Grimmjow blinked under the harsh white light. The heat of it struck him at once and he raised a hand before his eyes, squinting to try to see its source but as he did the world above him rippled and wavered. The heat of the light faded and the blinding beam was scattered into a more bearable intensity. He blinked black spots from his vision until he could see clearly. When he looked up, however, the world was distorted. He caught his faint reflection and realized a large round pane of glass had been moved above him. It was thick and concave and left him staring at the world in a magnified, fishbowl effect.

"What the fuck?" He rubbed his head. He didn't remember much after searing pain in his chest and back and the white uniform of a Vandenreich. It had been a boy, or at least he had appeared that way. He was probably no more a child than the espada Luppi had been.

He didn't find any serious residual wounds, however, so what the hell had that kid done to him? And more importantly, who'd intervened in their fight?

He was still having a hard time placing where he was. The ground was smooth but didn't feel very sturdy. The walls were close, the same colour and texture and above him was the warped glass. He was starting to feel hot again, the light was still heating up his surroundings. He moved to one wall and pressed his hands against it. It was grainy and there was the slightest give beneath his hands. He pulled out Pantera, about to attempt a swing when the light above became blocked out and he spun on the defensive.

He didn't really comprehend what he saw. It was wide, and blinking, but nonsensical. It looked like an eye, covering the whole ceiling. Shit. The Vandenriech had him in some messed up laboratory probably, full of all sorts of creepy shit. If the ceiling turned into an eye, he didn't want to think what the rest of this room might do.

Then the ceiling suddenly rolled back. Cooler air rushed down on him, he crouched and kept his sword raised, preparing for whatever it was to come, but the whole room shook and he fell onto his shoulder. He rolled and came back up but the shaking only got worse and then the floor began to tilt. He faced planted and swore, dragging his nails into the surface until he stopped. He still bounced painfully up and down.

What the fuck kind of torture chamber had they thrown him into? The Hell he was gonna stick around and find out.

The shaking ended with one, final harsh vibration that shook him to his core. Then he heard a sonic boom. It sounded like a voice but the loudspeaker was far too high and pierced into his skull. He covered his ears under the shock of it.

Sound torture, shit. As a predator, he had sensitive ears. But the noise ended too and the moment he recovered he stood, took Pantera and swung at the wall.

To his complete surprise, his blade bit deep. He dragged it down the wall and pulled it back out again before hacking in a second time. It took just a few swings for enough of a hole to open for him to slip through.

The wall was layers of the same paper-thin material pressed together. Why would they ever make prison walls out of something like this? Had they forgotten he'd had his sword?

He couldn't turn back—even it was a trap, his only other option was to remain in their cage.

He got about four feet before he realized something was very wrong. The surface he moved onto was metal. It extended before him for several feet but then dropped off sharply on all sides. Beyond it, he saw towering instruments holding lights and massive blades, big enough to cut through Gillion. They must be experimenting on hollows of all types, he thought. It was the only explanation for why the ceiling and walls reached high up and the width of the room around him was extensive. It was like a football stadium, but full of strange tools and shelves of glass containers the size of swimming pools.

Then he turned and looked to his right and saw other furniture—more disturbing furniture. He saw a chair and a desk. What was disturbing about these two items was that they were the size of buildings. His theory about this being a place to house Gillion was out the window—the tall, mindless creatures would never have a need for such things and they were the only things he knew that would fit furniture so large.

Then what could be happening?

Some logical part of his brain was distantly making a connection the rest of him did not want to accept, but he didn't have time to fully process anything because suddenly the noise returned and despite the high volume that made him cringe, he distinctly made out the exclamation, "he's gone!"

Grimmjow turned. He saw his prison towering up above him. There were characters stamped on one side of it, massive, and as he considered it he realized it looked upsettingly like a cardboard box. Then his eyes traveled even higher and he saw probably one of the most frightening sights of his life.

Yellow teeth—so large they could cut him in half in one bite. Black and white bands of flesh on a massive, face. Eyes as big as his head or bigger stared back at him, and worse still, a hand that could easily crush him was coming his way.

He bolted. This was not a gillion. This was something he didn't recognize. A giant. Since when had such fairy tale things existed? He ran over the smooth metal surface, holding Pantera but not sure it would do him much good. He attempted to sonido but nothing happened. The cero he aimed backwards likewise failed to form in his hand. Was he powerless? Had he been that drained from the fight?

"Stop!" The cry made him stagger. He clutched his head and spun back. He'd come to the end of his road anyway and he didn't fancy jumping over the edge without spiritual pressure.

The hand was no longer coming for him. The giant crouch and stared at him, smiling. His eyes sparked with curiosity.

"My, my, this is fascinating." The voice still rattled him, but the giant was speaking softer now. "I can't imagine how it is for you."

Grimmjow stood his ground, not sure what to make of it. The giant bent lower and his hand went below the metal ground for a moment. When it came back up, it was holding there was a large glass jar, about four times as tall as Grimmjow.

He turned it over so the opening pointed downward and brought it in Grimmjow's direction.

"Shit." He realized what was happening just in time to dodge to the side. He rolled and the glass came down next to him. Vibrations ran through him. He stood and started to run but something white and fleshy suddenly appeared.

He ran straight into the massive hand, rolled back and the next thing his vision was blurred by the thickness of the glass that ensnared him.

"Fuck!" He slammed Panteria against it at once but his sword just bounced back. The giant appeared to be moving behind the glass, but Grimmjow couldn't quite see until something pushed against his feet. Crap, the giant was sliding something beneath him so he could lift him from the table. He tried to push back against the stiff sheet but he had to move his feet or have it get stuck. Then the jar tilted back and he had no choice but to tumble into its depth.

He smacked hard onto the glass bottom. His arm felt numb for a second before he could shake out the pain and gather himself again. But he was moving, the jar swinging through the air and all he could do was brace himself against the curved sides and try not to hurl.

Now there seemed to be two voices, bouncing of the glass walls, too distorted to make out. When things stilled, Grimmjow pressed closer and saw a second massive form, mostly white and pink. The glass shifted again and he was pretty sure he was being held close to one of the giant's faces as he peered in on him.

He backed away from that side of the glass, not having any other way to escape being looked upon like…well, whatever he was to them. A prisoner, an experiment…maybe a morsel. Then suddenly he was hurled back against that side of the glass, his face striking so hard he was sure his nose busted. He groaned and barely had a chance to realize the glass was being tilted again before he was falling.

A rush of air blew past him then he fell into white flesh tissue.

"Mayuri, be careful." He heard the booming voice above him but he didn't look up. He had Pantera out and he drove down deep into flesh.

The hand spasmed in an instinctual reaction. He probably should have checked how high up he was before he'd done that, because as the hand retracted, he toppled backwards and fell.

"FUCK!" He landed harshly back on the metal surface. Some part of him registered the brown cage far down the opposite end. But his head sank back against the metal as he took a breath to try to calm the firing nerves in his leg.

"Dammit." The curse dropped from above him, as did Pantera. Despite his pain, he lurched forward and grabbed the blade again, his only defence in his current state. "I told you to be careful. Retsu said his spiritual pressure was basically non-existent. In other words, no sonido. You could have killed him."

"He's an espada, he'll be fine."

"He's an espada that's six cm tall."

Grimmjow was still trying to decide if his leg was broken, but this caught his attention. He carefully rolled back so he could see the giants above.

This time, there was no glass distorting things and even though his mind still didn't want to accept it, he saw quite clearly the towering figures above him. The one he'd stabbed had a black and white face. The man next to him had curly brown hair and an eye patch.

Grimmjow recognized both of them at once. The one he'd stabbed was Soul Reaper Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi. He'd ended Szayel at Los Noches a couple of years ago. And the one next to him was the Head Captain himself, Shunsui Kyoraku—the man who'd killed the primo espada. Grimmjow had met both of them since, in the desert after the Vandenreich had attacked the Soul Reaper city. They'd attempted to capture him for information about the white coated bastards but he'd quite easily evaded them. Later they discovered he'd already divulged anything of worth to Urahara and left him be, though he'd occasionally crossed paths with different Soul Reapers throughout the war. One or two of them tried to bring him in, but he wasn't worth getting hurt or killed over while they faced an enemy that might enslave the whole universe.

"No fuckin' way," he breathed, nails scraping into the metal beneath him. This was not possible. That little imagining freak had—had—

"You've been shrunk." The words jarred him—and it didn't all have to do with the fact they were very loud. Kyoraku bent lower, or crouched, until his face was even with the table edge and he could see Grimmjow more clearly. His massive eyes shifted over him. Grimmjow knew him to be a calm, intelligent warrior, but that did nothing to put him at ease. He was completely at their mercy in this state, and if there was one thing he hated, it was someone else having power over of him.

"It was the Stern Ritter you were fighting. Do you remember that?"

Grimmjow nodded slowly, cleared his throat. "You mean that bastard imagined me this way." He spoke loudly, not sure how well he could be heard.

"Yes."

"Great. So what, he ain't dead?"

"No."

"Then where is he?"

"In captivity."

"What? Then fuckin' kill him and undo this!"

"We can't. There is no guarantee anything he changed will go back once he's dead."

"Bullshit!"

"Maybe, maybe not. But we can't do anything until we're sure. Others were hurt by his powers as well."

Grimmjow thought this over, but he knew what he would do. He wouldn't hesitate a second before killing the bastard. It's not like he'd willingly undo it anyway.

"Are you injured?"

His attention left the soul reaper and returned to his throbbing leg. He was quite sure the bone was intact but his knees was already swelled. He shifted his leg and winced, but forced himself back to his feet. He needed to know the extent of the damage so he could start planning his next move.

His knee refused to take his weight. He balanced on one leg after trying to put pressure on the other.

"He'll be fine." He heard the other soul reaper speak. "I'll make sure of it."

Grimmjow's stomach tightened. He looked up at their faces again as they decided his fate. He'd heard rumours about the strange scientist and he definitely did not want to be left in his care.

"Mayuri, he's not an experiment."

"But he is our prisoner, isn't he? I mean, his capture has been a standing order since the last Head Captain."

"Yes, it has."

"Then I don't see the problem."

"I do. No experiments. But I do want to know if you can come up with some way to reverse his condition. If you do, perhaps we could do the same for the others."

That still sounded a lot like experimentation to Grimmjow. Brown eyes swept over him one last time before Kurotsuchi agreed and the Head Captain left. Grimmjow instantly tried to make a run for it but that pale hand had him, closing around his middle with ease. He was lifted, the feeling sickening, to be held like a doll, or some other unfortunate plaything. He didn't flail or cry out though, it was pointless and he would conserve his dignity.

He took in every detail of the room as they travelled across it, searching for anything that might be of use to him. But it was in vain. He was truly and utterly helpless.

So this was an inspiration after the latest few chapters of the manga and a visit to Netflix where nostalgia struck when I saw "Honey I Shrunk the Kids." Of course a great fanfic idea was the result, lol. This is all I have on this story, I just wrote it one night on a whim, hope to get back to it at some point though I'm not sure just what kind of story it would be and how I could develop it. Let me know if you have any suggestions.

Also a huge thanks to you reviews so far in this collection. I'm already working on Redemption again after so many positive comments!

Riza