Imogen Heap

Of all the celebrities out there, Jack Lord had a soft spot for one in particular. No, not Taylor Swift. Not Ariana Grande either. Not even Britney Spears. He wanted to go after someone all three worked with at one time or another: Imogen Heap.

The English singer-songwriter blurred the line of popular and obscure, always finding her work liked and respected but not always credited. She had two Grammies, plenty of memes, and a small portion of her hit song "Hide and Seek" used to catapult another artist by the name of Jason Derulo up to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 - without any credit to her.

This volatile mix of elements brought Imogen to Jack's attention, but it was the last of them that really got his interest burning. Something about taking such a quietly influential talent and spoiling it sounded like so much fun. And if he was finally going to venture out from fucking up his neighborhood to toying with celebrities, he could think of no one better to test the waters.

Tonight, she happened to be on tour - a rarity, as she often lamented not having the funds through number of ticket sales to justify them. A concern Jack would be alleviating her of very soon. With a snap of his finger, he teleported to her venue of the night.

Applause erupted from the audience. Just in time, as always. The smiling musician addressed the crowd.

"Thank you, thank you! If you enjoyed that song, you're going to love-"

"-Watching me put this bitch in her place." Jack interjected. His disruption caused murmurs, and a cross glance from Imogen, as he took to the stage. "Hi Immi. That's all you'll be called now, by the way. It's the right kind of vapid for what I have planned for you. Tell us, where do you find the inspiration for all your wonderful songs?"

Staring him dead in the eye, Imogen thought of telling the man off. Instead... "I don't. I'm a talentless hack coasting on the work of people who let me take all the credit."

Gasps erupted from the audience. Imogen herself looked equal parts bewildered and pissed. It was the sort of expression Jack loved as he had his way with his picks, and it took new life here. "I'm shocked, Immi. You've been in the business since 1997. If this is true, how did you get away with it all this time?"

"That's easy, I fucked the real artists. You have no idea how many I've banged and blown to get where I am today."

"Surely at least playing the music is the real deal?"

"Another lie. Everything is pre-recorded, and I've been using autotune since forever. My only real instrument is my slutty ass."

Unfortunately for Imogen, and fortunately for Jack (by his own making), countless people in the crowd were recording every damning second of this false confession. Soon, word and video would spread of how the celebrated and obscure woman before him whored her way into a career she didn't deserve. In no time at all, her prospects would dwindle from composing Harry Potter music and collaborating with top stars, to what he had in store for her.

"Immi, I think it's time we set things right. Let's start with you stepping away from the keytar. Only real musicians should touch it, not dumb skanks like you."

As Immi turned the keytar off, Jack cut the mic sound and gave her a moment to speak her real thoughts. They weren't any different from anything he heard many times in the past, but hearing them from her made it far sweeter. "You vile arse! None of that is true. How did you make me say those things? Why are you doing this to me?"

"You don't need to know how, and as for why, I want to see how far I can go in ruining your life before I leave you to live it far less than what you should be."