No Vacancy

After the dust had settled from the battle with Legolos’ waaaaaaay uglier cousin, and all fingers and toes (and pants) had been accounted for, Jane had seen Thor off with a kiss and a pat on the ass to go do whatever godly space princes did when they weren’t saving their astrophysicist girlfriends from Santa’s angstiest little helpers.

Then she’d promptly informed her merry band of misfits that they were going to Africa. Because;

Erik had predictably not cared, and in fact seemed to be looking forward to the change in scenery (the climate there was much more conducive to pants-less brainstorming), and the whole lack of evil anything bent on using his mad brain skillz for the dark side was like, a major bonus. Ian, lost little science lamb that he was would go where Darcy told him to because Queen D ruled with a righteously manicured fist and he was kind of terrified of her. Jane hadn’t even asked Darcy if she’d made other plans because like, duh. (Still, slightly insulting. She could have at least pretended like Darcy had any sort of life outside of managing Jane’s science shenanigans) So Jane had picked up her kingdom, said deuces to London and the northern hemisphere (but not the Stark funding. They said heart felt thank-yous to that) and relocated to the southern wilds of the Democratic Republic of Congo. Genocidal maniacs beat homicidal Keebler Elves any day. Well, at least five out of seven, so still good.

For the eight months that they were there, they’d spent endless weeks beating their way through the miserably humid bush; following star charts, guides with the brokenest of broken English, the whispers of old tribe stories and the rare jump of the needle on Janes duct tape and double mint held together scanner. By the time they moved on to Tanzania Erik had almost been stoned to death for being a witch –“seriously, still a thing here?”–, Jane had almost traded Ian for a pair of double AA batteries of questionable newness –“No Jane! He’s the only one who can climb the banana trees!”– and Darcy had been almost married –“twice, Darcy, twice!”– due to the language barrier. Apparently curves were, like, a thing down there, so she would have like, totally thought about it except there wasn’t even one Starbucks in the whole country and Wifi was nonexistent so it just wasn’t worth it. Plus, like, Ebola.

But it wasn’t all bad. No alien invasions took place, nobody got possessed by weird red misty stuff, nobody cared about a weird white dude with no pants on in the jungle, the African climate agreed with Darcy’s hair, they all had bitchin’ tans, and Thor visited for (Jane judged by the stars) Valentine’s Day, having Heimdall drop him right in the middle of their camp in a convenient jungle clearing Ian had found while up a banana tree. (not that he’d needed Heimdall to find them, all he’d really had to do was follow the trail of  Off cans they’d left across the country. Africa mosquitoes were the size of cats)

It was a flip of a franc that decided they’d take a rickety bush plane –“is that ducttape?!”– instead of the bus, and sheer luck that in the tiny office of the tiny bush airport they were waiting in, that there’d be a tiny TV with satellite. They watched along in silence with the threadbare ground crew as three massive flying ships crashed into the Potomac. –“Hydra? Like for realsies? No freaking way”–.   

Tanzania turned out to be a bust so they hi-ho’d off to Kenya –“I swear to GOD Darcy, if you sing the Circle of Life one. More. Time.”– and, once again, found themselves watching a battle in the sky from the safety of their eco-hotel. Only this time a whole damn city was floating in the air, and instead of long thought dead Evil Organizations, it was crazy sentient robots and Thor was involved. It was like watching the battle of New York all over again only slightly less terrifying because nothing beat flying space slugs from the fifth dimension of hell. Nothing. Jane was tense next to Darcy on the couch. Sitting on the edge of her cushion, she gnawed on the thumbnail of one hand while holding Darcy’s hand in a death grip with the other. Every time she’d catch a glimpse of red cape and blond hair she’d flinch. Darcy externally held it together for Janey’s sake while inside she lost her shit. From his spot on the floor with spindly arms around his knees Ian seemed to have stopped breathing; eyes blown wide and mouth slightly gaping like a beached fish. Even Erik was paying attention as he relaxed in one of the sturdy armchairs, mind totally present for once.

After it ended the news kept up a steady stream of recapped images from the battle and first reports from the ground as they all tried to relax. Jane paced back and forth across the plank wood floor while ranting and flailing her hands about. Erik sat in his same chair muttering equations to himself and Darcy and Ian tried to pretend like everything was ok by playing go fish with the incomplete deck of cards that was in the hut. When the tell-tale sounds of Thor’s arrival finally rumbled through the room Jane bolted out the door, flinging it open to smack against the wall and Darcy sighed as she felt the tension bleed from her shoulders.

Robots, shmo-bots.

After Kenya they once again took their lives into their own hands and traveled by bush plane to the hinky-est air strip Darcy’d ever seen in BFN northern Sudan. Once landed she managed to procure the five camels they needed for their journey through trade. It had only cost them Jane’s hairbrush –“shut up, like you even use it”– three pairs of Erik's pants –“jokes on you”– and Ian’s mp3 player –“dude, it’s a Zune. Who even pretends to have had one of those?”–

Darcy is officially the God of haggling.  

They follow the Nile like a pack of Bedouin travelers, wrapped in dark fabrics to hide from the sun. It’s the middle of summer, and, to quote Jane, it feels like vacationing in Satan’s ass crack. It’s hotter than hot, like, New Mexico felt like wintering in Aspen in comparison hot. Like so hot Darcy is scared to turn on her iPod hot. Because the last time she tried it, it self-shut-downed on her hot. Like they’re all starting to see the shit Eric sees hot.

So.

Fricking.

Hot.

But the nights? The nights are beyond words. Stars upon stars upon stars just glittering endlessly on above them. And as she lays on the still warm sand with Jane next to her pointing out constellations and telling the stories her dad had once told her, Darcy can understand why ancient people made them into gods. Instead of finding it terrifying like the majority of the human population just finding out that fantastical beings and that places like Asgard really existed, she finds it comforting knowing that they’re not all alone floating out there in all that vast awesomeness.

Other than some cool hieroglyphics of epic Ancient Alien levels –“dude, joking-not-joking, that totally looks like Loki. Erik, back me up buddy”– they find absolutely nothing.

They blame Jane.

The camels blame Jane.

Jane even blames Jane.

So they say good bye to the camels –“Ian, stop crying. I’m sure HRH Christoff VonCamelbottom will be very happy with the nice bandits” – , –“Seriously Janey, we need to work on your people skills”– dig  out the Stark charge card Darcy doesn’t want to even  know where Jane had hidden, and back track to Ethiopia in style.

Their first exploratory readings are so promising that they’re almost ready to forgive Jane for the whole crossing the desert thing. When the guides they hire lead them to some nothing special cave near where all of humanity is supposed to have sprung forth and the readings are off the charts, even the trading Ian for batteries incident is forgotten.  

Later on, when Darcy and Jane reminisce about how awesome the Sudan desert was, and where it all went wrong, they’ll decide on Ethiopia. Specifically the cave. If they had one do-over it would definitely be the moment that they, along with their two moron amigo’s and one oddly skittish guide, made their way into the dank, narrow cavern of doom all in the name of Science!™.

They never stood a chance.