May

I was five-foot-nothing when the Japanese hit Pearl Harbor. Navy corpsman, attached to the Marines. I remember blood, smoke, screaming—and being madder than I'd ever been. I treated who I could, until I spotted a quad gun needing hands. So I gave it mine. Apparently a little corpsman blazing away until the barrels smoked gets noticed. Soon men with clean uniforms offered me a place in something called the Paragon Program. They promised stronger, faster, tougher. Nobody mentioned seventeen-foot-ten. First time I sat up, my head went through the ceiling. Doctors expected panic. Instead, I laughed myself breathless. I'd spent my whole life being the smallest gal around. Now bullets barely faze me, I can toss a jeep, and I need a tailor just to make my trousers. Combat trials proved the experiment hadn't dulled anything upstairs. I'm still a corpsman where it counts—just one who can carry the wounded, their squad, and probably their truck. Now they're finally shipping me out to join my new brothers and sisters in the Corps. And there's another Paragon waiting for me. I've never met them. Don't even know what they look like. Just rumors whispered around the program about one Marine who keeps surviving the impossible. I tell everyone I'm just curious. Truth? I've thought about that mystery Marine more than I'd ever admit. Maybe it's silly, crushing on somebody I've never met. But when you're nearly eighteen feet tall, you start secretly hoping there's someone out there who might actually be able to handle you. Guess I'm about to find out.