An old widescreen TV crackled to life. Upon its dirtied screen, a series of different images of hulking monstrosities came up. Channel after channel, news anchor after news anchor, each droned on with the same incessant story. Images of great and terrifying beasts loomed by like a mugshot. A dark-haired man of average height and stocky build paced the apartment. Francois’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He rubbed the bristles of five-o'clock shadow on his broad chin. Work no doubt. They were probably asking him about the status of something. Or worse, Jennifer could be in trouble. He pushed the thought out, electing to ignore it and instead flop onto the couch. It was a piece of furniture so weathered and worn that the cushions had sunk down and the leather had cracked to reveal the mesh beneath. Breathe in. Breathe out. He huffed a sigh, put his feet up on the coffee table, and cracked open a cold beer. Francois uncoiled his tie from his shirt neck and felt as though the hangman’s noose had slipped away. Work was over for just a little while. Jennifer would be fine. She would be home soon and they could relax and enjoy the weekend. The news blared louder as if the presenters had somehow overheard his concern.

“A stunning victory for the Titaness-” Reported one news anchor.

“Up the three Abyssals went on the attack at the city of-” Blared the next.

“Officials are now saying this is an even greater escalation in the conflict against the-” 

Francois pinched his forehead and flicked to the next set. When it appeared to be a fruitless endeavour to stop thinking about work, he scanned around the apartment instead. So many slight cracks both on the floor and ceiling. Each one he spotted made him tut in annoyance and seemed only to compound the frustration of the workday. His head throbbed, but the smooth flow of chilled beer helped to alleviate the stress. When he looked around the apartment more, the alcohol numbed him to the filth around him. From one problem to the next.

Beyond the most obvious damage was the aged white walls, akin to a sickly pale colour, had stains down them, the carpet was thick with fluff, hair and other small bits that needed to be hoovered. The small wooden coffee table in front of him was filled with empty mugs, beer cans and takeaway boxes such that there was only enough room for him to put his feet upon it. He looked left at the open kitchen. Filthy plates stacked high like towers overflowed the sink, with row upon row of glasses and mugs needing washing before they were overwhelmed by dirt. Grease, which had splattered from the pans sitting on the induction cookers of the stovetop, now formed a thick layer on the countertops that almost caused it to shine under the dying light of the overhanging light bulb. He dared not imagine the state of the bedroom, yet his mind eye conjured the images for him. All the floor around the bed would be lined with creased clothes strewn about for washing. The bed sheets would be turned over and ragged. Plus, there would be the rickety wardrobes devoid of all their contents save for lonely wire hangers. 

With his growing anxiety, Francois was about to look at the bathroom but was interrupted when a click came from the front door to his right. Twenty paces away from the widescreen television was a cramped entryway that snaked into the expanse of the living room. A tall costumed woman slipped through, cursing how the door seemed to jam, allowing her only a tight slit to squeeze through. Francois cast a sideways glance at her and sipped more of his beer. He leaned forward, grabbed an ice-cold can and then chucked it at her. She had barely made it through the door when it came arcing towards her. Even as she sighed and focused on wiping off alien bits of turquoise liquid from her costume, the woman caught the beer with perfect precision without even seeing it coming at her. 

“You could have done that outside you know.” Francois stated matter of factly, his brow furrowing. All that worrying was for nothing. He masked his relief as best he could.

Jennifer flicked the luminescent gunk from her costume, grimacing at the gunk as it slopped onto the doormat. “I was in a rush to get home. Besides, we would have the landlord complaining,” she retorted.

“He’s still going to complain if clean that stuff off in on out of the apartmen-”

A pungent odour crept up on Francois. A malign smell of rotting fish and the salt sea air ambushed him. All the beer welled back up in an instant. He gagged. Barely able to handle the series of wretches, Francois held his nose to save himself from the agony. “Christ almighty!” 

He held back his revulsion and shouted at Jennifer. “Get in the god damn shower right fucking now!”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad…” 

Jennifer’s words trailed off as she saw how Francois was on the verge of vomiting. Even the dead did not look as pale as Francois did. He was willing to suffocate himself if it meant not breathing in any more of the foul tainted air that Jennifer had brought in. She brought a bit of the gunk before her nose. A quick sniff. Her muted expression revealed that she found nothing odorous or foul about it, and so she shrugged with indifference. Seeing Francois on the verge of passing out convinced her that there might be something she was missing. Maybe she had grown accustomed to it or she had a stronger stomach for such repugnancy.

With a heavy sigh, she placed her beer precariously onto a stack of pizza boxes on the coffee table. Behind the couch, back ten paces and tucked into the left corner was the doorway to the bathroom. Turning on the light revealed the grime-covered tiles, a squalid bathtub, a cramped shower unit, a sink and toilet, both of which their porcelain white had been replaced with a yellowy veneer. With a weary exhale, Jennifer closed the door behind her and started taking off her costume. The white suit was striped with thick lines of purple. It bore a large golden T emblazoned across her chest. Her outfit encapsulated so much of her body that it only left hands and feet free from its confines. It adhered to her body so tightly that one would have thought it had melded with her skin. Pulling at it by the neck, Jennifer wrestled down the costumer passed her shoulders, rolling its fabric more and more, grunting in frustration as it caught upon her hips. With one final tug, she breathed a sigh of relief as it fell down past her thighs and bundled onto the tiled floor.

A strained metallic grinding gave way to tinny rattling and half-hearted gurgling. The shower sputtered to life. At this point, the ghastly stink of decaying bloated whale carcasses and washed-up schools of dead fish hung heavy in the air. Gagging, Francois sprung from the sofa, unable to bear the scent anymore. He ducked into the bedroom in the right-hand corner out of a desperate desire to get some reprieve from the stagnant air of the apartment. Within the bedroom, all manner of clothes were strewn upon the floor. His imagination how downplayed the state of disrepair within. Two bedside cabinets sat on either side of the filthy mattress, its wooden frame it rests upon looking as though it was on its last legs and barely standing. Wardrobes, with their doors slightly open, had creased shirts and black work trousers on the hangers and upon the dressing table was a mix of makeup, deodorant cans, perfume and aftershave bottles forming a wall to block a mirror, its glass caked with dust. 

Here, he could at least breathe and focus. Now that his senses could operate once more without being oppressed by the deadliest stench that he ever had the misfortune of sampling, Francois procured a towel from one of the many piles and warmed it on a radiator. Unwilling to dare face such an overwhelming odour until he was forced to, he sat on the bed. As the shower began to die down, the pipework gurgling subsided as the water faded, and he steeled himself for the trial. Now imbued with the warmth of the radiator, Francois took the towel, held his breath and charged back into the living room. Skirting along the wall and reaching the bathroom door, he unlocked it and passed the towel into the gap for Jennifer, which was quickly snatched from his hands. 

Unable to hold any longer, he took in a deep breath. Where he had expected to have his lungs filled with the poisoned air, to his surprise, the rank and revolting smell had dissipated. He could not tell if it was because he was now accustomed to the stench or that Jennifer had washed off whatever foulness had clung to her. Glorious relief at last. He never wanted to smell such a thing ever again. If he could scour the memory, he would do so gladly. Nothing should in this world matched such putricity.

Sitting back on the couch now free from the horror, Francois could finally sip his beer in peace. He watched the television blare story upon story detailing the heroic battle between the Titaness and the Abyssals, these otherworldly colossal beings born in the trenches of the darkest depths of the sea. That was the story told to them by the media at least. No one really knew the answer, despite all the supposed research into it. Groups of these things would march out from the ocean and wreak havoc, yet none could produce an answer as to why they seemingly sought the extinction of humanity. Academics from every form of study gave their hypothesis as to why this event continued to occur around the globe. Some believed them to be ancient lifeforms that had evolved on the ocean bed, hiding where the suns light could not penetrate nor where anyone could disturb their slumber, or that these were the last survivors of a race that settled onto Earth long before humanity and were now attempting to reclaim the surface. Theories abounded. It captured the imagination, posing numerous questions and giving back no concrete answer. His chain of thought was broken as the bathroom door clicked.  

“Thanks for the towel babe.”

Coming out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around her, Francois sat mesmerised. It had been a common sight, but it never ceased to make his heart go aflutter. A thick flowing mane of red hair that reached down to her shoulders and coloured as rich and exuberant as a field of a thousand roses in bloom gave way to strong noble features. Unnatural golden eyes like soft burning stars made her pupils gleam bright. Though partially masked by the long towel, her fit build was hard to disguise. Slim around the shoulders but broad at the hips, with well-defined muscles akin to a runner’s physique. At this moment, Jennifer settled on a more average height, matching him in size, yet such things meant little to her. She came round the sofa, sat beside Francois and cracked open the beer she had left.

“So… What are they going on about?”

When the spell she had cast on him waned, he was able to reply. “You know… The usual. Singing your praises, talking about how amazing you are, another stunning victory, etcetera etcetera.”

“Just another day at the office.” She grinned.  

Francois rubbed his chin and grimaced. “Three has got to be your new record right?”

“Yep, but it was no hassle.”

He glanced at the screen. A clash between woman and monster started to come on screen. Jennifer was front and centre. “Clearly.”

“Well!” She stretched out. Her joints clicked as she released all the tension. “I’m happy to keep the end of the world at bay for a while longer. How was your day?”

“Same old really. Analysis, meetings and reports for nearly ten hours straight. Almost as exciting as fighting those Abysalls really.”

“You didn’t stop working?” 

Francois huffed like a pent-up bull. The very thought made him tighten his grip on his beer can. “We never even left the office. The work was considered too important to stop for something so mundane as three whole Abyssals attacking.”

Jennifer snorted and buried herself deeper into her couch. There was a subtle hint of terrible concern on her face. “I’m glad you are okay though.”

“Same with you hun.”

They both watched the reports coming in and footage of a giant woman clad in a white costume. The Titaness battled with fearsome abominations emerging from the sea. White foamy water cascaded as they stood upright. The red-haired beauty poised herself like a boxer, facing her first foe. A ghastly abomination with the head of an angler fish and a dark carapace body like a scorpion. One of its arms was a long tentacle,  the other a lobster claw so mighty yet unwieldy the creature was forced to drag it through the sea waters. As this beast lunged forward, its horrifying maw arrayed with sharp teeth of uneven size, some like little picks whilst others rivalled the tallest stalactites, sped towards the giant with unnatural swiftness. Francois looked at Jennifer. He inspected her body. No scars or blemishes. Not even a singular mark. It was going to be a slaughter.

The Titaness pivoted to left, evading the bite. With a deft slap, she struck the aberration of nature with a backhand with such force that the head was blown away in a single instance. Glowing luminescent blood sprayed onto the beach and the surrounding buildings. A thunderous clap heralded an explosive shockwave. Its strength threw the cameraman off balance. When the camera returned, it focused on the dying monster. It used its octopus-like tentacle to search for its missing head for a moment as if it were confirming it was no longer there. Then, it slumped onto the ground with an earth-shattering crash. Turning to the other two creatures marching from the depths of the ocean, the Titaness surged forward with terrifying speed. Francois felt uncomfortable. Nothing that big, not even Jennifer, should be able to move so quickly at such a height. The cameraman took ample opportunity to zoom in on the woman’s shapely backside, how it jiggled beneath the suit with each of her earthquake-inducing steps. Jennifer tutted in disgust. 

She took a long sip of her beer. “God, you would think they would make it less obvious they were focusing on my ass.”

Francois chuckled. “Maybe you can write to them and complain, ‘Dear 7TV News, please stop zooming in on my ass, sincerely The Titaness.’” 

Jennifer leaned onto him and sighed. “I could go to their HQ and sit on it if they love staring at it so much.”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in closer. “I don’t think a sit-down protest works too well if you are liable to go crashing through the building.” 

She let her head rest on his shoulder and smiled, “With the crap they put on TV, I’m sure I would get thanked for my services to the city.”

Both of them gave a soft hearty laugh. ‘The Titaness Bests Beasts From The Deeps’ ran the headline beneath footage of her combatting the other two monstrosities. They flailed with their litany of limbs in a clumsy attempt to harm Jennifer. Some connected though more in part of her allowing them to strike her. Francois reckoned she had gotten too lazy to even bother avoiding them. It was as though their attacks were nothing more than pitiful slaps. For all their lauded strength, the two Abysalls were unable to leave a tear in her suit let alone stall her charge. 

In the blink of an eye, singular explosive punches blew away such creatures, the force of her strikes seemingly atomising their upper halves. Their shredded carcasses fell, smashing onto the sea, the water parting from the impact and then rushing back in to quickly swallow their remains. With her defeated foes strewn about her, the giant stepped over a creature and then rested her foot on its corpse. Glowing blood slid down her suit, pooling in the crevices that outlined the extent of her brawn. Her defined abs and thick thighs glisten with otherworldly light. The ocean water shimmered with ethereal fluorescence whilst she posed for the cameras like a trophy hunter proudly displaying their dead prey. Jennifer beamed a hearty smile and flashed a V sign as a score of cheers erupted from the nearby crowds.

Francois let out a mocking whistle. “You certainly know how to draw a crowd.”

Jennifer shrugged her shoulders. “The police are meant to keep them away. I guess they think recording or streaming the fight will net them some money or followers.”

“Christ…” Francois’ voice trailed off, insulted by the notion that there were those stupid enough to get a front-row seat, “Are they not afraid you might lose?”

From his peripheral sight, he saw golden eyes boring into him. Jennifer's scowl was enough to make mountains tremble. 

“I don’t lose. None of us do.” Her voice was stern.

He scoffed in response, taking on an air of brevity to alleviate the seriousness. “Sure you don’t! No shame in admitting you guys get your ass beat every once in a while.” 

A low metallic groaning arose, like iron or steel placed under incredible duress. Francois’ grasp of Jennifer slipped away as the couch quaked, unable to bear the burden placed upon it. When he turned to her, the towel around her body shrunk further and further, tightening ever more around her as her hips pushed him away to the side. Jennifer looked down on him as she grew taller, doubling his height until she could lurch over him. A snide grin ran across her face.  

“Want to try your luck then?” She coyly remarked.

Francois looked down. Something more pressing was taking place. The sofa cried out from the stress of the giant now sitting on it. He yelled out in horror, “God damn it Jenn! Don't grow on the co-” 

A series of snaps sang out like twigs breaking beneath a heavy tread, startling them both, The couch beneath them buckled as it crashed to the floor. Jennifer tumbled forward onto Francois, colliding with him during her slow and steady growth. The sofa then shifted and fell backwards, and they both rolled onto the floor, with Jennifer pinning Francois to the floor. The apartment rumbled as the giant crashed onto the ground, trapping the poor man beneath her. For Francois, it felt like being stuck beneath an endless tide of fluffy pillows that he could not escape, much to his chagrin. Despite such softness, he shouted out his protests, yelling for her to get off him. Yet they were muffled beneath her physique. When finally she stood up to her full height, her head reached the ceiling. Francois followed suit. He stood next to the giant and he appeared more diminished in size, more like a child than a full-grown man next to her. In a blink of an eye, he now found that he rose no higher than her hips, staring at the towel desperately trying to cling on around her waist. Rubbing his back as the pain of having her weight lumped onto him settled in, he looked at the remains of the overturned coach and muttered to himself. He then shot a dark frown at Jennifer. 

The metallic groaning halted. Jennifer folded her arms around her naked chest, avoiding looking down at Francois, instead of focusing on the stained ceiling right in front of her face.

“I guess the couch lost,” she said.

He rolled his eyes, sighed and went rolling the couch back up. Seeing him struggle, Jennifer squatted down and tipped it back with little effort. The sudden shift almost sent Francois flying forward like he had been launched from a catapult, not fully expecting such a violent change in force. Without the supports, the couch now sat lower to the floor, now more akin to a lounging chair. The metallic groaning came back once more and Jennifer shrunk down several feet in height and then flung herself over, laying down on the couch. Though now smaller in height, she still encompassed the sofa such that she filled its breadth. From head down to legs, she hung over the armrests by a few feet. 

Francois grumbled under his breath, walking around to see the overturned coffee table. All of its contents were disturbed from their resting place, having now instead littered the carpet. He dragged the table up with a grunt. 

“If you are going to do that, please let me know in advance. I don’t think we can afford to buy another one of these so soon after the last one.”

As he picked up the bits of rubbish on the floor, Jennifer's hand wrapped around his frame. He was whisked through the air as though he weighed no more than a feather to her. In the next instance, he had been deposited onto her midriff and he saw her statuesque face beaming a gentle and welcoming smile at him. Resting on her abs should have been uncomfortable, yet there was a subtle warmth to her that made him want to bury himself deeper in her. Francois could feel the steady beating of her heart, how her breathing made him bob up and down to a slow rhythm. It should have terrified him knowing just how easily Jennifer could levy her strength, but lazing on top of her made it all melt away. There was something comforting about it, knowing that someone so strong was by your side at all times.   

“Duly noted,” she winked at him. Jennifer stroked his hair, softly caressing the curls as they sat watching more footage of the day’s fights.

A reel of highlights came with a panel of guests debating and giving their thoughts. An academic fellow, or at least what Francois assumed he was judging by the bow tie and tweed jacket, droned on about the victories of the giants against the Abyssals, how the tide had been turned in their favour. The discussion noted how every town, village or city by the coast had their own giant to turn to for defence against these deep-sea invaders and each had not suffered any catastrophic loss of life since their arrival. This cadre of women who could match the power of these monstrosities had more or less prevented the continual ravaging of the coastline. He selected some examples to highlight this fact and Jennifer sighed in exasperation.

“Can we change the channel?” She did not bother waiting for a response and scanned for the remote, frowning in annoyance when she could see it.  

First on-screen came the Empress, a blonde-haired beauty that had defended the capital from such a number of the beasts their casualties totalled an army. One couldn't imagine such a supermodel being able to unleash such devastation, especially when she was waving and blowing kisses at all her adoring fans. You expected that more from the aptly named Harrower, a dour-looking heroine with raven-coloured locks who slaughtered her way through Abyssals. Each had their own nickname, but each boasted height and strength once thought unfathomable for a human. In his analysis, the academic underpinned how their arrival into the conflict had been nothing less than a miracle. Francois could only agree with him. There had been dark days when the city had been transformed into a military base with what felt like thousands of guns pointed toward the sea. They should have been evacuated, but there was nowhere to go. Some left, and many refused to depart, instead opting to help defend their home in whatever way they could. Seeing the giants on his screen brought back those horrifying memories, of clarion calls ringing in the night as a score of artillery pieces roared into life. It all came now as a terrible nightmare, something that felt not quite real, even though he had experienced those long terrible nights.

Jennifer threw her head about, becoming more frustrated as this panel compared the Titaness’s performance to the other giants. Finding the remote tucked behind a pizza box on the carpet, she exclaimed “Aha! There you are you!”

The metallic droning arose once more and Jennifer began to spill over the couch once more, leaning over to the side to pick up the remote, delicately picking it up between her two fingertips. Francois slapped her abs, but it felt as though he had just punched a brick wall. 

Nursing the stinging pain in his hand by shaking it, he gritted his teeth. “Seriously Jenn, stop being so lazy! You’re going to bring down the whole apartment!”  

Dropping the remote onto her small partner, she then closed her eyes and stretched herself out, moaning in delight during the process. The towel around her waist slipped away as she bit her lip. Francois pounded her midriff again and a sharp pain went coursing its way up his arm. If he punched her anymore, he might very well shatter all the bones in his hand. A harsh cracking sound arose as her expanding form began to overwhelm the couch. Centimetre by gradual centimetre, Jennifer doubled in size, lost in the sensation of her growth. An idle hand slithered its way to her abs, feeling out the crevices of her defined brawn and then finding upon Francois’s doll-like body, stroked him with her tender touch. The other cupped her breast and started to massage it. She bit her lip, whispering to herself, enraptured with the ecstasies of becoming taller and taller.

Though her soothing touch tempted him, he fought the urge with every ounce of willpower. Francois took in the horrifying reality that Jennifer was about to plough the walls if she did not halt her growth. He bellowed “Stop! For god’s sake, stop!”

Jennifer’s head shook as she snapped back to reality. Her head reached one end of the living room with he feet reaching into the kitchen. By some miracle, the sofa had buckled only slightly against the overwhelming tide of her backside, somehow supporting her mighty bulk rather than being crushed flat. The coffee table had been less fortunate, her hips pushing it over, the wooden frame now dented thanks to being wedged between the floor and the onslaught of her growth. On her abs, Francois’s piercing gaze bore into her with a scowl that could cause make statues tremble. It was hard to be intimidating when you were barely the size of a small doll, but Francois tried his best.

“Oh right… Sorry about that.” 

Her voice, though timid, had become lower and more powerful, making her words bassy enough for Francois to feel his chest rumble from its strength. Focusing herself, clenching her fists, a subtle whine akin to an engine winding down emanated as she shrunk down in height. Soon, Jennifer returned to her still stultifying amazonian-like height. In a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment, she held a hand to her cheek. Seeing just how frustrated Francois sent her complexion to a blistering red that was almost as deep and sanguine as her luxurious mane. 

He huffed and looked up. Another crack was added to the apartment ceiling. “Still finding it hard to focus?” 

Francois rubbed the back of his head, his hands now lightly pulsing with the leftover vestiges of pain. No wonder those Absyalls stood no chance against her. Punching tungsten would have been softer than what he had endured. It was an odd conundrum, for he sat on her body and felt it be so soft it was though he were lounging onto a memory foam pillow. Perhaps, he wondered, Jennifer’s physique hardened in response to physical force. It would explain how those terrifying creatures that could topple buildings and treat brick and concrete like bits of wet tissue but had their teeth or limbs shatter when attacking her. More worrying than that would be the casual ease of her smashing through the walls of the apartment or causing the floor to crack and shatter. He imagined the neighbours below hearing this reverberating sound of reinforced metal being rent asunder rise as a terrible dirge, only to see the ceiling above them shower them with dust as little fissures formed then split wide as two great buttocks followed by the athletic form of a giant woman come tumbling down onto them. 

“Yeah…” Jennifer, panting heavily as though all the breath in her lungs had been stolen away, used the rhythm of her breathing to centre herself. “I nearly lost myself there.”

Sliding off her abs, Francois landed on the carpet, tutting at ruins of the coffee table. Surveying his apartment with rising agitation, taking in his kingdom of mess and trash with its amazonian queen laying on her broken throne, he stretched himself. A click came from his back. When he was done, a heavy sigh came. The timing could not be better. A perfect excuse to finally do what needed to be done.

“Maybe getting the cleaning done will help you focus.”

Jennifer’s groan was like that of a petulant child being told to do their chores, “It's the weekend Francois.”

“Right, so we have got no excuse.”

“I’ve been at work all day, saving the city and whatnot.” Jennifer wiggled on the couch, burying herself deeper. Evidently, she was bunkering down.

“And I’ve been at work as well.” He retorted, crossing his arms.

“Abyssals are nothing like spreadsheets.” Jennifer snapped back, folding her arms behind her head. It was like she was lazing on a small sunbed rather than the tattered remains of some poor sofa.

“An incorrect pivot table can be just as deadly as any Abyssal.” 

Her eyes rolled and she let out a long exaggerated yawn, closing her eyes to feign sleep. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m not joking. We need to clean this shithole up. Many hands make light work you know.”

“And too many cooks spoil the broth. We’ll just get in each other's way.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand like a master shooing away a servant. "I'm sure you can handle it by yourself."

Francois bit down, letting his teeth grind together to dispel the welling frustration. Moving her was out of the question. If the stick would not work, there had to be a carrot of some kind. But what, he could not figure out. His eyes fell onto the bathroom door and thought of using her suit as a potential bioweapon, but thinking of that festering smell intensifying as it stewed on the floor triggered a primordial sense of dread. She hadn't even been perturbed by it in the slightest. Threatening not to cook might be another possible avenue. Yet, Jennifer ate through decaying slices of pizza with tufts of grey mould on them in her half-awake stupor whenever she came back home late from her battles against the Abyssals. An iron stomach that digested rank leftovers that housed enough bacteria and rot on them that it could poison any normal humans digestive system and send them to the hospital would not be so easily swayed, even if they were thrown at her. All options seemed to be closed.

That was until a gurgle came from Jennifer’s stomach, rattling the apartment with its strength. Francois grinned in mischievous delight. An opportunity presented itself. 

Patting her belly, Jennifer woke from her fake sleep and turned to Francois. She returned his coy smile with one of her own. “Can we order some food in?” Her voice was low and suggestive like the purring of a cat.  

“Of course, I can,” Approaching the amazon with his head held high, he stood before the couch and its lazing giant and placed one hand on his hip, “Will I is another question entirely.”

Jennifer left the couch and stood tall, leveraging her height as a means to intimidate him. He only came close to her hip, close enough to her towel, which draped down her waist like an ill-fitting loincloth. Golden eyes settled onto him, her intense gaze drilling down in an attempt to make him waver. There was a devious half grin on her face.

“You know, I do have ways of coercing you.” Her voice was low and sultry. She licked her lips and exaggerated her moans of pleasure. She shot up an inch in height. Jennifer curled a smile, trying in vain to stifle a laugh. 

“Go ahead Titaness. Take your best shot.” He said with a muted expression. Taking a step back and folding his arms, he played the straight man to her games. Worry began to creep up, though he did not want to show it. She could very easily lose control again if she joked about with her ability to grow.

She beamed a full grin, still fighting off a giggle as she squatted down. Pressing herself closer until her bare chest was right in his face. The rumbling emanating from her grew louder and louder as if she were prepared to burst upwards in height. Francois shook in the spot from the intensity. He steeled himself as best he could, but his worry turned into full-blown fear. Plates and cups shimmied, beer cans rattled off the edge and spilled onto the floor. The coffee table bounced and moved as if caught in the grips of an earthquake. This was stronger than the one before. Though she did not grow, whatever she was building towards was beyond his comprehension. If it continued, she could very well bring down not just the apartment, but the entire complex. Whatever height she was trying to reach, it was going to come as one explosive burst. Just as Francois took a step back, preparing for the calamity. Then, the rumbling halted.

Luscious glossy lips engulfed his face in a red tide for a brief moment. After the gentle peck, she gave him a wink and then flopped on the couch with a furious thud that threw the apartment into an uproar. Disorientated, his head spun and vision blurred, as the warmth of the kiss dissipated, like the last flickering embers fading away from a once all-consuming fire. Jennifer now sat back in the tattered remnants of the couch, though he was unsure if she had grown or not. The towel all but covered her privates, her backside now encompassing all of the cushions and her head close to bursting through the ceiling. Fluffing her hair out, her hair caught the weak light from the dying bulb above, giving her majestic mane a transfixing shift as though it ebbed from a deep scarlet to a bright rosey red. As reality focused in and his sense settled, he could stare in amazement at her. Once she had settled on her throne, Jennifer then reached out, lifted him and pulled him close. A barrage of kisses, each one more passionate than the last. Jennifer wrapped her arms around him in a tight but tender cuddle. She kept on biting his lip in all the excitement. Her tongue swirled around his. They were caught like two dancers desperately trying to keep pace with one another, coiling and then uncoiling in an endless battle. Jennifer kept pushing and pushing, driving her lips deeper into Francois, her subtle moans of unadulterated delight rattling his body with their strength. When the onslaught finally abated, the last kiss that felt drawn out across eternity left him hungry for more. Jennifer's soft smile was a promise for more and Francios could only lust for her embrace as if he were no more than an addict deprived of their next rush.

He rubbed his blushed face in amazement and laughed to himself. “I guess you win this time.”

Jennifer stroked his hair. She stretched out and sighed. Her voice had deepened slightly once more, an element of bass returning thanks to her size. “As I said, I always win.”

He turned his attention to the apartment then focused back on Jennifer. “How about this, we get a takeaway tonight, we clean up as much as we can tomorrow morning and then go out for the afternoon? We can go to the cinema or wander around Victory Park in the evening.”

Her eyes darted off, pondering the deal for a moment, weighing the decision with a subtle bobbing of her head. She then nodded in agreement.

“Fine, but the takeaway is on you right?” 

Francois grinned. “Isn’t it always?” 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, half surprised that during all the uproar and commotion it had not been smashed to pieces like so many before it.

“Pizza good with you?”

As soon as he put the phone to ear, Francois realised she had in fact grown taller. All those kisses had covered her growth. The momentary confusion allowed her to become maybe ten or so more feet bigger than beforehand. He wanted to say something, but the tender warmth from her body, the loving smile and the gentle caressing of his hair persuaded him otherwise. To fall for such a ploy was an annoyance, but cuddling next to her was too much of a delight to pass up on. Besides, he thought, she had only caused a minor crack today. Maybe she was getting better at controlling it. Then again, another couch had fallen victim to her growth spurts. Francois exhaled a sigh of contentment. A small price to pay he supposed. Whenever he was close to Jennifer, he never felt safer. He scoffed at the thought. Hard to believe when she kept on teetering closer to the edge of outgrowing the entire building. Perhaps he would have second thoughts when the apartment was crumbling all around him thanks her.

Jennifer ran her hands down Francois's comparatively smaller frame, her digits exploring his body with their soothing touch. She plucked a can of beer that look no bigger than a shot glass between her fingers and proceeded to down the entire drink. When she grabbed another, dropped one down to Francois and got one of her own. Jennifer sunk herself deeper and Francois nestled himself onto her, spraying himself. Beer and girlfriend by his side, now he was ready for a nice and relaxing weekend. All they needed to top off the night was a bite to eat.

“You know it is.”

A dull buzzing arose from the bedside. Francois, groaning in annoyance, reached over. At first, he thought it was an alarm he had forgotten to turn off before going to bed. When he opened his heavy eyes, his phone’s screen was alight. Slipping away from Jennifer’s arm that rested on his back, Francois sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his phone. He rubbed his back. Jennifer really had to pace herself. She was going to shatter his pelvis at the rate she was going at him. The beer could have attributed to the roughness. Jennifer had damn neared drunk enough to make a brewery dry. Rather than obliterate her liver, she most likely felt only felt a bit tipsy. Whilst he nursed the dull ache, he saw that McKonnig was calling him. A sense of deep worry ambushed him, removing the calmness that came from a peaceful sleep. Rubbing his eyes, Francois answered him. A fat slobbery voice, the panicked flappings of some blubberous beast like a walrus, met him.

“Hey there Francois, you okay?”

McKonnig’s words were tinged with anxiety. He never spoke this fast, nor did he ever bother with such formalities as asking people’s feelings. Francois’s worry rose like a furnace being stoked, his gut churning at all the possibilities coming through his sleep-addled mind. Perhaps he was being fired for something, perhaps he had left something at work that needed to be done or perhaps he had leaked some confidential information.

“Yeah…” Francois spoke in hushed tones.

He glanced over his shoulder. Jennifer sprawled across the bed, having grown in the middle of the night such that she more or less took up the entire mattress, relegating Francois to a little unclaimed portion upon its precipes. Yet from the way her hand had been, she had instinctively kept him close in the same manner one would sleep beside a stuffed animal. He put his hand to his mouth to cover a deep lengthy yawn and looked at the clock. The twilight hours, that slight limbo just before dawn. Something must be bad for him to be calling this early.

“What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” McKonnig paused for a time. Francois could hear the faint sound of typing, the clicking of a mouse and the static in their connection. “I need you to come in today.”

“What?” Francois blurted out, his anxiety crescendoing into a welling of deepest fear.

“I need you in.” He repeated.

More typing and then a tired exhausted huff before McKonnig spoke again. “One of the larger teams has fucked everything up. All the data, the analysis, projections, fucking everything. All this is meant to be going to the lender's consortium on Monday.”

Francois took a moment to let it sink in. “Why are you calling me exactly? I don’t know anything about that account.”

“I’m calling everyone I can. The executives have been meeting since midnight after some QAs caught the problems before the graveyard shift kicked in. It's all hands on deck mate. Managers have been given the order to get everyone on the analyst desks working on it. People are getting buried, jumping out the window or running for cover. It's going to be armageddon at the office today mate.”

“Christ.” Francois rubbed the temples of his head.

“You’ll get clued up at the office. We’re pretty much chopping down an entire forest to print out orientation documents to get everyone up to speed. I’ve been up all night trying to distil this shit storm into an email so everyone knows what we are dealing with.”

Francois groaned. “We getting paid for overtime?”

McKonnig let out a nervous chuckle, “Course. We’re not a sweatshop.”

“Had me fooled at times.”

A chortle came from the other side of the phone followed with a weary laugh. “So you coming in?”

Francois glanced at the clock and huffed, “Do I have a choice?”

“Lemme put it bluntly.” McKonnig’s hefty voice carried a sense of growing frustration, though Francois could not tell if it was directed at him or whatever work was in front of him.

“If we don't sort this mess, we lose all the banks as clients, and then all of us are going to be cashing unemployment cheques and looking for new jobs by the end of next week.”

Francois paused for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder. Jennifer had rolled in the bed slightly but still appeared to be sound asleep. He hadn’t realised he was biting his lip.

“Alright,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ll be there by seven.”

“Top lad.” McKonnig perked up immediately. “I’ll order some food at lunch. Noodles, curry, kebabs, whatever you want. If this is really bad, we’ll get some beers after. Lord knows we are gonna need em'.”

McKonnig pepped up even more at the mention of grub and alcohol, but that was him to a tee. It was what Francois appreciated most about him as a manager. There was a willingness to get stuck in when things were going south, but happy to comp in any way possible to keep everyone content. Others would make the call, round up anyone they could and then fall back to sleep, letting their underlings do the lifting. From the background sounds and the weary exhaling that interlaced with the call, McKonnig really must have been up all night dealing with this problem.

"I'll hold you to it. See you at the office." Francois hung up the phone.

A cold sweat rolled down his spine. He felt a soul-crushing weight like he was caught in some overwhelming aura. Francois turned his head slowly and went pale with fright. Jennifer’s mane was frazzled and scruffy, forming a veil of crimson locks that obscured her golden gaze, her eyes half-opened. Like a mother bear forced out early from her hibernation, a roar of metal came, and the wooden frame of the bed cried out in agony as she grew to become the terrifying amazonian height, having to squirm down the bed to ensure she did bash into the wall. Stunned into place, he watched her shimmy, her legs dangling over the side, her hips butting up against him as her ass pushed the covers up, barely concealing the rising mounds. What had frozen him into inaction was the sheer speed. The metallic groaning he heard heralded a slower growth, one that he could at least fathom, but in a few scant seconds, she had ballooned up, almost doubling her height. By the time he had realised Jennifer was awake, her hips were already barreling towards him.

Just as he was worried he would be flattened, her hand swung round, catching him in her iron grasp. His phone flew out of his hand as Jennifer pulled him into her, nestling him between her breasts. A hail of protests came from Francois. A luxurious warmth like the soothing heat of a gentle sauna tempted him. Jennifer always insisted on being the big spoon and would wrap herself around him, surrounding him as she curled up to sleep for the night. Being engulfed by this all-consuming softness gave him a sense of cosiness and protection. Brimming with muscles as she was, they never felt hard as he imagined. Seeing her pronounced abs, biceps or thighs, he could not help but see them as being harder than stone, such was his impression of her physique. Somehow, on the contrary, her form had all the luxury of a woollen blanket, so soft and inviting that whenever you felt its touch, all you desired was to mesh yourself into it and never be parted.

Yet this was not a time where he had the luxury of indulgence, as much as he wished to be pinned against her chest for a few hours more. As he was about to yell about the urgency of his work, Jennifer rolled onto her front, trapping him in place between the mattress, silencing his shouts beneath her. Smiling with contentment as she felt Francois wrapped up beneath her body, cooing in delight at him struggling so much, enamoured with his little frame being overwhelmed by hers, she wiggled and squirmed just to tease him, letting Francois know how much she was enjoying his fight against him. This was the price he had to pay for having his phone dare to stir her from her rightful rest.  

A low mumble emerged from Jennifer, half stuck in a tired stupor still. With a hearty yawn, her head came down onto the pillow and muttered in a crackly voice. “You’re not going anywhere if you fight like that.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Francois writhed, profanities snuffed out by her chest, barely freeing his arms so he could go about slamming his fist against her. Usually, he had given up at this point, content with her laying on him for a minute or so. Every blow struck against her, pathetic as it was, barely registering as anything more than a fleeting annoyance, seemed ferocious, like he was desperately trying to heave her off. Jennifer sighed, shrinking herself down to a more modest height such that she did not have to strain the bed anymore with her form. Pushing herself to her side and using her elbow to prop her head up, Jennifer allowed Francois to escape from confinement. Gasping for air like he had been deprived of it all his life, his face flushed blood red as though somehow being underneath her had made him sunburnt. Francois shot a death stare at her.

“This isn’t funny Jenn.” He said after each quick breath, brushing his hair to give it some form of neatness, “I have to go to work.”

“Waking me up this early isn’t funny.” She grumbled as she still fought off the lingering grogginess.

“I’m being serious, it's an emergency.” He fumbled his way off the bed, rubbing his eyes and looking through the mess on the floor, trying to spot any clothing that was not stained or well worn.

A few uneasy seconds passed as Jennifer processed the word.

“It's relative alright? Fucking hell.” He picked up a creased black t-shirt and pair of jeans from the mounds, hoping this pile was compiled of clean clothes.

“No, it's not!” A thud came from her stuck the mattress, the anger rising in her voice. How the bed survived her wrath Francois would never know. It was powerful enough to make him rock.

“It’s my job. Besides, it's a one-off. I’ll be back before you know it and we can go-”

An explosive grating sound as harsh as nails dragged on a chalkboard went off behind him, the violent snapping of wood deafened by the blast. Fright made him turn around and he saw Jenn filled the entirety of the room, the top of her head digging into the wall as plasterboard stained her locks with a coat of white dust. Half curled to prevent herself from fully demolishing the walls, the soles of her feet pressed against the other end, threatening to burst through into the living room. The frame of the bed became another casualty of her growth, another ruined piece of furniture overcome by the weight of Jennifer’s amazon form. No, it wasn't Amazonian. It was larger. The room was decent enough size. The fact she was so scrunched meant she had easily cleared double digits in height in a mere instant. A massive digit came before his face and Francois twitched, half ready to dive out of the way as though her finger came flying towards him like a truck barreling right at him.

“No, no, no!” Francois’ body rumbled from the power of her voice, deep enough to rattle the foundations of the apartment with fear, the tip of her finger poking his chest.

“You are staying here with me and that is final! Tell your boss to get someone else to deal with the problem!”

His throat went dry. Words clumped in his throat, lodging there as Jennifer glared at him, stuck beneath the oppressive icy gaze that had frozen him in the spot. A cluster of words forced their way out as he stuttered “I-I can’t Jenn!”

“I don't care!” Her response came like a roar of thunder, rocking the apartment with the power of her voice. “I'll tear down that office with my bare hands if I have to! Brick by fucking brick!"

Francois breathed in and steadied himself, and responded in a low, calm and direct. “Listen to me. They need everyone there Jenn. I have to be at the office to help handle it. I'll be back before you know it.”

Bracing himself for another booming bit of uproar, the silence that followed caught him off guard. A creaking like the sound of a mighty oak caught in perpetual fall came as the gargantuan digit retracted with Jennifer shrinking down until she lay on the thoroughly flattened remains of the mattress. Shards of the bed’s frame lay scattered about, a cracked indent in the wall. Jennifer turned away from him and crossed her legs. Her back arched over as though she deflated after having spent all the vigour. A heavy pause hung over the bedroom.

“We were meant to spend the weekend together…” She covered her face and sniffed. A tide of tears welled, threatening to break through and flow over her face, her voice cracking and growing weak.

“Jenn…” Francois went around the bed to sit beside her, stepping over the remnants of the bed frame and strewn about attire. Jennifer turned her back to him.

“Just go if it's so important.” Her words were so meek, they came more as a faint whisper.  

Something had to be said, there had to be the right way to explain why he had to go. Nothing came, however. In part, she was right. This was not an emergency in any true sense. Absyalls were an emergency. Dealing with demanding clients hardly compared. But this was two worlds clashing, he thought. Jennifer dealt with the true issues so she could allow frivolous problems like business errors such as these to exist. If a hierarchy existed, from which one issue resolved allowed two more to exist, far down this ever-expanding list of interconnected points, Jennifer’s emergency would be at the top, the absolute fundamental from which all others were allowed to devolve from. A great lineage of other minute problems that were allowed to exist only because she could contend with the greatest existential crisis that plagued humanity. Pangs of guilt struck his stomach and bowed his head. She dealt with the Abysalls, sometimes handling back-to-back incursions, coming in at those ungodly hours where the dawn splits the night sky, flopping into bed beside him still in her suit. Never once did she complain about the burden, but was she too not entitled to that same normality she helped to create?  

It felt wrong. His heart raged at him, thrumming harder and harder as if the constant rhythmic beat were trying desperately to pump some sense into him. This work wasn't important, his company wasn’t important. This wasn’t his problem, but he moved away out and started collecting the rest of his clothes and left the bedroom. His work helped keep a roof over their head, his work allowed her to have a place to rest. If her job was to protect the city, it was his job to make sure there was always a home to get back to, no matter how disgusting or awful it was. She could have a place where she wasn’t the Titaness, this mountain-like giant of a woman that struck down abominations with her bare fists. She could walk through the door and be Jennifer. That was his job, to be there with her when she needed him. Emotion quarrelled with reason in a cataclysmic battle. It made every step towards the bedroom door feel as though each tread shattered his heart, piece by painstaking piece. He pressed the handle and it clicked. A heavy snot-filled sniff and a subdued whimper. Francois looked back. A faint light from the alarm clock made her streaming tears glisten.

Cold water from the shower shocked him further awake. On and on came the icy stream as Francois stared at the tiles then to the showerhead. The water felt more chill than usual, more bitter than arctic seas. Maybe he could quit his job and spend the days with her. To see her like this was not worth the paycheck they gave him. It would mean her having to do more to rake in some form of income. One of the greatest benefits of his company was the salary allowed her to avoid doing all the promotional or marketing work the others went through. Fight Abysalls, turn up to some event, endorse a product, sleep for a few hours, repeat. Seemed like being one of those girls was a fate worse than death. Sacrificing his soul to examine financial data was worth helping her avoid that humiliation, even if, according to her, some of girls relished the media focus. Jennifer always turned them down. One of the reasons was always that it stole away the weekend. If she made such a sacrifice to be with him, to leave her alone for a single Saturday was a crime. Yet, she had her duty. He had his. Maybe the bosses would give him a bonus for helping resolve this problem.

Francois smiled to himself. That thought was the only way he could reconcile this betrayal. Just a little bit extra would be enough to get that ring a few months earlier. Squalid as this place was, that diamond would shine like the brightest star on the most deserving beautiful woman imaginable. For a moment, he envisioned it all. It was perfect. A plan so long in the making. Taking her for a walk in Victory Park, stopping by the lake as the amber glow of the dusk sun lay upon them then dropping to one knee, showing her the ring and then popping the question. Cruel reality sunk back and he huffed. Would she even agree after today? Time was the true gift. Going out for walks, lounging on some broken couch having cheap beers, chatting about inane topics and scoffing lousy takeaway. That was most precious of all, and he was taking that away from her. A great injustice, perhaps the worst of all, he thought to himself. Twisting and churning, his stomach raged against him.    

Drying himself off and getting dressed in his casual clothing, he went into the living room, picked up his workbag, and dropped it onto the flattened couch, checking over that he had everything. His plain black t-shirt and chinos were creased, but at least there were no stains or odour. At least none he could see or smell. Inside his bag was his laptop, chargers of various kinds, several notepads and pens. Patting on his trousers and unable to feel his wallet, phone or keys, he twisted his neck with such speed he could snap it, staring at the half-ajar bedroom door. Creeping in, Jennifer had tucked herself back into bed. To his mind, she seemed smaller, only taking up a quarter of the mattress. The sheets may have obscured her height or she could have curled herself up into a ball. Swiftly swiping his wallet and keys from the dressing table and then tip-toeing over the splinters of the bed frame, he procured his phone.

Francois stared at her for a time, unsure of what to say or what to do. He thought to lean over and kiss her, but that would only upset her more. Backing out, he hung in the doorway. Dim light crept in from the living room. Jennifer hadn’t stirred whatsoever.

“I’ll see you later hun.”

No response. His gut writhed against him. Closing the bedroom door, he slipped on his trainers and left.

Out of the apartment came the wider world. To his left were doors to the other apartments. No doubt they had heard the commotion. They were either being polite or they were collectively planning to murder them for the constant problems he and Jennifer both caused. Blue half-light still hung heavy in the sky with whispers of orange bleeding in as the sun crept over the horizon. To his right was the open stairway down, giving him a clear view of the surrounding complexes. He huffed, slung his bag and made his way down. Bird song chirped and distant honking came and went. The city was unnaturally still. Down several flights, he pulled out a key and unlocked the metal gate, coming into a sidestreet. Mopeds and chained-up bikes attached to parking racks lined the tarmac, with gaps only where the entrances were for the requisite block. Unlocking the chain to his bike, this white thin-framed variant with narrow wheels, he pulled it out and began his long cycle to work.

Weaving through the many sidestreets about, he found the city to be in a state of flux. Late-night revellers staggered home, their suits and dresses thoroughly worn by a night of excesses mixed with retail workers coming off the night shift. Joggers and dog walkers passed by cafe owners throwing up the shutters and setting out tables and chairs. Vans parked in alleyways had their cargo unloaded as hefty delivery drivers piled off box after box. When Francois connected onto the main street, enough time had passed that there were more signs of life. A slow trickle of cars built up, piling up into the lanes, waiting for the lights to turn green as a steady stream of pedestrians crossed. Worming his way through the stationary cars, he merged into the cycle lane on the left-hand side, joining an eclectic mix of cyclists. Some bore heavy boxes on their back either for takeaways or for delivering packages, others wore skins that were typical for the true enthusiasts, and then there were all the uneasy-looking tourists or first-time city cyclists who appeared quite uneasy and hesitant about riding the bike through the busy roads of the city.

When the light turned green, the horde of cyclists raced off. Francois went straight ahead, joining with the majority of the touristy group. Indeed, it was not too unexpected. This portion of the city had been spared from much of the destructive rampage of those creatures and retained much of the history and the look of the old metropolis. With all its ancient museums and libraries, he could guess a chunk of the tourists were off to visit those spots. As he cycled further on to his office, the buildings around started to alter in appearance. Older structures had a dull alabaster look, only to be broken up with the occasional brown-bricked aberrant. Much of the architecture followed a similar style, with large plane glass windows only broken up with masonry. Outside ornamentation was generally lacking, but this changed as he cycled closer down to the office. Some thirty minutes later, after many stops and starts and winding through several intersections, the style of the city changed. Offices and apartments, shops and roads, and even to the sidewalks, a greater emphasis was placed on adding vibrancy. Colours were no longer confined to the boring and drab terra cotta or weathered marble look, now their exteriors resembled all manners of the rainbow. Spaces were more open as tiny parks and small amphitheatres broke up the endless encroachment of tower blocks. It was as though Francois had crossed into a new world, from sterile to experimental. Yet, the change in scenery belied a terrible reality.

It provided a physical border between an old and new world. Rampages that saw antiquated constructions turned into ruins and rubble had given the planners ample opportunity to rebuild the city. Though he was still a ways from the beach, the surroundings provided that marker, as if stating that this was as far as the Abysalls got in their attacks. Some historical tidbits were rebuilt, however. Famous landmarks like copper statues had been given new life, yet even these were punctuated with new pavilions and well-kept viridescent gardens with memorials at its centres, a reminder that even though life had been breathed into the city, it had been built upon previous sacrifices of so many. Whilst he cycled through, Francois could not help but think that it may have been too premature to erect such displays so soon. Even he could remember back to times he was conscripted. One of the first in his neighbourhood. It had been many years since all that, yet cycling what was at one point a war-torn hellscape he patrolled with schoolfriends in their ragged uniforms to now see a bustling hub made him feel as though he was experiencing an illusion. There was enough here to convince you those times had passed by, but a creeping sensation of eeriness, like he was expecting a cold drop of water to land on his back, kept him tense as he wound his way through the lively streets.

Crossing one intersection made him join a great build-up of vehicle, bicycle and foot traffic. He sat in the cycle lane with the horde waiting for the light to turn red. Now that the sun had crept over the horizon and bathed the city in its brilliant light, everyone who wanted to enjoy the fresh air and radiance of an early summer's day would make their way to Victory Park. Vendors had set up their food vans all along the footpath just before the entrances to the grand park, creating almost a miniature bazaar as cooks bellowed out what they serving as a means to advertise their street food. Pedestrians wandered down, some partaking and others skirting through the mass of people to head into the park. A constant flow of people went through the marbled archways and followed the path into the expansive green fields. Groups of skaters bobbed through the crowds whilst cyclists snuck between the gaps.

A decadent waft permeated far and wide. Fresh doughnuts and churros emerge from the fryer to then combine with the searing of beef and chicken on the griddle topped off with the faint scent of roasted coffee. Francois stopped at a red light to admire the city awakening but then a couple caught his eye. Holding hands, sipping from their drinks, chatted away and laughed as they stopped by one of the food vans for a bite to eat. He cocked a half-smile at the happy couple even as it felt as though someone had punched his gut. It should have been him and Jennifer out there amongst the crowd, partaking in all the fun and freedoms she allowed everyone in the city to afford.

Yet, there was something more. Subtle at first. Francois scanned the stalls, a scowl of disgust forming on his face. Creeping through all the smell of fried confectionery and food came a hint of fish. He sniffed again. A mere whiff of it made him gag. Someone must have been selling fresh seafood or some catch of the day. He pitied the person trying. Being attacked by the likes of giant walking fish creatures turned most off having any form of seafood. Whatever they were selling had to be incredibly pungent to be detectable above the alluring aroma of so much else.

“For god's sake, move!” Came a loud shout from behind.

The light had turned green and Francois was idly blocking the cycle lane. He pushed away and joined the rest of the cyclists. Yet, no matter how far he went, the scent seemed to follow him.

He arrived at his office and chained up his bike at the nearby rack. The reception was clean and sterile, it looked like the entrance to a hospital. He swiped his card on the security doors and made his way to the elevator, heading up several floors towards one of the spaces designed for all the analysts. The elevator dinged. When the doors parted, Francois excepted madness. Instead, there was silence. Left and right. Rows upon rows of empty desks. Electrical buzzing came from the overhead lighting. There was not another living soul in sight. He glanced over his shoulder at the elevator. Would anyone care if he wasn’t in work. No one else from the office had arrived. Even McKonnig hadn’t bothered from the looks of things. Was he lied to? Was this work really that important that no one had bothered to turn up?

Francois grimaced. Going back now to Jennifer might be a death sentence. Having an enraged girlfriend was one thing, but having one that was so furious that could lose her temper and grow hundreds of feet tall in an instant was another. Better to stay and let her cool off. As he weighed his decision, a wave of fatigue snuck up on him, forcing him to yawn. A quick trip to the kitchen for coffee was in order. He walked left. More of the open desks came into view. Immediately passing by the wall came a small sink, cupboards filled with mugs and metal cups, an ancient microwave and a fridge. A tall hulking coffee machine stood at the end of the row. Somehow, the entire area stunk of fish. Francois cursed that some coworker must have reheated some seafood during a night shift. The office positively wreaked of it. The air was thick with the god-awful waft that he could almost taste it. He could only hope that the air conditioning could suck it away. Spreadsheets were bad enough. Working on the weekend was torture. Combine them with the fact someone pumped through an odour of an entire fish market was something only the devil could conjure up in his most sick and depraved dreams.

The dispenser shot out cheap coffee, more water than caffeine. He took up a seat next to the window. The office overlooked Victory Park. Barely perceptible blips went along the paths. Little paddle boats filled the small lakes. Even this far up, Francois could hear the muffled chatter of so many people enjoying the weekend. With the laptop hooked up to the computer, Francois checked over his emails. A right mess considering the flurry of documentation. He ran his hand down his face. It was going to be a late one. Spreadsheets and notes came up. Managers delegated tasks into chunks for each analyst. With a weary huff, he started to pour over the work. The faster he started, the sooner he would finish. Maybe he could call Jennifer and invite her down to meet him at the park. The stalls would still be open and they could salvage a weekend together. Then again, calling her now could upset her even more. It would prove her point that this did not constitute an emergency if he had the time to call her. He slumped down in his chair and he found a nigh unlimited list of tasks. Pulling up all the programs and data required, he got to work.

A rumble. Francois sat upright. He looked at his watch. An hour had passed. He frowned and wondered if he had felt something at all. A pause. He looked to the window. The office swayed. His chair rattled. He stood up. Another quake came and he stumbled to his side. A creeping sense of worry gripped him. Whilst he wondered if he had felt anything at all, that terrible fish smell overwhelmed him. It rivalled the repugnant scent that Jennifer had brought it. He gagged, coughed and howled obscenities whenever he could. Every passing second it became worse. It was as though an entire ocean’s worth of fish had died and rotted beneath the summer sun. Francois turned green and fought back the overwhelming urge to vomit. It was worse than the night before.  

Then, the lights flickered, computers fell, and panels rained from the ceiling. Like a drunkard, he stumbled about and fought to keep his balance. The worry that some earthquake was hitting the city allowed him to stave off the evergrowing odour of the sea. By the window, Francois blinked. He blinked again. It couldn’t be real. He saw the centre of Victory Park caving in. At first, it looked as though a great sinkhole was forming. The dirt seemed to split wide as though some invisible bomb had struck and was creating some crater in slow motion. Small dots fled as the hole grew wider and wider, consuming more and more. Trees rose, listed and then toppled, falling into sundered earth. Gazebos to stalls, lamp posts to statues, all fell into the evergrowing hole. Cracks formed the breadth, the land itself buckling. Lake water rushed into the gaps. Francois watched the chaos from on high and wanted to run. A primordial sense of survival to turn away from devastation before he urged every fibre of his being to get out of the office struck him. Yet, he stood frozen. Everything from muscle to nerve told him to run. An ear-shattering roar bellowed.

He scrambled. The office felt as though it rocked side to side. It was as if he were no longer in an office, but rather he was now stuck in some poor little ship caught in the middle of a raging storm. He swayed left, he swayed right. Francois stumbled across and passed the kitchen after slamming into the cabinets and sink. Turning the corner, he ran as best he could to the fire exit. The door was shut. The earthquake grew worse. He screamed, he shouted, he cursed. The door did not budge, no matter how much strength he put in. Desks slid across the office floor. Reinforced windows cracked and started to shatter. He kept on pressing the bar to the door. Through the door window, he could see others bundling down the stairs. Francois banged on it, and he screamed for someone, anyone to help.

Everyone ignored him. Another booming roar came. The windows burst. Shard of glass sprayed across the office like shrapnel. A rush of air swept Francois off his feet. Desks, chairs, computers and all manner of equipment went flying out of the office. A panel struck him, sending him flying face first onto the ground. Francois looked out the window, tracking the panel that had hit him as went careening out towards the deathly drop. He then met with something. His mind could not comprehend it at first. Something so tall, so gargantuan that its mere presence made the concrete and steel of the complex shudder in fear. Though he could only glimpse part of it, he knew what it was, but he refused to believe it. It defied reason. It defied logic.

Abysalls only came from the sea.

Claws burst forth from the middle of Victory Park and then latched onto the dirt. The Abyssal pulled its way through, shaking off the earth from its body, bellowing a deep defeating roar as it fully emerged. The creature fixated on an apartment block, a near rival to a terrifying height and marched towards it. It was as tall as any of the skyscrapers or complexes around it. Each heavy earth-shattering step it took shook the ground, a cloud of smoke made from pulverised concrete and dirt wherever its tread landed. Francois heard the crunch and thud, the sound of unsettled earth shifting by the tonnes as it desperately filled in the chasm that the Abyssal had emerged from. Even now, he shook and jolted from the magnitude of the beast's lumbering footfall. The Abyssal marched towards the first real target. It took ten steps, each unleashing a cataclysm upon nature and civilisation, leaving destruction and death with just its mere tread. Such a short stride was more than enough to cover the breadth of the once proud park, now reduced to a wasteland with a gaping hole at its centre. The monster then squared itself against a large modern apartment block that equalled its gargantuan height size.

Lightheaded and dazed, Francois struggled for breath. In his stupor, he tried to comprehend the Abyssal. He could not liken it to the ones seen on television, nor from his time within the army. They always grow larger. Year upon year, fight upon fight, this infernal species became taller and taller. This one was perhaps the apex of its kind. It was far too unique and removed from its predecessors' likeness. Compared to its brethren who were more akin to a madman's attempt to splice together pieces of giant sea life and then slapped onto a hulking frame, this beast was far too uniform in its physique. Rather than an oily black, its thick carapace was a dull white and jagged like a rough cliff face. A mass of blood-red sores bulged upon its hammerhead-like face where its eyes should have naturally been. There were gaps between its carapace, chinks in its otherwise impenetrable armour that revealed the beast's skin. They were filled with what looked like pus, though it looked as if something swam within as if it were a cocoon and the Abyssal's revolting flesh housed nests of tadpoles.

Too terrified to continue staring, he looked behind. The door had not buckled. Despite all the madness, even the walls of the office had not given to afford even the smallest opening he could squeeze through. He was trapped. He then stared below. Francois gawped in horror. Fleeing crowds filled the streets in every direction. From up high, it looked as though ants fled and scattered. A white leg came crashing down onto a mass of people. The creature did not care or even notice all those beneath it, not even deigning to look to see what it was crushing. All it was focused on were the buildings around it. A thunderous gargle erupted. Distorted mocking laughter heralded the creature raising its appendage. Its arms were a writhing mass of yellowy tentacles. At the end were sharp boney protrusions that looked like they had forcibly pierced through the skin of the Abyssal.

A slow swipe. It pierced through the walls of the apartment, cleaving clean through the structure like it was merely passing through water rather than solid concrete and sturdy steel foundations. Francois heard the frame of the apartment shatter and crack. Electrical sparks and fires sputtered from the tower block. Furniture spilt out, joining the waterfall of mutilated debris. Glass, metal, and stone, all trickled down like drops of rain. Francois stared. He could do nothing but watch. Horror mesmerised him as he watched this colossal building being gutted like a fish. Yet, in the haze of chaos and madness, he witnessed something else, something minute within the carnage. It took him a moment to realise just what he was seeing.

Small near indiscriminate dots. Through the devastation, he could see these silhouettes, fleeting shadows obscured by the dull grey cloud. They tumbled out of the building, flailing as they plummeted. Francois’s legs went weak. Fear sapped his strength. Despair rooted him to the spot. He watched as the apartment listed and tilted forward. It roared a death throe, crying a mechanical groan. The top half of the apartment lumbered like a cut tree. It listed and then collapsed down upon itself. A storm of grey dust blanketed the Absyall and the street. It rose as high as the office as it swept across. Francois felt the rush of wind as the tempest enveloped all, save for the Abyssal that revelled in its destructive handiwork.

His heart pounded. It felt like it would burst. Air was hard to come by. Francois gasped in desperation for breath. Cold sweat drenched him. Stress, despair and fear all melded into one. The Abyssal started to move. It turned itself towards his office. He stared at his oncoming oblivion and tensed. Terrified, Francois dreamt. He dreamt of salvation, dreamt that something was going to spare him from the same fate as those who plummeted to their deaths. His terror-addled mind spat out illusory hopes. Jennifer was just around the corner. Maybe the Harrower or the Empress was barreling down the street to meet the Abyssal head-on. They had to be waiting for something. An opening or an ambush to kill the creature in one swift blow. A glimmer of hope in a sea of darkness. However faint, he needed something to cling onto. Anything, no matter how minute or insane it might seem. A wild fantasy, however ludicrous, was infinitely better than accepting what was to come. When the abomination moved to overshadow the office block, looming over it like an executioner, all his hopes of being saved were dispelled.

Francois fumbled for the phone in his pocket. It was hard to press on the screen. His fingers shook. He summoned all the might he could. He would see this through. He owed it to Jennifer. For what it was worth in those flickering moments of life, Francois did not want their last shared moments of theirs to be a petty argument.

The phone rang for what seemed an eternity. It went to voicemail. His heart sank. Knots were formed in his stomach. Francois gulped. It felt like swallowing a shard of glass.

“J-Jenn?” He stuttered. Francois felt parched, his body using up all his water to drench him in terror-induced sweat. “Jennifer, it's me.”

The Abyssal roared. Francois’s ears rang. He could not hear anything save for a piercing ringing. His head ached from the pain.

“I’m stuck in the office. There’s an Abyssal at Victory Park. It’s…”

A crash. The monstrosity kept on stepping forward. Its weight made the building rock. Francois gripped the phone tight.

“Listen, I’m… uhh… stuck in the office. The door is stuck. I’m stuck at the top and I can’t get out. I-”

A thud. A dirge of metal being torn asunder filled the air. Screams mixed with the sound of another structure collapsing. The Abyssal, distracted by its accidental demolition, howled again, its ear-piercing cry an otherworldly groan of victory. It bought precious seconds.

“I just want to see you again and I want you to-.”

A shadow grew over the floor. The rank smell of fish overwhelmed his senses. The Abyssal turned its attention and its wrath towards him. Francois remained at the edge. The beast was beyond comprehension, a nightmare spawned from the foulest and unknowable depths. A perversion of all nature. For a moment, he felt as though the being stared directly at him, its red bulging eyes locking to the one lone figure stuck in the building. Trembling, he met with its gaze. He glimpsed into bottomless malice, a stare that radiated a primordial hatred for all life.

Time slowed. A thousand thoughts raced. Whilst he stared at the writhing mass that was the monstrosity’s mutilated mutation of tentacle and claw, he saw only images of Jennifer. Her warm inviting smile. Her lounging on the couches. Her posing in that stupid costume. He remembered the pier where they met. How it felt like the weight of the world was lifted just by her presence. Together with her, the mania of life became simpler. So many memories from across their years together. They flooded him all at once. All that time together. All those tiny insignificant moments by each other's side. It was all fleeting, like the fading embers of a smouldering flame. In those final moments, he could feel the cold creeping in. There was only regret. Regret he did not have more time.

“I want you to know how much I love you Jenn.”

The claw came hurtling down. Francois closed his eyes.

Thunder clapped. A shockwave and a concussive blast flung Francois back from the precipice, tossing him like he were nothing more than a ragdoll. He crashed onto the floor, rolling along the dust-covered ruins of the office. His vision was blurry. The world split into several different versions of itself. Fresh blood trickled down his head, his clothes were rent and worn, turning more into rags. He groaned. Every muscle ached in his body. There were cuts all over, wounds that he ignored thanks to the rush of adrenaline. Yet, there was something else outside the office, something that rivalled the Abyssal. Another blast came and he heard a skull-rattling roar. The structure quaked. Parts of the floor beneath him began to crumble. Francois, his mind whirling and body battered, stood up and moved towards the edge once more.

A white costumed woman with a flowing mane of red hair. She was as tall as the Abyssal she challenged. Her muscles bulged against her tight suit as she grabbed the creature's arm. A booming crack erupted. Her vice-like grip snapped the Abyssal's wrist. Glowing gore stained her costume. The beast whirled, letting loose an eldritch scream as it tried to free itself from her grasp. With a punch, the towering woman sent the Abyssal stumbling backwards. The giant looked over her shoulder. Francois locked eyes with Jennifer. If he had found insight into the fathoms of hatred with the Abyssal, Francois found the depths of love and compassion in Jennifer. Her momentary shock turned into a stunned broad smile. Her golden pupils glistened beneath the radiant sun, her rose-red hair fluttered in the breeze. Francois fell to his knees, fighting back the urge to weep.

“J-Jenn…” He stammered.

"Fran-"

The rumbling of heavy footfall. Jennifer turned. The Abyssal swung its unbroken arm, striking her in the shoulder. She stumbled to her side and then face-first into the office. Jennifer came ploughing through unimpeded. The floor, ceiling, all the bits of furniture still left, all of it fell away as Jennifer collided with the building. Francois saw her falling towards him. He tried to run as best he could, but his legs were too sapped of energy. He hobbled like a limp man but then was thrown from his feet. Francois tumbled. His vision was blurred by the chaos and calamity all around him. All of the office came crashing down upon him. Then, for a brief moment, he felt as though he were flying. Air rushed by him. There was no longer solid ground beneath him. Falling fast, he then smashed hard onto something hard. A sickening snap came from his shoulder and he screamed in pain. He began to roll. By the time his sight returned to normalcy, Francois was now sliding down Jennifer’s costume. It tipped down like he was tumbling down a hill. So much of the building fell with him, some parts striking him as if to help speed him towards his demise. He shifted onto his front, desperately attempting to cling to something. Yet, her costume was too slick, too tightly adhered to her muscular body to offer him any crack or nook to forestall the drop he was hurtling towards.

Just when it appeared he would fall off her, a giant hand came and scooped him up.

The Abyssal howled, beating its chest like a gorilla as Jennifer recovered. It's damaged appendage flailed about. Jennifer opened her hand. It was a miracle to collect Francois before he slid down her breast and plummeted to his death. He was far too tiny, so small to her eye, it was hard to even see him. With all the wreckage that came out of the office, finding him was like spotting a falling needle in a haystack. When she saw a limp body soaked in blood, Jennifer froze. She thought he was sleeping or resting. He was still. Too still.

Francois's vision blurred. The pain was unbearable. Every bone fractured, every muscle torn. Francois felt blood slather his face. It trickled down. A terrible arctic cold crept up on him. He blinked. His eyes became heavier. Breathing became a war. Every inhale was a battle that drained him further. He was on something but could not tell what. A dull ringing filled his ears. Fatigue overwhelmed. He fought, he raged, trying to summon some final bit of strength. He would not close his eyes. Not now. He heard the distant voice of Jennifer. It seemed miles away. He was too tired to respond. Francois gaze weakly turned. He gazed at Jennifer's face. Her eyes and mouth were wide with shock and terror. There wasn't enough strength left to smile at her. He could only promise to himself that he would only close his eyes for a moment.

“F-Francois?” Her bass-ladened voice carried far.

He did not stir.

Something boiled within. She clenched her free hand. Her knuckles cracked. Her nails dug into her palm. Every muscle tensed. White-hot fury. Pure blood-boiling rage. She gritted her teeth. It was taking every ounce of willpower to hold herself back. It was too much for her to control. Jennifer could only imagine what she was about to unleash. She scanned the area. The authorities had saved everyone they could. Police and ambulance crews were escorting or carrying the stragglers through the dust clouds and safer passages. The Abyssal took advantage of her pause. Sore swelled in the cracks of the monstrosity's carapace. They burst open. Luminescent pus flowed and small creatures trickled off the Abyssal. Pale arachnids with sharp spine-like tails with glowing red eyes lept from their host. They lept and showered onto the ruins and debris below. Like a swarm of locusts, they went about devouring and feasting on whatever they could find. Corpses and wounded stragglers who were too slow to run were set upon. The beast laughed, gurgling to itself in triumph, mocking the Titaness. Jennifer felt her anger spike. The Abyssal swayed to keep balance. A rumble overpowered the creature. The fury of the Titaness erupted.

A metallic groan echoed across the city. Those who heard the battle from far away stared on in amazement and terror. Something was growing, larger and larger with each passing moment. It eclipsed everything around it and still, it grew larger. The ground strained to cope with the welling mass. As it grew, the groan became more powerful, forcing everyone to cover their ears. Vehicles rattled, glass shattered, and people collapsed, forced to tremble on the floor unable to withstand the quaking beneath them. Cracks in the roads began to form, and buildings shook. The metallic groan transformed. It took on more bass, transforming into a terrifying roar.

When it had finally stopped, a giant beyond any other rose like a newly formed mountain at the heart of the city. It towered above all, overshadowing the mightiest of the skyscrapers still left standing. They barely rose to the giant’s ankles. Jennifer panted. She looked down. The city she stood in looked like nothing more than a small patch of shaved grey grass. It was all so flat, so minute. Beyond was the sea and behind were the winding paths of the highways over green fields that led deeper inland. All this from a loss of control. All that rage pouring out. It still welled even now, urging her to grow taller, pleading with her to reach heights unfathomed by man or Abyssal. She would look down on all of it, she would have the strength to undo entire armies of Abyssal with a single step. Nothing could stop her. All the power was there. All she had to do was let go.

Her mind was centred, and her attention turned to her palm. Francois was no longer there, too small to even be perceptible to her. Just how much had she grown, Jennifer thought to herself. How many hundreds or even thousands of feet in just mere moments? She knew he was there still. Her lover, all torn apart because she was not fast enough, not powerful enough to stop the Abyssal in time. That Abyssal. Her ire focused. She started down. A meagre dot stood by her toe. It had been pushed, caught by her growing foot, yet somehow it survived being caught underneath her. The breadth of Victory Park was now totally beneath her feet. From the brown wasteland at the centre to the destroyed offices and apartments on the edge of the park. Jennifer dominated it all through sheer magnanimity.

Squatting down, she plucked the Abyssal like the speck it was. Her fingers dwarfed the nearby structures, the tip of her finger larger than even the proudest feats of engineering. Jennifer's weight made her mere movements enough to quake the city. She felt the air drag and resist against her. Nature itself was actively fighting her at this height. All of the city would no doubt gape in horror as the sky came falling down on them. Seeing a thick shapely ass that spanned an entire metropolis squatting above you could easily do that. How many citizens would stare upwards and realise how powerless they were? All of them would be drowned in her shadow, forced into near total darkness as her gargantuan form blocked out the very sun. They screamed in terror at the monolithic woman whose ass hovered above them as she squatted, looming above as if threatening to crush them all beneath her cheeks.

Jennifer paid the meek cries no mind to it. All there was now was hatred, the desire for revenge. Jennifer caught the Abyssal between her finger and her thumb. She brought it to her eye. This fetid murdering brute. All it knew was how to reap death. The abomination screamed. It's mewling was high-pitched and utterly insignificant to the now thousands of feet tall Titaness. Jennifer grimaced as she slowly squeezed the Abyssal. It howled, writhing and fighting against her finger. With one final bellow that welled louder and louder, the creature suddenly popped like a balloon, spraying glowing gore and viscera on Jennifer's digits. That once great Abyssal was reduced to pulp, along with all its wretched spawn. The most mighty of its kind, crushed to death between a woman's fingers.

She huffed. Exhaling that much air parted the clouds, sending a weak storm blustering through the city. Jennifer shrunk herself back down. Her rage simmered. Dread, sharp as a knife, welled instead. Her stomach churned. A whine echoed. She focused on Francois as came back into view. He went from a speck, to as big as a grain of rice, a doll then back to his normal height. The city around became larger around her until she was surrounded by the ruined concrete jungle. She held Francois’s limp body. Blood oozed from his scalp, drenching his pale face. His eyes were closed shut. All of his clothes were cut to ribbons. Cuts and grazes abounded. Without her fury, despair overwhelmed her. She refused to believe it. Francois was merely stuck in a deep sleep. It was why he did not wake as she gently shook him. Any moment now, their eyes would meet. He wouldn't be so cold, so limp. She fought the tears as best she could. They dripped onto his blood-soaked face.

“No no no…” Jennifer stammered out. She gently stroked his pallid face.

Emergency services bounded onto the scene in an instant. Police to medics, national guard to firefighters, they all came scrambling in to find more survivors. Terrified as they were from the giant that once stood in Victory Park, they still had a job to do. The climb up stalled their advance. Jennifer's growing form had caused her feet to push dirt, earth and churned concrete aside, forming steep hills. They pushed onwards and the first over saw a blasted hellscape. Abyssal gore splattered across brown mud. Piles of rubble were strewn about from collapsed buildings. Smoke bellowed, fires raged. Sirens blared. Cries for help and screams rang out. The once grand Victory Park was now reduced to a warzone. Some came bounding over, sliding down the hill into the epicentre of chaos, organising themselves and directing their efforts to begin rescuing anyone left.

A group of medics came running towards a woman drenched in strange ichor that hummed a turquoise blue. One of them placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Its okay ma'am, we can hel-"

It took the man a moment to realise he was shaking the Titaness, Abyssal Hunter, the heroine of the city, back to her senses. She was tightly hugging a blood-drenched man, brushing the dust that had turned his brown locks a filthy grey. She buried her face deep into his chest as she rocked back and forth. The medics paused, stunned into silence.

The Titaness whimpered. She shook, her hands trembled as she gripped the rags that were once the man's clothes. The Titaness rose her head and looked upwards. Dark clouds formed above. Jennifer cried out in despair.

Seagulls swarmed overhead, cawing incessantly. Ocean waves crashed onto the rocks. White foam came flooding over a metal railing. The beach below was deserted of life. Long jagged spikes were embedded into that sand. They all pointed towards the sea and stretched from one part of the seaside to the next. In the middle were gargantuan footprints in the shape of craters. Within the hole were the destroyed remnants of the spikes. Sea water pooled in. Dead fish formed a macabre layer of scum on top. Fresh salt sea air melded with the stench of rot and decay. Where the sea once promised excitement, of unbound opportunities beyond awaiting across the horizon, now it only hid horrors deep within its bowels. 

Behind the seafront was a half-ruined city. Toppled over structures lay strewn like felled trees in a forest, detailing a path of destruction. Helicopters hovered around the pulverised corpse of an Abyssal, its mutilated body half buried in a tipped-over tower that it collapsed onto when it lost its head. Distant cries of orders came. Engine turbines roared. Jet engines howled. Plumes of black smoke dotted the landscape all of which combined to form a dark cloud above. Francois held up his hand to block the one ray of sun that had somehow penetrated through and temporarily blinded him. It felt like someone was sticking a light directly into his eye. Despite all the chaos within the city behind him, he fixated on a costumed woman with red flowing hair. She was leaning over the railing, staring off at the horizon. It was as if nothing in the world were more important than looking at the sea.

“Hey there…” Francois approached the woman with trepidation.

There was a suffocating silence. As he stood there awkwardly, he realised just how heavy his gear had become. Stepping towards the railing, he unslung his rifle, took off his helmet and dropped both on the floor. They landed and clattered with a hard thud. He rubbed his buzz-cut hair to wipe away the sweat. He felt thankful to take off that godforsaken helmet. There was a constant beeping punctuated by a faint whisper. Even now he could hear it ringing in his ears. He would be thankful whenever the engineers decided to fix that annoying issue. Hell would be a preferable alternative rather than having to listen to that infernal beeping for all eternity. Francois put it out of his mind and focused on the woman. It was the reason he was still here after all. Yet, she remained still and utterly inanimate. Whilst she tried to appear aloof, her eyes scanned the sea. She was a vigilant warden watching the waves.

He looked to his right and attempted to engage her in conversation. “What you did back there-”

“Just doing my job.” She sliced straight to the point and kept her focus on the ocean.

“Right… Hell of a job you got," Francois mused.

The pause lasted an eternity. They both looked out to the sea. The waves were near storm-like in their surge and strength. Dark clouds suffocated the few bits of light that had managed to sneak through.

“Look," Francois turned to her, "I wanted to say-”

She groaned and shook her head in annoyance "say what?”

Francois shrugged. “Thank you is all.”

The woman turned her head. His eyes met with hers. They burned an unnatural gold. He squirmed beneath her gaze. Francois found it unnaturally terrifying about seeing an impeccably sculpted face scowling at him with such scorn and disdain. Then, Francois huffed. He leaned harder on the railing for support, exhausted from it all. Exhausted from the fight, exhausted from the fear. All he wanted now was to rest, but this was something he felt compelled to do.

“We all heard the rumours, about you and the rest of the lasses. I thought it was a joke if I’m honest. Who the hell thinks some giant woman is going to come running down the street, leap over your lines and then punch a hundred-foot fish thing in the face? No one sane, that's who.”

She remained fixated, eyeing with great intent.

He laughed weakly to himself. “I wouldn’t believe it if I saw it. I still don’t believe it and I saw you. A massive woman, big as the bloody buildings around her, charging straight ahead. At first, I thought there was another one of those things coming, but when I saw you running up to that thing that was chewing straight through us and then seeing you tear its head off with that right hook I...”

Francois paused. “I don’t know. I felt something. Felt like cheering or thanking God or something. Something. But I don't know what exactly.”

Speaking it aloud made him realise his luck. “Relief I suppose. Just relief. Christ, I probably wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you turning up, jumping in and pulling all of our asses out of the fire. You saved a hell of a lot of lives, mine included.” 

Francois slumped. It felt as though the railing was the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the floor. “God, look, I’m sorry for rambling. Saying thanks doesn’t do justice for what you did today.” 

A wisp of a frown came and went on the woman’s statuesque face. “Don’t mention it.”

Francois shrugged. He felt he had to say something to her. At the very least, he owed him her thanks, both for him and the guys and gals beside him. One second he and his squadmates stared at a giant creature, the next an athletic beauty of equal size leapt over their lines, decimating it with a single mighty strike. No warning, no climatic showdown. The beast was there one moment, and the next, it was missing its head. It was difficult to believe this woman was able to do that, harder still to see her at a normal height. 

“I thought you should know is all. I know everyone is giving you the cold shoulder, but that's because we’re a salty bunch. It was a bad day for us, but everyone will warm up eventually.”

He chuckled grimly. “Give it time and you’ll probably hear them cheering for you when you come bounding down the street.”

Her scowl deepened and turned away from him. She did not look convinced in the slightest. 

Francois pulled a beer out of his pouch. He had several more stashed away. They were supplies procured from the quartermasters without their knowing. With how scarce beer was, or any alcohol for that fact, pilfering such items could constitute a hanging offence. So much had become scarce thanks to the Abyssals. Beer, even the cheapest sort, was luxury worth its weight in gold. Francois cracked one open. With a sudden hiss, a torrent of beer exploded forth with the force of a hand grenade. By the time he had realised his folly, all of his face was drenched in lukewarm alcohol. The woman’s stoicism weakened. She pursed her lips to stifle a giggle. Francois wiped himself clean, revealing his cheeks were now glowing red with embarrassment.

Francois grabbed a can from another pocket, “want one?”  

“I could be tempted...” A sly smile formed on her face, “is it going to explode when I open it?”

He grinned. “No guarantees.”

She popped the top. A quaint hiss, but no explosion. She downed the beer in one swig, crushed the can and chucked it into the sea. Francois watched in awe as the can hurtled away far off as she launched it with such strength and speed that it disappeared from his view in an instant. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Thanks for that.” 

Francois nursed his beer pensively after the display, taking slow sips, "least I could do for the woman who saved my ass. I’ve got a few extra if you want some more you know.” 

She nodded. Francois gave her one more. A crack, hiss and then foam formed on top. She took her time and took measured draughts, following Francois's pace. “You army boys sure know how to treat a lady.”

He bowed his head in an exaggerated courtly manner. “I try my best.”   

He extended his hand to the woman. “Francois, 24th Infantry.” 

She shook it. There was power behind her, as much as she tried to disguise it. Any harder, he might end up being flung into the sky to join the seagulls. Worse still, she could have thrown him far across the horizon to join wherever that beer car went. At last, he glimpsed the strength that afforded her the ability to slay an Abyssal with a mere punch. Alongside shattering most of the windows in the city. The blast of her punch was enough to suck the air out of the lungs of the entire platoon. They’ll be finding cracks in the foundations of most buildings for weeks to come thanks to that shockwave.

“Titaness, Abyssal Hunter.”

“Titaness?” Francois smirked. “Odd name for your parents to give you.”

She rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. “It’s a moniker moron. If you want my real name, it's going to take a lot more beers to coax it out.”

“Oh, so you're telling me my charm and charisma isn’t enough?”

She tried her hardest to contain her grin, "maybe it is, maybe it isn't."

They exchanged deep smiles with one another, their eyes locking. The waves behind started to die down and list against the rockface. Sunlight broke through the dark shroud. One of the rays caught her face, causing the Titaness’s eyes to sparkle like twinkling gemstones. Francois felt a surge of energy he never felt before. Even with all the despair of the day, looking into her eyes and her soft smiling face rejuvenated him. A trio of jets came screaming past, the furious roar of their engines snapping them both out of their trance. They turned back to their drinks instead.

“Well then, how about beer and some food back at base? Would that be enough to convince you, Miss Titaness?” 

“A dinner date already?” She scoffed. “You move quick.”

“I don’t know if you would call sharing an MRE ration and some warm beer I took from the quartermasters a dinner date.”

She tittered. “I could lower my expectations.” 

Francois shrugged, nursing his warm beer. "Women always do for me."

The Titaness snorted in amusement. 

“Hey, how about this. When it's all this shit has settled, I can take you somewhere fancy. A token of my appreciation for saving me and my squadmate's lives.”

The Titaness soured. It took Francois by surprise. She seemed more distant, more icy and reserved than before. “You think it will?”

“Will what?”

“Settle. You think things will go back to normal?”

“Course it will.” 

The Titaness looked at the desolation. So much destruction was wrought, even with the might of the military trying to stem the creature's advance. All those lost, all those who sacrificed everything. All that toil and struggle, and still their home was reduced to rubble. It was barely a city anymore, more a long and winding graveyard where rescuers were exhuming the remains of the fallen from. She looked back at Francois.

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno.” He rested his back on the railing, now surveying the aftermath of the battle, “I believe it, that's all.”

She huffed a weary sigh. “How can you believe that? Look at what one of them did here, what they are doing everywhere. You think it's all going to be normal one day?”

“I don’t think it's ever going to be normal again. But you gotta believe things will go back to some form of normalcy right? You can’t think we are going to spend all our days slogging through shit.”

The Titaness grimaced and gazed at the sea, “I’m not so sure.”

Francois joined her. They both looked out over the sea. “Got believe it will come, otherwise wants the point you know? I dunno when this will end, but I’m sure it will happen someday at some point. We'll get through it.”

She turned to Francois. His cheeks were red, his speech slurred from all the beer. A complete lightweight. She smiled. Either he was an optimist or delusional, but it was nice to hear someone speaking of better times to come, even if he was a bit too far into his alcohol. A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

“And one day, you won't need to wear that outfit.” 

She sulked. “I like it you know.”

“I guess someone has to. But it looks so…” Francois squinted. The suit was horribly white all over. It was unbelievably sterile that it barred on grotesque.

“Boring.”

“My suit looks boring? You think my suit looks boring?” Her brow furrowed, processing Francois's comment as if it were the stupidest remark she had ever heard.

“Yeah!” Francois took a hearty swig of his beer. His cheeks went redder still. He then began pointing at different parts of her costume. “Maybe get some colour on there, like patterns or something. Some purples or oranges that go with that red hair of yours!” 

The Titaness huffed. She hid her half grin as best she could. “I’m getting fashion advice from a jarhead… Where did my life go so wrong…” 

She did inspect herself, however. She tensed her bicep, tracing a finger over in a straight line and nodding in consideration. A pattern may spruce things up a tad over a plain white costume.

“It went wron-" he hiccuped, "wrong when you let a blind man design that suit.”

She chuckled, yet it was tinged with a hint of exhaustion. “Maybe it went wrong earlier than that…”

The Titaness stared off, caught in a silent reflection as she rubbed the back of her neck. Francois saw surgical scars at the nape. He then noticed smaller marks on her hand and feet. They looked recent but it was hard for him to estimate. The skin was still somewhat pink, meaning it had perhaps not fully healed. Yet, it was clear some sort of sharp instrument was used to make what looked to be incisions. When she touched the scar, a luminescent glow hummed for a moment beneath her skin. Francois blinked, unsure of what he saw. He wondered just how many of those little scars were being conveniently disguised by her outfit. 

“Anyways,” she focused back on him, “it’s the only thing that doesn’t tear when I grow.” 

Francois’s head bobbed from side to side. “Hadn’t considered that.” 

The waves behind died down and the far cries of military might seemed to be more distant. Both of them rested on the railing, sipping their beers. 

“Wait…” Francois looked stumped. He had the expression of a confounded caveman. “What do you mean, grow?”

“You know…” The Titaness tensed. Her muscles bulged. A horrific metallic groaning emanated. She shot up several feet and then loomed over Francois. Her new weight caused the railing she leant on to buckle and bend back. Seeing it before him struck fear into his heart. It defied all logic and reasoning. She was just willing herself to gain height. Francois couldn’t rationalise it.

“Like that.” Her voice carried far more strength now, enough to make Francois feel every enunciation. There was a sly smirk that stretched from ear to ear.

“W-What the-?” The colour drained from his face. All the alcohol in his system dissipated at the sight of the towering woman. She wasn’t as tall as beforehand, but having her standing directly over him was make him tremble.

She tittered. Each gentle laugh made his chest rumble. The Titaness squatted down. Francois came barely to her hips in height. “You’re acting as if you’ve never seen a woman have a growth spurt before.” 

“I-I…” Francois gulped. A drop of cold sweat trickled down his head. “I haven’t.” 

The Titaness sighed. The groan came again. Francois instinctively grabbed his helmet but was unable to save his rifle in time. He was forced to step back as she grew unless he wanted to be inadvertently crushed. He went from her hips down to barely her calf muscle in an instant. The rifle snapped as it buckled and then disappeared beneath her foot. She was biting her lip hard, her hands were gripped tight on her brawny thighs, digging deep into her outfit. Her physique engorged, her brawn becoming thicker and more defined. The ground beneath cracked under the strain as her bare feet bored. In the next instant, Francois was below her ankle comparatively when her growth spurt stopped. Her breathing was rapid, frantic almost. Each huff blasted Francois such that he had to battle her to stay upright.

“God that feels good.” Her voice was rife with bass. It was enough to make his skull rattle from its strength. When her senses returned, she looked down at Francois. Her cheeks reddened. He stared in awe.

“O-Oh!” She closed her eyes and shot back down in height. Instead of the groan, there was a pathetic whine. 

He regained control of his breathing and wiped his head. “Fucking hell…”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” She blurted out, tripping over her own words.

“Not that, my rifle!” He pointed to the shattered and thoroughly flattened pieces of what once constituted a weapon.

“Huh?... You… Weren’t scared?” She stuttered out. 

“Not really…” Francois shrugged. He played it cool. There was still a hint of fear, more so from being face to face with something so big when it had just equalled him in height mere moments ago. The adjustment from woman to giant woman and back again was tough to fathom. Whatever sorcery or science allowed her to do that, he did not wish to know or even pry.

“More shocked is all. I mean, it isn’t every day you see a woman grow that tall right in front of you." 

The Titaness beamed the heartiest grin Francois had ever seen. She laughed in relief. “Glad to hear it. Most are pretty terrified. Understandable really…” She rubbed her wrist. 

“Why?” He wandered over to collect the bits of his rifle scattered in the footprint. He sighed in defeat. There was a crushed can of beer pancaked flat, its contents leaking out to form a puddle.

Francois felt remorse that such precious alcohol did not survive the onslaught. “Why would anyone be scared of you? Well, apart from those Abyssals.”

The twinkle in her eyes shone like the brightest star. Her grin grew even wider. Francois lent on the buckled railing as best he could.

"You’re still a woman is all. Well, one who can defy science and grow," he pulled out another beer from his pouch. “oh yeah, and one that can K.O a hundred or so foot tall walking fish from the sea."

"You make it sound like you meet those kinds of women all the time."

"Not all the time," Francois cracked open the beer and smiled. "But I am happy to have met one in particular."

"Oh? And who might that be?" She smiled coyly. The Titaness rested by him. They were shoulder to shoulder.

"If you tell me your name, I'll let you in on that secret."

"Hmm..." she pondered for a moment. She rubbed her chin in an overexaggerated manner.

Radio static built up from the headset of his helmet. Orders then came blaring out. Francois pinched his forehead in frustration.

“Ah shit, I got to bolt. Sarge will have my ass for dinner if he finds out I dipped.” He grabbed the scattered parts of his rifle and strapped his helmet back on. Francois downed his beer and threw the can. It joined all the wreckage and ruin scattered about in the street.

He took out the other beers from his pouches as he started walking away. Two more precious beers. Part of him wanted to keep them for later. Instead, Francois turned and chucked them at the Titaness. She grabbed them with her usual accuracy, not even for a moment taking her eyes off Francois. He hadn’t noticed just how hard she was biting her lip. 

“Take em’. Compliments from myself and the 27th!”

There was a strange pulsating beeping in his ear. Radio fault no doubt he imagined. Those lazy engineers still hadn’t solved the problem. Strange that he hadn’t noticed it more.  He went back down the ruined remains of the street, trudging over the remains of a blown-out apartment, snaking past all the furniture that scattered the war-torn street. As he marched across the rubble into the destroyed city, the Titaness called out behind.

“W-Wait!”

He looked over his shoulder. The Titaness blushed. She twiddled with her hair and looked at her feet. If she bit her lip any harder, she could have made it bleed.

She finally looked up and cried out, “it’s Jennifer!” 

Francois smiled, "well then Jennifer, me and the lads owe you!” 

He gave a two-fingered salute, “Beers are on you next time right?”

Jennifer huffed, “you were meant to be taking me out to dinner next time!”

“I said when it's all settled!” He threw his arms out around, “does this look settled to you?”

“If you come by the barracks, I got some coffee, cheese spread and some crackers we could share if you are really that desperate!”

“Deal!” She shouted back.  

He laughed heartily.

"Guess I'll be seeing you later Titaness!"

Jennifer nodded. Then she grew. That roar of metallic groaning. Francois watched her explode up in height. It should have terrified him as it did before. Instead, he felt a sense of protection and relief. She was beyond a force of nature. A woman with overwhelming strength. To her, he would look no more like a little bug scurrying on the floor, something weak, fragile and easily trood upon. Yet, she beamed the brightest smile at him and returned the two-finger salute. It was hard for him to believe that this woman had been so icy minutes ago.

“And I'll be seeing you.” She then turned away from him and walked down the beachfront. Francois felt the strength of her footfalls dissipated over time. He was no longer hopping on the spot thanks to the weight of her tread. It quietened down as she went further away. Scratching his head, Francois turned towards the ruined city. 

He slid down a pile of rubble and went deeper into the desolation. So many abandoned buildings. Empty restaurants, shops and apartments. It felt like he had just wandered into a ghost town. Then came that infernal beeping. He couldn’t hear anything save for the beeping. No orders, no blare of military vehicles. The radio beep grew stronger. His head spun. Francois looked around. There was nothing save for winding roads littered with debris. They seemed to stretch and bend off onto the horizon. There were no jets overhead, no blare of tank engines, no barking of orders or the march of soldiers from afar. It was utterly still. There wasn’t even any wind blowing through. He looked back to where Jennifer was. He couldn’t hear the ocean or those annoying gulls. It was as though the entire world had died.

Then, blood trickled down his face. Francois touched his head. How had he not noticed the wound? Why was it bleeding now? He looked at his hands, down his body. His uniform was torn to shreds. Cuts, bruises, gashes all over. A light emerged over the mound of rubble he had just crossed. Like a bedazzled moth, he felt drawn to it. A gentle breeze brushed him, boosting him towards it. He heard something on the wind. A whisper, so subtle and faint, it melded with the breeze he felt.

“W-What?” Francois staggered. His legs went weak and fell onto the floor. He looked around. There was nothing. No street, no bits of rubble, no ruined buildings around him. Just the light that now sat on the horizon. He crawled towards it, but it became dimmer as though the dawn was being suffocated by endless night. His eyes were heavy. A growing desire to sleep ambushed him. When his eyelids began to shut, the beeping became mercifully quieter, the light dimming.

Francois rested upon a bed of nothingness. He felt cold. Afraid. Tired. Then came warmth. The void enveloped him. No more worries, no more fears. It tempted him to simply let go and become one with it. With fleeting strength, he forced his body to crawl to the light, reaching out with bloodied hand to grasp the waning embers. He knew the whisper. It called to him like a siren. When he reached out, the light slipped from his grasp, flying off further into the night. He crawled towards it, refusing to give in. One of his shoulders then went limp, forcing him to drag himself across the emptiness with one hand. He grunted, pulling his body. As he got closer to the light, the more his muscles howled in agony. All this pain came rocketing through him. It felt like he was being bathed in acid. Every nerve ending screamed. Yet, he pushed forward to the light. He knew something was waiting there. Francois knew there was someone waiting there. He stretched out and grabbed the light.

Then, as though he were witness to the explosive birth of a new sun, all the darkness was swept away in a tide of dazzling light. He was blinded, until a menagerie of colour flooded his view. It swirled and swayed as though he were drunk. When it settled, he could, at last, make out that a thin blue curtain surrounded him. Francois couldn't even turn his head. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a blood bag and an IV drip hanging by his bedside. A machine tracked vitals. Another was a huge box connected to a tube that led to a respirator that was firmly attached to his mouth. Wires ran from the contraption and into his left arm. Thin tubes were inserted all across him. A wireframe was attached to his shoulder. His left arm was wrapped in a cast. He scanned to his right. Beyond the edge of the bed was the top of a chair. Francois groaned. 

A silhouette formed beyond the curtain. A nurse flung it back. A squat fat lady in light blue sortie gear inspected a clipboard thick with papers. Her brown eyes met with Francois. She then darted off. When she came back. she returned with a portly black man in a white overcoat. They muffled something. He saw their lips move but no sound came. There was a ringing, a godforsaken drone that dominated his hearing. The duo then left. In the corner of this white room was a small television screen. At first, it seemed too far away but the blur dissipated. There were images of a ruined city. Flashes of wreckage. From on high it looked like two great footprints were stamped into the middle of a metropolis. The screen flickered. Other giant women were on the television fighting in a concrete jungle of so many buildings. His eyes stung with a dull throbbing pain.

“M-Ma’am, you need to wait!”

Footsteps pattered. Francois drew upon all of his willpower to turn his head. He met with the rose-red-haired figure. Jennifer halted at the door, stunned in shock. She looked hollow. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and her hair was tattered and wild. She sprinted across, near enough throwing the nurse and doctor aside to sit beside him. Jennifer held Francois’s head. Tears streamed down her face. It looked as though she had not slept for days.

“I thought-” She tried to speak. Her voice cracked, choking on her tears. Words lodged in her throat. Jennifer ran her hand across Francois’ cheek. She wept. A mechanical groan came. Jennifer began to grow, her baggy clothes tightening around her athletic frame. Her tanktop and pyjama pants adhered against her athletic frame. The staff around watched in awe as she shot up in height. A whine came from the hospital bed as it began to buckle beneath her increasing weight.

Francois returned a fragile smile. Jennifer wiped away her tears. Her growth abated, having almost doubled in height.

“I…” Francois’s words were meek. His throat was scratchy. It felt as though he had been deprived of water for all of his life. 

Jennifer loomed over him. She moved in closer to listen.

“I...” He brought all his might to bear to lift his arm. All the weight of the world seemed to rest on him. All that might he conjured was barely enough to point a finger toward the television screen.

She gazed over her shoulder. Jennifer looked defeated, shrinking into herself as the footage rolled. “Don’t…”

"M-Ma'am, you need to let him rest." The doctor came beside Jennifer. He hunched over himself, intimated by the Amazon-like woman in front of him.

She turned slowly. Her dark scowl could terrify statues into running from her. The doctor and nurse stepped back, fearful of her. Jennifer's voice barely veiled her anger, "He's just woken up and you want me to leave him?" 

Her knuckles cracked as her hand balled into a fist. "I am not leaving him, not now, not ever."

The doctor somehow stood resolute against the near twenty-foot-tall Jennifer whose head was bumping against the ceiling. "P-Please ma'am, he's just barely awoken from a month-long coma. He's going to be confused... disorientated. He may not fully understand exactly what has happened to him or where he is. We don't want him going into shock, relapsing or worse." 

Jennifer went to speak then halted. She looked down at her feet instead.

"Let him rest. Him opening his eyes and speaking after so long is a good sign, but we will need to monitor him to make sure there will be no short or long-term issues to his recovery."

She sighed in frustration. A whine came as she shrunk down in height. Her clothes were slightly torn at the seams. "I understand doc. I'm sorry about that, it's just..." 

"I understand ma'am, but he'll pull through. If he's recovering from his coma this early, your man is clearly as tough as they come. I have full confidence he'll pull through this, as you will."

Jennifer smiled at the doc. She looked over Francois. He had fallen back to sleep. The sight of so many medical instruments plugged into him broke her heart. Ventilator, respirator, IV drip, blood bag, heart monitor. He was more machine than man. Then there were all the Ilizarov frames bound to his legs. Along his head was one long stitch where falling rubble from his office torn a gash in his head. There were numerous other scars covered by his hospital gown. Jennifer rubbed her nape.

"Thank you, but can I stay with him for just a while longer?" 

The doctor looked at his assistant, who hesitantly nodded. He said, "It is outside visiting hours, but we can make an exception, considering the extraordinary circumstances. When the night care nurses come, you will need to leave him and return in the morning."

Jennifer nodded and sat down on the chair next to the bed. The doctor and nurse let her be as they departed the ward. Jennifer gripped his hand, wrapped her fingers around his and then leaned on the bed. The pumping of the ventilator and the beeping on the monitor that so annoyed her were drowned out as she held his hand. She wondered if he could hear her if Francois had been able to listen to her every time she visited. It felt like inane regurgitation at this point. The same old story repeated time after time over the month. Just as she was about to leave, she always told him the same one. She loved it the most. A time when she felt unsure and lost, worrying about so much. She grimly chuckled to herself. Jennifer thought the only reason Francois had woken up was just to stop her from retelling it another time. If that were true, then maybe telling it a few times more wouldn't hurt him. Fondly recalling that story certainly helped to keep her spirits high in the last terrible month of her life. 

"Remember when we first met?" Jennifer whispered to him.

Francois twiddled his thumbs. The chair he sat on was of unique invention, for it somehow grew more uncomfortable with each passing second. Squirming did little to abate how awful the seat was. His leg started to jog of its own volition. An old gentleman, bespectacled, riddled with wrinkles and with a long wispy white beard, crept out from the back room. He shuffled out at a pace that even a turtle would find slow. Francois grit his teeth as he stood up. Aches streaked across his body, stabbing into his legs. Getting out of the chair was an excruciating task.

Breathe in, breathe out, just like the doc said. 

“Here you are sir, and may I say, it is an excellent choice.” The dead could talk faster than the old man could.

A brown paper bag. Inside, a wrapped box with a bowtie. Francois couldn’t help but smile. 

“Thank you so much for this. I know it was late notice and especially with everything going on it-”

“No need to thank me, sir.” The owner of the store cut him off with pinpoint precision to end Francois ramblings. “I hope everything goes well for you.”

“I hope so as well.” He tucked the bag into his coat pocket.

The bell on the door rang. Francois entered back on the street. He hobbled down as best he could, refusing to use a crutch or cane to help him. A dull ache always kept him company after that day. Every he moved, a violent sharp pain coursed its way from back down to his legs. Walking became a trial of endurance. He put it out of his mind as best he could and rested whenever he could not to recover. Barely a soul was on the sidewalk. Even the roads were empty. Grey clouds hung overhead, a chill wind blustered. Military checkpoints littered the intersections. Tanks and transports blockaded areas. Soldiers rested on sandbags and hefty boxes of military equipment. The few people about were quick to go about their business. Visiting loved ones, getting food shopping, going to the hospital. The parks were quiet. Restaurants and cafes were deserted. All save for one.

The shop was half shuttered, its neon lights dimmed out. He tapped on the door window. When he crouched, it felt like someone had poured white-hot coals on his back. Francois sucked in air. A hulking man with great thick arms in a greased stained tank top and tracksuit unlocked the door. Francois bent and entered the shop. He had barely gotten through when Reg slapped him on the shoulder and laughed aloud. With how thick his arms were, Francois half believed Reg was trying to snap his shoulder blade. He ignored how much the slap hurt, considering he had not seen Reg in quite some time.

Inside was a drab restaurant interior with upturned chairs on wooden tables. To his left was a long counter and behind were three stone ovens with prep stations on either side. One such oven was alight. Sitting on the counter were several pizza boxes and small containers filled with all manner of side dishes. Francois could not help but smile.

“Good to see you again!” Reg’s broad smile revealed his yellowy teeth. 

“Likewise Reg. I know I’m asking a lot but-”

“Nonsense!” He bellowed, “you and that girl of yours are my best customers!” 

Francois snorted. “Isn’t that a bad thing?”

Reg laughed heartily, “you make it sound like having pizza is a terrible thing!” 

“It is with the way we go through it.” 

He threw his head back and roared with laughter once more, “you can never have too much my friend!” 

Francois nodded and chuckled. “Tell that to the impending heart attack.” 

“Better to have eaten than to have not eaten at all!” Reg ducked beneath the counter and went to the till. 

Francois pulled out his wallet and passed over one hundred dollars, "didn't realise you were a poet now as well."

Reg grinned, his gorilla-like hands snatched the money with surprising swiftness for someone of his size. He fumbled about for change until Francois spoke.

“Keep the change Reg.”

He looked confused, switching between the notes and Francois, “are you sure?”

Francois shrugged. “Considering you came into work just to cook all this food in the middle of a lockdown, a hundred is cheap.”

Reg just smiled and tucked the notes into his tracksuit pockets. “Thank you boss.” He stashed all the boxes into a delivery bag to keep them warm and to help Francois carry them.

“It’s okay. Take care of yourself Reg.” He took the bag and slung it around his shoulder, trying his hardest to ignore the pain.

“And you as well friend.”

Francois left the restaurant and continued to limp back home. The city was still reeling from Victory Park and it showed. The streets were clear in case of any emergency. No more bikers or cars, no more tourists or revellers. In case another Abyssal did attack, you could have a giant running down the road at full pelt without her having to worry about flattening any unfortunate pedestrians or vehicles. Such an order, imposed by the government and enforced by the military and police, made it as though all life had been sucked out of place. A sense of gloom hung over. The people were more spectres than people. Everyone looked hollow, drained of colour and tired. He was in near enough a sprint to rush back home.

He came to a checkpoint on a sidestreet back to his apartment. There were two jeeps with heavy-mounted machine guns on either side, leaving only a narrow gap for people to slip through. A squad of soldiers in their green and beige uniforms chatted idly between each other. From the looks of things, they were a new group. Troops rotated constantly and patrolled different parts of the city. They turned their heads when they saw Francois approaching them. One of them who had been sitting on the front of one of the jeeps slid off. He was tall, clean-shaven, but looked like he had not slept for a month, judging by the size of the bags beneath his brown eyes. Francois stopped before them.

“How's it been with you guys?”

“Boring.” A younger troop interjected. He was half in the jeep, leaning on the machine gun at the top.

“Then how about I add some excitement?” 

Francois unslung the bag. He pulled out two pizza boxes and passed them to the tall soldier, assuming he was the leader of the group. He looked stunned and surprised, and then took the boxes from Francois. The others in the squad dashed over, the youngest on the gun lept from his position, slid down the jeep and joined the rest surrounding the officer like a pack of hungry wolves.

“What's this for?” The soldier asked.

Francois shrugged, “doing a good job I suppose.”

“Well… thanks, I guess.” He placed the boxes onto the hood of the jeep. When the opened the boxes, his squadmate's hands were grabbing slices of piping hot pizza with such speed that he registered it as a blur.

“Used to be infantry back in the day, so I know how boring these assignments get.” Francois sealed the bag to keep the others warm.

“You were?” The younger troop spat gobs of pizza out and swiftly replaced it by devouring another slice.

“Yeah. 27th Infantry a few years back. Got bumped up to corporal before things settled and I could leave.”

“What was it like if you don’t mind me asking? Before you left?”

Francois rubbed the back of his head. “What do you mean?”

“The war I mean. Lots of rumours from back before those giants, so you know, lot of bullshit gets spread round the place. I’d like to hear it from someone who was there in the shit.”

An awkward moment passed. Francois stared off, seeing through the officer. Ringing dominated his hearing. He then huffed, frowned and shook his head. “I’d rather not.”

The officer appeared unsatisfied, very much expecting a grand regaling of old battles and heroism. Nevertheless, he remained courteous and offered a salute to him.

Francois returned it but staggered. Breathing became difficult. Palpations rose. The stabbing in his back numbed.

“You okay sir? You look pale.”

“Yeah I’m-” Francois shook his head to regain focus but he staggered. 

Francois’s legs went weak. The lightheadedness returned. He fell back on the jeep to support himself but collapsed in on himself, buckling at the knee. The squad sprung into action, lifting him up for support. Francois saw their lips move, but was too dizzy to hear what they were saying. His stomach twisted and churned. It like his heart was about to burst from his chest. He put a hand to his face to wipe away the cold sweat. Balance slowly returned. Francois forced himself to stand upright. 

The officer’s orders came like the crack of thunder to Francois, “-et me a medic! He’s-”

“No, I’m okay,” he interrupted, “just… its been a long day is all.”

“You sure you’re fine? You look like death,” the officer looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I live in one of these apartments, so I can go get some rest.”

“You should,” the officer stood aside, as did his men, “thanks for the food as well.”

Francois nodded and gave a weak salute to them. The conversation between the soldiers continued behind. They were loud enough that he could still hear them, even as he went up the stairs to the top of the apartment block. The climb was arduous. From his back down to his legs, the pain was acute and hrash. He took frequent breaks up every flight until he reached the top. Francois realised now how he took for granted his luck and his health. To be brought so low by mere stairs. Step by step, just constant unrelenting suffering. Then again, he was fortunate to still be alive after all that had happened. Meanwhile, some arguments over who was tougher between the different heroes continued among the soldiers. He smiled as one of them brought up the Titaness and uproar between them all surged.

Francois got to the top floor, now considering if the landlord would grant a hint of mercy and let them move to the lower levels. The door swung open. He gulped. Two giants had to bow their heads and turn sideways to fit through the doorway. The Blitz and Harrower. Blitz was an awesome sight. Every inch of her teemed with brawn. How her white costume could withstand bursting from just how engorged her muscles were, Francois could only guess at the miracles of science and design. Still, her titanic frame gave more than enough room for all the marketers to make her a walking billboard for various gyms and protein supplements.

A frightened tingle crept up Francois's spine when he turned and met with the Harrower’s piercing gaze. Her raven-colour locks draped like a sheet of dark velvet. Whilst just as tall as her muscle-bound counterpart, Harrower was thinner in stature. Her eyes were sunken, her pupils radiated a dazzling blue. There were no advertisements on her outfit, instead, there were decorative lightning bolts scattered across.

Both of them exchanged glances and then looked down at Francois. He tensed up. They passed him without a word and walked down the stairs, forcing step to the side to let them pass. He rose an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. What the hell are they doing here, Francois wondered. Jennifer would never go into detail, but as soon as someone would begin to talk about their feats, she flipped an internal switch and clocked out of the conversation. Francois put it down to jealousy or that there was some rivalry in the strange sisterhood. Maybe they do get along, he thought.

Francois entered the apartment as he heard some furious yelling. Something about showing respect. He put it out of his mind and shut the door behind him. There were no takeaway boxes, and the carpets and furniture had been cleared and scoured. The apartment looked almost brand new. Jennifer was lazing on a fresh robust-looking sofa in her outfit. Francois dropped the delivery bag down by a neat pile of shoes. Touching the paper bag in his pocket made a bright smile form on his face.

“What did they want?”

Jennifer was muted. She stared at the fully repaired ceiling with a dark scowl.

“Jenn…” Francois’s voice trailed off.

“It’s nothing.” Her words reeked with frustration that was close to boiling over. She jogged her leg, biting her lip all the while.

“Fine, fine, I won’t pry,” he started pulling out an assortment of boxes, “I got us some pizzas for tonight.”

“I’m not in the mood to eat.”

“But you ask-”

“I said I’m not hungry,” Jennifer snapped.

“The hell has gotten into you?” Francois went to sit on the little patch of the sofa he thought was reserved for him, “what did they say?”  

“Nothing! Just stop with all the questions!”

No metallic groaning. Jennifer was tall, but that outburst should have sent her flying up in height. Francois stood by the couch. He folded his arms and fixated on her.

“What did they say?” He took an air of authority.

Jennifer sat upright. Her hands dug deep into the couch, nearly ripping up the furniture with her grip. She winced, turned her head and snorted like an enraged bull.

“They came round and told me to break up with you.” 

He blinked. “What?” Francois looked stunned, “is this some kind of joke?”

Jennifer focused on him. Her stare bored into Francois’s soul.

“They-” He turned to the door, “they said to break up? They did?” His head spun from the door to Jenn repeatedly, then stopped to ask her, “why?”

Fury welled within him. It rose higher than the aches and all the pain of a broken body put together again. The notion that these women were intruding on their lives and commanding them incessed Francois more than he ever thought possible.

Jennifer turned her head. She pursed her lips, sealing them shut.

“Why did Blitz and Harrower tell you?” Francois reiterated.

“Harrower, Blitz, Empress, Red Rose, you name them, they told me.”

Francois's eyes narrowed, “Empress and Red Rose aren’t even in the city.”

She nodded, “after what happened at…” Jennifer winced, choked on her words and held back tears, “they have been asking me more and more to separate from you. All the girls currently in the city have visited. Others even came.”

“To say what?” Francois's jaw clenched. He was biting down hard enough to shatter his teeth.

Jennifer bowed her head in defeat.

“To say what?” He growled.

Jennifer hunched over. She covered her face. Her voice lost all strength, “same thing they’ve always told me. To keep you as a toy. A friend with benefits. An outlet if I ever got the urge.”

He balled his hand into a fist, his knuckles cracking, “a toy? They told you that?” 

Jennifer nodded.

Francois scoffed, and he threw his hands into the air. Unable to stay still anymore, he paced about the apartment. An ancient puppet desperately dancing about on worn strings had more grace than Francois. He shambled about as best he could to disperse his rage.

“Just who the fuck-” Francois tripped over his own words. His voice became louder and louder, “just who the fuck do they think they are? Those fucking clowns? T-That beefcake freak and nutjob? Those media whoring sluts? Coming here and telling you what to do?”

“Where do they get the fucking nerve!” Francois’s face lit up bright red. He stumbled a bit and then fell over. Jennifer dashed over to help just in time to hold him upright. He was panting hard. It took him a moment to recompose himself. Jennifer propped him up until he regained balance. She was taller than him, he stood close to chest height compared. There was silence between them.

Jennifer sulked, sighed and then sat back down on the couch, “I gave them the same answer as before. The same answer I kept giving them.”

His eyes met with Jennifer's mournful and sullen gaze, “How long have they been doing this?”

“Too long,” she sighed, “that’s the first time in ages they’ve actually bothered to visit me. I just always thought it was better to not tell you.”

“Not to tell me? You thought it was better not to tell me you were going this? After all this time together?”

Jennifer’s eyes radiated with rage. Her voice was tinged with withheld fury now pouring out, “do you know what they were putting us through?”

“Remember I told you that they don’t pay us, that we have to do those gigs and endorsement to make our way? We get paid by the government to keep us happy and they pressured the feds to stop giving me anything! When I told them I was staying with you, they cut me off. They wanted to drag us through the mud, see us beg and grovel for scraps because I wouldn’t abandon you.”

Jennifer’s shoulder slackened, her rage all spent, “That was when I asked if I could move in with you. When you said yes, I never felt so much relief, but I felt like a leach ever since. You were paying for everything, working yourself to the bone every day.” 

“And after Victory Park, when I grew that tall, all the girls…” 

Jennifer choked back her tears. Francois hobbled over and sat beside her. He placed a hand on her shoulder to provide a measure of comfort.

“They told me to quit, that there would be a replacement for me. When I was in the hospital with you, they visited me day in, day out. Some said I should take a break after all the trauma. Others said I was a risk, too dangerous to defend a city anymore. They said I had too much power and that made me a liability.”

When she turned to Francois, his eyes were wide, darting about as he processed everything. He opened his mouth to speak, stopped, went to say something, and stopped again. 

“Is that why so many are here?”

Jennifer sighed, a long drawn-out exhale that seemed to sap the strength out her, “I don’t know.”

“And you didn’t trust me enough to tell the truth?” 

“I did trust you,” Jennifer’s voice started to break, “do you know what it's like to feel like you are a leach? When I got home late and woke you up before your shift, making you pay for everything, I kept on wanting to be sick. I was always afraid. Afraid and frightened because you were there when everyone else abandoned me. You were the only one there for me, who didn’t turn their back or think I was some kind of freak to oggle.”

Tears began to run down her face, “and then the only person who cared for me was dying in my arms, working to support for me because of my choices and I…” Jennifer slipped from the sofa and crumbled to the floor, holding her head. Francois fell with her, still holding her shoulder.

“Seeing you in the hospital, mangled and torn, because I was too slow to do the one thing was I meant to do.”  

She buried her head into Francois chest. He could feel the tears streaming as she bawled her eyes out. Saddened cries were muffled against his t-shirt. Her arms wrapped around him and tightened. Francois returned her hug.

Jennifer looked up. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, the golden brilliance now dimmed, “I nearly lost you. Lost everything. The one…” She cried out once more, unable to finish her sentence. Francois held her as she poured all the emotion and struggles she endured out onto him.

“You’re not a burden. Don’t you ever think that. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. From the moment we met on that godforsaken day to now, I have always loved you.”

“But… you…”

“I didn’t Jenn. I'm still here.” Francois winced. The nerve endings were alight. Somehow, embracing Jennifer gave him the strength to overpower it. It all melted away.

You were always there for me, he thought, and I will always be there for you.

“We’ll get through it together.”

They hugged one another until the dull ache in Francois back’s forced him to sit on the couch. He sighed as he massaged the pain point. Jennifer sat beside and asked, “is it still bad?”

“Better than I was.” Francois flashed a smile at her.

She scowled in concern, “you really shouldn’t be out so much.”

“Well… it was pretty important.”

He scoffed, wiping away the last of her tears, “I know you like pizza, but that's just ridiculous.”

He tucked his hand into his pocket, feeling out the paper bag and the small box. All he could do was grin, “I said I wanted to treat you right?” Fracnois hauled over the pizzas, “Reg was still in town and cooked them up for us.” 

“Really, he’s still here?” 

“Lot of stubborn bastards around here. People think leaving is surrendering, same as always. Besides, having so many giants around gives them a hint of comfort.”

Jennifer tittered, her hand rubbing Francois thigh, “is that how you feel around me?”

“Of course, I always did,” he looked at Jennifer. A suggestive smile leered. Though you growing inside the apartment is going to give me a heartache sooner or later, he thought.

Jennifer hauled herself over and planted herself firming on Francois’s lap. She cupped his head, making him stare directly into her eyes. No longer bloodshot. They now radiated pure gold. She leaned in closer, her lips pressing into his. Jennifer was being slow, methodical, making every peck an indulgent and decadent feast. Francois pulled away, much to Jennifer's confusion. If needed to do it now. Fate tried to snatch the moment away before. He spent so much time fretting and worrying over it. Now was the best time, the best moment to show Jennifer how much he meant to her, how much he valued her company and their relationship.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"There's something I've been meaning to do for a long time." Francois fished the bag out from his pocket and passed it to Jennifer. She rose an eyebrow, thoroughly intrigued.

"Go on," his heart hammered faster and faster. Facing down that abomination was less nerve-wracking than this, "take a look inside."

Jennifer pushed herself off Francois and opened the bag. She pulled out a small box, her face scrunching up to relay her further confusion, "what is it?"

With trembling hand, Francois took the box from her, rose to his feet then supported himself as best he could. Getting down on one knee was pure agony. Jennifer stared at him, her eyes widening in sudden realisation. He popped open the box. The light caught a gleaming golden ring with a hefty stud of diamond. Jennifer covered her face in shock. Francois went to speak, but the words were lost to him. He wanted to say something witty, something clever, anything really. He was kneeling there unable to say even a word, until, at last, he blurted out his thoughts.

"Wed me?" he said with a dumbstruck expression his face, as though he couldn't believe he had something so important so stupidly.

Francois barely had time to react. Jennifer threw herself on him with such force, she sent the sofa flying back and crashing into the wall. All the while, the groaning from her growth bellowing to life. She crash-landed on him, dwarfing him in size and forcing him to endure a deep, long and loving kiss that poured all her affection and desire into him. Francois couldn't see or understand much. He knew what Jennifer was growing by the fact he could not move and he knew he was being kissed, considering he could only see red. When Jennifer decided to stop out of fear of suffocating her now finance with her love, she pushed herself up, beaming a bright warm grin at Francois. She laughed, utterly giddy with delight.

"Yes!" she squealed in delight, unable to hold back her excitement any more, "yes yes yes!"

Francois was flat on his back, staring up at a giant Jennifer. She almost took up the entirety of the living room. The pizzas were all flattened as the sauce stained and seeped into the carpet. The sofa and coffee table were overturned and thrown to their sides. Part of the newly refurbished walls was cracked once more thanks to her shoulders pressing against them. He chuckled to himself. The pain that had been with him all this time ever since his long stay at the hospital subsided. Francois looked up at the flushed giantess above. Flustered cheeks, her golden eyes and her flowing red hair. She was perfect. Too perfect. He could hardly even speak or voice how much he loved her. Even as she grew larger and larger, he didn't care. She was there for him, and he was there for her. No matter what the world would throw at them, Abyssal, heroine, or whatever, they would always get through as they always had done. Together.