THUD. THUD. THUD. You find yourself trapped in the clutches of the enemy for the first time in quite a while. And this enemy(if you could even call her that) is not a rival spy, or a government operative, or a gang leader, or a a hitman hired by Gamell as far as you can tell. No, the adversary you have been captured by is an eight year old girl. And her dainty denim shorts' butt-pocket, which you find yourself trapped in, is a dark and cramped prison that smells of sweat and just a hint of gas. You find yourself shaken in every which way as your captor stomps forward, your little body rolling with the punches, so to speak, as she stomps through the school corridor in semi orderly fashion with the rest of her classmates.
You think back to the last time you've been in a situation even remotely like this. You were bound to a gurney, blindfolded, and surrounded by mercenaries masquerading as the staff at an asylum. Similar, perhaps, but nowhere near as humiliating. You are surrounded not by worthy foes, but by random detritus. In your pocket prison, you are accompanied in the pocket, by a rubber band, a paperclip, some dental floss, a coin, a trio of crushed skittles and a half-smeared ant twitching uselessly against the confines of the pocket.
You briefly consider trying to escape the girl, but quickly rule out the possibility. The tightness of the pocket and the fact that it is buttoned makes escaping unnoticed a difficult prospect. A punitive slap from the girl might just shatter your spine. And even if you did get out, you would be putting yourself even farther from your mission. Arriving in a hallway with only minimal cover, would be far more likely to get abducted by a passing kindergartener than make it back to Colleen's bookbag. The realization that you'd be easy pickings for the army of giant kids accompanying the school humbles you.
But what do you do instead? Why, you use the resources mission control has granted you. Play Dead Mode exists for a reason. You might be conditioned to resist interrogation, but nothing could beat the cover of being indistinguishable from a lifeless ragdoll. Confirming your commitment to the mission takes only three clicks of your tongue. The paralytic agent gets to you before you can begin to re-evaluate your decision.
With your body now thoroughly paralyzed and trapped in the girl's back pocket, she now has absolutely no opposition to fulfilling her goal. You essentially allow her to 'take 20,' if one will, and freely bring you to the playground for inspection.
THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.
The sounds of chirps and distant traffic soon join the chaotic chitchat of the giant children. The girl's movements suddenly grow more frantic as she makes her way to the playroom, the regimented restrictions of indoor walking now finally lifted. Your body is jostled even more haphazardly before, and you wind up falling onto your side, unable to stabilize yourself thanks to your self-induced paralysis. A few moments more, and the girl's motions slow to a near halt. The girl presses her palm against her pocket to confirm your presence, then begins to unbutton the denim prison. Soon enough light descends into your cell, and the silhouette of her fingers soon follows.
The girl's fingers mash hard around your chest, her rough handling making her grip more like a pair of body blows followed by a nauseating jolt of motion than a simple grab . The girl brings you up before her face, looking at you with a smug, self-sure grin. Between her young proportions and silly, cheap pink shades, and girly blond hair she looks nothing like any interrogator you've ever faced. "Wakey wakey little sneaky doll guy. What are? Are you a fairy? Are you a robot? Did you shrink yourself? Did someone shrink you?" She asks, poking you with every theory she floats.
You cannot respond.
The girl grimaces at your total lack of response, tightening her grip on you to the point where you feel like your ribs might cave in under her hand's oppressive grip. "I saw you move. Stop make believing you're a doll. Just cuz I'm a kid doesn't mean I'm stupid." She says. Your body is in a world of pain already, and the questioning has only just begun. As the young blonde gazes at you with scrutiny, you can be sure that you would have probably not been able to feign death without paralyzing yourself... but you also begin to wonder if playing dead was really such a good idea to begin with.
Realizing squeezing won't work, the girl opens up her hand and begins to speak up. "Come on little guy. This isn't funny. I caught you fair and square. And I saw you move. Why won't you talk to me? Ugh. " She rolls her eyes before gripping by your ankle and dangling you upside down, your arms flopping awkwardly beneath your head. The girl then flips you over and grips onto your string, playfully poking at your body, making you twirl around beneath her grip. You manage to maintain your composure as you spin, and you get a good look at your whereabouts.
The girl has sequestered herself beside a tree at the playground, and you notice that Miss Hensley is nowhere in sight. Not being trained to look after children, your handler likely isn't even bothering to check for this kid's whereabouts. And even if she does check up on the kid, you suspect she might not have the wherewithal to realize that the 'doll' the girl is playing with is in fact her little spy, who is currently in quite a predicament! As the girl wiggles her fingers to shake your body this way and that, you start to regret committing yourself to pretending to be a doll.
"Ugh. maybe you are just a doll." The girl mutters to herself before reaching down and sitting you down on the ground, with your back resting against the tree. You find yourself at eye level with a pair of pink and white sneakers, the girl's short black socks and her towering peach-colored legs ascending out of the shoes. The girl lifts her leg before slamming a sneakered foot down with a mighty KTHOOOOM just a few inches away from you.
It is at this moment that you feel really and truly out of your league. You're cut off from the powerful infrastructure of your spy organization, who at best only know a uselessly broad hint as to your geolocation. You have no weapons. No ability to even move. Three inches tall. For all practical purposes you are a doll before this godlike child whose footsteps sound of thunder and whose hands hold the ability to break your body in one bout of childish curiosity. You begin to badly wish you could move, but even something as simple as lifting a finger is impossible to you at the moment.
You forget about Gamell. You forget about the agency. These are distant things. Power brokers and political entities that one as small and weak as you need not concern yourself with. At least for the time being. For the time being, your thoughts are completely dominated by the existential threat this kid poses to you. And it isn't just her. Distant giants can be heard from across the playground. It is a world of gigantic gods, and the ones most likely to pay you any heed are children. And as hopelessly outmatched by this giant girl as you are, you realize that there's a significant chance that you might be swept into a world where these otherwise unassuming kids have become the powers-that-be, at least to you.
Petrified and helpless, you are left to contemplate how you will approach things once your roughly half hour of dollification is up. If you'll even survive that long.
"Hmm...I wonder..." the young giant ponders. She sits down and curls her legs together then reaches for you and holds your body in her grip, resting her hand atop her sneaker. She looks down at you with a half grin, lost in thought about how to handle the situation. Your future is in her hands.
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