Biography

[dreams_of_sanfran]

Caroline "Carrie" Merson was born on June 29, her early childhood filled with seemingly endless days of wonder, exploring and doing all those odd and silly things kids love to do. Life was lovely for the four: the parents, Carrie, and her sister, Sibyl. Unfortunately, their happiness was short lived. On a late August night when Carrie was four years old, the family's house burned to the ground. Only one person survived by a combination of luck and a good man. A neighbor and off-duty firefighter had seen the flames from his window across the street and rescued Carrie from the inferno; however, he was unable to return for the others, as the house was completely and utterly ablaze by that point in time. The police report deemed it an accidental fire, caused by the father who had fallen asleep on the couch with a lit cigarette in his hand.

The fireman looked after Carrie until a social worker could take her to a local group home. All alone in this huge world, the young girl tried to latch on to certain staff members or other children, but she quickly learned that they couldn't be employed or live there forever and would eventually leave. It wasn’t long until she was able to piece together that faces came and went all the time.

After spending three years at the group home, she bounced from foster home to foster home. At first, parental figures didn’t quite have the effect that her that her social worker was hoping for; Carrie never seemed to get attached. That’s not to say she didn’t like some of them, but she was expecting them to leave eventually from the get-go (just like the people in the group home). To her child’s mind, it made no sense to try and attach herself to the hip of anyone. She was moved the first few times because of this. Like many other foster children, while some of the parents were adequate enough, others were absolutely terrible. It’s a result of the latter that caused Carrie, from a young age, to learn how to be far more independent than a normal child. The two intertwined to create an unfortunate concoction of serial house jumping.

In her 16th year, she was sent to another foster home... her last. While the parents were self-righteous and strict, over a year managed to pass by smoothly. From earlier experiences in her life, Carrie also learned how to "smile and wave" in order to survive peacefully; while every foster parent had a different personality and different quirks, the pleasure of polite respect and rule abidance seemed to be a constant. So while she rarely agreed with what these foster parents said about the world, religion, and her life, she successfully avoided causing arguments, and life between the three of them was relatively peaceful.

It was around that time that a strange phenomena began to occur around the world. A small population of people were discovering unnatural powers within themselves, with seemingly no reason or rhyme. There was no correlation between the individuals; location, age, gender, ethnicity, culture, religion, and lifestyle seemed to play no role in who became "empowered".

With the globalized media, it wasn't long until people were discovered or came into the light with their stories. It also wasn't long until the inexplicable event became a scientific, political, and religious debate. For the time being, science had found no answers to the conundrum, and as such, the moral elite stood up to give their explanation. Simply put, these individuals had sold their souls to the devil in some manner, and therefore have not only become an enemy of God, but an enemy of the human race in general. Sadly, as we all know, politics and religion are never truly separated, and within the United States, these "superhumans" quickly became hot topic. The religiously conservative pushed for legislation, and a good percentage the fearful public agreed.

Sadly, these parents were part of that number. There was no doubt in their minds that the church was correct about these "Godless creatures," and with the increased coverage and the hate jargon growing more prominent, they spoke more and more about the issue. Carrie typically just let them talk, nodding her head in silence. While it was a horrible issue, she never let it bother her much. It wasn’t her fight. It didn’t apply to her.

Until a few weeks later. While helping them do yard work one afternoon, Carrie fell off a ladder, and on the way down, she sliced her arm on one of the bolts. Worried, the foster parents rushed over, only to see something utterly "inhuman" occur. Her hand had flown over the gash in pain, and before she could say or do anything to the contrary, her palm began to glow softly and the wound beneath it closed up. The couple was appalled, disgusted, and angry that her social worker had sent them a Devil's Pawn, “of all abominations.” They locked her in her room until they could figure out what to do with her.

Meanwhile, her social worker pleaded with the foster parents; high school would be over soon, and she’d be 18 in a few weeks after that. If they could just bear with her and this turn of events until her schooling was done and she was legal, they’d be free of her forever. Bitterly and begrudgingly, they agreed. The next few weeks passed horridly; the parents ignored her as best they could, and when they didn’t, they treated her as a second class citizen, sometimes less. They acted as if they could barely stand to sit in the same room, much less breath the same air as her.

Things only got worsened as gossip about her began to seep throughout the close-knit town. Soon, it wasn’t only her parents avoiding her and treating her like a monster; the townspeople began to as well. She couldn’t even take the bus to school anymore, at least not without taunting, degrading cussing, spit balls, and shoving. Even teachers showed a bias, grading her work lower than it should have been; which, in turn, did nothing for her favor in the eyes of her foster parents and the town.

However, as graduation came and went and she was awaiting her birthday, the townspeople began to hold protests against having a "Devil's Pawn" in their hometown; some were close to all-out riots. As she was walking back from the store on evening, tying to “make herself useful” to her foster parents by picking up some eggs and milk, a group of protesters caught sight of her. They chased her down into the woods, not stopping until she stumbled and ran far enough into the thick maze to lose them. She had narrowly escaped, but was thankfully alive and sustained no injures from the mob itself; however, there were various cuts and bruises from tripping and falling about through the undergrowth and trees. Dirty, battered, and grocery-less, she refused to use her powers to heal in hopes her foster parents would see that she didn't want to be what she was. When she finally found her way “home,” she explained what had happened to her and the groceries... but they merely scoffed, saying, “You could have done your Devil’s work and been just fine.” If anything, they were far more upset over the lost bag of groceries than her "disgustingly filthy" skin, clothes, and horrific ordeal.

That night as she lay in bed, she decided she had to leave. A few more weeks couldn’t wait. With the way things were going, she might not be in one piece that much longer... or even alive. Fearing for her well-being and life, she packed up everything that she owned, shoved it into her old hand-me-down van, and left. She could only afford to fill up the tank all the way twice, deciding she’d drive until it was empty, stopping in the farthest town or city it would take her.

As she drove, her mind began to race; where exactly would she go from here? Where would she go from where ever she stopped? Would she even make it to civilization when the tank ran dry? What would she do then? She didn’t have anybody in this whole wide world except a worn-out toy poodle and a rickety old van. And now she was saddled with this unwanted ability, one that labeled her as a threat, regardless of how non-dangerous she truly was.

No... no, there had to be another way. She could start new, never use her power, hide what she was. But where? And how?

As the hours ticked on, her mind settled on some images; the Golden Gate Bridge, Ghiradelli Square, China Town... San Francisco. A liberal city where so many people come and go, she probably wouldn’t see the same face twice. And heck, to her knowledge, if they supported every gender, fetish, and oddball artist, then perhaps they’d be more open to supporting this new "humankind" too. Those thoughts filled her with hope, ambition, and determination. Yes. She’d get to San Francisco, she’d live on her own, she’d live happily.

The gas light clicked on, shaking her from her thoughts; she had reached mid-Kansas, the small town of Kiowa.

It’s here she’s currently settled, living alone (aside from two new pets: a fish named Tony and a rat named Ramona) in a small old apartment, working as a secretarial assistant for a local newspaper (The Kiowa News), as well as waitressing at a local diner. She prides herself on blending into the background, making sure no one learns of what she is, and is currently saving up to be able to make it to San Francisco.


Explanation of her ability:

Heal: a means of reversing damage; currently, it only works on organic tissue. It's done through a process of placing her hands over a wound, causing an ionic light (much like a flashlight) to be emitted, through which the injury reverses it's condition, the organic tissue returning to its state before the wound occurred. However, this process cannot reverse the presence of bacteria, viruses, toxins, or parasites which may have entered the wound beforehand. In such cases, an infection is still possible, if not deadly. This power also cannot reverse cancers or mutations of any other sort. She cannot control it on a mass cellular level, meaning she can't undo any circulating blood-cell damage caused by a pathogen in the blood; this means she does still get sick. Currently, she only uses this her power on herself if she’s at home, and only if she’s sure no one will notice that the cut or scrape is gone.


Physical changes: the only thing that changed was the color of her eyes, turning from a hazel into an odd blue. It's the only physical indication of the change within her. Though it's far more subtle and easier to get away with having than the changes others around the globe are experiencing, she’s fearful that those keeping a keen lookout for her kind would be able to spot it. There are no powers connected with this oddity.