In the time between Loki not answering his phone and, well, now, Darcy was operating on a mix between guilt, panic, anger, and fear. Guilt because she's not calling in S.H.I.E.L.D., not calling in the Avengers who have practice with this kind of thing to save her own skin. Panic because she knows her father and knows that nothing good can come of whatever he's doing and she's only got a small window of time. Anger - how dare he attack her friends when she knows about it and yet of course he would, he's a supervillain, it's what they do. Fear... fear that she won't get there in time.

Not that Steve actually told her where she'd be, but she takes to the streets all the same, calling a number it tells her is unavailable. Shit. Shit. And oh, she said that last one out loud. Fine, she can do this. Hacking a Stark phone while jogging through New York City? Yeah, she's got this.

Five minutes later and the last known location of Captain America is shown on GPS and Darcy fistpumps, screw the crowd. She's good. Except that good means she'd actually be there instead of three blocks down and two over. No time like the present, so she kicks her jogging into gear fuck yeah agent training in running.

Just in time too, and her eyes widen as Loki lunges forward - fuck, fuck, fuck - and Darcy throws herself towards Steve, hoping to at least have enough momentum to get him out of the line of fire.