Juniper flew after Emery into Garnet District. The chaos there was subdued, less wildfire more controlled burn–but it didn’t make it easier to watch.
Below, the street buzzed with noise: people were shouting orders, wooden construction beams scraped across the ground, the humming of large trucks unloading cargo. Sweat, dust, and the sting of antiseptic hung in the air, smothering her throat. It was tolerable—just barely.
Everywhere she looked, someone was moving. People were carried on stretchers moaning as they were taken into makeshift medical tents, their crying blending into the background. The rumbling trucks loomed like leviathans before taking off.
The setup was similar enough, similar to something she’d rather not recall. Memories nipped at her, and she wanted them gone.
They landed, the crowd surrounding them. Juniper stiffened as the people brushed past her, barely glancing where they were walking, urgency was key here. Emery seemed unfazed, striding with purpose, leaving Juniper crawling behind.
She took the scene in, overwhelmed by its rawness. A child sobbed inconsolably, kicking at the empty air as they wailed about a lost toy. An elderly man sat hunched inside the charred remains of what must have been his store, staring at nothing at all, his face tired. A nearby volunteer, slumped against the wall, crates next to them, sobbing hard. Juniper didn’t dare interrupt.
“Emery,” Juniper said softly. “Not to sound inconsiderate, but... should we even be here? We have powers. Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, stopping villains or something?”
“You? No. Me? Yes.” Emery glanced at her, expression dubious... “Every cape in the city is on alert. Even the criminals. Paragon HQ wants us to focus on civilian aid to minimize cape overlap. It’s not total war, Juniper—just another seasonal crisis.”
A “crisis” that people were dying in.
“I just think—”
“Think all you want, Juniper,” Emery cut her off, her tone brash. “Truth is this is a game to the suits that sit on those tall towers you look up to every day. A little PR stunt to keep everyone happy. Welcome to my life. It doesn’t get better than this.”
Her words were like a slap to the face, cold hard, and dismissive. Juniper gritted her teeth, irritation sparked deep. They could be pulling out more people from the ruins and the wreckages, hunting the maniacs to extinction. Instead, they were stuck here. Playing civilian support.
And…it looked like bullshit was already starting. Flashing cameras popped up in the distance, and a few people openly recorded the camp, pointing their lenses at everything like it was some avant-garde movie set. She was glad the mask shielded her face.
They had barely made it to a tent before someone shouted for help.
“Heliogirl–please we could use some help!” A volunteer shouted, pointing them to a supply of boxes, stacked up. Easily a hundred. “We need these unloaded and distributed.”
Juniper hid her frustration, following Emery towards the crates. The work was incredibly expensive for her energy, and despite being mundane, she was totally out of depth. She fumbled: stacking water jugs, and moving a fire hose, the boxes dropping something heavy. Her awkwardness was visible to everyone.
“Hey, Capegirl! Watch it!” a volunteer called out, tone aggressive.
Sweat crept down her neck as she forced an apology. She just wasn’t used to weights, sweat, and the pulling of muscle work. It wasn't heroic or feminine, people around seemed to move around it with ease. She didn’t fit, like a cog in the wrong machine.
She stared at her ‘partner’ in crime. Emery moved with the efficiency of cold fusion, her expression locked in place. Emery was in her element, even if Juniper hated it.
Being here felt wrong. Not in the usual “villainous monster attacked her” kind of way. But the psychological fight that was born in the moment. Her bones felt weak, disoriented, and useless. Even compared to past excursions, this camp didn’t sit right with her.
Though she knew that work here mattered. The camps were an important infrastructural ability. Meant to minimize the scale of the damage and ease emergency services work. Yet, deep down it felt like a facade, polish slapped white shoe, then calling the shoe black.
As she handed a water bottle to a woman slumped against a tent pole, she couldn’t help but wonder:
What the hell am I doing here?
She had powers—real powers. And she wanted to use them instead of stacking crates and planting tent poles. Would Emery be mad if she left her? Could she just walk away? Mind slipping into the fire, the heat, the panic. The people she’d pull from the fire.
She could be doing more of that, yet here she was.
If a ‘hero’ was relegated to a social program then she wanted no part of it.
A man nearby emerged like a ghost. Eyes locked on the sun girl, he started snapping pictures of her with pinpoint precision. And not with a phone camera but an actual DSLR, straight out of the early 2000s. Juniper looked away quickly, her head pounding as she edged backward. She couldn’t afford to keep being caught on camera.
“Hey! You!”
Juniper froze.
The journalist jogged toward her, camera in his hands. “Grant Harker with the Pacifica Sun! Are you with Heliogirl? Can I ask you some—”
Her mind scrambled for a response, but all she managed was a weak stammer. “Uh, I-I no, I’m sorry, I’m—”
[Juniper, you idiot. That was your fifteen seconds of fame. Do you know how many people would kill for that?]
She ignored Sys-chan, she wasn't like most people. Her heart felt as if it wanted to pop out and drop on the floor.
“Leave me alone,” she uttered, cringing at how awkward she sounded.
She left without another word, turning and fleeing, pretending to be busy. The Journalist hesitated, then turned his attention to Emery, who was engaged in a conversation with civilians.
She exhaled shakily, the tension in her chest.
Big Yikes. A firm reminder to stick to the shadows.
[Well, too bad. You can’t just crawl back to your little NEET cave now, can you?]
No
She watched Emery from a distance. Her demeanor was stark. Emery was used to this, her posture radiated, the same feeling she felt from authority figures, safety and command.
And she wanted no part of it. She didn’t want to fake things, hide her real hair, or pose for a camera, it wasn’t her.
She slipped away next to a construction crew, watching as they dismantled the charred remains of a corner shop. The smell of ash and wood lingered, but as she got closer, something else. Perked in her nose.
Sweet and meaty.
She turned her head, searching for the source of origin. There at the edge of the camp, stood something she didn’t expect.
Charcoaled smoke mingled with meat sizzling in the shade, sharp, savory, sweet. It was not what she expected from a relief camp, Her eyes locked straight at the source: a grilling station.
A lone woman stood at the helm, dark-skinned and broad-shouldered, hair tucked beneath a bandana. She wasn’t fat or burly, yet there was a sturdiness about her–someone you respected when in her presence. She moved with practiced rigor, managing a line of workers and victims alike.
Juniper kept watching. This may just be the one place she could help. The kitchen wasn’t out of her expertise entirely.
She ‘smited’ her own shyness, stepping forward, edging past the line. Whispers started but no one bothered her, probably because she was a cape.
“Excuse me,” she said, voice so soft it barely carried across.
The woman looked up, her sharp eyes narrowing. “This is an emergency station. We don’t serve capes here.”
Juniper blinked. “No, uh—I don’t want food. I want to help.” Her face burned with embarrassment.
The woman frowned, leaning closer and cupping her ear. “What?”
Juniper leaned in too, repeating, “I want to help.” Her voice cracked slightly.
The woman’s expression shifted, skeptical yet curious. “You can cook?”
Juniper hesitated. “I, uh… I know how ‘not’ to cook. If that counts?”
A short laugh escaped the woman, deep and warm. “Okay. Fine. Get on those grillers, but no cape magic, you hear me? I want burgers, not atomized ash.”
Juniper smiled, beneath the woman’s gruff exterior lay a gentle heart.
[+1 CHA for stepping outside your comfort zone.]
Really? Now?
[Progress is progress. Some people never even learn how to use a toothbrush. Perspective is key, Jun.]
What! You're not my life coach?
[Only the best advice for my baby girl]
Juniper sighed, stepping up to the grill. “Let me cook in peace,” she whispered under her breath. Half to herself, half to the system.
At first, it was a disaster, she fucked up. A slab of meat fell through her tongs, hitting the ground with a splat. She picked it, setting it aside, vowing not to waste it. Earning herself a raised brow from her boss.
“Five-second rule,” She mumbled sheepishly.
[Oh, Lady Mimicry, reduced to a burger flipper. Truly a job worthy of her talents.]
She pressed on. She wasn’t ashamed, proud even being able to assist. Eyes focused on the task in front of her. The meat sizzling on the grill, a smoke trail that stung her eyes, her rhythm in sync with the time, flipping above the hot coals.
Her movement was quick and confident. She even held together small snippets of conversation seamlessly with the passersby. Though it was surface level, she felt connected for once.
[+1 REFLEX for attempting your first service job.]
Her system could be really weird.
[New title unlocked: Grill Master.]
You’re ridiculous, she thought, fighting back a laugh.
Yet her body spoke a different tune, it was not ridiculous she was evolving, changing.
“Hey, are you doing okay?” The woman, Maria, Juniper thought her name was, spoke up, her tone almost sisterly ...
Juniper nodded, though her head started hanging lower. “Yeah. Just… not used to this kind of work. But I’m happy to help.”
Maria chuckled. “You’re new to this, huh?”
Juniper hesitated, then nodded.
Maria’s gaze softened. “If you’re worried about what’s going on here, don’t be. Sometimes feeding people is the best hero work there is.”
Juniper tilted her head, listening intently.
“How do you keep an army marching from Berlin to Moscow?” Maria asked suddenly, a playful glint in her eye.
Juniper frowned, thinking hard. “Uh… good equipment? Good morale? Vehicles?”
Maria laughed, a deep, hearty sound. “Close but no, logistics, kid. Warm bellies, rest, and recuperation. Keep those things in check, and you can keep people moving through just about anything.”
Juniper nodded slowly, letting the words ingrain. There was wisdom in listening, this was—a lesson she hadn’t realized she needed.
What were her logistics, what did she need right now besides rest? Besides the obvious and the emotional. Direction perhaps?
“You know,” Maria added, her tone leveled, “you look like you’ve seen some shit today. Is this your first time out?”
Juniper shook her head. “Second. Second time out, second time landing in deep shit.” She offered a faint smile.
Maria smiled back. “Well, keep your chin up, Ms…?”
“M-Mimicry. My cape name. Mimicry.”
For some reason, saying it out loud made her feel lighter. It was like she’d let go of some small, invisible weight.
“Ju-Mimicry!”
She turned to see Emery/Heliogirl—calling out to her, her voice cutting through the noise of a camp like a microphone.
Juniper snapped her head. Emery hurried in her direction, striding with pride. A lit fire in her eyes burned on.
“I’ve got to go,” Emery said, her words coming out sharp. “Paragon business. Can’t disclose.” She jabbed a finger toward Juniper. “If anything happens that you can’t handle—retreat. Do not play the hero.”
Juniper blinked, her body recoiled like she’d been struck. “Wait, you dragged me into this, and now you’re just—what? Leaving me? What happened to ‘keeping an eye on me,’ huh?”
Maria, glanced up from the grill, her eyes flickering between the two women like she was watching a bomb about to detonate.
Emery’s face hardened. “I have to go, Juniper. This isn’t a debate.” She paused, as if trying to steady herself, then added, “If you’re looking for something to do, go to Paragon HQ. They’ll brief you on the situation.”
The words that hit Juniper were like another slap. Paragon HQ? Seriously? Did Emery forget she’d practically sworn herself into the OBB?
“I’m not going there,” Juniper said firmly, shaking her head. “How about I just—come with you?”
“No.” Emery’s tone was… final. “You can’t, Juniper. You don’t have the experience for this. You could die. I’ve been doing this for years. Stay here. Get something else to do.”
“But—”
“No means no!” Emery cut her off. “Stay out of trouble!”
Juniper flinched as Emery's feet hovered off the ground, ascending with her golden grace. She hovered for a moment, still. Darting at Juniper, like she expected her to follow like a disoriented child.. Then with a woosh, she zipped away, into the skyline.
Juniper stood there, watching her trail away, fists tight, her nails digging into her arms. Emer’s words lingered, bitter and sharp. She went from nice to bitchy and vice versa. She could have been nicer permanently. Why was she so dismissive, and controlling?
[“Aww, is the poor baby’s feelings hurt?”]
Juniper let out a slow breath. Maybe a little.
[“Keep your head up, Junny.”]
A voice behind her nearly made her jump up. “Go.”
Maria stood behind, expression at ease, hands adjusting her apron. “You don’t want to be stuck here, kid. So what if you can’t follow her? Go do something else. Go be a big damn hero.”
The words hit like juniper like revelation and worked like the validation she craved. Her chest felt a bit lighter, the noose loosening just a bit. She nodded, curving her faint smile into a wider one. “Thanks, Maria.”
“You’re welcome, kid.” Maria turned back to the grill, waving her off with a spatula.
Juniper skittered away, weaving through the camp as she passed the SCRA guards stationed at the perimeter. These ones were armored, carrying visors and assault rifles in their hand, they eyed her.
“Don’t make a ruckus, newbie,” one of them muttered, his hand resting on his weapon as he gave her a wary look.
She met his eyes for a moment, then looked away. Her introversion crept back inside like an old friend. The social energy she exerted, doubling back, weighing heavy.
There. Emery had come and gone, and she was still in this damn crisis if only Evelyn picked up the damn phone.
She pulled her phone out, reception was trash, probably because of the chaos. Her finger hummed and skimmed across texts.
12:57 PM: Kanako was here.
12:57 PM: Chose not to go with her.
12:58 PM: She looks spooked.
12:59 PM: Did you spill the beans?
1:01 PM: School called. Automated message. Effy should be fine. Police perimeter between and around all schools. Capes patrolling.
1:03 PM: Are you okay?
Her heart settled on the second last text. Effy was safe. One less thing to worry about. Kanako being spooked was understandable, but she couldn’t worry about it.
She sent Remy a thumbs-up Emoji, hoping it would suffice as “yes, I’m okay.” Ignoring everything else.
Shoving the phone away again, she drifted off the ground, body rising into the air, slow and with the verisimilitude of actually flying. She hovered, moving away from the camp, the noise faded away.
The city a maze of chaos stretches before her.
[“So, what’s the plan, Lady Mimicry?”]
Juniper exhaled. Nervousness, her chest heavy. Figure it out as I go.
[“Good girl.”]6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9z1KwziYip
