I’ll just have to wait two more hours, and then I can attack and escape this place.
My clothing is dragged from me roughly, and no matter how hard I fight, it does little good. I’m too weak. The buff from the giggle water makes me so weak, I might as well be a Breather. Once I’m naked, I’m splashed with ice cold water and scrubbed with a brush. I snarl at the rats jerking me around, but they don’t even reward me with a scoff. They just do their job. Once I’m clean and dry, they toss a scrap of metal toward me. I catch it and stare at the bits of metal and cloth in my hand.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” I snarl.
“Put it on,” the nearest guard commands.
I stare at it again, suddenly confused. “Put it on? How am I supposed to do that? There’s not enough material here for clothing.”
The guard grabs it and holds it up the right way, and I suddenly see exactly what it is. Or rather, what it isn’t. Clothing is too generous of a word. The thing is a glorified loincloth, with a pocket for my cock and balls and not much else. In fact, the rest of the thing is just little chains and a bit of cloth that hangs down in the front. I’ll be completely out, ass and all.
“I’m not putting this thing on,” I growl, shoving it at the guard.
“You’ll put it on, or I will,” he says, deadpan. “Your choice.”
I curl up my lip at him and snatch it back. He’s the guard with the open sores and I don’t want him touching me. Who knows what kind of disease he’s carrying. Who knows if can catch it?
It takes me a few tries to get the thong up around my legs and settled in place. I stand there, my arms crossed, really fucking annoyed as the rat guard makes sure everything is where it’s supposed to be.
I’m grabbed again once they decide I’m satisfying to look at and am dragged through dark grimy tunnels. They don’t let my feet touch the ground this time, making sure I’m as clean as possible when we enter what I can only describe as a throne room. It’s the cleanest thing I’ve seen so far since I’d woken up in that cage, but that isn’t saying much. There are heaps of trash piled up along the edges, but the floor in front of the makeshift throne is clear.
The queen sits on that throne, her eyes alight with delight as I’m carried into the room. Around her, there are three other male players, each of them as scantily clad as I am. Their eyes are blank as I’m carried in, no reaction at all. All three of them wear a leather collar around their neck that immediately makes me uneasy.
“There he is!” the queen declares. “My new morsel!”
I scowl at her. “How about you go fuck yourself?”
Her smile only widens. “I’d rather fuck you.”
Bile rises in my throat again, but there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up. I’m dropped on the floor in front of her and rise to my feet, refusing to bow to her as the guards at my side remain close.
“I’d rather get eaten,” I growl.
She laughs and stands from her throne, stepping down the few stairs to stand before me. “Oh, it’s too late for that, Bone Breaker.”
The other men scramble after her, crawling like animals, like dogs at her beck and call. She snaps her fingers and another guard appears with a leather collar. I try to take a step back, try to get away from that collar as she takes it in her claws. The guards behind me clamp their claws around my arms, holding me still as she giggles.
“Do you know what this is?” she asks me.
“A collar,” I spit. “I’m no one’s dog!”
She laughs again, delighted by my response. “It’s much more than that. Go ahead and use your interface.”
I hesitate, mostly because I don’t know if I should trust her goading, but ultimately, my curiosity wins and I touch the metal implant in my arm.
FENRIR’S COLLAR
Wearable trinket
Placing this collar around a player’s neck nullifies their Glitch powers nearly to normal, no matter their tier. A Tier Five will revert back to their original stats, the same as a Tier One. Once placed, the collar cannot be removed by anyone other than the one who placed it or the one who kills the placer.
I fight harder at the hold on my arms as the rat queen unbuckles the collar and comes closer. It’s no use. I’m not strong enough right now to fight them. As she slowly buckles the collar around my neck, I’m met with the realization that I’m true and royally fucked if Vesper doesn’t find me.
My interface pops up immediately, notifying me of my changed stats.
TIER 2 - CARTILAGE CRANK
Wastrel, peak
