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New First Rule of Fight Club: Don't Bring Wednesday Addams to Fight Club
by SciFiDVM
Wednesday Addams hasn’t thought about Tyler Galpin in years.
Sure, he was a constant presence in her mind in the months following the events that took place on the blood moon her first semester at Nevermore. Initially she tormented herself trying to figure out how he’d so thoroughly deceived her, how deep the threat he’d been a part of extended, and if there was any way she could get retribution against him personally. But he was safely ensconced at Willowhill Psychiatric Facility. In accordance with HIPPA laws, the facility actually did an admirable job guarding the information about their patient, and the patient himself. Trying to get information from his father was no use. Donovan Galpin surrendered his position as Sheriff of Jericho as the full details of his son’s involvement in the attempted genocide came to light. Facing backlash and accusations, he moved away without providing a forwarding address.
Wednesday’s attempts to ferret out information about her institutionalized nemesis never produced more than a small trickle of data which eventually dried up entirely. Inevitably, her attentions turned elsewhere. There was a new principal at Nevermore that required Wednesday’s investigation. Other mysteries arose that kept her occupied. Time passed. There were other Harvest Festivals, Rave’ns, and birthdays that came and went uneventfully. At least less eventfully than that first year. She no longer entirely associated those events with the incarcerated Hyde.
She went away to college. Her thoughts only turned to Tyler that first year away when she contacted Eugene, still at Nevermore for one more year, via crystal ball to wish him a very unhappy birthday. The younger boy’s attempt to keep his friend on the line longer included a summary of all the local town gossip. A few days prior, a heavy duty armored transport vehicle had been seen driving past Jericho from the direction of Willowhill and toward the highway. The size and durability of the vehicle were suggestive of its contents being something large and violent.
Wednesday briefly renewed her interest in the three year old case. She searched, but found no record that there had ever been a trial. Of course Laurel Gates never stood trial for her crimes. She had met her maker on the burnt cobbled ground in the Nevermore quad the night of the blood moon. That introduction having been hastened by the sturdy sole of Wednesday’s vintage Doc Marten. She had assumed that, given his record, Tyler would have been subjected to a trial, or at least a negotiated plea agreement. The details of such things would likely have remained sealed, owing to his age. However, there should have still been some kind of paper trail eluding to such proceedings. Instead, there was nothing. It was if Tyler Galpin had ceased to exist after being listed as a foot note in the documents describing her brief detainment the night she had tortured him in Xavier’s art shed. If it was a cover up, it extended well beyond his father’s thoroughly eroded sphere of influence. Knowing the grisly fate that befell his mother at the same institution, she had checked. No death certificate had ever been issued in his name. The mystery once again lead to a dead end. Despite her usual tenacity when confronted with a mystery, she disliked the way that diving into this portion of her past dredged up feelings that teetered perilously close to being considered emotions. She let the trail go cold.
Stray thoughts about her former antagonist became less and less common over the next couple years. The only significant time he crossed her mind was when she met someone her junior year of college. He was extremely intelligent, with the requisite narcissism Wednesday’s many court ordered therapy session had taught her usually accompany such a trait. He had a British accent, dark hair, a slender build, and a biting dry sarcasm that rivaled her own. Upon meeting him, Enid had commented that he gave off strong Loki vibes. Whatever that had meant. Everyone had commented how perfect they were for each other. Perhaps it was a form of narcissism to be attracted to someone so much like herself, but it was enough that Wednesday was willing to give dating one more chance. The first time he kissed her, she couldn’t help but compare it to her only other similar experience. This new suitor was forward and assertive in his affections. It felt like they both took what they wanted from the other. Kissing Tyler had been different. In that instance it had felt more like they had been sharing something with each other. It had been more intimate. And look how that had ended. She forced memories and comparisons out of her mind and turned her focus entirely toward her new partner.
Thoughts of her fictitious relationship with Tyler remained forcibly expelled from her mind until this relationship also came to an inevitable demise. This time there were no murder attempts or betrayal, just apathy and loss of interest. In the end, they were too similar, emotional walls and all. Sitting alone in her dorm room after they had officially called it quits, Wednesday compared the mild irritation she felt to the way she had been shaken to her core when she’d discovered Tyler’s deception. She had never come close to being that invested or trusting in this more recent relationship. Tyler may never have physically struck her, but perhaps he had left some scars after all.
With nothing further to trigger the memories, thoughts of Tyler again drifted away from her conscious mind. This time the thoughts stayed away for years. Wednesday graduated college, continued to write, and supplemented the modest income publication of her Viper De La Muerta novels provided with jobs as a freelance private investigator. She had carved out an interesting and oddly fulfilling life for herself in New York City.
Wednesday had been sitting at a restaurant bar, surreptitiously surveilling a subject eating at a nearby table with a siren that was not his wife. She was certain she was being subtle, and her mark had definitely not made her. However, a man sitting three seats away at the bar clearly had. He got up, walked over, and took the seat next to Wednesday. He disregarded her glower that clearly told him his company was not welcome.
“Easy there. I’m not here to hit on you. Call it more of a professional courtesy.” He said quietly.
Wednesday gave him a glare that said she did not believe him.
He tipped his head toward the table she was watching. “Her husband hired me.”
Wednesday nodded. “His wife, in my case.”
He smiled. “Maybe we should share notes.”
They talked and casually kept a watch on their subjects until the pair finished their meals and left the restaurant. Wednesday and her new colleague followed the pair to the street. She appreciated that it was much easier to remain inconspicuous when she appeared to also be on a date.
The woman stepped into an Uber, and the man walked toward his car in the parking lot.
“It appears this is where we part ways.” Wednesday nodded at her companion. Then she took out her phone to make a note regarding the exact time her subject exited the restaurant.
That’s when the other PI grabbed her phone from her hand. Amidst a swarm of protest, he rapidly opened the contact app, entered his information, and sent himself a text to get hers, before handing the phone back.
“I suspect we’re going to see each other again tonight if we both keep following these two. But just in case we need to share anything else about the case.” He gave her a grin that was far too smug.
“If you expect to continue breathing, let alone collaborating on this case, I strongly suggest you keep your hands to yourself in the future.” She glared at him. “Men have died for far less.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking more intrigued than frightened. “I want to hear all about that. But now I need to…” He hooked his thumb in the direction the siren’s Uber had gone. “If I have to guess, I assume I’ll see you around the Hilton on 34th in half an hour or so.”
“If tradition holds.” Wednesday muttered. “Why are philanderers so predictable?” The last part was said to herself.
“I’m not gonna complain if they make our job easier.” He smiled at her, cocked an eyebrow, and set off after his quarry.
Wednesday tailed her mark in the direction of the hotel initially, but half way there he changed direction and headed home. He detoured to stop at a drug store and came out carrying a bottle of children’s cough syrup. He proceeded home, and showed no signs of leaving for the rest of the night.
Wednesday’s phone buzzed with a notification of a text message about two hours later.
“What happened? Ur guy didn’t show”
“My client called him. His son is sick. It appears he will remain at home tonight.”
“Ugh what a waste of time. At least we can bill for it”
“You are not incorrect.”
The phone went quiet for a while and Wednesday prepared to drive home. Just as she started up her car, it buzzed again.
“Since we’ve got the night off, you wanna go do something?”
Before Wednesday could type out her reply in the negative, another message came through.
“Don’t take this wrong but you seem like you might appreciate some good violence. If so I know a place”
That was not the direction Wednesday expected that to go. Her interest piqued, she replied, “Where?”
…..
Wednesday has not thought about Tyler Galpin in years. She certainly is not thinking about him as she accompanies her new PI colleague past numerous security guards and into a large poorly illuminated warehouse building out near the docks. The place is far more crowded than Wednesday expects and the smells of cigarette smoke, sweat, stale beer, and blood fill the air. Through the throngs of patrons, she can barely make out bleacher seating around a well illuminated fighting cage in the middle of the building. It’s not dissimilar to any other underground fighting establishment she’s ever been in, though the cage surrounding the arena seems stronger than usual.
While Wednesday had been easily enticed to come watch some bare knuckles violence, she can’t suppress an unexpected thrill that has started running through her body since the moment she entered the building. She finds the sensation mildly unsettling, as it is strongly out of proportion to her overall interest in the event.
“So, I might have lied earlier.” Her companion has to yell to be heard over the crowd noise. Apparently the fight going on still out of their clear line of sight has whipped the crowd up into a near frenzy.
Wednesday’s head snaps in his direction, her face furious and accusing.
“When I sat down next to you earlier, I said I wasn’t going to hit on you.” He grins guiltily. “I was totally trying to hit on you.”
Wednesday rolls her eyes. “I know.”
He chuckles. “Well, you’re here, so I’m glad my ruse worked.”
Wednesday shrugs indifferently, still distracted by the unexpected charge she feels in the atmosphere she can’t explain.
He turns his attention toward the event taking place in the main ring up ahead. Looking pleased and excited, he grabs her arm and starts weaving them quickly through the crowd toward the arena. “Excellent, we made it in time. I thought we might be too late. It’s not the main event, but you gotta see this thing…”
Wednesday quickly rips her arm from his grasp, but continues following him. The odd sensation radiating in her bones only increases as they approach the giant cage that is the focus of every patron’s attention. Due to her height, she can’t see beyond the few layers of crowd still standing in between her and the thick metal cage. She hears the metal rattle as if something very heavy has been flung into it, followed by a loud thud as said heavy object falls to the concrete floor. They have almost wheedled their way to a good view at the front of the crowd when she hears one of the combatants let out a desperate and vicious growl. Her blood goes cold with instant recognition, just as the last layer of spectators part just enough for her to get a clear view of the ring. The sight before her only confirms what her other senses have already told her. She is well aware of what type of creature produced that growl. She can still feel the moist heat and flecks of saliva that had accompanied a similar angry roar when it had once been issued a mere foot from her face as she had been pinned to a rotted tree trunk a decade ago.
She sees a giant mass of grey leathery flesh streaked with blood fighting an enormous werewolf. Both are injured. The sight takes her back into the woods near Nevermore so many years ago as she had watched a similar fight. Except this time it was not a newly wolfed-out Enid fighting the boy that only 2 days prior had been her barista more-than-friend. This werewolf is male, enormous, and given the muscle definition and crazed facial expressions, she’s fairly certain it’s on a strong cocktail of anabolic steroids and other psychotropic drugs. The Hyde it’s fighting is bigger than the one she was intimately acquainted with, and its muscles are more rangey than bulky compared to the physique in her memory. The skin on the beast’s back and shoulders, the only side she can currently see, is so scarred it is almost unrecognizable as flesh. The werewolf has it pinned against the cage, biting and snapping rabidly at the Hyde’s neck as it uses all its upper body strength to hold the gnashing maw just out of reach of its throat. The crowd is going wild.
“It’s called a Hyde.” The companion Wednesday had completely forgotten about leans in and informs her in a voice that is still a yell.
“I know.” The words fall from her mouth, little more than a whisper.
He still seems to catch her words. “I thought you said you’ve never been here before? This is the only one I’ve ever even heard of.”
“I knew one when I was in school. Tried to kill me and my friends.” Wednesday says numbly.
“What are the odds?” The guy laughs then cheers animatedly as the Hyde manages to shove the werewolf of itself. “Aren’t supposed to be too many of them left. Do you know what happened to yours?”
She’s sure that’s not how he meant it, but hearing someone refer to Tyler as “her Hyde” only compounds the strange feeling currently going haywire in her gut. “Institutionalized in a facility for the criminally insane last I heard.” She answers.
“Given your history with them, I won’t hold it against you if want to root for the wolf. But be warned, Guido’s had this one here for years now and it’s never lost.” He grins at her.
The Hyde charges forward to go on the offensive against its opponent. It has a clear limp Wednesday can’t attribute to any current visible injury. If what her companion has said is true, this creature has been subject to years of abuse and injury. Its master must be particularly heartless and sadistic to use it in such a way. It dredges up all her old insecurities and the questions that have gone unanswered for over a decade. How much of what Tyler had said and done was influenced by his psychotic master? Had any of what happened between them been real? Could things have been different? Now, seeing another Hyde so abused, it raises another question. Does anyone not utterly despicable ever become master to a Hyde?
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying this.” Her acquaintance points out. “I thought you said you liked some good action.”
“Normally, yes.” She sighs. “But knowing what I do about Hydes and their forced servitude to their masters, this creature is unlikely to be fighting of its own free will.”
“Oh.” He looks relieved. “No need to worry about that. This one doesn’t have a master. That’s how Guido got it. Couldn’t be controlled. Tons of people tried. Actual professionals. It never took. So Guido lets it fight to its vicious heart’s content most nights, then it’s exhausted and sleeps all day safely locked away in a cage. Then they just do it all again. Supposedly it was crazy AF in its human form. Hasn’t even tried being human for a lot of years.”
“I’m not sure the scenario you describe is much better than what I envisioned.” Wednesday is on edge.
He shrugs. “The beast can get its violence on in a place where it won’t hurt anyone that doesn’t volunteer, and it gets fed and housed. From what Guido says, the other alternative was putting it down.”
Wednesday shrugs and returns to watching the fight. She finds everything about this to be uncomfortable. And not in the good way. The weird feeling inside her has taken on a new urgency, like a roiling anxiety, which doesn’t help the situation. Perhaps coming on this outing was a bad idea.
The werewolf slashes at the Hyde’s overdeveloped forearm, laying the skin open and sending a trail of blood across the dirty arena floor. It then lands a kick to the Hyde’s gut with its back feet and sends the big grey creature flying off it. It lands on its back near the end of the cage where Wednesday is standing. She sees its face for the first time.
Time stops as her eyes meet those of the monster on its back before her feet. As a species, individual Hydes may not have many clearly distinguishing features. There’s no distinctly colored hair coats or major anatomic differences. But Wednesday would know those hazel eyes anywhere and in either size. Recognition clearly flashes through them as well, as they stare at each other.
“Tyler.” She mouths the word silently.
At that moment, the reunion is interrupted by the werewolf diving on top of Tyler’s prone form. It sinks its teeth into the Hyde’s shoulder and the beast lets out a cry of pain. But he doesn’t let the rending of flesh and muscle in his upper shoulder stop him. A new fire lights in the Hyde and it rolls the pair over so that it is now on top. The werewolf grapples back, and soon they are in a deadly alligator roll along the dirt and blood strewn ground. The werewolf loses its grip at some point during the struggle. Sensing the opportunity, the Hyde takes control of the roll, grinds its knees into the ground to stop them with him on top, reaches down to grab the werewolf’s head, and snaps its neck with one quick and vicious twist. The werewolf’s body goes slack. The crowd goes wild.
The Hyde lets out a roar, which the crowd only echoes in kind. Then it takes a few panting breaths still sitting astride the dead opponent’s legs, its eyes searching the crowd wildly.
Wednesday can tell the instant his eyes find her. The tension leaves its hulking frame and its face softens. Then he collapses forward, toppling onto the body of his latest victim and then sliding to the ground beside it. Blood pours from the open wound on his shoulder. Amidst the cheering and the wagered money changing hands, no one steps forward to address the injured fighter.
Furious that Tyler is being left to bleed out in the dirt, Wednesday darts forward, hops the guard rail designed to keep patrons a safe distance from the arena, and goes straight to the area where Tyler has fallen almost against the cage bars. Despite a few shouts, she reaches between the bars without hesitation and applies pressure to the gushing wound. Her assistance does drastically decrease the hemorrhage, but she can tell that it was already starting to lessen even before her intervention. The Hyde’s healing abilities are substantial. Within thirty seconds, blood is no longer oozing past her fingers. Another half a minute and she can feel the surrounding tissue attempting to knit itself back together. She removes her hand and only then realizes that the physical contact had temporarily quelled the nervous energy radiating through her.
“Hey girl! You got a death wish or somethin’? Get the hell away from there!” A greasy looking man in a suit far too nice for this crowd, Wednesday feels safe in assuming this to be Guido, yells at her.
“Tyler, are you in there?” She asks, not entirely sure there is any answer to that question that she wants to hear.
The beast on the floor starts to rouse.
Wednesday lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
The Hyde slowly comes back to himself and sits up onto shaky haunches. It looks at her in confusion and disbelief as it cautiously reaches an oversized claw at her, but the bars of the cage are too narrowly spaced for him to fit the hand through. His behavior flips like a switch. He starts snarling and hurling his enormous bulk at the bars then clawing manically at them. Wednesday can’t tell if he’s merely trying to get loose or to come after her. His last order from his former master had been to kill her. She’s done her research, but no one knows for sure if an order survives the master’s death.
“Girl! I said get the hell away from there!” Guido is now rapidly approaching Wednesday, but she doesn’t care.
Wednesday only has eyes for the ravening creature in front of her. While there is little published research on Hydes, she has read all of what is available. The particular scenario she was interested in was never addressed, but Wednesday has read enough to have a few theories. She had strongly hoped that this one particular theory had been wrong. Unfortunately, it is only supported by what she has been told tonight. The Hyde is still clawing and hurling himself at the cage furiously enough that he will likely injure himself in short order. She takes a deep breath and gives the command. “Tyler, stop it!”
The beast instantly goes still. He sits in the cage, his whole body visibly quivering with an external version of what Wednesday is feeling internally. She doesn’t realize that the whole crowd has gone silent. Guido had been about to reach over the railing and pull her back out of what he believed to be harm’s way, but even he has frozen at the sight before him.
“Um… Holy shit, Wednesday.” Her once again completely forgotten companion approaches the railing near her and is the first to speak. “When I said ‘your Hyde’ I wasn’t being that literal. What the…”
“Yeah.” Guido cuts in. “What the actual hell? You come into my place of business and start messing with my…”
“He does not belong to you.” Wednesday growls.
“Sorry girly, but I got a mess o’ paperwork that says I purchased that thing from one Willowhill Sanatorium fair and square.” Guido shoots back.
Wednesday can feel her temper flaring and she begins to shake with anger along with the Hyde in the cage behind her. She quickly realizes that she is feeling more than her own rage. That’s when she becomes certain. There is more linking her and the abused creature behind her than a bit of sordid history from high school. The theory she developed then actively avoided has been proven true. She became his master when she killed his previous one. While that thought alone is enough to induce a mild anxiety attack, she realizes the other implications of this freshly proven reality. Tyler was tortured for years in the name of attempting to control the Hyde by trying to install a new master. No one else understood that it would never work because he already had one. Had she not been too afraid of having to confront her feelings surrounding the boy that had so thoroughly beaten her defenses, she might have shared her theory with the supposed professionals at Willowhill. Perhaps he would have been spared most of the scars that now marred his body. Guilt joins rage in the emotional maelstrom threatening to be unleashed on the sleazy and despicable owner of this establishment.
She takes a deep breath and decides to attempt to reason with the man. She’ll resort to violence if needed, but for once the law is actually on her side in this fight. “Hydes are categorized as a fully sentient, autonomous, human-based outcast species by the Romanian Outcast Convention of 1783. You cannot ‘own’ a Hyde any more than you could own a vampire or a normie.”
Guido actually has the audacity to “Tut tut tut” at her as he pulls a set of tri-folded documents out of a pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. “This one’s a special case.” He sneers at her. “History of violence. No master to control the monster. The best specialists in the country couldn’t make it accept a new master. So messed up in the head, it virtually refuses to exist in human form. It’s not a person anymore. It’s a dangerous animal. And I’ve got the documentation to prove it.”
“Your ‘documentation’ is inaccurate and prepared by morons.” Wednesday scoffs.
He unfolds the papers and holds them into her face.
She takes the papers and reads through them. She recognizes one of the forms as the same USDA licensing for private ownership of a dangerous and exotic animal certificate that her mother has for Kitty at their home. The paperwork all looks legitimate, and Wednesday readies herself to resort to Plan B: Violence. Then she reads the last paper.
The letterhead shows the logo for Willowhill. It describes the subject being transferred to the care of Guido’s Gaming LLC. as “one young adult male Hyde with no master and non-responsive to attempts at mastery”. It goes on to explain, “As this behavior is completely inconsistent with the species’ intrinsic instincts, it is deemed terminally defective and a danger to society. As the human component either chooses not to emerge or is fully prohibited by the inhuman aspect of the persona, the only options for the creature are transfer to a secure location to be cared for as a dangerous animal or humane euthanasia.”
Wednesday simultaneously finds herself wanting to vomit, wanting to burn Willowhill to the ground, wanting to punch Guido in the throat, and smiling. She smiles because she has found the loophole that will allow her to walk out of this hellish establishment with her former nemesis in tow.
“As I said, your documentation is woefully incorrect and unenforceable.” Wednesday maintains her composure.
Guido scoffs. “I assure you, little lady, it is all in order and legally binding.”
“Perhaps you are the owner of an unmasterable Hyde.” She shrugs. “But, dubious legality of this classification aside, the Hyde you currently have locked in a cage absolutely has a master and is in no way consistent with the one described in this paperwork.”
“We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that, sweetheart.” Guido’s grin is fast approaching the level one would consider to be shit eating. “I’ve owned this beast for seven years now, and it is exactly as described.” He takes the paperwork back from Wednesday and holds up a set of keys. “But if you want to prove me wrong, feel free to hop on into the ring with it. You think you can control that monster, I’m happy to let you put your money where your mouth is. I bet you won’t last five minutes.”
Wednesday takes a deep breath through her nose to ensure she doesn’t give any indication of her excitement. As she had hoped, the megalomaniac can’t resist a bet he’s sure he’ll win. “All I have to do is survive five minutes in the cage with the Hyde? I’ll take that bet.” She pulls a stack of bills from her purse and waves them in his face. “If I’m wrong, you get five thousand dollars and one more mutilated body to dispose of. If I survive, I walk out of here with Tyler.”
“This is insane.” The essential stranger she had arrived with is still here and acting like he is somehow invested in the current commotion. “I can’t watch this.” The PI whose name Wednesday had not actually bothered to remember storms off.
He’s not the only one. Much of the crowd has become disinterested in the unfolding drama and has filtered out of the stands. Though a blood thirsty few seem intrigued by the prospect of seeing the audacious little girl be savaged by the giant monster.
In the cage behind her, the monster paces anxiously, letting out little whines and growls.
“It’s your pretty little head.” Guido warns. “You got a bet.” He extends a hand to shake on it.
Wednesday shakes his outstretched hand with her right hand and grabs the cage keys with her left. She walks to the cage door and inserts the key into the lock with a trembling hand. She logically knows she should be able to control the Hyde as its master. But there is a huge unknown in the equation. She has no idea how much damage he has suffered in the decade since she has last seen him, and how that will affect whatever mental stability the barista-come-serial killer had ever held.
The monster lunges at the door as she begins to open it and she almost stumbles back. She takes another deep centering breath, looks straight at her nemesis and tosses her head in an indication that she wants him to back off.
Grumbling, he stalks to the far side of the cage.
She pushes the door open and steps in quickly before she loses her nerve.
Guido appears at the door in a flash to lock her in. He pulls the key from the lock and crosses himself.
Wednesday rolls her eyes. Then she turns her attention to her former nemesis.
The Hyde paces the far side of the cage as if he’s stalking her.
“You can relax.” Wednesday tells Tyler. “If you manage to refrain from disemboweling me for five minutes, I will get you out of here.”
He whines and continues pacing, but in a manner that looks more anxious than predatory.
A terrible thought dawns on Wednesday. “I was not incorrect in assuming you would want to escape this hell, was I?” Seven years is long enough for a whole lot of Stockholm Syndrome to kick in.
The Hyde lets out a low growl.
“I have no idea what that means.”
He growls again, just slightly more emphatically.
“This is ridiculous. If you would just transform, we could have a conversation like rational human beings.”
He snorts.
“You’re going to have to switch back to walk out of here. Master or no, there’s no way anyone lets a nine foot tall monster wander around Manhattan.”
The creature chuffs at her.
“Do I have to make it a command?”
He raises one side of his mouth into a growling sneer.
“I don’t want to be that kind of master. But you’re being ridiculous.”
He takes a few tentative steps toward her and lets out a sound that is part growl and part whimper. Now only an arm’s length away from her, he raises one large hand and points a claw at her hand, then lowers his face toward her hand. It looks like he wants her to put her hand on his head.
“You remember my visions used to happen when we touched.” She interprets. “There’s something you want me to see.”
The monster nods his head.
“And this is somehow better than just transforming and telling me whatever it is?”
He growl whimpers again.
“Fine. But we’ve got…” She checks her watch. “Three and a half minutes until we’re out of here. You better make this quick.” Then she lifts her hand and places her palm on his protuberant forehead.
Nothing happens.
His eyes, which have been clenched shut wink open and look at her rather judgmentally.
She removes her hand then replaces it on his head. Still nothing.
His stare becomes extra judgmental.
“How should I know why it’s not working? Maybe it’s you.” Then she grumbles, “Got a vision nearly every damn time I touched you back then. But that was with you IN HUMAN FORM.”
The monster’s switch seems to flip again, and it lunges at her. The crowd makes some surprised and excited noises as an enlarged grey hand grabs her throat. The Hyde keeps pushing forward and drives them back until he has her pinned against the surprisingly sturdy cage wall. She is trapped and worries that the damaged beast is about to maul her, or possibly decapitate her. It dawns on her to command him to stop, but she can’t speak with his claws clenched tightly around her throat. It’s then that she realizes that speaking is the only thing she can’t do. She can still breathe through his hold on her neck, and he’s not obstructing blood flow to her brain. This isn’t a wild attack by an insane beast. It’s a calculated move designed specifically to prevent her from giving him a command. But what potential command does he feel he needs to prevent?
She feels the hand clenching her neck start to shift before she sees the changes affect his face. She hears joints pop and tissue ripping as the transformation racks through the body in front of her. He maintains the very specific hold on her throat throughout the change, and the moment the pain associated with the shift subsides, his eyes are on hers again.
She doesn’t have time to analyze the very complex emotions that flash through his face before he barely whimpers, “I’m sorry.” Then he crashes his lips against hers.
Wednesday is too stunned to respond. It’s been ten years since she’s seen Tyler Galpin, and this was the very last reaction she’d ever expected to their reunion. She’d spent many nights imagining what she’s do to her former nemesis if she ever saw him again. Nowhere on that list was picking up where they’d left off in the Weathervane when she had the vision that outed him. Oh. The vision. That’s what he is after. That’s why he wants to make sure she can’t give him a command to stop.
Surrendering to the absurd nature of whatever link seemed to exist between them even before she became his master, she attempts to recreate the conditions from the last time that touching him had triggered a vision. She tentatively raises her hands to place them on his chest. He loosens his grip on her throat and slides the hand around to cup her cheek. Then she lets herself kiss him back.
Almost instantly, it works. Her head snaps back, her body goes rigid, and her eyes roll up into her skull. As her consciousness leaves her body, the last sensation she registers is Tyler’s arms wrapping around her to prevent her dropping to the ground.
Thankfully, whatever controls her visions abides by her earlier plea to make it quick. More than a decade passes in a rapid succession of flashes. Each potentially more horrible than the previous.
Tyler’s at the Weathervane.
Marilyn Thornhill dabs something like perfume on her neck, but a hazy vapor emanates from where it touches her skin. She approaches Tyler at the counter and smiles.
Then a flash of him getting into Thornhill’s car and looking at his mother’s record.
Then he’s chained in the cave, bloodied, desperate, and broken. Gates injects him with a swirling blue liquid and he transforms.
Wednesday watches Gates give the monster orders, then it flees into the woods, shreds apart the first hiker it finds, and brings a chunk back to its master.
She sees Tyler wake on the floor of his bedroom, naked covered in blood, confused and terrified.
She sees the moment they meet over the broken espresso machine.
She sees him arguing with Laurel.
Nearly every interaction they have had is paraded before her. The smiles are genuine. The subsequent fights with Laurel get more and more bitter. Gates resorts to more drugs to ensure compliance.
When Wednesday runs from the Weathervane after her vision of him killing Kinbott, he actually cries. He knows what she saw, and that his only shot at happiness is over. Gates and the monster take full control from there on.
She sees him fight wolfed-out Enid and get shot by his father. He first stirs from unconsciousness as his armored transport passes her car on its way home from Nevermore. The proximity to his new master registers and he knows. It takes every drop of drugs they have to keep him restrained.
He arrives at Willowhill. At first it’s all sedation and tests. Then the tests get more invasive. Then they move on to the torture they don’t even try to mask as treatments. They want him to be their pet. They want to force him to submit to a new master. The only thing that gets him through the torture is the thought that these self-proclaimed experts are too stupid to realize he already has one.
There are bouts of pain so intense that the thought of just telling them about Wednesday crosses his mind, but he will never do it. They have brought in professionals to torment him into submission. If they learn that all they have to do is kill his current master, they’ll likely come for Wednesday without a second’s hesitation. He won’t betray her again, now that he can help it.
Wednesday is treated to flashes of Tyler experiencing every kind of torture imaginable. Not long into the process, it becomes obvious that the monster form is less susceptible to the pain and heals faster. Tyler’s human form gradually ceases to emerge.
Eventually the doctors and their hired help lose interest and write him off as a lost cause. Documents are drafted. Guido appears to watch the beast through a viewing window as he is tortured. Then he shakes hands with the doctor.
The monster wakes in a new cage. He barely has time to take in his surroundings before being forced into the fighting arena with cattle prods. His first opponent in front of a full crowd is a pack of fighting dogs. Hungry, exhausted, and not fully recovered from the agony he survived at Willowhill or the massive amounts of sedatives pumped into him to facilitate his relocation, he barely survives. But the crowd loves it. He is herded back into his cage and fed for the first time in a week.
The nightly cage fights continue. The opponents get more vicious. He learns to associate winning a fight with a reward – food, bedding, or just being left alone. He is treated purely like an animal, so he remains in the form that tolerates that abuse better. Tyler fades from existence. Only the Hyde remains. Until this night.
Wednesday snaps back to consciousness seated on the ground, Tyler kneeling in front of her keeping her upright. He’s holding her shoulder with one hand and cradling her head in the other. The look in his eyes is the same one of concern she has awoken to many times in the past. In those moments, she had always thought the concern was genuine. How she could have been so thoroughly deceived had always haunted her. Now she knows the truth. She hadn’t been deceived at all.
“It was real.” She whispers as she comes fully back to her senses and sits up on her own.
Tyler slowly releases his grip on her. “It was real.” He confirms as he gives her a relieved smile. Then something seems to go wrong behind his eyes and the rapid fire stammering begins. “It was real. It was all real. None of us was her. It was real. Real real. I’m real. Are you real? You can’t be real. You can’t be here.”
“Tyler?” Wednesday reaches out for him, but he darts to his feet and starts frantically pacing around the cage.
He paces and rants around the cage, completely oblivious to the fact that he is naked.
She wants to avert her eyes, but she can’t help take in the entire sad state of his being. He is too thin. The scars that decorated his hide in Hyde form remain present across his human skin. Even her vivid and experienced imagination can’t determine what type of trauma caused some of them. Nothing about his crazed facial expression suggests any kind of mental stability. In short, he appears broken in every sense of the word.
What she saw in the vision haunts her. He had truly cared for her back in high school. His betrayal under Laurel’s mastery had been entirely out of his control. He had suffered extensively to protect her at Willowhill. For his loyalty he had been declared to be subhuman and sold off like unwanted refuse. Then he was used and abused for entertainment for years.
Wednesday’s done with this shit. Guido doesn’t get five minutes. Plan B starts now.
“Tyler.” Her voice is decisive and commanding. “Come over here.”
He approaches as instructed, but looks extremely wary and continues to ramble.
“Can you calm down?” She asks more gently than is typical for her.
He shakes his head side to side, then starts pulling at his hair.
“Transform back into the Hyde.” She tells him almost apologetically.
He seems almost relieved at the command and quickly submits his body to the transformation process. In this alternate form he now appears confident at her side.
Wednesday evaluates the locking mechanism and the hinges on the door to the cage. Then she looks down at her watch. “It’s been five minutes. I’m alive. Let us out.”
“Yeah… I don’t think I can do that.” Guido looks overly proud of himself, like he thinks he’s got something all figured out. “That thing,” He gestures at Tyler, “brings in a lot more than five thousand dollars in betting money each week. There’s no way I let you walk out of here with one of my most valuable assets.”
Wednesday would be embarrassed if she hadn’t seen this coming. “Fine.” She says calmly.
“I’m glad we can come to an agreement…”
Before Guido can finish Wednesday points at two spots on the door near the hinges where the frame is structurally weakest. Tyler instantly slams his full weight against the lower spot. The metal bends slightly and the pin within the nearby hinge deforms visibly.
“I don’t need you to let me do anything.” She pulls one side of her mouth into a wicked grin just as Tyler slams into the second spot she had instructed.
The lower hinge falls to pieces and the upper one deforms enough that the gate is hanging at a precarious angle.
“I am master to this Hyde.” She announces. “He was not ‘terminally defective’ in refusing a new master. He was instead proving his exceptional loyalty as is a credit to his species. Not only does that mean your paperwork is incorrect to the point of being null and void, it means that you and Willowhill have personally conspired to deprive me of my entitlements as the rightful master of this Hyde.” She points at the door barely hanging on half a hinge.
Tyler rips it easily from where it was weakly suspended and tosses the steel frame into the crowd. It crushes at least two of the spectators that had been hoping to see Wednesday ripped to pieces. The Hyde roars as it steps through the opening. Instead of charging into the now rapidly retreating crowd, he moves aside and lets Wednesday slowly step out. The monster stands, muscles rippling and saliva dripping from its jowls, at full attention at Wednesday’s side.
She steps right up to where Guido stands on the other side of the guard rail around the arena. “I am within my rights to kill you on the spot.”
A few men from the crowd warily step up behind Guido. These are likely his club security and a few patrons hoping to curry favor with the club owner and bookie.
“But I won’t.” She announces, and the group of men visibly relax. “I will, however, be leaving with MY Hyde.”
Guido sneers at her, but mutters, “Looks like I can’t stop you.” He then waves a hand and the men around him start to disperse. “But you should watch your back.”
“That seems unnecessary.” Wednesday says flippantly as she walks past him with Tyler following about one stride behind.
The Hyde stops as it is about to step past Guido and starts to growl.
“Hey!” Guido barks at her. “Get control of your pet.”
“I merely said that I would not kill you.” She smiles wickedly. “I never said Tyler wouldn’t.”
Guido starts back pedaling away from his former captive. His security suddenly seems hesitant to intervene as the Hyde slowly stalks after him.
Wednesday glares at Guido now, “You have suggested that the way you cared for this Hyde over the last seven years was appropriate and somehow kinder than a quick dignified death.” She slowly releases a breath through her nose. “I’m not sure Tyler would agree.”
“You… you can’t let him do this.” Guido stammers as the Hyde menaces the man until his back is up against the bleachers and he has nowhere left to go.
They grey beast briefly turns and looks to Wednesday for instructions.
Wednesday shrugs. “Your choice, Tyler.”
The beast hesitates.
“I’ll not judge you, whatever you chose to do or not. This is your debt to collect in whatever manner you see fit after the past seven years.” Wednesday says in an atypically supportive tone. “I have no interest in hindering your autonomy beyond what is absolutely necessary to ensure your safety.”
Tyler appears to weigh his options as Guido squirms impotently.
“Meet me outside whenever you’re done doing what you need to.” Wednesday turns and starts walking toward the exit. “Though you know my feelings on the topic of vengeance. Unless you’ve forgotten our conversation the night of the Rave’n.”
Wednesday only makes it two steps before she hears screaming and the tell-tale sounds of flesh being ripped apart. She smiles contentedly as she walks calmly to the front of the building.
Five minutes later, a human Tyler walks out of the warehouse attempting to adjust a belt on a pair of pants that clearly are too big to be his. The jacket he is wearing is also about two sizes too large for his malnourished frame, but does a decent job covering up the blood still smeared on his arms.
Wednesday grins at him as she leads him to her parked car. “Whatever you did, know I still would have taken it further.”
Something that approaches a smile tugs at his lips. Then he mostly mumbles, “Knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Wednesday rolls her eyes at him as they get into the car. It looks like tonight she will be serving as the getaway driver.