Former Glory (Open to All)

New York wasn't a new place for Carter, but in it's current state, it was hardly recognizable. He had visited the city many years ago, before it had been attacked by the cross-dimensional villains. Before he had harnessed his powers, even. It truly was new now that the reconstruction process had made great progress, rebuilding a majority of the city, save for the areas that had already been rundown in the first place. All things considered, these ruins suited Carter well.

Having learned to live a life of material-detachment, Carter found himself fitting in quite well. Those who lived in the ruins truly owned nothing in name, struggling and scrounging from day to day just to survive. He tried not to interfere with them for the most part, leaving them to suffer in peace. There were of course those who took advantage of such suffering, controlling and benefiting from those unable to leave the ruins, or simply unwilling.

Ever since he had returned from the East, Carter had settled in the ruins, adopting what he felt was an appropriate look, with his now ragged black jacket, white T-shirt, and blue jeans ensemble. He looked like any other filthy ruin-dweller at this point. His day had consisted mostly of climbing over the rubble and debris of collapsed structures, making his way home after the little meeting he had been invited to. They had known a lot about Carter, despite him being a nobody.

A resounding boom could be felt and heard in the near distance, followed by screams and the gunshots that quickly drowned them out. Likely another scuffle over the meager amount of territory that was ungoverned at the moment, yet to have been prepared for the restoration effort. The lowly thugs were never too heavily armed, almost always being taken out by deployed task forces, or heroes alike. As Carter continued on his way, he knew today would be no different.

The road home was almost barricaded with debris, stacks of rubble and building leftovers that piled up high, blocking out the horizon for most of those who traversed on foot. This area was easily one of the worst, having yet to receive major aid from the government or any other relief organizations.

Reaching up, it only took a few moments for Carter to begin his climb, gripping metal rods and fractured stone to balance himself as he scaled the pile. His jacket began to flap wildly as he reached the top, calming against his body once the winds had passed. Directly ahead was the path towards his home, yet, now he was at an elevated position, able to see more than what his mind was focused on. To his left, further along one of the buried intersection's turns, was the violent exchange he had heard earlier.

Carter took a seat, letting his leg hang over the ledge as he examined the scene, grabbing a small chunk of concrete in his hand. Multiple individuals, taking cover within damaged building interiors, or behind the numerous toppled cars that were strewn about, as they fired upon each other.

Apparently, none of them had taken notice of the woman, someone Carter had immediately noticed, given his slight vantage point from above. There was no telling what she hoped to accomplish, but it seemed as if she was attempting to retrieve something.

Just then, one of the goons leaped from his original position, skidding along the ground near Fleur, before scrambling back on to his feet, a large butterfly knife clutched in his hand. "Hey, pretty lady," the thug called, beginning his approach while cautiously looking over his shoulder. Despite the compliment, his intentions were clearly not well. "We fight to hold this turf, and here you are stealin' from us?" He questioned, moving closer in an attempt to shove her away from whatever she was fiddling with in the garbage pile.