#prissyhalfogre

Sam looked up from his scanning, saw the fear in Jim's eyes, and nodded. He opened the door to the basement, scurried through, and slammed it shut. Jim heard the sound of several bolts sliding into place. He turned and took another good sniff. Six total. I wonder how many they sent to the house. He picked up the box of nails Sam had just scanned, turned, and leaned against the counter so he could look over the shelves and displays at the newcomers.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," Jim said. "I take it you're looking for me?"

"Shit!" one of the strangers whispered. "No one told us he was as big as the Hulk!"

"Doesn't matter," another one hissed softly. "The reward will be worth it."

"Just, just, come out with your hands up!" a third yelled, the quaver in his voice turning his attempt at an authoritative bark into a laughable parody. "No one has to get hurt! Just surrender now!"

"Surrender?" Jim asked. "To who? I want to make sure I get the spelling right when I file the assault complaint with the police."

"You think the police are going to help you?" a fourth asked, his voice coming through the doorway. "They don't help monsters!"

"Monsters, is it?" Jim asked, his right hand picking up a pipe wrench from where Sam had been using it as a paperweight. "I see. Kid, were you in New York when the aliens attacked?"

"No ... what does that have to do with anything?" the voice from outside demanded.

"One of the people who saved the Earth is a monster," Jim said as he started toward the strangers.

"That doesn't matter," Ah...that was voice number five. Now where did number six go? "SHIELD was watching you. That's good enough for us. Once we turn you in, we'll be set for life."

"Once you ...," Jim paused, then began laughing. "You boys aren't even professionals. I'd be insulted, except ... no, strike that. I am insulted. Tell you what. Here's how it's going to go. You all are going to put your nice shiny weapons down and surrender, and when the police get here, I'll tell them that you were good boys, so you should get probation, maybe community service, depending on how badly you insult the judge. Otherwise ... well, let's just say that this isn't New York City, and there's a whole lot of vets who live here. Vets who have actual combat experience. Do you?"

"Enough to take you down," Number six said.

A moment later, the hardware store's front window shattered under the impact of a 40mm grenade. Jim groaned. Sam's insurance agent was going to scream over this. He knew that for certain, since she was Jim's insurance agent, too.

Jim threw the pipe wrench. The tumbling wrench met the grenade somewhere over the fertilizer display, and when the grenade went off, it created a sticky cloud of liquid and powdered fertilizer that filled the front of the store. The other 'monster hunters' began firing blindly into the cloud, cutting down shelves full of paint, caulks and sealers, lubricants, and bug sprays, bullets ricocheting off tools, striking sparks that set a variety of flammable liquids ablaze. The sprinkler system kicked in, and the water spray soaked everyone and everything in the store, from the clearance rack of last winter's parkas in the rear, to the 'monster hunters' in the front.

Jim hurled the box of nails toward the doorway. The cheap, sprinkler-soaked cardboard came apart, and the nails sprayed the front of the store. Three of the 'monster hunters' fell, filled with enough nails that it would require pliers to get their body armor off at the morgue.

"Put down your weapons and raise your hands above your heads," the sound of Frank Mortenson, the police chief, had the distinctive timbre only a bullhorn could produce. Given that the police station was across the street, he had to have witnessed the attack on Sam's. Jim was surprised they hadn't done something to keep him out of things.

The 'monster hunters' who had been shielded by the three in front turned and sprayed fire in Frank's direction. Now, Jim was pissed. Frank was a good man, and if those assholes had hurt him, he would tear them apart. The sound of a shotgun, followed a moment later by a cry from Number Six, told Jim that Frank, or one of his officers, at least, was still in the fight.

Jim stood to his full height, bringing his head a full foot above the sprinkler-suppressed cloud, and took a deep breath, then waded through the wreckage of the front of the store and out the front door. The last two 'monster hunters' turned at the sound of his footsteps, looked up, and peed themselves while they dropped their guns and held up their hands.

"We surrender! We surrender!" Number Four whimpered frantically. 

Jim hoisted one in each hand and growled as he brought them close to his face, "You should have thought of that before you started shooting at the police chief." He crossed the street, carrying the two. Frank groaned and used the fender of one of the two town police cars to pull himself to his feet. Jim dropped the two survivors at Frank's feet. "You OK, Frank?"

"I'm too old for this shit," Frank grumbled, then nodded at Jim. Tony Aiolli, the other officer on duty, ran out of the police station and cuffed the two. "You two are under arrest for assault, attempted murder, destruction of property, attempted arson, vandalism, assault on a police officer, and I'm sure we'll find more things to charge you with once I've had a chance to catch my breath. You have the right to remain silent, and I'd strongly advise you to use it before I pretend my friend here didn't dump you at my feet. You have the right to an attorney, and I'd strongly advise you to use it, because you two are going to be called to account for everything your buddies did, too."

"That's OK," Number Five muttered. "We got the other freak."

"You got the other ...," Jim gasped, his eyes wide. Frank nodded and pointed toward Jim's pickup. Jim threw him a grateful look and ran for the truck.

Normally, it took forty-five minutes to make it from town to the house. This trip, on the other hand, was closer to thirty. Jim used a logging road that cut close to ten miles from the trip, and when he reconnected with the county road and turned toward the house, he let out a string of curses that could have peeled paint.

A crushed Hummer was laying in the middle of the county road, the imprint of a foot across the middle, the frame snapped where the foot had landed. Dead 'monster hunters' were scattered around it, their bodies mostly charcoal that glowed faintly in the early evening shadows. Closer to the house there were scorched, glowing areas of ground, and footprints that couldn't be concealed, pressed at least a foot into the ground.

Jim brought the pickup to a screeching stop by the remains of the house, where Bobby was sitting on the front step, and Bindi, now standing nearly forty feet tall, was standing guard over him and the Mack, which was somehow miraculously unscratched.

"Looks like we're moving sooner than we'd planned," Bobby said calmly, then broke into tears, jumped off the porch, and clung to Jim as if he were drowning.

"Daddy?" Bindi asked. "Will Other Daddy be OK?"

"I, I'll be OK," Bobby said, not relinquishing his grip on Jim, who was, in turn, holding him in his arms as if he could shield him from the world. "I just ... I don't like all this excitement."

"Bindi doesn't like it either," Bindi declared. "The bad men tried to break Daddy's truck! And they broke our house! And my toys! Too big to fit into Other Daddy's truck!"

"I see, sweetie," Jim said. He held out a hand to Bindi and said, "Come here. Daddy wants to hug you, too."

Bindi looked down and moved her feet slowly and carefully, shuffling around the Mack as she approached Jim and Bobby. Bobby looked up and smiled, with tears shining on his face.

"You did good, Bindi," Bobby said. "You were very, very good."

"That's right," Jim said. "You were a very good girl."

Bobby released Jim, who wrapped his arms around Bindi's right leg and squeezed. Bindi sniffled, then began to cry.

"Bindi too big for Daddy to hug!" Bindi wailed. "Want to be small again!"

"I know, sweetie," Jim said gently. "I want you to be small again, too. But you broke the bad men, so it's OK. You did good."

"But Bindi wants hugs!" Bindi sobbed.

Jim sighed, reached up to grab Bindi's hand, and tugged, encouraging her to sit. Once she was sitting on the ground, Jim climbed onto her lap, reached up, and wrapped his arms around her neck. It was like hugging his mother, but the important thing was that she felt him hug her.

"Don't like being big, Daddy," Bindi whimpered, wrapped her arms around Jim, and began rocking miserably.

"I don't care how big you are, sweetie," Jim said gently. "You're still my little girl, and you always will be." He kissed her cheek and began singing the same song he'd sung to her the day he'd rescued her.

"Puff, the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea, And frolicked in the autumn mist, in a land called Honna Lee ...."

By the time he reached the second verse, Bindi had fallen asleep, just as she had in his truck when he'd rescued her. He climbed down and joined Bobby, and the two looked up at her while embracing.

"I'm going to have to find a flatbed and a shit ton of tarp," Jim said softly, after looking up at her for several minutes.

"Yeah," Bobby said. "If my laptop survived, I could go into town and see what I can find."

Headlights were visible, coming up the county road. They stopped at the crushed hummer, and a moment later began moving again.

"God, I hope that's Frank," Jim groaned. The vehicle the headlights were attached to came into view around the trees. A 2001 Dodge Ram, dark enough that in the twilight it could have been black. The headlights swept over Jim and Bobby, then over Bindi, and she fussed. Jim gestured at the truck, and the headlights died. A moment later, the door slammed, and Frank approached.

"Is that Bindi?" Frank asked, his voice unsteady.

"Yeah," Jim said. "The asshole was right. His buddies were up here, attacking the house. Bindi protected Bobby."

"And your truck, I see," Frank said, chuckling. "You always said she was going to get bigger, but ... this much in one day?"

"It's because they attacked," Jim said. "She gets bigger when she's stressed. And she doesn't get smaller."

"That could be a problem," Frank said. His tone, and scent, carried the message the words only implied.

"Bobby's going into town to try to find a flatbed and some tarp," Jim said. "She's too big to fit into anything enclosed. We were already planning to move. I'm sorry. We'd hoped to get out of town before anything like this happened. Is Sam OK?"

"He's fine," Frank said. "Says you sent him to safety before they started shooting up the place. Luckily, Maria says his policy was written for full replacement value, so he's talking about updating the place."

"Thank goodness!" Jim breathed.

"How about you two - uh, three?" Frank asked.

"As long as we can convince the insurance company all the damage was done by the thugs," Bobby said, "we'll be fine. Luckily, the house was entirely their doing. They shot the propane tank. Bindi shielded me and the truck from the blast."

"Good," Frank said, and gave Bindi a sidelong look. "Is she ... Is she OK?"

"She's unhappy because she's too big for hugs now," Jim said. "And she's mad that the bad men broke all her toys. But other than that, she's OK."

"You might want to call up David Meadows, at Meadows Timber," Frank said. "They might have a flatbed they're willing to sell. Tell him I sent you."

"David is usually complaining he never has enough trucks," Bobby said. "Are you sure?"

"If it'll help you get Bindi somewhere safe," Frank said, "he'll sell. His boys see her as sort of a mascot, you know. Now that she's in danger because of her size, they'll want to help."

"This is why we decided to move," Jim said. "Everyone here has been like family to us, and we don't want to endanger any of you."

"Hell, you three are family!" Frank said. "Which is why we're gonna want regular updates on how you're doing. No, don't tell me, or anyone here, where you're going. What we don't know, we can't tell. But a postcard now and then, maybe some pictures in your new home, that'll make people smile."

"Uncle Frank!" Bindi exclaimed, then began crying. "Too big now. Bindi doesn't like it!"

"Bindi, sweetie," Frank said, while approaching her and putting a hand on her leg, "I don't care how big you are. You're still my Bindi. Everyone who knows and loves you still loves you, honey. It doesn't matter how big you are. You are our Bindi, and you are special to all of us. Now, we're gonna help your Daddies get a truck for you to ride on, so they can take you somewhere safer. Somewhere you can play without bad men trying to hurt your Daddies like they did today."

"You, you are?" Bindi sniffled.

"That's right, honey," Frank said. He looked away from her, his worry strong enough to smell. "I'll be right back, OK? I promise."

"OK," Bindi said, sniffling. Jim and Bobby took the place Frank had been occupying, and gently patted Bindi's legs so she could feel them against her. Meanwhile, Frank had returned to his truck, where Jim heard him talking into his radio.

"That's right," Frank said. "Put me through to Dave Meadows. ... Yes, I know he's probably at dinner. Put me through anyway. ... Dave? It's Frank. Yeah, I need a favor. Actually, it's Bindi who needs a favor. Can you deliver a flatbed trailer to the Cole place? Tonight? Along with enough tarp to cover a load of timber? ... I'm afraid so. We need to get her out of the state. ... You'll be able to tell her yourself when you get here. ... Good. Trust me, no one's going anywhere. Oh yeah, and come up the timber road on the back side of the mountain. The county road's blocked. ... About an hour. Got it."

When Frank returned, the smell of worry was greatly reduced, and he smiled up at Bindi with the look of someone whose troubles had been lifted.

"Guess what, honey?" Frank said. "Mr. Meadows is coming up to see you. He's got a truck you can ride on, and he's bringing it up tonight."

Bobby gave Frank a surprised look, while Jim gave him a grateful smile.

"Like I said," Frank said, "Bindi's a popular girl. And you guys are family. We take care of family. So let's see what we can salvage from the mess, huh?"

By the time the sound of a Peterbilt reached them, nearly an hour later, Jim, Bobby, and Frank, with Bindi's help moving the things too big for Jim to move, had managed to recover the fire safe and a few items of clothing that would require a half-dozen washes to get the smoke smell out. Jim put the entire safe into the Mack, on the floor in front of the passenger seat, while Bobby and Frank packed the clothing into the pickup's back seat.

When the Meadows Timber Company truck pulled in, it was towing a lowboy trailer. A stack of canvas, at least four feet high, was tied down on the goosneck. The truck had barely stopped when Dave Meadows jumped out of the cab and looked up at Bindi.

"Bindi?" Dave asked. "Is that you, honey?"

"Uncle Dave?" Bindi asked, then wailed. "Too big! Bindi doesn't like being big!"

"Bindi, Bindi, Bindi!" Dave crooned as he walked up to her. His scent reassured Jim some. He was obviously scared, but approaching her despite his fear. When he put his hand on her leg, his fear dropped, a lot, but didn't vanish entirely. Just like Frank, he had a healthy fear, but was overcoming it for the sake of the sad little girl inside the kaiju body. "I know. It's awful, isn't it? Too big for hugs, too big to play with anyone because they might break. But your Daddies are here, and Uncle Frank says they're gonna take you somewhere safe. And who knows? Maybe once you're somewhere safe, we can come visit you." The lie was transparent to the adults, but it soothed Bindi.

"Really?" Bindi asked. "Is that why Uncle Dave brought the big trailer?"

"That's right, sweetie," Dave said. "We're gonna hook it up to your Daddy's truck, and then you can ride on it and he can take you somewhere safe."

Bobby climbed up on Bindi's lap and began telling her stories, while Jim, Dave, and Frank transferred the trailer from Dave's Peterbilt to Jim's Mack. Once the trailer was transferred, they began the process of guiding Bindi onto the trailer and securing her so she was safe during the trip. 

Bindi lay down on her back, with her feet against the ramp at the rear and her head resting against the gooseneck, with several layers of canvas to pad against bumps. Her arms were tied across her body, while straps held her in place from chest to ankles. As they tied her down, they talked to her constantly, asked her if she felt safe, reminded her that these were so she would stay on the truck and not fall off if she fell asleep while riding. By the time they had her strapped in, she had fallen asleep, and all they had to do was use a tarp to cover the top of her head and shield her eyes.

"Thanks," Jim said, shaking Franks hand, and then Dave's. "To both of you. I'll send a postcard when we're safely at our new address. You sure you want to handle the insurance, Frank?"

"Maria's my wife," Frank said, chuckling. "If we can't figure out an explanation, between the two of us, that makes it unmistakably obvious that the assholes who attacked us in town and your family up here are the ones to blame for all this, we don't deserve our jobs."

"And with testimony from established businessmen," Dave said, "the claims should go through without a hitch. Besides, Maria's a good woman. She's not one of those insurance agents who'll let the company walk all over you."

"I'm gonna miss you guys," Jim said, sniffing just a bit. "You really made us feel like family here."

"That's because you are," Frank said. "I wish you didn't have to go, but with all that crap SHIELD dumped on the world, every asshole with a gun who wants to make his name is going to show up here. Hopefully, once word gets out that your house got blown up, most of them will decide you were already taken out, and they won't bother."

"We can hope," Jim said. He climbed into his truck and waved down at the two men. He really was going to miss them, but better they be alive than caught in the crossfire of all the cowboys, just like his mother had warned against. He picked up the mic on his CB and keyed it. "Break one-nine. This here's Prissy. You there, Numbers?"

"Right behind you," Bobby replied. "I have a good eye on her, but I don't hear any music."

"Oops!" Jim said, flipped a switch that turned on speakers on the back of the sleeper, and started the playlist he'd kept in his stereo since Bindi had been small enough to fit in the sleeper. A moment later the music began. Jim guided the truck down the road from the house for the last time, with Bobby not far behind.