Combine the flour, salt, and yeast in a bowl and stir. Add water and any herbs, if used. Remove dough and knead for 5 minutes. Set aside to rise for 4 to 18 hours.

So, this is how humans made their food? Going through these recipe books, it seemed like it took a lot of work, but she guessed with all the required supplies sitting nearby the actual preparation work wouldn't be that bad.

Click.

The echo of the human's shoes pulled Trinitite from her reading, and The Abyssal dully realized the human's awkward shuffling had stopped for a while.

Click.

She was moving with purpose, and while she certainly wasn't much of a threat to the Wo-class, the Navy certainly still was.

Click.

"Going somewhere?"

Judging by desperate "Of course not!" she received, Trinitite guessed that was a yes.

With a sigh, the Abyssal slapped the book shut. She'd gotten distracted. There would be a time where she could eat and read, and this was not it.

The human stiffened when Trinitite's gaze fell on her. Why was she so skittish? The human should know the Abyssal wanted her alive by now. Judging by her position relative to the center of the aisle, it was obvious where she'd been trying to go.

"Well..." Trinitite started, exiting the aisle. The uniformed human had been trying to get away from her, sure, but she'd edged towards a part of the warehouse Trinitite hadn't inspected yet. A strange strategy, as if Trinitite wanted to get away from herself, she'd hide in sections of the building the searcher had already looked through. There must be something very important if the Human was willing to risk getting caught again.

"Let's see what's over… there…"

A woman's face, as large as Trinitite was tall, stared back at her. Her skin seemed unnaturally smooth(for a human, anyways), contrasting sharply with blood-red lips and sharp eyebrows.

Curiosity drove the Abyssal forwards. What kind of supplies would require such a flamboyant display? She approached wordlessly, occasionally checking to ensure the human was following her.

The items, packed in small vials or tiny boxes, filled her view, as custom shelves ensured they were stored as compactly as possible. Each container prominently displayed either a color or another striking image, a competition for attention that the Abyssal almost found overwhelming.

Numbly, she plucked one of the containers off an angled shelf, gravity sliding another into its place like a ready shell. The Abyssal brought the cylindrical container up to her face, turning it until its label was clear. Obviously 'Lipstick' had something to do with your mouth, but wouldn't food be stored back where she'd been? The top of the cylinder came off with a clean pop, revealing a dull red pillar. It didn't look particularly edible, despite its bloody sheen. Besides, who would store food like this?

When a cautious poke left a blood-red dot on her finger, the item's nature was finally revealed.

Trinitite rubbed her fingers together, allowing the non-paint to mix with her skin as she surveyed the display before her. Each column of cylinders on the specialized shelf sported a slightly different shade, and she spotted different colors like of black and even blue. 'Lipstick' was a pretty apt name, it seemed. This was a product that a human would use to change the color of their lips, almost like some kind of ship's… camouflage…

The Abyssal took a step back, taking in the entire aisle. If the purpose of this area was anything like she thought it was, then the task of looking for her mother just got a lot easier. Judging by the look on the human's face, it seemed Trinitite wasn't the only one to get the idea. Human camouflage, indeed.

Trinitite had no idea what 'mascara,' 'foundation,' or 'contour' was, but she made sure her berths had plenty of it. She'd have time to experiment later. Beyond the current section of the store, another part of the warehouse had caught her eye, and that certainly wasn't something she could rush.

"Hey!"

Right. She was forgetting something, wasn't she?

Now that Elizabeth thought about it, the Abyssal ransacking cosmetics didn't look too different from the various young women she'd seen wandering the section. The way she ogled the display and inspected the products made her seem much younger than she looked, and her eyes were a clear giveaway, but it wouldn't take much for her to pass as any other twenty-something wandering around Northwest Washington.

Isn't that terrifying.

Two beads of light peeked over the Abyssal's toothy collar. In her sleep-addled state Elizabeth didn't realize they were something's eyes until they flickered in a manner she recognized as blinking. Before she had a good chance to process that information, another object obscured them.

Click.

Did something just… take a picture of her?

The thing on the Abyssal's collar turned, a miniature camera refocusing on the advertisements decorating the shelves.

Click.

With that, the tiny creature ducked back under the row of teeth, disappearing once again. With her photos taken and a large portion of the store's cosmetics resting somewhere, the Abyssal turned and marched away, dead-set on plundering another part of the Shelton Fred Meyers.

"So," the monster had been quiet while she gathered makeup, but as they left cosmetics she'd started speaking again. Now that she thought about it, abyssal speech Elizabeth heard from the news was always echoey and ethereal, but this one's voice seemed fairly normal. "This is human clothing?"

The abyssal paused next to a clothes rack displaying blouses, grabbing a hanger and holding it in front of her.

"It is." Elizabeth verified, closing the distance between the pair. The blouse was white, too thin to be worn on its own. It was also several sizes too small for the abyssal, and there was no doubt it wouldn't survive her attempts to wear it.

"Why do you keep so much of it?" one of her hands let go of the blouse, and the Abyssal swept it across Apparel. An eighth of the store's floor space was dedicated to the section, and a dividing wall hid the majority of it from view, but even then there must have been hundreds of items visible.

"Because they sell well?" She replied, unsure. The Abyssal seemed to grasp basic economics quickly. Supply and demand should have been obvious to her, right?

"Sell?"

"Plenty of them get traded for money." Elizabeth clarified, resisting the urge to cradle her face in her hands.

"How?" She replied, turning to face the manager. "There can't be that many people in this city."

"I don't understand." The store's inventory, even added with that of the nearby Walmart and Goodwill couldn't hope to keep up with Shelton's demand.

"How often do people need clothes?" She asked, pulling the blouse off the hanger and stretching it by either shoulder. Almost immediately, the immense strength of the monster came into play, and with a horrific noise the garment the sundered at one of the shoulders.

The ex-blouse dominated the pair's attention for a good ten seconds.

"You sell clothing so fragile, people have to constantly return for replacements?" The abyssal was the first to recover, seizing another section of the blouse and experimentally tearing another hole. "Wow. Mother always called you humans untrustworthy, but this scheme is more than I could have imagined."

How was she supposed to respond to that? From the immediate deflection of blame, to the insult of her (pretty expensive, nowadays) product, to the casual racism, Elizabeth had plenty to be flabbergasted at. If this was any other customer, she would be. However, this was far better than she expected from an abyssal, so taking it in stride proved easier than she thought. She hadn't killed Elizabeth yet, and the manager had spent over an hour past her regular schedule as a doormat. Perhaps a little pushback was called for.

"It's not a fragile product." The store manager asserted, grabbing a blouse from the rack that actually looked like it could fit The Abyssal. "We can expect the average customer to keep this for six years, maybe more." Removing it from the hanger, Elizabeth grasped each shoulder and gave it a hard tug. As expected, the blouse stretched taut, but the fresh fabric held firm. "Few people can walk on water or bench press a train."

The abyssal shook her head, exasperated. "That's not what I mean." She held up the ruined fabric, shaking it a little as she spoke. "It might last six years if you don't do anything but wear it, but any real work?" She shook her head. "It'll be shreds."

"You don't do hard labor in this!" Elizabeth almost shouted. What, did she think everyone wore the same outfit, all the time?

"Why wear this, then? You're going to have to do some rough work at some point in six years."

Oh god. She did, didn't she? This time, the urge to facepalm was irresistible.

"What?"

The monster's question went ignored as Elizabeth tried to get her thoughts in order.

"Ma'am, have you ever worn anything instead of that" with her free hand, she made a motion covering The Abyssal's body "in your entire life?"

"No?" The Abyssal replied.

"Oh, you poor thing." she intoned, surprisingly unsure if she meant it or not. "What do you do when it needs cleaned?" Elizabeth resisted the urge to poke a clay-brown stain on The Abyssal's front. She'd seen plenty of those when the boys played around in their church clothes.

"My crew are pretty good at…" The Abyssal cut herself short as her eyes widened. "Oh."

"Exactly." Elizabeth continued. "I personally have five blouses like this." She motioned to the clothing in her hand "As well as several dress shirts, dresses, shirts, t-shirts, tank tops, sweaters, and jackets. That's not including leggings or footwear," she motioned to The Abyssal's feet, covered only by The Abysssal's dark tights (or pants?) "which you seem to be lacking."

"That…" She looked back up, taking in the apparel section with what seemed to be renewed appreciation. "...seems excessive."

"Oh, you're worse than Steven." Elizabeth started, rubbing her temples. "Look, do you want to wear the same thing every day?"

"I do?" The Abyssal wavered, dropping the ruined blouse and rubbing a corner of her cape. "This is… part of me."

"Wrong." Elizabeth replied, and the monster actually twitched at her reply. Maybe it was because she was too tired of getting walked over, or maybe she was just too tired in general, but she could only take The Abyssal's reaction as a sign to continue.

"This uniform?" Elizabeth almost poked the Abyssal's collar, but she didn't feel like pushing her luck that far. "It's your job. It's what you wear as an Abyssal… what kind of ship are you?"

"Aircraft Carrier."

"That's what you wear as an Abyssal Aircraft Carrier. Just like this..." She tugged on the collar of her black polo shirt. "...is what I wear as the Manager of a Fred Meyers. When I'm off work, I pick what to wear based on what I expected to do that day and how I'm feeling."

"Must be a lot of feelings." The Abyssal muttered, surveying a multicolored rack of dresses.

"There is." Elizabeth confirmed. "Your clothes are an expression of who you are, so someone can tell a few things about you at a glance."

The Abyssal stared back at Elizabeth, mulling over her speech for several seconds, before her face tightened and she nodded with conviction.

"Okay."

The abused blouse fell to the floor as The Abyssal gripped the two plates of armor at her hips. With a click, they separated slightly, allowing her to slide her leggings, armor and all, down her legs and onto the floor. With a flurry, she whipped the odd clothing behind her, the pants disappearing with everything else she'd stolen that night.

Next came the cape. The Abyssal's hands wrapped around her neck guard, her fingers tracing where it met her suit. The two articles of clothing separated, and immediately the skin tight suit she wore loosened. She was… bigger than Elizabeth had realized, which didn't sit well with her. Why did creatures that emulated war machines and seemed to feed off hate get supermodel bodies?

Even with the items in question missing, Elizabeth could clearly see where her hip and collar armor had met her body. Stripes of black material interrupted her pale skin, the odd pattern that only extended where The Abyssal's armor was supposed to be. She initially thought the strips were some kind of intricate tattoo, but their texture shared far much more with the armor she was removing than the skin it had replaced. It would be somewhat natural another creature, but the fact it was on a humanoid made it anything but. At least there was something she couldn't paint over with makeup.

While her gaze lingered on The Abyssal's odd marking, her gloves were removed, disappearing as she stowed them with the rest of her clothes. Now that all she had left was her final layer, which Elizabeth would describe as some kind of long-sleeved leotard. With a start, the sleep-deprived Elizabeth finally realized what the Abyssal was doing.

"Woah, wait!"

The Abyssal halted as Elizabeth jumped, a moment away from sliding an arm out and exposing herself to both Elizabeth and the Security cameras.

"We have changing rooms over there." Elizabeth stated, pointing to another section of Apparel. The Abyssal turned, casting only a brief glance at behind her.

"'Changing', as in there are separate rooms for changing clothes?"

"Yeah" Elizabeth replied, fearing she already knew the answer.

"Good try." The Abyssal dismissed, pulling her arm free. "You've already tried to get help twice. I'm not letting you leave my sight."

Elizabeth sighed, averting her gaze and taking a nearby seat.

Whatever. Eat your heart out, CCTV.

Well, It's still Monday somewhere in the world, right? You'll notice this isn't the 4.6K chapter I was talking about, but in order to be timely and more consistent with previous updates I'm splitting it into two.