𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙄 𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙈𝙮 𝙀𝙮𝙚𝙨 || ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʳᵒᵍᵉʳˢ

Chapter 1⏤The Orphanage

t h e o r p h a n a g e

It was certainly an odd time to be alive.

But by then, "odd" had seamlessly blended into the fabric of everyday life for Carter. Aliens had made their presence known, staging dramatic entrances and exits from the world stage on several occasions. The concept of superpowers and superheroes had transitioned from fiction to reality. Carter, for one, had never been particularly enamored with the superhero craze. True, they stepped in when threats loomed, doing their best to protect and serve. Yet, once the immediate danger had passed, they seemed to forget the turmoil they had caused, leaving behind a trail of destruction. Tony Stark, the billionaire with a penchant for excess and a surprising knack for heroism, attempted to make amends by compensating those affected, but money was a poor salve for deeper wounds.

These so-called champions began to lose their luster for Carter. It became evident over time. While their intentions might have been pure, the chaos they combated often seemed a direct result of their very existence. The alien invasions were a case in point. The media had a field day with each incident, spinning tales that always circled back to Thor—the extraterrestrial deity among them—and his nefarious brother. The motivations for these incursions varied depending on the source; a family feud of cosmic proportions, a quest for dominance, or simply a scheme to provoke Thor. Regardless, the speculation was endless.

But, had Thor not been a part of their world, his brother might have never turned his sights on Earth.

All that seemed like ancient history to Carter now. Sometimes it felt as though it had just happened yesterday, the scars remaining as a constant reminder that Stark's financial gestures were little more than a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. Every day served as a reminder of what she had lost. Money and patience both had their limits. She had faced moments of pleading with her landlord for just a bit more time, confronting his impatience and charmless demeanor head-on.

So, Carter found herself drifting from couch to couch, becoming more acquainted with the streets than she ever imagined possible. As a child, she had envisioned a world filled with magic and towering castles, not a life of dodging thieves and sleeping on park benches that reeked of urine.

Yet, making a home on the streets wasn't as dire as one might assume for her. The weather had been kind, and the thief who used to pilfer her belongings had mysteriously disappeared – not that she was complaining. The city was a maze of construction sites, offering an abundance of deserted buildings as makeshift shelters. There was one building, in particular, that felt different to Carter. It was where she had grown up. Sure, it might sound sentimental, but sleeping in the ruins of her childhood home gave her a sense of connection, even if it was just to four walls stripped of windows and doors. After all, who needed doors when so many other barriers had already been broken down?

Every time Carter stepped into the shell of the unfinished apartment building, waves of memories crashed over her. On good days, this nostalgia was a welcome visitor. But on the harsh ones, when life seemed particularly cruel, it wasn't uncommon for her to cry herself to sleep amidst the echoes of her past. Life had thrown its fair share of curveballs at Carter, yet somehow, she had learned to dodge or catch them. Her unique solace was found in the embrace of darkness. Roaming the streets of New York at night, she found a peace that eluded her during the daylight hours. Many found her preference for darkness over light peculiar, a sentiment Carter couldn't entirely dismiss. Even as a child, the sunlight never appealed to her the way the moon did. Her parents humorously dubbed her "The Vam-pie" for her nocturnal sweet tooth escapades.