DarcyVision Ch. 01

"Will someone get me a useful visual, damn it?" The screen in front of Darcy crackled with canned, studio laughter and caught the man's attention. He snapped his head in her direction. "What is that?" he asked, annoyed as though he was prepared to scold someone for watching videos when they were supposed to be working.

"Can I see you in the kitchen, sweetheart?" Wanda's voice came from the screen.

"Who's doing that?" the old guy asked.

More laughter from the TV.

"Who are those people?" Wanda asked.

"What are you wearing?" Vision asked. Darcy watched the screen intently as she heard the man approaching behind her, hoping he would be astute enough to realize what he was seeing instead of enraged by what he might think he was seeing.

"Well it's our anniversary!" Wanda answered.

"Our anniversary of what?" Vision asked. The FBI agent and the older man and a large, black field agent settled in around Darcy, hovering behind her at the edges of her peripheral vision. It was the FBI agent who leaned in first, clearly confused at what he was seeing but realizing it might be incredibly important in some way.

"Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" Wanda complained.

"Is that..." the FBI agent started to ask, clearly beginning to see what he was seeing.

"Yeah, it looks like her," Darcy answered him, not sure yet what else there was to say. In front of them all, the sitcom continued on, borrowing tropes from several different shows that Darcy herself had watched on Nick at Nite over the years. The situation in the story was contrived: husband and wife both try to figure out what the significance of an event on the calendar is only for hijinks to ensue as neither one is quite right. She'd seen it dozens of times if not hundreds.

"Look, I know it's been a crazy few years on this planet, but he's dead, right?" she asked, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity as she turned to the FBI agent. "Not blipped. Dead."

"What am I looking at?" the old guy asked, clearly not seeing it for what it was. "You," he said, addressing Darcy, "What is this? Where's this coming from?"

She shrugged and gestured. "Out there."

"Is it authentic?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that," she told him, reluctant but willing to admit that she wasn't sure what the transmission's deal was.

He practically interrupted her with his irritated response. "Is it happening in real time? Is it recorded? Fabricated?"

"I don't know, I don't know, and I don't know," she told him, already annoyed at his demeanor. He was too focused on the answer, not focused enough on the question. Science started with observations and theories, not with answers. Leave it to a government, no, military man to be driving straight to the point like that.

"What do you know?" he demanded.

She took a breath. "My equipment registered an extremely high level of CMBR. That's--"

"Relic radiation dating back to the Big Bang," he interrupted.

"Yeah. Entwined was a broadcast frequency, so I had your goons pick me up a sweet vintage TV, and when I plug this bad boy in, voila, sound and picture." On the screen, Wanda made a table's worth of silverware and flatware levitated to their places and settle before declaring that their meal was ready. The old guy was quiet. The command center group was quiet. Behind her, Darcy could hear two of the S.W.O.R.D. agents talking quietly but she couldn't make out what they were saying, only an excited and curious tone of voice.

"So you're saying the universe created a sitcom starring two Avengers?" the FBI agent asked.

Darcy tried to control her face and keep from letting on that she was embarrassed to have her thoughts summed up in such a reductive way. "It's a working theory."

"Get me a transport back to headquarters now," the old guy demanded. Her handler disappeared to comply. "Are we recording this?"

"Never stopped," she answered quickly.

"I need immediate analysis. Now, people, let's go!" And with that, he was gone.

"He's a charmer," Darcy said to the FBI agent with an irritated look on her face.

He smirked, clearly sharing a similar opinion but too professional to be too open with it. "Great work," he told her simply as he stepped away from her workstation.

"Hey, thanks!" she said genuinely, refreshed at someone being basically thoughtful within this group of task-focused agents. He walked off and entered the corridor as well, disappearing from view. Darcy turned in her chair, looking to see that no one was watching anymore and called out to the room to no one in particular. "Maybe I could get that coffee now?" No one moved or acknowledged her. "Or not. That's cool."

On screen, Wanda and Vision shared a kiss as they sat on their couch. "Awww," Darcy said, her face screwing up with sentimentality. She was a sucker for happy endings and smarmy shows; they were her guilty pleasure while she worked. She pushed her chair back and then disconnected and picked up the physio-scope, lifting it and lugging the heavy piece of equipment over to the recording office and plunking it down next to the computer, which was busy storing everything. She knew she couldn't try to stream on the computer while it was pulling in and storing all that data, she'd risk crashing it. But the physio-scope, like the old TV, was analog and wouldn't interfere with her digital operations.

The loud clomping of boots in the corridor was getting to her and she closed the room's door, latching it to give herself a sense of privacy but knowing they could open the door from the outside if they truly chose to. Once that was done she went and connected the physio-scope to the nearest power source and flicked it on, working with the antenna until the picture came to life. Around her, the equipment used a number of probes and antennas to draw information in and the physio-scope added to the humming in the room, the air around her feeling like it was practically alive and electric.

As she tuned the scope in, the same black and white picture as before came into focus. What came into focus, however, was something that Darcy had never seen before on a sitcom of any kind: a steamy bedroom scene.

On the show now, being broadcast over the air, Darcy could see Wanda lying on one of the beds in the couple's bedroom, her body apparently completely naked. Her hair was splayed out on the pillow, her eyes smoking and come-hither as she looked up at Vision, who was above her. Darcy's eyes were drawn down Wanda's body, following along her neck, her collarbone, down her chest to her fair-sized breasts, her nipples hard with arousal. Darcy made a "not-bad" face as she checked out the Avenger's bare breasts, knowing that most people would consider them a good size. Darcy's own breasts were significantly larger than Wanda's. While the Sokovian woman's breasts were average or above, maybe even considered "large" by some, there was no word for Darcy's breasts other than "huge." Hell, calling hers breasts was barely excusable; they were tits...huge tits. Her eyes trailed down Wanda's taut stomach to her belly button and then beyond, her lower body obscured by Vision's own but the dark-haired scientist could see enough to know that Wanda was naked. And she shaved.

Vision's own body was nothing to complain about either, as his artificial musculature seemed to ripple beneath his synthetic skin in a tight but powerful way that Darcy hadn't seen in much of anyone other than Thor. The synthezoid was crouched above the Sokovian woman in a way that made it clear that he was working to enter her with his manhood. Androidhood? Robothood? Darcy's brow furrowed as she questioned the nomenclature but then things began to progress. Wanda moaned lustily and there was no doubting that her husband had entered her and that she enjoyed it. He began thrusting slowly.

Suddenly Darcy's attention was drawn by a slight twinge of pleasure from her own nether regions. Her hand had made its way down between her legs and not only had she been stroking herself but she was actually doing so under her clothes. Without even thinking about it she began rubbing herself more insistently, already feeling like she was beyond having just started. Her mind grew fuzzy and warm and her eyes drifted back to the screen where Vision was thrusting more persistently now, his hips quickly moving forward, the bed scooting ever so slightly, Wanda's breasts bouncing from the force of it, her neck craning as she looked up to the ceiling and moaned again. Darcy's hand began to move more quickly, mimicking Vision's speed, beginning to treat herself in a way that let her surrogate herself into Wanda's place. But was it Vision she wanted, his artificial dick pounding into her several-months-lonely pussy? Or was she staring more at Wanda, whose body moved so enticingly as she was pleasured? Darcy's mind clouded further, her hand sped up, her fingers crept lower and she slipped one into herself, gasping a bit as she entered herself, almost feeling like she could sense a cock within herself.

What was happening to her? She had never thought about masturbating at work, certainly not so openly, and yet here she was surrounded by soldiers and work to do and she was going at herself like a horny college slut, which she hadn't been for quite some time. No, no, that was hardly fair, she had never really been a slut, just a...a connoisseur of good sex, which she tried to get as often as she could reasonably get without damaging her reputation.

Her finger pumped in and out of herself and she could feel it approaching: her first orgasm. Her first? Did that imply more would come? Would she not stop at one? Vision was pumping into Wanda faster and faster and Darcy's finger moved faster and faster and then suddenly there was a second finger in her. Then a third. Three?

Single-mindedly now, Darcy shifted in her seat and turned with her back to the door and then slid her pants down past her ass, practically to her knees, giving herself better access as she found herself once again matching the speed of the couple fucking on the screen. Vision reached down and grasped one of Wanda's breasts and then took her nipple into his mouth. Darcy's free hand came up to one of her tits and squeezed it firmly and then she pinched her nipple as it became hard, almost thinking she could feel tongue on herself. How was that possible?

Suddenly, on screen, Vision humped hard for fifteen seconds straight before holding himself deep inside of Wanda, undoubtedly finishing with whatever passed for a synthetic orgasm and then releasing his artificial seed into her, if he had any. All sorts of questions would've come to her mind had she not been completely lost to horniness as she closed her eyes and barreled straight into an orgasm of her own, her fingers buried deep in her pussy and her right breast in her hand as she finished, unable to keep herself from squeaking out a few high-pitched moans of pleasure as she began to come down.

Her eyes opened. The physio-scope was blank. She looked at the computer and saw flat lines for the broadcast, the CMBR, everything. Not only were they flat now, they were flat reaching back for the past twenty minutes or so, suggesting that nothing had been coming through. Perplexed, Darcy turned to look at the door and, thankfully, saw that no one seemed to have paid her any notice. She suddenly became aware of her fingers in herself and she drew them out and then scrambled to pull her clothes back up and onto herself appropriately. She was suddenly hot, sweltering really, and she spent the next moments stripping off her jacket, scarf, hat, and mittens, finally freeing her form from her bulky cold-weather clothing and helping herself come down from her horniness.

When she finally felt well-enough put together she exited the room, hoping it didn't reek of sex and give away what she had just done. She blushed thinking about it and then went to the command center, trying to act as casual as possible. As she entered the round room she turned to the left and looked at her workstation and saw that, while the TV was on, it was blank.

"Did, uh, anyone see that?" she asked the room.

Wyatt looked up from where he was working on something. "See what?"

"On the TV?" she prompted.

He shrugged and looked at her expectantly. "It's been off for half an hour or so, I think."

"Oh."

"Did you see something?"

She paused. "No. No, I didn't." The soldier looked back to his own work. If there was no record of it on the hard drives, no CMBR, no signal, and nothing had come through on the TV, then...had it even really happened? And if it didn't, what had driven her to masturbate so suddenly in the office?

What on earth was going on?