothing happened.  The machine gun fire didn’t slow them, didn’t stop them.  An artillery shell’s whine was heard, then the explosion seen, driving up dirt, grass, debris.  The line didn’t stop, simply walking through the crater left by the shelling, relentlessly moving forward.

“Advance behind the ‘bots,” the general ordered.  “Slowly. Artillery, take their bearings and the force field into consideration as you figure trajectory.”  The Ukrainian forces fell in behind their robotic allies, the infantry nervously looking around, wincing at the sound of gunfire ahead of them, weapons at the ready.  The artillery boomed behind them, arcing up and well over the Doombots at targets beyond them.  

APPROACHING OPTIMAL RANGE. WEAPONS CHARGED.  ENGAGE ENEMY?

The general tapped “yes” on his tablet.

COMMAND ACCEPTED.  ENGAGING ENEMY COMBATANTS.

Five thousand rifles rose in steel hands.  Five thousand visual sensors found targets.  Five thousand laser rifles began to fire as the Doombots kept walking.

WOUNDED ENEMY COMBATANTS. CAPTURE YES/NO?

The general swallowed, tapping yes.

COMMAND ACCEPTED. DISENGAGING 100 UNITS FOR CAPTURE/CONTAINMENT.  FIELD AID YES/NO?

Yes again.

COMMAND ACCEPTED.  ENEMY COMBATANTS RETREATING/RETRENCHING. PURSUE YES/NO?

No.  The orders were clear; let the first few skirmishes retreat and send word back in hopes that the Soviet would realize they no longer held the upper hand, and would sue for peace.

COMMAND ACCEPTED. WARNING.  WARNING.  AIR STRIKE APPROACHING, APPROXIMATELY TWO MINUTES UNTIL ARRIVAL.  ENGAGE FLIGHT CAPACITY YES/NO?

Yes.

A third of the brigade stopped in their tracks, their legs locking together, slowly rising into the air until they reached about fifty feet off the ground, then cutting through the sky as easily and as quickly as a bird, heading toward the approaching bombers and jets.

“Jesus Christ,” the general’s aide muttered, watching as the Doombots dealt out death, seemingly unstoppable.  “Thank fuck he’s on our side.  How many of these do you think he has?”

“What, robots or brigades of robots?”  The general muttered.  “Who knows?” The aide shook her head, eyes glued to the screens.

“Thanks so much for making me feel better.”

“I’m not trying.  Doom is a genius.  And just think, these are only the field troops.  Have you seen the elite forces?”

“No.  Do I want to?”  She asked. In response, the general slid his tablet page over two pages.

“The elite forces are carbon copies of Doom’s armor,” he began, holding out the tablet so she could see. “Robotic, so they have none of his special talents, but they are capable of independent thought, they don’t rely solely on orders.  They command his field forces in Latveria, and it’s said they have more abilities than the ground pounders.”

“Dear God.”  She shook her head.  “Attacking Latveria --“

“Would be, is folly.  No one knows how many of these he has, no one knows how many of the field troops he has.  All of that is secret.  Not to mention the force field generators throughout the country.”

“Again.  Thank God he’s on our side.”

 Victor smiled to himself, watching through the cameras in the visual sensors of the ground troops as they engaged the Soviet throughout Ukraine, looking for weaknesses, areas to improve.  There was always room for improvement.  “Status report.”

FORCE FIELDS HOLDING.  BATTERY CAPABILITY RANGING FROM 80 TO 95 PERCENT.

“Current losses?”

CURRENT LOSSES AT LESS THAN THREE PERCENT, was the answer from one of the Doppelganger Doombots.

“Excellent.  What caused those?”

WIRING DISLODGED DUE TO SHOCK FROM ARTILLERY/BOMBING, FAULTY BATTERY, FAULTY SERVO GEARS IN JOINT AREAS.

“Have the faulty units returned to the technicians,” he ordered.  “Delegate two units per compromised unit for recovery and return operations.”

AS DOOM COMMANDS, the Doppelganger unit bowed its head.  

“What is the situation in Poland?”

ALL DOOMBOTS ARE IN POSITION FOR INTERCEPTION.  NEW PROGRAMMING HAS BEEN DOWNLOADED, INSTALLED, UPDATED.  AWAITING ENEMY COMBATANTS.

“Excellent.  Continue current operational plans.”

 The Ukrainian commanders were effusive in their praise.  The casualty rate had been cut by eighty percent, every skirmish had ended with the Russian forces being forced into retreat, and they had taken back a full twenty miles of front.  “It’s a slow process,” one of them said with a shrug.  “And this is open terrain; I’m not looking forward to clearing cities, even with your ‘bots, Lord Doom.  If you’ll forgive my plain speech,” the man added, looking a little chagrined as he remembered his manners.

“Good soldiers speak plainly,” Victor replied, nodding.  “Taking cities is always a difficult endeavor, major, especially when civilians are at risk, and provocateurs are easily hidden.”

“We’ll work out the strategy,” one of the other commanders said.  “One of the main issues is sniper fire.  They won’t hurt the ‘bots, of course, but the men coming in behind them.”

“The Doombots are fully capable of flushing out sniper nests by tracing the line of fire,” Victor informed them.  “And then flushing out the nests.”

“We’ll work it out,” the commander repeated, though he was jotting that down.  “But so far, Lord Doom, your aid has been invaluable.”  

“Better to put out my neighbor’s fire than to wait until my own wagon catches,” Victor paraphrased one of his people’s sayings.  “My only regret is that it took so long.”

“The past is past, let it stay there,” another interjected, shrugging his shoulders, and they went on to discuss their next strategies.

When the teleconference was finished, he studied the battlefield, gauged the response of the New Soviet, and called for one of the Doppelganger units.  “I must be away for a few hours,” he said.  “Inform me immediately if anything changes.”

YES, LORD DOOM.