Juniper drove into what her boss had ominously dubbed the “Special Autonomous District.” It was the zone surrounding Matriarch Base, which lurked beneath the ground, sprawling outward from the outskirts of Core Pacifica. She hadn’t asked too many questions before, but now the place was scratching at the back of her mind.

  Everything about driving here unnerved her. It was clearly a staged set—a manufactured ghost town spanning thousands of hectares, filled with silent, empty houses. Plastic life. Everything was hyper-polished, with an outlandish sheen that made it look like something out of a cartoon.

  The roads here were smoother and better maintained than those in the heart of the city—an embarrassment, to say the least. The architecture was deliberately designed as a soulless replica of a vintage 1950s aesthetic—too perfectly uniform in some places. This place didn’t seem to age. Nothing did.

  All it lacked were nuclear families strolling the streets.

  Speaking of people, a man stood in one of the “yards,” watering what looked like lifeless plants—probably plastic. A bird zipped over his head, its claws scraping against his scalp. He barely flinched, refusing to acknowledge the nuisance.

  He gave her a passing smile. She looked away immediately.

  Creepy. But she was probably overthinking it. The whole town setup was likely just a cover for the Matriarch Base or had some strategic value. Evelyn’s assistants had to be working here.

  She stopped at a lonely checkpoint, planting her foot down. Fatigue shot through her leg, all the way up to her thigh—she wasn’t used to riding long distances. Not yet, anyway, and her scooter might not be suited for it.

  The gatekeeper slouched against the security booth, barely glancing up at her. His eyes were locked on the television—a sports game, probably one of the new gimmick leagues, jetpack baseball. His arms were folded, and when he finally noticed her, he stretched his mouth into a nasty yawn. Kicking his feet back lazily, he doubled down on his slouching.

  

  His eyes finally decided he’d seen enough balls and turned to her.

  “Do I have to spell it out for you? Clearance pass or no entry.” His tone was mild, but the irritation bled through.

  Juniper blinked. “S-Sir, I don’t understand. You let me in last week without a pass.”

  He snapped his fingers and leaned forward. “You came with the boss. That may as well be a clearance card. I don’t care if you’re the fucking director of the S-C-R-fucking-A—no one gets in without proper clearance.”

  “O-okay, man, uhh, c-clam down,” she stammered.

  His face twisted, contorting, and his nose nearly grew as he leaned over the glass counter. “Clam down!?”

  “I meant calm down! Okay? Sorry.”

  She swung herself off the scooter and clicked a small switch near the seat. It lifted with a mechanical hiss, revealing a compartment underneath—papers, cash, and some emergency supplies she’d stuffed in “just in case.”

  Her fingers combed through the mess, her pulse ticking up.

  She didn’t want to turn back now—not for something this stupid.

  The guard shifted. “What—?”

  An electric buzz crackled from his computer, overriding his monitors.

  “Mimicry?” A familiar voice crackled from the speaker. Terminal. “She’s clear. Let her through.”

  The guard clicked his tongue. “Get out of my damn computer! You fucking capes are going to get me in trouble.”

  But he obeyed anyway, slamming a button that sent the heavy metal gates groaning apart. As they peeled open, revealing the hollow streets beyond, he shot her a scowl.

  “Bring your damn card next time. Makes my job easier.”

  “Okay.” Juniper exhaled. “Good day, sir.”

  [Or don’t bring it. Make his job a waking nightmare. Make him question reality. Make him spiral into existential dread every time he sees your face. Reduce him to a husk, whispering ‘clearance pass’ in his sleep, waking in wet trousers.]

  [C’mon, a little spice in life! What’s the point of power if you don’t use it to torment the weak-willed security workforce? Stack up on those Antihero points.]

  I just want to go inside.

  [Ugh. You’re no fun.]

  Juniper kicked into gear again, deeper into the Special Autonomous District. A downward slope lay ahead, cutting through mountain rock. She led herself gently down the cliffside. From the outside, the place had the charm of a military facility. On the inside, the scent of cold metal and sterilized air clung heavily. Sterilized air implied controlled airflow, which meant biohazard labs and such. The sound of metalwork told her that somewhere in the base, there was either maintenance or construction.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The place was meant to be unwelcoming.

  The last time she had been here was very brief. The base had been moved out, emptied. Now, it was a completely different scene. Men and women clad in black suits and skirts patrolled the outer buildings, clutching tablets and portable devices—anything that screamed spook or government work—without a proper understanding of what they did.

  They couldn’t be simple assistants if they were all doing administrative work, and there were hardly any armed guards covering entryways. They were surprisingly lax.

  [Operation Black Brigade. The former name, Not Bell. That’s what that John fellow called it, ] [I’m willing to bet she’s running something a little more exciting than a glorified costume party for superfreaks.]

  “Like what? Some off-the-map black ops observation unit?”

  [Probably not. They wouldn’t be in skirts and suits if they were classified individuals. Notice there’s not a single SCRA patrol here. Your boss is hiding some serious shit. You should just ask her about it.]

  Juniper scoffed. “I’d rather not.”

  If It was just a personal base for her to run cape operations. Why all the extra manpower? And why was the SCRA void from operating here?

  She parked her scooter and locked it—she didn’t trust any of these people not to mess with her things. The man at the entryway barely seemed attentive, and everybody walking around here was an unknown vector. Not too long ago, they had a mole here—if they still did. Removing her helmet, she tucked it away before the rising sun started to burn her, greeting her with fury.

  The building entrance was nothing special. A small door. A very long corridor, though. At a basic glance, it looked like nothing more than a corporate office—rows of desks, a minor reception area. Hardly crowded, but every door seemed to lead somewhere.

  Stepping inside, a particular woman caught her eye… blonde, sunglasses perched on her nose, staring. The same woman who had ordered her to move when she had been completely exhausted during the crisis.

  And now? She was glaring at Juniper with enough sharpness to cut the lead. It felt like a power play, intimidation.

  Juniper looked away, pretending not to have stared at her–her own gaze did betray her, however, as she found herself staring at the woman’s bare legs, her knees. Her high heels.

  It was intrusive and abject. She turned away in haste, her heart heightening with every pulse.

  [Really? A little skin, and you go supernova? What’s next? Tripping over your own feet? A dramatic gasp? Maybe a swoon for good measure?]

  [No. In fact, I’m complaining to the nearest Cape agency. My User is weak to exposed ankles. A Tragedy. Do you need a therapist? A vow of celibacy?]

  She kept moving, the weight of the woman’s stare still prickling at her back.

  A voice sparked to life in her head.

  [Terminal: Juniper, they’re waiting for you.]

  She nearly jumped. God, he needed to stop doing that. A door opened nearby, and a familiar figure stepped through.

  

  

  Terminal didn’t reply as he approached. His messy hair obscured his eyes as he approached, stopping just next to her. Then, he made an odd formal bow with his head and said, “Apologies. I can be forgetful of mannerisms and social norms. Still, you are an anomalous person. It only makes me naturally curious.”

  “Anomalous in what way?”

  “From what I gleaned, you possess a multitude of abilities, yet I’ve rarely witnessed you take full advantage of your powers.”

  Juniper resisted the urge to groan. Yeah, great. Love being an anomaly. Super great. She didn’t make a display of it because she was constantly standing on the tip of a social iceberg.

  Syschan snickered.

  

   “

  

  Juniper leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Sure, but, uh… keep it a secret, will you? I don’t want everyone knowing.”

  “Of course. Scientific information like this could be used against you, whether in combat, battle, or warfare.”

  She nodded. He was going to be difficult to navigate, but she’d manage. He did bring up a good point: what will she do in the situation where Syschan is susceptible to manipulation? Anyone with understanding and power able to grasp her mind would know what’s in her head. Which reminded her of the dream she had and the entity residing in it.

  “So… are you my escort inside?”

  He bobbed his head.

  This, by far, was the farthest she had entered into the base. Any further in and she would be in unknown territories.

  They turned, near a stairless descending passage. It was sleek, modern, and futuristic. As she started walking, she caught sight of something through the glass panels.

  Outside, the building had looked like a hangar with depth, implying the bunker beneath. But what sprawled out below was something she hadn’t expected.

  A vivarium. A large artificial landscape.

  Trees stretched out below her, leaves glowing golden under the pouring light that came from the open ceiling. The sun penetrated the thick bushes and leaves. A green atmosphere, like the forest, was brought along with you in the urban hellscape.

  

  Juniper let the brief moment of awe settle before speaking again. “Did you find that mole yet?”

  Terminal stiffened, his usual air of detached curiosity vanishing. “Unfortunately, no activity since Caldera tore the city up.” His tone dropped to something colder and cautious.“Take advisory precautions. While they may have ceased malicious activity, Ms. Evelyn fears they—assuming multiple bad actors—could still be lurking about.”

  “Wait, are you saying they could still be skulking about, waiting to strike again?”

  “Indeed. Which is why Miss Evelyn is involving the Pacifica Intelligence Agency. I’m not allowed to say anything more as I’ve been partially put on the security team. And… I hate to say this, but I suspect that one of these intruders may have been a cape.”

  If he was nervous, that meant there was a reason to be scared. Juniper changed the subject.

  “Being here feels like standing inside an armed nuclear warhead.”

  “Understandable. This was once a United States nuclear test site before the secession in Lower California Area.”

  She nodded slowly. That made sense. A little atomic testing ground.

  “So what happened to the stockpile? And the radiation?”

  Terminal scratched his head. “Officially, it was taken by the ‘Americans.’ Unofficially, it was taken by our leaders. As for radiation, there’s no indication of additional deposits of nuclear material, as the building sensors prove that there is no radiation present.”

  Juniper couldn’t believe that. Two conflicting stories probably meant there was a third. She had a sneaky suspicion that Evelyn was hiding nuclear bombs here somewhere.

  “Shall we move along?”

  “Yeah.”