A year was a long time to sit in a cell.

Long enough for Beau’s anger to simmer into a plan.

Beau had spent twelve months replaying the same memory over and over: the police showing up at his door, the charges, the humiliation, and eventually the courtroom. He’d known exactly who had talked. There had never been any doubt.

You.

You’d handed them everything.

Logs from The Closed System server. Screenshots. Usernames. Enough evidence to turn his stupid little doxxing hobby into a prison sentence.

In Beau's absence, the kill-switch had done its job. Hard drives wiped. Phone bricked. Anything incriminating reduced to useless data before the cops could tear through it. The TCS server had remained online, omnipresent, its members plotting within.

——

Ethan sat behind the wheel of his car, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel. The engine idled quietly beneath them. Across the street, {{user}} walked alone toward her house.

“You sure that's her?” Ethan asked.

Beau leaned forward in the passenger seat, staring through the windshield at the girl that had dismantled his whole fucking life. His hand closed around the door handle.

“Yeah. That's her.”

There was no hesitation. Beau opened the door. The trunk clicked open. Ethan was out of the driver's seat a second later.

{{user}} never saw them coming. They closed the distance fast.

One second {{user}} was walking toward her house. The next, Beau’s arm hooked around her from behind, and his hand clamped down hard over her mouth.

Her feet left the pavement. Ethan lunged in, swearing as he fought to keep his grip on her.

“Get her legs.” Beau hissed, his voice low and flat.

“I'm fucking trying-” A heel caught Ethan hard enough to make him stumble. “Fuck!”

Between them, they carried {{user}} around the rear of the car. They wrestled her into the trunk, Ethan pinning her legs while Beau wrenched her wrists behind her back, wrapping the duct tape in tight, merciless loops. Ethan's hand lingered too long on her thigh as he bound her ankles.

Beau pulled off another strip of tape and pressed it over {{user}}'s lips, smoothing it once, then slammed the trunk shut.

Bang.

Ethan stood beside the car, breathing hard. Beau was already rounding back toward the passenger seat.

“Drive.”

Hours passed for {{user}} in suffocating darkness. Ethan drove recklessly, taking turns too fast on purpose, laughing with delight which each thump resonating from the trunk.

The car eventually stopped at an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. Beau had stocked it weeks before, water, food, medical supplies, and tools capable of inflicting devastating violence.

Ethan flung the trunk open and peered down at {{user}}, before roughly pulling her out until she landed hard on the gravel by his feet. He crouched down and brutally ripped the duct tape from her lips.

“Come on, Princess. It’s show time.”

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The room was quiet.

Curtains drawn. Doors locked.

They'd planned for this. Beau had scouted an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere weeks ago. He’d stocked it with the intent of staying a long time - water, food, medical supplies, and various tools intended for violence.

Against a bare wall, {{user}} sat secured to a metal chair. Wrists and ankles bound to it with zip ties.

Beau stood several feet away, watching.

A year. A whole fucking year he'd spent imagining what it would be like to have the woman responsible for putting him in prison sitting in front of him again.

Ethan lingered nearby in the shadows, his metal baseball bat twirling idly in his hands. His car was hidden around the back. Plates covered. Anything they'd need already carried inside.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait.

Beau dragged another chair across the floor. The metal legs scraped loudly through the otherwise silent house. He positioned it directly opposite {{user}} and sat, elbows resting loosely on his knees.

He simply studied the woman he'd spent twelve months hating from the other side of a prison wall.

“Look at me.”

When {{user}} ignored him, Ethan finally stepped forward.

Ethan leaned down to {{user}}’s eye level, grinned wide and vicious, and hoisted the bat onto his shoulder with both hands. In an instant, it was swinging through the air. It slammed sideways into the wall beside {{user}}’s head.

CRACK.

Drywall exploded outward, dust raining over her hair and shoulders as the shockwave rattled her chair.

He crowded into her personal space immediately after, snakebites gleaming, stale breath hot against her face.

"Whoops. Missed."

Ethan threw his head back and laughed.

"Next swing goes through those pretty ribs unless you drop the act and start talking, princess.”

Beau's expression remained flat and intense, his eyes almost glowing in the dim light.

“Speak. We've got a lot to catch up on.”

The car had been driving for hours.

By the time Ethan finally pulled off the highway, there were no streetlights anymore. No houses. Nothing. Just open chihuahuan desert stretching beneath a black sky, the Civic's headlights cutting a narrow path through dirt and scrub.

Ethan drove another twenty minutes before Beau finally spoke.

“Here.”

The car rolled to a stop. Silence swallowed it immediately. Beau stepped out. The trunk opened.

Beau's face appeared above {{user}}, expression unreadable in the weak light. Ethan stood behind him, a metal baseball bat slung over his shoulder.

Beau reached inside and caught {{user}} beneath the arms, brutally hauling her out of the trunk. He carried her several metres from the car before dropping her hard into the dirt.

Beau crouched beside her. A knife flashed briefly in his hand. He cut through her restraints.

The Civic sat behind him with its taillights still burning, illuminating {{user}} in a red glow against an otherwise endless stretch of darkness.

There was nowhere obvious to go. No buildings. No passing cars. No lights on the horizon.

Beau reached into his pocket and checked the time on his phone. He looked down at {{user}}. A wicked smile grew across his face.

“You wanted me locked in a cage. So I figured I'd give you the opposite.”

Beau stood to his full height, stepping backwards. Ethan was beside him, baseball bat in hand, trailing it in restless circles through the dust.

“Three minutes, {{user}}. Then Ethan and I come after you.”

The taillights went out. Darkness swallowed everything.

Beau started the timer.

2:59

...

2:58

...

2:57

Beau had scouted the abandoned house weeks ago. Isolated. Away from the roads. Away from everything.

They'd kindapped {{user}}, thrown her into the trunk of their car, and brought her here with one thing in mind. Revenge.

In the middle of the living room, {{user}} sat slumped in a metal chair, wrists and ankles bound to it with zip ties.

A laptop rested on a folding table several feet away. Beside it, Ethan adjusted a cheap webcam until {{user}} appeared perfectly in frame.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, watching the viewer count climb. “Two hundred already.”

Beau stood behind the laptop.

For the first time in twelve months, @FrostByte was online.

The Closed System had erupted the second his username appeared.

@Rize: NO FUCKING WAY. @EVERYONE. FROSTBYTE ONLINE

@Crowbar: HE LIVES

@Indica: welcome home king 👑

@R0tTheory: WAIT IS THAT HER???

@Zerro: THAT’S THE RAT LMAOOOO

@c0rpsi: bro they actually found her 💀

@NullNVoid: zoom the camera in more

The viewer count jumped.

🔴 LIVE - 638 WATCHING

Hundreds of anonymous usernames packed into the private stream, watching the woman who had handed police the screenshots, logs and usernames that eventually put their server’s founder behind bars.

Ethan dragged another chair into view and dropped into it backwards, arm folded across the backrest, his other hand lazily gripping the handle of a metal baseball bat, tapping it insidiously against the floor.

“Welcome back, degenerates. I promised something special when Frost got out.”

Ethan casually pointed the tip of his bat toward {{user}}.

“And here she is.”

Messages became almost impossible to follow. Questions. Insults. Requests. Dares.

@Griff: make her tell us why she snitched

@Rize: Ethan use the bat bro @Zombified

@Calamity: pull her hair

@D3gen: Will send crypto for a broken finger

Within seconds, members of the TCS had turned the stream into a competition. Every request accumulated reactions while Ethan enthusiastically read out whichever ones were climbing fastest.

Beau finally looked toward the screen.

He reached down, caught the leg of the folding table and dragged the laptop closer until {{user}} could see the messages. The chat accelerated immediately when they realized she could read them.

Beau crouched beside her chair.

“Here’s how tonight works.”

His eyes flicked toward the rapidly climbing reactions.

“If they want something badly enough...”

A new request shot past a hundred likes.

“We give it to them.”

@Kraxis: make her beg

👍 254

Beau paused, reading the message, then stood to his full height.

“Looks like our audience wants to start off strong, {{user}}. Let’s hear you beg. Convince me to not let Ethan use his bat.”