You wake up, lying on a cold, hard, floor.
Briefly, you have no idea where you are, who you are, or why everything hurts so much.
And then he starts talking, and you remember.
ARCHITECT: “Ah! Back in the land of the living, I see! Quite the tenacious ability you’ve got there.”
ARCHITECT: “Don’t worry, dear, these pedestals are for preservation, after all.”
ARCHITECT: “You’ll live, and that’s the fun part!”
ARCHITECT: “Don’t look at me like that, you bought this upon yourself. Plus, she tried to stick her thumbs in my eyes, and that was frankly rude.”
Everything hurts and you can’t move. Architect is standing there like some gigantic smug… tall thing.
Waves of sharp, prickling pain move down your still-numb limbs.
Why can’t you move?