Giant Solidarity G/T

Prologue: GRUDAT Meeting

"I don't know. A GRUDAT rally, Bro?" I surveyed the crowded parking lot from the front passenger seat. When my good friend Troy said we were going for dinner and beers at Javelin Alehouse, I didn't think he meant it was a social/political function. Tonight apparently, the entire Giant-owned restaurant was reserved. As I recalled from friends who had parties at The Javelin, that required a large deposit with at least three zeros. Block letters on the illuminated sign outside the patio seating read Private Event Tonight: GRUDAT Social 8-11pm. A familiar acronym, GRUDAT denotes a hate group Giants for the Roundup and Degradation of All Tiny-Folk. The Giant-supremacist club's venue this evening, which pumped out heavenly burger fumes, was a well-known local sports bar. The Javelin was especially popular with athletes, policemen and soldiers. A testosterone clearinghouse, with the best hot wings in the city, as the newspaper frequently reminded us. Since Troy spent four years in the Colossus Army, he was becoming a regular. Until that moment, I was only suspicious of his hateful, anti-human affiliations. Three other Giant men crossed in front of Troy's car, approaching the Alehouse. One wore a sweatshirt displaying a GRUDAT sentiment: Pro-Human-Caging. I already felt out of place. I glared at Troy behind the wheel, informing him. "I don't really think this is my crowd."

"Just some Giant solidarity," said Troy, parking his car. Apparently ignoring my grievance, he punched me in the shoulder, like we used to do after lacrosse practice in school. "Besides Vic, this ain't a rally. Don't jump to conclusions." Unbuckling himself, Troy explained the distinction. "Rallies happen in designated, top secret meeting places, or outside pro-human events, marathons, and stuff." He nodded outside, to the people yelling and smoking outside the barroom. "Tonight's just a social event the group's sponsoring. Casual hangout."

"Even if that's true, I wouldn't even know how to talk to these people." As I spoke, I heard a male Giant voice yell drunkenly somewhere in the parking lot. I hesitated, with my hand on the doorhandle. "I got nothing against humans, Troy!" I'd told my boyhood friend this so many times since he came home for the holidays, I was sick of tasting the words. When he first went off to join CA, he was a very different Giant, fresh out of secondary school. Troy's old man persuaded him to join the Colossus Army to learn discipline. If there was one thing Troy was inundated with now, it was discipline.

Furthermore, he seemed to harbor more hostility and angst than he had after graduation. This showed when he narrowed his eyes at my indifference to his bigotry. "So, you think people one-twentieth our size should be treated equal to Giants?!" he concluded in an aggressive bark. Again, with that black-and-white thinking, which my parents had always taught my brother and I against. Valhalla only knew what those warmongering Giant officers brainwashed him with during his service.

None of these concerns were anything I wanted to delve into with him in that car, however. I had missed my pal during his tour as a solider too much to risk our friendship on an argument over political correctness now. I chose my response carefully in my head, overthought it, and wound up with a sheepish reply. "I didn't say that... necessarily. Didn't necessarily not say that either." I shrugged. "Well, I don't know. I've met like three humans in my life, briefly. I didn't get to know any of them well enough to make a judgment."

"Vic, you can't be all indecisive about everything." Troy spoke in a firm, authoritative tone, which he undoubtedly absorbed in boot camp. "Listen man, look at history." He thumped the dashboard to punctuate. "Ever since those little human vermin discovered vortexes to our realm, they've been coming here in droves. Our natural resources are now-."

Rolling my eyes, I silenced my buddy with a dismissive hand. "Don't quote sensationalist politicians to me, T. I watch the news, follow current events. If it means that much to you, I'll come in." Disembarking the car alongside Troy, I looked at the green GRUDAT flag flying alongside the tavern's muscular Titan logo, on the flagpole. I sighed apprehensively. "But I'm not donating money to any cause in there and I won't participate in acts of... like human abuse or anything."

"Dude, no problem." Beeping his car locked, Troy led the way. "Like I said, this ain't a rally. Javelin Alehouse wouldn't allow that."

As it was an invite-only event, Troy vouched for me with the bouncer at the door. Big burly guy, even by Giant standards. He wore a V-neck and had the tight-fist GRUDAT mascot tattooed on his forearm. After he stamped our hands with that same symbol, Troy and I walked under the cigarette-scented awning, bypassing The Javelin's front door. Before entering, I eyed a sign under one of the neon beer ads. NO HUMANS. ONLY GIANTS ADMITTED. Somehow, I was skeptical of Troy's previous statement about what would be allowed there tonight. GRUDATs more than likely had connections with Javelin's management. Entering the bar, uneasily, I was reminded why I hadn't been comfortable telling Troy what my girlfriend Reagan did in her spare time. Reagan and Troy had just met two days before, when he got off the gangplank at the port. He knew Reagan was a nurse, but volunteering her medical services at the Human Shelter was not something my Colossus Army trained friend was ready to hear about.