The Soldier and His Girl. (Steve Rogers Love Story)

Welcome to Westview:

Darcey Lewis POV:

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I leaned back in my chair, the glow of the monitors reflecting off my tired eyes. It was a typical day at S.W.O.R.D. headquarters, but today felt different. My hands trembled slightly as I sipped my lukewarm coffee, the bitterness lingering on my tongue. I was supposed to be just another analyst, running the numbers, and watching for anomalies. But what unfolded on the screens before me was far from ordinary.

As I flipped through the channels of footage, one screen flickered to life, capturing my attention like a moth to a flame. There they were: Steve and Emily Rogers, trapped in a world that felt utterly surreal. My heart raced as I leaned closer, confusion swirling in my gut. It couldn't be. The two of them, married with their children, were acting in a sitcom—dressed in the perfect attire of the 1950s, all smiles and laughter, but something about it was deeply unsettling.

The black-and-white world of Westview unfolded in front of me, an idyllic facade. The couple stood in a picture-perfect yard, their children—Sarah and James—playing gleefully in the background. It felt so innocuous, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that they were caught in a meticulously crafted illusion. I had seen enough to know that this was no ordinary sitcom. I had to know what was happening.

"Hey, Darcy, you okay?" a colleague said, breaking the spell that had me entranced. I shook my head, trying to dismiss my rising concern. "I'm fine," I replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Just... keep watching."

The scene shifted again, and Emily and Steve exchanged nervous glances as they prepared for a neighborhood barbecue. Emily was breathtaking, wearing a vibrant cherry-red swing dress that flared out as she moved, reminiscent of a classic 1950s style. The fitted bodice accentuated her figure, while the skirt danced around her knees, exuding an effortless charm. The dress was adorned with white polka dots that added a playful touch, and a delicate white apron was tied around her waist, complete with frilly edges. Her hair was styled in soft waves, with a matching red headband that framed her face, amplifying her radiance. But behind that bright exterior, I could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Beside her, Steve wore a light blue short-sleeve button-up shirt tucked into dark trousers, the fabric slightly wrinkled as if he had just come from a battle. The shirt's color accentuated his striking blue eyes, which held a mixture of confusion and forced cheerfulness. He had rolled up the sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms, but the casual demeanor didn't hide the tension that rippled beneath the surface. A brown belt cinched his waist, and his posture, while relaxed, betrayed the weight of the facade he was trying to maintain.

"Looks like we're having a barbecue tonight!" Steve announced, his voice booming with faux cheerfulness. Yet I could see the strain in his eyes, the underlying tension beneath the surface.

"Sure, that sounds... wonderful!" Emily responded, but her voice wavered, and her eyes flickered with uncertainty. I could sense her desperation to break free from this charade, which shattered me. They were trapped in this nightmare, acting out roles that didn't belong to them. It was like watching two friends trapped in a twisted dream.

As I continued to watch, my heart sank further. The children—Sarah and James—were blissfully unaware, their laughter ringing out like bells, but the dissonance of their parents' predicament loomed heavy in the air. I felt helpless as if I were a spectator in a cruel play, unable to change the script.

Suddenly, the scene shifted, and Wanda Maximoff stepped into the frame, a radiant smile lighting up her face. I leaned closer, my heart pounding in my chest. "Emily! Steve! What a lovely day for a gathering, isn't it?" she said, her voice sugary sweet, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down my spine. It was as if she held all the strings, weaving them into her narrative.

"Yes, Wanda! Just setting things up!" Emily replied, her tone attempting to match Wanda's enthusiasm, but I could see her struggle to keep the facade intact. It was heartbreaking. I could feel Emily's spirit flickering like a candle in the wind, fighting against the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

"Great! Let me help!" Wanda chirped, her hands waving as if she could conjure the decorations from thin air. In a flash, vibrant streamers and balloons appeared, transforming the yard into a bizarre carnival of color. I could see the strain in Emily's expression, a mixture of confusion and fear as she tried to maintain her smile.

"Thanks, Wanda," Steve said, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. His posture was stiff, as if he were trying to break free from invisible shackles. "We're just trying to get everything ready for the barbecue tonight." But I could see it in his eyes—he was fighting against the roles they had been forced to play, against the overwhelming pressure of Wanda's spell.

Wanda's laughter rang out, but it felt hollow, echoing like a taunt. "You two are just the perfect neighbors, you know that? It's so nice to see you both so happy." She beamed at them, but her eyes glinted with a possessiveness that made my skin crawl.

My heart ached for them, for the incredible heroes they were, now reduced to puppets in this distorted reality. I felt an overwhelming urge to reach through the screen and pull them out, to rescue them from this nightmare. It wasn't just the heroes I knew—they were a family, and they deserved so much more than this forced happiness.

"Darcy, I'm on," a voice crackled through the intercom, jolting me from my spiraling thoughts. It was Jimmy Woo, my partner in this investigation. I quickly relayed everything I had seen, my words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "It's Steve and Emily! Trapped in this sitcom world created by Wanda. They're playing these characters, but I can see it in their eyes—they're aware something isn't right. We have to get them out!"

"Got it. I'm on my way," he replied, determination lacing his voice.

I returned my gaze to the screen, feeling a fire ignite within me. I couldn't just sit back and watch as my friends endured this twisted torment. I had to gather the team, rally our resources, and formulate a plan to rescue them.

As I turned my attention back to the screen, I watched with a mixture of hope and dread as Wanda continued to interact with Emily and Steve. Her presence was suffocating, and I felt the weight of their reality pressing down on me. Every laugh, every forced smile, felt like a dagger to my heart. I knew that if we didn't act quickly, they might be lost to this illusion forever.

In that moment, I resolved to do whatever it took to shatter Wanda's spell. Steve and Emily were more than just characters on a screen—they were my friends, my allies. They deserved to be free, to live their lives without the shadow of Wanda's influence looming over them. I would not let them become another casualty of this war.

As I watched, my heart raced with urgency. Emily's laughter rang out, but it felt hollow, and I knew that beneath the cheerful exterior lay a profound sorrow. I felt tears prick at my eyes as I realized how deeply I cared for them, how much I wanted to see them break free from this nightmare.

With renewed resolve, I turned to my colleagues, determination fueling my every word. "We need to save them. We can't let Wanda keep them in this twisted reality. We need a plan."

As I watched the screen, I silently vowed to do everything in my power to shatter the illusion, to bring Steve and Emily back to the world where they belonged. The clock was ticking, and every moment spent watching this cruel show felt like an eternity. Together, we would fight to rescue them from the clutches of Westview and restore the lives they had fought so hard to protect.