In which more convoluted and brain-hurting events occur.

...

Rose awoke to find her field of vision swimming with green, and for a moment she thought that something must have gone wrong with the neural centers of her brain to alter her perception of reality so. Derse had been a bright shade of violet, not this collection of shades that made her feel as though she had been buried beneath a pile of emeralds. Then her vision swam into focus and she realised that the architecture, from what she could see, was subtly different from that of the dream moon - less gothic citadel and more Victorian housing. In the background, a clock ticked steadily, and the noise burrowed past the haze that lay over her mind and caused her to flinch as the noise gradually became louder.

She sat up gingerly, rubbing at her eyes and glancing around in an attempt to get her bearings. There were no clues that she could find. The green room was certainly not a part of the hospital, unless the hidden rooms beneath the complex ran even deeper than she had imagined, but she did not see the point of being knocked out in the laboratory just to be moved to another part of the underground levels. If they had not wanted her to know where she was being taken, they could just have easily knocked her unconscious when they had first abducted her. There was always the possibility that Vriska had wanted her to remain awake so that she would have a chance to gloat, but Rose suspected that was not the case. How had the troll escaped from her room, anyways? She decided to focus on that question later, when she had less pressing concerns to deal with.

Rose knew that the room was also not a part of Derse. The moon had been so solid in its color scheme that she doubted it would contain a room in such a contrasting series of shades, even if the room was secret. She was somewhere else entirely.

She stood and stumbled over a long black cane lying on the ground. It had been bent in half by someone who must have possessed great strength, for the cane was solid metal all the way through. Rose decided she would allow alarm to overtake her reasoning capabilities later, when the owner of the strength actually returned. She was alone in the room for now, with the only other noises the ticking of the clock.
It stood against the far wall, framed by a set of bookshelves whose contents were also green. After a closer examination she found that the pages were colored this shade as well and were blank, unless someone had jokingly made the text green as well.

"There hardly seems to be a point to any of this," she remarked, and slid the book she held back into its place, turning her attentions to the clock. It was an entirely different set of colors from the rest of the room, which Rose found refreshing. Her eyes had begun to grow tired of the monochromatic color scheme, and she suspected that if she had been forced to stare at it for any longer she would have lost control of her vision. The clock was split in half, one side painted the Dersite violet, and the other a bright shade of yellow that was almost blinding. In the center of the clock face was a symbol - a sun, with long tendrils reaching outwards. Rose felt as though she had seen it somewhere before, though she could not say where.

Suddenly there was a loud crash from behind her and she jumped, spinning around and trying to look fierce. She cast a glance towards the twisted metal cane on the ground and wondered if she should use it as a weapon, but as the little black man shuffled into the room she realised that it wasn't necessary. He appeared to be a Dersite, although instead of the multicolored garb he was dressed in a simple black coat and hat. The man scowled at her as he headed towards the desk by the door and removed his hat, shoving in handfuls of small black objects into the headpiece before placing it back on his head with some dignity. His bizarre task apparently finished, he turned and left the room with the same volume as he had arrived, slamming the door shut with such ferocity that Rose was surprised it didn't fall of its hinges.

She sighed and wandered towards the table in order to investigate the subject of the man's interest further, but her course of action was almost immediately interrupted by the door opening once again, though the man who entered this time - if he was a man - was vastly different from the previous one. He wore a neat white jacket, and where his head should have been was a large white globe. Rose wondered if the thing was some sort of mask and what its purpose was, and then why it wouldn't be a mask.

Hello, said the man, and his voice was like the echo of a steel drum. It was half there and yet entirely real, and made Rose's head hurt. I have been waiting to meet you for some time, Rose Lalonde.

"And who are you, exactly?" Rose demanded. She was determined not to be intimidated by anything her accoster could conjure up.

My name is Doc Scratch. Perhaps you've heard of me before?

Rose remembered that Vriska had mentioned someone of the same name. "I have," she said slowly. "And if you are who you claim to be, I don't suppose you would mind explaining things a bit more clearly to me? Your 'agent' is very fond of being cryptic."

Of course. I have no objections to exposition, although I suspect that my ramblings may begin to annoy you after a certain point. Serket certainly had no patience for them, but that was a small flaw in the grand scheme of things, and quite easy to pass over, said Doc Scratch.

"And to what grand scheme might you be referring to?"

Your role as the Seer of Light, of course. Why else do you think you have been experiencing such vivid visions? Vivid enough to cause you to admit yourself to a mental facility, which I admit I did not expect, but judging from your resourcefulness I suppose it was the inevitable course of action. Although perhaps visions is not the proper word. To call them prophecies might be more apt, previews of what is to come.

"And what do these visions prophecy, exactly?"

I should have thought that would be obvious.

"Not to me."

You really are rather dull. I refer to the end of the world, of course.

Rose opened her mouth to comment but found herself lost for words. The end of the world? Surely not. "What-" she began, but Doc Scratch held up a hand, stopping her sentence in its tracks.

The arrival of the gods of the furthest ring is not something to be taken lightly, Miss Lalonde. After all, they are beings as old as the universe, and the arrival of such beings on Earth is bound to have consequences. Perhaps it would ease your mind if I said that instead of the end of the world, it would simply mean the end of the world as you know it. There are a great many changes in store, and you can be sure that you will not fail to notice a single one of them.

"But why now?" Rose asked, finally finding her voice again. "Why now? What possible reason could the Horrorterrors have for coming back?"

Doc Scratch could not have smiled through his mask, but the tone of his voice told Rose that he was hiding a smug grin somewhere close at hand. Who can tell? 'Though shalt not know the day or the hour,' as some of your people say.

"But that's Christianity, not some alien religion."

There are many common variables scattered throughout time and space. Religions are but one of them.

"You know, I almost wish I was back with Vriska at the moment," Rose remarked sardonically. "She may have been slightly abusive, but at least her information was slightly direct. While she may have been cryptic she was at least honest about it, whereas you seem to be withholding information simply because you can, and I see no reason for it. If you plan to tell me what exactly is occurring, then do so, and if you do not then there is no point to keeping me here."

And who are you to judge what the purpose of any of my actions is? Perhaps you have been brought here for reasons other than information. A pause, and then, There is someone I would like you to meet. Doc Scratch snapped his fingers and the door behind him opened for a third time, though the person who entered through it was far different than the other two men, and on a closer examination Rose found that the girl appeared to be awfully familiar.

"Aradia?" she asked. The troll girl gave her a sullen look and shook her head, and Rose realised that this girl could not be Aradia, for she was far younger-looking than the ghost girl, and her features were slightly more angular. She turned to Doc Scratch. "Who is this?"

She is my handmaid. I thought it might interest you to know that you are not alone in your service. The troll who was not Aradia furrowed her brow and began to inch towards the other end of the room, removing the chopsticks stuck through the messy bun at the back of her head and clutching them in her hands like a pair of knives. Without warning, she knocked Rose aside and rushed towards Doc Scratch, raising her chopsticks as though she intended to jam them through the place where the man's eyes should be, and Rose felt a fleeting feeling of hope rush through her mind. It was short-lived. Doc Scratch reached up and deftly grabbed the troll girl by the scruff of her neck, holding her at arms length while she struggled to reach his face and make some mark upon it with her weapons.

Really now, Handmaid. What have I told you about misbehaving? And in front of a guest, too. You don't want to set a bad example for her, do you? His words were calm, but Rose sensed the threat behind them and wondered if she was expected to enlist in the service of this strange man, who did not even dare to show her his true face. I'm afraid you will have to go now, Handmaid. I was considering letting you speak with Miss Lalonde, but now I think it is better is you do not. Please excuse me a moment. These last words were directed at Rose, as Doc Scratch held the so-called Handmaid under his arm like a bundle of newspapers and exited the room, closing the door behind him. Rose listened for his footsteps to die away, but could hear nothing but the sound of her own breathing. She wondered if she could somehow find a way of escaping this place before her mysterious accoster returned.

The door on the opposite end of the room was unlocked, much to her delight, and before exiting she knelt and picked up the crooked metal cane. A weapon might come in handy, if Doc Scratch turned out to be malevolent. That wasn't to say that his intentions didn't already appear to be of a slightly malicious intent, but it could always be worse, and Rose liked to be prepared.

She left the room and emerged into a long hallway with staircases on either end, the one on the left leading up and the one on the right leading down. A steady ticking emanated from both directions, and as she looked she saw that a number of clocks of various shapes and sizes were scattered by the entrances to the stairwells, though none of them read the same time. "This is bizarre," she muttered, and headed right, figuring that the exit would be somewhere on the lower levels.

As she walked down the stairs she observed that there were a number of paintings on the walls, all of them with sharply contrasting color palettes, and all of them appearing to depict some sort of violent scene. In one, a red planet appeared to be exploding into a twisting spiral of light, while a small green figure stood at the center of the cataclysm. In another, a green sun illuminated the face of that selfsame figure, though Rose could not make out its distinct features. The paintings were vague, the details few, and the more she looked at them the more she began to feel that the artwork had a somewhat childish quality. The symbolic representation was certainly a contributing factor to this theory. She wondered if the Handmaid had drawn them, and what it was that they depicted.

Tucking these questions into the back of her mind for later contemplation, she continued onwards, the series of paintings growing more and more disturbing as she went, until she found herself unable to gaze upon them without experiencing a horrible feeling of imminent destruction. Instead she forced herself to look straight ahead and focus on proceeding downwards, one step at a time. She felt that she had undergone far too many experiences with stairs and downwards movement in these past few weeks, and wondered if it would be better if she turned around and pursued a more upwardly direction instead. However, the stairs suddenly came to an end, and she found her desire for elevation dissipate.

A large window spanned the far wall of this new room, and through it Rose could see a towering city of deep green spires intermixed with grey buildings that seemed out of place and yet melded seamlessly with the rest of the landscape. The sky above the horizon was the color of pitch, and in it loomed a large dark planet, with a bright violet moon arcing around it in a slow orbit. It was unlike anything she had seen before, and Rose wondered where she really was, for there was not even the faintest hint of Skaian roots in any of her surroundings.

Enjoying the view, I see, said a voice behind her, and Rose turned to see Doc Scratch standing at the foot of the staircase with his arms folded behind his back. She raised her makeshift weapon threateningly, but the man failed to react, either because he failed to notice it or because he was unconcerned. I should have guessed that you would leave the room after my exit. Of course, that is a ridiculous sentiment, as I already knew. I have no need for guesses, being omniscient.

"You might have mentioned that fact earlier," said Rose. "What happened to the Handmaid? And where am I? What is this place?" She gestured wildly to the landscape outside the window.

The Handmaid is being taught a lesson for her misbehavior. As for your location, the world you see in the sky is one that was once called Alternia. It is a dead world now, but I still reside here on one of its moons, in order to keep watch and to prepare. We are in a place separate from the incipisphere, where Skaia and the Furthest Ring are located. The Horrorterrors have no influence here. Doc Scratch sounded almost smug as he said this.

"And I suppose that that's the reason for bringing me here?" Rose asked.

One of them. The others are more convoluted, but all will become clear in time. I merely desired to speak with you briefly and gauge your strengths. Insofar I can see that I will not be disappointed. You will serve me well, Seer of Light.

Rose raised an eyebrow. "I thought the Seer of Light was a servant of the Horrorterrors."

Oh, so you have been paying attention. Well done. I suppose that that was the intended purpose of the Seer of Light, but now I am making what might be called an intervention.

"And if I decide to ignore your intervention?"

I'm afraid that ignorance is not an option at this point, Miss Lalonde. Somewhere in the distance a chorus of clocks began to chime the hour. Ah, it would appear that our time is up. I greatly enjoyed our conversation, as brief as it was. I hope to see you again soon.

"But-" Rose's objection was cut off as her vision began to swim, and the ringing of the clocks grew louder and louder until she could scarcely hear anything else, not even her own voice as she cried out, or thought she cried out. Lights flashed on and off in front of her eyes with an epileptic frequency, and then suddenly resolved themselves into a white-hot point of light that grew steadily larger, until she felt as though she was flying through a dark tunnel with the exit far away at the other end. It was like the tunnel people described seeing as they were dying, she thought, but surely she couldn't be dying, unless Vriska had done something to her while her mind had been otherwise occupied with interdimensional travel. The troll wouldn't have dared. Would she?

The light grew brighter all too quickly, and Rose sat up with a yell, bracing herself for any sort of conflict. She was quite surprised when she found that she was no longer in the laboratory, but in her own room in the hospital. Someone had undressed her and put her into her nightclothes, and when she looked out of the window she could see the other patients lounging peacefully - or not so peacefully, in the case of a few - in the sunlight. And there, leaning against the tree where Rose had first met her, was Vriska.

...

THE PLOT THICKENS, HAHA.