Let’s rewind.

One moment, you’re in a dusty ruin in Delphi, brushing off an ancient urn, muttering to yourself about Ionic columns. The next, the sky goes dark and a fifty-foot redhead rips the roof off the dig site like she’s opening a can of Pringles.

“Oh no,” you mutter, barely looking up. “It’s Tuesday already?”

Giganta grins down at you like a giant, homicidal flight attendant. “Hi, nerd. You’re coming with me.”

You sigh. “Do I get a say?”

“Nope.” She pinches you between two fingers like an angry toddler grabbing a toy and shoves you into what can only be described as a purse the size of a dump truck.

Your next memory is flailing inside a pink handbag that smells suspiciously of cinnamon gum and regret.

When light finally returns, you’re zip-tied to a massive crystal chandelier, dangling like an awkward party decoration inside a partially-destroyed opera house. Giganta’s heels click-clack below, pacing, arms crossed.

"Why am I always the bait?” you shout. “Why not Steve? Or, I don’t know, literally anyone else not allergic to heights and humiliation?”

“Because you’re her favorite,” Giganta coos, not unkindly. “And nothing says ‘I’m gonna kill your BFF’ like gift-wrapping you above a marble floor.”

"Awesome. Can I get a snack while I dangle and contemplate my shattered bones?”

“No. But I did vacuum the chandelier for you.”

“Aw. You do care.”

She scowls, but you can see the tiniest blush. “Look, she’s going to burst in, try to save you, I smash her with a giant obelisk, and boom—hero soup. Classic villain plan. Very clean.”

“Obelisk smashing? Bold choice. Very 2007. But ... I advice you , Doris,” you says, “to put me down or you'll regret it !"

Giganta roars and grows another twenty feet. “You know what? Gladly.... After I turn you into a pancake!”

You flail. “Can someone PLEASE get me down before this turns into a Kaiju remake of Mamma Mia?!”

Maybe if you shout hard enough , someone will come .

Maybe .