Anomalous by Dracobrss
Summary:

Guys, I have a confession to make. I have a love-hate relationship with giantess literature. Don’t get me wrong, I love the subculture, but I often find stories do not offer the compelling narrative of other genres. I know, its heresy, but I know I’m not alone in this belief. Too often fetish content abounds in place of plot, interesting characterization, and general believability. Yes, we are working in a speculative realm but even fantastical characters have to possess some truly human qualities right? I feel the same way about the superhero genre. Sure, everyone once and a while I like a good comic book or action-packed blockbuster teeming with attractive celebrities clad in ridiculous costumes but lets face it, the superhero genre has been stagnant for a long time. Unfortunately there’s not a lot you can do to twist its conventions without veering off into another realm altogether. Anyway, I’ve been playing around with this concept for a long time. I thought that maybe with a little effort I could rectify some of the points I take issue with in both forms of media. I know the giantess superheroine concept has been done before and it will be used a thousand times over but fuck it, I wanna give it a try.

 

Anyway, without further ado I present “Anomalous.” This story primarily follows Alden “Moth” Eakins, a cynical college student with a penchant for self-destructive behavior. As a member of the burgeoning new metahuman population Moth spends his evenings seeking thrills in the seedy underbelly of Baltimore and beyond. Eventually his compulsions put him in conflict with some truly twisted individuals. Along the way he meets Avin, another meta who may just possess the most powerful ability of all…

 


Categories: Violent, Adventure, Breasts, Body Exploration, Crush, Destruction, Footwear, Gentle, Growing Woman Characters: None
Growth: Mega (501 ft. to 5279 ft.)
Shrink: None
Size Roles: F/m
Warnings: Following story may contain inappropriate material for certain audiences
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 2 Completed: No Word count: 7549 Read: 10797 Published: January 08 2018 Updated: January 18 2018

1. When the by Dracobrss

2. Flesh and Bone by Dracobrss

When the by Dracobrss
Author's Notes:

Okay, so I know I haven’t been great about finishing stories in the past. I have many other projects so these giantess projects often become forgotten. That being said if you enjoy what you’ve read here, have any questions, or just want to muse on other subjects, feel free to leave me a message in the comments. Feedback is one of my primary forms of motivation so please let me know if there’s anything on your mind. I apologize that this chapter is lacking giantess content but I am a firm believer in a strong setup. Don’t worry, subsequent chapters will have much more interesting material. I have also opted to include more fetish material because why not. Also, I’ve decided to pair each chapter with a song, so I strongly encourage you to check those out along with the text. That’s about it, hope you enjoy!

 

P.S. This is like the…fourth time I’ve tried to upload this, and I got tired of going back and doing some of the minute edits suggested by Grammarly so I apologize if there are a few articles or words missing in places.

 

Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJ-S968G7Jc

 

 

 

            I suppose there’s always a better place to begin. When you live in a world controlled by the ebb of stories there are certain doubts one must consider when trying to explain the categorical sequence of bullshit that leads you to a given point. Someone once told me that the average human being solidifies their opinion of an individual after only two minutes of shallow conversation. In other words: first impressions really do matter. I guess that’s why I’m starting on that brisk April night, when I realized that Hollywood really is full of shit.

 

April 3rd, 2015. Baltimore.

            I don’t think most people realize how much they can bleed before they lose consciousness. I know it certainly surprised me. As I stumbled down the steep metal staircase all I could think was: “damn, there’s goes my perfect record.” The wound in my side needed stitches, that much was certain, but that wouldn’t matter if I didn’t find a way out first. 

            You ever been to one of those places where reality seems somehow altered? Old bowling allies, abandoned department stores, diners after midnight…you know, those kinds of places. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but something just seems off. Maybe it’s the progression of time, or the color of the haze hanging around the edges of your field of vision. Whatever the case may be, that was precisely how the old dockside warehouse felt. The alternating corners of light and dark seemed cartoonish in relation to the pale violet tint loitering throughout the rest of the city. I moved between shadows of infinite blackness and the eerie flash red lamps. My side grew disturbingly cold, so I opted to rest for a minute near an old rusted gas tank.

            My breath slogged in and out of my throat like a snake, or was that the blood? I tried my best not to look down at jagged gash in my side. No sense in making myself any sicker. I checked my watch. 10:53 pm. Damn. I hadn’t told my ride to swing by until at least 11:30. I would be dead by then if I didn’t do something. Luckily, I had the foresight to pack a first aid kit. Normally I liked to work relatively light, after all the ballistics mask and the rest of my “armor” were cumbersome enough. Still, I used to be a Boy Scout and I wasn’t about to disregard my former credo.

            As I unzipped my pack I heard the metal clunk of a door bounce down through the far-reaching factor rafters. Shit, they were on my trail already. I had to move fast. As I clumsily ripped open the gauze pads my head swiveled from side to side, combing the darkness for the slightest sign of movement. Blood began to pour anew as my heart rate reached new heights. With my wounds dressed, I rolled my shirt back down and applied a healthy dose of duct tape to keep everything in place.

I had only been in the business a few months by that point, so I didn’t have all the fancy gear or costumes some of those other so-called “arbiters” possessed. Eh, who needed them. When the meta-revolution began everyone thought the same thing: “oh boy, now we’re gonna have a bunch of deranged nerds running around in ridiculous outfits with ridiculous names endangering their lives and the lives of others.” While I normally hate agreeing with the masses I had to say they were right on the money. I never considered myself an arbiter, a vigilante, a hero, villain, any of that shit. I did it because I could. It was better than any other high, and trust me, I’ve had my fair share of experience in that regard. Nevertheless, there were those nights where I got in way over my head and immediately began to regret my obsessions. Come to think of it that was most nights actually.

            Suddenly, a beam of light danced across the ceiling overhead. Hushed chatter echoed from the distant vents, distorting the position and proximity of the oncoming pack. I saw the harsh glow of a flashlight poke out from the far exit, disappear for a moment, and then return. Trying my best to keep quiet, I hunkered down behind the gas tank and took inventory of my ammunition.

            What? Guns? Of course we use guns, why wouldn’t we? I’m not fucking Batman or Bruce Lee or any of that shit. Other people have guns, and as recent events would suggest, I am definitely not invulnerable either. It was too dark to accurately count my remaining rounds. Somewhere between ten and six? It didn’t matter. I peered out cautiously into the murky red glow to find six dark shapes wielding flashlights and a myriad of firearms peeking into every corner.

            Normally I’d shift and escape. This kind of darkness was perfect for my camouflaging ability. While some had strength, endurance, speed, or brains I could hide like no other. Well, most of the time at least. You see, when the metas started popping up most of them were pretty harmless. I read somewhere that less than .05% of the US population developed abilities, and of that relatively small number 90% never manifested to the human eye. Most people could do simple stuff that made their lives just slightly easier. An old acquaintance of mine could regrow bone at four times the usual rate. A guy that lived down the street was slightly bioluminescent, you know that kind of shit. Me, I became only slightly invisible. Emphasis on the slightly.

            Like I said, normally I’d have shifted and made my escape when there weren’t looking, but at the moment my injury was making the whole cloaking process rather difficult. Besides, if they managed to lase me with the beam of one of their flashlights…well they’d see me for sure. So I waited, trying desperately to come up with a plan. My nerves were on the brink when suddenly the eerily out of place chiming of cellphone cut into the choking silence. One of the goons produced a cellphone, placed against his ear and said:

            “No…no…not yet we’re still looking…well fuck man I don’t know, you’s the one that said this motherfucker could disappear n’ shit…yeah I…wait what…what you mean there’s another one?”

            Then the tremors started. It was subtle at first, like a ripple just barely disturbing the surface of a tunnel. Then it grew, wider and more violent. I tried to sense a pattern in the earth-shaking disturbances, but it seemed as sporadic as the wind itself.

            “We gotta go. Come on, fuck that other guy!” the same thug cried out to his compatriots. He slipped his phone back in his pocket and gestured toward the door.

            That was my opening. As the troop turned back toward the exit I finally built up the courage to make a made dash for the side door. I holstered my weapon in my waistband and rose to my feet. I made it about six steps before I tripped. Oh man, I wish I could tell you that there was some grace to it. That I somehow managed to dive, tuck, and roll out of the way. Or that fell flat and kept my goddamn mouth shut. Nope. Instead I ate shit immediately, landing right on my freshly patched wound. After a slew of rather unmanly anguished cries, the hextet turned on their heels weapons and lights drawn. The one at the back of the line closest to me fired immediately. This in turn prompted the others to open up as well. Had I not been lying flat on my stomach I would have been riddled with holes. Some might be tempted to call it a miracle, but whole string of events was too pitiful for it to be any act of a merciful god.

            Once the initial hail of gunfire faded, the gang’s leader raised his arm and voice in unison, crying out:

            “Hold up, hold the fuck up!” The others paused, fingers itching to continue the senseless barrage. Their leader aimed his flashlight down on my prone, crippled, blood-soaked body. I turned to face him, but soon averted my gaze to avoid the blinding beam. “You down?” the leader asked.

            “Is that some kind of fucking joke?”  I replied. Maybe that wasn’t the best time to be using my usual brand of sass. The man stepped forward, pushing past the other thugs with his nine-milimeter trained on my skull.

            “I said are you hit?”

            “Kind of.”

            “You armed?”

            “Well that’s another—”

            “Are. You. Armed?” He repeated with greater emphasis. I considered my options. From what I could tell these guys were somewhere between trigger-happy gangbangers and highly-trained professionals, so the possibility of strict execution was definitely on the table.

            “Not any more…” I said with a sigh as I gestured to my dropped sidearm that had skidded some ten feet away. The man pointed to the weapon and another goon quickly moved to retrieve it.

            “Alright on your feet, slowly. If you even sneeze funny I will drop you. You got that motherfucker?”

            “Yeah, yeah, this isn’t my first time being taken hostage. Just tell your little stormtroopers over there to keep their cool. I’m bleeding pretty bad here and I don’t want to get drilled just for wincing.”

            Say what you will about armed thugs, they tend to be a lot more courteous when they think they have the upper hand. That’s not to say they didn’t have the upperhand, I mean, obviously I don’t even posses the finesse to run ten feet, let alone turn the tables one six thugs.

            Two of them pulled me to my feet, while the others kept their muzzles leveled on my chest. They didn’t take much care for my injury, instead forcing me against the wall with their lights shining directly through the slits of my mask. I closed my eyes and kept my knuckles against the brick far above my head. Another quake rocked the building, this time rocking some dust loose from the fractured ceiling. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard the squeal of tires and pop of automatic gunfire mingled with the violence thuds.

            “Forget him Dice, let’s get the fuck out of here!” another of the ruffians called to their leader. “He ain’t worth it. You hear what’s goin on out there.”

            “Shut up!” he called back. The man known as “Dice” approached and ripped my mask off. Little did he know I had a smaller balaclava hiding my face underneath. He rolled his eyes and removed it as well. Meanwhile all I could think about was Scooby-Doo and Adderall.

            “Hmph…that’s it.” He lamented when he saw my true face. “you’re just a fucking kid.”

            “Hey now!” I interjected, “I’m legal.”

            Dice cocked his weapon and pressed it against my forehead. “Man, keep yo mouth shut.”

            “Right, shut…got it. I just—” but the bloodthirsty glare I received from Dice and his men stalled any further snarky comments.

            “Now then, that’s better. So, kid, where’s the laptop?”

            There was nothing but silence. Well, okay that’s not true. Outside the crunch of metal, the distant trill of police sirens, and the continuous thundering disrupted our hard earned awkward silence.

            “Dice let’s go—”

            “I swear to God, if any of you move, I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out. Now I’m not gonna ask again kid, where’s the god damn laptop?” It would seem my time was just about up. Unfortunately, as you may or may not have guessed, I had no idea what laptop he was talking about. I had just been roaming around looking for trouble when I saw the exchange going down. Thought I might snap a few pics, nab a few goods, and sell the info to the police, but I never intended for shit to hit the proverbial fan.

            “Okay, look. I admit I’m not the best liar, but you gotta believe me man I don’t know anything about a—”

            And it was at that point, dear friends, when I first saw her. Normally these moments of meeting have humorous undercurrents or dramatic sunlight heralding some great emotional connection. For me, it was a deafening crash, the shattering of metal, glass, and the crumbling of concrete. I guess there was a trick with the light. Sparks and electrical bursts, then only dust. I remember falling to my knees and adopting the oh-so heroic fetal position. The others followed suit. Once the rain of pebbles and debris came to an end we all slowly lifted our heads. The shadow that once reigned as king in the warehouse interior was instead replaced with a curious mix of midnight gray.

            “Having a party in here are we?” a booming voice asked from overhead. As the dust settled we peered up into the star-speckled sky at a dark looming shape. The white city lights across the bay accented the features of the enormous figure with eerie etchings. At first all that came to mind was the old book of Greek mythology I used to carry around in middle school. Whoever she was she looked just like one of the old black and white sketches of the titans, looming over the Olympian gods.

            “Jesus fuckin—” one of the goons choked between fits of coughing. He raised his guns and squeezed off one, two, three, four shots at the colossal woman who knelt over us. She must have been, damn I don’t know three hundred feet tall? I’m bad at measuring shit. Unsurprisingly the bullets did very little beside piss her off. Her playful smirk melted  into a sore frown. Out of the clearing musk her gigantic hand raised up into the air like some prehistoric creature. She lowered it until it hovered just overhead, flicking the panicked criminal square the in chest. The force of blow made an audible gut-wrenching crack as the poor fool went careening backward into a row of plastic garbage cans. Seeing their comrade so easily dispatched the others dropped their weapons and raised their arms. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but they seemed to recognize her.

            “And who might you be?” she inquired. I looked around at the others, who all kept their heads aimed at the floor in that casual sign of defeat. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the fear, maybe both, whatever the case it took me a long fucking time to realize she was talking to me. I sheepishly looked up. Even in cool, clouded darkness of that April evening I could make our her features with relative ease. She had long brownish hair reaching down to her chest. Blue, maybe, grey, maybe green eyes. Distinct cheekbones and a kind of symmetry in her face that would make even William Blake shit his pants.

            “Oh me?” I blurted out like an idiot, “I’m no one.”

            Her smirk returned, her fierce eyes narrowed, and soon her enormous hand glided over to me. There were a few more…ahem…squeaks and gibbers, but I must say aside from an even coat of sweat, tears, and a negligible amount of urine I handled the situation pretty well.

            “Curious. I don’t think someone like you could be so lucky as to be born a no one.”

            Words raced about in my head, mostly due to a strange nagging sense of familiarity. I had seen this gigantic woman before, numerous times in fact, but the fear was strangling my thoughts. Before I could muster another shaky sentence, the giantess’ fingers descended upon my cowering form. You ever been plucked before? Yeah that sounded a lot weirder than it did in my head. Scratch that. Anyway, visions of the little green aliens from Toy Story danced in my head as I watched my enemies below recede. Her fingers clamped down on me with a curious balance of force and cautiousness. The pain in my side flared up into a raging hellstorm of displeasure.

            Eventually, I came face to face with her. Still held tightly between her fingers I peered deep into the god-like iris of my captor.

            “You’re…not with them? I assume as much, you don’t look like a common thug.”

            “Nope,” I quickly chirped in reply. “Nope, no, definitely not with them. I…I…do I know you from somewhere?”

            She gave a coy smile before dropping her hand slightly. I now looked up at her. She ran her fingers through a few strands of hair before seizing a stray lock and casually twirling it about before continuing on:

            “Oh I’m in the community. You may have seen in me around. Social media, I’ve been TV a few times I’m sure. Nothing major, there’s so many interesting characters these days I couldn’t expect you to remember me.”

            What the hell was that supposed to mean. It didn’t matter, the circuits in my brain finally connected. She was in fact a major figure in the meta community. Well, major may have been a strong word. There were many who embraced their new found abilities, mostly for selfish reasons. But a select few, myself included, kept themselves occupied by…well doing all kinds of random shit. While I tended to work under the radar she was constantly in the limelight. About the closest thing we had to actual superheroes. Now, she wasn’t some do-gooder patriotic beacon of hope and justice, only like two of them were. No she was…complicated.

            “Avin, right?” I somehow managed to choke out. Her smile spread, revealing two rows of sizeable teethe that would have easily ground my bones to dust.

            “That’s right.” She paused, as though drinking in the moment. “You look like you could use some help. I heard from a friend of a friend another meta was skulking around here up to no good.”

            “A-n-n-nother f-friend you say?”

            “Yeah, said something about him, being in way over his head. Something about getting himself killed…ring a bell?”

            See, now that I don’t care for. Sure, I was in a bit of a tight spot, and yes she did absolutely save my life, but you don’t have kick a guy when he’s down…or bleeding out. Speaking of which, as she continued to gloat she eventually caught side of profusely bloodied flank. Her smugness swiftly gave way to concern.

            “Oh shit, you alright?”

            “I’ll, be…” but my wince betrayed any semblance of composure I had left. She gave a reassuring nod and loosened her grip. Allowing me to slip down into her palm with a heavy plop.

            “Well, hold on for just a second. I need to wrap this up here with the Sharks here…” she turned her gaze back on the pack of trembling brutes. From this height they were no more than dolls to her. “… or is it the Jets?” I could hardly believe, a cocky pop-culture reference in the midst of battle? Be still my beating heart!

            “Anyway like I said,” Avin went, lowering her voice so as not to drive me deaf. “this will only take a second more.” She lowered me down toward her lap, and gently deposited me on her exposed thigh. As her hand withdrew, we locked eyes for a moment. Some strange connection was made then, I’m certain of it. I often find myself returning to that very moment in my dreams. Between the pause and the twist, between the fade and swell, there falls a singular passing flicker among a sea of moments we spent together. It all began with exchange of curious glances.

            “It’s…Moss right?” she asked non-chalantly.

            “Moth. Not moss.”

 

 

Flesh and Bone by Dracobrss
Author's Notes:

Hey guys! Second chapter coming at you. I hope to continue putting these out relatively frequently but as you all know I am really bad at keeping up with these projects. I hope you all have been enjoying this new story. As I mentioned before it's really just an opportunity to have fun with it. As always if you like what you are reading, have any questions, or the like feel free to leave a comment/review. Also, I plan on updating a few of my other stories later so stay tuned. 

Also here's this chapter's song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyZXaSKU8hU

            When I woke up that morning, I was convinced I had been abducted from my bed. I did not recognize the white walsl, the lazy ceiling fan, the rows of hanging posters. For two whole minutes I lay there paralyzed. Only when I heard the rush of water in pipes did I remember the interior of my apartment. My roommate was in the adjoining bathroom taking a shower. Then I remembered what day it was. Friday. That meant three things: American Non-fiction, Burnett’s, and work. Nothing like the weekends eh? After jacking off I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and stared at their reflection in the mirror on the far wall. I didn’t remember receiving half the bruises scattered over my shins. In that very second, I thought: “today’s going to be strange.”

            Boy did I hit nail on the head. As I lay prone, staring up at that mountainous beauty all I could think about was my bedroom back home. My real home I should add, not that shitty tenement I call an apartment. I retraced the hours spent imagining any number of physically compromising scenarios. Now, it seemed, I was on the doorstep of some frighteningly complex journey. Avin, my Godzilla-sized savior, turned her attention back to the assembly of crooks still cowering in the warehouse interior. A velvety command leapt from the edges of her tongue, inciting a confusing array of terror and calm.

            “Now then boys. I hope we can play nicely together. If you’d all be so kind as to throw your weapons in a pile over— No, not there, in the corner. Yeah, altogether. That’s right. Thank you. Now then…” With that she reached into the shattered structure with both hands, scooping the group up into her palms. Their worried groans and shouts muddled together in a flood of pleading. Once she had them all gathered together she brought them up to her face, inspecting the feeble few with an intensely suspicious glare. I couldn’t make out what all happened next, but I think I can piece it together.

            There was a short burst of pops, a defiant cry from one of Avin’s handheld captives, followed shortly by a collection of terrified whines. Avin instinctively recoiled and an irritated scowl formed on her face. Clearly one of the goons thought it would be clever to hide one of his firearms on his person, only to unload into his unsuspecting subjugator, somehow overthrowing her in the sudden surprise. And surprised she was, but defeated, definitely not. Typical south-side scum, more bullets than brains. In retaliation, Avin dumped the remaining thugs into her left hand and plucked the offender up between her thumb and forefinger. She gave him a violent shake before scolding:

            “I’ll give you credit for perseverance, but even the rest of your shit-brained friends here know that was stupid move.”

            With that she carelessly tossed the agitator over her shoulder. I couldn’t see precisely where he landed, what with Avin’s looming torso blocking my view, but I think it’s safe to say he didn’t fair too well. Once the metaphorical thorn in her side had been removed, Avin turned her gaze back to the other, now severely subdued, captives.

            “Anyone else want to try for a hail Mary?” she cooed. I couldn’t quite make out the thug’s reaction from my position, but I imagine it was far less brazen. Avin smiled and gave a quick nod. “That’s what I thought. Now with all that out of the way I think we’ll go ahead and wrap things up here.” Avin then reached down and retrieved something from her belt. A length of paracord. To an average human it would have been nearly a hundred feet’s worth, but to her it was only arms length. As her gaze dropped her eyes lazed over me for a moment and she gave me a warm smile.

            “Still doing okay down there little guy?”

            I can’t remember if I said anything in return, or if I just nodded like an idiot. Maybe both. Something about the way the dark river of her hair framed her distinctly chiseled features seemed to send my mind swimming. I was caught in the current of her looming shape, like a branch in a raging river. Though her demeanor toward me was calm I couldn’t help but feel beaten and nauseous.

            Then, in a quick winding motion she swept the loop of her hanging string around the huddled mass in her hand. She wrapped the strand around the bundle of trembling criminals again and again. She was seamstress-like, practiced. Surprisingly professional for one with such a playful demeanor. Well, maybe playful isn’t an accurate description. She did just toss a dude three hundred some feet into god knows what.

            As she completed her task Avin stifled a cocky grin. With both ends of the cord held in her right hand she lifted the bundle of squirming enforcers up into the air. They dangled in the air like a cluster of noisy spiders, kicking and screaming. Avin lowered the suspended cluster and tied off the loose ends on a nearby street lamp. When she was done, the five goons were left hanging twenty feet off the ground, calling out into the night for some sort of help. I got to say, I was impressed. I personally was not much into the apprehension or subduing of the criminal element but she made it look easy. Of course, over the next few months I’d learn that she made everything look easy.

            I could not tear my attention away from the felon tetherball Avin had created. I mean, that shit was hilarious. I didn’t have much time to revel though, as I soon found myself swept back up into Avin hand. She was generally good when it came to handling us small-fries, but the transition from surface to her hand almost always put me on the verge of vomiting. My injury didn’t help much either.

            “Moth.” She simply crooned. When I finally got my footing, I managed to stand up in the center of her palm. To my immediate front I saw the edges of her bare shoulders, each of which was draped with a wall of hair. I carefully creeped to the edge and looked down. I must have been nearly a hundred and fifty feet in the air, and she was just crouching! From this angle I could see her outfit with great clarity. It was simple, slim, conducive to movement and vulnerable to cold. I think you catch my drift. She wore a simple pair of light colored shorts that wrapped snuggly down to the midpoint of her thighs. On her torso was a sleeveless shirt made of some kind of elastic material akin to the shit they use to make Under Armour.

            “Moth!” she repeated, snapping back into reality. “you can check me out later. Eyes up here for a moment.”

            “S-sorry.” I muttered sheepishly.

            She gave a half-cocked smile began to smooth out a few misplaced locks of hair on the top of her head. “It’s fine. So, you want to tell me what you were doing down here?”

            Whoa, that was an abrupt turn around. The coy lilt that had previously dominated her words had been replaced with a skeptical interrogative tone.

            “Well, I uh…I heard from a friend of mine that—”

            “By friend I assume you mean J.D.?”

            My eyes dropped. I hated it when people cut through my bullshit so easily.

            “Yeah…”

            Avin nodded and urged me to continue.

            “Anyway,” I went on, “he told me about some ship that came into harbor a couple days ago. He said that some of the Corbi brothers’ men had a quite a bit of cargo on board. I thought I would come on down, take a few pictures, maybe nab some of the merchandise for good measure. You know, real hands-off shit.”

            Her eyes narrowed. “Riiiight. So, your little injury there was an accident then? Wasn’t looking where you going kind of thing, is that it?”

            “Look,” I shouted with a surprising amount of fervor, “There may have been a sleeping guard, and I may have overestimated my thieving capabilities a tad, and yes maybe I’m not very good at deflecting knife blows but—”

            Unfortunately, I was cut off. A parade of vehicles of every shape, size, and color came tearing around the corner of the warehouse. Avin was crouching in a large shipyard flanked on three sides by crumbling buildings with her back to the bay. We both turned to watch as six vehicles screeched to a stop in an arc on the other side of the yard. As if by clockwork, the doors swung open, depositing dark-clad swarms of armed adversaries. In my delirium I thought I counted upwards of thirty thugs all brandishing some form of firearm. Eyes drifting to the night sky, I saw a pair of dancing lights moving toward us from the horizon. Sirens, somewhere, echoing into the chilling reaches. It seemed the police were also on their way. Shit was about to get real messy.

            “Huh,” Avin boomed from overhead. “Well this is an unfortunate but unsurprising turn of events.” She turned back to me with a curious look on her face, one that I’d grow to learn all too well. “I think we’ll—”

            Then came the storm. A deafening clatter of gunpowder and metal, clanging magazines, and roaring barrels. A wave of tiny, metal projectiles danced across Avin’s exposed form, causing her to recoil in shock. At first, I thought she was done for, but after the initial barrage I looked up from my oh-so-heroic fetal position and saw that she looked relatively unscathed. I had expected blood and gore, but instead she simply looked annoyed.

            “Moth,”

            “yes?” I replied, trying my best to bury my terror.

            “If you’ll excuse me a moment…I’ll go ahead and get us out of here before more trouble shows up.” She stopped for a moment, mouth open as though some empty words had suddenly made their escape. “Do you trust me?”

            “No.”

            “That’s probably smart.” She responded with a wink. She looked down at the rest of her body, her off hand searching for something seemingly unknown. The assembled marauders meanwhile idled along, unable to fathom a creature surviving such a hail of devastating gunfire, let alone weathering it with relative ease. I peered over the edge of Avin’s palm, cautious not to poke my head out too far lest it be blown away by a stray bullet. A bald man in a ruffled, blood-spattered white dress shirt shouted to some other goons who then began to unpack some mysterious crates from the backs of several vehicles.

            “Damn Einis, he didn’t put any goddamn pockets in this thing.” Avin added with a huff.

            “Pockets?”

            “Yeah, this is a new suit, but no pockets. Sooooo.”

            She tilted her head forward, allowing a curtain of her mahogany hair drift down over the left side of her face. She bit her lip, judging and waiting, watching for me to make some contribution to our current dilemma.

            “I don’t follow.” I eventually admit.

            “You’re hurt, pretty badly too. I can’t just leave you somewhere while I take care of the Public Enemies over here. As soon as I get going they’re going to scatter like bugs. So I—”

            Another furious sound ripped through the salty air. The raging fusillade of rapid fire began again, forcing me into the fetal position once more. Come on, don’t give me that look. I’m just a kid alright? A kid who doesn’t want to get shot. Streaks of smoke rushed overhead, just barely missing Avin’s face before soaring off to god knows where. Fuckin’ RPGs. Whoever these guys were they had some decent connections.

            The next thing I know I’m in darkness. The sounds of war still echoed off in the distance, but they were muffled by a shadowy prison. I can sense Avin moving around me, I jostled from side to side before finally falling a short distance onto another warm surface. I expect to break a bone or two but to my surprise the impact is soft. At once I am surrounded by this surface, it confines me. When I look up I see dim light and familiar shapes. Avin’s face looms far overhead, but she pays little attention to me as I squirm against my confines. It was then I realized that Avin had deposited me between her breast and the cusp of her “suit.”

            “What the fuck?” I cry out. “This is your solution?” My voice quickly dies down, as the pain in my side suddenly returns with renewed effect.

            “Oh, hush now, if nothing else you’ll at least have a story to tell. Now sit still for a moment while I take care of some business.”

            Avin rose to her feet, displaying her full height for all to see. I remembered seeing her extraordinary stature silhouetted against the wide sky in shaky cell-phone footage and panning helicopter news coverage that spread across the interwebs. Along with Echo, Thorne, Stasis, and Father Cris, Avin was one of the most famous Arbiters in the United States. There were plenty others, but those five worked the social media angle. They were criticized a lot by the powerful elite, the far-right and left movements, not to mention a whole host of other people who subscribed to strict moral, social, or religious doctrines. I struggled to turn myself around as the length of fabric holding me down was particularly stiff. Eventually the effort conjured so much pain that I lost the air in my lungs. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the city lights, like some distant kingdom born from the womb of science-fiction. The buildings and streets below resembled the plain squares I studied for months in my Modern Art class. The sparse flashes and shouts exchanged on the distant ground reminded me of the summer of 2012 when I first dropped acid, the very moment when I drifted off into the nest of pernicious thought.

             I craned my neck to look back up at Avin, who by then had already refocused her attention on the task at hand. I expected to see the grimace of a professional or the severity of a battle-worn soldier, but instead she appeared casually annoyed.

            “Alright, you all get ten second head start…”

            I don’t know how our enemies responded. I imagine they must have realized their mistake and scattered just as Avin said they would, but I could not see. I watched as Avin counted down quietly to herself, forming each number silently with pursed lips. Once she had reached zero I heard the ground crack open as though an enormous egg had fallen from the sky and shattered into a thousand pieces. The heel of her boot impaled the pavement below, sending out a shockwave of such intensity that even I could feel it in my perch far above. Perplexed by the sudden destruction and perhaps a little eager from the promise of utter catastrophe, I foolishly decided to readjust myself to gain a better sight-line. I needed to see the mess she made. That’s why I did all that meta shit after all. I did not wander the alleys and sit atop the dilapidated parking garages looking to make a difference. I was, am, and always will be a symptom of the problem rather than a solution.

            In my haste to witness the carnage below I twisted my torso around, pressing my hands against the skin of her bosom and throwing my spine against the confines of her clothing. The pain was wretched. It was numbing and sharp. It caused my eyes to spin and limbs to drop. The last thing I remember before blacking out, was the disgusting sticky red trickle pouring from my side and staining Avin’s exposed flesh.

 

 

            I would tell you that I dreamed of campfires. I would tell you that I had visions of waiting for the bus in the snow or walking my dog in the October twilight when the air first began to smell of straw. Maybe I would sit in my old freshman hall, discussing old movies and talking about which bars didn’t check IDs. And then I’d say something about waking up one morning and not being able to see myself in the mirror, or going to class only to spend the entire time staring at my phone as story after story came flooding through. I wake up in service to myself, it is the only way to live like a monster and know that being different and being the same as everyone else were in many ways the contingent. I’m sure you’ll understand at some point if you don’t already. I would tell you all these things, but then they’d be lies.

            That’s okay though. You shouldn’t trust me anyway.

            When I finally woke it was a surprisingly quick ordeal. My lids shot open as though I had been struck by a sudden surge of electricity. A haze hung around my vision, greying the edges and dulling my sense of distance. Before me was a plain white expanse illuminated by an even yellow light. I felt cold. Very cold. The pain was there but it felt glossy and numb. Someone was fiddling with my side.

            “Oh good he’s awake.” A strange mousy voice clucked. Immediately I rocked up. As my eyes adjusted to the calm interior lighting I saw a modestly furnished room, complete with a mix of furniture and wall hangings ranging from modernist chic to kitschy teenage fluff. To my side was narrow balding man with dark curly hair and a large swollen nose. Hidden behind a pair of simple spectacles a pair of glassy but sympathetic grey eyes flickered across my shirtless bloodied body. He reminded me of that old man playing chess against himself in that Pixar short. You know the one.

            Avin suddenly strolled in through the corner door still dressed in her “work clothes.” She looked a little more beat up than when I last saw her. Her arms and legs were scattered with reddened patches, no doubt the result of the near constant hail of lead. She had a busted lip and small cut above her eyes which had already begun to scab over. She looked immensely tired.

            “Oh thank god. You had us fuckin’ worried there for a second.” She sighed with relief.

            “Avin dear, please watch your language. What would your sweet old mother say.” the odd older man said without taking his attentive eyes from me.

            “She’d probably ask me what the fuck was wrong me.”

            “Bah, you young people, so crude.” The old man reached down and finished tearing off a length of medical tape which he then applied to my side. As I followed his shaky little hands I saw that my knife wound had been patched up with sufficient layers of gauze, tape, and antiseptic pads. “That should fix him. Now young man I highly recommend you rest these next few days, and don’t you even think about running off and doing something stupid like that again. I might not be able to patch you as well next time.”

            I nodded foolishly. Ugh, my head felt so damn heavy, as though it were full of molten metal. Next came a surge of constant blinking, and my eyes began to burn as though I had been staring at a TV for hours.

            “Thanks,” I eventually managed to muster. The curious old man nodded and began to pack the assortment of medical supplies into an old duffel bag on the nearby coffee table.

            “Certainly. Now then,” he groaned as he rose back onto his feet. He turned to Avin who waited at the foot of the couch. “Shall I take a look at those wounds of yours dear.”

            “I’m fine Geri, thanks though.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yeah, this stuff is nothing. I just need to sleep it off, and don’t worry about Moth here, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get himself into any more trouble.” As soon as she said this she turned to me a gave a subtle wink. The old man named Geri shook his head and turned toward the door.

            “Sure, that’s what they all say. These kids these days never listen.”

            “Hey now, when have I ever disregarded any of your advice.”

            “Only every day!” Geri said with a slight chuckle. “You take care now sweetheart. If you ever have any more trouble you know how to reach me.”

            “Wait, here, take this.” Avin added as she produced a small wad of cash from her brassiere. Fuck, it seemed as though she stored everything in there. Geri simply waved it off and placed a lanky hand on Avin’s shoulder.

            “No, no dear you keep that now. I owe you for helping me with all that Gambino nonsense. Take care now, I really best be going.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, yes, just watch out for that one. I know troublemakers when I see them and well…” Geri’s voice dropped to a whisper. The two exchanged a few quiet words and nods before Geri finally opened the door. “Just watch him now. He’s on some powerful painkillers so he should be able to sleep right through the night. I wouldn’t recommend moving him until tomorrow morning and…dear, try not to break this one…”

            With that Geri left. Avin disappeared into another room for a few seconds, leaving me in place. Something about being told you’re high really adds to the intoxication. Whereas before I thought I was just groggy, once I heard “painkillers” my brain really sank into the deep end. For a good five minutes I did not move. Instead I just sat, staring forward, spine tingling with paranoia. Eventually Avin returned with a pillow and quilt.

            “Hey there little buddy. You doin’ alright?”

            I nodded in response but otherwise remained rigid.

            “By the time I got us out of there you were out cold. I wasn’t sure what your situation was…you know in terms of living or identity, so I just brought you back here.” She approached gracefully, as though something in her movements was ordained by the artistic musings of motion itself. Maybe that was just the drugs. Avin plopped the pillow down on the couch, and with one hand, gently pressed me down onto my back.

            “Hello, anyone home?” she said with a smile.

            “Yeah, no, I—what time is it?”

            “Almost two. Why?”

            “Fuck, I gotta go. I gotta…really have to—”

            But Avin wasn’t having any of it. She resisted my movement will relative ease, forcing me back down onto the stiff cushions of the couch with a single hand. She shook her head and I finally got to see her face clearly and unblemished by darkness. Green eyes, brown hair, brilliant and shiny, like…like…like

            “No, you are staying here tonight. No excuses. Now, as you probably noticed the couch is a little small, so you are welcome to share the bed.”

            Words were minced into individual syllables and phonemes as they passed through the filter of my drug addled brain. Meaning was scarcely distilled from the jumble of speech as the painkillers expanded their influence. We must have been somewhere near Barstow. I don’t remember saying anything after that, but I must have because I do distinctly recall being cutoff a second later.  

            “Shh, okay, okay how about we just sleep it off then?” Avin whispered.

            With that final question I slumped back onto the couch and watched the dizzying shadows project their mysterious movements across the ceiling. I don’t know how long Avin stayed there, but after what must have been just a few minutes the lights went out. She said something else, but the noise simply bounced around inside my head without translation.

            So, I laid there wondering about how I’d ever get home. Would she even have let me? In the small hours of the morning I felt pitiful and helpless, disgusting and possessed. I felt like I somehow owed her everything or that I had been bound to her service forever. She had marked me with attention and her scent. Oh god I smelled like her, I remember that freaked me the fuck out. It was okay, it was okay. In the end I knew it was just the drugs, but it certainly didn’t help me fall asleep. I spent most of the night guessing at what was to come, and how fucked up it was that we didn’t even know each other’s real names yet. 

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