Heliogirl descended from the tower like a crashing comet.

Cutting through the skyline at record speeds, sunlight prickles her skin, hot and very sharp. Her exhaustion melted, and she felt unstoppable. The hunger she felt in her belly vanished, something food couldn’t fix. Her energy was vibrating at an entirely different length, she felt her senses sharpen, almost electric.

She was fireproof, to some extent. She’d handle this job easily.

The city beneath her blurred as the environment shifted completely. Moving from skyscrapers, glass towers, and highly dense population grids to Silverhall’s marble and stone architecture. Bourgeois money in excess, she hated it. She hated most rich people.

But she was one of them, wasn’t she? Born rich and spoiled.

The smell of fire broke her train of thought.

Smoke made its way into the atmosphere. Luckily it wasn't a blaze and no chaotic inferno. No thanks to the mall’s defensive designs, the heat was sealed in there, it was only a matter of time before it broke through. The smoke was growing by the second, someone definitely working overtime to make it happen.

She touched down hard near the entrance, her feet colliding with the pavement, making a massive crater beneath her. The crowd around was like wild and panicked animals, stampeding and shoving each other. She wasn’t good with crowd control best to focus on her own tenets.

She hovered about a meter above their heads, moving inside the chaos of the mall. Two –boys inside, were clutching each other as they attempted to make their way out of the smoke. The tallest one is barely able to hold up his friend, whose face is turning blue, and breathing shallow.

Emery dashed towards them, dropping down. “Hey hold on to me!” she grabbed the weaker boy by the waist, his body felt already limp against her. “Grab me dude!” she barked at the taller one.

A fuming and flaring heat was growing beneath them. She twisted herself midair, as she locked on a suited-up individual holding a flamethrower.

The pyromaniac.

He pointed his weapon at them, forcing her to maneuver. The two boys clinging to her were rattled and half-tossed.

“Hold on just a little longer!” The ejecting flames howled at her, and she rolled hard. The boys clung even tighter.

They made it outside, and she dropped them gently, already moving away. The taller one dragged his friend.

“Hurry!” she snapped at them. They didn’t needed to be told twice.

Turning back to the burning mall entrance, she rushed.

The smoke penetrated her eye contacts. As she glided past scorched rubble. The menace loomed near the wreckage of an electronic storefront.

“Hey! Fuckface!” Her voice called out. “Drop the kiddy toy and give up unless you want me to shove it up your ass.”

He tilted his head. His weapon lowered- he removed his mask–inhaling the smoke like a drug.

“Propter peccata hominis, Omnia per flammam mundari debent” he said.

Latin she recognized that at least. She didn’t know what the fuck it meant though. Crazy. Worse than crazy.

“Cut the magic words, Houdini.”

His flamethrower roared again, Licking at the air between them. She held her ground, she needed to test his capability. As the fire ate at her suit and skin. She smirked with confidence.

“A candle against the fucking sun?”

She almost laughed it off.

He sneered. “What about this Sun-whore?”

His hand shifted faster than expected–sliding into a pocket. The right arm holding something round, metallic.

A bomb.

“Shit!”

She shot forward like a rocket. However, it was too late.

He threw it at her.

The bomb sent her flying back before she could intercept it.

There was intense heat. Loud noises. The hot white burst hurled her severely, penetrating her bodyshield. She ate the marble off the floor, skidding hard until she slammed herself into a pillar. Ears screaming. Her lungs were invaded by the smoke.

The smoke and the fire started chewing. She nearly gagged, coughing hard enough that she lost air. Her vision stuttered–Glass shards of closeby storefronts, rained like small knives.

Her arm was burning.

No–It did burn. Nothing a regeneration chamber couldn’t fix.

She looked at the floor, sucking a half breath. Her sleeve was burned and her suit burned into an even darker black. Their blisters on her skin. Her suit wasn’t meant to fail like this, she could withstand heavy kinetic charges.

What kind of bomb was this?

“What the fuck is that.”

Her head pained, throbbing like mad. Ears rung like churchbells. The pyromaniac approached her, already prepping another explosive charge.

She got pissed, really angry. She gritted her teeth.

She couldn’t afford to fail again.

Not this time.

Golden light flared around her body. Purifying the air around her bubble. She sucked in warm but clean air. Stancing herself like an athlete runner ready to sprint away. Energy hummed inside of her, like a wild volcano waiting to burst.

She threw herself like a battering ram, slamming him hard into a wall.

The impact rattled her bones. His weapons fell to the ground. He was knocked unconscious. She checked his pulse.

It wouldn’t be the first time she killed a criminal accidentally.

Luckily he breathed. Not her problem anymore.

She moved back, her chest like a stuffed chimney. She ignored the pain in her arm. She needed to do something about the spreading fires until a fire brigade arrived, the mall was mostly vacant thankfully.

She used her barrier, shield, cutting one part of a flame from another smothering it dead. Going as far as punching the flame simple.

Cocky. She’d been too cocky. She needed to work on her personality.

“Dammit, Emery!” she wiped the sweat from her forehead, her head painted like charred wood. If she was a moment too slow this could have been massive. Hearing sirens approached outside. She grabbed the goon and his gun and fled outside.

Whatever the hell the flame thrower was made of, it wasn't commercial tech. Some cape made this. She hated the idea. That thousands of machinist produced weapons could be out on the street harming people.

The SCRA and the armored variant of the fire brigade rolled inside, Rifles and riot gear, black and menacing. There were even men with fully automatic machine guns.

She threw the fool on the ground as the unit entered to deal with the flames.

“Take him to the gulag.” No one hesitated at her words.

An SCRA officer nodded to her but didn’t say a thing as they bound the fool with Hyper-fibre restraints. A highly dense and compact super rope reserved for capes.

She didn’t like how they moved. They were like a military institution that didn’t belong in this city, feeling more like an occupation group than Cape police.

She hated that.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A call buzzed from her phone. She pressed it to her ear.

“Good work Heliogirl.” Dorian’s voice was emotionless. She wondered whether he believed the words that came out of his own mouth. “We’ll follow up on this case. You get some rest, for a few moments, Bonus pay will be coming to your paycheck.”

She couldn't care less. She had enough money. She wanted freedom.

“Tell me,” Her jaw tightened. “This connected to something bigger?”

“I can’t confirm or deny,” he said. “And before you ask. Yes, your people are mad at me for not consulting them. But You’re welcome.”

“Gee, thanks, I'm gonna hear it tomorrow,” she muttered.

‘I’ll pay you back in time. Until later.”

The call ended.

She exhaled hard breaths, already knowing the next crisis would come soon. She’ll have 30 min break then some shit will go down again. At Least she had spare suits.

“Heliogirl! Heliogirl!”

She turned, and a young boy was calling out to her. An SCRA soldier grabbed him just in time, the boy yelped and struggled against the full-body armored man.

“Zone’s off-limits, kid,” the soldier barked, already pushing him away.

“Hey!” Emery snapped. She didn’t like it when they were rough with kids. “Let him go.”

The SCRA soldier froze. Listened to her command. She didn’t need to argue–they generally didn’t fuck with POP or SIOF capes.

He released the kid.

The boy stumbled towards her, his phone clutch. “A picture? Please? Can I? Can I?”

His eyes were begging as well.

Emery softened up. “Of course.”

They posed. Fingers holding a peace sign. She did the same, ignoring the throbbing pain.

“All right, kid, I gotta head out. Where’s your mom?”

The boy giggled. “Don’t have one. I snuck out of the orphanage. It’s boring there.”

Damn it, fuck!

She crouched down to meet his face. “Listen to me.” she held his shoulders firmly, she saw the glint in his eyes, she had his attention. “I know it might be hard there, but it isn't safe out here, you need to go back.”

She dug her hands into her suit, pulling out a handful of bills. Pressed them into his palm.

“Get yourself something good first,” she said. “Then go straight home.”

He stared at the money like it was magic. “Really? Thank you! I’ll tell my friends how nice you are.”

He waved his goodbye, and she followed.

The SCRA ‘soldier’ stood there watching, giving her a heavy nod. Less discipline and routine more so respect, essentially. She knew he was only being hard because it was his job. She was glad it was a human behind the uniform at least.

She didn’t linger.

With one last look at the flames, she shot back into the sky.

Already halfway back to the tower, A barely trackable blur sped towards her, She felt it coming before she saw it.

The air rippled like water in a tub.

Her skin stood on its end. She twisted with precision, her instincts screaming danger.

There was nothing.

And then there was.

It was Aegysthos, the city’s current number 1 hero. Or as she knew him, Casper.

He stopped in front of her, leaving shockwaves behind him. It was like wind and gravity was nothing to him.

“Caspar! Don’t just scare me like that!” her voice wavered, pulse running a marathon.

“I’m sorry,” he said, like he meant it. Scratched the back of his head.

“Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me.” she sneered. “Do you want to kill me with a heart attack?”

He drifted closer, eyes serious, darker than usual. “I need to talk.”

“You couldn’t send me a message.”

“Not over the phone, not here in private.”

He caught her attention.

If he was serious then something must be wrong. She wasn’t used to hearing him say things like that her skin crawled.

“What’s going on?”

“Not here, in private. People are always listening.”

She nodded. Swallowing saliva. Casper and his wife had been there for her when others weren’t. She owed them more than an ear.

“Right, keep up with me. And! Behave, my assistant doesn’t like capes.”

“Lilia, yes I know.” His lips twitch. “No promises though.”

***

Lilia didn’t wait a second before jumping back into churning out tea and coffee. Emery didn't even get to complain about her injuries before Casper dropped a flash drive on her desk.

“The footage,” he said. “Bank heist not too long ago. Watch it.”

As the video rolled.

Two vigilantes. Were at work. One masked, one unknown–but dubbed Balaclava Girl. The other? Voidwalker.

She perked up. She knew her personally. Dangerous, reckless, unpredictable–even by vigilante standards.

The footage replayed. Caspar didn’t say a word, just watched her.

She leaned closer. Balaclava girl, did the unexpected. Something impossible and wrong.

“Those are–” Emery started

“Your powers,” Caspar finished. “No doubt about it.”

“That’s not possible.” her voice cracked. “ There’s a non-zero chance that two capes have the same power–”

“Yes even by most power mimickers standards.” he cut her off, eyes locked in. “This is deliberate. A disaster in the making.”

She looped it.

Balaclava girl was clumsy in comparison. She did however prioritize the civilians. It would have been reassuring if the scene didn’t activate some uncanny valley in her.

She stood up, doing the exact shield pose the balaclava girl did. Her barrier output was a bit too strong, she lowered it watching it side-by-side.

Only Balaclava girl's shields were weaker but everything was similar.

“Shit!”

There was something else that caught her eye. A flash–Briefly but chilled her bone– Balaclava girl seemed to shift.

Gravity twisted around her.

Emery froze up.

“She copied Voidwalzter’s ability.”

Caspar frowned. “You saw it too.”

Voidwalzer’s gravity field was deadly to most capes. Yet it barely moved the girl. Emery had sparred with voidwaltzer in the past. Under a joint training program between agencies. She hated every second of fighting her. She hated how she could just nullify or amplify gravity. It defied literal physics.

Yet this balaclava girl was least affected by it.

“This is so wrong,” she whispered. “It’s like looking at a broken mirror.”

Her hands glowed and her fists were clenching. She knew the media would make a wild spin on it. There were comparisons. Comparisons that would lead to her. Comparisons that would become accusations.

Caspar gave her some space, afraid she might punch him.

“Okay!” she said to him. “So she mimics powers, she might’ve copied mine somehow. Why not take it to OBB itself? Or Maybe SCRA?”

Caspar hid his face.

“OBB won’t cooperate. ”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“I’ve already spoken with Arkangeal, she didn’t even let me finish, threatened me, and chased me off. I tried, I damn near made her whole base hostile.”

Emery winced. She knew that wouldn’t be an easy effort. Arkangeal was known only to cooperate with the government, and SCRA when it concerns larger security matters. She was untouchable. Renegade royalty.

“So you spoke to Arkangeal personally?” Emery paced, her nerves flaring.

“So what? Why bring this hear? Do you want me to piss off Arkangeal too? Go digging around where I shouldn’t? Because that’s what this is.”

He nodded. “It’s already bad, Emery.” Caspar’s voice sharpened. “This girl isn’t just dangerous. She’s breaking reality–a reality we need to keep people alive. ”

Emery scowled, but he pressed on.

“She’s not random. She’s connected to Voidwaltzer by association—And judging by Arkangeal reaction, they have her in their recruitment hold. And she’s copying powers like no one’s ever seen. Do you think Arkangeal doesn’t know? She’s allowing this.”

She clenched her fists. “And the PIA? The SCRA?”

“They won’t touch it.” He shook his head. “PIA wants plausible deniability. SCRA’s too busy licking political boots to risk a PR scandal if this girl’s harmless. After all, they and the CPE shot her shortly after, It's everywhere on the net.”

"I don' use the internet much." Emery tapped on her forehead.“So what does that leave? me!?”

“Exactly.” Caspar leaned back, his voice heavy. “You’re in the perfect position. You’ve had contact with this girl—or someone tied to her. I need you to find out who she is, what she’s capable of. Quietly.”

“And if she’s a threat?”

“Then I need to know before anyone else does. I’ll be gentle with her. Civil even.” His voice was low.“Just before it's too late.”

Emery’s pulse quickened.

“What do you mean? Elaborate”

Caspar didn’t answer right away. Instead, he replayed the footage—frame by frame—until the barrier formed again. Until that flicker of gravity twisted the space around Balaclava Girl.

“You see it now,” he said softly. “She’s more than a mimic.”

The realization hit her like a punch.

Balaclava Girl wasn’t just copying abilities—she could probably store them. Get as many as she wants.

Caspar exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall “Twenty years ago, before Core Pacifica went independent when it was still part of the United States. I lived on my dad’s farm. A Real quiet place. Miles of fields, nothing ever happened there.” He paused, voice tightening. “Until something did.”

Emery frowned. “What happened?”

“There was a new cape on the scene. Nobody knew where he came from, but he could copy powers—steal them right out from under you like they were his own. First, it was small stuff. Kids with tricks, and parlor-show abilities. Then he went after teams. Real powers.” Caspar’s jaw tensed. “He wiped out hundreds of capes. Civilians? Thousands.”

Her breath hitched. “And you were there?”

“Not for the worst of it.” He looked down, fiddling with his suit. “My pa heard about it second hand, told us to prepare to head out somewhere safer. But when he finally made it off our farm and into a different town? That’s when it hit us.”

Emery stayed silent, letting him speak.

“He hit a convoy passing through the town. They were supposed to be evacuating civilians—moms, dads, kids. But he got to them first.” Caspar’s voice cracked. “They said it took twenty-three high-powered laser cannons to finally bring him down. And even then, he almost walked through it.”

He paused. "I guess we were lucky."

“I’ve never heard about this,” Emery whispered.

“You wouldn’t. The Pentagon buried it. Wiped it off the books, erased records, and even scared the survivors into silence. No one wanted to admit it happened. It was a nightmare” He looked up, eyes dark. “And now I’m seeing the same signs all over again.”

She swallowed, glancing at the footage. “You think this balaclava girl—”

“I don’t know. But I can’t ignore it. If she’s copying powers—especially yours—then we’re looking at the start of something bad.”

“I’m not sure I can deal with Casper, I’m not fit for this.”

Caspar nodded. “Look, the only way that she could have grasped your power is if You’ve had contact with her—or someone connected to her. People trust you she’ll probably trust you. I managed to find some records of her, that might help you. I’ll keep the teams off your back, but I need you to do this for me. Quietly.”

This could blow up in her face—or it could be exactly what she needed to drown out the lawsuits and media noise.

“Fine,” she said. “But I want more details about this massacre.”

Caspar’s shoulders eased, the tension melting off him. “Thank you. Seriously, Emery.”

“No problem.”

They sat in silence as Lilia brought in coffee. She barely made eye contact before darting back out of the room, earning a smirk from Caspar.

Caspar smirked. “I think I scared her.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Or maybe you did.”

She shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nothing.” He hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously though, are you okay, Emery?”

She shrugged it off. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“I said I’m fine.” Her voice snapped, but she didn’t mean it. The words tasted hollow.

“Emery—”

“Don’t.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sick of this.”

“This about the lawsuits?”

“It’s about everything. About the cape life.”

His voice softened. “If you need to talk, Me and Rosemarie are there for you.”

“I don’t.”

“You can come by anytime.”

Her walls were threatening to crack. They had been nicer to her than her own father had been. She’d stay with them on and off for months after her powers kicked in. They’d offer her shelter when her own home was a mess.

The urge to lay out her pains was getting closer and closer and then -

BOOM!!!

The tower shook, rattling windows and cutting through the moment like a blade.

“Jesus Christ!” Emery shot up, already charging her powers “I hate this fucking city!”

Caspar stood beside her, eyes sharp. “Come on. Back me up.”

“Coming.”

They shot out the window blitzing towards the chaos.