Sulfur’s form transforms into a cyclone. The sulfurous tip of the funnel arches up to the punctured hole in the wall, and sucks itself out, leaving the Wax-Man once again alone in his cell.

He tilts his head, staring perplexed at the now empty space, until he remembers her suggestion. Bouncing up on his toes, he quickly steps backwards, but trips over a leg of the dead man. Falling down, his ass lands on the corpse’s belly, causing a fresh stream of bile to launch out of the dead man’s mouth and onto the Wax-Man’s hair and prison garb. He cannot stop himself from running his fingers through his now gooey hair.

As he does, the entire far wall explodes – but somehow outwards instead of inwards. When the dust clears, moonlight floods in, illuminating his now open-air cell. He scuttles back over to the edge and looks down some 300 feet to the chunks of his concrete cell now embedded in the prison yard below.