“Cut me out, will they?” Colette thought to herself, her teeth grinding as she paced around her room. Call ME temperamental, will they? What do they know about my temperament? As if I did anything that warranted getting replaced!” 

Before her silent frustration set in, Colette Smirnov had dedicated weeks —WEEKS— to preparing for a photo shoot promoting the latest trendy fashion line on the market. The collection featured a range of flashy jackets, skirts, sweaters, and more, none of which aligned with her own personal taste. The paycheck, however, was certainly appealing, and in her modeling career, Colette has tackled less exciting jobs for far less compensation. Such was the reality of being an icon of her caliber.

And yet, despite Colette’s absolute generosity in helping some brand that was more an art show than it was an actual ensemble of wearable attire, those who had hired her still decided to cut her out of the entire shoot when she gave them just a smidge of pushback. 

A simple spat with the fashion line’s lead Designer, nothing more. 

“Bastard,” Colette seethed, her teeth grinding at the memory of her storming out of her dressing room, done with such imbeciles. “Bastards, all of them. It’s not my fault they can’t take a little bit of criticism.”

Colette had spent years in the fashion industry, enough to develop a keen eye for when certain colors clashed with specific garments. Toward the end of her latest photo shoot, she noticed several mismatches that she felt compelled to address. When she voiced her concerns to the lead designer, however, she was met with the defensive outburst of a man who couldn’t take a hint. 

The lead designer launched into a tirade filled with insults, questioning her understanding of the artistic process and insisting that someone as attractive as her should simply follow direction. His remarks struck a nerve and only fueled her frustration.

Typically, maintaining professionalism is crucial for a successful career, and most people would know better than to engage in conflicts at work. However, Colette found herself drawn into an escalating confrontation with the designer. Their heated exchange lasted for about an hour, ultimately resulting in her dismissal.

Though "fired" hardly captured the reality of the situation. 

It felt more like Colette was being forcibly removed from the building, especially after she almost jabbed the designer in the face with the stiletto heel of her shoe.

Now, here Colette was, pacing around her high-rise penthouse, waiting for either an apology from those in charge of the shoot or—more likely—an assault charge. 

It wouldn’t have been the first she’s ever received… 

“I should’ve just gone for the makeup shoot instead. Those always pay well.” 

Despite everything clearly being the designer’s fault, Colette couldn’t help but lament the fact that she was being denied what would have been a substantial paycheck. And, to make matters worse, Colette had a sinking feeling that she was going to be replaced. Not just in this shoot, that much was obvious, but in future ones as well. Word spreads fast in the modeling industry, after all, and if she wasn’t careful, it’d be her career on line.  

Likely, Colette would get overshadowed by someone younger and more compliant than herself, willing to accept even the most ridiculous requests. A novice in the modeling business, surely, but it was always the newcomers who were the most willing, and thus the biggest threats. 

This entire situation was insulting. Frustrated and overwhelmed, Colette struggled to see how her employers failed to understand how this impacted the modeling industry… or her reputation.

“God, this is not going to look good on my record,” Colette muttered, silent anger bubbling beneath the surface.

Some directors had already considered cutting her from their projects, Collete’s personality often being regarded as “unfavorable”. If word of this got out, it could spell disaster for her career, leading to a significant decline in work. Were that to happen, she could kiss her years of effort goodbye…

“Shit…” 

Rather than lament on that, however, Colette, instead, chose not to muse on such a horrible thought. This wasn’t the first pickle she’s been in, and odds are it wouldn’t be the last. So, as the Model worked her fingers through her frazzled hair, straightening it out, she decided this was just something she had to take care of. Just as she’s done with other issues in the past.

Getting her hands dirty was just another sacrifice of the business.

“I need a drink…” 

As Colette made her way to the penthouse kitchen, seeking a bit of liquid courage to calm her nerves, she opened the fridge in search of a cool can of beer. 

Suddenly, a loud THUD echoed against her countertop, jolting her attention.

Startled, Colette slammed the fridge door shut, spinning around to confront the unexpected noise.

But there was nothing. 

The kitchen appeared untouched. No fallen dishware, no errant shadows moving in the darkened corners. A sense of unease crept over Colette as she took a cautious step forward. Just as she began to relax, something caught her eye—a box, partially hidden in the shadows.

A simple, cardboard container, no bigger or thicker than her entire hand, fingers and all, sitting secured on top of her counter. 

Colette held her breath as she drew in closer, quickly finding a note stuck to the lid. Carefully, she peeled it off, reading what looked to be a message left for her. 

“I noticed you were going through some trouble at work. Decided to be nice and take care of that for you. No need to thank me, I know, I’m great. Hugs and kisses.”

— C.

Colette felt the corner of her lips curl into a soft, almost child-like smile. 

She traced her fingers across the note softly, already aware of who had sent it. 

She chuckled to herself, surprised that she was allowed this sort of fortune, considering she and the gift’s sender weren’t in a relationship. That was a luxury for their shared star.  

Still, Colette wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and say no. She knew an advantage when she saw one. 

And given how, in no short measure of time, a series of soft, barely audible whimpers began to emanate from within the box, she just knew she was going to have fun with this. 

Maybe her hands wouldn’t get so dirty after all? 

*****

It was dark… and stuffy… and no matter what direction Vincent Valcove tried to move, he always found himself bumping into someone else. Who they were, or where they were all being held, he didn’t know, and, in truth, he didn’t care. All that rested at the forefront of the renowned Designer’s thoughts was finding out who would dare do this to him. 

Vincent stumbled in the dark, hands stretched out in front of him to get a sense of his surroundings, but no matter where he walked, there was nothing but blackened space. Occasionally, he would come against a large wall and would run his hands along its surface, getting a feel for what it was, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint the material. It was certainly familiar, but just different enough that he wasn’t entirely sure. 

This happened about four times total, allowing Vincent to conclude that there were at least four different walls. The space around him was square. That much he managed to figure out. That and the area he occupied proved to be woefully empty. 

He heard whimpering and whispering, no doubt coming from those who were also trapped. Vincent gritted his teeth, frustration causing a vein to pop up just above his brows. 

“Quit that sniffling, already!” the Designer barked. “If you’re not going to help, then at least be quiet!”

Alas, despite his command, the whimpering didn’t stop. If anything, whoever was crying only doubled down, despair gripping them in this unfamiliar, suffocating situation. 

Vincent groaned. He stretched out his hands again, looking for some sort of exit. He didn’t have time for this. 

“I suppose I’ll just have to do this MYSELF then! When I get out of this, there’ll be hell to pay, I can promise you that!” 

Still, even as he boasted and proclaimed revenge, there was a staggering reality Vincent was continuing to ignore. He hadn’t the faintest idea of where he was, nor did he have any real plans of escape. All he could do was bark and promise retribution—twin actions that often worked out for him. 

As things presently stood, however, the renowned and usually respected Designer was steadily coming to a realization. There was nowhere to go. No place to escape to, and worse of all, no one to blame. Sure, Vincent could yell at those who surrounded him, faceless and obscure though they may be, but that wouldn’t help any of them. 

Certainly would make him feel better, though… especially after the day he’s had with an insufferable model. 

As Vincent continued in his search, he felt his hand brush up against something new. Something large and metallic, with the occasional bit of… plastic? 

“What the hell…” 

Vincent continued examining this new object, straining his eyes so that they might adjust and see more clearly in the dark. Though it was faint, obscenely so in the near pitch-black environment, he could just barely make out an outline. 

“Is that a… boulder? Some kind of rock?”

The thing was huge. Impossible to push away. 

And what was more, there was something on top of it. 

On closer inspection, Vincent found that what was on top of the ‘boulder’ was, in fact, paper. And a rather larger piece of it, at that. 

The more the Designer searched, the more confused he became. 

Just where the hell WAS he?

“Any one of you, help me with this!” Vincent shouted. He didn’t even bother asking anyone their names. “Maybe one of you can figure out what this thing is!”

It took some time, as well as several forced coughs, before anyone actually heeded Vincent’s commands. Whether they were all ignorant, or the situation was too much for them to bear, he couldn’t care less. The fact that everyone was moving so slowly was already aggravating enough. Coupled together with the continued whimpering of those who had already given up, and already, Vincent was reaching the limits of his patience. 

“And for the love of God, will you stop CRYING! If that’s all it took to get out, we might have all been home by now!”

As one could expect when shouting at another in such a situation, all Vincent’s barking amounted to was the whimpering growing louder, escalating into full-blown sobs. 

Now Vincent could tell it was a woman making the most noise. More than that, he knew where they were—seated in the corner, near one of the walls he had inspected. 

He was just about ready to storm the unseen woman’s way and give her a piece of his mind before, suddenly, the world around them shook. 

More than that, actually, it’s like everything just rose, gravity becoming a very real threat as the floor beneath them all came crashing upward, forcing everyone down. Vincent fell to his knees, able to catch himself, but he suspected that not everyone was as lucky or as quick as he was. 

The woman who had been crying, for example, sounded as though she had been forced on her stomach, the air all but leaving her voice as she grunted in sudden, verbal pain. 

Just as suddenly as it began, the unexpected g-force dissipated, leaving the world still once more. A profound silence enveloped the air, as not a single soul dared to utter a word.

Moments after the sensation faded, light flooded the room as the ‘roof’ above split open. 

It parted in two, allowing the brilliant world beyond to spill in, momentarily blinding those who dared to gaze upwards. For those who averted their eyes, however, clarity returned, revealing their surroundings more vividly. What had initially seemed like an unyielding boulder turned out to be nothing more than a colossal flip phone.

The walls, once perceived as solid barriers, were merely cardboard, flimsy, and insubstantial.

The expressions on the faces of those who had been shrouded in darkness were a mix of astonishment and recognition. 

Yet, despite the revelations unfolding before them, nothing could quite compare to the imposing figure looming in the sky. 

A smiling, gargantuan visage that beamed as brightly as the sun cast a shadow that none could escape from. 

Through brilliant, teal eyes, the face above scanned the room below, and a gale of mint-laced wind washed over all those unfortunate enough to be caught in this inescapable grasp. 

A booming chuckle shook Vincent’s bones, and he watched as threads of golden locks drifted past the face in the sky. 

He recognized the person above. He recalled the argument he had with them, as well as the final words uttered when they left his studio—cold insults meant to wound. 

A cold sweat traveled down the back of his neck. 

“C… Colette!?!”

*****

“Oh, wooow…” Colette cooed, her delight rising by the second. Her lips pursed and became unwieldy as she failed to maintain a straight face, and by extension, her composure. “I mean…. Wooow… she really went and did it…” 

She wasn't dreaming, nor had Collette reached a point of frustration where she had begun to hallucinate. In front of her, really, was a set of shrunken humans. Five in total, and all strikingly familiar. 

Colette snickered softly. 

“I mean… she actually did it… for me! And we aren't even dating! 

Colette was beside herself. This felt too good to be true. 

Drumming her fingers against the exterior of the cardboard box, it wasn't until the towering model noticed the flip phone and note within that her joy was tempered ever so slightly, her interest piqued. 

Not even affording the shrunken victims a word of reassurance, Colette reached into the box, picked up the phone, and took the note. To the box's further edge, huddled into a corner, one of the few women present cried out in shock and terror, the sight of tree-sized fingers coming down proving more than enough to have them try and push themselves further back against the wall. A comical effort, and the sort that only served to inspire a stifled giggle from Colette further. 

Taking the two objects out of the box, Colette was quick to notice that, on the side of the phone, a thick splotch of red sullied its gray surface. 

Blood… and a surprising amount of it. 

With a single brow raised more in curiosity than concern, Colette looked through the shrunken crowd, and soon found that one of them—a man—was motionless, lying flat on their belly… a pool of crimson leaking from their split head. 

Colette sucked in air through her teeth. 

“Shit…”

There was no doubt about their condition. The shrunken man was dead, and if Colette were to gather a guess on what exactly happened, she'd surmise that the poor bastard’s head crashed against the side of the phone the moment she picked up the box. At the speed everything was moving… There was no chance they would have walked away from that with anything other than a serious injury, even if they lived. 

“Someone's not gonna be happy about that…” Colette remarked, her voice barely a whisper. 

The fault was hers, of course. She was more than willing to own up to that. Having been unaware of the contents, she failed to control her own strength. 

Still, it was nothing to concern herself over. These were her gifts, after all, and it wasn’t as though anyone would come looking for them. 

With a shrug, Colette drew her attention back to the phone and note, the latter containing another message just for her.

As she read the note, her expression became inscrutable to those below her. The more Colette read, however, the more her expression changed, and it wasn’t long before her eyes widened, and a deep blush crept across her cheeks.

“Wait… she wants me to do what…?!”

Colette quickly read through the note again, ensuring she hadn’t misunderstood. Her gaze then shifted to the phone in her hand, intensifying her blush.

“She can’t be serious…”

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Colette set the box down on the ground. She opened the phone provided to her, discovering only one number to call.

An involuntary gulp caught in her throat as she realized her nervousness. Why wouldn’t she be nervous?

Perhaps, had she known the price being asked of her for this favor, she wouldn't have been so excited. 

That said… she was too far in now to back out. Someone was already dead, and if Colette’s benefactor's note was anything to go by, she still had a debt to pay. 

So, with a sigh, Colette steeled her nerves and dialed in the number. 

She waited, drumming her fingers across crossed arms. 

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Click.

A muffled yet excited voice spoke from the other end of the call. What was said and who was speaking was unknown to those left at Colette’s mercy. To the model herself, she was at the forefront of the exchange. 

“Yes, I got your note. Pervert! Had I known that was going on, I would have taken care of things myself. Hell, I had already planned on doing that!” 

Another few moments of silence passed as Colette’s benefactor replied. All the while, the model's lips curled into a snarl. 

“No, I suppose you're not being too unreasonable,” Colette replied to some retort unheard, her voice somewhat on edge as she listened to her benefactor’s reasoning. “We've already seen each other naked. But do you really want… that? Wouldn't you much rather have something more traditional? A lamb's head? Or a fresh heart? You seem the type to like those!” 

There was a laugh on the other end of the call. Loud enough that those below could hear it.

It was a woman's voice. 

Above, Colette scoffed, insulted. 

“I am not a second-rate cultist! You’re just… twisted enough that I’m certain you’d prefer a blood sacrifice! Can’t blame me for assuming!” 

Further silence followed as Colette began to pace around the room. Occasionally, she’d glance down at the box by her feet before returning her attention to her call. Unbeknownst to them, though, being so close to such small beings meant that those within the confines of their cardboard prison could feel each footfall as it came to pass, a sudden, violent quake shaking their entire world. Without the phone and note left behind, their prison had increased in available space, and yet, despite the additional leg room, none thought it wise to move. Not with the freshly-dead body left in the center, a pool of crimson still present and wet. Only now was all that blood beginning to dry, seeping into the cardboard floor, but that did little to ease anyone’s concerns. 

Up above, as she glanced down at them, Colette felt herself smile again. 

Even as words were exchanged back and forth between her and her benefactor, and she very much made her discomfort towards her payment known, she couldn’t deny the exhilarating sensations felt within her heart each time she eyed down her little pests. 

Even just walking past them was enough to fill her with such wonderful questions and ideas. 

How big did she come across as to them? Was she even moving at a regular pace to those so small, or were her movements slowed down? 

Did they think she’d step into their box at any given moment and snuff them all out underfoot? 

Did Colette even want to try that?

It’d end things far too quickly, but… perhaps quicker was better in this instance? There’d be less for her to deal with then. 

So many questions, and so many possibilities, and they all raced through Colette’s head. 

One thought, however, stood out among the rest. A way to meet in the middle with her unseen benefactor’s peculiar request. 

“Actually…” Colette began, waiting for the chance to speak, as well as making sure her victims could hear her, too. “Why send you a recording when you can already see everything? It’s not as though you’ll forget a body like mine anytime soon.~”

Silence. Intrigue. Judging by how Colette’s expression of joy never fell, one could imagine her benefactor’s curiosity was piqued. 

“Ohh, nothing major,” the model replied, responding to a question that, again, went unheard. “I was just thinking that you could stay on call with me. It’d be a lot more fun than some dumb old video. A private showing, juuust for yooou~.” 

With a chuckle, Colette knelt, extending a hand into her box of gifts. She watched as those barely any larger than her pinky scattered, pushing themselves against the box’s furthermost edges. But they weren’t the focus of her attention. Instead, Colette simply grabbed the limp body of the man who had been killed via phone and lifted him away. She brought the body close to her face, making sure that whoever was on the other end of the call could hear everything. 

“I am expecting some form of payment, though,” Colette admitted, no doubt to her benefactor’s surprise. “I mean, you did provide me with so many wonderful things for the night, and I do appreciate that… but you’ve already got a girlfriend. What would our favorite little Star think if she knew you called me~?” 

Colette’s smile never dropped, even as her benefactor, no doubt, tried to argue against that logic; a sudden exclamation rising from the other end of the call. 

Rather than feel fear, Colette’s grin grew, and as it did, the model rolled the body of the man whose name she didn’t even know between her fingers, mangling it. She felt as arms were twisted out of shape and watched as their torso was nearly bent in two. Legs were snapped in half, and the body’s head was damn near pressed down into its chest. All the while, Colette smiled, fully aware that this was being seen. 

Not just by those down below, but also the woman on the phone who had so suddenly lost their voice. 

“I take it you’re watching?” Colette asked with a knowing grin. “Can I assume you’re interested now~?” 

For several unreal seconds, nothing was said. Those stuck in the box were forced to look up, towards the sky, terrified by whatever answer might come. 

Colette saw this. 

She relished this. 

And on seeing her captives’ terror-stricken faces, Colette waved their way, her smile softening to almost graceful levels before sticking her tongue out past her lips, taunting them all. 

Eventually, her eyes lit up as she received her benefactor's answer.

In one swift motion, Colette’s fingers came together, and the body she had twisted beyond all recognition splattered, exploding with such force that the tips of her fingers, as well as a good portion of her palm, were stained. A few splotches of red even managed to mark her face, yet that sudden disturbance was hardly acknowledged, let alone cared for.

It was just the prelude to the night. 

“I knew you’d come around to the idea~.”