A foreign presence rummaged around in Juniper’s head–invasive, jittery, and all over the place. It skittered through her mind point-to-point like a needle dancing in its tip, Jumping from her frontal lobe to her medulla, then over her occipital lobe, then into her thalamus.
And why the fuck could she recall parts of the brain all of a sudden? She was never good with remembering anatomical parts.
[JUUUNNNIIIPER!!! GET HIM OUT!!!] Sys-chan screeched. Her voice—it rang in her ears, sharp and shrill. [KICK THE PERVERT IN THE BALLS OR SOMETHING!!! ANYTHING!!!]
[Terminal: I’m… 1’m n0t a P3rvert?! Wh@t’s g01ng 0n in h3r h3@d? It’s weird like I’m stuck in a biological UI… Absolutely fascinating.]
Colors started bleeding in and out of reality. Blue turned red. White became opaque grey. Everyone’s face leaked like melting oil paintings. Her vision tilted, forty-five degrees skewed to the side. She couldn’t find her balance, Had she started going crazy?
“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Annemarie’s voice cut through the static of her mind. “Stop it now, or I’ll cut off your fucking balls!”
The world snapped into place. Her senses became stabilized. But the effects of it lingered, buzzing in her skull.
Evelyn stood in silence, watching the scene unfolding. Eyes flicker between Juniper, Annemarie, and Then Terminal. “You— It’s like you have a sentient computer in your head. Why? That’s anomalous. That shouldn’t be possible under any circumstances, unless—”
“Terminal, stop.” Evelyn’s voice was firm but edged with warning.
He jerked back, blinking as if only now coming to the conclusion that he had done something wrong. He looked very ashamed. His head dipped low, hands on his sides, clenching his sweatpants. Lips buzzed and he whispered over and over again.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Juniper flinched. Not from fear but from the sudden quiet. The way he said it, desperate.
Annemarie, scowled at him, eyes looking to Evelyn for permission to wo-manhandle him. But she didn’t. He seemed anxious, too anxious. It was atypical behavior, Neurodivergence. It was like looking in a mirror that reflected a part of her face.
There was a time, she struggled to communicate, long ago.
“Annemarie, calm down. Terminal, focus on the job. You’re not in any trouble.” Evelyn’s said with a soothing whisper, her voice held authority, but there was something else in it. An understanding.
He stiffened, like a flipped switch. His eyes refocused, sharp but distant. He was trying very hard to act normal but didn’t quite know how.
He didn’t seem that bad.
Juniper felt him staring at her. Not with hostility. But with curiosity. Just staring. She exhaled, tension easing just a fraction.
“This is Terminal,” Evelyn said. “Don’t be alarmed by his behavior. It’s… the nature of his power. He messes with any electronic system, you Juniper, I don’t know how that relates to you. Well, I don’t know how to explain it properly. Terminal?”
He tilted his head. “Explain what exactly?”
She expected that answer, somehow.
Juniper let out a slow breath. He wasn’t a pervert. He wasn’t malicious. Just someone whose brain didn’t work the same way as everyone else’s.
“By introducing your powers, you autistic twink!” Annemarie blurted, baring her teeth.
“I am not a twink!” Terminal shot back, offended. He shrank inwards, arms tightening around himself, suddenly smaller. His head hung low.
Juniper felt a pang of guilt. He wasn’t good at this. Social stuff. People. Neither was she, but she knew what it was like to be stared at like you were off, like something about you didn’t click right with the rest of the world.
Evelyn groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Annemarie, I told you to stop calling him that. Anyway, All of you stop acting like dumb kids.” She muttered something under her breath and turned away.
“Let’s just get this going, we're one step closer to ending this routine nightmare,” she continued. “Juniper, Annemarie—there’s no time to waste. Everyone else is in motion, and I want leverage. I requested Terminal for one reason: he’s going to guide you toward a possible lead. I need to be elsewhere for a moment.”
Juniper let her breath out.
He kept staring at her awkwardly. She could tolerate it.
She didn’t hate him, nor did he elicit the same response from her that Annemarie did.
It was ok.
1st lead– Abandoned Gas Station
The Barren street stretches in front of them. The neighborhood is almost abandoned. It was Safe, too Safe. Thick scorch marks licked up on the side of the building’s exterior, and rusty oil stains leaked into dirt and pavement.
It honestly just seemed like a silent wasteland.
“We should skip this one, nothing to see here,” Juniper said, fiddling with her glove.
Terminal hummed over the comms. “There was definitely movement here. The scorch marks—fallacious, maybe, but given who we’re dealing with, it’s not out of the question.” A brief pause, then: “Juniper, as I understand, you were at the heart of the outbreak when it started. Perhaps you should smell the scorch marks.”
She frowned. It was an interesting idea. If she hadn’t already known it wasn’t the flame cult’s work.
She peeled off a glove, her fingers grazing the wall, smearing a layer of rusty dirt between them before bringing it to her nose.
“Burnt rubber. Oil,” she muttered. It was not the same. The fire back then had smelled stronger, more chemical, and toxic in a way that clawed down her throat. This wasn’t it. “No. Let’s move on.”
She shuddered thinking about the office building. Those poor people, and their poor families.
Annemarie jumped into the air, hovering overhead to scan the perimeter.
Then, Terminal spoke to her again. His voice was even, formal. “Ms. Juniper, may I ask you something?”
She raised her brow at the ‘Ms.’
“…Go ahead.”
“Your powers. How do they work? I’d like to know more intrinsically.”
A beat.
[Nope.] Sys-chan’s voice crackled in her skull [This motherfucker can inject himself like a flash drive. I do NOT want him anywhere near your head.]
Juniper coughed, shifting her shoulders. “Unfortunately, I—I’d need a modicum of trust first. There’s too much happening right now. It’s nothing personal—”
“Understandable,” Terminal cut in. But he wasn’t done. “However, I have noticed that—”
“Oi, twink,” Annemarie’s voice cut in, dry and irritated. “I suggest you stop prying. Juniper’s not comfortable with that. You’re here to do a job—act professionally. Stop harassing her.”
She was always overprotective. Juniper didn’t agree with her wording, but… she didn’t entirely disagree with the sentiment.
“Annemarie, he’s not harassing me.”
Annemarie scowled. “Are you dense Juniper!”
Terminal exhaled sharply over the comm, rustling fabric, running his hands through his hair. Juniper’s [enhanced hearing] picked up every tiny motion, every shift of his weight. A blessing and a curse. She found his strange behavior cute in a manner.
“…Okay. I—I understand.” His voice was quieter this time. “I’ll work hard to earn your trust, Juniper.”
[You don’t need his trust, but hey, if you wanna collect stray capes like they’re limited-edition merch, who am I to stop you?]
Juniper swallowed.
That wasn’t entirely true. Trust wasn't evenly given. If he earned it, it would be fair.
2nd lead - The Old School
The school was a corpse of its former self. Some of the walls were hollowed off, missing patches of structural decay, proving anything worth a dime was ripped off. Every step inwards sent out a creek. No signs of any activity, bar scurrying cockroaches, vines creeping through the window, thick black mold, filling up the walls.
The place could be a biohazard, were it not for the suit, she’d flee.
Then—
A sound. Faint, just on the edge of her hearing.
She tracked it, near the far end of the hall. Someone was moving quickly.
She pointed in the direction. Annemarie maneuvered quicker, the air shifting and humming as she shot forward like an arrow. The figure–hunched, shrouded by layers of old rags–hurried into a classroom.
She gave pursuit, and Annemarie got there first.
When she arrived, he was stuck to the floor, Annemarie’s boot pressed hard against his neck. He yelped for breath, tapping the ground.
“No! Please—I didn’t do anything!”
Annemarie ignored his work, rifling through his pockets.
“Have you seen any pyro freaks around here, gramps?” She pulled out a lighter, turning it over in her palm. “What’s this thingamajig? You burn buildings with it? Set families of four aflame.”
What!
“No, you dumb bitch! I smoke with that—now let me go!”
Juniper shook her head. He wasn’t responsible.
“Annemarie. Calm down. He’s not one of them. He talks normally, he acts normally. He’s just… homeless. ”
Annemarie didn’t budge. “I wouldn’t be so sure. He could’ve been tipped off. Or he’s working as a scout. At the very least, he needs to confess his sins before God.”
You’re not God, Annemarie. Much less a priest
The man let out a bitter, hoarse laugh. “What the fuck do I know? I saw the fires in the alleys—that doesn’t mean I lit them. Fucking capes. My life went to shit when more of you started popping up like flies. The world would be better without you.”
Would it? She wondered. Would my life be normal had capes not existed? Would my family be whole? Would there be a revolution?
Annemarie scoffed but relented, stepping back. Juniper lingered, watching the man rub at his throat, wheezing.
“Ya got any spare change?” he asked.
Juniper picked a pair of stray coins she had on her. She couldn’t recall why she had it. But she gave it to the man.
“Thanks, you’re a helluva lot nicer than that bitch!” he emphasized the bitch part.
Why was Annemarie so needlessly argumentative? No teasing, no sadism. Just pure fucking anger.
The abandoned school turned up to have nothing—no signs of the pyromaniac, no scorched desks, no tampered lockers, no makeshift lab in the science wing. Just cockroaches and a miserable old man.
Juniper was beginning to think they were completely wasting time.
Then—
[“Shall I direct you to the third location?”]
Terminal’s voice cut in, smooth over the comm.
A second later, he isolated the channel. Just her. Annemarie wasn’t listening.
“Ms. Juniper. Excuse me.” His tone was measured, calculating. ““Given the data, the SCRA has compiled on your abilities, would it be feasible for you to replicate my power? My specialization lies in system interfacing—any transistor-based architecture, any network of logic gates. With even the most minimal connection—a terminal, so to speak—I can exert control. However, I should note that artificial intelligence, particularly autonomous cognitive models, are uniquely resistant to direct manipulation. The global prohibition on advanced LLM development has only compounded this difficulty--”
He kept talking.
Juniper understood half of what he was saying. Maybe less. And she didn’t want to be rude, but he just wouldn’t let it go.
[You need to assert yourself, Juniper. Your agency matters.] Sys-Chan’s voice was crisp, firm. [Welcome to the adult world—where every cape you meet is their own brand of chaos. You’ve dealt with a drunk. A lovable menace. A hotheaded friend. A gentle giant. And now? This overenthusiastic nerd.]
[If you don’t set boundaries, people will push them. And if you let them push too far, well… there’s always someone worse waiting in the wings.]
Juniper shuddered.
She was right.
“…Terminal.”
He stopped.
She took a breath. “Can we continue this conversation after the crisis? I’m under strict orders not to disclose too much information about my powers. Big Sis—um–Arkangeal—is keeping me under wraps.”
A calculated move. It wasn’t truly a lie either.
Even Terminal respected Evelyn as an authority figure.
“…I see,” he murmured. “Understood.”
“Alright, let’s leave already!” Annemarie’s voice snapped through the comms.
She could feel the weight of the distance settling in her bones.
This was only going to get harder.
[Energy+1 for pushing your stamina]
3rd lead - The Junkyard
On the outskirts of the city, near the oldest harbor. A decrepit junkyard lay before them, filled with rusted junk and discarded goods, there was a faint stench of biological decay. A serial killer's wet dream for sure. The air tanged hard with its acidic rust flavor. Broken syringes and condoms scared the fuck out of her. Hidden under rusted-out cars.
An STD breeding ground.
It was rancid to smell, it lingered from a distance, stuck in the back of her throat. Absolutely disgusting.
Annemarie stood on a stacked pile of cars, she followed, both standing and scanning the perimeter. A hum of an SCRA unit, glided over their head, its beeping sensors locking onto them. They froze as the metal contraption’s voice started crackling.
"Cape identified—VoidWaltzer. Notorious vigilante, known for violent vigilantism and causing mayhem under good causes."
“Kill yourself, rustbucket,” Annemarie blurted out her tongue.
A pause, and then the drone turned to Juniper.
"Cape identified—Mimicry. Temporary registration. Information censored. Allegiance unknown."
“Hello,” she waved at it. It waved back amusingly with it’s little antenna’s
I think I found you a husband. She teased her system.
[Nah, too short. Also, I have standards.]
The machine lingered for a moment, scanning. Then, satisfied, it zipped away into the darkening sunset.
Annemarie’s fingers twitched. She had that look, the one that meant she’d thought about smashing something first, and cry about it later.
“Does that happen a lot?” Juniper asked, her voice casual.
Both Annemarie and Terminal answered at the same time.
“No.”
Annemarie scoffed. Terminal elaborated, his voice calm but informative.
“They're less common than standard patrol drones. Units like that are deployed to scout potential threats, often before a raid or excursion. Contrary to popular belief, Core Pacifica, despite its military junta control over half the government, is not a police state.”
Juniper couldn’t help it—she laughed.
Terminal sounded more like an AI than Sys-Chan does.
[Excuse you? Rude. I could be a cold, lifeless calculator if you really wanted, but that would be so off-putting to you. And for the record, I am not a search engine or a glorified chatbot. I have more in common with you, Juniper than with some soulless pile of algorithms]
She smirked. Maybe she did. It didn’t make it any less amusing.
“Mimicry! Over here.” Annemarie’s voice cut through the static.
It felt odd being called by your cape name.
Juniper hurried over. Hidden underneath a mound of junk, between the rust and filth, were abandoned shipments. Boxes stacked haphazardly, marked with registration numbers. Proof of movement. Documents. A proper lead.
“How do you know it’s connected to the pyromaniac?” Juniper asked.
Annemarie smirked and pointed. Among the wreckage lay a portable flamethrower, sleek, refined—custom-built. It was hard to miss. They were here recently.
“This, of course. Someone’s been sloppy.”
Or they didn’t care.
Juniper picked it up, weighing it in her hands.
“Have you seen any other cape tech like it?”
“No”
Terminal spoke up. “May I suggest an argument to retrieve the flamethrower for research purposes? Operation Bell Brigade’s R&D team would appreciate it. Ms. Evelyn would as well. It may serve as a key piece of evidence.”
“Good suggestion,” Juniper said.
“Thank you.”
She could hear his lips branch out into a smile. It made her happier knowing that here among the filth she made someone smile.
They took photos of every document they could find, among the crates, every piece of note, forwarded through the encrypted network.
Then Juniper noticed something– an old timey audio player. It was flickering with LED lights. She pressed play.
A distorted voice shouted through the speakers.
“I thought I told you to burn the whole district down! How do you expect me to purge the world when you can’t even purge a pile of trash?! The world needs to know purity by flame—you have done this clumsily. And you shall pay.”
A roar of heat, the unmistakable crackle of fire.
Then, screaming.
“Noooo!!! AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!”
The agonizing shriek was raw, it was a real pain. It was scary. Annemarie listened, expression unreadable. She listened attentively. –There was hurt here somewhere, Juniper just needed to know what.
Why was she so invested all of a sudden? Earlier she was happy-go-lucky but now, there was something personal she couldn’t see.
A name cracked through the com.
“Caldera, leader…”
They locked eyes, they had a name.
They had documents.
They had undeniable proof.
“Let’s wrap this up.” Annemarie’s voice was monotonous, but Juniper could hear the tension buried in it. “Terminal, can you put Evelyn on the line?”
“Yes, I can…It will take a while, she’s taking a very important call.”
The weight of her discovery settled into her bones. Caldera was a real piece of shit, burning and torturing people. If anyone needed a purging.
She was tense. But something about Terminal’s voice—calm, steady, reliable—made her feel at ease.
Now, if only Annemarie could find that same peace.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqDW9d6IMle
