As the sirens drew closer, Ava glanced back regretfully at the path of destruction she’d carved. The once-iconic venue behind her was now utterly unrecognizable—a splintered husk of shattered glass and twisted metal. Smoke rose in lazy tendrils from severed power lines, their jagged ends sparking like spent fireworks. The acrid tang of burning plastic mixed with the stench of pulverized concrete stung Ava’s nostrils as she stood frozen in place. Rows of seats that had moments ago been filled with ecstatic fans now lay flattened beneath her colossal footprints, mulched into a multi-colored amalgam of debris.
Her eyes darted to the remains of the stage, where shards of her glittering jumpsuit lay scattered like broken dreams. The lights that once dazzled the audience now flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows across the wreckage. She dared to look down, her gaze settling on the faint outline of her toeprints embedded deep in the rubble. Blood and grime clung to the ridges of her wrinkled soles, and for a brief, stomach-churning moment, she thought she saw movement—someone trapped beneath the rubble, too weak to call for help.
“Oh God…” was all Ava could muster, her voice saddled by heavy remorse.
She took a cautious step back, the debris-covered street shuddering under her weight. Each movement felt like a betrayal. The more she tried to fix things, the more the world seemed to break beneath her. In the distance, the pop star could hear faint cries—people calling for loved ones, for help, for mercy. It was a sound that would haunt Ava for the rest of her life. She had to do something… but would the act of trying to help just make things worse at her unwieldy size? She felt paralyzed with indecision as her mind raced through a hundred permutations of what to do next.
The wail of approaching sirens cut through the haze of destruction, sharp and grating. Ava turned her head slowly, her movements deliberate, as if any sudden action might shatter what little remained of the city’s fragile balance. Emergency vehicles screeched to a halt at the edge of the devastation. The first responders hesitated, their faces pale as they took in the impossible sight before them. Firefighters began setting up triage stations near the edges of the rubble, their radios crackling with frantic reports of casualties. But it was the line of black, armored trucks that caught Ava’s attention. A row of NYPD tactical vehicles fanned out across the street, their reinforced bumpers scraping against cracked asphalt. Officers in riot gear spilled out like ants, their movements precise and coordinated. Floodlights mounted on the vehicles snapped on, bathing Ava in harsh, artificial light. She winced and raised a hand to shield her face.
“This is the NYPD Special Tactics Unit,” a voice blared from what sounded like a megaphone. Ava squinted, her partially-blinded gaze settling on the figure standing atop one of the armored trucks. Captain Marlowe was a striking silhouette against the chaos—tall and commanding, her dark tactical gear gleaming under the floodlights. She confidently gripped the megaphone with one hand while the other rested on her hip, fingers twitching near her holstered sidearm. “Remain where you are,” Marlowe ordered. Her utterance was steady, but even from a distance, Ava could see the tension in her shoulders.
“Do not attempt to move. We are here to contain the situation and ensure the safety of all civilians.” Ava’s lip curled at the word “contain.” She glanced over her shoulder at the wreckage behind her, the bloodstains still visible against the white fragments of shattered seats. Wasn’t that what she was doing—trying to contain the damage? Trying not to make things worse?
“I… I didn’t mean to—” Ava began, her tone cracking like thunder. She cringed as the sound of her own words echoed through the broken streets. There had to be some way to explain this that wouldn’t escalate the situation even further, but she was in no state to come up with anything resembling an articulate explanation. Everything was happening much too fast.
A few officers flinched at the sheer power of her voice, their weapons trembling in their hands.
“Hold your fire!” Marlowe snapped, her hand shooting up. The officers hesitated, their fingers hovering over their triggers. Would their fight or flight response instinct outweigh their commitment to orders from a superior? Ava took a step back, her gigantic foot sinking into the asphalt with a dull crunch. The asphalt buckled beneath her, sending a fresh ripple of panic through the ranks.
Behind the newly-formed barricade, a restless crowd had gathered from outside the venue, drawn by the surreal commotion. Faces glowed eerily in the light of phone screens, capturing her towering nude silhouette against the fractured skyline, unevenly revealed by the floodlights. Ava’s sharpened senses caught several fragments of their various reactions, each word cutting through her like glass.
“She’s enormous… how does someone even get that big?”
“Is that Ava Nova? It is! What the hell happened to her?”
“Forget who she is—look at that wreckage. People are dead! She did that.”
“Maybe it’s not her fault. She doesn’t look like she’s trying to hurt anyone.”
“Not her fault? Are you kidding? There are bodies under her feet!”
“She saved lives! I saw her pulling people out of the rubble!”
“You’re blind. She’s a danger to everyone here. She’s got to be stopped.”
“She’s a goddess. Look at her. What else could she be?”
The last words, soft but unwavering, rose above the chaos. Ava turned her gaze toward the speaker—a young woman stepping forward from the crowd. Dust and streaks of blood lined her face, but her expression shone with conviction. She clasped her hands together, as if in prayer.
“Goddess Nova, please!” the woman called out, her voice trembling. “You didn’t have to save us, but you did. Thank you!”
Ava’s breath caught. “I’m not—” she began, but another scuffle cut her off.
“Get away from her, you idiot!” a man shouted, grabbing the woman’s arm. “She’s not some savior—she’s a menace!”
The woman wrenched herself free, spinning to face the crowd. “You didn’t see what I saw!” she cried, her voice raw. “She didn’t crush us. She protected us! She’s not a monster!”
“Oh yeah?” the man snapped, pointing at the wreckage. “Take another look at the bodies under her feet. Tell me that’s not a monster’s work.”
The crowd’s muttering swelled into a chaotic din—fearful accusations clashing with hesitant praise. Phones captured every second of it, their blinking lights glinting off the debris like judgmental eyes. News helicopters sporting their own cameras whizzed by tentatively, like flies orbiting an active kill.
“Stop it,” Ava declared, unsteady but firm. She stepped back, trying to create space, her bare foot pressing into the fractured street with a deep thud. The sound elicited a fresh jolt of panic through the crowd, the exact opposite of her intention. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Please… just stop.”
Despite her intentions, the nude titaness’ words found little footing in the rising commotion. To some, she was a protector. To others, a walking catastrophe. Ava turned back toward the barricades, where additional floodlights flared to life, fully illuminating her now in stark, unforgiving detail.
From the barricades, Captain Marlowe watched the chaos unfold with narrowed eyes, her jaw tight. “Do we have a clear shot?” she asked into her radio, her tone calm but clipped with a subtle tension.
“Negative,” came the reply. “Too many civilians in the way. Crowd control is still clearing the area.”
Marlowe cursed under her breath. “We need that perimeter secure now. If she moves any closer to the populated zones, we’ll lose our chance at containment.”
The officers at the barricades shifted uneasily, some for the first time questioning their careers. They had trained for riots, hostage situations, even acts of domestic terror from foreign entities—but nothing could have prepared them for something like this. The sheer scale of the naked woman towering over them was enough to sap any trace of confidence from even the most seasoned veterans.
One officer clutched his rifle tighter, sweat glistening on his brow. “Captain, she’s… she’s just standing there. I mean, she doesn’t necessarily look hostile.”
Marlowe’s glare swung to him. “She doesn’t have to look hostile. Did you miss that goddamn crater she left behind!? Do you think those innocent fans under her feet care whether she meant it or not?” She lowered her volume, speaking more to herself. “Intent doesn’t mean a thing here. The destruction does.”
Her radio crackled again, as if to punctuate her point. “Captain, fire crews are reporting civilian clusters trapped in the adjacent buildings. Structural integrity’s compromised—those walls won’t hold much longer.”
Marlowe glanced at Ava, then back at the glowing outlines of bodies pressed against shattered windows. Her gut twisted.
The harsh light of the floodlights cast her shadow across the wreckage, making her seem even larger. Ava winced as she shifted her weight, another faint tremor shivering through the ground. She could feel every set of eyes on her—accusing, fearful, worshipful. It was suffocating on a sensory level.
“Please, just listen,” she pleaded, her plaintive request echoing across the doomed plaza. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I was trying to—”
“Quiet!” Captain Marlowe harshly snapped through the megaphone. “Do not move another step! You are endangering lives with every second you stay here. Stand down, or we will take action.”
Ava flinched. “Stand down?” Ava repeated slowly, her question tinged with confusion. “Do you think I asked for this? Do you think I want to be this way?”
Somewhere in the crowd, the young woman who had deified her earlier raised her hands again.
“Leave her alone!” she shouted, just loud enough to be heard. “She’s not attacking anyone!”
The burgeoning cult’s chants swelled again, this time louder and more confident. “She’s a goddess! Goddess Nova!”
“Enough of that!” an officer barked, stepping forward with his baton raised. He shoved one of the kneeling devotees back, causing the others to scatter slightly.
Ava’s eyes darted to the commotion, her pulse quickening. “Don’t hurt them!” she called out, instinctively raising a hand. The abrupt motion sent a gust of wind through the crowd, toppling more than a few bystanders and rattling nearby vehicles like they were matchbox cars. A sudden crack split the air. Ava turned sharply, attention locked on a nearby building as a plume of dust erupted from its side. The structure groaned under its own weight, chunks of masonry tumbling to the street below. Another anthill falling under her power.
“They’re trapped!” someone screamed from the crowd. “There are people in there!”
Ava hesitated. She glanced at the crumbling building, then at the line of officers. “If I move, they’ll shoot,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible even to her own ears.
Another wail pierced the din. Ava’s clammy palms gradually balled into anxious fists. She had to act.
Before Captain Marlowe could bark another order, Ava stepped toward the building, her massive stride spawning more vibrations beneath the teeming street. Her shadow began to slide over the barrier.
“Hold your fire!” Marlowe shouted, though the edge of panic in her tone betrayed her. “Do not engage!”
Ava crouched by the collapsing structure, her huge hands painstakingly picking away loose debris. Every movement felt agonizingly slow, her fingers trembling as she pried open a section of the wall. She could see them now—a group of civilians huddled together, their wide eyes reflecting the chaos outside.
“You’re okay,” she said softly, her tone as gentle as she could manage. “I’ve got you.”
She extended her hand, gritty palm facing up, and watched as the group deliberated for a few tense moments before reluctantly climbing aboard. The small band of survivors looked up at her with a mixture of fear and wonder as Ava’s lips twitched into a weak smile.
Carefully, she placed them on the ground near the barricade. Several firefighters rushed in, guiding the survivors to safety from where she had carefully placed them. The crowd fell silent, save for the faint chants of “Goddess Nova” from her devotees.
Marlowe seized the moment without skipping a beat.
“Snipers, get into position,” she hissed into her radio.
Captain Marlowe lowered the megaphone, her expression unreadable as she watched Ava stand to her full height again. The tactical officers exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether to act or retreat.
“She saved them,” one whispered.
“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s a threat,” Marlowe shot back, her tone notably lacking some of its earlier conviction.
Ava straightened slowly, her hands still shaking as she wiped the grit and dust from her palms. Being the object of what felt like the city’s collective gaze was stifling. Every camera, every flashlight, every set of eyes scorched like a searing brand upon her skin.
The constant chatter began to dwindle for the first time since Ava had transformed. It pressed against her like a vice, an unrelenting pressure that made the steady chant of “Goddess Nova” echo louder in her ears. Her vocal minority of devotees had fallen to their knees again, bowing in reverence as though she had just performed a miracle. New converts appeared to trickle in as the minutes ticked by.
Ava’s eyes flicked to Marlowe, whose steely stare radiated distrust. She doesn’t care that I saved them, Ava thought bitterly. She’ll only ever see me as a threat.
She turned her attention to the survivors she had just rescued, watching as they were finally ushered to safety behind the barricade. Relief washed over their faces, but their demeanor revealed something more complicated as they looked up at their unlikely rescuer: Fear. Not just fear of what had happened—but fear of her. Was she really so foolish to believe that one good deed would absolve her? Intentional or not, Ava was only picking up after the destruction she herself had wreaked to begin with.
“I’m not your enemy,” Ava protested aloud, though the words felt hollow as they left her lips. Her vocalizations boomed across the plaza, carrying a weary resignation. “I just… I just want to help.”
Marlowe’s radio crackled. “Captain, we’ve got civilians clear of the target zone. Do we engage?”
Ava’s heart sank. Her focus shifted back to the barricade. It continued to amaze her how her sharp hearing was catching every word.
“Negative,” Marlowe replied curtly. Her grip on the megaphone tightened, knuckles whitening.
“Hold your positions. We’re not gonna risk endangering more lives unless she forces our hand.”
Ava exhaled, relief flooding her body, even as her instincts cautioned that this was only a temporary reprieve.
Wafting up from the crowd, a man’s voice broke through the tense stillness. “You see that? She didn’t crush them! She… she actually saved them!”
More murmurs followed, hesitant but growing in conviction.
“She’s not trying to hurt anyone…”
“Maybe she’s not a monster after all.”
“She’s still dangerous! Look what she did to this block!”
“We should all leave before she tries “helping” us again!”
Ava lowered her head slightly, her shadow now entirely engulfing the barricade as she adjusted herself on her feet. The whispers pricked her like needles, each one sharper than the last.
“I… I can’t undo this,” she stammered weakly, eyes finally welling with tears she’d been too shocked to spill until now.
The young woman from earlier stepped forward again, her face alight with fervor. “She saved us!” she cried, her voice shaking but resolute. “She’s not a monster—she’s our protector! Don’t you see that?”
Her words emboldened the others rallied by her. The chant began anew, stronger this time. “Goddess Nova! Goddess Nova!”
The noise swelled, filling the plaza as more people joined in. Ava’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want their worship; she wanted their understanding. But wasn’t that impossible now? Could she ever just be beloved pop star Ava Nova again?
Captain Marlowe stepped down from the truck, her boots crunching against the debris filling the area. Her measured stride carried her to the front line of officers, where she stopped and surveyed the scene.
“Captain, your orders?” one of her lieutenants inquired nervously.
Marlowe’s eyes never left Ava. She saw the giant woman’s shoulders sagging under an invisible weight, her colossal hands hanging at her sides, as if restrained by trepidation. Marlowe’s instinct told her Ava wasn’t an immediate threat—but instincts alone wouldn’t suffice. There was too much at stake here.
“Hold the line,” Marlowe said, her commanding tone sharp as ever. “We don’t fire unless further provoked.”
The lieutenant hesitated. “And if she moves again?”
Marlowe’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll stop her. Whatever it takes.”
The cultist chant had reached a fever pitch, clashing with the muffled cries of grief and anger from those who had lost loved ones. Ava turned away, unable to bear the chaos any longer.
Her gaze settled on the skyline, its jagged horizon fractured by smoke and flashing lights. She didn’t know where to go, but she knew she couldn’t stay here. Every second she lingered risked more destruction, more lives lost.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her apology drifting over the wreckage. It wasn’t clear who she was apologizing to—the crowd, the survivors, or herself. Carefully, she stepped away from the barricade, her enormous footfalls shaking the ground. The NYPD officers stiffened, weapons at the ready, but Marlowe simply raised her hand, halting them instantly. Ava cast one last glance at the woman who had called her a goddess. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Ava saw something she hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity— adoration.
She didn’t deserve it.
Turning away, Ava began to walk, each step widening the chasm between her and the city that had once been her home. The mantra of her devotees faded into the distance, replaced by the distant wail of sirens and the crackle of collapsing debris triggered by her retreating footfalls.
Captain Marlowe wearily lowered her hand as the officers around her relaxed slightly. She stared vacantly, watching the towering figure disappear into the darkened skyline. She still couldn’t believe it. Although she was only vaguely familiar with the singer, her kid was something of a superfan. To think she had almost put her daughter’s idol down, like a bear who had innocently wandered too close to a suburban home. Hell, she might still have to.
“What now, Captain?” one of her lieutenants asked, disrupting her reverie. Marlowe cleared her throat.
“We regroup. Assess the damage… and then we figure out what the hell we’re dealing with.”
She glanced at the crowd, the growing faction of devotees shouting praises to their so-called goddess. “Because if she comes back…” Marlowe’s statement trailed off, her expression hardening. “I need to know if she’s just a misguided friend of the people—or a walking catastrophe waiting to happen.”