"All right, boys. What's your take on Blondie?"
Pierce reached across the limo and nudged Stalk in the shoulder. No reaction. At most, he only shifted his gaze to the right, as if to ask for advice. But Baldwin didn't offer him anything. He sat there, hands clasped tight as he leaned forward and set his elbows atop his knees.
He hoped, dearly, that Stalk would keep running interference. Either that, or his fearsome looks -- capped with gunmetal gray eyes -- would ward the mayor off. Back in the day, Baldwin heard people describe him as "the beast slayer"; in the years since, he hadn't done much to change his image. Pierce's mere presence made sure the rage stayed carved into his face -- a compliment to the ragged, browned scars, and volatile enough to make his golden hair bristle. Only an act of God let him wear that tie-less suit, half-buttoned or otherwise. One wrong move would have made his muscles shred the entire outfit.
"And did you see the size of them? Bigger than her head! I know I say that a lot, but I mean it this time." Pierce rubbed his chin like some seasoned sage. "Course, that's me making a little, ah, observation. They say anything more than a handful is a waste, so I'd need to give the proper assessment first." He slapped his thigh and flashed a grin. "But man, those mountains! And that huge ass made her dress look painted on!"
Stalk stared dead ahead, unmoved. It would have made Baldwin jealous if he didn't wish his eyes alone could impale the mayor.
"Come on. Being around a girl like that has gotta get you revved up!" Pierce cocked his head. "What, not a fan? I don't blame you. I'm into the willowy type -- but, she carries the weight well. Soft, but smooth; thick, but tight. Just thin enough. Baby doll's got a good personal trainer on --"
"Have you fallen for her?" Stalk asked.
"What? Oh, hell no!" Pierce shook a finger at him. "You don't have to love a girl to ogle of her. You dig?"
Stalk's expression didn't change in the slightest. At most, he only pulled out his notebook and wrote on. "A rose of titans -- wreathed in the mightiest thorns -- draws more than mere blood." He tore out the page and showed it to Pierce, then let it flutter out the window.
Pierce turned to Baldwin. "You see what I have to deal with? This is what I gotta deal with --"
"Enough," said Baldwin.
"Hey, what's with the harsh --?"
"Enough." Baldwin's stare turned volcanic. "Stop. Talking."
Silence followed. Despite his gratitude for it, Baldwin only cooled by five degrees -- so in the end, he drew a deep breath and set his chin on his hands. "Let's get started."
"With what?"
Baldwin shoved the magma down his throat. "Everything tied to your plans and ours. Especially because of her."
"She is worthy of concern," said Stalk.
Baldwin nodded. "What's your take? You are the 'boss' here."
"Yeah, that's right, I am the boss." The sound of it made Pierce's smirk resurface in full, and he lounged in his seat. "What, you think she's worth worrying about? Yeah, she's big, but the odds aren't in her favor."
"Is that right?"
"Sure. If we're talking numbers, there's one of her and plenty of us. Plus, you know the bible. Goliath loses, remember?" Pierce eyed the limo's interior. "Damn, forgot to tell the guys to restock the fridge. Was gonna ask if you wanted a drink, but --"
"She's measurable in stories, and can survive skirmishes with our arms. What will you do if she keeps growing?"
"You mean besides count on you and your guys to take her out?"
Baldwin stared on, but shook his head regardless. "As the mayor, you can't count on violence to solve your problems."
"Can't I?" Pierce had a laugh, then shrugged and sighed contentedly. "Look, the bigger she gets, the more stuff she'll break. She's public enemy number one, so why not play it up? Grease those wheels so that she's the de facto villain. A little speech here, a little policing there, and, ah, suddenly we'll have a lot more wiggle room while she loses it."
"Yet you offered the olive branch earlier."
"True, true. But that's the thing: it was a PR move. Putting all the pressure on her while we look like saints. And by 'we' I mean 'me'." Pierce chuckled as he slicked his hair back. "No way she'll go two days without another disaster. Course, the plan is to have guys go in and hassle her -- get her worked up so she makes the headlines in a big way. Next thing you know? 'Oh, Randall! Oh, please! Save us from this awful monster!' Bing, bang, boom. I'm the hero. And the heroes always win in the end."
Baldwin's gaze didn't falter. "You've confirmed we have the firepower to fight her?"
"Well, I mean -- not personally. But that's what you guys are for. I'm the face, and you're the muscle." The mayor rubbed his temple. "And the brains. Half of 'em, at least. Still don't know how a girl gets that big."
"We've already given you the rundown."
"Yeah, but I wasn't paying attention. Had a lot of money riding on my fantasy football league, you know?"
Baldwin massaged his temples in turn.
"It is likely that she works on the same principle as the Kernels," said Stalk. He set a hand inside his pocket; Baldwin knew, instinctively, that he slid his fingers across another chrome cube. "They have no need for typical energy; their primary source is CHAOS."
"Yeah, yeah, right." Pierce tilted his head. "What was that again?"
"It is born, and moved, by the actions of the world. Most commonly, by the motions of living beings -- especially if, and when, they clash. With one another. With nature. With the laws, written and unwritten. The romance behind it is indisputable; the CHAOS born from those that defy law gives CHAOS the ability to defy law further."
Baldwin nodded. "The Kernels let us harness CHAOS. And the more we have, the more weapons we can produce. Stronger weapons."
The mayor scratched at his ear. "So, what's with Legs McGee?"
"She is anomalous," Stalk answered. "The details behind her nature are still a mystery, admittedly." He glanced aside, but focused on Pierce seconds later. "I would assume her body naturally generates and internalizes CHAOS. While she does react to the energy around her -- which, I imagine, also triggers her growth -- the core of it may come from within. Deprived of an outlet, the end results are clear."
"You're kidding me."
"I am not. You see, there is one other way to stimulate CHAOS." Stalk pointed to his chest. "The heart and its motions have an impact. Thus, those among our ranks with the most resonant hearts can bend Kernel output to their will. That, in turn, can create weaponry that outstrips both the standard and the equipment already designed and installed. Everything that has emerged thus far has been done with minimal output."
"I heard a guy made a rocket launcher out of thin air, and you're calling that 'minimal output'?"
Stalk simply sat there and nodded.
"Oh, man. Oh, jeez. Oh, wow." Pierce let a nervous laugh slip out. "We are seriously playing with fire here."
"So is Haywood," said Baldwin. "That's why we need to tread carefully; if we mindlessly press her, we may as well bury ourselves." He pounded his fist into an open palm like a gavel. "We mobilize and strike when we're ready. No sooner. Otherwise --"
"Baldwin, my man, my boy, my buddy: you're doing me real dirty here." Pierce spread his arms wide. "I got this. I'm holding all the cards here, not Boobasaurus. I can have this mess cleaned up in a weekend. Get it? And the sooner I make my move, the sooner you, me, and all of our, ah, new best friends can make theirs. Owning this city and every last penny -- and when we've gutted them, we'll rinse and repeat with other cities. You can't tell me you're gonna drag this out, are you?"
Baldwin's eyes shifted at last. "I'd prefer it if --"
"See? I knew it!" Pierce snapped his fingers. "That's why I'm the boss."
"Fine."
"Let me hear you say it." Pierce leaned forward. "It'll be music to your ears and mine."
Baldwin tightened his grip on his hands. "You're the boss."
"Yeah! Somebody call the DJ, 'cause we got a Top Forty hit on our hands!" That got a big guffaw out of Pierce -- and a blazing glare from Baldwin -- but the mayor eventually relaxed. "So? Is, ah, is she your type?" He held up his hands. "I mean, I'm not here to judge or anything. Just hard to deny that that chick is seriously --"
"I'm interested in her."
"Really? Ha ha, Baldwin my man! I knew there was a red-blooded American in there!" He stuck out a hand. "Come on! Down low!"
"Put your hand away."
Pierce snapped his hand back faster than a bullet.
"Her power is incredible," said Baldwin. "With it, we can measure the effectiveness of our equipment -- or lack thereof -- if we engage her. If." His eyes shifted once more. "No doubt we'll clash again."
"Can you beat her? You or your boys?"
"As a Goliath, there are ways to fight against her -- superior tactics well among them. As our ranks grow, we'll have the numbers to attack from multiple angles and distances. As she grows, the surface area of her body's weak points will scale up. We can overwhelm her."
"And you were worried."
"We're dealing with a woman whose mere existence defies the laws of physics; there's no guarantee we'll survive." Baldwin crossed his arms. "But that's how it should be. Never start a fight without the will to put your life on the line."
"Yeah, well, that's why you'll never find me out in the trenches."
Baldwin turned away. "Of course."
"So. Everything going well on your end, eh?"
"Well enough," said Stalk. "I am overseeing the production and distribution of the Kernels. As per that phase of the plan, multiple gangs have gained access to them. They shall be able to transform them into weapons and wield them as they see fit. Still --"
"Saving the good stuff, right?"
Baldwin nodded. "The 'good stuff' is still being developed for our purposes. But between their future deployment and the Kernels already in the streets, we've already begun to reap the benefits. Multiple gangs have pledged their loyalty in exchange for gear. That said, we'll need --"
"And the money?" Pierce leaned forward with eyes alight. "They're handing over the big bucks, right?"
Baldwin's brow twitched. "Yes."
"Oh ho, man! Now that's what I like to hear, baby!" Pierce grinned as he rubbed his hands together, as if he prepared for a sprawling buffet. "Imagine what I can do with all that dough! Oh, ah, I mean -- sure, you and Stalk will get your share. But still! I'm gonna be filthy rich!"
Baldwin jerked his head away and let loose a curt grunt. Only sheer luck kept him from feeding Pierce his fist.
"Aw, c'mon. Don't make that face, my man." Pierce's smirk reached the summit of smugness. "The three of us are about to rule this city. And when we do? Well, hell, all our dreams will come true. That's what you want, right, soldier boy?"
Baldwin stared at him, but stayed mute.
"No need for words. I know you're feelin' me."
A silent glare followed.
"Well, let's cut the meeting off here. I'll get things rolling with a press conference -- or at least announce one. Gotta get ahead of the she-beast." Pierce leaned in. "Interference aside, we're right on schedule, yeah?"
"For now."
"Perfect." Pierce knocked on the limo's wall; in turn, the driver steered into a sudden turn. "I know a good place for you two to scope out. Far from me, though. Goes without saying, but it's not exactly ideal for us to be seen together yet. Nothing personal, right?"
"Don't worry. My feelings aren't hurt."
"You have feelings?"
Baldwin grimaced at him.
"All right, all right. Yeesh. I gotta teach you how to take a joke." Despite the promise -- one Baldwin instantly dreaded -- the mayor stopped the conversation right there. He tugged his phone out and tapped away at the screen. Baldwin let him go at it, no matter how many other questions drifted in his mind. If nothing else, he had solace -- something that would spare him from another pointless conversation with --
"What do you think of this babe, Baldwin?" Pierce asked as he shoved his phone forward. "Eh? Eh? She doing anything for you?"
Baldwin clapped a hand atop his face.
Stalk moved on his behalf. "Is there a romance to this 'babe'?"
"I don't even -- why're you asking me? Do I look like a romantic?"
"Shall I answer honestly? It may wound you severely."
"Look, if it's personality you're after, that's one thing. But come on, you gotta feel something rumbling in your --"
"I require romance. It is the crux of perfection."
Pierce gave him a befuddled look and muttered as he swiped across his phone. Baldwin didn't bother to help out, or acknowledge, either of them. With his "solace" earned, he cycled through every last point on the agenda -- faces, locales, weapons, and all -- with his mind. He felt the plan come together, piece by piece.
Yet his focus wavered, independent of Pierce's pestering jabs. He felt it deep down in his core, underneath miles of tempered rage. Somehow, as if he'd heard the whispers of the fates, he knew what approached. He saw it -- saw her -- in his mind's eye. He suspected, and knew, exactly what it would come down to. No ambitions fulfilled, and no victories grasped, without a battle. A war.
A clash with the largest, strongest human ever. With his Goliath.
"A word," Stalk said as he raised a hand. "There is one final detail we must discuss."
Baldwin slid his eye toward Stalk.
"The Maxima is not alone."
***
"And that's what happened," said Rosie. She crouched down and rocked atop her toes to spare Landlord from breaking his neck to make eye contact. At her size, parts of her still spilled out of the complex's lot and into the streets, which forced the few vehicles that dared to approach drive under an impromptu, peachy overpass. "So, sorry if I worried ya."
Landlord just stood there and stared.
"I know I kinda set you back 'cause o' -- well, a lot." She clapped her hands together, but quickly split them apart to give her palms a closer look. "I figure that as big as I am, I can do somethin' to help ya out."
Landlord just stood there and stared.
Rosie pumped her fists. "Leave it to me! I spent the walk here practicin' -- so I can move way better than I did at the start." She brought a quivering hand up to her mouth as she peeked over her shoulder. "Still plenty I gotta get used to. It's weird bein' up this high, ya know? Makes me dizzy every now and then. Same goes for however much I weigh now. It's like I gotta pretend I'm a ballerina to get around. And I, um, might've -- kinda -- sorta -- accidentally -- hacked out a skyscraper chunk when I turned too fast." She smiled bashfully as she folded her arms under her chest. "Daisy and Poppy here handled the shock well. I'm thankful for 'em as always, but I gotta watch where they swing from now on."
Landlord just stood there and stared.
"Anyway, ya won't have to take care o' me. Had a good meal on the way over." Rosie's expression soured. "There was this old complex nobody wanted around, so I helped myself. Tasted -- well -- there." She shook her head. "But don't mind me! I'll handle all your troubles from here on out! It's the least I can do for the guy who did so much to help me!" She flashed a smile as bright as a full moon. "And no matter how big I get, I'm still your tenant."
Landlord just stood there and stared. At least, until he didn't. He nearly unhinged his jaw from his face and let out a throat-shredding scream. And then he ran.
"For real?" Rosie reached for Landlord, but moved far too slowly; he dodged her gigantic hand as he sprinted to the complex's side. "Don't be scared! I'm here to help!" She bounced back onto her feet. From her vantage point, she watched Landlord dart to the motel's backside, then make a beeline for the beach. "I know I haven't done much to win ya over, but -- uh --" She snapped her fingers and grinned. "I know! I bet a hug'll make ya feel better!"
That made Landlord run even faster.
"Aw, c'mon!" Rosie said as she ran after him. She fought like mad to dampen the impact of her footsteps; between that, her dismal speed, and ludicrous weight, she couldn't begin to match Landlord's sprint. Only her field-long stride let her keep up with him. "Lemme hug ya!"
"Hell no!" Landlord shouted. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"An abandoned airport a hundred miles away."
"What?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Get away from me!"
"Okay, how 'bout a back rub?"
"You'll crush me like a grape!"
"Promise I'll be gentle!" Rosie pressed her hands together. "Plus, you've got bones and stuff. That'll protect ya, maybe!"
"How stupid are you?"
"Who knows?" She puffed up and put on a smug look. "I've got the biggest brain in the world. That must make me some kinda secret genius!"
"Oh my God, stop talking! Just stop talking!" Landlord tripped on a dune and tumbled. He went from man to bowling ball as he rolled across the sand, and for a good while. Lucky for him, he did eventually unfold and come to a halt, even if that left him flat on his back. "Well, that was a hoot. Guess I'll die now."
Rosie tucked into a seat. "I'm not gonna kill ya, though."
But the sight of her didn't convince Landlord; a surge of energy made him sit up and scamper like a crab. "Yeah? And how am I supposed to believe that, huh? Gonna tell me you've never killed anyone before?"
"I --" Rosie pulled back at the thought. Rather than stare at her landlord, she turned toward the ocean waves.
"I know what happened downtown! No way you made it outta there without a body count to your name!" Landlord crossed his arms over his chest. "I know what you're gonna ask. 'Oh, Landlord! Why do people always run away from me?' Or 'Oh, Landlord! Why's everybody so scared of me all the time?' Wanna know why? It's 'cause you're huge! Dangerous! And flaky! Causing trouble and breaking crap wherever you go, just by running through your daily routine! How's anybody supposed to have faith in you?"
Rosie didn't answer him. She kept her eyes locked on the ocean.
Landlord took a seat and sighed. "You're different from us humans. You're big and strong, but you're living in a world where we run things. If you can't prove you can hang with us? Can't earn our trust? Then it's no wonder the army is at our doorstep."
That, of all things, made Rosie turn back toward him. In return, Landlord stood up and held out his arms. "Hurry up and crush me like a bug if it'll make you feel better. I know you want to."
Rosie gazed at him in silence as the waves rolled on. When the sound grew too painful to bear, she raised a hand and --
Landlord crouched down and clutched his head. "Not the face!"
And reached into her cleavage. She caught a quick glimpse of Landlord, as the spectacle made his eyeballs slam into his sunglasses. She didn't mind or dwell on it; she simply fished out a sedan -- crushed flat, and pressed together like halves of a ham sandwich -- and set it on the ground before him.
Landlord tilted his head. "The hell am I supposed to do with this?"
One flick of Rosie's wrist peeled the roof off -- and exposed a pile of cash that reached from bumper to bumper.
"Holy -- stinkin' -- super-crap!" Landlord threw himself at the cash. "Look at all this! This is -- Jesus, these aren't just one-dollar bills, either!" He would have hugged a wheelbarrow's worth of it if he didn't look up at Rosie first. "How'd you get all this?"
"Passed by a bank on the way here. And the guys there freaked out, so they threw all the money they could to shoo me off. Same goes for a ton o' folks nearby. Tried tellin' 'em I didn't want it, but they wouldn't take no for an answer. This one guy even gave me his car." She tapped a finger to her cheek. "Dunno why. Not like I could use it."
Landlord's eyes darted between the money and the giantess. "You could do a lot with this much cash."
"Yup. That's why I'm givin' it to you."
"What? Why?"
That made Rosie tilt her head. "Why not?"
"Because you could use it, dumbass!"
"Maybe. But I gotta do what I know is right." She nudged the car closer to him. "Hope this'll cover what I owe. Maybe get those gangs off your back, too. And after that, ya can buy yourself somethin' real nice. Like a bed o' flowers. Or a big cake."
"How is treating me like a charity case the right thing to do?" Landlord grimaced and scoffed at the thought, but jerked his gaze toward the sand underfoot. "I haven't done much to earn it, you know? I keep calling you a dumbass. And -- I threw eggs at you yesterday."
Rosie shrugged. "I forgive ya for that. Prob'ly deserved it, too."
"Don't say --!"
"You can be a prickly guy, but you're pretty much never wrong." She pointed at herself. "I am different. Different, scary, flaky, dangerous, reckless, and more. Sayin' sorry's not enough to fix that. I gotta do more. Much more." She set a hand atop her heart. "I don't want people to be afraid o' me. No matter how big I am, whenever I turn a corner and walk their way, I want 'em to be able to look up at me and smile. Feel nice and warm, knowin' that I'm there. 'Cause as bad as things get -- as bad as I get -- I'll do my best to smile right back."
Landlord stared at her -- and acted like the money didn't even exist.
"I've got a lotta work ahead, that's for sure. Plenty to make amends for. But I'm gonna do it, for everyone. For you." She pushed the tip of her pinky closer to him, and smiled even as that finger alone stood taller than he did. "We can shake on it if ya need proof."
Landlord stared at that finger for a good, long while. In the end, he pushed the pinky aside -- or at least tried to. "Cut that out," he said with a snort. "No sense trying it if I can't get mine around yours."
"Oh. Sorry."
Landlord's head tilted up and down. "Stand up for a minute."
Rosie shifted backward, then went sky-high in seconds. The already-tiny Landlord looked no taller than a flower bud, and couldn't even reach her ankle. In stark contrast, she towered over every last building on the beachfront, and well into Midtown in the distance. It showed; her dress rode further up her legs and dug deeper into her skin, with more tears all around. She didn't remember having such a marked slit in it, but she guessed that before long, nobody would forget it.
"Damn," said Landlord. "You've gotta be about three hundred by now."
Rosie nodded. "Stressed or not, I grew on the way here."
His expression didn't change. "You like those clothes?"
"Yup. Gotta appreciate a gift like this." She smiled warmly as she gazed at its tightening folds. "Got white on underneath. Almost makes me feel like I'm Starla Michaels -- though I guess she went without a dress at the time."
"Starla who?"
"Ya don't know who Starla Michaels is?"
"Am I supposed to?"
"Yeah. She was --" Rosie rubbed the back of her head. "Aw, forget it. Startin' to think I've got weird taste."
"You're weird."
"Sure am."
Landlord probed her from head to toe. "You seriously named your breasts?"
Rosie tilted her head. "Ya mean you haven't?"
That got a grunt out of him. "Touché."
Rosie smiled at him, though she didn't expect -- or receive -- one from him. Instead, the two of them shared another long look without a word between them -- at least until Landlord stuck out a hand. "Well? I can't carry this car by myself."
"Oh, right." She knelt down and put the roof back on, then cradled the car comfortably in her palm. "Hop on. I'll save ya some steps."
"Not a chance. I fall off, and the best I could hope for is a broken neck." He dropped into a seat on the sand, arms folded tight once more as he stared at the ocean. "Find a nice, safe place for that, and I'll handle it later. After that?" He forced a shrug. "I won't hassle you anymore."
Rosie stared at him. "Need a hug?"
"Get outta here!"
"Offer's always there." Rosie let a tiny laugh fill the air, and soon after the rest of her followed. She started off with the car in hand; she still felt waves of unease rattle her innards, but she held it together. She had her bearings, or some semblance of them -- and hoped, intensely, that they would last.
"Good luck."
Rosie glanced over her shoulder. Landlord hadn't moved from that spot, least of all to face her as she headed out. But she still heard something she knew she had to treasure.