Another chapter for you guys! Yay! Though this chapter is a bit of a filler-not really-I'm pretty proud of it. Be prepared-there is a lot of gore, madness, and blood ahead. And you'll finally know who He is!

Another quick thing: I capitalize Him when I'm talking about Him. (For example, I talk about Him's eyelashes, I'm going to write it as "His eyelashes," as oppose to "his eyelashes."

I hope I'm making sense here...

Both of them whirled around, hoping to find that Christophe hadn't disappeared. But he was nowhere to be found.

"So much for sticking together." Craig muttered.

"We h-have to find him." Jimmy said. "Without him, we're a lost c-cause."

Craig nodded in agreement. They'd be done for if they lost the Traveler.

"Where could he have gone..." Craig said softly.

"I-I think someone must've t-taken him." Jimmy said. "There's n-no other explanation..."

Craig agreed. There was no way Christophe could've just left. He knew Christophe was a man of honor, and would stay true to his word. He couldn't have left them alone here.

Craig suddenly felt a pounding in his head. His hands flew to his head, where his old chullo had long since fallen off.

"Agh..." he mumbled. "Fucking headache..."

"I-I think it's this c-castle." Jimmy noted, wincing. Craig presumed he had a headache, too. "Now that the Traveler's g-gone, the madness of this place is going to s-slowly get to us. W-We should get T-Tweek as s-soon as p-possible."

Craig nodded, and then shivered as the sensation of being watched shocked through his spine. It felt way more intense than the forest, like the person was only inches behind him.

They continued down the hall silently, tensing at random occasions when they thought they heard a footstep or a light giggle.

The caped figure continued to creep behind them, His teeth biting His knuckles to the point where He felt the steam flow out. His right eye twitched violently as the aroma of warm, perfect flesh invaded his nose. He took a moment to inhale and continued to silently follow the tall boy and his crippled friend. He couldn't wait to destroy the pale, untouched skin.

Jimmy tried his best to silence his crutches. The rubber stops he had put on them before the journey had worn immensely, making every step sound like nails to a chalkboard. That did nothing to help the headache.

He thought of what tools he was going to use. He bit down harder.

Craig marveled at the amazing architecture of the castle. It was simple, but beautiful-the ceiling had a pattern of hearts on it, the shapes fitting together in a tessellation.

He reached forward. Success.

Craig realized that he didn't hear the nails-on-chalkboard sound anymore. It was a constant screech of metal against rock.

"Jimmy? JIMMY!" all he saw was a metal crutch turn round the corner of the hall. He ran as fast as he possibly could, just in time to see the door of one of the rooms slam shut.

He looked at the plaque.

Tea Room.

Craig took a deep breath, and entered.

The room was completely dark, albeit a few candles burning on what looked like a table. On the table were teapots, plates, and cups, thrown around like a child's playset. Some were cracked, and some looked like they had been sitting there for ages. What looked like people were sitting in chairs, and the eerie silence made Craig shiver again.

That same silence was broken by a high-pitched, airy laugh, and the sound of a muffled scream. Craig snuck quietly through the darkness. He could practically picture his knuckles blanching from his iron grip on the sword.

"Someone's here." said a quiet voice. It definitely didn't sound like Jimmy. "Let's greet our guest."

A bright light suddenly exploded into being, and Craig faltered, holding his hand over his forehead to try to lessen the sudden change in contrast. The light was fluorescent and looked like the type dentists use on their patients. Craig saw the outline of a person standing there, holding the light.

"Come be in my tea party...!" the voice mumbled. Though high-pitched, it was a male voice, and his words were slurred one moment and completely clear the next.

Craig said nothing, just stared painfully into the light as his eyes began to water. He didn't exactly know where to go from here.

"Don't be shy." it continued. "We have guests..."

The light shifted from right in Craig's face to the table. At first, Craig didn't really react. There were people sitting around the table, silent.

Then he realized.

On the plates in front of each "guest" lay red objects in peculiar shapes. It took a moment for Craig to take this in.

The "guests" weren't "guests" at all. They were bodies. Victims.

And on the plates lay their organs. Craig recognized a heart, a lung, and a trachea.

What kind of sick fuck would do shit like this? He knew that people were insane here, but seriously. Who would ever rip out organs and serve them on dinner plates?

"Your friend is here, too."

The light moved, and it reminded Craig of a Broadway show. Now, on to act Three.

There, sitting on the floor, ties up, was Jimmy.

"Wh..." Craig couldn't even form the words.

"He's having a lot of fun!" the voice giggled. "He told me that he really wanted you to come and join the party."

Craig had had enough. He swung at the dark shadow with his sword as hard as he could.

In an almost cat-like move, the figure jumped out of the way and darted into the shadow of another corner.

Jimmy didn't react. Craig realized that his friend had been knocked unconscious.

"Why is he tied up? Who are you?" the raven finally managed to speak, approaching the corner where the mysterious figure now stood, until he could see the outline of a face, concealed by darkness.

A single foot peeked out from the shadows and into Craig's vision. It was bare, and the skin was an unnatural shade of pink.

Then, a hand poked out from the shadows, along with the foot. The skin didn't match. The hand was a shade of milky white, but a small stream of black was coming out steadily.

He knew what that meant, and he grew more cautious.

The hand drew closer, until he realized it was touching his face. It was warm. Too warm.

In fact, it began to burn him. He felt his skin bubble and tried to pry the hand away, but it stayed, in a way glued to his face.

The figure finally-finally-stepped out to show himself. He was tall, about so much so as Craig. He was dressed in a black cloak, and underneath He sported a white shirt that was surprisingly in mint condition. His dress slacks were also perfectly pressed. He wore a black top hat with a red ribbon around it. Tucked behind the ribbon, there lay what looked like a black piece of paper. In one hand, He held a large butcher's knife that shone in the candlelight.

His face, however, was another story.

His eyes were two different colors-the left one being a pure white, and the other being a burgundy color. Around them were a couple scratches. His nose looked crooked, in a way, like He had cracked it too much.

That wasn't the worst part.

His lips were busted and looked like they had been pounded. Deep gashes slid from the corners of His mouth up to His temples. Craig saw that the gashes were loosely sewn together with what looked like string. Some of them were broken, revealing the ruined skin underneath. His smile was smeared with human blood, that Craig knew automatically wasn't His own.

Agony pierced through him as the blisters forming on his right cheek began to burst. He gasped in pain and buckled to his knees.

"You're getting weaker." the boy said, finally withdrawing his hand. "I can feel the madness starting to get to you."

Craig looked into the boy's eyes, refusing to give up. He had just gotten here, and he was already on the ground. But Craig knew He was right. The raven felt like his skull was going to break from all the thoughts and the almost impossibly painful migraine he was developing.

Before he could understand what was happening, He pulled out a rope and began to tie his wrists. Craig struggled as the scratchy fabric tickled his arms.

He backed away when he finished tying Craig up, and beamed, like a child who had just gotten praised. Craig glared and continued to struggle for a moment, but then realized it was no use. His sword had evaded him, and he sat on the floor next to an unconscious Jimmy.

He held up the knife. Craig braced himself, and waited for the blinding pain.

But there was none.

He looked up, mortified, and saw that He was digging the knife into His cheeks, deepening His Glasgow smile, and breaking the stitches that tried and failed to keep the pieces of skin together.

"Why..." Craig said, as He winced in pain, but appeared, still, to be smiling.

"He says I have to be happy." He whispered in reply. "And I am. I'm happy having tea parties. I'm happy being here. I'm happy having black smoke instead of blood..." He trailed off, and Craig felt a sense of despair radiating from him. He, like all the others in Wanderland, had no choice, and he had been driven into madness.

"You don't look it." Craig said, letting his stoicness overtake his thoughts for a moment.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He asked childishly.

Craig nodded, even though the last thing he wanted to do right now was gossip.

"I don't like being me." He said, looking down at his feet. "I don't like having smoke as blood. I'm...jealous."

"Jealous." Craig repeated.

"You." He pointed at Craig and Jimmy. "You have red as blood. I have smoke. I want red. Red's my favorite color." he babbled. "I've been trying so hard to-to get red. So many tea parties...but nothing works."

Craig nodded. He felt like a psychologist analyzing some wackjob. Which was pretty much what he was doing-except for the fact that he was surrounded by dead bodies, and he was tied up and being held against his will.

"The King tells me to keep him safe." He continued. "He says people like you are too dangerous, and that madness keeps us alive."

How did that make any sense? Then again, nothing did here.

"I don't feel alive, Craig."

How did He know Craig's name? The raven wasn't sure.

"I feel used. I feel jealous. I feel tired. I just want to die." His voice caught, and Craig saw tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He began to laugh again, not the light kind that He did before, but a deep, forced laugh.

"I...can't...stop..." he said between peals of hysterical giggles. "He'll...make me..."

"Make you do what?"

"He promises that I'll get to stop..." He muttered. "If I don't stop."

What did Craig just hear? The King would let this kid stop killing...if he continued killing?

He looked at Craig expectantly, as if what He just said made perfect sense.

"Uh...yeah..." was all Craig could muster.

"So...so...I'm sorry." He murmured. "But I'll only be able to stop if I don't stop. I have to kill you now, Craig."

In that moment, Craig recognized Him. He recognized the black hair that swooped down, resting right on His eyelashes. He recognized the high-pitched voice.

But it was too late.

Too late to kill Him. Too late to try to escape. Too late to save Jimmy, or Tweek. Too late to find Christophe.

Damien's knife made its way into his neck, hilt deep.

Yay! SO...MUCH...INSANITY...I LOVE IT!

If you don't know, I love writing insanity stuff.

For those of you who are reading Stripes and Belts-I'M GOING TO UPDATE IT! I have the ending chapter in mind, and it's going to be funny.

Also-I'm on Youtube! I'm doing an SP cosplay :D

I only have 2 videos up, but there are going to be more!I have literally zero subscribers, so I'd really appreciate it if you guys told me what you think... :/

So pleasepleaseplease look at that! (I'm gonna cosplay Craig, Christophe, and Damien, and there'll probably be more in the future :D)

Here's the link : channel/UCiOvZSmJJQdIC90GZnVdB4Q

But yeah, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Good news, too: I might do a sequel to this story. How, do you ask? You'll have to stay tuned to find out :D

Okay, see y'all later. ^_^