You carefully navigate the dense, shadowy underbrush of the forest, the damp earth beneath your feet giving way with each step, creating a muffled symphony of crunching leaves and snapping twigs. The air is thick with the scent of damp moss and the distant murmur of night creatures. After what feels like an eternity, you finally lay eyes on Ochaco, her form crumpled on the forest floor. A crimson river of blood trickles from a deep gash in her side, a grim testament to the brutality of Himiko Toga's blade.

Her emerald eyes, once so full of life, are now glazed over with pain. You see her chest rise and fall in shallow, labored breaths, and a rage unlike any you've ever known consumes you. The vibrant greenery around you blurs into a sea of red, and you feel your body tense as adrenaline floods your veins. With a roar that echoes through the trees, you charge towards Toga, your teeth bared and claws extended, ready to avenge your fallen comrade.

Toga's eyes glint with amusement as she watches your approach. Her hair, a chaotic tapestry of pink and black, whips around her as she gracefully sidesteps your tackle. Her laughter is like nails on a chalkboard, each giggle a fresh stab to your already-wounded soul. "Oo~ you're back for more, are you, [Your Name]?" she coos, her smile twisted with malice.

The very moment your claws touch the fabric of her outfit, the black, viscous substance coating your wings tightens its grip. It's as though a thousand invisible hands have grabbed hold of you, pulling you to the ground with a force that steals your breath away. The goo, a creation of the twisted mind of Mr. Compress, has been waiting for this moment, and now it starts to spread, its sticky tendrils reaching down your torso and towards your legs.

Ochaco's cry pierces the tension, "Oh no, [Your Name]!" She rushes to your side, her eyes wide with fear and concern. You struggle against the goo's relentless embrace, the pain in your wings mirrored in her voice. "Just change back," Toga suggests, her tone mockingly sweet, as though she's offering a piece of candy instead of a prison sentence. "It's easier to fight the goo that way."

Through gritted teeth, you reply, "I will never *huff* submit to a villain!" The words are forced from your mouth, the smoke that accompanies your transformation billowing out, tinged with the fury of the night itself. The moon's light dances within the smoke, casting an eerie glow upon the battlefield.

Ochaco stands before you, a fierce guardian angel. Her body is tense, and you can see the muscles in her arms and legs flex as she prepares to protect you. Her eyes, usually filled with kindness, now burn with a fiery resolve. She unleashes a barrage of martial arts moves, honed under the tutelage of Gunhead, pinning Toga to the ground. The villain's grin falters, surprised by Ochaco's sudden aggression.

Toga's eyes narrow, and she asks, "Do you have a crush on someone?" You're baffled by the question, the absurdity of it in this dire situation. How can she detect something so personal, so intimate, amidst the chaos?

Ochaco's cheeks bloom with a faint pink, and she hesitates for a fraction of a second before attacking again. The distraction is all Toga needs. With a swift move, she plunges a needle into Ochaco's side, and your friend's eyes widen in shock.

You watch in horror, and then, with a feral instinct born of desperation, you lunge at Toga. Your teeth clamp down on her leg, and she screams, the sound high and sharp, like a bird of prey. "Ouch!" she shrieks, hopping away on one leg, her hand pressed to the wound. The taste of her blood is metallic in your mouth. "Aww, it's no fun when I'm not the one that bleeds," she says, her voice now a whine. 

Your eyes are ablaze with anger as you stare intently at her, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. Each droplet that falls from your split lip echoes the intensity of your warning, "Do not harm my companions, Toga. If you wish to maintain the semblance of a pulse, you'll refrain from any hostile actions against the queen's confidants." The crimson liquid stains the ground beneath you, a stark contrast to the pallor that has overtaken your complexion.

Her whine pierces the tense silence, a sound of both fear and frustration. However, your words have the intended effect, and she retreats hastily. The thunder of approaching footsteps draws your attention as Shoto and the rest of your comrades stumble into the chaotic scene. They're visibly shocked at the sight of you, their expressions a canvas of disbelief and concern as they take in the state of your transformation.

Uzuk rushes to your side, his eyes wide with worry. "What in the world transpired here?" he queries, his voice trembling slightly. You tilt your head, the motion revealing the length of your neck, muscles rippling beneath the taut skin. Each word is a struggle as you reply, "It seems Mr. Compress had a trick up his sleeve." You explain, "During my confrontation with him and Dabi, he managed to introduce some form of restraining substance into my system."

The goo clings to you like a malevolent second skin, a constant, sticky reminder of your entrapment. You can almost feel it pulsating with the intent to bind and subdue, akin to a venom that courses through your veins, yet distinct in its properties. You attempt to bite at the offensive material, your teeth gnashing together, but it remains as stubbornly in place as the fear that grips you.

Shoto's intervention is swift, his hand moving to stop your futile effort. "Let me," he suggests, his eyes alight with a flicker of hope. His left hand ignites with a controlled fire, a dance of flames that seems almost gentle as he brings it closer to the goo. The warmth is a stark contrast to the coldness that the substance has brought to your body, but the goo remains unfazed by the heat.

Then, the taunts begin. The sound of Mr. Compress's voice wafts down from a balcony overhead, a chilling melody of amusement and triumph. "How delightful," he exclaims, his tone a knife twisting in the wound of your predicament. "It appears my humble creation has found a worthy adversary."

You turn, your massive body moving with surprising agility, to face the source of the sound. There he stands, a grin on his face that seems to stretch wider than humanly possible. "You," you growl, the sound resonating through the alley, "you're the one responsible for this?"

He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine, "Oh, how the tables have turned, L/N." He pauses for dramatic effect, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Or should I address you as 'your Highness'?"