Ava awoke to the low, mechanical hum of drones circling in the gray pre-dawn light. She blinked, disoriented, her eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar skyline of a city she once knew intimately. Dawn was only just breaking, streaks of cold light dappling into her vision. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the faint murmur of traffic. But up above, the rhythmic thrum of helicopter blades and the whirring buzz of surveillance drones were a constant reminder of her captivity—if not physical, then psychological. The tortured young woman had hoped in vain that she would awaken to find this all a bad dream, but the alien enormity of her new form greeted her the moment she awoke, like an uncomfortable exotic outfit she couldn’t undress from. Her gargantuan size, and the events of the previous night, were all too real.
She sat hunched behind an abandoned skyscraper on the outskirts of Manhattan, her colossal body casting a jagged shadow across the empty street. The building’s reflective windows offered a distorted, fragmented view of herself: Ava Nova, once a star on every billboard, now a towering anomaly under unrelenting scrutiny. Her formerly-styled blonde hair was disheveled, slightly matted with chunks of concrete and dust that contrasted her pallid complexion. The lenses of the ever-present drones glinted like the eyes of predators. They never blinked, never left her alone, documenting every breath, every twitch.
Ava buried her head in her hands, feeling the residual grit from digging through the rubble the night before sting her face. No matter how much she wished she could, traces of her experiences the night before clung to her body, thwarting all attempts to repress reminders of their existence. Intense remorse and pain exploded in her skull with the discovery of each sordid memento of last night’s horror. She fumbled with chunks of debris and other detritus, struggling in vain to find anything large or durable enough to cover her exposed anatomy. It was a new height of exposure and vulnerability that even a perennial celebrity such as herself was completely unable to cope with.
“Just leave me alone,” she whispered. Her words were too quiet to carry beyond her immediate surroundings, but the raw desperation in her tone felt deafening to her own ears. Hours passed. The city was waking up, and with it came the relentless tide of attention. Enticed by her developing breakdown, news helicopters hovered ever closer now, their cameras trained on her as talking heads debated her every move. Ava could hear snippets of their commentary, her sensitive ears catching aspects of vitriol and fascination alike.
“She represents an objective danger to public safety—”
“—No evidence she means to be hostile—”
“—a miracle, or an apocalypse? Is it too early to say for sure?”
“—#GoddessNova trending worldwide—”
Ava clenched her fists as she took in the words, her sorrow simmering into a frustrated rage, bubbling just beneath the surface. It wasn’t just the media hounding her now. It was the crowd that had begun to gather again at the edges of the police barricades before. Some seemed to be there simply to gawk, others appeared to be there with more reverent intentions. They seemed to belong to the group who had proclaimed her as a goddess back at Madison Square Garden. Of course, there were those who had clearly pursued her just to vilify her outright. Despite the variety of motivations driving them, all Ava could think was how strange and infuriating it was that they had followed all this way. Couldn’t they understand she needed space? For their safety even, not just her own.
“She’s a monster!” another screamed, pointing at the jagged skyline. “Look what she’s done to our city! If NYPD is too chicken shit to do anything about this bitch, maybe we need to get the military down here!”
“Do you see that?” someone in the crowd shouted. “She’s standing up! She’s moving again!”
Another voice jeered, louder this time: “Yeah, and look at the wreckage she left behind! Just standing here, and she’s already wrecked half the block.”
“That’s not true!” someone else yelled back, their tone sharp with conviction. “She saved people last night! I saw her pull survivors out of that rubble!”
“Oh, sure,” another voice sneered. “And how many people are dead under her feet right now? You think they’re "saved" too?”
“She’s a goddess,” came a trembling voice from the edge of the crowd, cutting through the noise. It was a woman clutching a handmade sign, her eyes wide with fervor. “She’s not here to hurt us. She’s here to guide us!”
“Guide us straight to hell!” someone shouted back, triggering a fresh wave of arguments.
Ava’s jaw tightened. Each word felt like a dagger, a reminder that no matter what she did, someone would twist it into a narrative she couldn’t control. Salty tears began to spill from her eyes. Was there no escaping this nightmare?
Inside a hastily constructed command center near the barricades, Captain Marlowe stood before a wall of monitors, each screen offering a live feed from a different angle. Drones hovered at various altitudes, capturing shaky but mostly detailed footage of Ava’s towering stature. Helicopter cameras provided sweeping aerial shots of the devastation, while ground-level body cams delivered an up-close view of the tense situation around the barricades. Every move Ava made was logged, analyzed, and debated in real time. Unlike the news footage spilling out of every other screen, blotted over with censorship blurs and scrolling chyron, Marlowe could monitor the situation as it actually was from a safe, objective distance.
“She’s not making any aggressive moves,” one analyst noted, adjusting his headset as he scrutinized a live drone feed. Ava’s defensive figure was hunched low, seemingly trying to shield herself from the ubiquitous floodlights and surveillance. “She hasn’t moved much since she found that hideout last night.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous,” Marlowe snapped, her sharp tone cutting through the room like a blade. The atmosphere in the command center was thick with tension; even the hum of electronics seemed subdued in her presence. She emphatically pointed at a monitor showing the smoldering ruins of Madison Square Garden. Smoke still rose in gray wisps from the collapsed structure. “That wasn’t “aggressive” either—yet we’re still counting the dead.”
Several officers exchanged uneasy glances. They had watched the footage of Ava’s initial transformation on repeat, every detail scrutinized frame by frame in the best resolution money could buy. Nevertheless, watching it hadn’t made the fantastical events of the previous night any easier to understand. One moment, she had been a pop star, commanding the adoration of thousands. The next, she had become something impossible—a force of nature that defied logic and threatened everything around her. It was like something out of an old science fiction movie. Yet there she was, a living, breathing movie monster that challenged everything modern humans thought they knew about what was possible. Even the handful of physicists the media had on so far had been rendered speechless by the unreal growth.
A police lieutenant approached with a clipboard, his expression grim. “Captain, the crowd’s getting bigger,” he reported. “Protesters, worshippers, media—everyone wants a piece of this.”
Marlowe rubbed her temples, exhaustion seeping into her movements. “Of course they do,” she muttered under her breath. “Because this isn’t just a crisis. It’s a goddamn circus.”
She gestured toward another monitor showing the throng of people pressing against the barricades. Protesters held up signs with slogans like MONSTER OUT OF CONTROL and CONTAIN THE THREAT NOW. Others waved hand-drawn images of Ava, adorned with halos and surrounded by glowing auras, their makeshift placards reading GODDESS NOVA—SHE WILL SAVE US. Between them, reporters jostled for position, their microphones angled toward anyone willing to talk. Pigs in shit, all of them.
Behind her, the room buzzed with activity. Analysts updated tactical maps in real time, their screens flickering with overlays of Ava’s movements and the crowd’s position. Another monitor displayed social media feeds, hashtags like #GoddessNova and #ContainTheMonster trending worldwide. Some feeds showed live streams of Ava sitting behind the dilapidated skyscraper, her gigantic frame filling the screen. Others replayed clips of the destruction at Madison Square Garden, the chaotic aftermath frozen in time.
“She looks… scared,” one younger officer murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He flinched when Marlowe turned sharply to glare at him.
“Scared doesn’t matter,” Marlowe said curtly. “Scared can still be dangerous. Scared is unpredictable.”
The officer looked away, cowed, as Marlowe returned her attention to the screens. Her mind raced through possible scenarios. She knew the risks of acting too soon—provoking Ava could lead to untold destruction. But waiting too long came with its own dangers. The longer Ava sat there, the more the crowd swelled. The more the media speculated. The more chaos loomed. Would she really have to wage a war against a frightened young woman? With the world no doubt watching by now, there could be no false moves.
A comms officer called out from across the room, breaking Marlowe’s train of thought. “Captain, drone reports show increased activity in the surrounding area. Civilians are still filtering toward the scene.”
“Fantastic,” Marlowe moaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Because that’s exactly what we need—more collateral damage.”
Another officer chimed in, his voice tense. “Captain, we’ve got reports of civilian clusters in nearby buildings. Structural integrity’s compromised—fire crews say they’re unlikely to hold up if there’s any more seismic activity.”
Marlowe’s eyes flicked back to Ava on the screen. The woman hadn’t moved in hours, yet her very presence was a ticking time bomb. “Get those buildings evacuated,” Marlowe ordered. “And double-check the perimeter. I don’t want one more civvie slipping through the cracks.”
Her radio crackled to life with a response. “Yes, ma’am. Fire teams are working on it now.”
Marlowe’s gaze hardened as she studied the monitors. She observed Ava shifting uncomfortably under the glare of floodlights, her enormous hands gripping her knees in what looked like an effort to stay still. She could see the tension in Ava’s every movement, the barely-contained energy of someone holding back a storm. It was looking more and more likely that she was going to have to bring the hammer down on her daughter’s hero, sooner rather than later. But she would understand, right? She was a rational girl, after all. Come to think of it, the officers she’d tasked with bringing her daughter to a safehouse hadn’t reported on her daughter’s emotional state at all. That would have to be attended to after the dust had settled.
“What’s the plan, Captain?” the officer asked cautiously.
“We wait for her to make the first move,” the burdened mother said, her voice measured but cold. Her posture tightened as she leaned closer to the monitors, her reflection faintly visible on the screen. “And when she does…”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.
Marlowe folded her arms, staring at Ava’s colossal figure. “What the hell are you waiting for?” she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible. She didn’t know if she was asking Ava—or herself.
The hours of the new day dragged on with a relentless weight, the constant surveillance pressing on Ava Nova like the bars of an invisible cage. Drones buzzed closer with a voyeuristic confidence, their tiny motors emitting an incessant whine that grated against her heightened senses. Helicopters orbited in unceasing loops above her, their searchlights cutting harsh, accusing beams across her vulnerable frame. It wasn’t just surveillance—it felt like a performance she’d been unwillingly thrust into; one where each and every unrehearsed move she made was captured, dissected, and broadcast to an audience she couldn’t see.
She hunched lower behind the crumbling skyscraper, curling her arms around her knees as if trying to make herself smaller. Her breathing was shallow, an attempt to steady the turmoil inside her, but the noise around her was unrelenting. The distant shouts of the gathered crowd, the whispers of those speculating on her next move, and the maddening hum of machines collectively clawed at her fraying nerves. It was worse than the overstimulation of any concert she’d ever performed, where at least she had some semblance of control over the spectacle. Here, she was the spectacle, trapped and on full display.
Something had to give.
More tears began to stream down her dirty cheeks, but she angrily blinked them away. A new wave of emotion began to slide over her sadness, galvanizing her with the resolve of righteous rage. No more crying. She didn’t have to accept this insane invasion of privacy. No one else needed to get her, and she would find some way to atone, but for right now she just needed to be alone to catch her breath.
Ava exhaled deeply, dreading the inevitable procession of prying eyes that would pursue her. Slowly, and even more cautiously, she stood, her immense shadow spilling over the ruined block behind her. Each of her movements felt deliberate this time, the understanding that any sudden gesture might tip the already fragile situation into chaos crystallizing in her mind. The crowd gasped at the sight of her rising to full height, their murmurs blending into a discordant hum of awe and fear.
Ignoring the cacophony, Ava began walking northward, her steps deliberate and slow, shaking the fractured street with every stride. Helicopters immediately adjusted their flight paths to follow her, their cameras zooming in with every movement. She could feel the scrutiny like a weight on her back, even as she left the outskirts of Manhattan for less crowded terrain. Civilians scattered in her wake, their distant screams a sharp reminder of the fear she inspired.
As she moved farther from the city’s core, the density of drones and news crews thinned, but the ever-present thrum of helicopters and the occasional glint of a hovering camera reminded her that escape was an illusion. Even in the absence of crowds, the gaze of the world was still upon her, dissecting her every step.
By the time night fell, Ava had reached the edges of the city. Before her stretched the dark expanse of the forest, its dense canopy offering an almost mythical promise of concealment. For the first time in what felt like eternity, a glimmer of hope flickered in her chest. Here, at least, she might find some reprieve from the unyielding eyes that followed her.
She crouched low as she entered the forest, her enormous hands carefully parting trees and branches like someone wading through tall grass. The crackling of snapping wood and the rustling of leaves were strangely soothing, a natural symphony that drowned out the droning machines overhead. Ava’s gigantic silhouette cast shifting shadows under the pale light of the moon, the forest swallowing her presence with surprising ease.
Deeper and deeper she ventured, the oppressive noise of the city replaced by the gentle babble of a stream. Ava paused there, kneeling by the water’s edge, and dipped her fingers into the cool current. The sensation grounded her, a fleeting tether to her humanity. She watched the ripples her touch created spread across the surface, distorting the reflection of her face. In the momentary calm, she closed her eyes, letting the sounds of nature lull her.
But the calm was short-lived. The faint hum of helicopters in the distance grew louder, a constant reminder that even here, she wasn’t free. She sighed bitterly and muttered, “Of course.” The bitterness in her tone startled her; she hadn’t meant to sound so defeated.
As dawn broke, Ava’s heightened senses picked up something new: voices. Sharp and startled, they pierced the relative peace of the forest. She turned her head sharply toward the sound, her heart sinking. A pair of hikers emerged from the underbrush, their faces frozen in shock as they took in the impossible sight before them.
“Uh…” one of them stammered, gripping the straps of his backpack like a lifeline. “Is that… is that Ava Nova? No way.” He looked like a man in his early thirties.
“It can’t be,” the other whispered, taking a hesitant step back. “She’s… huge. What do we even do?”
Ava raised a hand instinctively, her palm facing outward in what she hoped was a calming gesture. “It’s okay,” she said softly, though her voice carried an unintentional boom that made the hikers recoil. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. Please, don’t be afraid.”
The man swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the faint hum of helicopters above. “The news said you—” He hesitated, glancing at his companion. “They said you… crushed people. That you destroyed half the city.”
Ava flinched as though the words had struck her. She wanted to defend herself, to deny it outright, but the memory of crushed seats and rubble under her feet silenced her. “I didn’t mean to,” she finally managed, her voice trembling. “I was trying to help. I… I didn’t know what else to do.”
The hikers exchanged an uneasy glance. After a pause, the second hiker to speak stepped forward slightly, her fear tempered by curiosity. “What do you want from us?” she asked cautiously.
“Nothing,” Ava replied quickly, shaking her head. “I didn’t even know you were here. I just… I just wanted to get away. I needed somewhere quiet.”
The woman nodded slowly, her expression softening, though her wariness didn’t fade. “If you go deeper into the woods, there’s—”
An amber spotlight slashed through the trees, blinding them all. Ava shielded her face with one huge hand, her heart sinking as the unmistakable thrum of a helicopter grew louder.
“They found me,” Ava muttered bitterly, lowering her hand as the hikers bolted, vanishing into the shadows of the forest. She watched them disappear, her chest tightening with a mix of regret and resignation. She didn’t blame them for running.
The mechanical whir of a drone pulled Ava’s attention upward. It hovered mere feet from her face, its lens glinting like a predatory eye. The buzzing grated against her nerves until, in an impulsive motion, she swatted the machine from the air. The discordant crunch of metal as it hit the forest floor was oddly satisfying, but the victory was ultimately a hollow one. That was just one prying eye among many.
The helicopter descended lower, framing her like a criminal caught in a searchlight from an old cartoon. Every feature of her face was illuminated in stark detail, and Ava’s grimace deepened. “Just leave me alone,” she whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion and anger.
When the helicopter held its ground, refusing to retreat, something in Ava snapped. Her hand shot out, fingers curling around the tail rotor. The machine’s metal frame groaned in protest as the blades slowed to a grinding halt.
Inside the cockpit, the crew scrambled, their panicked shouts muffled but audible. Ava hesitated, realization crashing into her like a tidal wave. She loosened her grip, but it was too late. Gravity had claimed its prize. The helicopter plummeted, crashing into a clearing with a deafening explosion. Flames erupted from the site of impact, their light casting flickering shadows across the forest as thick smoke billowed upward. The ground trembled beneath her feet, and Ava staggered back, her expression frozen in horror.
“I didn’t mean to…” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the chaos.
Far away, in the command center, Captain Marlowe’s voice was sharp and decisive. “Engage,” she ordered coldly, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Tactical vehicles roared to life, their engines growling as they surged toward Ava’s location. Drones swarmed, their lenses locking onto her as snipers adjusted their scopes from concealed vantage points. The forest, formerly a place of refuge for the beleaguered pop star, had become a battleground.
Ava’s heart raced as she turned her gaze back toward the rising smoke. She clenched her fists in a desperate attempt to brace herself, feeling stray chunks of glass and metal biting into her palms. She could already hear the approaching hum of engines, as well as the cracking of twigs under heavy boots.
They weren’t going to listen. They wouldn’t stop.
Deep down, as the flames crackled and the forest trembled with the approach of soldiers, Ava realized one terrifying truth: neither could she.