"You're telling me that you got Captain America-the War Hero, Steve Rogers-to become best friends with a thirteen-year-old kid? What, is this supposed to slowly introduce him to how irritating Generation Z is? Project Training Wheels or something?"
...
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𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 grew up in a household of war stories and superheroes. Most of those superheroes, at least in Lizzie's eyes, had the last name as her. That was expected when an entire side of your family dedicated themselves to service and honor—the infamous Carter legacy. A common surname that became a building block for one family that knew the weight it held. The founding Carters, although dating back for a very long time, really began with the three siblings: Margaret, Michael, and Nicholas. Lizzie only ever had the chance to know one, losing her grandfather and great uncle in two very different wars before her time. It just so happened that Margaret Elizabeth Carter was the very same woman that Lizzie got her name from. Well, half of it. She still wasn't entirely sure where the middle name came from, but she was sure her father—Mike Carter—had a reason for giving her a weird middle name like Jay (yes, her family had a thing for recycling names).
Lizzie just never guessed that she would be the next Carter to dedicate themselves to a life of service and honor, and definitely not two days after her thirteenth birthday. She stared out the window of the medium-sized apartment, realizing that her usually-crappy view of New York City's side alleyway had been replaced with a beautiful view of D.C.'s town circle. The sidewalk was bustling with different people rushing to get a start to their morning. If she looked up, she could see the grey clouds starting to part and make way for the sun to come out. It was beautiful, and early Fall had always been her favorite time of year. It made her want to go outside right then so that she could find a nice green area to sit and read a book. She hated it.
"I miss home."
"You can always go home. I can get it all sorted out in a matter of hours."
Sharon Carter stood in the small kitchen area, busying herself by putting all of the random utensils and kitchenette in their rightful place. She barely glanced over at her younger sister as she spoke, the two finding a new routine of their lives together. The loud clanging of glass reminded them that none of the stuff was actually theirs, but supplied to them. It was hard enough that they were both shipped so far away from their home, and now they had to make a pretend life with pretend things in a pretend apartment. Still, the idea of going back home was enough to made Lizzie's blood run cold.
