Who you gonna call?
Darcy stared at her phone. She still couldn’t get through to SHIELD. Last time she’d tried calling, after the Battle of Manhattan, the phone had rang and rang, but no one hand answered. This time, she got a disconnected signal.
It was... disconcerting.
SHIELD were supposed to be monitoring this sort of thing, weren’t they? Didn’t they have some team somewhere whose job it was to go around solving weird shit? Because gravity disturbances rated pretty high on the weird shit-o-meter. And Darcy was way out of her depth here.
“Come on,” she said. “Pick up.”
“Here’s your iPod back.” Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD, handed her the mp3 player. She was sitting on the ground and he was standing over her. She had to squint against the harsh New Mexico sun to see him clearly.
“Thanks. Not that I’m forgiving you for taking it in the first place.” She snatched it and scrolled through her playlists, making sure everything was in order.
“Here.” He was holding out a card to her, and she frowned, shading her eyes with her hand so she could see him better.
“What’s that?”
“It’s my card.” He didn’t move the hand holding it out until she reached out and took it. “That’s my personal number. If you come into contact with anything strange, or if something happens, you call me. If Thor or his brother come back, get in touch.”
“Why are you giving me your personal number?” Coulson smiled blandly, put his sunglasses back on and walked away. “Hey!” Darcy shouted. He didn’t turn around. “Thank you!”
When he still didn’t turn around or respond, Darcy shrugged and put the card in her pocket. She was sure it would come in handy at some point. Thor was bound to come back for Jane and where that hunk of man flesh went, trouble followed. At least now she had a number to call when the weird shit hit the fan.