Darcy Lewis was NOT a fraidy cat. Horror movies cracked her up. She loved haunted houses, laughing her ass off at lame attempts to frighten her. Even well-designed horrors only impressed her with their craftsmanship. She reviewed the houses she visited, both lame (the majority) and good ones. She earned a reputation for it after she'd visited her hundredth and posted them on her blog, HorrorHouseHeckler. In the biz, she was the haunted house reviewing equivalent of YouTube's Honest Trailers.

She admired the artistry and engineering of a well-crafted bit, like one she saw in London, where the actors and set designers pulled off a credible Bloody Mary scene. In it, each visitor went to a darkened stone room alone, called out that name to a candle-lit mirror, and turned three times. After the third turn, the mirror seemed to dissolve and disgorge one royally-pissed-off Mary Tudor who was ready to take her kingdom back one victim at a time... starting (rather ungratefully, in Darcy's opinion) with the poor fool who summoned her. People fainted during that scene on a daily basis. Darcy laughed so hard that she about peed. She recognized the lighting and machinery used, and applauded the awesome effects. It pissed the actor and house owners off. But, they pulled her aside afterwards to consult on what clued her in and made it so funny to her. It wasn't the first or last time things had gone that way. She had an eye for the tricks behind illusions. She had thousands of blog followers, a number that inevitably surged each October. Her site had scads of rebuttals from house creators, and many notes thanking her for pointing out ways to improve. It was fun stuff, a cool hobby.

So, as her first week in New York fell in October, Darcy rubbed her hands together in anticipation while approaching a new haunted house. "The World's Most Terrifying House of Horror" was set up in a glamorous, older City mansion. Props to them for finding a great location and getting it for their use! It was gloomy enough, and the age of the place added atmosphere. They had a web site filled with breathless testimonials and dire health warnings. It looked like they had help from some serious theater techs, and professional engineers and marketers, so it ought to be a fun haunt. As she got closer and heard ambient noise and spooky sound effects, she was more impressed. Someone had spent a LOT of money on this set up.

The ticket seller's thick brows shot up. "Just one? You're entering alone?"

Darcy grinned and nodded. "Bring it on!"

The lady shook her head and launched into her spiel, droning. "Check the boxes, and sign the release forms, please. If you have high blood pressure, there's a chance you're pregnant, or you're a Chitauri battle survivor, you're advised not to enter. Recent events have inspired some of the horrors you are about to experience. You're not allowed to sue us for your nightmares, counseling needs… or hospital expenses, should you faint and get hurt falling to the ground. Okay?"

Darcy signed the StarkPad with a flourish, and snickered. "I'll try to resist the temptation." She gave the lady a thumbs-up. "Try to sound a little less like you're asking if people want fries with that. Ya know?"

The ticket seller shrugged wearily. "I wanted the night off. More people quit, because it's so scary in there. So, I got called in…" She turned her attention to the next customer, a patiently-waiting, handsome man. Darcy entered, grinning with delight at the Gothic beauty of the house. The lighting, the mist, the projected images, the animatronic beasts and ghouls… It was awesome.

The first several scenes and halls were extraordinarily well done and realistic. Darcy admired the artistry of the character makeup, which looked awful and gory. One lady and kid who'd entered ahead of her turned and ran back to the entrance, banged on it, and begged to be let out. Instead of suits of haunted armor, the halls had faux Chitauri guards. They were seriously-scary looking, and made an awful noise that made the hair on the back of Darcy's neck stand up. She nodded as she stared at one who was trying to menace her. "THAT is otherworldly. How'd you guys learn to make that noise? It sounds just right! I mean, I only heard it on a video feed from a lab in Norway, way far away from the bad guys and their ability to lay a paw or laser blast on my brilliant boss. But, that sounds like what I heard! Did someone actually keep their head enough to drag a Field Recorder to the battle scene and run the real noise through an ace Audio Interface? Pricey, but so worth it!"

She heard the man entering the hall chuckle at her assessment, and at the way the 'Chitauri' stepped back as though intimidated by HER. She shrugged and winked at the man, always happy to discover a fellow human with a sense of humor. He was gorgeous and built, to top that off, and she liked the admiring glance he gave her. But, seeing the Chitauri guy looking irritated, Darcy apologized. "Sorry. I'm just a fan of the process. You're VERY scary. Good job!" She patted his arm comfortingly and moved on.

The horror classics were well represented. The devil's lair reeked of sulfur, and left her sweating. Vampires that did NOT sparkle actually fed on victims, some victims whimpering and others moaning erotically (in homage to the sensuous overtones in Gothic vampire tales, like Stoker's). Werewolves burst forth into wild furry form, and howled hungrily, snarling as though ready to rip her throat out. She couldn't resist applauding their zeal. Projected and holographic ghosts danced through the cold air around her in a faded ballroom. A few rooms later, there was a guy with electric whips and a knock-off arc reactor acting insane. THAT was weird, an unfamiliar reference for Darcy. Frankenstein's monster was huge and gross looking, a rather fantastic stitched representation. The next room had people on fire, one at the far side of the room seeming to explode… from rage? It was bizarre, and made the whole thing stranger. The effects were amazing and impressive. It was one of the best horror shows she'd ever seen. She shook her head more and more, wondering how anyone could possibly afford to spend so much on effects, costumes, computers, makeup, the location… all the details that made this place unique.

Still, nothing could have prepared her for the next room. Mechanical monsters tortured human victims in every way any SAW movie had ever tried, their lack of empathy somehow making it even more disturbing. She noticed the handsome guy she'd seen earlier enter, his posture defensive as he assessed every metal creation around them. He looked angry and suspicious.

The post-apocalyptic hunting and killing machines from The Terminator hacked a shrieking, animatronic man to pieces. They also kicked his guard dog. The animatronic dog's whimpers caused Darcy to scowl. Every moron knew… you don't hurt the dog! That ruins a show faster than anything. She knew it was fake, but it hit a nerve. She had a soft spot for animals, her thoughts turning to sweet little Baker from the Puente Antiguo pet shop… which should have prepared her for what she saw next, but didn't.

Further back in the room, stood The Destroyer, Loki's murderous Asgardian enforcer. It shot flame into a locked cage while human screams cut through thick, billowing smoke. Darcy froze, shocked, as her thoughts raced with panic. She was in New York, not Puente Antiguo. Thor was NOT about to die. Her life wasn't in danger. But, she hadn't forgotten that day. She never would. She stood stock still, staring at The Destroyer and seeing flashes of her own nightmares play in her head.

The handsome man came close. "Miss? Are you okay? I didn't think that anything could scare you, but..."

She grabbed his hand without thinking, hanging on as if to avoid being sucked into a portal. "I was there. That thing... killed my friend. His magic hammer brought him back, but, that killed him for a long minute. They warn you about the Chitauri, but I guess they don't realize some of us were in New Mexico watching the gods try to kill each other." She guessed the handsome guy would jerk away from her apparent bout of insanity, laugh at her, and run. She shook her head. "I don't get scared in haunted houses, but, this is… Oh! I might be holding your hand. Am I holding your hand? I just… Sorry. I'm sorry that I'm holding your hand."

He surprised her when he nodded as though her words made sense. "It's okay. You mean Thor. I didn't know that thing killed him."

She stared up at the stranger, shocked. "How do you know what I mean?"

He smiled the most reassuring smile she'd ever seen. The sight of it made her feel safer than she'd ever felt before. "We haven't met yet, but, I noticed you across the Cafeteria the day you and Dr. Foster arrived. I'm Steve Rogers. When Thor described this thing to Tony's people, he talked about you being there and bravely helping get people to safety, but not what it did to him. You're Darcy Lewis, his lightning sister. I asked him to tell me more about you…" He dropped his gaze shyly.

The Destroyer fired again. Darcy let out a strangled cry and curled into Steve Rogers' supremely muscular chest. His free arm cuddled her close. Her hind brain let out a sort of internal 'oooh' of pleasure. He smelled great, held her perfectly (making calming, tingly circles on her hand and speaking comfort), and felt wonderful against her. Steve calmly led her to the next scene, a gloomy graveyard filled with animatronic bats, demons, spiders, rats, and some too-familiar Dark Elves. Darcy cussed. "Damn! The web site doesn't say that this is a Stark-funded, Avenger nightmare-reenactment Hell. I almost got killed by those guys, too." Again, Steve led her through the scene, eyeing the Dark Elves with interest, but no fear.

He stopped walking, however, when they entered a mad scientist's lab where a guy with a Red Skull shot people and laughed maniacally. Darcy's heart rate returned to normal finally. She noticed that Steve wasn't letting go of her hand, but tightened his grip instead. "You okay, Steve?" He didn't look afraid, more ready to kick ass than afraid, but...

He nodded and pointed. "That's a good likeness."

She looked at the Red Skull. "That's Captain America's nemesis from the old days, isn't it?" Steve nodded. Darcy began to point out faults in the makeup and the machinery, hoping to help him intellectually see the scene for what it was. Then, she stopped and blurted. "Holy cow! You're Captain America!" Steve looked down at her and nodded. Her mouth twisted to a pout. "I don't know if I can drag you through this, like you pulled me away from my personal Hell. You're really big. That's only a bad thing if you need me to drag you. Otherwise, it's more of an interesting, sexy thing."

Steve let out a surprised chuckle. "Thanks. I'm okay. He's long dead, and I don't scare easy. The only problem I'll have here will be if Stark disregarded my repeated warnings and included a 'bad guy' with a metal arm among the monsters. That's why I was on alert in the robots room. If I see a 'villain' with a metal arm, I'm tearing the whole damned house down." His jaw tightened, and the chilling look in his eye caused Darcy's heart to beat faster.

Trying to keep from panting at how sexy she found (dangerous-looking) Steve, Darcy tilted her head. "Metal arm? I don't know that monster."

Steve stood even straighter, which didn't seem possible. "He's NOT a monster. He's my friend… who was brain-washed, and forced to do bad things. I'm trying to find and help him. He's…"

Darcy nodded. "Oh. Okay! If the mad scientist lab mis-represented Jane, I'd burn it down. I get it. I haven't noticed anyone or anything like that. But, if I do, I'll give you the heads up and even point out power grids, projectors, etc. that'll help you tear things up more effectively." The look of friendly gratitude he gave her about melted Darcy. She squeezed his hand and savored his approval.

The next room was a supremely creepy ballet studio that seemed to also be a murder school. The girls and boys in leotards were zombies. The action was superbly horrifying, beautifully choreographed. A perverted string rendition of 'Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, It's Off to Work We Go' played as a sinister undercurrent. Darcy's smile returned. "This is unbelievable. Stark funded it all? He spent enough for me to live on for the rest of my life!"

As they watched the frightening little children torture and murder, Steve squeezed Darcy's hand. "I guess I'm okay now, if you want to let go." Pink showed at the tips of his ears.

Darcy grinned. "Are you kidding? Why would I want to do that? You're stunning, and have a sense of humor. I haven't had any hand-holding in months. And, I spend all my time around a god who doesn't understand how to tone down PDA's with his adoring lady in front of me. It gets lonely. Unless… Am I infringing on someone else's hand-holding rights? Are you seeing someone? Do you want me to let go?"

Steve shook his head as they entered a room with classic horror movie scenes. The REDRUM twins from The Shining moved towards them. A realistic, holographic Samara (from The Ring) climbed out of a television that leaked cold water. An animatronic possessed girl from The Exorcist threw up pea soup and twirled her head. Michael Myers stabbed a nearly-naked, apparently promiscuous, teenage girl. Friday 13th's Jason Voorhees held a struggling animatronic young man off the ground, strangling him.

Steve admitted. "I haven't held hands with anyone in longer than you can imagine. And… I like it, almost as much as I like you." He grinned in a way that told Darcy he was interested in more than hand holding. She returned the look, then deliberately eyed his lips. His smile widened.

Darcy broke the moment and pointed the way. "Lead on, Captain. That closet ahead is about to pop open and let a dead body swing out, so, watch your step." They laughed and chatted their way through the rest of the exhibit, holding hands the entire way. When they exited to the street, Darcy sighed, dreading letting him go. "Top notch horror. They should get rid of the part where robots hurt the dog, but everything else was money well spent."

Steve nodded. "I'll pass that on. I'm just glad that I didn't find what I worried about." He fell silent and took a deep breath, fidgeting. She could feel a shiver pass through him.

Darcy glanced up at Steve. He looked more anxious than he had through the entire haunted house. She raised her brows. "You okay? The scary stuff was inside. You're safe out here…"

He nodded, swallowing hard. He rushed his words, obviously terrified. "There's a good Italian place near here. Want to have dinner together?"

Darcy swung their joined hands. "Of course I do! Did you really ask Thor more about me?" He nodded, an eager expression on his face. Her face lit up with pleasure. "Why?"

Steve stumbled over his words. "Y… Your smile is lively. And… you're so… pretty…"

Darcy squealed, and gave a fist pump with her free hand. "Yes! You're pretty, too, so, that makes this a date." He laughed. She kissed his cheek. He steadied her as stepped back. "You can help me review Stark's House of Horror, too, for my blog. A guest review quote from Captain America would probably gain me several thousand more followers."

He looked pleased. "Anytime, ma'am. I'm sure that Tony's going to insist that you go verify that all the other Haunted Houses in the City are inferior. I'd be glad to come along…"

She laughed. "Cheese-tastic haunts are even more fun, in their sad little way. Are you a horror fan?"

Steve shook his head. "Nope. Just hoping you might hold my hand again…"

Darcy nudged his shoulder as they walked towards the restaurant. "I just might."

End.