He was afraid. In the heat of the moment, Mr. Puzzles had bravely stepped into the portal, trying to close it from the inside. There was no logic behind this act, only the impulse to prove himself to the crew, to Meggy, to WPNZ. It was meant to be him, and him alone, vanishing into the unknown depths of probable death, just so his friends could be safe. It was only when the wormhole closed completely that he finally faced the sheer terror of the situation.

He was falling, darkness clinging to his outstretched limbs as the once-heroic light faded, plunging him deeper into a sea of ​​despair. He screamed, terror gripping him as a sudden wave of complete blackness submerged his vision. He thrashed, panic stinging his chest like a knife wound. He felt his consciousness slipping away, his breath quickening. Was he dying? Reincarnating? Going to hell? His thoughts were suddenly grounded by a rough but comforting hand that gripped his arm so tightly he thought he might get away clean.

"I’ve got ot you, boxhead!" WPNZ sounded in the darkness, his grip reassuring. "I won't let you go!"

He could barely enjoy the subtle comfort before his vision began to blur, partly from the tears streaming down his screen, but more from the fact that his consciousness began to slip away like a heartbeat, WPNZ's panicked screams turning into sweet nothings as he fainted.

His screen dimmed, reality resurfacing before his eyes. His ears were still ringing, and he couldn't move, but he was alive. And so was someone else.

"Boxhead!" A voice he recognized called out. It was genuine, filled with hope and relief. He felt two hands grip his shoulders before WPNZ came into view. And for the first time, he looked scared. Petrified. His eyes widened in terror.

"You're okay. You're going to be—we're going to be—oh God." He felt the gunman's head sink into his chest, ragged breaths brushing against his skin.

"WPNZ?" he called.

"Yes, yes! Puzzles! It's me! I'm here."