She was meant to be split. Instead, she grew. A young woman wakes up on a cold metal table in a sterile laboratory, her memories fragmented. A chip was implanted in her brain — a prototype designed to divide consciousness, to separate emotion from function, self from self. But something went wrong. Instead of splitting, she began to grow. Her body expanded uncontrollably, bursting through the lab ceiling. She found herself in an office floor, surrounded by panicked employees no larger than her hand. Then the lobby. Then the rooftop. She was terrified at first — begging the tiny people for help as helicopters circled overhead. But fear gave way to curiosity. Then amusement. Why run, when she could play Now towering over the city, she turns chaos into a game — toying with buildings, swatting at helicopters, and playfully tormenting the people who tried to control her. She was built to be contained. Now she can’t be stopped.