Morrigan had dragged juniper from the corridor, hop-skipping away, like an overgrown kid on high on energy drinks and excessive sugar. Yet there was something eerie about her behavior, juniper couldn’t even begin to fathom, the psych case she picked up. She hoped the Matriarch base had, a Sanatorium.

  She was unsure if Morrigan, that is, if Morrigan was her real name, her cape name, or both.

  Her grip shifted–clutching too tight to Juniper, then loosening, as if her goal was to get Juniper moving. Every sway she made with her steps, was unbalanced, and erratic as if she was reacting to the air itself.

  Juniper doubted this was sugar. What adult played hopscotch at work.

  Maybe, it was the whiskey they took. Did Morrigan slip in a few chugs before Evelyn had even mentioned it? Or was this something way worse?

  She was off in a way Juniper couldn’t pinpoint. Where Annemarie could be cruel with the precision of a needle. Morrigan wielded malice, which happened to come out of her mouth like a part of her thought process. She was giving bratty, high school student vibes, except if you give the toxic bitch too much power and let her go wild with it.

  And here she was, dragging Juniper along for her manic ride. An unnerving grin etched on her face.

  Juniper inhaled through her nose. Focus, composure, formality, goodwill.

  It didn’t in any way erase the way Morrigan had mocked her trauma earlier, her pain. Yes, she did downplay it to the crowd of people but for good reasons, why did it matter at all to her, a stranger?

  First, they entered the atrium, which lay to the west of the underground complex.

  It was architecturally splendid, all clean-cut concrete and thickened glass on its windows. An OBB sign was plastered over their heads, a constant reminder of where she was. Juniper honestly didn’t understand what OBB was anymore. What she assumed was a massive-drilled hole, revealed the sun through space from above, bright and stark, illuminating its current occupants.

  Juniper stared at the ‘suits.’

  How many had she seen up until now, a hundred maybe? Possibly more? Evelyn appeared to be running two different organizations under the same name.

  One of the vacant desks, inside, held abandoned and untouched stationery until Morrigan veered over to it.

  Juniper felt uneasy about her sudden movement.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  Morrigan plucked the pen from its solitude, flicking it open and closed over and over.

  “So, what do you think?” Morrigan asked, light, casual almost lazy. Like she was asking how her day went, not clicking the pen like a toddler on adrenalin.

  Juniper forced herself to respond, though she felt pretty awkward. “It’s cool, I guess. A lot quieter than the rest of the base.”

  “Oh, wait till you see the noisy parts.” Morrigan grinned, flicking the pen even faster. Click. Click. Click. “Makes my head feel like it’s full of bees.” A pause, then a thoughtful hum. “Kinda like this, huh?” Click-click-click-click-click—

  A shiver trailed down Juniper’s back, and her back wanted to contort. Why? She couldn’t tell you.

  [God! She’s annoying ?_?]

  The sight of Morrigan's fingers moving too fast over the pen made her slightly step back, based on the way her eyes flickered–it was like she was performing some occult ritual. This was voodoo and she was the doll.

  She slowed down her pace.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  Juniper swallowed, resisting the urge to start shouting. She dug her nails into her skin, the pain, gave her a little stability. What was wrong with her?

  “Right,” she said, keeping her voice even. “So, these people… are they all Arkangeal’s assistants?”

  Morrigan snorted, moving behind her. Click. Click. Click. Then she became bored and threw the pen on the polished floor. Juniper flinched–The same way one did if, someone let a glass fall on the floor.

  Like she had done something wrong, her body felt aftershock.

  Morrigan titled her head way too far, like a loose-strung puppet.“’ Assistants?’ That’s adorable. Is that what she told you?”

  Juniper nodded, Evelyn was pretty elusive with the information she withheld from Juniper. And she wasn’t keen on asking.

  Morrigan twitched like she missed the pen, already. “Nah, it’s just a bunch of stray dogs who think they owe her. Mercs, criminals, people who got in too deep. Made too much life debt. Call it a pound, call it a cult, call them slaves, whatever makes you feel better.”

  She moved–too close now, her breath very close to Juniper’s neck.

  “But the real kicker?” she murmured, her voice dropping into something slow and sing-song. “Evelyn likes it. Loves it. Collects people, like a child collects dead bugs in a jar.” A breathy giggle. “She calls it a matriarchy in private,’ but I dunno. Sounds kinda… , don’t you think? The whole ‘Big sister’ thing?”

  Juniper tensed. Morrigan’s voice sent chills down her spine. She felt something tighten in her groin, fear, perhaps, like she was hanging on to a thread here.

  [Say nothing, don’t comprise your position. The environment is controlled which means surveillance. Morrigan has leverage you don’t.]

  Then, before she could rationalize anything any further. Morrigan pranced away–spinning and twirling like the world was indeed a stage. Then, like she was zapped, she jumped. Then fell backwards awkwardly on the floor.

  “Ow,” she muttered, rubbing at her shoulder like she’d been struck.

  “Uh… are you okay?” She asked feigning concern.

  Morrigan blinked at her. Then, she . Not like she’d heard a joke, but like she’d something hilarious. “Oh. That’s weird.” She flexed her hand, watching it like it was someone else’s. “I think my body forgot how to move for a second.”

  “If you’re unable—”

  “Pfft, shut up,” Morrigan interrupted, her grin returning like a mask slipping back into place. “Come on, let’s get you acquainted with the Matriarch before your little head explodes.”

  But something about the minor event burrowed itself in Juniper’s brain. Was she dreaming, stuck in limbo again? Everything happening, felt out of place.

  [THAT WAS OMINOUS. GRAB YOUR METAPHORICAL HELMET. STEEL YOURSELF]

  Creeping unease refused to let go. Juniper couldn’t explain to herself, why she felt this way, why she suspected Morrigan of being beyond weird.

  Only that she did.

  Yet hadn’t done anything to warrant aggression bar her insults, but…

  She shook her head, perhaps the dream was working its way in again, jabbing at her. Who the fuck could she even consult about it.

  Moving on.

  The Cape barracks were up next.

  Juniper didn’t expect much, but it was more than a spacious environment. Circled the massive expanse of the Matriarch, every room was doubled and designed with an open concept in mind–clean, efficient, and hyper-modular.

  A gym area stood particularly out to her. Many of the doors were locked off, tight reinforced with steel security and a small camera. Reserved for the ‘others’, maybe.

  She had a gut feeling that they might be just for the absent and vacant capes, Evelyn wouldn’t speak about.

  “How many capes live here besides Group C?” she asked, curiosity stirring.

  Morrigan rolled her neck, walking ahead like she owned the place. “Pretty much anyone without family stays here,” she said, voice breezy. “Which makes you and Brutus a happy little duo.”

  Juniper went still. She didn’t know, it was that bad. She felt the weight of it all press on her.

  It’s no secret– due to the wild events happening in the last few years, someone, somewhere had lost someone. But…how many people lost everyone?

  “Sorry?” Morrigan glanced over her shoulder, eyes glittering with something sharp. Mocking. “For what? Reality?” She scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Who the hell needs excessive blood relations?”

  Juniper bit the inside of her cheek. She missed her parents. But without her siblings–what was left of her family–she couldn’t live without them. If Morrigan had a traumatic past, then fine. But it wasn’t Juniper’s burden to bear.

  She wasn’t going to carry everyone’s guilt.

  “You may have noticed,” Morrigan continued, stretching her arms behind her head, “the two sections are gendered and cut off.” A sigh. “Well, Evelyn stuck the boy with us.”

  Juniper frowned. “Boy?”

  Morrigan smirked. “You know, the nerd that sat next to you.”

  Her mind clicked. Oh.

  “…He’s not exactly a boy,” Juniper muttered.

  “He could be a pumpkin for all I care., Evelyn still put him in the girls’ section,” Morrigan said.

  “Why?”

  “Probably ’cause he’s weird. Or maybe because Praemor bullied him too much.” Morrigan tilted her head, her smirk stretching. “Me? I think he’s hiding in the closet.”

  Juniper rolled her eyes. “I don’t. I think he’s just neurodivergent. His mannerisms, the way he acts… And that’s okay.”

  “Sure. Whatever. But, if you ever want to play with his feelings, call him a twink and he’ll go livid. Oh! I would love to dress him up at least once. It would so much fun.” she giggled.

  At least it was clear to Juniper who she shouldn’t trust or put her life above.

  It was an embarrassment, but almost everyone in group C was okay, she’d hate to work with the snarky bastards. Quirky in all the wrong ways.

  She thought of Praemor. A fucking onesie, at a semiformal team meeting. Weird as fuck.

  [You tell’em Juniper, you tell’em.]

  They walked what was probably half a mile, circularly. Juniper had glanced up just in time to see Annemarie staring at them. Directly at them.

  No. Not at them.

  At Morrigan.

  Her glare was so sharp and fueled it could have cut steel beams. Morrigan’s demeanor shifted in response–she slowed but carried her own stride. Then, without speaking a single word, Annemarie slammed the door shut.

  Juniper narrowed her eyes. Drama, so soon. “… You two have issues?”

  Mórrígan face twisted horribly and crooked. She smirked. “You wanna know a secret?” she murmured.

  She didn’t give Juniper a chance to object, Morrigan closed the distance between them, her breath warm against Juniper’s ear. Again.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “I caught her… beating some scumbag for fun. Like bloody and broken”

  Juniper tensed. It sounded about in line for Annemarie, she had a no-bullshit policy.

  “She definitely gets off on it, I’ve ‘observed’ her,” Morrigan whispered. “I swear. Her face lights up, and she starts—” A giggle. A sick imitation of something childish. “—giggling just like I’m doing…”

  Juniper froze. She wasn’t about to change her perception of a ‘friend’ because some stranger was shit-talking. She didn’t want to be dragged any deeper. Before she could process the absurdity of what she’d just heard, Morrigan picked up a stray baseball from the floor. And swung it, into the air…

  Once. Too fast.

  Twice. Too sharp.

  Thrice. Too wide.

  [Strange. Don’t you think.]

  Juniper’s thoughts stuttered.

  It was like watching someone experiencing random OCD symptoms—but there was sociopathic about it. Deliberate. Calculated. Planned.

  She barely had time to form questions. Then Morrigan dropped the bat.

  Juniper’s hand snapped to her neck–it itched furiously like an open wound, something had just touched her. Her body went rigid. Goosebumps slowly, prickled along her skin, like she had just touched something icky, the same feeling she got from seeing blood and gore.

  Something was wrong. Something was deeply, fundamentally wrong.

  [Pay close attention.]

  Yes. She wanted to know why she felt that way.

  Maybe it was the gut feeling that said. “Morrigan is up to something.” and she didn’t like it.

  Following up on the tour. The operations room was sprawling—multi-tiered, multi-leveled, packed with rows of desks, a constant hum of activity in the air. Juniper’s eyes swept across mega big screens lining up the walls, old surveillance footage. Citywide feeds. Internal observation gadgets. Live drone footage. She hated to admit it, but… This place was grander than she imagined, not some barebones hideout. A fully operational base. The more she she saw, the more it, nagged at her.

  That’s what Evelyn called herself. A vigilante leader. But looking at all of this? Juniper was starting to think “vigilante” was just lingo for black operatives.

  Because this didn’t feel like vigilantism at all. It felt… coordinated. Militarized. Controlled.

  She thought about how everyone knew what metal ronin did, assassinations hard-to-touch criminals. The way Annemarie patrolled at night, how Evelyn actively assisted the SCRA in doing their jobs.

  Now she was second-guessing everything.

  She glanced at her surroundings. A small group of operators were working with intense fervor–precise, hyperefficient, keyboards blaring at hundreds of words per minute. Juniper felt the vague unease creep in again.

  “What happens here?” she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

  Morrigan stretched, rolling her shoulders.

  “Eh… I’m no techie,” she admitted. “I guess they relay, collect info, help run ops in the field. That kinda thing.”

  Juniper’s fingers curled slightly.

  “So… OBB has an intelligence department?”

  Morrigan snorted. “Sure, if that helps you sleep at night.”

  Juniper wasn’t sure if she was being dismissive or intentionally difficult to communicate with. Morrigan wandered lazily to the side—and leaned up against a big red button. Several of the operators paused, shooting her a collective look of irritation.

  Juniper frowned.

  “What’s that?”

  Morrigan smirked. “Lockdown switch.”

  A cold feeling trickled down Juniper’s spine.

  She stared at Morrigan. “Why are you standing next to it?” Morrigan tilted her head, all mock innocence.

  “No reason.”

  You don’t stand and stare at an emergency button like you’re gonna press it for fun.

  [She has the hallmarks of a forest sprite, naughty and mischievous. Nymphs and fairies, and sprites are known for their promiscuity and cruel tricks. She lines up with it.]

  Juniper scanned the room again. It wasn’t just her that was put off by it. The others in the room were visibly disturbed by her. Some inched closer, but refrained with speaking with her.

  It made Juniper’s skin tingle.

  Those weren’t tingles at all.

  A loud noise, sharp and ringing bells in her ears–like she was hearing something impossibly loud, and yet not decibel of sound entered her earlobes. It was like hum, droning in over her head, over and over.

  Juniper’s pulse jumped, the air suffocating, her nerves crawling on the edge.

  What could–

  Morrigan reeled back, surprised head tilting again. “… Are you okay, Juniper?”

  The words felt off. Like she’d said them before. Not just once, but several times over, repeated ad infinitum, deja vu, but it felt wrong.

  “Yeah,” she lied, forcing herself to stay still.

  Her eyes stayed locked on Morrigan—wary. Calculating.

  Was this her power? Was she messing with her? Was she disorienting her psionically putting her on the attack?

  [I’d have felt if it was direct attack, focus on replicating an isolated scenario again, let her take you somewhere isolated.]

  “Can we speed this up?” She asked. “I’ve got a long week to prepare for.”

  Morrigan rocked back on her heels like she wasn’t balancing quite right.

  “You’re, boring, juniper” she sighed. “But…alright, if you’re so eager,”

  She ran up to Juniper, grasping her hands together, bonding them together, Juniper’s arms at her mercy.

  “I know! She said excitement. Have you ever held a gun before!”

  She shook her head. Turning away, her head. “N-no, can’t say I have.”

  She did her best to avoid direct eye contact. She was physically attractive, just repulsive in a supernatural way, she couldn’t explain.

  The armory stretched before them, a large arsenal, ready to be used, horribly and lethally. Racks upon racks of automated machine pistols and rifles. Each one was placed meticulously as if it were some holy museum.

  Combat knives, more sharpened katanas that a mall weaboo would know what to do with. Scopes, mods, grenade casings—a gun nut’s personal shrine. Juniper eyed the shotgun ammo display, set up like a museum exhibit, labels marking the differences between slug, buckshot, and incendiary rounds.

  Juniper wanted to ask if they were allowed, in here, but Morrigan didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a pistol, twirling it in her fingers like it weighed nothing.

  “Watch and learn, kiddo.” Morrigan's grin widened.“You’ll enjoy setting it loose,”

  She handed Juniper a protective headset.

  “Wouldn’t want your ears to get hurt,” she cooed.

  Juniper took it reluctantly. Wouldn’t do much against her enhanced hearing, but she played along. Morrigan strutted forward, raised the pistol one-handed—and fired. Not at the target.

  At Juniper. Juniper’s breath hitched—” what are you–”

  But the bullet never came.

  No—Morrigan had fired past her, completely off-target—but every shot had ricocheted and landed perfectly on the dummy.

  No sighting. No trigger discipline. Loose and sloppy shooting. Wild, erratic arm swings—and yet, each bullet punched through the same exact spot.

  Juniper swallowed.

  Okay, that was actually—kind of cool, for some strange reason she wasn’t offended.

  “What’s your power?” Juniper asked, trying to ease into the strangeness of Morrigan’s behavior.

  Morrigan grinned, tapping a finger to her lips.“ It’s a Secret.”

  She popped the magazine out, slipped in a fresh one, and offered the gun to Juniper. “Your turn.” Juniper’s hands stayed still.

  “I-I can’t,” she muttered.

  “You know what’s funny?” she whispered, voice , like she was telling a joke only she understood”

  “Everyone says that at first.” She just stared at her, eyes glittering with something sharp. Like she was waiting. Waiting for Juniper to crack. But after a long and awkward pause, she started babbling again.

  “Relax, You just thought that was cool, didn’t you?” She tossed her a look, tone dripping with goading amusement. “Don’t worry, they’re Non-lethal ammunition, mostly.”

  Juniper’s fingers curled around the grip. She took a deep breath, stabilizing her movement. She adjusted her stance—feet staggered, slight bend in the knees, weight balanced.

  Isosceles. She learned what it was from the net. She fired away. The shot cracked into the air.

  Then she wasn’t in the armory anymore. She’s on the road, holding a child in her arms, eyes reaching out. She puts the child down and lifts her mask. The gunfire goes off. Three shots slamming into her body. Hitting the pavement.

  Her blood spilled, she felt pain, shot by the authorities, she felt betrayed, she held trust for them, even if it wasn’t much. She trembled. She fired again, her eyes completely shut, letting loose, wholly blind-firing. Then the gun was tugged away.

  “Hey! Don’t be reckless!”

  Juniper gasped, breath gone, her head spinning—

  Then—

  The cold metal pressed to her neck. Juniper froze. Her pulse pounded. Morrigan’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t smile, her eyes held malice and hatred. Her eyes kept open, she didn’t flinch peering into her. Just held the gun it there.

  Juniper’s scowl deepened. “… What the hell,” she whispered.

  “Relax. I’m joking.” Morrigan giggled. “Gotta rein you in after you went wild.”

  She pulled the gun away, spinning it effortlessly between her fingers, twirling it like a ring.

  “These guns are wired with a smart system.” Her voice lilted, sing-song. “Training purposes. They don’t fire on people.”

  Her smirk stretched. “But you didn’t know that, did you?”

  Morrigan didn’t look like she was joking.

  Enough was enough. She was not going to be toyed with.

  [Observation. Immediately. Before she puts you in a casket.]

  Observe.

  [Morrigan]

  [Power: 5]

  [Endurance: 8]

  [Dexterity: 7]

  [Reflex: 98]

  [Durability: 6]

  [Energy: 40]

  [Chrono hyper-cognition: Allows individual, to perceive and anticipate events before they are untold. Unlike common foresight functions like an advanced probability engine, granting users an innate ability to see into shifting timelines.]

  Most Prevalent Skills:

  Synchronicity Dodge – Evade attacks on instinct, by moving where attacks could never land. Reserve for close-quarters and not long-ranged combat near-perfect evasion.

  Echo Reflexes – Reaction time sharpened, she can appear to predict movements before they happen. Allows for preemptive counterattacks.

  Pathfinding Instinct – Can navigate through chaotic environments with minimal resistance, always taking the safest or most advantageous route.

  Flicker Sight – Briefly glimpses branching possibilities, letting her adjust actions to optimize outcomes. Works best under pressure.

  Juniper’s chest tightened. She was practically a baseline human—except for her reflexes, and her inhuman energy levels. But above all else. She could see into the damn future.

  Then—

  All those weird motions she’d been making.

  [She’s been testing something, on you.] .[I’d tell you to copy her power, but if she’s got some big-brain mental defenses, you’ll probably just get a headache.]

  Juniper swallowed. Those strange tingles she kept feeling.

  The way Morrigan kept making small, erratic movements—like she was reacting to something Juniper wasn’t perceiving.

  [Oh-ho-ho… you think she’s been ‘killing’ you in her own little reality, don’t you?]

  Juniper’s stomach knotted together.

  [Alright, hold onto that thought. Wait for the next area—then put that theory to the test.]

  Juniper grimaced, could she bear another walk with her? Would it be better to retreat instead? Tell Evelyn or someone.

  They had been chased off near the underground garage. Juniper only caught a glimpse inside—rows of ordinary cars, drones, a few trucks, and autonomous stations with robotic arms running maintenance routines.

  A mechanic-slash-engineer at the door barely looked up before snapping, “Fuck off, we’re busy.”

  Morrigan had threatened him with a smile. He threatened to call Evelyn. Based on her flashing teeth, and behavior— she appeared to be enjoying it.

  They had left.

  Two restricted areas later—one explicitly off-limits to anyone but Evelyn—they reached an isolated chamber. A blackened room with one-way windows, there were no visible cameras—at least, none obvious. Soundproofed walls. Morrigan stopped, resting a hand on the door.

  “This is the interrogation room.” She stretched, rolling her shoulders. “I like to have a little fun in here now and then.”

  Juniper had seen enough. This wasn’t a tour. It was theatrics. It was a play, to distract her. She stopped and turned to Morrigan, her expression hardening.

  “Okay, enough!”

  Morrigan blinked. “What?” Morrigan asked surprised.

  Juniper never spoke like this, but she had half a day to look forward to, and she wasn’t in the mood. “Cut the shit,” Juniper pressed, shaking her head. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

  A flicker of surprise crossed Morrigan’s face—then amusement. She clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head like a schoolgirl caught sneaking candy.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she cooed. “If you’re accusing me of something, shouldn’t we settle this in a more… civilized way?”

  Juniper’s gaze sharpened.

  “There’s no chemistry between us. No ebb, no flow. I only followed because Arkangeal asked me to.” She exhaled sharply. “I’m done with this tour.”

  Morrigan’s smile thinned away.

  “No, you’re not. Juniper Pinewell, your tour has only just begun.”

  Juniper moved, but was too late. She shoved Juniper inside, tripping her in mid-air and sending her hurtling inside.

  The door slammed shut.

  Juniper hit the ground, rolling up fast—only to find herself staring at her own reflection in the mirrored walls. She banged on the door. Slamming her fist against metal.

  “Hey! Open up!” No response. “Open up, I’m done playing you’re game”

  She could break out—but not without wrecking the place, it would be so easy.Her fingers brushed against her pocket. Her phone. Who the hell did she call for this bullshit?

  Evelyn? Annemarie?John?

  The lights went out, blinding Juniper with darkness. The door opened again. Then the lights were turned on again.

  Morrigan walked inside, the closed behind her. Juniper whirled on her. “What the hell?” Morrigan raised a hand, voice eerily calm.

  “Relax, sister.”

  Juniper glared at the goth. “Don’t call me that.”

  Morrigan feigned innocence, at ease. “It was just a prank.”

  Juniper’s hands clenched into fists.

  “You’ve been manipulating time—assaulting me in the future.”

  Morrigan’s smile didn’t fade. She didn’t deny it. Juniper’s chest burned. “I know what you can do.”

  Morrigan’s amusement curdled into something else. Something gleeful. Juniper took a step forward.

  “You’re manipulating alternate realities. Altering futures.” Juniper hummed.

  “Maybe I did.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It’s my job to assess threats.” Her tone was steady. Almost bored. Like they were discussing the weather. “And you Juniper Pinewell is a threat to the organization we stand inside of.”

  Juniper’s patience snapped. “Are you the mole? The one who caused havoc a while back?” Morrigan giggled. And then— Her energy spiked.

  A single accurate hit would put her down—but only if Juniper could land it.

  Morrigan tilted her head. Awfully remorseful holding up her hands. “No, seriously. Calm down.”

  Her voice was breathy like she was holding back laughter. “This was a test.”

  Juniper’s blood ran cold. “What?”

  Morrigan grinned.“Evelyn asked me to do it.” She shrugged. “I’ve done it with everyone to test, their reactions, determine if you’re stable enough to keep around... That’s why I walked you around.”

  A test.

  Really?

  As if her fight with Caldera wasn’t already proof enough.

  Juniper stepped forward, trembling.

  Morrigan held up her hands, her face turned into one of boredom.

  “Wait a minute—hey, hey. It was just a little loyalty test. Don’t get mad.” Juniper’s fist clenched so hard it ached., rarely ever this she become physically frustrated.

  She was ready to explode—

  Then—

  The blackened room’s door swung open again. Arkangeal steps in.

  “That’s enough, Morrigan.”

  Juniper turned, fury twisting inside her.“Is this some sick joke?”

  Evelyn’s expression was flat. “No. It was your first test of character.” She exhaled. “Apologies for the deception—you’re free to go for the day.” Juniper’s stomach twisted.

  “I’m sorry. ‘Evelyn’. But that’s ridiculous. Just like that?”

  Evelyn didn’t blink. “Every cape member we have has undergone some version of this—with or without Morrigan.”

  Juniper’s breath stilled.

  “You’re an anomaly, Juniper.” Evelyn crossed her arms. “I needed to know if you were stable enough.” Juniper sighed. “Was this the real reason you called me in today?”

  Evelyn hesitated. “No. Yes. Maybe.” Then, in a tone far too casual— “Anyway, relax, Juniper. Go home. Tomorrow, you’ll do some physical tests.”

  “Alright, I guess my job here is halfway done,” Morrigan tapped her fingers against her leg, bored. She waved to Juniper, and blew a kiss.” “That was fun. I hope we get to ‘play’ again soon See you later, Jun”

  She skipped away. Juniper stared after her, jaw tight. She turned back to Evelyn.

  “Is this really necessary? This feels like a power play.”

  Evelyn met her gaze, unwavering. “It’s not. And I don’t expect you to understand.” She turned to leave. “Go home or stick to the barracks. There’s a training field outside the base if you want to burn off some steam.”

  And then—she was gone. Juniper exhaled sharply.

  Maybe this is why Annemarie was always so pissed. Feeling like a goddamn pawn in someone else’s chess game.

  Then—

  Her skin tingled.

  A prickle at the base of her skull. A ripple through her muscles, like she was on the edge of stepping into oncoming traffic.

  Her body jerked slightly.

  What the—?

  She sat down immediately.

  The sensation got worse.

  Like invisible fingers were trying to puppet her movements.

  Then—

  [Rare Skill Developed]

  ["Phantom Reflex" - Passive Skill (Level 1)]

  Feel little ripples of impending danger before it happens.]

  Juniper stared. Then buried her face in her hands.

  “Oh, fuck me.” She really couldn’t understand the system sometimes, it was just so utterly. Brainwrecking. [Hey, it’s the next best thing! Yay for survival?]

  She peeked at the air around her, half-expecting to see a tutorial pop-up. Nope. Just her fucked-up reality. Her fingers twitched.

  A soft tug in her gut—like something in the universe was gently reminding her:

  "Hey, dumbass, move to the left if you don't wanna get stabbed!"

  Juniper groaned.

  “Did I just develop a skill from being around Morrigan too long?”

  That was a thing now? What was next? Was she gonna start levitating in her sleep if Evelyn stared at her long enough? Or maybe she’d wake up tomorrow with the ability to taste bullshit. Scratch that—she already could. It was everywhere.

  She flopped back against the cold floor, hands over her face.

  [At least you got something out of her harassment.]

  Juniper snorted.

  “Yeah. A skill and a fresh new trauma badge.”

  She threw up her hands.

  “I’m leveling up in the worst possible way!”

  A beat. Then—horrifying realization.

  “…Does this mean I have to thank Morrigan?”

  Silence.

  Then she groaned louder.

  “Oh, absolutely not.”

  [She didn’t seem so bad at the end.]

  “No, she was like: alright, I fucked you over now I’m out of here, nerd.” She rolled onto her side, staring blankly at the mirrored walls.

  “I need a drink. Or a lobotomy. Either works.”

  [You had one shot of whiskey, and now it’s gone to your head. Don’t start with the alcoholism arc.]