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.