“In other news, authorities remain baffled by the sudden disappearance of the Statue of Liberty. It joins an extensive list of missing monuments and artefacts, including the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Unity, and the Mona Lisa. Law agencies around the globe suspect these events to be connected but have yet to determine the means or motive, let alone a culprit. Current speculation points to Manipulator involvement.”
…
“Lotta freaky shit going on lately, huh?” Clyde remarked, scratching his shoulder. His Kevlar vest was too tight, and his regular requests to get a larger replacement all went unheeded.
“You’s said it,” Biggs replied, tapping the side of his AK-47. “Mabel’s acting all paranoid, thinks she’s going to wake up to the whole house missing. So I says to Mabel I says, ‘Honey, it’s only things worth a damn are going missing. Our shack’s staying right where it is, next to that sumbitch neighbor of ours and his shit slinging pupper.’” Biggs and Clyde stood outside the front entrance to the Percival Memorial Bank, decked out in their uniforms and armed to the teeth. Normally, the financial institution would keep its manned security more discreet, but this afternoon the whole building was teeming with armed guards.
“I wouldn’t be too sure. I heard the other day all the elephants in the zoo went missing. Not escaped, like they all went poof and vanished into thin air. And there’s all this talk of a calling card.” Two days ago, the bank’s director, Henry Percival, found an alarming note stuffed in his mailbox.
In two days’ time, I shall abscond with the Sapphire of Iskandar. Be a dear and keep it polished for me ‘til then. -Forever my own, Evelyn Mons.
Such toothless threats would usually be written off as a prank in poor taste, but the sapphire, a one-of-a-kind treasure coveted by the legendary conqueror, Alexandar the Great, was a recent addition to the bank’s storied collection, its inclusion only known to the director and the jewel’s owner. And with all the recent disappearances, not to mention the rise in eccentric Manipulators out to make a name for themselves any way they saw fit, the director wasn’t letting some wannabe phantom thief besmirch his institution’s good name.
“Hey, Clyde, you’s seeing what I’m seeing?”
“You talking about that giant red balloon floating our way?” A rubber bubble drifted through the city street, hovering over busy traffic like a rogue parade float. It was a red balloon with a long string, the classic design one would expect a child to hold onto while strolling through the park, only this one was large enough to put Macy’s to shame. Cars stopped and pedestrians gaped as the unknown floating object cast them in shadow, inching ever closer to the downtown bank building.
“No, I’m talking ‘bout the partly cloudy weather.” Biggs smacked Clyde upside the head. “Of course I’m talking about the balloon, you numbskull!”
“You asked!” Clyde cried, clutching the side of his dome.
Biggs reached for the radio strapped to his vest. “Yo, Boss, we’s got a situation on our hands. Do we’s got permission to shoot?” The radio crackled and the voice of a cranky geezer clamored out.
“Yes! Shoot! What do you think I armed you pillocks for!?” The pair didn’t hesitate, drawing their rifles at the balloon. Armed guards peeked out from windows spread across the twenty-story high-rise, as well as flooding the roof’s guardrail, each pointing heavy artillery at the foreign object. In a matter of seconds, the once calm city block erupted in a cacophony of gunfire as a relentless storm of led was poured into the rubber sphere. The balloon put up no resistance, popping with a thunderous bang and releasing a white cloud of smoke out onto the street, enshrouding the bank and all around it in a translucent haze.
“Tear gas!” Biggs shouted, as he collapsed in a coughing fit. Clyde and the rest of the armed forces were no better off, water leaking out of his eyes harder than the leak in his basement’s sum pump. Through the gas and the tears, the two could barely make out the shady figure dashing past them into the bank.
“What are you idiots doing!?” Mr. Percival shouted from the command center. He was surrounded by television screens giving him a near omniscient view of every corner of his bank while desk jockeys scrambled sending updates to the operatives scattered throughout the building. “Get this situation under control!”
The shady figure, donned in a gas mask and covered from head to toe in skintight leather, darted through the hallways, barreling towards the staircase further into the first floor. Beside the stairs was the public bathrooms, a guard standing outside hastily fastening his belt.
“H-hold it right there!” he yelled, but before he could even unholster his gun, an expanding mass of grey hide burst out of the restroom.
“Bvarooooooooomf!” An elephant rapidly expanded into the hallway, the shocked bewilderment etched into its face mirroring the guard it nearly trampled. A trumpeting chorus rang out throughout the upper floors as elephants stampeded out of every bathroom, wrecking everything in their path and preventing the guards from performing their duties in any semblance of an organized manner. The intruder slipped past the rampaging beast and ran up the staircase, echoes of the savannah blaring from every exit as she made her ascent.
The shady figure leapt out onto the fifth floor and made for the center of the building, running into a group of guards on the way.
“Freeze!” one shouted, but it was too late. From out of nowhere, a cup of chocolate pudding appeared in the intruder’s hand. The guards, with guns drawn, glanced at one another, each as bemused as the next. The intruder peeled open the pudding cup and dipped her bare forefinger into the treat. With a flick, the cup went flying towards the guards, the pudding expanding into a chocolate tidal wave. “Agh!” The guards all collapsed under the spreading sea of sweetness, the unknown entity vanishing from sight as pudding overtook the floor. The entire hallway and every room filled up with the yummy dessert until the floor caved under the increasing weight.
“Dammit!” Mr. Percival slammed his fist against a desk. “You utterly useless nincompoops!” The vault containing the treasured sapphire, a 1’x1’ steel alloy box mounted firmly in a carbon-reinforced wall, lied on the fourth floor, tucked away in a once secure room built with the intent of holding the bank’s rarest oddities. But with the destruction of the floor above and everything covered in pudding, not to mention the stampeding elephants, the guards had no easy means of reaching the vault. Surely, the intruder must have fallen victim to the topsy-turvey maelstrom of her own devising, but the security camera live-feed painted a different picture. The vault’s dial twisted clockwise, counterclockwise, and clockwise again, moving all on its own until the safe door creaked open ajar, not even enough for a fly to fit through. But that proved no problem for the speck slipping in.
Once inside, the thief’s body stretched upwards and out, a grain of dust filling into a half-foot hourglass veiled in leather. Even at six inches, her curves put any doll’s to shame, her assets accentuated by the skin-tight bodysuit. She tossed her now obsolete gas mask aside and shrunk it to oblivion, revealing a stunning visage framed by a brilliant brunette bouffant that cascaded into curly waves crashing off her back and shoulders. Those who met Evelynn Mons, had seen her in the flesh, knew her to be a jewel worth more than all the splendor in the world. “All of life's riches belong solely to me,” she once declared, “for I can fit everything in the palm of my hand.”
Before her sat a lockbox containing her treasure, a less resplendent jewel but desirable all the same to the comely cat burglar. A simple padlock was the last line of defense, and a touch was all it took to reduce it to nothing, shattering the metal clasp as the shrinking lock tightened around it. Lifting open the box’s lid was easy enough, letting the sliver of light dripping through the cracked door glimmer off the radiant blue gem. But Evelynn didn’t have the time to admire its gleam, shrinking it smaller than a pebble with but a touch. She unzipped her bodysuit past her chest, opening the only pocket available in her form fitting attire, and pushed the shrunken sapphire between the folds of her ample breasts. With her prize in tow, the thief reverted to speck size and slipped out of the vault.
Guards could be heard around the corner, wading through a stagnant river of pudding, so Evelynn made escaping her priority. Outside the safe, she landed on the chocolate canal and dipped her hand into the desert, causing it to expand and create an upstream that shot her towards a vent near the ceiling. At her diminished size, she easily snaked through the grate, landing in the ventilation shaft and growing to a more comfortable size to sprint through the metal corridor. In a matter of minutes, the shady intruder would make it out of the building into the bustling metropolis without a trace, another rat in the concrete jungle.
…
“Inspector Vittoria Napolitano, ICPO.” The woman in a grey suit and old-timey trench coat held out her badge to the copper behind the yellow tape. “I’m here on orders from Interpol to investigate the Sapphire of Iskandar theft.” Underneath her brimmed hat were black bangs with an edge as straight as a ruler, her hair cut in an orderly bob. Her features were sharp, her thick black brows angled in a permanent display of righteous determination.
The beat cop had his doubts, eyeing her and her badge, but lifted the tape for her, notifying his superior via radio as she passed by. The inspector had a powerful gait, each step deliberate and orderly as she approached a police van parked outside the building. The bank itself was a mess, pudding pouring out of the fourth and fifth floor windows, the outside covered in tattered shreds of rubber, and animal control leading elephants out the front entrance to be returned to the zoo; the ones trapped on the higher floors had to be lifted out with cranes.
Vittoria entered the van and clocked the multiple monitors reviewing the security footage. “What have you guys got so far?” she asked, the collapsing fifth floor repeating on loop.
“We’re cleaning up the footage we managed to salvage, but a lot of the fourth-floor ceiling cameras were taken out in the collapse,” Officer Reynolds responded. One look at the woman's wardrobe was all he needed to know he was talking to a detective. He cut over to first floor footage of Evelynn darting through the halls and taking out a guard with an elephant. “It's safe to say we're dealing with a Manipulator, and judging by her ‘features,’ I'm pretty confident it's a woman.”
“She identified herself in the calling card as Evelynn Mons,” the inspector recalled. “Doubt it's her real name. No fingerprints on the card and the handwriting didn't match anything in our database. What of her breaking into the vault? Did you recover any footage of that?”
“We did. Fortunate for us, that was one of the few cameras left standing.” Footage of the vault's dial moving on its own popped up on screen, showing the upstream of pudding shooting towards the vent shortly after.
“Can you zoom in on the dial?”
“Yes, but it's a blurry mess at the moment. We're enhancing the images as we speak. Should be done in a minute.” The inspector contemplated the facts known so far. The officer's earlier assessment was correct; there could be no doubt these miracles were performed by a Manipulator. Excitement bubbled in the back of Vittoria's brain, behind her stoic façade. Superior specimens to the traditional criminal, Manipulators were each their own puzzle to crack. What powers did they hold? How did they trigger them? What flaws did their abilities come with, and how best to exploit them? The gears spun as the inspector put the pieces together.
“Can I help you, Miss?” An old, portly fellow in a blue uniform stepped into the van. Judging by his authoritative demeanor, caddish tone, and balding head, Vittoria figured him the captain in charge of the crime scene.
“Inspector Vittoria Napolitano, ICPO. I'm here on orders from…”
“I don't give a damn why you're here,” the captain barked. “You can ship your pretty little ass back to France and tell Interpol that we have everything under con- cuh- c- Achoo!” The captain felt his blood chill the longer he spoke, goosebumps breaking out across his arms as the temperature around him plummeted.
“Do you have any Manipulators on your task force?” Vittoria asked with a frigid bite.
“N-n-n-no.” The captain shivered, unsure of where this sudden cold wave came from or why he was the only one that felt it. The only thing harsher than the arctic air was the icy glare Inspector Napolitano shot his way. “We don't need those freaks. You don't have any evidence to prove the perp's a Manipulator.”
“If you have another explanation for the dozen elephants appearing out of nowhere inside an inner-city bank and the two tons of pudding leaking from the windows, then I'm all ears. But until then, on behalf of Interpol, I will be immediately acquiescing control of this case. I expect the complete cooperation of your officers and all local personnel.”
“Y-you have no right!”
“Article 626a of the Global Manipulator Accords gives me, as a licensed ICPO inspector, full authority to assume leadership over any case involving Manipulators with total compliance from local law enforcement. If you have any grievances to air, you can take the trip to France yourself.”
“Ma'am, the footage is ready,” the officer said, ignoring the steam pouring out of his superior's ears. Vittoria returned her attention to the monitor, turning her back on the captain as if he were no longer there.
“Good. Zoom in on that dial and play back the footage.” The officer complied, blowing up the image until the dial took up the entirety of the screen. Running along the top as if it were a treadmill, a woman, no taller than half an inch and clad in skintight leather, spun the dial with her feet, stopping whenever she heard the click. “There's all the proof I need, Captain. This Evelynn Mons character is a Manipulator with size shifting capabilities.” Her focus turned inward as she formulated a hypothesis. “It appears she can alter the size of herself and objects around her, including living things. That would explain the giant balloon from the witness accounts, the sudden reappearance of the missing elephants, and where all this pudding came from. She probably planted the elephants throughout the bank ahead of the heist. We’ll want to look over security footage from past week to see if we can spot her scoping out the place.” Vittoria noted that the thief wore no gloves, odd behavior for a professional crook. “Zoom out and continue playing.” The footage continued for a minute until the pudding began to bubble up. “Freeze it there!” She pointed at the rising dessert on the screen. “Zoom in there.” Enhancing the image showed the thief, no longer donning her mask, dipping her bare hands in the pudding just as it shot her upwards. “That's it. It's through touch. She must need to touch objects to affect them, otherwise she could have shrunk all the guards from a distance and not bothered with this madness.”
“But ma'am,” Officer Reynolds raised, “what about the elephants? Witness accounts corroborate that the elephants all appeared at the same time.”
Vittoria rubbed her chin and mulled it over. “Right, that's a good point. There must be more to it. Perhaps she only needs to touch the objects during the initial change, but can restore them to their original size on a whim? Or maybe her powers are set to an internal timer. We'll need to investigate further. When we get to the station, I want to run a full check on her face and her name against the Interpol database, see what turns up. Captain!”
“W-what?” he answered with a scowl, still shivering in the cold.
“I’ll need an office set aside for me. I would prefer a mahogany desk, but I’ll settle for oak if that’s all that’s available. I also expect you to supply coffee to me and the rest of the force; it’s going to be a long night. I take one cream and no sugar. Check with Reynolds here on everyone else’s preferences.” Reynolds was shocked she caught his name without introducing himself, but he supposed a detective from Interpol should be observant enough to clock a nametag. The captain didn’t respond, refusing to meet such ridiculous demands. “Captain!”
“Y-yes ma’am.”
…
That evening, Evelynn stopped by The Junkyard, an outdoor club built out of a long-abandoned scrap heap. The club featured a bar, dining area, dance floor, and DJ set with towering subwoofers, all surrounded by mountains of garbage and tucked away from prying eyes, making it the preferred pitstop for those who made a living skirting the law. Still adorned in her thief’s attire, the busty brunette drew eyes from across the club as she moseyed over to her usual table, sitting across from a female samurai.
“How'd it go, Lady Evelynn?” the young woman asked. Tomoe Uesugi, in her haori, kimono, and hakama, stood out amongst the street punks and ne’er-do-wells frequenting the club. Her straight, raven hair hung past her gaunt face, drooping over her scrawny shoulders. In one hand, she held a katana with a plain, wooden hilt, and in the other, a designer, name-brand purse that clashed with her traditional ensemble. She was the only one in the club drinking tea instead of booze, Tomoe being the only reason the establishment even carried the beverage.
“See for yourself,” Evelynn replied, pulling the miniaturized sapphire out from her cleavage and restoring it to size between her fingers. The gem dazzled brilliantly in the sporadic rave lights, drawing a delightful grin from the thief’s cohort. “Darling thing, isn’t it? It’ll pair well with the rest of my collection.” On cue, Tomoe opened the purse and grabbed the gemstone, placing the blue rock between the shrunken Statue of Liberty and the deflated Eiffel Tower.
“Have you set your set eyes on your next mark?” Tomoe asked eagerly. The young samurai’s eyes pleaded like a puppy’s. “I can make myself available, if you’d like my assistance. Not that you need it, of course, but if you’d like to let me carry some of the burden, not that helping you would be a burden, but if you’d prefer I accompany you…”
“I’m not sure yet,” Evelynn responded, cutting off the rambling ronin. “A real challenge would be nice for once. I mean, the Mona Lisa had its hurdles, what with locating the real one’s whereabouts, but I’m looking for something that will really set my heart ablaze.”
I could set your heart ablaze, Tomoe dreamed, if you’d let me.
“Seriously, I thought sending an advance notice would heighten the stakes, but it seems I put too much faith in the target’s security measures. Maybe next time they’ll set me up with a proper welcome party. Oh, but if I ever stumble upon a can I can’t open, I’ll be sure to call for you. For now, I’m in the mood to celebrate.” Evelynn stood up, kicked off her boots, and unzipped her bodysuit, stepping out into her birthday suit. By the time she handed her discarded clothing to her awe-struck cohort, the buxom brunette was already ten feet tall and growing further.
“Would you care for me to join you?” Tomoe kept her eyes trained on her partner in crime’s as the words plunked from her quivering lips.
“Here, darling? Oh no, I wouldn’t want to muss your pretty kimono. Besides, you have an important job to do,” she said, pointing at her purse. “You’re the only one I can trust to look after my collection. Can’t have you getting distracted, can we?” The ever-expanding giantess sauntered into the center of the dance floor, her thirty going on fifty-foot figure stretching above the mountains of garbage surrounding the club. The clubgoers all made way, their wide grins and wanting eyes sparkling in anticipation. “Which of you should I play with tonight?” Evelynn asked, bending forward with her hands on her knees and scanning the crowd for cuties. A shapely woman in a sequin dress stole her attention, the little one’s legs shaking as a massive hand reached down for her.
Evelynn sat down in the middle of the dance floor, her gargantuan ass missing a couple below by a hair. The DJ didn’t stop the beat. If anything, he ramped the tempo up, ready to blow the roof off this outdoor crib. The patrons either kept pace with the rising bpm or tried to join in on the main attraction. While men and women began scaling her, Evelynn shoved the woman headfirst into her vagina, bucking at the body writhing against the wet prison walls. Whether that wriggling was out of arousal or anguish wasn’t Evelynn’s concern. The dance floor shook with every step of the dancers and every gyration of the fifty-foot beauty. Clubgoers climbed up her thigh, her arm, her feet; one man hopped onto her breast, scrambling onto it using the nipple as a foothold.
Tomoe watched the public display from the table; bitterness, envy, disgust, yearning, and all manner of selfish emotions corroded her mind. They're just toys to her, she convinced herself. Playthings to be forgotten once their use has worn out. I'm special. She's not going to pleasure herself with me on a whim, out in public for all the drooling fools to gawk at. She's saving me, waiting for the pristine moment to savor an unforgettable experience, to throw herself at me with her whole heart, to love me as I do her. Yes, release your base desires on these unworthy dolts. I'll wait as long as you require and be ready the moment you desire.
While Tomoe fantasized, Evelynn continued to ravage the dance floor. The woman inside her sunk so far in that only her flailing feet stuck out between the voracious lips. A dozen people crawled along the giantess’ body, kissing, dancing, massaging, humping, whatever their lust drove them to do, their souls relinquishing control to the beat of the music. Evelynn leaned back, her long hair sweeping dancers off their feet, and filled the airwaves with her moaning. Pangs of jealousy threatened to tear Tomoe's mind asunder as she watched dutifully from afar.
Someday, she will be mine.