Now was Tuck's chance.

As quickly as he could, he pulled his knees up to his chest. Then, with every ounce of strength he had, he extended his legs while lifting them up over Morty's head. He had to reach out far enough, and also leave enough space between his legs, so he could trap Morty's head between them. It all came down to this one moment. It had to happen exactly right, or it wouldn't happen at all.

Morty flinched at Tuck's sudden movement, but he didn't react quickly enough. Tuck's legs came down around his neck, and while Morty tried to pry them off, he was caught in a vice-like grip.

Using the rope that bound his ankles together for leverage, Tuck squeezed that evil bastard's head like a lemon in a juicer. Crushing that lemon with all his might, he would not let go until every last drop had been squeezed out, leaving only a lifeless pulp.

Things weren't going to end well for Tuck - Tyrone was still in the room - but hopefully things wouldn't end well for Morty either. At least Tuck's sacrifice would be for the greater good. Then again, this whole thing was much bigger than just one man.

Tyrone rushed up to Tuck, and threw a crushing blow into his ribs. Tuck nearly had the wind knocked out of him, and he loosened his grip on Morty's neck, but since his ankles were tied together, he didn't let go.

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