"Boss? I think she's still alive."
A heartbeat brought Rosie back to the park. She dragged her eyelids halfway open. It didn't take much to spot the thugs that treated her like fresh game from a hunt; plenty of them, in their machines or otherwise, laughed, grinned, and posed as they snapped pictures of their conquest. The bravest piloted their way across her colossal contours. Neither a thought nor an impulse ran through her mind, though. She barely had the strength to keep her eyes open.
But her heart kept thumping.
"You serious?" Gustav asked. She heard his mech click its metal tongue and stomp closer. "All right, anybody got a stake the size of a monument?"
That got some laughs out of the thugs. Not Rosie. Her heart just thumped a little louder.
"Bruce, you still got the big guns? Shoot her in the head."
"Gotcha, Boss!" She heard Bruce gear up his truck -- or at least, he tried to. "Uh, hold on. Think the gun needs recharging."
"How long's that gonna take?"
"Beats me."
Rosie twitched as her heart thumped louder.
"Well, hurry up." She made out The Champ as it ran a fist across its mouth. "I'm ready to get back to a normal life."
Rosie's heart thumped again. Louder. Harder.
"Huh. That's weird," said Bruce. "Now I can't get it working at all."
"What, the gun?"
"Anything. It's like the engine shut off or something."
"What, did you break it or --?" Rosie spotted The Champ as it tried to approach, but its movements grew jagged and clumsy. Five seconds later, it only moved inches at a time. "The hell? What's wrong with this thing?"
Rosie's eyelids opened by another third, spurred by a climb in temperature. Every single machine seized up. As her breathing increased, she started to understand why: pink energy surged and swirled around them. For most, that left chrome parts swarmed by ghostly mists. For some, pink sparks snapped from edge to edge. But for all of them -- including Rosie herself -- pink petals, birthed from some holy flower, fluttered throughout the park.
But she had it wrong. Those "petals" went beyond the park. Well beyond. Into the city. How deep, she couldn't begin to guess. For the most part, they swirled around the park as if caught in a whirlpool. As if carried by a certain will. A power.
It hit Rosie all at once. She remembered the words spoken in that forest.
The will deep inside.
She let out a sharp gasp as her eyes jolted wide open. Her back arched into a bridge, high enough to send thugs and machines rolling off. Well before she even processed the thought, Rosie started to stand up. The earth distorted under her. Hundreds of tons of metal tumbled from her body. The petals swirled ever more, while pink mists poisoned the park and the streets beyond.
She rose. Slowly. Steadily. She went from laying supine to a seat, to a kneel, and then up she went. As her legs pushed her skyward, the city switched between alive and dead. Whatever lights she hadn't knocked out loosed a blinding shade of pink. Only a dice roll decided whether bulbs flickered, blackened, or burst like bombs. That went on for miles.
The thugs' whimpers filled the air. "Boss? What's going on?" Bruce asked between tears.
Gustav tried to start up his mech, yet failed like everyone else. "CHAOS?" he asked. "Is it 'cause of her?"
Rosie bent into a slight stoop with arms that dangled, and fingers that convulsed at best. Ragged breaths escaped her maw as it opened and shut of its own accord. All the while, she felt her body turn hot enough to melt a glacier. Felt her nerves threaten to vibrate out of her skin. Felt her broken heart pound. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Harder. Harder.
Her heart thumped loud enough for the whole city to hear.
And then it began.
Rosie doubled over and hugged herself tight -- tight enough for her fingers to dig into bones. No matter how much she fought the blazing pain under her skin, she couldn't stop it. Her bare toes dug into solid stone, only to spread out longer, and further, and drive up towers of rock. Every inadvertent step she took, every inch she rocked made the land ripple; thugs by the dozen abandoned their machines before she trampled them into powder. Her legs widened and extended, as if to turn her limbs into heaven-piercing lances. She could only squirm and groan as she rose higher and higher. Above the park. Above rooftops. Above everything.
"Boss? What's going on?" Bruce asked.
Rosie felt it all deep inside her. Cells that expanded and multiplied; organs that kicked into overdrive; systems that tore and reformed, endlessly, to match her transformation. And it refused to stop. At best, the wounds that decorated her body disappeared. Steam emanated from even the tiniest cuts until they shut, dried, and evaporated, as if tended to by loving angels. But her growth proved far from divine. Her fifteen hundred feet became a distant, quaint memory. As the park and blocks wailed in the wake of her earth-rending weight, her shadows blacked out bigger chunks of the city. The Ferris wheel she'd dwarfed at the start shrank even further; before long, she could have held it in one hand. No matter how sharp her senses, they steadily became useless as her size ratcheted up. Once upon a time, she'd gotten boxed in by a maze of buildings; as the seconds wore on, the tallest spires turned into nondescript bumps on the ground -- and the shorter, wider buildings went completely flat.
She yelped, she growled, she squirmed and sweat. But she couldn't stop it. Any of it. She just grew. Bigger. Stronger. Tougher. Heavier. More than enough to make the Rosie from a week, day, or even hour ago nothing more than a gnat in the wind. In one final, desperate act, she let out a sky-shredding scream. And only by some miracle -- the desperate begging of the planet -- did it work. Her growth slowed down. And eventually, it stopped. That left her there, soaked, slumped, shaking, and scraping for air.
And five thousand feet tall.
Gustav got his mech to shake its head. "Oh, no."
Rosie heard the words, somehow. Even though her senses had improved, she pushed against the limit; the brute that once came in crystal clear sounded tinny and distant. Every gasp, every shout, every cry for help reached her -- voices from grown men, transformed into squeaks from baby mice. But the ratio between her and the average man made the latter look smaller than a grain of rice.
But Rosie couldn't think about it. About anything. Though her breathing calmed down, her mind remained invalid. Empty. At most, she let her arms droop and sway, while her slackened head bowed. If not for her respiration, she would have looked like a dead woman. The pink energy cleared up until every last petal vanished.
Gustav regained control of his mech. One by one, the thugs' machines went back to normal. Yet none of them moved. No one dared to try. All of them stayed still and silent. All of them, except for one.
"Boss," said Bruce. "What now?"
Bruce got his answer. That voice made Rosie jolt, capped by the boom of her heartbeat. She broke out of her slump and reared back -- too far at first, but that gave her time to pry her mouth open and suck in tankers' worth of air. When she finished, she stood up straight. Posture, corrected. Arms at her sides and fists formed. Legs spread slightly to support her weight and stance, while her taut toes cracked the asphalt.
She did that without thinking. And she showed the thugs exactly why.
Her eyes had turned pink.
"Boss, what's going on?" Bruce called out. "What should we do?"
That outburst drew Rosie's eye -- hollowed out, ice cold, and devoid of light. She turned enough to peek at the scrap of tin foil behind her. The pain that once threatened to snuff out her life had long since faded. But she didn't take a step. She stared Bruce's machine down, then set a thumb atop her tightening index finger and flicked.
That one flick vaporized Bruce, his machine, and everything a half mile past him with a bullet of whirling air.
He didn't even get to finish screaming.
"What?" Gustav wheezed. The Champ dropped to its knees.
With her face void of emotion, Rosie took her first step. The slightest twitch of her toe made what remained of the park shatter, and the tremors that followed forced buildings hundreds of feet away to collapse. Nothing she did spared Santa-In from quakes that spread fissures throughout.
The thugs turned tail and fled. "Hey! Where are you going?" Gustav yelled over burning rubber and the blaring engines. "We can make it through this! You've got the guns! And I've got The Champ! We lose now, and it's over for us humans!"
Rosie marched, unfazed by his words. She didn't even look like she heard him. Or anything -- least of all the souls she crushed underfoot.
"Fight back," Gustav said as The Champ scampered backward. "You bastards gotta fight back!"
Whether the thugs tried to run away or stand their ground, it didn't matter. Rosie went from calamitous steps to a single, focused stomp -- a slam of her sole that birthed hundreds of stalagmites. That drove faults into the park and beyond. That made thugs, in machines or not, tumble into the black canyons she'd created. But she didn't stop. At most, she swatted the stalagmites aside as she advanced, even if it meant she flung them into distant squares and plazas. She hardly noticed when her shots downed escaping mechs or military helicopters a mile away.
The Champ went from a scamper to an all-out run. "Do something! Shoot her, damn it!"
Somehow, those with weapons -- near and far, in the park or not -- found the nerve to open fire. Bullets, missiles, and rounds all hurtled toward her. But she didn't care. Every last shot hit -- and did absolutely nothing. Not one drop of blood. Not one burn. Not one scratch. The mechs that boosted into flying tackles hit her with everything they had; guns, clubs, laser blades and fangs, all carried by raw velocity, crashed into her. Nothing they did hurt her. Half of those that tried got brushed off, sent to the ground as crumbling shards. The other half? Rosie's swipe obliterated them. If her hand itself didn't hit, the hurricanes that followed ripped them apart in her stead -- and took chunks of the city with them.
Frenzied screams and death cries cut through the air. They didn't last. Whether they flew or fought, none of them escaped. None of them survived. Even those on the fringes, who had the sense to dodge the battle outright, disappeared in the wake. Soon, nothing remained of them. She'd silenced them all, so that only the crunch of ruined, tumbling earth and sizzle of crawling flames rang out. But she didn't care. She only focused on the last target.
"Stay back," said Gustav. "Stay back! I'm warning you!"
Rosie didn't stop.
"What, you think you're better than me, huh? Just 'cause you're big?" The Champ stumbled into a boxing stance, but with dismal footwork. "Don't cross me!" He ducked and sped in for a rocket-boosted straight against Rosie's shin.
The Champ's right arm instantly shattered.
Rosie didn't even let him speak. She scooped him up and dangled him at eye level as her grip crushed the machine's body. Only when she had her fill -- when she glared into the robot's quivering eyes -- did she spike him back onto solid ground. Everything below his chest broke the second he crash-landed. The remains fragmented and disintegrated, and left a broken toy lodged in a dusty crater. Unable to move. Unable to strike. Unable to stop Rosie as she crouched down, drove a nail into the machine, and ripped it in half.
The Champ was no more. Only Gustav.
"No," Gustav wheezed. "No, no, no. You can't do this. You're supposed to be a good guy, aren't you? I mean, a good girl! Woman!"
Rosie didn't even flinch.
"Don't take it out on me! I was just following orders, okay? Pierce is the guy you're really after! Take him out if you need to! Just -- please, don't do this! I'm begging you!" He dropped onto his knees and clasped his hands in prayer. "I'm sorry! I'll never lie or cheat or do another crime for as long as I live! I promise!"
That only got one reaction out of Rosie: she stood up.
Gustav looked up at her, eyes wide and tear-soaked. "You're -- you're letting me live?"
Rosie didn't answer. Not with words, at least.
She formed a fist.
Gustav's entire body turned flaccid. "No."
She reared back.
"No. No, no, no!"
She dug her fingers deep into her palm.
Gustav curled into a ball. "Please! Let me live!"
She didn't.
She threw her punch. She had to bend to do it -- reach down, and shift her stance, and fire every neuron. But she stayed on her feet. And she did it. No matter how much Gustav screamed as that moon-sized fist hurtled toward him -- made him vanish in its shadow, well before landfall -- she did it. The attack connected.
A mountain range's worth of rock erupted, and swept out from the epicenter. Billions of gales burst, and swept out from the epicenter. Tsunamis of rubble, of concrete, glass, steel, everything that comprised those feeble buildings around her -- they disappeared in the clouds that formed, and swept out from the epicenter. Trees well away ripped out of the ground. The mightiest skyscrapers toppled like dominoes, and spiraled outward as they disintegrated. A dome of searing, incinerating air pressure spread from the impact zone; it reached high enough to claw at the night, all while its diameter shoved the storm of debris farther. Farther. Farther. All to the melody of a sky-rending blast, and the harmony of lethal winds.
But the song came to an end. When it did, Rosie stood up once again, her poise firm. Though she stood at the center of the chaos -- as wreckage rained down and smoke billowed throughout -- not one speck clung to her. She didn't move until the very last crumb from the very last cloud dissolved. When it did, she saw her mission had reached its end. And all at once, a spasm shot through her.
Rosie gripped her head. Whatever pain she felt, however minimal, didn't last for more than a second. When she dropped her hand, her eyes went back to their standard blue. Her mind followed suit; thoughts, feelings, memories, conscious, sense of self, everything splashed past the broken dam in her brain. She'd gone back to normal.
She couldn't have faced a worse nightmare.
Rosie clapped her hands atop her mouth and scooted backward, only to realize that doing so caused even more destruction. As if it mattered. She scanned the area to find Pesadilla Park's remains. She couldn't. No rides greeted her. No landmarks stood out. If not for the moonlight, the area risked vanishing in the dark. But to her horror, she realized that that didn't matter, either. Even if she didn't hope for destruction -- toppled buildings, smashed cars, the usual -- she at least expected it. Rosie didn't even get that. Her motions and footsteps aside, the land around her had been completely leveled. Nothing lay around her, beside her, in front or behind besides brown earth, with less texture to it than tilled soil.
Nothing around her. Nothing, and no one.
Nothing, in a two-mile radius.
Nothing.
As soon as she started to process it, Rosie felt the pressure crush her heart. The pace of her breaths ramped up; her body's temperature jumped at random between hot and cold as her limbs numbed. One fleeting impulse made her stare at her hands.
As it turned out, she had it wrong. She'd gotten a little dirty in the wake of her attack. A clump of dirt clung to her finger -- and with it, a tiny smear of blood.
Rosie stared at that blood for five seconds. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.
On the tenth, she started screaming.
***
"Whoa, there," said Wallace. "Easy."
Chase ignored him. Even if it felt like he'd gotten trampled, he vaulted into a seat. Wallace tried and failed to lay him back down; at most, the two of them together knocked a mess of first aid gear off the counter. "Relax. I've got you."
The boy didn't thank Wallace for playing nurse. He swung his eyes around the shop -- a nook of a grocery store, with enough tightly-knit shelves to give a man claustrophobia. It had seen better nights, though. Its glass had cracked. Walls and concrete pillars, splintered. Scores of cans dotted the floor. "What happened? Where is this? What's going on?"
Wallace pressed a hand to his temple and sighed. "Feels like I'm the one who should be asking the questions, Mr. Haywood."
Chase tensed up. As his senses refocused, he heard a nearby phone whose speakers played a video at full blast. A news report, by his guess. Even if it made him wince, he spun on the counter and dropped to the floor. "I've got to know," he said gravely.
Wallace grabbed him by the shoulder. "Listen."
"Don't tell me what to --!"
"You hear it too, don't you?"
Chase stopped. Even if his concentration split, he did hear it. Not just the phone, or from the phone. He made out the motions of an earthquake. More to the point, he heard a voice. A cry that made his chest seize up.
"You know what comes next, right?"
Even if he understood, Chase didn't dare respond. He pulled away from Wallace, only to stumble and have the cop catch him. But he walked on regardless. He tugged himself around a shelf and stared at the store's corner. A bony, barely-blonde woman sat there, phone in one hand and beer bottle in the other as moonlight spilled through the window. "Who are you?" he asked.
The woman ground her head toward him, but only offered a brief glance. "Edna Reilly. You know me better as 'Ed'."
Chase's eyes slid toward her phone, and did their best to dodge the empty bottles around her.
"Want a sitrep, huh? Of course." Ed forced a laugh through her throat. "Look outside. That'll teach you plenty."
Chase didn't move.
"Scared?" Ed shoved her phone across the floor like a hockey puck, right into Chase's hands. "There you go. Damn kids." She emptied another bottle. "Can't go without their phones for a second."
No matter how much his heart screamed against it, Chase gave the phone a look -- and his blood ran cold. News crews did their best to report on the chaos, both on foot and from circling helicopters. All of them did so from a safe distance, rooted on the fringes of flattened earth. Only the military dared to get close, whether from the comfort of their vehicles or with the assurance of guns that weighed more than he did. And get close they did -- closer, and closer, to the woman on all fours, on track to drown the city's remains with hysterical screams and barges of tears. But no one needed to move an inch to get closer. She did that on their behalf. She still grew, slowly, steadily -- at least, until she let out a guttural wail. Then she shot up dozens of feet at once.
Even while on all fours, with her head gripped tight and her crown driven into the ground, she still rose a thousand feet in the air.
And she kept going higher.
Chase slid the phone back to Ed. "This can't be real," he said as his lungs emptied out. "This is not happening."
Wallace shook his head. "Ed and I saw it for ourselves. She's in a bad place. And if something doesn't change soon, we'll be right there with her."
Chase shook his head in turn.
"Listen." He grabbed Chase's shoulders and wheeled him around, then knelt to eye level. "We need to stay safe, and come up with a plan. Got it? So as hard as it is to hear, right now we need to get some distance. More distance."
"What about her?"
Wallace winced. "We can't think about --"
"What about her?"
"What about you? You might be the most important person in this city -- hell, on the planet. If anything happens to you, how do you think that'll affect her?"
No matter how much he chilled, Chase met Wallace's gaze -- and then, he ripped free from his grasp. "Let me go see her."
"You can't be serious."
Chase slapped a hand against his heart; that alone made his wounds ache and his body reel. "If I really am the world's VIP, then it doesn't matter how many bombs they throw at her. I'm the one who --"
A beer bottle whizzed past Chase's ear, then shattered against a wall. "You wanna play hero?" Ed asked. "Now?"
Chase turned and faced her in silence. Before he got a word out -- before he even tried -- Ed lurched upright and shambled toward him. "You had your chance to do the right thing," she said in a low tone. "All you had to do was be a good boy. You knew goddamn well what would happen if you went too far, but you did anyway."
"I didn't --"
"Don't you dare say it!" Ed howled. Drunk or not, she grabbed Chase and tugged him closer, with her teeth fully borne in a wolven sneer. "If you really cared about her, you would have done the right thing way before this. But you didn't. Now there's blood on your hands."
Wallace reached out for her. "Cool off. This isn't the time for --"
"Don't coddle him. Or are you gonna shrug off the officers caught in the blast? The blast that wouldn't have happened if he stayed home?"
Wallace turned away.
"You belong behind bars, kid. As guilty as it gets. So, from here on out? Sit down, shut the hell up, and do what the adults tell you to."
Chase didn't even flinch. "Are you done?"
"You piece of --"
"You called yourself her friend. I believed it then. Now I don't." Chase knocked her hand away, then glared at her with all the fire he could kindle in his eyes. "What kind of person wastes time hiding, getting drunk, and feeling sorry for herself when her friend needs help?"
Ed grabbed Chase and shoved her face into his -- and even lifted him off the floor. It didn't last. With one last grunt, she flung him down and staggered back to the corner, all so she could curl into a tight ball.
"I'm going," said Chase. "I've got to fix this."
"What are you planning to do?" Wallace asked.
"The only thing I can." The boy made his way toward the door. "If nobody else is willing to be there for her, then I will. That's all."
"That's barely a plan." Wallace trotted in front of Chase to bar his exit. "Look at you. Too much strain, and I bet those wounds of yours will tear right open. Beyond that?" He rubbed his head. "Even if you reach out to her, I don't see her reaching back. Which means --"
"Everything around her is a danger zone."
"Yeah."
"That's why you adults are here. Too scared to even try."
Wallace looked to Ed for support. She didn't give it. In the end, he rubbed his head again, and didn't dare meet Chase's eyes.
"Then I'm on my own. Fine. I'd rather bear this burden myself."
"You can't go out there. If you try to --"
"Let him go, Ben," said Ed. She lifted her head just enough to pry her eyes from her knees. "We've already walked through the gates of Hell. It's not gonna get much worse than this."
"You know it can." The cop held out a hand. "What, we should just roll the dice here? Sending him out there won't even solve the problem. The best we can hope for is --"
"Yeah, that's right. He is the best we can hope for." Ed reared back, then turned to the moon outside. "Roll the dice. If we lose, we lose. If we win? At least we won't lose as badly."
Wallace turned a pleading eye to Ed, then to Chase. Ed, Chase, Ed, Chase, with a sputtered nonresponse each time. In the end, he stepped aside and covered his face. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he muttered.
Chase waved regardless, though that gesture turned into a quick, if clumsy, salute. Without another word, he raced for the door and --
"Chase." Wallace's voice made the boy stop as he grabbed the handle. "When this is over, we're gonna have a nice, long talk. But right now, my giant idiot niece needs help. Help her."
"Yeah. I will." Chase rushed out the door, but didn't stray far from the store. He had one more thing to take care of first.
He needed a bike.
***
Bigger. Bigger. Bigger.
No matter how much she resisted, Rosie couldn't stop growing. As if she fought that hard; her mind had shattered ages ago. Sheer hysteria left her huddled there, a shrieking mess that at most tried to block out the sounds of the city. Every shout of terror, every rage-fueled order, every wail of sorrow from miles on end drilled into her ear. At best, her screams dulled the cries. At worst, the noise she made dulled when she gritted her teeth and groaned -- when another explosion of growth drove her farther. Wider. Higher.
"Open fire!"
Rosie heard the words as her screams gave way to a fresh round of hyperventilating. The army hadn't stopped opening fire; they only took seconds to reload and roll out fresh personnel. Yet they had zero chance of success. Tank rounds burst and faded with no fanfare. The jets that launched missiles scrambled as soon as they saw their offense fail. Not a single bomber got in a good hit; whatever meager damage they did got patched up by Rosie's growth. No matter what gun or machine the military threw at her, it had as much impact as an ounce of sugar.
And all the while, she only got bigger.
Bigger. Bigger. Bigger.
Rosie couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't move. Even if her limbs hadn't chilled and numbed, she had just enough sense to realize that whatever motions she made caused earthquakes. At most, she only turned to witness the soldiers who fought to contain her. "I'm sorry," she whispered at the fleas all around her, and who blurred from the tears in her eyes. "I'm -- so -- sorry --!" Another growth spurt cut her apology short -- as did the anguished moan it triggered.
"We've gotta go, now! She's not stopping!"
"Somebody, help! My friend is trapped down there!"
"Mommy? Where are you? Mommy!"
Rosie dug her palms in deeper, but the cries of the people still seeped through. "I'm sorry!" she whispered again -- and that alone outstripped the warzone. "I'm sorry!"
It didn't help. It didn't change anything. She just kept getting bigger.
Bigger. Bigger. Bigger.
"All units, cease fire!"
Rosie lifted her head. "I repeat: all units, cease fire!" She'd heard right; it took minutes on end, but the order eventually went through. Infantry, jeeps, tanks, helicopters, jets, bombers -- all of it stopped. Rosie gasped for air and tears still flooded her cheeks, but she unfurled from her ball enough to take a look. A massive congregation of soldiers held their formation, stone-still with weapons aimed at the giantess' face. One tank above all others stopped at the front; from it emerged a grayed official, with his hat and fatigues still well-adorned despite the battlefield. "This is Colonel John Hauser," he announced; the loudspeakers among the ranks blasted his message right at Rosie. "I'm here to give you an ultimatum: stand down, or we will resort to nuclear options."
Rosie froze solid.
"Preparations have been made. If I make the recommendation and order these troops to withdraw, then the powers that be will authorize and launch a nuclear strike. The first strike, if one alone isn't enough." Hauser looked around. "I shudder to think what might happen to this city. But unless you prove otherwise, you need to be eliminated."
Rosie stared at the colonel, even as he shrank before her eyes.
"This is the one act of kindness we can offer you," said Hauser. "You look like us. Talk like us. Your only option is to prove that we shouldn't attack you. And the way I see it? You'll only do that -- potentially -- if you give up all resistance. Stand down and follow orders from here on out. After that, maybe we can find a peaceful solution." He held out a hand. "What'll it be? Answer quickly, or --"
"The hell are you doing? Bomb her ass to kingdom come already!"
Pierce's voice rang out from the tank, and the mayor himself followed soon after. "You see what she did to my city? Why are you acting like she's got a future here?" He tried to seize control of the loudspeakers, but the colonel overpowered him easily. Rather than detain him, Hauser gave Pierce a glare that made him sink back; despite that, he shook his head, sighed, and offered the mic.
"Hello? Is, ah, is this thing on? Okay." Pierce slicked back his hair and put on his least-deserved smirk yet as he turned toward Rosie. "Hey, baby. How's it hanging? Having a good night?"
Rosie ground her head left and right.
"What's that? Didn't have fun with your little rampage and tantrum? Aw, what a shame. Here I was thinking that'd satisfy you. What, planning to do even more damage the second we turn our backs?"
Rosie shook her head again.
"No? Didn't think so. Know why? Because this is it for you, Blondie. There's no 'next time'. No 'happy ending'. Nothing." Pierce's smirk spun into a scowl. "You think you're allowed to walk away after all the crap you pulled? Huh?" he shouted. He pointed at the ground. "You're staying right here! You hear me? Curl up all you want! 'Cause if you take one more step, you'll be proving how big a threat you are to the human race! And then? Oh ho, then it'll be your ass! Got that?"
Rosie clutched her shoulders as shivers ran through her. Her trembles translated to tremors the whole army felt, on top of the shifts from her growth.
"See? You see?" Pierce asked as he regained his balance. "What's next, gonna get big enough to use the country as your hammock? That's not happening! So, lay down and die already! The army will help you out with that, no problem! Just say the word!"
The mayor's words echoed throughout the disaster zone. When they stopped, Pierce put his smirk back on as he adjusted his suit. "Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. I'm feeling refreshed already." He held up a finger before Hauser could take back the mic. "But, ah, you know, there is one thing you could do for me, babe. Not gonna make any promises, but you know what? Maybe it'll buy you a few extra-precious, extra-special, extra-nuke-free seconds." He patted his chest. "Apologize to me for ruining my town. Tell me I'm the boss. And give me any other compliments that pop into that pretty little head of yours. After the night I've had? I deserve it."
But Rosie didn't oblige him. She didn't do anything.
"What, you think you're in a position to make any demands?" Pierce aimed a finger at her. "All right, yeah, you're big. But it's the same damn story as always: there's one of you, and billions of us. Majority rules. You should've accepted that long ago. Should've kept your head down and played by our rules!"
Rosie heard Pierce's every word, especially when his tirade called her an inbred hick and an overstuffed blow-up doll. As the seconds wore on, her mind glued itself back together. For all the noise, rage, insults, and horror that echoed, her thoughts took priority.
No. She had it wrong. Not her thoughts. Not entirely. In that dark hour, a night framed by flames and rubble, Rosie didn't dwell on her own words. She remembered Kira's instead, from her stern-faced plea to the aching heart behind them. She hadn't forgotten what that woman had wished of her.
She spoke of a sacrifice. And in that moment, Rosie couldn't think of a good reason not to.
Pierce's blather drew her eye for a fleeting moment. She couldn't pay attention to him anymore, even if he switched at random between insults, grandstanding, and dodging the colonel's attempts to cut him off. Antics aside, he had it right. Everyone had it right. Everyone who had warned her, told her off, asked her to stay out of it, wanted her gone, needed her compliance, called her a villain, a threat, a nuisance, a monster -- every single member of society, of the real world worked to keep the peace. She didn't. The world she'd outgrown decades ago paid the price for her delusions.
Rosie's tears dried up. Her trembling stopped, though she still felt nauseous and had a headache eager to rip her in half. She took in air, but her lungs and heart worked in overdrive. On top of it all, she still hadn't stopped growing. She didn't dare count how many thousands of feet she'd reached. But she realized it didn't matter. It would never have to again. No bomb or bullet could faze her. But as she pressed a hand into the earth, she wondered: could an unstoppable force break an immovable object?
She had to find out.
She shut her eyes and tried her hardest to take a deep breath -- the last, most soothing breath she'd ever get. But just like everything else in her life, she botched that, too. No matter how much it made her heart ache, no matter how quickly it made fresh lakes of tears gather in the corners of her eyes, she knew what she had to do. For the survivors. For the people. For good of the world she didn't belong in.
She glanced at her hand. Still working. Still under control. That left her with one thing left to do. One more impulse, and --
"I'm still here."
Rosie stifled a gasp. Had she done enough to avoid suspicion? Yes, but just barely. She had her reprieve -- and with it, she shifted her eyes toward the source. No matter how small the city had gotten, she picked up fine details -- including the boy that wobbled toward her on a stolen bike.
"Did you hear me?" Chase asked. "I'm still -- right here." They still had a massive gap between them, far enough for him to go unnoticed by any soldiers, or even encroach on the disaster zone. That didn't matter to him; he pedaled as best he could, no matter how much he leaned or veered off-course. "You're not -- getting rid of me -- that easily!"
It took everything Rosie had to avoid calling out his name.
"I haven't forgotten. Neither have you." Chase clenched his teeth as sweat soaked him; even then, he pumped like mad to make it down the street. "That day, five years ago, I ran away from you. I got scared. Scared of what you did. What you could do. And -- what I thought you were. It was one of the worst days of my life. But you had it so -- so much worse."
Chase's legs gave out. He fell and crash-landed -- but even then, he pried his face from the asphalt and dragged himself closer. "I was selfish," he said with a growl. "I still am. I put my needs over yours -- again and again. But I haven't forgotten that day. In fact -- to this day, I -- I regret what I did back then. I hated myself for being so cowardly. Weak. Heartless." He propped himself up with a forearm to draw breath, even if it meant he gave Rosie a good view of the blood that dripped from his wounds. He didn't stay up for long; yet, barely a second after he collapsed, he went back to dragging. "I won't regret today."
Rosie's head twitched left and right.
"You may have done bad things. Made mistakes. But I'll accept all of that and more. Because -- even if you can lay waste to this whole planet, you're the one person I'll never, ever doubt." Chase shook his head in turn. "I can't doubt it. I've seen your kindness, and warmth, and heart, and smile. It's just the way I remember it. And I can't -- won't let that disappear."
Chase stopped crawling. He couldn't go any farther. But that didn't stop him from propping himself up one more time. "The whole world's been against you since day one. It shouldn't be. Someday, I'm gonna change that. Someday, when I have power. But -- you have the power --!" He fell back to the ground; after that, he could only pry his face from the ruined street and glare at her. "You have the heart for it! Trust it! Use it! Not for this city! Not for others! For your vision! For your dream! I know that, if you had the chance, you'd make this messed-up world one where everyone can smile! That's a dream I can believe in -- and why I'll always believe in you!"
He stuck out a hand. "I love you, Mom!"
And before Rosie knew it, she stuck out a hand, too.
"What the -- crap!" Pierce yelled. He jumped back and nearly tugged Hauser along with him. "Get the bombs ready! She's going on the attack!"
Rosie snapped back to her senses as she pulled her hand in. The chatter of the colonel and his army followed, but she didn't care. She looked at that tiny speck in the distance -- made eye contact with her son as he used his last ounce of strength to smile. Not a smirk. Not a simper. The first, most genuine smile he'd made in half a decade -- the perfect fit for a happy, eleven-year-old boy.
It didn't last. He flopped onto the ground.
Though the sight of it gave Rosie a shock, he did exactly what he needed. Her temperature slowly went back to normal. Her organs doused the fires within. With her lungs restored, she breathed in and out to relax herself. When she did, she went from all fours to sitting on her shins, all so she could stare at the distant sky -- even if the heavens above had gotten a whole lot closer.
"What are you up to?" Pierce asked, but waved the thought aside. "Scratch that. What's it gonna be, Blondie?"
Rosie's gaze glided back down to the still-shrinking Pierce -- and as it did, she brushed the hair clear from her eye. "You're not gonna bomb me."
"You serious?"
"Yup. Nobody's droppin' any more bombs tonight." Her eyes slid to each soldier and machine in turn. "And none o' y'all are gonna shoot me. You're gonna sit there and let me go. 'Kay?"
Pierce's jaw dropped. "No, no, no, no, no. Oh no. Clearly, you've forgotten how things work around here. Need a reminder? Here it is: you don't have a say in this! Give it up and let us humans --!"
"I already said it plenty o' times tonight: ya can't stop me. But that'd mean I wanna stop y'all. Any of y'all. And I don't." Rosie shifted as carefully as she could onto one knee; no matter how slow her motions, she still broke the army's formations. "I know the world doesn't belong to me. But, with the way things are now? Doesn't belong to y'all, either. The power that every single human on Earth has, together, equals one o' me. Can't even try and pretend otherwise."
"What are you getting at? What do you want?"
"The way it always should've been: for us to share the world. I hope someday, y'all will understand that -- and we can all live in peace. Love and respect others, and make each other smile. And if nobody here's willin' to make that happen? If nobody anywhere's gonna take a stand? I will. Let me go, and take a step toward that."
Rosie didn't wait for, or need, their approval. Just as she had gotten on her knee, she started the cautious, deliberate process of standing up. Pierce, Hauser, and myriad war machines plummeted as her head surged toward the sky. Near or far, her ascent brought with it awed gasps.
"Hey! Cut that out!" Pierce yelled -- though even with the loudspeakers' boost, his voice became more insignificant. "You're supposed to give up! No more fighting back, unless you want more people to die!" He stomped his foot, for all the good it did. "What, you think you can just walk away from this? From me? I've got the army on my side! We'll blow you up before you can even say --!"
"I'm sorry," said Rosie. She let the words echo all the way to Santa-In's borders. In the silence that followed, she stretched her freshly-gargantuan body -- slowly, subtly, sensibly -- and took in the sights as she drew breaths. Her bird's eye view left the city mere degrees above flat, and getting flatter; at most, she traced the outlines of structures thanks to the streets and far-off lights. "I'm sorry for what I did. But that's why we've both gotta end this. Now." Even with thousands of feet between them -- and steadily more, as her heart thumped on -- Rosie looked down at the bug-sized mayor. "Call it off. The bombs, the army, everythin'. You're not gonna have any more trouble from me tonight."
Pierce reared all the way back to look at her face, but nodded nonetheless. "Yeah, I agree. Know why? Because this here is the last night you'll ever spend here on --"
"That's not gonna work. You'll just be makin' a bigger mess."
"Like hell! You know anyone who could shrug off a nuke?"
"Yup. Me."
Pierce's mouth flapped, but no sounds followed.
"Nobody can hurt me now. And I don't wanna hurt anybody. That's what they call a 'stalemate', huh? So, I figure it's time to stop playin' this game. Gotta be responsible adults. Do the right thing. And -- what was that motto o' yours?" She shook her head as a microscopic laugh slipped past her lips. "Sorry. I know it's important to ya and all, but -- I dunno. Always seemed like a real clumsy line to me."
Rosie took another deep breath -- deep enough to tilt her head back, and give her a full view of the stars. No matter how much chatter nibbled at the edges of her soles, she ignored everything. She simply took that first, promised step.
One step. That was all she needed to clear almost half a mile.
"What the hell?" Pierce shouted -- without the loudspeakers, since Rosie's step bowled them over. Even then, he scrambled behind her as she got ready for her second move. "What the hell? You think you can walk away from me? Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am? I'm the boss, you hear me? I'm the --!"
Hauser grabbed Pierce's shoulder, and with more than enough force to anchor him to the spot. "Enough. It's over."
"Get real! Call in your bomber boys and --!"
"No." The colonel shook his head slowly. "She called it a stalemate. I agree. It's going to take much more than nukes to get rid of her."
"Come on! It's just a bluff! She's only trying to save her giant ass!"
Rosie heard the argument behind her, yet did her best to set it out of her mind. As her second, tremorous step brought her back to solid footing, she focused on the one spot, and one person, that mattered. If she could get there and --
"Don't walk away from me! And look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Rosie didn't oblige. At most, she only listened to the mayor's pattering footsteps. "This isn't how the story ends! You're supposed to give up and let me do what I want! Get down on your knees and -- and do what I say, damn it! Apologize! And -- hey! Listen to me! Listen! You don't rule over me, Tiny! I rule you! This is my city, and my rules! And as long as I'm the boss, you'd better --!"
"Pierce."
Pierce froze.
"Not long ago, one o' your men called me the villain. I didn't believe him then -- least, I didn't want to. Now I do." She turned just enough -- just enough to glare at Pierce with one single, inferno-lit eye. "If it ever comes down to it, I'll prove how bad a villain I can be. Starting with you."
Pierce unfroze. Turned blue. Collapsed into a seat. Scrambled back on all fours, drenched in sweat and whimpering, until he crashed into a wall of soldiers. No matter how much they held and accommodated him, they couldn't relieve him. As he went limp in their grip and broke down into tears, he simply relieved himself.
Rosie didn't laugh. Didn't blink. Didn't smile. Didn't care. She turned around and went back to walking.
And she still grew bigger.