Photographs can be the most captivating sight for the eyes. Colors cascade against backgrounds, with people posing as professionals collaborating to craft masterpieces.

They capture scenes of lakes, rivers, or perhaps a snow-capped mountain. These vibrant, contrasting colors delight the eyes and transport the mind to a state of joy.

The gloss of smooth surfaces, the magnified detail of fruits, and the stunning close-ups of wild animals.

These images stir a battle within everyone, a clash between curiosity and excitement.

The intricacies.

Click.

The camera shutter sounds.

Flash

The glare of a warning to maintain that pose or risk ruining it completely.

The moment is captured within a pixelated domain, concealed behind closed doors. It remains eternally suspended in time, like a treasure that has sunk into the abyss.

Reminiscence begins when questions about the events are asked, and those who were there share their stories. It is the components within a photograph that evoke lasting memories.

This is Averi Raemore's conviction.

His delicate fingers trace the cover of a magazine, which displays a modest image against a backdrop of foliage. His mind is filled with thoughts of the novice model who will shortly be immortalized by his camera.

This model, the subject of much talk. Many female photographers have remarked on his striking looks. He's supposedly tall and handsome. The epitome of what a young man should look like according to the most successful models in this industry. Though all come in many colors, with the right touch of honey-kissed skin some males and females are compared to gold. Simply put the more the skin glows the more money these industries make.

His ability to illuminate a room with his commanding presence is what a lot of critics have said. The vision of his impeccable form moving smoothly from one pose to the next.

Bold red eyes hold a ravenous look that seems daringly enticing and dangerously alluring. He peers through the lens of the photographer, a formidable young man.

The model comes with high recommendations, and the company has chosen to hire him. Although it's only been a few weeks, he has already collaborated with almost every photographer in the building, leaving all unable to satisfy his desire.

Thus, a directive from the CEO has arrived.

A comprehensive message assigning sole responsibility for the model to Averi. If he does not succeed, his reputation will be at stake.

Is he intimidated? Not at all.

He is simply overwhelmed, managing nearly one hundred and fifty models. If the CEO doesn't assign them to him, many models seek out Averi on their own. He has declined as many applications as he has accepted. This enables his endorsement of other professionals, securing clients for all.

His fingers release the magazine, his attention captured by the name of the emerging star, written in cursive in the margin.

They are eager to promote the novice.

A career on the brink of stardom. The younger they are, the more vigorously they strive for the summit.

Devil's Playground.

Quite the peculiar name, isn't it?

It's the moniker of the compact level housing these elite photographers. Just fifteen rooms, each adorned with a golden nameplate. Behind each door, individuals with renowned skills and acclaim are at work.

Averi was located at the last room on the floor as if the models had to walk the hall and battle the others until facing someone who brought out the best in everyone he came across.

That golden ticket.

He tossed the magazine to one side; it slid from the small worn-out desk before falling off the edge and meeting disposal in a nearby trash can.

Averi sighed, pushing his slender frame from the uncomfortable seat before he stretched his back. Arms up high, legs spread, a small groan came to capture the silence-- a ticking clock.

He navigated around the desk, palm outstretched to cradle his beloved camera. It rested atop a pile of papers, never directly on any surface without a cushion beneath. An antique model, possibly the oldest among the collection, yet meticulously maintained, he cherished this prized possession, affectionately named Glory.

Glory had been with him since the start of his career, through moments of profound shame. He had never abandoned this camera; when advised to purchase something less demanding, Avery refused. Glory was consistently sent for polishing, updates, and renewal. It seemed Avery had invested not just money, but also his soul into this device.

He dared not to touch another.

A lift and the ban rested around his neck as the camera dangled just before his chest.

He reached out to touch the gold knob, turned, and the cool air of the blaring air conditioner met him with glee. Across the hall right in front of him was a competitive photographer known as Ms. Kim.

A short Asian woman with a fierce attitude. She battled the others because, like many in this profession, they all had to spread their names. The more successful clients rose, the better.

Ms. Kim took in more clients than she could juggle, but the faces that came out smiling... remained enough to set the hall on fire.

Averi danced to his left, a fake plant nearly blocking his vision with its long dusty branches before he stopped suddenly to whip around it. He often forgets that the plant is still here, as large as ever.

Sometimes he'd mistaken it as a real one because it seemed like it was growing.

He continued in stride, his scuffing shoes buried the crud and mud further into the carpet.

If one were curious about the reason famous photographers were housed in such dilapidated and filthy buildings, it was a reflection of their era—an era marked by struggle, regardless of one's past status. While money remained a crucial axis for the world to turn, many trades such as carpentry, cleaning, building inspections, and renovations began to charge exorbitant rates. This was due to building owners neglecting their properties to the point of near uninhabitability. Following widespread panic about a faltering economy, many chose to compromise their workplaces, confident they could still secure and retain money. Consequently, building codes were disregarded by the government, paving the way for societal greed. Accumulating wealth became the ultimate aim, even if everything else was on the brink of ruin. The solution was simply to move to another decrepit location to continue operations.

Averi stopped once he came to the large, shade-less window to his left. The streetlights looked like spilled exploding colors hidden within raindrops that stained the glass.

It was almost always raining here. Gloomy and nighttime. They blamed that on the years of destroying the ozone. Global warming was real after all.

The air quality wasn't so good, and many people were getting sick with lung diseases. Many babies were born who were the least bit healthy.

Averi had been one of them.

Drawing his camera to his left eye, he stared at the image before him.

The rain had damaged the windowsill, leaving watermarked brown stains. No amount of paint would cover them as they dripped down to the carpet.

In the wintertime, this hall grew cold. Blame that window.

Averi's finger slipped just above a few buttons, adjusting his zoom, his other eye completely closed.

Only when he was ready did he,

"Your client is ready."

He halted, startled. Pulling the camera from his face and turning a questionable gaze towards the older woman-- Ms. Kim to be exact.

Indeed, she couldn't even garner affection for the newcomer model. Just last week, the newcomer submitted a change request. Ms. Kim was his previous photographer and had become quite bitter about it, even cautioning Averi several times about the newcomer's immaturity. However, this did not deter Averi's ambition to handle such a challenging individual. He had experienced the fits of child models, spoiled youngsters who would only cooperate if bribed with sweets. They understood the dynamics, and the adults indulged them. What was the key to such outcomes? The younger children received their desires, but the older ones who could articulate their wants... well, let's just say Averi was no paternal figure.

Avery could feel the scorn in her voice. Her eyes looked up at him with envy. Was it because she knew of his power, or did she hate that he might win?

"I'm aware, Ms. Kim. Thank you," Averi spoke lightly. His camera was still clenched in his hands.

This middle-aged hag had ruined the moment for him. The beautiful ugly he was about to capture. She knew it but seeing as though this window had always been here, the moment felt like it wouldn't.

She didn't leave, only watching him as if to say then get going. Averi did just that, turning to roll his eyes in a direction she couldn't see. She was antsy for him to meet the newcomer. Antsy to see if Averi could handle him. More anticipation on Averi encountering someone that he couldn't conquer. That would be the day this establishment fell to the ground.

The new model had garnered a reputation for being difficult, often clashing with photographers and expressing dissatisfaction with many of his shots. The planning team's failure to secure proper props didn't help matters. He despised certain settings and the ridiculous tasks sometimes required of him, though this was not directly their fault. His management seemed to book him for any available job. When an opportunity arose to pose as a lollipop affixed to a wall, they accepted without hesitation. The reason was clear: they were desperate for any work that might catapult his reputation. All it would take was for one person to recognize the newcomer's elegance.

Ms. Kim silently followed along Averi, until the two came to a complete stop at a door just shy of the elevator.

Averi inhaled deeply, pressed at the knob lacking a swinging door, and stepped through, never minding to invite Ms. Kim.

The room was a beautiful small area, where many of the planners/managers would appear to set up their clients for small shoots. Anything that wasn't too extravagant could be done here in the office.

The large cameras surround the white screen and the expensive small stool is set in the middle. The walls were painted white as well, with spotlights pointing at center stage. A booth to capture exact lighting and colors only a few feet away. In the side corner were the green screens. That was where some of the more beautiful shots were taken. Averi loved that area the most. He could take a simple corner and turn it into a castle. A woman, and deemed her a mermaid or a kid and placed them in a field of meadows. Spectacular.

A small studio.

It was advised that Averi doesn't meet the model in his office and that the two get more comfortable in a place where they feel most at ease.

Not only that but the new model was being prepped for a collab at another office. This project was already started by another photographer in another location, so Averi would not be going along. He planned to sit back and see what the outcome would be. Seems everyone would take a hack at the newbie. That or his managers were desperate to accept anyone willing to deal with him. Good thing they didn't have to look any further.

He turned to his left, and made way toward a woman with her back to them both, before he reached out, touched her shoulder, and spoke calmly.

"Hey, I'm here to meet the newbie."

He leaned into her shoulder politely.

She would gasp, as she was focused on the individual seated in front of her, hair curlers in hand. Nearly spinning around and forcing the deadly object into Averi's face, he was saved by her sudden composure. Without much fuss, but cheeks lightly pink in hue, the young woman stepped aside.

There, eyes flashing almost instantly his way, the new model,

"Harah--" Avery tried to speak, but he was cut off by the male in the seat.

"Harah Silverstone."

The newbie decided to introduce himself. A sly tongue filled with an impatient undertone.

Harah allowed his eyes to venture up and down Averi, making a few mental notes.

One of his arms rested upon the arm of the chair, fingers pressed into his cheek to hold up his head.

He seemed to not be in the mood.

Wait... It was just a bad attitude.

"Once your makeup is done, Mr. Silverstone. Please come to center stage. Without any props I want you to stand on the tapped black X. I'll get some regular shots with the white backdrop of you. See if we can capture your good side, clear?" It felt like explaining everything to a child. Though throughout his small directional speech, Harah was staring at him intensely, Averi couldn't tell whether the newbie was looking through him or at him.

Averi cleared his throat, turned on his heels, and made way to his spot on the floor. He didn't look for an answer, as Harah's lips started to part before he left. He didn't even care to wonder what he had to say. Averi was in business mode. Nothing else mattered.

So, that was Harah. First impressions and he'd have to say the young man wasn't as bad as everyone paints him to be. Averi could easily ignore and not take offense to the small antics. Just like many other humans who have graced his path, Harah was as stunning as they said him to be. Averi didn't want to stare too long as his eyes would soon be painted on Harah through the lens. He'd have a stronger opinion after a few shots.

Wiping Grace's lense, it wasn't until the patter of Harah's feet alerted him that he was approaching the X. Amazing how an individual as tall as Harah wasn't really making any sound as he stepped across the floor.

"Just do as you please, Mr. Silverstone." Averi raised his camera. 

Harah wore a black combat vest to today's shoot. Underneath was a tight long-sleeved turtle neck. One hand was gloved with the fingers out. His pants were black cargo's but they were fitted to his frame, insinuating his slender legs. Black calf-high leather boots and of course a black cap. He seemed to be going in for some police training. At least something close to a wannabe. It was amazing that Harah's choice of clothing could easily spark a trend depending on the audience these photo's reached. Everyone had Facebook and Instagram. He wore no jewelry which was surprising.

Harah places both hands in his pocket, locking onto the lense of Averi's camera. He stiffens his posture, broading his shoulders and giving Averi a very dangerous glare. His blood red eyes fixated as ruby jewels.

Averi take a shot and then another, moving closer to Harah for a more in-depth face take. He presses Glory again and again as Harah changes poses, but as the posing goes on, Averi begins dive into a trance of his own. The two are now locked in a battle. Fiercely competing with one another as they try to find the space between good and best. The dance goes on for what seemed like forever. Averi's professionalism deeming him top dog, his stances radiating with stature and know it all as Harah's movements were more fluent.

"Averi!" A sudden voice draws him from his daunting trance. He whips around at the frantic voice, locking eyes with the woman that called him. Her high pitched annoyance filling him up with a tiredness he often felt within her presence. He wasn't done--

"She's done. She's clicking." Ms. Kim spoke once more, forcing Averi to adruptly look at the screen on Grace. In the top right a red blinking marker alerting him that her space was near zero. He had cleaned her for Harah's photoshoot today so why was she clicking this early? As he scanned the screen for possible malfunctions he'd hate to inform the already on edge Harah of his failure. Even the infamous Averi messing up on the first day? What luck is this?

He had seen none. Grace was fine, but the timer in the corner of the screen said differently. Harah's photoshoot began at the hour. It was thirty mins past that. What?

He had been taking pictures for the past thirty minutes? He's never lost track before. Standing still, unaware that he was being approached, Averi didn't gasp until Harah's warm hand came to touch his shoulder. He looked straight into those hellfire eyes, his own reflecting confusion. Harah smirked, smiling only a tad bit before he squeezed Averi.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd be better than this." Harah's taunting tone comes into Averi's ears and he instantly straightens up. 

No, it wasn't that at all. It was the lost time that had Averi on edge. He remembered taking a few shots, but the rest was a blur. Who knew how long he had been forcing Glory to do something she couldn't? Thoughts of mindlessly breaking his best friend was enough to rock him.

With a swift tongue, a glance towards his precious Grace, a finger gliding over her frame, Averi spoke. 

"Shut up--"

"You were on fire. It was as if you two were dancing with the devil himself throughout the entire shoot! Harah's poses were perfectly synchronized with every shutter click. I'm confident you captured some stunning photos, Raemore." Another voice, as booming as Ms. Kim's, pierced their small bubble. It belonged to none other than the VP himself.

Averi shifted his stance, stepping forward to brush Harah's hand off his shoulder. This slight gesture seemed to irk Harah, who quickly scoffed, retracting his hand and stuffing it into his pocket. Whatever.

Averi nodded, trusting that VP Rich's assessment was accurate. It had to be. If the photos turned out to be a disaster, Averi wouldn't be able to salvage his error.

"Good job, you two. Let's take a break, shall we?"

Averi watched as VP Rich's hand wrapped around his neck, leading him away from Harah. VP Rich was always rude to models. He often didn't acknowledge their presence, leaving them standing alone. Averi couldn't resist looking back, compelled by an inexplicable urge. As his gaze fell on Harah, he saw the newcomer standing there, staring back with an intense glare. Harah didn't blink once. Averi felt a pang of guilt for leaving him behind.

"Fond of him already?" VP Rich inquired.

"No—of course not. He's a client," Averi responded. He couldn't shake off the peculiar aura Harah exuded, a possessiveness that radiated confidence and an indescribable feeling that Averi couldn't quite grasp. He was certain, however, that the growing distance would bring relief.

VP Rich guided him to the desk where they would analyze the footage and tie up any loose ends. Subsequently, the finest photos would be processed and marketed online to magazines and diverse websites. A straightforward advertisement announcing Harah's association with them will be featured on their website. Harah's gigs would commence as various fashion agencies started showing interest in him.

It was all a waiting game from here on out. 

Reaching for the USB, Averi connected Grace to the computer, granting access to her storage. The small screen glowed green, processing the folder. Soon, they would know the duration required to transfer all the images. He was about to discover the number of pictures captured in those thirty minutes. She beeped, and the computer began the download, estimating 1 hour.

Averi shivered.

"Wow, have you ever snapped this many photos before?" VP Rich laughed at Averi's blunder, but Averi remained silent. He turned slowly, his gaze finding Harah, who was seated on a nearby bench. The newcomer surveyed the studio until his eyes abruptly met Averi's for the fifth time. Averi held the stare, clenching his jaw. Silly thoughts were invading his mind.

"There you go again, staring at him. How about you two grab some food for everyone? We're hungry, and this download might take more than an hour."

"Huh?" Averi turned sharply towards VP Rich, one eyebrow arched at the odd suggestion. Taking a model out of the studio was not an option. They were colleagues; this was strictly professional. Ms. Kim was available; she should go.

Averi's fingers pressed into the table, his eyes shut tight. The photo shoot had unsettled him. Wandering around, feeling like an outsider, wasn't ideal for the whole night. He knew his act would have an effect on everyone. Perhaps VP Rich had a point. He always valued the man's advice. A breath of fresh air was preferable to dwelling on trivial matters. He had zoned out, so what?

"I'll be right back," Averi murmured.