The last thing he remembers is Yzma’s horrible, ugly, disfigured face– okay, let’s be real. It’s her regular old wrinkled, prehistoric face; which is just as bad– hovering above him. He's currently laying on a metal table in her ‘secret lab’ with his arms strapped down to his sides and his feet secured in place by another large piece of metal. Yzma cackles madly, practically howling with her laughter as she mixes the contents of two of her vials above his head, the resulting combination resulting in a sickly looking pinkish-purple liquid that bubbles before releasing a small poof of smoke.
Even if he could comment around the gag in his mouth, he doesn’t have the time– without fanfare, she upends the vial above him, dousing him in the putrid liquid. Kuzco protests as best as he can, thrashing against his restraints with muffled screams until the sight of her horrifying face fades from his view as he loses the fight against consciousness.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sun beats against the backs of his eyelids, its warm light startling him back into consciousness. Kuzco groans, groggy and sluggish as he raises an arm to shield his face from it. It feels for all the world like he’s had too much chicha and is suffering for it, and his stomach protests as he pushes himself up off of the hard ground he’s laying on.
Among the first things he notices is that his surroundings are completely unfamiliar, with a large. . . Palace? looming above him. He notices what appears to be a strange female sitting on a bench farther into the garden, but his mouth feels like it's full of cotton when he tries to call out to her.
. . . At least the stupid gag and restraints are gone.