As though on cue, Shadow Hands ripped away from the blackness that surrounded them, gripping Wilson's limbs. Shocked, the scientist began to struggle, trying to break free of the binding arms. Maxwell chuckled at the scene before him.

"Wilson, you must calm down," he said devilishly, pulling out the Cotex Umbra from under his cloak. "Otherwise, the separation won't be clean."

Wilson began to breathe heavily. Panic and adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his eyes widened in fear. The arms had managed to make him hold near perfectly still, and The Shadow King began to flip through the pages.

He had to get out of the rouge god's grip. He wouldn't die, but his Grue could change that if he were close enough. He wanted to cry out for help, for someone, anyone to save him. But he knew no one would come, and he would be unable to escape from this place.

"Now, let's see..." He slowly read over the page, purposely extending the moment beyond what was necessary to drag on Wilson's suffering. "Ah, here we are. 'Separating Grue from the host."

He dragged a clawed finger across the page, reading carefully. He grinned maliciously after a moment, then looked up at the restrained man before him.

Wilson began to struggle again, feeling tears prick at his eyes. He didn't want his desires to kill them. The want of being alone was gone in his main view, but it still clawed hungrily at the back of his mind. He no longer sad that he wished to be alone, but deep down, he did want to be.

Maxwell held out his hand as Wilson let out a strangled noise. Just get it over with, you damn puppeteer! Wilson almost screamed, only barely controlling his anger.

A sudden burning pain erupted in his chest, and he screamed in agony. Black magic was being ripped from his chest, flowing out of his mouth. Hot tears poured from his wide eyes, white-hot heat making his body go limp. This was worse than death. He knew that. And he had accepted the invitation of pain.

As soon as it had started, the pain left, and the Shadow Hands released him. His body fell to the floor as he hacked up whatever he had left in his stomach. He gripped his chest weakly trying to get his breathing under control. Much of his energy had left him as well as that dark mass, leaving him on the edge of consciousness. He turned his head to see a black figure materialize next to Maxwell. W shaped hair, ragged scarf, snowflake pin.

Cold, soulless white eyes.