𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙄 𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙈𝙮 𝙀𝙮𝙚𝙨 || ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʳᵒᵍᵉʳˢ

Chapter 4⏤The Fog

t h e f o g

Carter sat there, contemplating her next steps. Grace had work to do, but that didn't matter to Carter; she had nowhere else to go. The realization slowly dawned on her that she would need to find a new place to stay. Often enough, she had been sitting in the back of a police car, listening to officers communicate through the two-way radio about how they were going to catch the criminal they were looking for. They kept saying they should go back to places the criminal had been seen before, familiar places, mostly consisting of where they lived and where they spent most of their time.

And for Carter, it was the apartment building. The guy who had called the police had seen her. There was no way she was going back there. By the time she would get there, they would be waiting for her.

The word "criminal" echoed in her mind. Was she really a true criminal now? She had killed. But she wasn't able to control it. It really wasn't intentional. She was trying to protect herself, trying to learn about her new powers and get some experience, which she needed to reach her end goal.

She started wondering what she needed to do before she could even think about challenging the Avengers. Clearly, she needed some training in controlling the new powers inside her. Somehow, she thought of herself as strange because who would really embrace something like that? She didn't even question it that much, really. Her first thought that had crossed her mind when she understood what was happening to her was that she wasn't weak anymore. Did that make her a bad person? Immediately thinking about the chance to get revenge instead of what else she could do now. Sure, her powers weren't the most advanced or the brightest, but there was surely some good she could do with them.

Yeah, superhero wasn't high on her list of most wanted jobs. After all, she hated superheroes and had it out for the ones jumping around in New York, doing what they wanted to do without a care in the world. Also, how in the hell should she be a superhero when she had just made herself a murderer—

"Hey," Grace smiled, sliding behind the counter again, "Can I get you anything else? Maybe some food? Our cinnamon rolls are fantastic, if I may say so myself."

Carter cleared her throat. Why in the holy hells did she keep acting so freaking weird. She definitely needed more human contact. "To be honest... I can't really pay for it."

"Don't worry."

"You really can't keep paying for me."

"I don't have to pay for the stuff here," Grace answered quickly, lowering her voice slightly, "The manager thinks I like-like him so he pays for everything I eat or give away during my shift."

"Oh."

"Yup," Grace grinned, nodding in the direction of the cinnamon rolls, "Want one?"

"Uh, yeah, okay yeah, sure."

"Coming right up!" She cheered, smiling happily as if she just won the lottery. When she came back, she held two plates, and her apron was gone. Instead of staying behind the counter, she took a seat on the barstool beside Carter, placing one plate in front of her and one in front of herself. "You have no idea how much I love these." Before Carter could respond, Grace grabbed her cinnamon roll and took a big bite, moaning at the taste, while some of the crumbs fell from the corners of her mouth. "You know, Betty, she works in the kitchen in the morning, keeps refusing to give me the recipe, and no matter how often I try, mine just won't taste this good." A giggle escaped her. "I also keep burning them, so..."