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This will be my monument

This will be a beacon when I'm gone

(Röyksopp + Robyn)

---

For seemingly the next eternity, all I knew was pain. I had been taken back to the facility and shut me away in my old tiny, black room, far away from the sunlight and open air. They wouldn't let me sleep or eat. They took my shift. They drenched me to the bone and left me to freeze. One person seemed to delight in shoving hot pokers underneath my fingernails and watching me squirm and shriek in pain. On several occasions, they shocked me, not quite sufficiently enough to kill me, but enough to make me wish I was dead.

One day, I woke up and found myself back in the hangar room. I sat up groggily, folding my legs under myself. Blinking, I took in my surroundings. The ceiling and walls had been reinforced with thick steel beams and plates. I guess they didn't want any further escape attempts.

On either side of me was a row of black-clad thugs. It was all one big episode of déjà vu, and I really didn't like where it was going.

Somehow, I managed to sum up enough energy to be embarrassed at my nudity. Cupping my hands over my breasts, I hastily draped my tail across my lap. I still had dignity, or some semblance of it.

The door swung open again and the hound strode through, pushing and kicking a bound and gagged prisoner in front of him. My jaw went slack and I let out a little squeak. It was Mark.

I recoiled as the hound shoved Mark to his knees in front of me. My pulse quickened. I knew what they wanted me to do. But I wasn't going to. They couldn't force me to do that. I wasn't their tool anymore.

My eyes started to water as I stared down at the bound lynx. He was looking up at me, his expression mercurial. I couldn't tell if he was scared or angry or resigned. Probably some combination of the above.

Maybe I could save him. What if I put him in my mouth, pretended to swallow him, and then kept them there until they all left? He would be safe, if not a little damp, and we could figure out a new way to get out of this hellhole, for good this time.

I heard a click. The hound had pulled a pistol from its holster on his belt. Before I could react, he aimed the gun at the back of Mark's head and fired a single shot. The side of my knee was stained red with spray. The lynx fell forward onto his face.

Everything went into blurry slow motion. The next thing I knew, I was clutching a fistful of operatives, my mouth full of blood as my free hand reached for a third group. I became vaguely aware of a choked howl coming from my lips. I stuffed one hapless group into my gaping maw as I leaned forward towards the hound. He took a few steps backward but remained otherwise impassive.

Holding out my fistful of the hound's fellows, I slowly squeezed the lot of them in my crushing grip. I relished the sounds of the thugs' dying screams as I crushed them into a pulp. Dropping their broken bodies into a crumpled mass at the hound's feet, I grinned at him, my eyes wild.

"You kill one, I'll kill a dozen," I growled, blood dripping from my mouth.

"Good," the hound replied, a thin smile spreading across his lips. "Then I'll just have to make sure I kill the right people,"

My smile fell. "No. No,"

But the hound was no longer paying me any mind. Turning to address the remainder of his crew, he was already barking orders.

"Get this bitch out of here," he snapped, he jerked his head in my direction, almost as an after-though.

"No!" I shouted, slamming my bloody fist on the ground.

But that did nothing to stop the large needle I felt stab into my calf only seconds later. Shit. Out again.

When I awoke, I was back in my tiny cement cell. Icy cold water had been sprayed everywhere, ensuring I was nice and damp and miserable. I shivered, staring at the black void that surrounded me.

Kill the right people? What did he mean? These bastards had taken me from my home. He knew where I lived. What if he took Ciaran? What if he shot and killed Ciaran in front of me, just as he had done with Mark? I was completely and utterly powerless. All I could do was stand by and watch.

*****

I sat in the passenger seat of the car, drumming my fingers on the dashboard impatiently. Nothing came between Guillam and his coffee. Not me, least of all. I had even less of a say in the matter when he was the one driving.

Staring through the windscreen at the front of the coffee shop. That cross fox had a real knack for always picking the one with a longest lines possible. And in a town with possibly thousands of cafés, that was a rare talent.

I could see him standing there, maybe half a dozen people back, the smug son of a bitch. But two behind him...

Frowning in concern, I pulled out my phone.

"Guillam," I said when my partner picked up. "Don't look now, but there's a bulldog at your 6 o'clock. I think--" I snorted derisively as he whipped around with a profound air of subtlety, "--I think he's one of our abductors,"

"What the fuck do you want me to do with that delightful tidbit of information?" Guillam hissed. I'd forgotten just how bloody pleasant he was when stressed and decaffeinated. "What is he doing here, even?"

"Hey, everyone needs coffee. You should know that," I snorted.

My eyes were already darting around the parking lot, trying to spot the vehicle in which the bulldog had likely arrived.

"I'm going to take a look around," I said. "See what I can find,"

"Good. I, for one, am going to get a cappuccino,"

Stuffing my mobile back into my pocket, I stepped out of the car. Furtively checking to make sure that the bulldog was still preoccupied, I skirted the parking lot. Nothing seemed too out of place. Then again, I couldn't exactly expect the fellow to go around in a conveniently labeled company car or anything of the sort.

Then again...

Parked in a stall towards the back of the parking lot was a black jeep that seemed to match the description Ciaran had furnished.

As I approached the vehicle, I saw that a small decal was adhered to the lower left-hand corner of the rear window. It depicted a broken arrow on a triangular field of deep blue. I hastily snapped a picture with my mobile.

Just then, I glanced over my shoulder. The bulldog was approaching, carrying a paper cup of coffee. Stepping away from the vehicle, I hurried across the lot, faking a conversation on my mobile.

Wondering where in the fuck my partner was at the moment, I slid into the passenger seat of our car. Through the rear-view mirror, I watched the bulldog pull out of the lot and drive off, heading northbound, best as I could tell.

Moments later, Guillam plopped into the driver's seat, setting his cappuccino in the cupholder.

"You're late," I growled huffily. "We won't be able to catch up with him now. Fucking got away,"

"You forget that I drive like a madman," Guillam pointed out.

"Even if you drive even worse than usual, we still don't know where he's gone. I lost track of him almost as soon as he turned out of the lot,"

"Well, did you find anything at all we could use?" the cross fox replied crossly. "Or are you going to just sit there and bitch at me? You know we've figured shit out with barely anything to go on before,"

"I found this decal on the jeep. Not sure if it really means anything. Maybe it's just some outdoors outfitter thing. Take a look," I said.

Guillam's jaw went slack as I showed him the image, his eyes bugging out slightly. Fucking drama queen.

"That's no outfitter, Warren," he said at length, finding his voice. "I--I think we're dealing with some real-deal big leagues terrorists,"

"Bullshit," I shook my head.

"That's the insignia of the Broken Arrow,"

"Really creative fucking name there,"

"I don't think they have to worry about being creative when they're hijacking a tanker ship or bombing a fertilizer factory,"

"Good point, I guess. I didn't know they were active around here,"

"Have you been reading any of the briefings the Domestic Threats section sends out?"

"Do I really need to answer that question? I might pay more attention to them if even one of them learned how not to hit 'Reply All' on every group email,"

Guillam rolled his eyes. "They suspect a new cell has recently become active in the Saaduuts area. They're young in these parts, still wet behind the ears, but pretty... zealous,"

"A go-getter attitude is never good when you're talking about terrorists," I grumbled. "But what would they want with Tabitha?"

Guillam looked gravely over at me. "What would a terrorist organization not want with Tabitha?"

He had a point, I feared.

*****

I was sitting in the break room, trying to figure out how on earth I'd managed to make the worst sandwich of all time, when Morgan cornered me. She plopped down across from me, fingertips drumming nervously on the tabletop.

"Hi, Tal," she said.

"Afternoon, Morgan," I smiled back at the marten. "Is something the matter? You look flustered,"

Morgan giggled in a manner that in no way made her seem any less nervous. "Oh, it's just, I feel really bad for breaking our date the other night. Didn't want you to think that I'd ditched you or something,"

I chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. When I heard that you and Rodge had been, er, carted off, I had a feeling you'd be there a little while,"

Morgan rolled her eyes. Her nose wrinkled a little as she looked at my plate. "The fuck is that?" she asked, poking at the sorry excuse for a sandwich.

"I'm not entirely certain myself, you know," I shrugged. "Need to go grocery shopping,"

"Well, what do you say we get dinner tonight? Get some real food in you. And give that whole thing another shot," the marten smiled.

"I'd like that," I replied. "But you don't get a free pass if a giant stallion carries you off again. That's a one-time excuse,"

Morgan laughed, winking as she pushed back from the table. "Deal. I can swing by your place at, say, eight? That work with you?"

"Brilliantly,"

The rest of my sandwich tasted markedly better. Appetizing, even.

*****

I took a sip of my cappuccino. It was cold. The foam had congealed into some sort of gelatin. Not that it had been exactly stellar to begin with. 'Home of the Velvet Foam', my tail. Just because it says that on your sign doesn't make it true.

"So, are you going to stop deflecting?" Andy asked, smiling amicably at me as he rested his hand on his cheek.

"Huh?" I blinked.

"I don't mean to seem terse, but, well, we've discussed about every topic other than the one you seemed to have come here to talk to me about. I assumed when you asked if I wanted to get coffee, you had real topics in mind, and not just your slightly bizarre concept of small-talk,"

"Oh,"

"I mean, unless what you really dragged me here to talk to me about was how ugly the paneling on the wall is,"

I cringed, setting aside the coffee. Drumming my fingers on the table, I tried to look anywhere except the jackal sitting across from me.

"I just... I guess... Well... I'm just really fucking lonely," I mumbled.

"Reynard getting to you?" Andy replied in what I assumed was a sympathetic tone.

"I just want him back. But everyone I talk to at hospital doesn't seem all that optimistic. They try to hide behind their glass-tentatively-half-full bullshit. But the longer the coma lasts, the... he might not make it.

"And it's all so expensive. I love him. I love him so much. But I can't afford it. The insurance is a nightmare and... and..." I trailed off, eyes damp.

"...and so you're looking to get away from all that with some awesome, insanely hot, no-strings-attached sex with your favorite jackal-god?" Andy leaned back in his chair, biting his lip.

My face flushed even more crimson than it was by default and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Andy placed his hand on mine.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Andy pressed gently. "You don't need to wallow. I can make you feel better. It isn't cheating,"

"Seems a little bit odd that you have to promise me that it isn't cheating..."

"Look, don't pretend to be all high and mighty when you're the one asking me. Don't fucking turn the tables on me," Andy growled. I could have sworn he inched up a little bit in height.

"Really?" I snapped. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who jumped instantly to sex. Maybe I just wanted someone to talk with. Gods, do you think about anything other than that? Making my life miserable, I suppose,"

"Look, we could debate semantics until the fucking cows come home," Andy shot back. "Do you want an immortal fuck-buddy or not?"

I gulped, staring at Andy.

*****

I had been wrong all along. Maybe it wasn't wrong to crush and devour and destroy, at least given the right context. It was what I was meant to do, the only thing that could be reasonably expected to do.

They taught me, slowly at first, but surely, that all of civilization was a fucked-up and terrible abomination. The films they showed me showed me that truth beyond all shadow of a doubt.

Well, I wasn't sure whether I could call them _films,_strictly speaking. They had neither plot nor dialogue to speak of. Rather, they comprised mainly of series of images, linked only by theme. Flashes of horrible imagery--torture, rape, murder, war--splashed across the screen, interspersed with flashes of bright, blinding light and the occasional slogan.

They wouldn't let me look away or even close my eyes. Sometimes, they hurt me with all of their usual tools while projecting the video images, a sort of tactile accompaniment to the visual experience.

I came to understand that those demonstrations weren't torture. No, they were making me fully understand the gravity of the situation in ways that even images couldn't describe. They were helping me. Besides, I was a giantess. I was made of tougher stuff than the average person. I hadn't whimpered or pleaded or cried or even screamed in some time. It wasn't pain or suffering. It was education. In order to do anything to resolve the situation, I of course first needed to understand it intimately.

The greater design of my mysterious benefactors slowly became apparent to me in snips and snatches as time passed. The world was a fucked-up and evil place. Everyone had become so complacent that it would take a major change to set things aright. A reset button, if you will.

That's where I came in. When my benefactors started to usher in the necessary reshuffling, I would be there to provide the necessary enforcement. The old and bad needed to be cleansed in order to make way for the good and new. And if that reshuffling meant casualties, well, that was just the price people played for their complacency and arrogance.

I heard the doors at the end of the hangar room swing open and immediately prostrated myself, ready for the usual binding before another viewing session. Some time ago I'd learned it was easier to make things as easy for my benefactors as possible.

"Sit up," came the barked order.

Confused, I complied, sitting cross-legged as I stared down at the hound. He had come alone, for once. I knew better than to speak to him, sitting in silence until he chose to talk.

"It would seem you are ready at last. Tomorrow, we will be putting you to the test. Do not disappoint us,"

A grin crept across my face as the hound turned and left. I certainly wouldn't.

*****

I sat beside Reynard's hospital bed, massaging his hand gently with mine. What I wouldn't give for him to blink awake, look up at me, and ask me what he'd missed.

"I couldn't do it," I mumbled to him and nobody in particular at the same time. "I think I might have wanted him. But I don't think I can fill the Reynard-shaped hole with anyone other than, well, Reynard,"

Reynard's face remained as expressionless as ever. I had once thought he looked peaceful. But now that I looked at him again, I saw that he was just vacant. Empty. Nothing there.

"Maybe I'm just being stupid and sentimental," I continued my monologue pointlessly. "I'm lonely. And I don't want to lose you. But I... I don't know. Are you going to pull through? Or should I let you go?" I finished, my voice a barely-audible croak.

What would Reynard want? He didn't--couldn't--want anything right now. He was a vegetable. Was the life support on, prolonging his meaningless, pointless existence, because he had a fighting chance at pulling through? Or was it still on because I was selfish and couldn't allow him death with dignity?

My shoulders sagged and I my gaze fell to the floor, hand slipping limply into my lap. I didn't know what to do anymore.

There came a tapping at the sliding-glass door.

Confused and a little irritated, I approached the door. My husband's room had a small balcony for visitors. I supposed they made the space feel roomier, not that it really mattered for comatose patients.

The only problem was, his room was a solid five or six floors up. It must take one hell of a throw to get a rock to make it up there.

Except it was no rock.

Cursing loudly, I unlatched the door, standing in the doorway as I stared outside.

"You," I growled.

Andy was outside the window, and he was absolutely enormous. Crouching low so that his grinning face was hanging directly over the level of the window, the jackal-god stared right at me.

"Me," he replied smugly.

"What the hell is going on?" I blustered, pushing through the door and standing on the balcony.

Throaty laughter reverberated around me as I adopted the sternest pose I could muster, arms folded across my chest and a scowl etched on my face. Andy was resting the fingertips of one hand on the rail of the balcony, warping it under the weight. His feet completely obstructed the street and sidewalk below, toes curled inward so as to not shatter the windows of the ground floor of the hospital. How considerate. The giant's silent gaze bore down on me, at once cool, calculating, and playful.

"Well?" I reiterated somewhat shakily.

Another one of those goddamned chuckles. "Here's the deal. I wasn't all that into your response back at the café. You don't get to drag me out to the fucking Bell District and then leave me hanging. So now I'm going to drag you wherever I fucking please,"

"Wha--what!?" I snapped.

Noticing jackal's massive hand moving towards me out of the corner of my eye, I took a step back and braced myself against the wall. He wasn't about to take me anywhere. "I'm spending time with Rey now! Let me be!"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't go far. Probably just the docklands," Andy smirked, but his hand dropped to his side once again.

"I'd prefer to remain here,"

"Suit yourself,"

Andy shifted, turning and sitting down cross-legged with his back leaning against the hospital tower. The balcony was still at roughly shoulder level to him.

"Shit, I haven't been a giant in ages," Andy sighed. "Feels good to stretch the ol' limbs,"

"You could stretch the ol' limbs at a normal ol' six-foot-three, you know," I pointed out without much hope of him actually listening. "Significantly lower the property damage, let me tell you. And there would be some clothes that still fit you, too. Aside from that stupid necklace of yours, that is,"

"But that sounds so boring," Andy pointed out, staring forward. He massaged his pendant between thumb and forefinger "And don't pretend you don't like seeing me walking around in the nude,"

I fell silent, unable to wholly disagree. He certainly wasn't bad looking.

"Must be more than a little chilly," I shrugged, wishing I'd put on my jacket before stepping outside. "All's I'm saying,"

Andy clucked his tongue. "Au contraire, my little friend. There are so many reasons to be naked right now--it's fun, I enjoy it... Besides. It's so hard to find a pair of boxers in size XXXXXXXXXXXXXXL,"

Without warning, Andy's grasping fingers plucked me off the balcony.

"Shit, it feels so good to be a giant," he said, hefting me in his palm.

"You've mentioned that before," I commented.

"Trust me. Been awhile. After last time, I had to take a bit of a break. Had a bad breakup, y'see. I was young and... well, you know how young folks are. So I enlarged myself to ridiculous proportions and carved a swath of destruction through a good chunk of Europe. I was the size of the fucking Matterhorn, for fuck's sake!" he enthused nostalgically.

"I really gotta say, that wasn't how I tend to solve my problems... But I guess that's why you've got that reputation as a god of death or whatever,"

"Judgment of the dead and all that. Or at least they decided to attribute to me way back when," Andy corrected disinterestedly. "And I suppose I gotta live up to the reputation once in a while. You know, I'm the reason they called it the Black Death back in the Middle Ages," he added with a note of pride.

"Er, I thought that was the Plague, not a colossal rampaging jackal,"

"Oh, you know how things get jumbled around over the course of history or whatever," Andy shrugged wryly. "But enough about me,"

The jackal's face grew serious.

"Maybe I came across a bit too strong earlier. I can do that, I know," he said haltingly. "But I really do mean it. You don't need to feel lonely. I can't _replace_Rey, but maybe I can help make things a little better in some way,"

I swallowed, trying to avoid Andy's gaze. It was a lot more difficult when he was so large.

"I just... I... I don't... I don't know," I fumbled lamely.

Andy didn't take too kindly to my sudden attack of indecision. Dropping me roughly back onto the surface of the balcony, he got to his feet and cast me a disparaging look.

"Call me when you want to do something other than waffle around and bitch," he snapped, pendant flashing contemptuously. "Until then... just don't waste my time, okay?"

Turning his back, Andy started to walk away down the street back towards town, slowly dwindling away to his normal size.

Pursing my lips, I brushed myself off and turned back toward the room. I couldn't bring myself to look at Reynard anymore, either, lying there like a fucking vegetable on the fucking bed.

Time to go home. Time to go make dinner by myself and fall asleep by myself.