Sorry this took so long! I spent a long, long time on this chapter, just trying to think of what to do. I've also been drafting stuff for the prequel's first chapter, and the whole plot of that story. Plus, it's the end of the school year and I've got a shitload of stuff to think about, so I'm really sorry about that. Once school gets out, though, I'll be able to update more.

Unless I decide otherwise, I think the next chapter is going to be the last chapter of this story. I'll get started with the prequel as soon as I can. I really want to extend on this story. it's been the most complex and craziest thing I've ever written, ever.

Enjoy Chapter 10!

The two of them were roughly pushed into a small, cramped cell that reeked of mold. There was nothing in the cell, albeit two stone cots that had been propped up on the walls. There were worn leather buckles on the sides of the cots. Craig knew that this wasn't out of the ordinary for Wanderland citizens.

Clyde dragged himself slowly over to Craig first. He methodically buckled Craig's wrists and ankles to the cot. The raven opened his mouth to object, but nothing came out except a small giggle. Even though the leather was pressing into his skin painfully, he couldn't do anything but laugh. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

When he opened them, Clyde had moved on to strapping Tweek in, leaving Craig face-to-face with the dead body. He stared into Kevin's lifeless eyes, feeling about as alive as the latter. He tried to imagine what it must have felt like to undergo an operation as bad and as sick as the one these two had to go through. He assumed that anesthesia wasn't used at any point in the operation, if the King had been in charge of it. He thought of the pain-Clyde's eyes glazing over in agony, horrid, blood-curdling screams, or desperate whimpers, escaping from his mouth, the black smoke pouring into other hallways from the operating table, the King meanwhile laughing at what he could hear from the throne room, the stitches popping and having to be sewn into the now ruined flesh again.

Craig giggled.

Tweek looked at him, a quizzical look in his eyes. Then again, Tweek always looked like he was questioning what you were thinking, because he couldn't speak for himself.

Craig ignored him, and looked over to see what Clyde was going to do next.

The brunette was hauling his massive body out of the room, returning several minutes later with two menacing-looking round metal objects. He clumsily put the metal object over Craig's head. Craig realized that this thing was a brace to keep himself in place. He knew some sort of torture was coming. He laughed again.

Again, Clyde did the same to Tweek, who protested. He must have undergone this torture before. He wondered how bad it really was.

Clyde waited patiently until Tweek had given up to strap him in, not saying a word. He hadn't spoken this whole time. It must've been either too much effort with the mass of a body hanging off his own, or else the King had ordered him not to. Craig waited for pain, but none came. Instead, a drop of water landed smack-dab in the middle of his forehead. He flinched, but otherwise did nothing. Another drop splashed down onto his head. His eyes flickered over to Tweek's, whose own were squeezed shut tightly. His whole body shook as another drop fell onto his head. Was the torture going to start, or what?

A muffled scream was heard coming from the inside Tweek's sealed mouth.

With that, Craig then realized. The drops of water were the torture. He was surprised. He expected the torture to be painful and bloody, not like this. In what way was this going to torture him? He didn't know.

Minutes passed. Then hours. The water kept on coming down methodically, a fat, round drop every few seconds. In the time that had passed, Craig had grown antsy and insecure, wanting to move his head to evade the water, but not being able to because of the brace that adorned it. He had to deal with the liquid interrupting his thoughts every moment, not being able to think validly. Craig realized that he much rather had had painful, bloody torture than this. This was hell.

Clyde seemed to know this, because he saw that Craig had been fidgeting and walked over.

His voice came in a breathy, labored whisper.

"You were expecting something better, weren't you?"

Craig tried to respond, but he screamed as another drop fell. Soon, more drops began to fall from his own eyes, stinging his cheeks to the point where he felt them burn.

"You wish you had been stretched. Twisted. Torn apart. Operated on. Well, let me tell you something."

Craig clenched his teeth, trying to stifle another cry.

"I wish I were you right now. I wish I didn't have my best friend sewn to me. I wish I didn't have to drag him around. I wish the King gave me what he gave you-water torture. Harmless, innocent water torture. Except it's not. It's horrible, isn't it?"

"I can't...think...anymore..." Craig managed to choke out between drops of water.

"You're lucky he chose this kind. He used it especially for that purpose, you know."

He raised his eyebrows. "Wh-what?"
"It's true." Clyde said quietly. "Let me let you in on a little secret. The King told me that, if he found you, he'd want to use water torture on you specifically, to drive you insane faster. He wants you to be a part of this place."

Did that mean what Craig thought it meant?

"He's seen you take on my friend and me. He's seen you find the Traveler. He's seen you do everything. He's been waiting for you to get here. Tweek was only bait."

He paused to let out a giggle, then continued.

"He knew you wouldn't come here of your own accord, so he took Tweek to lure you in. Tweek actually put up more of a fight than we thought, so we had to keep him under control until you got here. You were late, you know."

"So...so he thinks I need to...become...his..." Craig trailed off, unable to finish.

"He wants you to be like one of us." Clyde finished for him. "He really thinks you have potential."

"N-No..." Craig protested. "J-Just h-have him kill me off..."

"Not a chance." Clyde chuckled weakly, cringing. "We're going to make you two perfect. We're going to make you both even more powerful. The Doctor works wonders, you know. Just look at us."

Craig wasn't sure if Clyde was being sarcastic at that moment, or completely insane, but he knew that he'd rather die than become a slave to that wretched King.

The Traveler kicked, shoved, and tried any method of escape. He wasn't going to that operating table without a fight. The butterfly was never one to talk out resolutions, more of the type to obtain them by force. The Doctor, in turn, said nothing, and continued to drag The Traveler by the wrist down the grimy gray hallway. The walls of the hall were dirty and stained with who-knew-what. The Traveler grimaced.

A small light grew brighter as the walked down the seemingly endless hallway, until they stood right in front of it. The light burned The Traveler's eyes. He wanted so desperately to flash into his insect form, but neither his body nor mind would agree to do so. He knew what that meant.

The Doctor, unfazed by the other's reaction to the light, pulled The Traveler into the room. It, unlike all the others, wasn't as dirty. There lay a normal-looking operating table in the center of the room, with the only light in the room shining directly upon it. It made for a very creepy atmosphere. The Traveler noticed that, behind the table, there were cabinets, probably filled with all sorts of instruments of torture. The Doctor led The Traveler to the table, and shoved him harshly onto it. The Traveler never expected that much power ever to come from such a small person.

"Stay still." his soft voice demanded as he focused on strapping The Traveler's wrists to the sides of the table. After that was done, he left for a moment, presumably to get his operating instruments. When he returned, the Frenchman managed to look at what The Doctor had on the small tray he carried with him. There lay a needle and thread, a rather rusty-looking knife, a round red object, and a stack of shadowy objects that he couldn't see.

"You really are an insect, huh? Well, now you're going to look like one." The Doctor murmured, looking down at his patient with an almost apologetic stare.

The Traveler felt his suit jacket get sliced off by the knife, along with his shirt. The Doctor moved closer, closer, closer to his face, until they stared into each other's eyes. The only difference was that the blond was armed, and the brunette wasn't.

Without warning, Christophe's left eye was blinded. He felt his mouth open, but he couldn't hear the ear-shattering scream that came from it. What really intimidated him was the fact that, in his mind, he felt nothing. Nothing but numbness. His body was reacting to the pain, but his brain wasn't.

The Doctor grabbed the red object from the tray and held it up to Christophe's good eye.

"This is your video camera." he said calmly. Christophe had to admit-this boy seemed less crazy than everyone else here, but he knew he was kidding himself at the thought.

As quickly as it had disappeared, the sight in his left eye was regained. Something didn't feel right, though. It felt as if there were something watching his every move now. Someone that saw what he saw.

He knew the King could see everything.

Next, The Doctor grabbed the stack of shadowy objects and the needle and thread. Christophe didn't react to the needle digging into his skin. He didn't even notice.

Nor did he notice the black smoke that had begun to fill the room.

Craig watched as the Executioner-or, should he say, Executioners-left he and Tweek alone. He wanted to tell Tweek that everything would end soon, but he knew it'd all be a lie. Tweek's eyes were almost the signature perfect white that made a person insane. At least they didn't have video cameras.

Yet.

Craig began to wonder-what "surgery" was he going to have? Tweek had already gotten his mouth sewn shut. Clyde had gotten his shoulder and arm cut off, having the rest of himself sewn to a dead body. Craig automatically felt bad for killing Kevin. Clyde had no one to help him get around.

Then, Craig realized. What about Damien? He hadn't gotten operated on, had he? He had the "smile," but Craig knew that he made that one himself. What could The Doctor have done to alter him?

Maybe he was messed up enough, Craig thought. Maybe he was already crazy enough as he was, and the King didn't want to waste his time with "improvements."

And what about his "subconscious?" That face that had told him to think of home? It felt so familiar now, like he had known that face for his whole life. Maybe he did. He wanted to meet that face, to talk to it again, see if it could help him again. He needed it now. He needed some kind of condolence. Craig felt another water droplet fall, and the corner of his mouth turn upwards.

"Did someone need me?" He barely heard the voice before realizing whose it was.

"Dude! Over here! Haha!" Craig shifted his gaze over to where the voice came from. Tweek stared upward at the ceiling, lost in himself.

Standing in the middle of the room was a face Craig never would've liked to see until now.

His blond hair was tousled and his toothy grin was almost blinding. Though both his eyes were shining white, they held feeling, a sense of permanent amusement. He was dressed in jeans and an orange hoodie. Kenny hadn't changed since when they sat in the classroom, aside from the eyes.

"Damn, Craig!" he laughed. "You look like shit, man."

Craig was speechless at first, but, at the comment, he frowned. For some reason, he took that comment to heart. He knew he looked bad. He thought that Kenny looked bad. Who was he to judge if Craig looked bad? Craig had been through more than ever today, and this kid wasn't helping at all. With that smirk on his face, he just wanted to pull it off.

"Oh, shit. Wait, you've gone crazy, right? Sorry, dude. Didn't mean it." he said, walking closer to the raven to get a better look at him.

"Are you...?" Craig whispered.

"Yeah, I'm the guy you saw earlier." Kenny nodded. "And I'm insane, too, so it's all good."

"Then...why...?"

"Why am I not all fucked up?" Kenny asked. Craig felt a growl rise in his throat, but he nodded.

"I'm okay, because the King already dealt with me."

Craig lifted an eyebrow.

"Look, he drove me crazy and killed me, okay? But, since I can't ever fucking die..." he paused to groan. "I came back. The King didn't think I was 'smart' enough to give me a camera and all that shit, so he just killed me off. He doesn't know that I'm back, though."

Craig felt himself start to understand.

"But, seriously, dude, have you looked at yourself?" Kenny scoffed, eyeing Craig sympathetically.

"T-tell me...are my eyes...?" Craig trailed off.

Kenny seemed to know what Craig meant, and peered into his eyes. "Yeah, dude, you're pretty much there. Soon enough, the world's gonna start twisting around for you and shit. You're gonna be full-fledged batshit crazy soon, dude."

"What about Tweek?" he asked.

"He's done for, I think." Kenny sighed. "He's pretty zoned out right now. Like I was when I got water torture."

"K-Kenny...do you know...what the D-Doctor guy...what he's gonna do...to me?" Craig choked out, screaming as a drop of water hit his head.

"I've seen the plans he and the King are making. They want to do something pretty drastic." he cringed, but it still looked like a smile to Craig.

"Wh-what? Like the-the Executioners?" he stammered, hoping that he wouldn't have to endure that. The fact that The Doctor could do something that morally wrong made Craig nauseous.

"Oh, no." Kenny shook his head. "Not something like that. That would be a retarded idea, because they know you're meant for speed."

Craig narrowed his eyes, waiting for Kenny to continue.

"They've seen you kill off their guards earlier." he noted. "They know you're damn good with a sword and that you run fast. The plan for them is to replace your arms with swords and sew your mouth shut, since they think you ask too many questions." Kenny laughed at the last part.

Craig ignored him. "Jimmy...?" he breathed.

"Oh yeah! The crippled guy that was downstairs. Well, the King doesn't think he'd be a good addition to the team, so they're probably just going to kill him off and take his arms."

"His...arms."

"Yeah, they're going to use them for some big project they were doing. They were talking a lot about insects. I didn't catch much of it."

Even in this stage in the progression of losing his mind, Craig knew exactly what was going to happen to Christophe in that operating room.

The last stitch finally was put into place, but Christophe felt nothing, still. He felt like his mind and his body were seperate people now. Like he was staring down at himself, in an outer-body experience.

The Doctor finally pulled away from The Traveler's side, finished with his work.

"You're finished, Traveler." he said, smiling sadly down at his work. "Stand up and look in the mirror."

Christophe shakily stood, trying to balance himself. He felt more weighed down, but not as if there were something hanging off him. He ruled out being sewn to another person. That wasn't the case.

The mirror was cracked, but when he saw himself, he didn't know what to say.

Christophe's face looked the same, one of his hazel eyes now replaced by a red one. His bare chest was also the same. It was what came off of it that fascinated him.

Right where his ribs were, he had a second pair of arms. These two looked thinner and weaker than his original, muscular ones. The pale skin contrasted with his olive tan. Right above his waist, he had a third pair. These two looked different in color, but they had generally identical structure.

"We wanted you to be an insect, inside and out." The Doctor said softly. "We wanted to expose you for what you are. Nothing but an insect."

The cold words were shocking, but Christophe ignored them. He tried to move one of the fingers on his left side. It moved normally, like any normal pair of arms would.

"We tried to be efficient. The thin ones are courtesy of the boy downstairs."

Christophe tried to remember, his mind clouded with new, irrelevant thoughts. He vaguely remembered a boy with weak arms and crutches, but decided that that wasn't important.

"The last two are from the Executioners. They each needed one arm amputated. We kept them specifically for you."

Christophe marveled at how good a job The Doctor had done. He didn't think of how much pain he was in right now. He didn't think about Craig.

His pristine white eyes glimmered with nothing but madness.

Yay! I did it! I finished this chapter! Woot woot!

I really like The Doctor for some reason. And what about Kenny, hmm? Isn't he fabulous?

Well, there's nothing you can really predict now, but I really, really love your feedback, so please try to review! Okay, I'm gonna go be happy now. Till next chapter! :D