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The attack on the city was fast, brutal and precise with intent to create maximumcarnage. Buildings fell, fires erupted and the air was heavily laden with the terrified cries of the panicked masses screaming and fleeing for their lives from the invading monster.

But rather than a risen dinosaur from the depths, or a tentacled horror from the skies, the antagonist was a gray and tan seventeen year old coyote girl clad only in a simple bra and loincloth made of dark brown leather. Long, unbridled auburn hair whipped in the hot wind generated by dozens of fires while tank shells exploded harmlessly against her legs and abdomen doing little but to anger the giantess further as she roared in fury at the world.

Skyscrapers fell like dominoes, her swiping paws, kicking feet and swishing tail never wasting a single stroke, as if she knew where to each one precisely to fold it in half. As if she had done this same vicious performance hundreds of times before.

And, in fact, she had.

How did it come to this? Ashley paused in between snarls to sigh tiredly even as she ashed her fangs at the overhanging tram which, in turn, ashed back at her with dozens of cameras snapping photos from the cheering tourists within. I'm an actress, not a theme park ride!

Paint red and blue in paint so old it was beginning to fleck off, the center of the tram was decorated with words MONSTER TOURS in gold letters. "HOLD ON PEOPLE!" The voice of the tour guide screeched over the shoddy PA system. "YOTEZILLA IS A LITTLE CRANKY TODAY!"

The lines were broadcasted from the PA both to give atmosphere to the tourists but also as cues for Ashley. Not that she needed a cue anymore, able to run the entire performance in her sleep. Still struggling to look enraged instead of bored, she took a half step towards the tram, the motion slow and plodding and a mockery of just how fast she couldhave moved if she really wanted to.

"OH-NO! SHE'S COMING THIS WAY" Ashley raised a single paw menacingly in the air,

"HANG ON, EVERYBODY," and gave a single, half-hearted swipe that missed the car by a good thirty meters. "WE'RE HIT! WE'RE HIT! OH GOD, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

The ancient hydraulic system that swung the car from side to side with its worn, near toothless gears creaking and moaning was probably a greater danger than she was, yet the passengers were clearly terrified of her, crowding back in their seats, away from the windows. As if that would really protect them were she truly the bloodthirsty beast she played.

This wasn't what I expected when I was promised screaming fans. She hated that most; not her act, not even her stage name, but that her whole purpose in this facade was to make people afraid of her. She wanted to be liked and adored not feared.

"I'M HITTING HER WITH THE SMOKE BOMB, HOPE IT BUYS US ENOUGH TIME TO GET AWAY!" A cloud of harmless white smoke exploded from a canister beneath the tram. I wish they'd use something that didn't smell like burning tires. Yelping in false pain and crinkling her nose in genuine disgust, Ashley stepped back and made clawing motions at her face.

The tram continued onwards, the PA blaring,"THANK-YOU, THANK-YOU! YOU'VE ALL BEEN A GREAT AUDIENCE."

The audience whooped, cheered, and to Ashley's disgust applauded the talentless little troll while ignoring the real star of the performance: her, damn it, her!

As if picking up on her frustration, the tour guide chose that moment to add, "HEH, I DON'T KNOW WHY YOTEZILLA IS SUCH A BAD MOOD, TODAY, MAYBE IT'S THAT TIME OF THE MONTH!"

Laughter intermixed with applause. Ears burning in humiliation, Ashley had no problem finding the means to produce an enraged roar, centering it on the tram|and more importantly, the taunting voice within. If I ever get my hands on that little two-bit hack, I'll give him a real performance!

Her indignant raging was interrupted by a dull buzz echoing from the center of the destroyed city. It was meant for her, not the tourists, a reset warning. And it starts all over, she thought; stepping away from the scene as toppled buildings stood back up, fires winked out, and the rail-mounted military/emergency vehicles backtracked out of sight.

"Ready on set," the automated voice droned from the speakers. I don't even get a esh and blood director. "Ready on the set. Next show in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes. That was how long it would take the next tram to load up and get down the track; with the same snarky tour guide and more or less be the same audience.

***

Ian considered it a good day until his hat blew out of the tram. His initial reaction to the event had been disappointment and indignation more than angst at losing the last thing his father ever gave him.

Everything else had been perfect: his tip jar was full, his manager slyly dropped the hint that he was looking at a promotion to supervisor, and then, in a cruel joke of fate, his hat blew off the tram! And it happened ten minutes before his shift was to end for the day, too.

It had taken every ounce of self-control and practiced cheeriness in the sixteen

year old orange fox to avoid swearing profusely right in front of the elderly couple and soccer mom with kids in the front seat while mentally screaming as the tattered red cap uttered out of the moving tram and into the unknown.

No! Not Dad's hat! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Now, after hours, he went to find it. Twisting the hatch open, he was greeted by a warm blast of warm night air into the cool atmosphere of the maintenance tunnel he had used to slip in under the three hundred foot tall electrified fence line separating the public from the attractions.

Said attractions would be back in their pens for tonight, though, leaving him free to pursue his goal without worry of becoming one of the random disappearances the park played host to every year. Sometimes it was a maintenance worker, others, a drunk guest who slipped by security, none of whom ever turned up so much as a hair, not surprising, given how easily the towering carnivores could dispose of a body.

Climbing the rest of the way through the opening, Ian emerged onto a black-ened rubber spread meant to look like paved asphalt. Sure looks different from down here. From above in the tram, the city was a seamless illusion, but down here on the ground it was all too easy to see the joints and cracks between the panels, the exposed gears and machinery behind plants, fake rocks concealing fuse boxes and water mains.

Real cities were never truly dark; streetlights and buildings illuminating them well after the sun went down. This was not a real city. At ten pm, anyone who worked here during the day went home and maintenance icked a switch, plunging the faux metropolis into darkness, leaving it monolithic and ominous.

Luckily, I came prepared, he grinned, producing a small ashlight from his right pocket. Despite being only palm-sized, it projected a beam bright enough to illuminate the darkened "streets" and, if he was not careful, could be spotted by security patrols.

Fortunately, Ian knew their patrol times and the donut munching, jargon speaking wannabes who spent the day chasing skateboarders never deviated from the schedules or stayed in an area longer than they had to. It landed by the pizza house, I'm sure of it.

The restaurant in question was no more real than anything else in the city, but the art team responsible for the designs felt that it added color to their set. Come on, where are you? Ian scanned the light frantically around the pizza house, fingers hastily setting the lens wider and wider, I'm not losing that hat even if I do get fired over this!

"Lost?" Ian jumped in surprise as a loud feminine voice spoke from directly above. "It's after hours; the park is closed, what are you doing in here?"

Crap! Security was here early, Just my luck they'd pick tonight to actually give a damn! From the sound of things, the rent-a-cop was up on one of the catwalks with a bullhorn. A female rent-a-cop, and a young one at that judging by the soft alto.

He frowned; I thought we only had guys in the security department. "Took a wrong turn, that's all," he lied, eyes still glued to the ground, frantically scanning within the scope of the light, where is it, damn it? If he was going to lose his job over this, he might as well not leave until he found that hat.

There was a long pause as his voice echoed between the metal structures; the security guard mulling over his explanation, making note of his uniform to see that he was an employee.

"Wrong turn, huh?" There was a definite note of I-call-BS in her voice, a sharp, disdained edge. "Not much of a guide, are we?"

Ian growled; first he lost his prized possession, then his job, and to top it off he was getting critiqued about his performance by someone from the Minimum Wage Union. Well, if I'm getting the pink slip, might as well earn it.

"At least I have value, to the company." he replied nastily, letting his voice drip with arrogance and self-importance. "I'm the one who makes the stupid, savage beasts here attractive to the general populace. I'm the one who actually makes the money. Do you think anyone would want to look at these freaks without me there to spruce them up? Would anyone come see this Yotezilla joke without me?"

A wordless snarl of anger sounded from above|clear and without the scratchiness the security bullhorns and the tram PAs normally carried. Sensing a deep cut, Ian decided to twist the blade. "What significance do you have here, exactly?"

The lady security guard did not immediately answer. When she did, her voice was calm, unwavering with a deathly sweetness to it. "I think I can answer your question. Look up."

And for the first time in the conversation, Ian looked up, pointing his flashlight in the direction of the bullhorn voice as he did so. His jaw dropped. There was no catwalk. There was no bullhorn. There was no security guard.

But there was a giant, and very familiar, coyote girl staring down at him, propped up against the nearest tower, arms crossed disdainfully. Her hazel eyes glimmered bright green in the reection of his ashlight, lips peeled back in anger to reveal sharpened fangs almost as tall as Ian was.

"As to your other question: Would anyone would come see Yotezilla without you..." the corners of her muzzle lifted in a nasty smile full of fangs, "how about we find out?"

***

"Oh," Was all Ian said upon the realization of who, what, he had just antagonized. All that kept him from screaming was the constant practice at hiding his true feelings from those around him and the ability to act in complete opposite; he could be perky when actually angry, intrigued when bored, calm when terrified. And now he was very much in need of artifical calmness.

Mind racing with primal fear, he concocted a desperate plan. The giantess, he hoped, would have as much trouble seeing a small speck of him at night in the blackened set as he would an ant. She can't find me without the light, he thought, clinging to blind hope as though it were truth.

Tossing in the ashlight in the opposite direction, Ian bolted, back towards the manhole/maintenance cover. "Hey! Did I say you could go?" Yotezilla snarled, pushing herself off the building and taking a thunderous step in his direction--towards the flashlight, much to his good fortune.

Unluckily, her second step brought her foot down atop the manhole cover, the only way out. "I've been trapped in this dump, this same spot, for months. Do you think I wouldn't know where all the rat holes are?" She gave a short, haughty laugh.

For the first time that night Ian felt no urge to rise to her baiting, spinning on one heel and darting down the adjacent alley. Though fake, the city inevitably had the same sharp turns and tight spaces of a genuine suburban sprawl, leaving it the maze to his rat.

A sharp, strong breeze whipped up at his back: her fingers, she had just barely missed grabbing him and ending it right there. Ian fought the urge to look back knowing he would freeze if he did.

Regardless, judging by the loudness of the heavy, frustrated growl, he didn't need to look back to tell she was close behind him. Hide, I have to hide! Heart thumping in his ears, the fox's mind was anything but rational, yet what little clear thought remained held a brief conference with survival instinct and determined that while he couldn't outrun the predator--she could easily cover five seconds of running with a single stride--he did at least have the advantage of concealment.

Plus, it was dark and he was small by comparison. "She can't find me without a light source." Panting, heartbeat throbbing in his ears, Ian attened himself against a wall, wishing desperately for the door handle at his back, another eccentric artistic touch, to open and lead him to the safety inside.

He expected to hear more taunting but there was only dead silence, which was far, far worse, as it indicated the huntress was truly dedicated to searching him out. At least the pounding of the giantess's footsteps told Ian how close she was, despite being unable to see exactly where she was. The set piece towers were tall and close enough to conceal both predator and prey.

Perhaps I can get back to the hatch, he thought.

A distant groan of a heavy object being dragged from one spot to another killed that plan. "Whoops," Yotezilla jeered, "Better not leave this uncovered,

some more vermin might get in."

Glancing around the corner, a pit formed in Ian's stomach as she daintily pushed a tank, a real one donated by the military in return for being allowed a recruiting station at the front gate, over the manhole cover.

Damn.

Okay, so escape was no longer an option, but Ian still had his Needle in a Haystack card to play. "She can't find me without light," he repeated in a hoarse voice, mouth devoid of moisture. The footsteps were getting further away, swelling Ian's hopes as they did so.

He could avoid her, for hours if need be, until she got bored and left, then it would simply be a matter of waiting until the park opened again and he got help. but that plan vanished with the dark as the set promptly lit up like a Christmas tree, the wall behind him glowing white with heat and light.

Yelping in surprise and pain, Ian hopped off the tower's side and into the street|directly south of Yotezilla. "Ah, there you are." Dropping into a crouch as if readying for a pounce, she afforded Ian a lovely view straight down her bikini top. A view he was unable to enjoy due to terror as she charged forward in a half lope/half pounce, sweeping her cupped hands forward, down and out.

Ian staggered back, feeling the ground shake and sway with her movements; wait, he thought that's not her. Then nearly fell down a yawning gap as the street split at his feet, the double yellow lines zigzagging as a wave of hot steam blasted up in front of him. It's the damn show! She started it up when she hit the light switch!

He was not the only one taken by surprise. A high-pitched yelp that was more embarrassment than pain sounded from the giantess. Having stepped directly over one of the "exploding sewer line" spigots, she caught the blast of warm air directly between her legs, billowing her loincloth straight up.

Of course, such an event had been planned for by the costume department, the Monster Tours being most popular with young children and the soccer moms who herded them through the park, thus the wardrobe malfunction revealed nothing more than a pair of short white gym shorts, keeping the monster decent as she was angry.

"You're gonna pay for that!" She snarled, pulling the lower half of her costume back down and straightening it out, the cavernous interior of her triangular ears beat red in embarrassment. "Think that was funny? Or are you getting off on it, you little pervert!?"

"Me?" Ian cried from behind the prop car he'd taken shelter behind, "You turned on the set! That was your own fault!" Kicking himself, he realized too late that he should have stayed silent; her canine hearing could detect a mouse squeak as readily as an explosion.

But a summer spent as an informative/expert voice, the one person who never kept his mouth shut. It was practically instinct now, he literally could not stay quiet to save his life. Yotezilla came for him again.

There was no clean shave or near miss this time. Ian turned to run again only to see her tan fingers interlock ahead of him like the slamming gate of a prison cell.

Backing up, he ran straight into her cupped palms. Like giant pythons the digits coiled tightly around Ian, pressing the very breath from his lungs, threatening to crush his ribcage as if it were made of toothpicks, snatching him up, his heart plunging into his stomach as it had on the Suicide Climb he had ridden on a dare from his friend in Foods last week.

"Gotcha!"

***

No good calls ever came after midnight. Ten years in this cesspit of a park had taught Gerald this, ten years watching what had once been described as a wonder of the world decay and rot.

The late fifties wolf, his formerly ebony coat streaked with gray, seriously considered rolling over in bed, away from the shrill ringing and letting his voicemail pickup the call. But just as calls after were never good, they were never trivial, he thought with a grunt, picking up the receiver and placing it against a tattered, torn ear.

"Go ahead."

"We've got an issue on Set B," security answered tersely, as if they had discovered a ghastly crime scene like on one of the TV dramas. "It involves that new employee you hired last May."

Gerald groaned inwardly, knowing just who they were talking about. "Damn youth of this country." Then into the phone, "I'll be right there. Try not to call in the marines before I sort this out."

Twenty-one, He didn't bother to get fully dressed, grabbing only an old, tattered coat, faded with years of wear until the MONSTER TOURS patch barely hung on by a few strands of thread. He slipped it on over his boxers like a crude bathrobe and padded out the door into the crisp night air.

I told them the minimum hiring age should have been twenty-one. Kids in this kind of environment are never a good idea. But the upper managementand HR wouldn't hear it. Sixteen to eighteen was the golden age for jobs in the park.

The kids were fresh into the workplace, free from their parents oversight, eager to fund their new freedom and didn't yet know a raw deal when they saw it. Unfortunately, they also happen to be careless, destructive hyper-emotional idiots.

As he lived on the premises, Gerald arrived at Set B less than five minutes and quickly saw what security was complaining about: everything was on, running and trashed. "Hoo-boy, someone's head is gonna roll for this."

It looked like a hurricane had run through the fake city several times, tipping over the buildings that weren't supposed to fall, kicking vehicles and boulders about like soccer balls and even blocking the main maintenance hatch into the area.

Just as it didn't take long to arrive at the set, Gerald quickly located the source of the incident, even managing to approach the offender unseen, though he did not cling to stealth for long. "Ashley Preston, you have some explaining to do!" He roared, stepping out from behind a clock tower, causing the shorter coyote girl to jump with a squeak.

She had been staring intently down at something in her cupped hands, and

at the sound of his voice spun a full one-eighty, holding them behind her back guiltily. "I'm so sorry Mr. Cavenson, I didn't mean to."

Crossing her legs she looked downward like a toddler caught breaking a vase, a puppy caught tearing down curtains. Appearing cute, innocent and contrite, the act often worked to ease her boss's temper, just not tonight.

"Didn't mean to what?" Gerald crossed his arms. "Didn't mean to wreck a multimillion dollar attraction; didn't mean to cost the park hundreds of dollars in electricity and water by turning the set on after hours? Please tell me what you did mean to do, Miss Preston. And please explain why I shouldn't fire you while you're at it."

Ears drooping, tail between her legs, Ashley scrunched her face and began to snifle. "I'm so sorry," she mewled. "I'll make it up, I promise. I'll work double-shifts; I'll even come up here on my own time to help fix it. Just don't send me back to the Reservation, there's nothing for me there!"

She was right about that. Gerald hated this job, hated this place, but it was still better than the government-approved wasteland where giants like himself and Ashley had to stay within the border of or get blasted on sight by land-based cruise missiles.

I just can't stay mad at her. She was like a daughter to him, a secondn daughter anyway; he'd miss her if she were gone. "Okay, Fine." Not wishing to giving, he cocked his head down and pointed a nger at her. "But you're on probation, young lady. Say good-bye to your next two paychecks," he glared sternly. "And don't make any weekend plans any time soon, either."

"Oh thank-you, thank-you!" Gerald had to give the girl credit towards her acting skills; he was unsure whether her other responses had been genuine, but the relief and gratitude and being kept on seemed real enough.

She leaned forward and wrapped a single arm around him in a hug and as she did so, he became aware of a series of faint, muffled cries emanating from somewhere nearby.

"I never did ask," Gerald said, "What led to all this?"

Ashley flicked her right ear a few times as if unsure how to answer before slowly replying, Well, I came back here to rehearse|with the power off of course|and when I got here, I found this." She brought her other hand forward, opening it partially to show Gerald the squirming fox in her palm while keeping him pinned with her middle fingers.

Gerald didn't recognize the fox, but he did recognize the uniform. "Oh, thank God, a supervisor! This crazy bitch tried to kill me!"

Ashley bristled at the notorious female slur, however technically true it may have been due to her canine ancestry. "I caught this little potty-mouthed twerp sneaking about. I thought I was just flipping the lights on with the main breaker. Turns out it was more than that."

"Switches that ip everything on tend to have the word Main in them," Gerald scoffed.

"But it wasn't labeled!" Ashley whined.

"My name is Ian Michaels, I work Tours and Information! I'm filing a report with HR for this!"

Ashley growled, lifting him up to the end of her muzzle, dangling him in front of her teeth like a strip of jerky, giving him a small but noticeable shake. "Your name's going to be lunchmeat if you don't shut-up!" Ian shut up.

Satisfied with having quashed the rebellion, she looked up to Gerald, "so, what do we do with him?"

The wolf shrugged nonchalantly, "the rules are clear; trespassers into our area can be dealt with however we deem fit. And since you caught him, it's your call."

"What?" Ian cried. "But I work here!"

The giants ignored him, or it seemed. "Even the ones who work here?"

Ashley said, slowly, as if daring to hope for the fulfillment of her wish to see an end to the annoyance.

Gerald shrugged. "You and I work here. We can't go into their side of the park, now can we?" He indicated the massive, electrified fence surrounding the set. "And if we did, they'd call in gunships, bombers, missile strikes, the works, to stop us, to put us down like animals."

For the first time, he acknowledged Ian's presence, giving the little fox a nasty look. "And the littles know it, too, they all signed a waiver, remember?"

"Yeah!" Ian protested, "But they said that was just legal BS. I was assured that nothing would actually happen."

"I'm going back to bed," Gerald yawned once as though not having heard before turning around, "I suggest you hurry up and finish your business, then hit the sack as well. Tomorrow's Saturday|you're working it now and you know how long and hard the weekend shift runs."

"Of course, Mr. Cavenson," Ashley said softly, turning to regard her prize with a predatory glee. "This won't take long at all."

Grunting, the wolf padded away, leaving a sick-looking Ian in the paws of a triumphant Ashley. "Stupid kids," he muttered.

***

I got him! I finally got him!

Causing a plaintive squeak of a pained cry to issue from her cupped palms,

Ashley did a small twirl of victory. For months she had listened to his taunting jeers, his patronizing dismissal of her as a simple beast. The sexist jokes had been the last straw.

No more! I'll never have to listen to him again after tonight! A hazy red murderous mist crept in and overshadowed her thoughts, a deep primal urging.

Since that first show, when he called her the Hideous Horror from Hell, she had fantasized about the day his tiny body would squirm and writhe in her grasp, no longer able to hide behind the safety of rules and electrified fences.

But strangely, even to Ashley, her anger began to fade, replaced with desire.

She didn't want to end the life in her hands because he had slighted her or that she thought he deserved it, she wanted to because she could. And it would make her happy to do so.

Now he's mine! And Mr. Cavenson says I get to do whatever I please with him! She paused in mid victory dance, as soon as I figure out just what that'll be. Slowly opening her paws and staring down at the small ball of orange-red fur that regarded her with cool green eyes, she grinned directly at him, enjoying how he cringed away from her long, sharp teeth.

Never had this opportunity before and probably won't have one any time soon|better do it right! Better make sure I enjoy this. Ashley licked her lips as her stomach growled. Dinner had been many hours ago, and the fox's bright orange-red and white coloring left him appearing oh-so-tantalizing like an exotic treat begging to be snapped up and savored.

On the other hand, she'd heard from her fellow stage actors that few pleasures in life compared to the visceral thrill of slowly pressing or squeezing the tiny things' bodies until the popped like a grape, leaking warm uids and mush between their fingers and toes.

In the end, her dark musings concluded, it didn't matter how she choose to end the life, only that it happened. Everything else was just a matter of personal preference.

"Are you going to eat me or crush me?" Asked a small voice, cowed and fearful.

"What?" Ashley recoiled in half-surprise, having almost forgotten him, caught up in her internal musings. Her hand waivered, causing the fox to cling to the very finger he had been shying away from, but his gaze never left hers. "I said, `are you going to eat me or crush me'?"

"What makes you think I'm going to do one of those two things?" Ashley snapped, defensively, feeling her ears burn at having been found out so readily.

"It's always one of those two things." His voice was quiet, reserved; defeated and expectant, no longer the same insulting, patronizing voice she had grown to loathe in her time here.

He knew the end was coming and there was nothing he could do to avoid it. "That's what you giants do. That's why we use the trams; why we have the Reservations; we have the fence." The fox shivered, "Just please make it quick." The fence. Hearing it mentioned cut through the bloodlust and savage inebriation enough for Ashley to remember the first time she had seen it, when she had asked Gerald Cavenson for its purpose.

"Is it to keep thieves out?"

"No. The littles could easily fit through the gaps and there are a million other tiny entrances.:

"So what's it for, then?"

"To remove temptation."

"What temptation?"

"The temptation you're going to feel every time you see one of those little metal boxes roll by full of toys and treats. I don't like hiring people your age for that reason; kids have poor impulse control, make bad decisions|and we're still paying for the last lawsuit when your predecessor slipped up."

"But it's not my decision, we're losing money and Management thinks we need new attractions to get back in the black. Just remember, if you ever give in, assuming you're not blown full of holes, it's straight back to the Reservation and you'll never see anything but desert ever again."

She had remembered, every single time she felt the temptation. But as time passed and her infatuation with the stage grew, even as a B-grade monster, Ashley forgot the temptation, replacing that desire with the desire to be popular and beloved as a great stage icon.

Over time, she grew to see the little beings not as potential prey, but as something better, something even more gratifying: potential fans. If only she didn't have to play such a loathsome character!

They'd love her, she knew it, they'd recognize her talent, admire her abilities as a performer if only she wasn't forced to act like a brutal, unrepentant killer.

But that's exactly how I'm acting right now, she realized with horror, stomach twisting in sickening clarity , And no one's forcing it|this is all me! The temptation had resurfaced tonight; in fact it had never gone away. Buried yes, but never gone, emerging as soon as Mr. Cavenson gave her permission to indulge herself.

Oh God, what did I almost do?

"Still not sure?" The fox asked dryly.

Ashley was sure, sure of the only thing she could do. The only action left to her now. "I'm not going to hurt you." The words rang hollow even as she said them.

He snorted lightly, disbelievingly. "Do you enjoy your victims having false hope? I know you're lying."

"You know? You know?" She raised him to her face, lips peeled back in a snarl, but she felt more hurt than angry at this point. "You think you know me so well. Every damn day I hear you up there, telling those dolts and nincompoops about the dreaded Yotezilla, the vicious, terrible, man-eating Yotezilla."

Her fingers slowly closed, squeezing the fox into visible pain.

"It's what I have to say," He wheezed, tiny arms pushing futility against her, "it's what's in the script."

It was true, damn him she knew it was true. Hell, she had a copy of said script hanging in her room. "I'm not a script!" Ashley's chest heaved until she thought it might explode, feeling tears sting at the back of her eyes.

But her grasp relaxed, freeing the fox that cringed, cowering in her hand, actually moving under the shoulder-width fingers previously squeezing the life out of him, as if they might provide shelter.

"I'm not Yotezilla." she said, breathing slowly, heavily, feeling her cool return and her confidence with it. "And I'll prove it to you."

She took a deliberate step towards the blocked hatch and eased the tank off of it with one hand. Her other paw lowered carefully, steadily to the ground, gently depositing the fox onto the ground next to the maintenance hatch. "You're free to go." She paused, "and my name is Ashley, by the way."

"Ashley," he stumbled over the name|as if unable to associate a simple, normal girl's name with the godlike being towering over him. "Thank-you, I guess." He took two steps toward the hatch, and then stopped; turning to look back slowly, first up at her, then out into the set. "I appreciate you not killing me, but I can't go yet."

"And why not?" She groaned irritably, jamming her hands down at her sides in frustration. "What reason could you possibly have for wanting to stick around in here after the nightmare you just went through?"

"I still need to find my hat."

***

After an hour of searching after his brush with death personified as a female titan, Ian found it. He found the hat. And had no idea how to get it back.

After falling from the tramcar, the hat had drifted lazily in the breeze before snagging itself on one of the tramcar towers, midway down the steel structure, hanging off an emergency light at chest level to the giant coyote that dwelt here but it may as well have been miles or so above his head. "Oh, hell," The young red fox muttered, "there it is."

"How are you going to get it way up there?" Ashley asked from behind him, her face, which Ian had to admit was quite pretty when not looming over him in a snarl, drawn up in a smirk. She tossed her long auburn hair lazily over her shoulder, her gray and tan furred tail swishing with interest in the tiny drama unfolding below.

Like a dog too large to drive away and too intrigued to leave on its own, Ashley being a coyote aside, she had followed him on his search through the park like the world's largest shadow.

"I'll climb up," Ian replied, coming to the iron struts buried in the concrete at the base of the tower. He eyed a maintenance ladder, tracing it all the way to the top. "It's right near the top, how hard can it be?" He aimed a cocky smile up at her.

He may as well have tried to pierce a tank's armor with a BB gun. "Good luck," she replied coldly, crossing her arms and taking a step back. The message was clear: she wouldn't kill him, but she was under no obligation to keep Ian from killing himself.

Gulping as the realization of scale came into play, Ian began to ascend up the tower one rung at a time. His progress began fast, then slowed after several minutes of climbing, his arms tired. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that he hadn't even passed Ashley's navel, hanging like a moon in the center of the at field of her trim tummy. Below sat between her equally toned hips and thighs, all presented shamelessly as she was still wearing the tiny two-piece bra and loincloth costume serving as her work clothes.

Being a set piece monster must be quite the workout, he thought, hands growing shaky for reasons besides nervousness. Focusing back on the climb and putting all thoughts out of his mind, Ian continued to climb, his focus on the objective, on the uttering red hat threatening to break free and off to god-knew-where.

Almost...almost. An eternity later he found himself upon a small walkway at the top of the ladder, though now only a dozen feet separated him from his prize. Well, I've come this far, haven't I?

Ian swung his legs over the guardrail, the night air pulling and tugging at his fur as he stepped out onto the a narrow crossbar, arms to the sides like an airplane giving him the gait and appearance of a tightrope walker.

From behind him came a harsh bark of a laugh; Ashley found his trial amusing. "You look so cute," she teased. To her, such a life-threatening drama had to appear as little more than the antics of a single deranged insect.

Focus...focus. One foot over the other, Ian went down the thin strip of metal, gaze torn between the metal walkway and the red cap at the end. Left, right, left, right, on went the chant in his mind until he came to the end, swallowing hard at the strong breeze pulling his clothing and hair to and fro.

But it was there, right there! Just an arms length up and to the right hung his father's red hat, Ian's quest near completion. Biting his lip and grasping onto a low-hanging power cable running up to the tram wires, he leaned out over the abyss, knowing better than to look down.

Almost...His fingertips brushed the edge of the brim, causing the cap to shift, catching the wind and ready to fly away once more. No! Without thinking, Ian let go of the power cable and leaned the last several inches to grab his prize, giving a small cry of success as he took hold of the worn and faded cloth.

But scarcely had he time to celebrate when the young fox felt his balance, overtaxed and unsustainable, give way, his cheer turning to a yelp as he plunged into space, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the ground rushing up to finish him--

--only to land on a soft, broad, fuzzy surface spread beneath like a trampoline after less than a second of freefall. Gasping in shock as if having landed in a giant tub of ice water, Ian opened his eyes, looking at his surroundings as a familiar face hovered over him. "You're dumb," Ashley said, lecturing him. "Do you know that?" He might have just imagined it, but there was a hint of playfulness in her scolding.

Ian swallowed, nodding sheepishly, grateful for the rescue regardless of what he had to listen to. "Th-thank you," he said. "But I don't know why." The hand holding him slowly moved out of the structure of the tower, coming to rest, he noted with a burning blush under his fur, right between the grayish white furred hills of Ashley's chest.

"Because Gerald would make me clean the smear up." The hand tilted upward and Ian slid down the fuzzy plain of her palm, coming to rest in the crook of her cleavage, the soft fluff of her bosom catching him like a mattress as her hand folded inward to hold him against herself.

Though his head swam a sea of hormones at where he was, looking up he saw no sign on Ashley's part that this was for any purpose beyond making him easier to carry, like the tiniest of kittens. That she could put him here without any awkwardness of her own spoke volumes for how insignificant he must have seemed to a being like her.

Pressed as he was against her, Ian felt every one of Ashley's steps, a tremor running up her body and through him. Imagine what it would be like if I were under one of those paws when it came down. A shudder; he had never felt so powerless and below another in his life.

It was a sobering reminder of how his kind was viewed to them, he thought, their lives, thoughts, and feelings inconsequential. She probably didn't even care about his need to put himself in danger for the hat, but he was wrong to assume she cared nothing about him at all, as she had demonstrated by saving him. No matter how aloof and disdainful she was, Ashley did care about a life that in all likelihood she did not.

"It's pretty late," Ashley said suddenly, looking ahead as if she had been in contemplative thoughts of her own. "The ferries and the subways won't be running at this hour, meaning one way or another you're stuck on this island, and I'm stuck with you." She cocked her head down at Ian, "Where are you going to sleep? Where did you even plan to go after you got that hat back?"

He ushed, "I-I hadn't thought about it yet, to be honest."

"Big surprise," Ashley replied dryly. "I'd offer to take you back to my place, but I don't think you'd be safe there, not with the others." She frowned, "And some of them might wander down here when they learn of this little `incident' to see the damage for themselves. I can't leave you alone, that's for sure."

Ian's stomach lurched as she sat down, leaning up against one of the larger structures on the set, reclining against it. "This looks as good a spot as any, I suppose. I'm quite tired, so forgive me if I'm not of a mind to chat." She gave a cavernous yawn.

He shivered at the sight of her swordlike teeth and the cavern they lined. He'd gotten out of dinner at least, and though that still left breakfast. "I wouldn't really know what to say anyhow," Ian offered, nervous and intimidated, but not outright afraid of her anymore. "I've never talked to a girl I was below the ankle of."

"And I've never talked to a boy I could hold in one hand," Ashley replied softly, reclining further, wrapping her tail over herself, atop her chest and forming a snug blanket about Ian. "But it looks like we're both in uncharted territory tonight."

Ian smiled, resisting the urge to make a comment about his surroundings; he finally had her in a good mood after all. "That we are," he said quietly, resting his head against the silken wall, closing his eyes, his worries, though not gone, at least set at ease. "That we are."