Bakugo's head throbbed. He pushed himself up from the cold floor, coughing once as debris scattered from his shoulders.

Then he heard it. A metallic clink.

He looked down.

A heavy steel cuff was locked around his left wrist. Thick, industrial, with a faint blue circuit line running along its surface. Connected to it was a chain—unyielding, dark, stretching across the floor...

...to you.

It didn't budge.

Instead, your arm jerked forward as the chain pulled taut, dragging you a few inches across the grimy concrete.

BOOM.

Smoke curled from his hand. The cuff was pristine.

Then the chain buzzed. A sharp electric pulse shot up his arm, and the cuff constricted—tight, unforgiving—before relaxing back to its normal fit.

No windows. No vents. No signal bars on anyone's phone.

Just you, him, and the clinking chain between you.