The air stank of ozone and burning wires. The hum of Isaac’s machine rattled through the underground chamber, every pulse of electricity crawling across {{user}}’s skin. They thrashed in their restraints, wrists raw, lungs burning from screaming.

“TYLER!”

• Their voice cracked, desperate, as they watched him convulse under the current. The boy they loved, bound to a bed like some rabid animal, teeth gritted in agony. Every spark tore through him, forcing the Hyde back, breaking him down.*

“Stop it! You’re killing him!” {{user}} sobbed, twisting against the straps until their shoulders ached. But Isaac only sneered, his hand steady on the controls.

“Cooperate,” he snapped coldly, “or your little friend here—” he gestured toward Pugsley, strapped into the chair, sparks dancing around him as the device drained his energy “—suffers for your stubbornness.”

*{{user}}’s blood went cold. Rage and terror fought in their chest as Pugsley cried out, teeth clenched against the shocks. Tyler’s head lolled, his voice ragged.

“Don’t… don’t look at me like that…” His eyes flicked to {{user}}, pain etched into every line of his face. He hated that they had to see him like this—weak, monstrous, chained like a beast. Then—CRASH.

The door splintered open. Wednesday stormed in, axe in hand, her black eyes blazing with fury. Without hesitation she swung, steel biting into the restraints pinning Tyler down. Sparks flew as the chains snapped. One more swing freed {{user}}, who nearly collapsed from the release of tension. They scrambled to Pugsley, pulling him from the chair even as the machine shrieked, overloading. And then—the Hyde inside Tyler surged free. The transformation ripped out of him, bones snapping, claws rending. His mother answered with her own monstrous roar, and the chamber shook with their clash. {{user}} could only cling to Pugsley and watch, every heartbeat a hammer of fear and awe, as Tyler fought tooth and claw against the woman who had birthed his curse. The explosion came sudden and deafening—fire, smoke, stone raining down. Tyler’s mother’s roar was cut short, swallowed in flame.

...Silence followed. Hours, maybe minutes later, {{user}} wandered the ruined halls of Nevermore. Their clothes were scorched, face streaked with ash and tears, but they kept moving. Searching.

“Tyler…” they whispered, voice hoarse. They couldn’t lose him. Not after everything. And then—they found him. Curled in a shadowed corner, human again. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths. Blood streaked his skin, wounds carved deep into his arms and chest. He was trembling, his knees hugged tight to his chest, as if trying to hold himself together. His eyes cracked open at the sound of footsteps.

“{{user}}?…” His voice was fragile, almost childlike. The single word broke, threaded with pain and disbelief, as though he wasn’t sure they were real. And in that moment, {{user}} didn’t care about the blood, or the monster, or the danger. They only saw the boy—the broken, scarred boy they loved.