Being driven around in a buggy made Juniper feel hyper-conscious of herself. It wasn’t its wacky suspension or the fact that every bump nearly sent them hurtling–it was the fact that the civilian populace were driving normal cars, and yet she was stuck in this thing. Out In public.
Of course, she wasn’t ungrateful, having to fly here would be painful. However, it was a good thing they were driving outside the inner city. She didn’t want to be caught on someone’s camera in this thing.
The buggy smelled like oxidized iron, and gasoline, the exhaust fumes lingered in the back of her throat, barely tolerable but ever-present. She shifted in the backseat, uncomfortable, being stuck in this suit half a day. Sweat and brimstone.
Francesca, hyper-casual and super friendly, reached into an isolated cooler in the back compartment and shoved a cold can of some obscure drink in Juniper’s hand. The condensing liquid slid down her fingers.
“Try it. It’s an import,” Francesca said with a warm grin.
Juniper turned the can in her hand, trying to make sense of the brand name–some energy drink from Japan filled with a neon, futuristic logo. She took a hesitant sip. It was very sweet, aggressively so, like gassed-up liquid candy with a lab-made fruit she was sure didn’t exist in nature.
She took another chip, then another. Then it became addicting, she started chugging.
The ungodly amount of sugar, and mystery chemicals, hit her system like an airliner crashing into a skyscraper. She pressed the cold can across her heated body. Onto her face, her neck, and her chest. She let it sting. Her skin flushing reddish in response.
John drove with one hand, the other scratching his messy beard, there were what looked like food stains on it. His helmet was off now, and in all honesty, it made him look like less of a mall ninja, you see skulking around looking for strange trinkets at 10 AM. His expression was tight, completely irritated, like he had 1000 thousand things to do, once this was over.
Terminal and Annemarie had stayed behind with Evelyn. The same Evelyn, who, despite everything, had been strangely lenient up to now. In a few days, she’d have to attend a debriefing, as she was partly responsible for stopping the crisis. A gathering of god-knew-how-many capes in a single cramped hallway, and they would be scrutinizing her.
[Can you imagine the chaos? A hundred capes jammed together like sardines. It’s like a hydrogen bomb waiting to go off. (? ? ??) BOOM]
I’d rather not. I’ve done enough imagination for a day.
Francesca, leaned back against her seat, watching the city lights pass by under the open-frame windows of the buggy. Neon danced with the shadows. Juniper watched her expressions.
“Can I ask a question?” Juniper’s voice came out more hesitant than she wanted. These people were still strangers to her, no matter what they claimed, or how much they expressed their concerns. “Those soldiers… they called Miss Evelyn ‘Commander.’”
John tensed and exhaled through his nose. “It’s a long story. Once, you should probably hear from her. But before Operation Bell Brigade existed, there was Operation Black Brigade. It was military. That’s all I can say without opening a can of messy worms.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. So, Evelyn was some kind of military commander before this. How did she end up knee-deep in cape nonsense? She also sought Juniper out.
[Can the cynicism, Jun. You’re hurting yourself.]
She shifted again, loosening the tight seatbelt. Her body brimmed with ache, muscles stiff, her skin stinging from healing mid-work. [Regeneration]
The adrenaline had started completely fading, leaving her like a wrecked potato, thrown in a pot, and steam rolled.
“You know…” John spoke up again, coughing. “You can’t go home in that suit. Especially not unmasked. You’ll stand out. Get spotted, get doxxed.”
“Huh?” Juniper shot him a wary glance. “Wait. You expect me to strip? Right here? In the car?”
John groaned. “That is what I said.”
“Sounds like what you said,” Francesca smirked, chin propped on her hand. “You just want to see her strip, don’t you, you greasy old man?”
John, predictably, scowled, gripping the wheel tighter. “I was thinking about civilian exposure, .”
Francesca laughed, entirely unbothered, and turned to Juniper. “Don’t worry. John’s a gentleman. He won’t peek. We always keep spare clothes in the vehicles for situations like this. Now hurry up before he combusts from sheer awkwardness.”
Nervous, but eager to be rid of the suit, she nodded.
Juniper took the offered tracksuit handed to her. The fabric was cheap, but scratchy and smelled like laundry detergent and plastic packaging.
[Ooh, that’s a lot of skin you’re showing in front of two strangers. Careful—make a habit of it, and you might start enjoying the whole ‘changing on the go’ thing.]
Juniper flushed, giving Francesca small peeks, who was keeping an eye on John while simultaneously staring Juniper down. She probably had no idea how Juniper felt about women, there had been a brief flirty encounter during their last meeting but nothing serious, just pure banter.
Or was that just Juniper’s brain racking up dust? Did she have a problem, thinking most women who were nice to her, were gay for her?
She yanked the tracksuit pants on, pulling the hoodie over her head. “Issue solved?” she muttered.
“Not quite.” Francesca playfully covered John’s eyes with both hands.
“Hey! I’m here!”
“Nuh-uh.” she teased him.
Juniper cut in before their back-and-forth could spiral. “The suit—can I take it home? It’s a friend’s.”
“Nope,” John shook his head. “I’d advise against it, you don’t want to be seen carrying a burned suit around right now, would you? And don’t worry—we’ll take it to R&D, patch it up, and then you can decide what to do with it.”
She exhaled, finishing off the last sip of her drink. The cold bubbled in her stomach, but did not make her feel good. She was still numb, floating somewhere in a distant universe. She stayed conscious only because she needed to get home really quick.
The pavement was the other option. Dive out the car, and plant herself there for a while. Enjoy the feeling of a cold rough sidewalk, it wouldn’t expect much from her, nor would it reject her.
Without warning, whilst her guard is off. She was yanked away from her seat, Francesca pulled her close, arms wrapped around her, giving her an unobtrusive hug. She stiffened. Was Francesca the designated hugger of OBB or something? She seemed like the type. Too caring. Too warm. Too cuddly.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Juniper didn’t need more ‘sisters’, and yet she didn’t pull away, staying in her embrace.
“You okay, Juniper?” The now small giantess's voice was soft, just above a whisper.
She stayed still, then she realized she was shaking–not from the cold, but from everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. The fighting. The blood. The dread. The fear. The dead.Some part of her wanted to say no, but…
“I was ready to kill him,” she murmured, shaky. Her voice sounded distant to her ears like she wasn’t the one speaking.
“I thought—”
The words caught in her throat and refused to come out.
John, still focused on the road, turned his head to her. “It doesn’t get easier,” he said, quiet but firm. “And it’s going to get a lot more dangerous.” He paused as if weighing his words. “But you’ve gotten stronger. And you’ve got people willing to look out for you. You might not believe it yet, but we’ll be here for you if you need us.”
She didn’t say anything. Just stayed in that spot, pressed against Francesca, who seemed perfectly content. They went under an overpass, the buggy’s headlights illuminating black tar. Overhead peering down and from a bridge a group of capes hovered across the bridge, watching them pass.
John lifted his hand and flipped his middle finger at them. The capes stared at him, antagonized, their arms crossed. It wasn’t worth it, they flew away into the city. Francesca grinned and waved after them like they were old friends.
“Who were they?” Juniper asked, voice still a little hoarse.
“Just some SIOC dickheads, looking for trouble,” Francesca said breezily. “They do that from time to time.”
Juniper’s mind settled on Renegade, the obnoxious super drunk, but she didn’t say anything. John replied “Don’t know’em personally. Too many asshats to keep track of. Say what you want about our methods, at least we do our jobs.”
, right? She kept forgetting. These weren’t heroes. Though they acted like it. They weren’t bound by the same rules. They did what needed to be done, occasionally, whether the law liked it or not. And John—John was a trained killer. A known assassin. She wondered what his powers were beyond being a cybernetic killing machine.
It should’ve scared her more than it did. Francesca smirked, nudging her lightly. “Worst day ever, right?”
Juniper pressed her fingers to her temples. Her head felt hot. Maybe she was working up a fever, or maybe it was something worse.
“I guess so.”
The city shifted around them. The towering glow of neon of the districts dimmed away, fading into sidewalks cracked and in need of repair. The traffic had all but disappeared. Petal pass- or district 76.
Home.
The buildings lowered themselves, windows darker, and storefronts were often shuttered closed, or abandoned. The few cars on the road made sure to steer well away from the buggy. The people in this neighborhood knew when to duck and cover, it hadn’t seen a good few years in a long time.
The buggy came to a grinding stop. Skidding awkwardly, Juniper bounced in the backseat, unclipping her seatbelt.
“Here’s fine, right?” John asked.
Juniper nodded. “Yeah.”
Francesca finally let her go, smiling. “Have a good night, Juniper.”
“Y-You too, John, Francesca.”
They waved her off, as she stepped off, the buggy did a U-turn and sped away like a speedster. Sending dust and tarbits into the air. Leaving her standing alone on a block away from home.
Well.
Sort of.
She started walking.
No fire had reached her neighborhood. No burnt-out buildings, no sirens, no acidic smoke poisoning the air. Here she was on her familiar cracked streets, near unmaintained streetlights, untouched by chaos.
She walked onwards, letting her fingers grind against the fences and walls, next to the sidewalk. The air was quieter now. Calmer. The distant hums of late-night commutes are gone. The apartment complex drew nearer, unchanged over the years, like an awkward and poorly constructed puzzle.
Every step forward, her tracksuit rustled in the wind–a cheap, and stiff fabric which didn’t quite fit her.
[You’re gonna need to invest in a wardrobe soon. And not just the cape kind—you’ve already lost two outfits to cape fights.]
“Yeah,” she muttered. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to her own head. “It feel good to be out of that suit, though. I think I need a nice warm shower.”
[A shower, and maybe something stronger than regret in your cup afterward. Coffee. Tea. Something that doesn’t taste like burnt gasoline and burnt plastic…]
“You don’t have a tongue…”
[Buuutt… I get little slivers of sensory information from your neurons and synapses. So I know what you do with your tongue, and your hands, even when you sleep. ]
“Okay… Okay… Creepy much.” she said, rubbing her face.
[Would it help if I promised not to judge?]
“Honestly no,”
Stopping in front of the smaller gate, she instinctively reached for her phone, muscle memory.
“Huh…oh,”
She remembered-both her phones were broken. Both hers and Annemarie’s. Whether she had broken Annemarie’s work or personal phone, she had no idea. In any case, she owed her more than that.
She stepped forward, letting the scanner read her face. The gate unlocked with a click and then let out a metallic groan.
She barely made it inside, before a familiar voice stopped her.
“Juniper Pinewell, late again.”
She closed her eyes, already regretting entering at this time. Perhaps she could still turn back?
Ms. Louise, the nosey landlord, lurked beyond the gate. Standing in a nightgown and some slippers. It seemed she had nothing else to but to watch tenants for slip ups.
“Where’d you run off to this time?” Louise sniffed. “Out clubbing? Seeing more strange men again?”
Juniper forced a smile, even managed a small, breathy giggle. Actually, she did, bar the fact that she was just held at gunpoint by a strange man.
“Ah, not at all…”
Louise didn’t look convinced. Instead, she changed the subject. “You know, there’s been an exorbitant number of delivery drivers showing up here. All for your apartment floor. That little sister of yours kept running out to grab boxes.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you win the lottery or something?”
Juniper nearly choked on nothing.
Effy.
Had she seriously gotten a hold of Remy’s bank account? Was she ordering excessive amounts of stuff? Juniper was to have to talk with her brother. The money was nice, and she was going to be making even more soon, but she wasn’t about to let Effy go wild with it.
“No, Ms. Louise,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I just got a job.”
Louise squinted, skeptical. “In that?”
Juniper glanced down at herself. The tracksuit. Cheap, wrinkled, informal.
“Uh… oh no,” she backtracked quickly. “Late-night function. We did a little marathon. A Team-building exercise.” She gestured vaguely. “They said it was good for work morale.”
Ms. Louise raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
Juniper kept pushing through the lie. “The HR department made us do it since the office was, uh… unavailable, you know, because of the fires.” She clapped her hands together. “It was… .”
She said it. Knowing full well she had just traded blows with a psychopathic cult leader, if that is even what he was. Got burned, nearly had her arms broken, and probably busted a shin or two.
The fire. The screams. The bodies.
She wanted to stop thinking about it.
“Office worker, huh?” Louise still didn’t seem convinced, but her tone softened. “Well, you haven’t come by to try my remedies.”
“I got isotropic ginseng imported from a place called Churnabell, It’s from the Russian republic I think.”
[]
Juniper nearly grunted, but stifled a laugh. Not much, but some. “Maybe some other time.” She politely bowed her head, and clasped her hands together. “I really have to got now.”
The woman protested, but Juniper was gone.
She fled, bolting up the stairs before Louise could pitch her another experimental tea. She gives it a year before Louise gets arrested for manufacturing illegal substances. Best steer far away.
Her footsteps felt heavier with every step. The elevator was an option, but she felt like if she stood still for too long, she’d lurch again.
When she reached her floor, she stopped in front of her door. Voices were loud and expressive. Inside, they were arguing. No—bickering. She let out a slow breath.
They were safe.
Sure, She, Effy, and Remy fought like rabid animals over stupid things, but if it wasn’t her anchor. The noise, the warmth, the alive-ness of it all.
Her fingers found the doorknob. Then hesitated.
Instead, she turned and walked a few steps down the hall, stopping in front of Kanako’s door.
There was a chance she was back. A small one rather. Their day had been ruined, she’d like to make up for it. She did just lose her expensive car, though, she wouldn’t be surprised if it more than soured her mood.
She knocked. Once. Then again.
Her chest tightened. She hesitated, hand hovering for a third knock.
Maybe she should leave a note. But she didn’t have any paper on her. Juniper might not be here in the morning. And with her phone broken. No phone to message her. Kanako didn’t even keep social media.
It felt like she was being punished again. Just for existing.
They were just supposed to be shopping. Why didn’t Juniper just run when she had the chance? If she had, Kanako wouldn’t have been dragged into this. She felt responsible, in a way, she should’ve done more to warn her, perhaps going as far as staying inside all day.
[What about those people, Juniper?]
“What people?”
[If you hadn’t run into that building—if you hadn’t saved that agent from that brute, or carried that girl to the hospital—how many more would’ve died? You’re a hero. You threw yourself into the fire. And you came out stronger for it.]
Yes. It was true. And it still felt unfair.
She couldn’t get what she wanted, right now, she wanted someone like Kanako close to her. She let her hand drop, stepping away from Kanako’s door. She wanted to be pissed. She wanted to not care. So she let her feelings dwell.
But even that felt exhausting. With a slow breath, she turned back to her apartment.
The moment she opened the door, warmth rushed over her. The glow of the lights, the mess of voices, the comforting clutter of a home that was still .
She stepped inside. Juniper wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She couldn’t lose them.
What would you guys like to see more off, I'm in a intermission period before the next big arc
