Scott slowly woke up 2 hours later, the last thing he remembered being the pure agony he was in that caused him to pass out in the first place.
This time, he woke up in a nice bed, in what he assumed was a nice room. He couldn't really tell with how blurry his vision was.
He slowly sat up, his body felt weak and drained, and his head felt worse.
He slowly made his way to the door, it was locked of course, so he peeked out of the horizontal slot in the door.
The seemed to be in a fancier arena of the castle too, which just confused him more. He was a prisoner. Not a guest. Were they trying to trick him?
He reached up and felt some sort of bandage on his neck, and that's when it hit him.
The queen plaga. The spike.
Scott felt the room close in on him. They've infected him. FUCK. he was going to be controlled again! Just when he was free!
His mind was running a million miles an hour. How long had it been!? How long did he have left!? How long until..
He ran up to the door and started banging on it.
What the hell did you fuckers DO TO ME!?
One of the zealots hit the door with their fist to get Scott to quit it
"¡Cállate!"
It was those damn cultists that were ordering him around from earlier... just as ugly as ever. They were laughing to each other, was this some kind of game to them? When Scott started pounding on the door and yelling again, one of them snickered to themselves and opened the slot in the door, tossing in a wooden comb. It hit the red carpet dramatically, Scott just stared at it.
A comb.
A fucking comb.
Scott had a buzz cut.
And they gave him
a comb.
What the FUCK was he gonna do with it??? Was this funny to the zealots? Was this all a game to them!? WHAT THE FUCK!!!! They couldn't see or hear Scott's reaction, but they were still laughing
