Chapter 3

The night was dark. The air was chilly. The streets were empty. Katrina's mind was dull. She didn't know where she was going.

Actually, she did. Sort of.

When the General kicked her out, she left immediately. Why? It was light out. She wasn't dumb. She might've been confined all her life but she still knew what happened at night in these kinds of areas. What kind of people came out. Of course, she could fight off anyone she wanted to, but it was still good to be safe.

Earlier, Katrina had walked for what seemed like hours. At first, she had no idea where she was going. She just walked until she found some sign of civilization. It turned out she'd been walking in some sort of forest preserve area. She located a big…map. One that was stuck to the ground. She assumed it was for people who passed through and wanted to get a scope of the area. After looking at the map, she realized she was going south. Then she realized heading south would lead her to New York City. Surprisingly, the General never had them go to New York City. Katrina had heard of it, and she'd always wanted to go. But no matter how hard she prayed for it to happen, it never did. And it was so close.

It was now just within her grasp.

If she continued going south, it would be hard, but she could make it there. She had already made it to Massachusetts after walking for hours from the border of southern Vermont. It would just take a few more days…

The City That Never Sleeps. She could already see it. She could go there, see people, be with people, meet people. She could start a life. She didn't know how, but she could. Perhaps this whole affair had been a blessing in disguise.

She could learn to be a real person.

She was terrified but she was trying to hold onto the positives of the situation: a life without rules, without regulations, without…any sort of structure at all.

Actually, she wasn't so sure this was a blessing.

But she didn't want to think about any of this at the moment; she had a feeling she might start to legitimately have a panic attack if she kept pondering her future. So she grabbed a map from the little holder and started on her journey.

She was currently in the middle of Connecticut. The map she'd gotten was in central Massachusetts as well, and it told her she had walked about fifty miles. A normal person probably wasn't capable of walking fifty plus miles without any food or water, but Katrina was trained for this kind of thing. Actually, a few years ago, while she was still in training, she was thrown out for two days without any food or water, all while being watched, to improve her survival skills. She had done well, but a few other comrades had been on the verge of death.

She couldn't tell the time, but obviously it was night. Katrina shivered slightly when she felt a wisp of cold air. She was only wearing a thin, long sleeved black shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted black jeans. These were the clothes she'd put on when she left the hospital wing. If she knew what was to come, she would've dressed better.

She was standing next to a long vacant street, trying to read her map, with only the help of a few dull street lights. She squinted and stood under one of the lights, trying to figure out where exactly she is. Just then, the map started getting brighter. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a growing light coming from the street. She looked up just as a car stopped next to her. Her grip on her map tightened slightly.

The window of the front seat rolled down, and a man grinned at her from inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, Katrina guessed. She eyed his raggedy clothes and unshaven face. "What's a sweetheart like you doin' all alone in the middle of nowhere?" The man grinned even harder.

Katrina's stomach flipped slightly. She didn't like the look of this man at all. Her defense reflexes perked up suddenly, and she resisted the urge to hit him. "I'm just going somewhere." She lifted up her map slightly, gesturing towards it.

He smirked. "All alone? Without a car?"

Katrina's eyes flitted down to the car. Good idea.

"Where you going?" the man asked intrusively.

Katrina considered telling him. What was the harm? Then, "New York City." She eyed his steering wheel.

The man laughed out loud. "Like this? You'd never make it, honey. A little thing like you would probably get picked up by some strangers and never see the light of day again."

Like you?

Either he was completely oblivious or extremely smart.

Katrina gritted her teeth. Little thing? Katrina so badly wanted to show him what this 'little thing' could do to him.

"How's about I give you a ride?" he asked slimily. He slung his arm out the window, making Katrina step back just a little bit.

Oh, you definitely can give me a ride.

Katrina considered knocking him out and stealing his car. Then she could get to the city without a problem. And she was about to, she was so close, until her conscious spoke to her.

Don't. He'll get killed if you leave him here.

Most of Katrina didn't care, but it was that one part in her heart that was holding her back. She looked back at the man. He started at her expectedly, waiting for an answer. Finally, though gritted teeth, she forced herself to say, "That would be great."

The man grinned grossly again. "Hop on in."

Slowly, Katrina made it around his car, and right before she was about to enter, and quickly grabbed a sharp branch she spotted on the ground. She sat in his car, concealing the branch by putting it under her thigh, and was immediately hit with one of the most repugnant smells she'd ever smelled in her life. She tried to ignore it the best she could.

The man started the car, and Katrina continued to feel uneasy. "So, what's your name, darling?" he asked.

Katrina clenched her fist. She'd known him for about five minutes, and she was already sick of him calling her names. She tried calming herself mentally, and said, "Katrina."

The man chuckled. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

Katrina didn't respond.

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and said, "My name's John." He stayed silent for a moment, perhaps waiting for some sort of answer.

"Okay."

John stiffened. "So," he continued. Katrina groaned inwardly. "Where you from?"

"Vermont."

"Got any family?"

Katrina looked down. "No."

"Oh?" For some reason, he seemed genuinely pleased. "Got a partner?"

"No."

"Oh?" he chuckled. Katrina's hand moved slightly towards her stick. She suddenly knew getting in the car with him had been a terrible mistake.

He seemed like he was about to say something else, but Katrina decided she was done with his inquiries. "Stop talking." The statement was quick and to the point. His head whipped towards her but she didn't understand why. All she did was tell him to stop talking.

They drove on for about ten minutes until he pulled into a gas station. "Need gas," he muttered. But he didn't pull up to one of the gas deposits. He drove around the little convenient store and parked behind it, where no one could see them. Instantly, Katrina's defense mode kicked in.

He unbuckled his seat belt quickly and stared at her for a few seconds, before reaching for her. Katrina tried unbuckling her seat belt as fast as she could but before she knew it, he was all over her. She growled. He grabbed her arm, and she swatted it away.

Do not kill him.

"Stop fighting me," he muttered throatily. He grabbed her waist and hip, and tried to climb on top of her. Katrina let out an angered cry and pushed him off aggressively.

Do not kill him.

He then grabbed her head and tried to pin her other wrists with his other hand. He tried pulling her head closer, but in a second, her arm was free of his grip and swinging at his face.

Do not kill him.

"You little—!" His hand swung at her face, striking it. Then there was dead silence, him angered, her shocked. Her shock quickly bubbled into rage. Her head slowly turned towards him, death in her eyes. The flicker of fear in his own was hard to miss.

That's it.

Katrina grabbed his face and slammed it against the window. Then she slammed it again and punched his cheek with her other hand. Blood smeared on the widow. He let out a cry, a scream of agony, but Katrina wasn't filled with mercy. She never was. She let go of his face, and he tried swinging at her, but she caught his hand, and twisted it in an unusual angle, resulting in a scream of pain from him. She grabbed the back of his shirt, slammed him against the steering wheel, and stabbed his back with the branch. His scream pierced the car, and she knew it would be heard from outside.

"Shut up." Her voice was low, aggressive, threatening. Then, with a swift snap of the neck, he was gone.

Katrina had no regrets. He tried to hurt her. Take advantage of her. He was a bad person. So she killed him. And maybe that was good, too. If he hadn't come across her he would've tried to hurt other people.

Katrina threw his body on the ground. She cleaned the blood on the window as best as she could using his shirt. Then she was off.

It was daytime by the time Katrina arrived at New York. She arrived at the extreme southern part of New York, so she was close to the city. She didn't use a map to get to the city, she only followed the signs on the highway and hoped she was driving correctly and wasn't being mislead.

Thankfully, she wasn't. A she drove into the city, she marveled at the liveliness of it all. She'd never seen anything like it. The people, the buildings, the colors. Katrina had never seen a place with the amount of color New York City had.

And the people…everywhere Katrina looked was a new person. Some in groups, some in pairs, some alone. She passed adults walking their babies in strollers, she passed groups of teenagers laughing and eating ice cream, she passed lone wolves with headphones stuck in their ears. Katrina didn't know exactly the area she was in. The bridge she'd crossed, she was sure it was called Manhattan Bridge. After that, all she knew was that she was in New York City because she saw the Empire State Building.

Katrina immediately ditched the car. She didn't have any money to park it and it was a waste of time. She could walk. And if she needed to, she could easily steal another one. She left the car at the side of the road. Someone else could deal with that.

Katrina looked at the view in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat.

She made it.

Even in the hospital, Natasha still can manage to force me into a date.

Right now Steve was on his way to a well known café to go on a blind date that Natasha set up for him. She'd been doing this ever since they met a year ago, and although Steve appreciated the gestures, he sometimes didn't know why Natasha spent so much of her time focused on him.

It's because you're lonely, she'd said. Steve had scoffed at that, even though he knew it was true. When he came out of the ice everyone he knew was dead. It'd been seventy years. Howard, Dr. Erskine, Bucky…Steve felt a pain in his chest when he thought about Bucky. He didn't like to think about how Bucky had died even before Steve hit the ice. How he never got to say goodbye.

And Peggy.

Steve had loved no one like he loved her. He didn't know if he could love anyone else like he loved her. She was different from everyone else. She had this…persistence, about her. This headstrong attitude, this independence, this stamina. Peggy was the one Steve had looked up to the most. Even before the serum, she viewed him as not a burden like everyone else, but an equal.

And then all of that ended when he hit the ice. Stupid, so stupid. I'm so stupid, he told himself sometimes. He felt so guilty about it, he never even got a proper goodbye. And he felt even guiltier because he knew what he had done was for the safety of everyone, but he sometimes reminisced about what would've happened if he didn't. If he didn't…would it have mattered? The Tesseract came out of the ice along with him.

Now I'm really being stupid. I'm so selfish.

He was the most selfish person he'd ever seen.

When Steve's stop arrived, he was out of the train in a flash. As he walked through the streets of New York City, he marveled at how beautifully the city had been rebuilt. And only in a year. The battle of New York had completely destroyed the city, and although Steve had tried his best to help with the cleanup, Fury had warned him against it. Although he was viewed as a hero, he said it was still bad for him to show his face again to the public so soon.

Steve saw her as soon as he entered the café. Le Charmant Café. She, Dakota, had insisted on coming here. Steve would've preferred to come to his usual coffee shop, but Dakota had insisted on this place instead. Natasha said she had blonde hair, and Steve only saw one female blonde in the café, so he made his way to her.

Dakota looked up from the menu she was reading. She smiled. "Steve?"

"I'm the guy." Steve smiled. "Dakota, right? I'm sorry, I forgot, was it north or south?"

Silence. Dakota didn't laugh, or even smile. She just stared at Steve. Steve awkwardly coughed. Clearly that joke either wasn't good, or she didn't get it. Natasha always told him to start off the conversation with a joke. Maybe it was her idea of a prank. "I'm going to sit down now," Steve mumbled. He sat, and Dakota still didn't say a word. Already, this date was going horribly wrong.

Steve picked up a menu. Two seconds later, Dakota asked, "So are you paying or am I? I mean, you're the guy, so I think you should pay." Dakota stared at Steve.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. "Don't worry, I've got the bill." Steve never minded paying, but her obtuseness threw him off slightly. He glanced down at the menu, and inhaled slightly. Everything on this menu looked so fancy. Nothing looked appealing. And there were only about ten things on the menu to begin with. He decided to settle just with a coffee.

He tried to make some small talk with her. "So…what do you do for a living?"

She shifted. "Well…I don't really do anything." Steve looked at her questioningly. "I just stay with my boyfriend, to be honest."

Steve blinked once. Then he blinked twice. "Pardon?"

"Yeah," she said, waving her hand. "He's just a phase. We had a thing for a few weeks, but nothing serious. I've been looking for someone new recently, so…here I am." She laughed, and Steve tried his best to laugh along with her, but ended up choking on his own saliva.

When the waitress came to their table, Steve gave his order, and then waited for Dakota to give hers. She didn't order much also, just one slice of cake.

She stirred the straw in the water. "So, where are you from?"

"Brooklyn, actually."

"Really?" She looked up. "Ugh, I was hoping you weren't actually from America."

Steve wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

At his confused stare, she clarified. "I just don't really like American boys. They're, like, too passionate for me."

Again, Steve wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

"All this talk about 'freedom!' and 'rights for everything!'…just waaay too passionate for me. Like, get a life." She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

Steve felt more uncomfortable than ever. Clearly, it was obvious that this girl doesn't know who he was. He looked down, avoiding eye contact. He had a feeling this was going to be a long date.

First, Katrina would have to dispose of her clothes. They smelled of blood and sweat, her pants were ripped slightly at the knee, and there was blood splattered on her shirt. The shirt was black, so it wasn't really noticeable as blood anyways, but Katrina didn't know how to not be paranoid.

Katrina walked down streets, looking for a clothing store to rob. Every store she passed didn't have appropriate attire for fighting, and Katrina almost wanted to vomit at the sight of the frilly pink dresses and sparkly black shoes. She wondered how women wear this stuff; didn't they get uncomfortable? How did they run and jump?

The day was hot and humid. Katrina was used to sweat, but she started feeling irritated. She pulled at her shirt.

As she walked, Katrina smelled something funny. She sniffed. Her eyes darted, instinctively looking around for dead bodies or lit buildings. She then realized this smell was different. Different and unusual. Sweet and sugary. She inhaled once, then inhaled twice, even stronger. She stopped, willing herself to find the source of the smell. She liked the smell.

Her nose buzzed, not yet accustomed with this unfamiliar yet pleasurable smell. She spotted something pink on the side of the street. A food cart. Behind it was a man in a white apron holding something out to a child It was a white stick with…pink cotton on it? Katrina neared the cart, the smell intensifying. She examined the cotton from a distance. What was that? Her gaze shifted and she watched the child stick his face into the cotton, pulling a piece out with his teeth and shove it into his mouth. It disappeared. How did he do that? Why did he just eat a piece of cotton?

The cotton smelled sickeningly sweet, and even though Katrina liked the smell, she willed herself not to run up to the cart and grab the stick from the man. She watched him and he held another stick inside the cart and started spinning it around slowly. She watched the cotton slowly envelope itself magically onto the cone. Her eyes almost popped out of her head.

Where was it coming from?

As much as she wanted to know more, she knew she had a mission to accomplish.

Steve stared down at his coffee, wishing he could drown in it. He stared into the empty black abyss, wondering if it would be better down there than up here. He willed himself to drink another sip.

The small talk was painful. Dakota asked him what he did for a living, and Steve said he drew. He could see the judgment in her eyes, but he ignored it because he wasn't going to go any further with this girl. He wondered why she didn't recognize him, but then decide he didn't care.

Steve felt like he was counting down the minutes until his death.

Katrina unnoticeably slithered out the door of the store she just robbed. She briskly walked down the sidewalk, hoping no one would notice. She'd left her used clothes in a pile in the dressing room she'd used, not bothering to care about how that would result.

For what seemed like hours or minutes, she couldn't tell, she walked down the streets of New York City. All she knew for sure was that she was impeccably thirsty. Her dry throat tightened, and she willed for something to quench her. She didn't have any money, and she didn't have any sort of water bottle.

So she pick-pocketed a stranger. What other option did she have? In her mind, the stranger was doing her a favor.

She'd grabbed his wallet without noticing, grabbed a few bucks, and returned the wallet. At first she wasn't planning on it, but she saw the two children with him, and she felt a prickle of guilt in her chest. With a sigh, she pocketed the money.

She decided that she wouldn't steal money from one stranger alone. Pick-pocketing was one of her favorite sports, so she would grab a little from someone different, accumulating more with each person. It's more fun for her that way.

She entered the next food shop she came across. It was a little café. She scanned the menu, and decided a coffee would make do. She didn't have too much money, she'd have to save it.

As she waited for her coffee, she leaned against the counter, and watched the few people that were in there. There was a younger looking girl sat alone at her table, and furiously typed on her laptop. She sipped a sip of her drink every few seconds, never taking her eyes off her screen. Katrina decided she must've been a college student. She wished she went to college.

The only other two people besides the baristas were a couple sat in the corner. Katrina could see the blonde girl, but couldn't see the guy sat across from her. All she saw was his blond hair.

Katrina heard her name called out, and turned around to pay for her coffee. She impatiently waited for the barista to put in her change, and she tapped her foot. Her sense of her surroundings kicked in, and she suddenly got a peculiar feeling at the back of her neck. Her nape pricked, and in two seconds, she grabbed her coffee, and turned around to leave before almost smashing into someone.

Her grip on her drink tightened when she saw it was that blonde guy. He was right behind her, but his face was turned to her left, so she couldn't really see his face. She scowled at him, and he mumbled something like an apology. His face seemed distressed...concerned. Worried. Focused. Concentrated? His face hardened like steel.

Annoyed, Katrina ignored her precaution alarms blaring in her head, and pushed her way past him.

Steve saw it. On her ear.

Two eighty-three.