WHEN ELENORA WAS YOUNG, about two or so, she was given to an orphanage. She had spent all her life there until she was seven when she was moved to a foster home. From there, Elenora was relocated eight more times in the following seven years. She didn't have a home. Or a family.
So she ran away.
Elenora has run multiple times. That was one of the reasons she had trouble staying in a foster home. She kept running, and no one wanted to chase her. She ran away when she was nine, and successfully stayed out for two days before she was caught; she was moved from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Elenora tried again when she was eleven, got away for four days, but was found by a police officer at the doughnut shop (talk about stereotypes); from Manhattan to New York City.
But this time she was determined to get away with it, forever. Elenora wasn't sure how she was going to support herself, but she knew she was going to to it. She had too. Her last family had seen what she could do, and they knew what she was capable of- they'd call the authorities. She had to leave. So on November twentieth, 17 hours after her foster parent had seen her flicker, she was prepped to run. Elenora didn't care where too, just away from fake homes and mean people.
After sneaking out a four story window and down a fire escape (which was difficult because to her inconvenient fear of heights), Elenora was headed down New York City's finest, JackWill Boulevard. It was nearly completely inhabitied by the darkness that lurked from above. Tin garbage cans creaked, and smoke fled from chimneys of small shackled houses, and the rustling of the stray animals were clearly heard. It was a cliche alleyway, with all the sudden noises and the shadows, but Elenora knew it was necessary to exit this way. No cop, agent, or foster parent would ever think that a child of her age would dare to travel this way, mostly due to her small and shy personality. What they should've learned over 14 years was that Elenora might be quiet, but she most definitely knew her way out of tightly threaded situations. So Elenora was pretty prepared for any issue ahead.
Rather, that's what she she believed.
What she was not expecting was a low and anxious voice to break the ominous silence.
"Hey, kid."
She spun on her heel, nearly cowering fear. Don't kill me, don't kill me, she silently begged. Even in the dark, the shape of the man was not hard to recognize, anyone alive, (or dead with a newspaper subscription, for that matter) could easily know who it was. With his height, as well as the silver reflecting off his shield, and the glimmer of the sea blue eyes hidden behind the mask, her nerves skyrocketed, Elenora knew who he was. And she knew he knew what she was.
Captain America had found Elenora.
The Avengers had found Elenora.
The authorities finally had her.