January 10th, 2011 - Monday
Morning

The bell above the door rang as Taylor stepped into the small grocery store. The man behind the counter looked up at her, clearly suspicious of a teenager not in school at this kind of hour. Her power didn't get much from him, however.

Maybe I should've waited for the afternoon...

Her stomach rumbled at that, communicating its opinion of that idea, the buzz from yesterday faintly whispering again. Shaking her head, she went along the shelves, trying to compromise between getting enough food to last her and having to carry it around for however long that'll be. She felt the shopkeeper's eyes on her the whole time. After making her choices, she went up to the counter, nervous sweat making her keenly aware of how long it's been since she'd last had a shower, and the shopkeeper's growing irritation.

And then she saw her own face on the newspaper stand. "WINSLOW'S CARRIE STILL AT LARGE". At least it wasn't the Brockton Daily, only a smaller magazine that, at a glance, seemed to cater to cape fans. After a moment's hesitation, she picked it up, making sure to not point the front page at the man, who was looking at her with ever more distrustful eyes. At least it didn't seem like he recognized her. She approached him to pay for her purchases.

"Weird time to be going out shopping. Shouldn't you be at school?" he asked, while the register displayed the total.

"Dad's sick and can't go to the hospital. Didn't think it's a good idea to leave him alone for that long," Taylor answered in a slightly irritated tone due to the gradually worsening buzzing, after a moment's hesitation she hoped the man would attribute to inattentiveness, handing over the cash.

"Hmph. Alright. Here's your change." He counted it out, almost painfully slowly. Strange, he didn't seem new to the place...

As Taylor collected her change and grabbed the magazine with her left hand, the police car pulling up next to the store answered that question. The two officers walking through the door stopped her from leaving.

"Miss, please stay right here," one of them, a tall, black man with a scar on his lip ordered in a firm voice, grabbing her right forearm. She dropped her bag, the dull impact not sounding like it broke anything.

Taylor frantically looked from him to his colleague, a white man who seemed to have a noticeable amount of fat added on top of his muscles, with a scraggly black beard that looked more like it survived an occassional shaving than being deliberately grown.

"This girl here comes in stinking like a hobo with jitters, and I'm to guess she's paying with her own money? No, officers, I'm sure she's a Merchant and stole it!" the shopkeeper cut in, apparently working himself into getting angrier with every word. The first officer looked at him, then back to Taylor, who was growing increasingly frustrated by that incessant buzzing...

"Well then, Miss. If you'd explain where-" he cut off, his eyes widening in realization.

He recognized my face.

Taylor reacted, shoving the man into his colleague and dashing for the door. They stumbled and swore, the accompanying spike of anger causing her to break the door's hinges when slamming it open, startling a freckled blonde with bottle-green eyes. She ran down the street in a panic, the few people out at this hour clearing the way, each one's annoyance at her behaviour being like a sip of fresh water. After no signs of pursuit for three blocks, she slowed down to a walking pace and tried to get her breathing under control, her mind clearing of the adrenaline rush.

And realized her bag was still at the store, the food she spent most of her cash on out of reach.

"Fuck!" she swore loudly, drawing disapproving looks from a couple walking down the sidewalk across the street. It was then that she realized her fingers were still dug into the now severely crumpled magazine. It seemed careless to read it so close to where she'd just had to run away from, but after another hour's wandering in silence she felt confident enough to lean against a wall out of sight of the street and start reading. It was called the "Cape Gazette", and had the look of a publication that was sold in many places and taken seriously in none.

~o~o~o~

"Sightings of the parahuman Taylor Hebert, officially named 'Eris' by the PRT, have been sporadic but constant since the Winslow Massacre. A known loner and troublemaker, classmates claim Miss Hebert's antisocial behaviour reached its peak when unknown students attempted to prank her."

Taylor had to make sure her newfound strength did not destroy the magazine. For all that it was bullshit, it was the first source of news she's had her hands on this week. Her bullies remaining unnamed and their slander believed was doing her self-control no favors, however.

"Witnesses claim that after finding her locker filled with unspecified materials, Eris violently attacked a nearby student and used her power during the altercation."

Unspecified materials? Unspecified materials!? Whoever they got their story from was clearly too disgusted to specify them, not that anyone cared Sophia tried to shove her in with them! Using her power... Taylor still could not remember the moment she did that clearly. She only remembered her head cracking against the side of the locker, her glasses shattering. As the world went dark and spun, she felt electrified... then reflexively opened her healthy-again eyes to a scene of utter pandemonium.

"The students observing the scene were driven berserk by a Master effect, turning on each other in a fit of violence. Of the thirty affected, six died on the scene and two more before Panacea's arrival. The renowned healer has been unable to help three victims."

Taylor felt sickness rising in her stomach, barely managing to not throw up, helped significantly by being on an empty stomach. Eight people... She spent a few minutes trying to get herself under control, before looking at the magazine for the last time.

"Eris fled during the scene and is still at large. Her father, Daniel Hebert, head of hiring for the DWU, could not be reached for comment."

The last sentence was an ice spike to the heart. She had been so distracted by trying to avoid pursuit, she had managed to keep her mind off her father, except a couple times at the early hours of the night, when there simply weren't people around to look out for.

What was he thinking of her now?