Carrie is 12 years old with superpowers, she can probably handle herself. To the industrial district.
You stride out purposefully, yet directionally toward the largely post-industrial parts of the city, specifically Winsper Park, the former site of that chemical plant Project Ed blew up just last year, still largely deserted by people fearing carcinogens in the air and prions in sandboxes, and who knows what other sorts of sci-fi pathogens sprinkled into the air. These are obviously unfounded fears, you know as a twelve-year-old, since it certainly looks totally safe and not at all carcinogenic, if a bit ghostly and stuff. You didn't quite intend to come here, but you guess it's the best place you could have chosen if exploring derelict areas is your bag. You wander into the yard of the centerpiece of the area - the ruined factory, windows blown out, parts collapsed inward. Urban exploration at its finest, you would say, especially given the deserted nature of the place.
"Hey! Girlie! How's it going?" goes a woman's voice from a slight distance behind you, and you get a sensation of foreboding for some reason.
Dissapointed by the lack of options available Steven resorts to his backup plan.
Waiting for nightfall he heads back to one of the pawn shops in the seedier parts of town and uses a payphone to anonymously report a suspected burglary attempt on the store. That completed he conceals himself nearby and waits for the police to arrive.
Should the police arrive he waits for the cruiser to begin passing his hiding place and fires a pair of directed shockwaves with one firing behind him to brace against the recoil and the other firing into the cruisers back wheel in an attempt to flip the vehicle and non-lethally incapacitate its occupants.
You wait for nightfall, and then wait outside the seediest dang pawn shop in town - a place only referred to as Tom's - and call in a false burglary, then get out of sight. Sure enough, a police cruiser quickly arrives, two officers of the law in it, then drives up to the front of the establishment. As soon as they are in place, you spring your attack, letting loose a shockwave aimed at the back wheel of the cruiser.
The thing you notice most immediately is that aiming at the same time as you are moving, especially when the target itself is moving, even if it is rather slowly, is, when taken all together, rather difficult, and your frontal shockwave misses most awfully, blasting the windows of the opposite building right out as well as collapsing its front door. The rear shockwave is less imprecise, and manages to put quite an awesome dent in the brick wall it glances.
The police, for their part, seem to be on the money, by and large, and immediately roll out, speeding up to take themselves out of the apparent range of the parahuman they are in no position to take down. Their move is slightly panicky, but you suppose it makes sense, in a way.
On the other hand, your element of surprise is rather soundly ruined now, you think.
Kyle sits in an armchair and folds his hands on his chest.
"No, this isn't something I can just move on from... If I lust for murder... then I'll feed it in a positive way,"Kyle smirks and sits up a little."Yes, that's it, I'll hunt down the worst of the worse, murderers, rapists, abusers, lawyers..." Kyle pauses and frowns. "Bad joke. Anyways, I'll hunt down the ones they don't catch or punish and kill them... And the first step... Is figuring out if I really was home before."
Kyle gets up and starts walks around to places he would normally do things at and glare until he got some idea of if he was there earlier.
Strengthened by your monologue, you rise with renewed determination, seeking to determine whether you really were home before. You wander into the kitchen, and do indeed notice that there are traces of pancake making here - drops of batter on the stove, a few unclean forks and knives despite the dishes being fastidiously clean, and a general lack of ventilation. This would point to habitation by you normally, were it not for the way you find pancakes proletarian and opt for burritos much of the time instead. Clearly, if you were even here, it was
a you rather that simply you - a tasteless lout of a you, no doubt. It'd have to be to let your dogs go missing like that and also steal your TV for some reason.
Selina tried to eat the omelet slowly, but ended up wolfing it down after eating about a 3rd of it. She was hungry. After finishing, she looked over at Lynn.
"Th-thank you... i-it was good." Selina was filled with gratitude for the help her fellow teens had given her when virtually all others had ignored or been mean too her.
"Glad to help, I guess," Lynn shrugs phlegmatically, though you do see a vague trace of a smile on her face.
"Anyhow, Selina, want to have a room of your own, or are you okay bunking with a few of us?" Beth asks, slightly awed by your display of gluttony.
Alex would stare at Kibbel in silence. He would then begin to speak. "I'm not sure. I think i'm super durable, and when I attacked somebody, I appeared to be in an empty white plane. I don't think I was near her when I attacked, though."
It's still a bit uncomfortable to talk, you notice. There's an awkwardness to it that starts to kick in when speaking for longer than a few seconds.
"Huh. So it's maybe some kind of Shaker power?" Kibbel wonders aloud, scratching his chin. "What do you mean, when you attacked somebody?"