General, you are asking me to sedate something weighing as much as a WWII destroyer." -Dr. Fitzhugh

The doorbell rang. Violet didn't look up, she kept her head buried in her arms as she slumped sitting at the kitchen table. Her father sat opposite her, wearing the same pained expression ever since she got home. Both Violet and her father assumed it would be the police.

Violet had run home after that woman saw her on the way home from school. The broken sections of asphalt and concrete shaped like size 300 sneakers leading back to the Parr residence were hard to miss. City power & water trucks were parked along the whole length of Oak St. while repairmen attended to the torn power lines and crushed subterranean water lines. All this was visible from the bay window in the Parr's living room until Helen thankfully shut the curtains. Dash was no help, sitting at the table excitedly describing, to no one in particular, the 'earthquake' that shook the neighborhood earlier. As he went into detail about how the shaking broke out all the windows of every house on the street he gave Violet a sidelong look, a sly knowing grin plastered on his face. This of course caused Violet to break down crying all over again much to her mother's and father's chagrin.

"Go to your room Dash." Helen said. Her eyes followed her husband as he walked to the front door.

"Awww I wanna see them put her in handcuffs!" whined Dash causing another burst of sobs.

"Now!" The firmness of his mother's command told Dash his fun was over for now. Standing with his hand on the doorknob, Violet's father turned back towards Helen and Violet. A half-hearted smile was all he could muster

"You know, I've created my own fair share of broken concrete and property damage, I can handle this." He turned and opened the door.

"Good afternoon Bob, quite a mess down the street" Agent Dicker nodded his head toward the small army of city repairmen. Without another word he let himself in.

"Rick thank God! We thought the police would..." Agent Dicker waved his hand cutting Helen off.

"They will be here Helen'' he said dryly. "The question is will Violet be here when they arrive?" Helen looked from Agent Dicker to her husband in confusion. "Helen," Dicker continued, "A 50ft fifteen year old smashing up a half-mile of city street, she was seen by God knows how many people...this won't be a courtesy visit by the police." Helen fell back into her chair, staring blankly at some far off point lost in thought. Her husband spoke next.

"You can relocate us? We will go anywhere just tell us what we need to do."

"In time Bob" Agent Dicker said, still looking at Helen. "But right now we need to get Violet out of here, just her."

Helen became animated, once again voicing objections while her husband sat quietly staring at Violet. Through the whole conversation she had not lifted her head but he was sure she was listening.

"You're gonna have to go with Rick, Vi." Her father said in a monotone distant voice. Helen began to cry.

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Violet sat in the back of the car as Agent Dicker drove. Nothing was said. She was able to pack a small bag, her father insisted she take her super-suit. At the time it seemed she was packing it more for his sake than her but she didn't argue. Mr. Dicker said no phones. "If you call each other the game is up, I will arrange communication." She wondered where Mr. Dicker was taking her and when she would see her family again.

"Don't worry you'll see them soon" agent Dicker said almost as if he was a part of her inner conversation.

At that moment the car was violently slung sideways by a collision. Dicker fought to maintain control but suddenly the Violet found herself thrown to the roof of the vehicle as the car flipped upside down. Blackness enveloped Violet as she slipped into unconsciousness.

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Opening her eyes Violet immediately felt claustrophobic. A bright light was only an inch from her face. Blinded, she turned her head to the right and tried looking through one bleary eye. A man in a white coat, a doctor? She wasn't sure. She could hear panicked voices but understood nothing. She couldn't move her limbs, they felt like they were tied down. The best she could do was wiggle her fingers. There! The fingers of her right hand had touched something! Her fingers searched further but with no luck. As all these disparate moments began to coalesce into full consciousness the world began to slow once again. She felt lightheaded, unable to focus on her thoughts before they drifted away to nothing. She didn't care. In fact, nothing sounded wonderful. Violet didn't even complete that thought as she closed her eyes, forgetting all and slipping back into a dreamless void.

"What the hell are you doing doctor!" General Veer barked over the intercom. "She is waking up!" Beyond the operator's station where Dr. Fitzhugh stood, the cavernous hangar was filled with the shifting form of a giant girl. The metal straps that held her in place groaned and screeched; protesting against the giant's immense size and strength. For a brief moment the giant's head turned and her right eye, unfocused as it was, fixed on Dr. Fitzhugh. Up until that moment this had all been an academic exercise for the anesthesiologist, but when that terrifying eye drilled into him, the reality of what was at stake was clear. His actions in the next few seconds would determine the fate of everyone in the hangar and possibly the entire base. Regaining his composure, he quickly did the calculations in his head and typed the required key command. He heard the industrial pumps immediately begin spinning up. He watched Violet's telemetry on the computer screen; a bead of sweat fell onto his keyboard.

"Flow rate increased," the technician manning the pumps screamed over the pandemonium. As if on cue Violet's movements slowed and then stopped, her form fully relaxed. The rise and fall of her breathing the only outward sign of life. To his right, Dr. Fitzhugh could see his assistant Andrews being helped to his feet. He was as white as a sheet and shaking.

"She touched me!" He stammered, "God in Heaven she almost had me!" Andrews began to shake violently as if in shock, he was now useless to this project that much was obvious.

To his left Dr. Fitzhugh could see that General Veers had entered the hangar and was walking directly towards him. The general's eyes told the doctor that an explanation would be demanded. The Doctor preemptively began:

"General, determining the medication rate when giving anesthesia is a tricky business, patient weight is the best metric to use." The doctor swallowed dryly and continued. "Right now our patient weighs a little over 1600 tons, we are in uncharted territory...general, you are asking me to sedate something weighing as much as a WWII destroyer. The margin between our patient being conscious and our patient dying from an overdose is razor thin. In time we will have that margin exactly...in time."

General Veer did not like being talked to this way but Dr. Fitzhugh was the only man keeping "our patient" from just getting up and leaving. Leaving and taking out this entire facility in the process. A fact made all too clear as he watched the gibbering Andrews taken outside. This would be a lot less dangerous if only they could keep her at her normal size but the preeminent Dr. Korlov was insistent. General Veers was not interested in the chemistry of the brain or behaviorism, that is why he had Dr. Korlov. What interested him was what lay in this hangar.

The general turned back toward the now unconscious girl, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing. "Extraordinary" he whispered, echoing his first thoughts when he saw her a week ago. "Oh what extraordinary things you will do..."