Chapter X: Giving In to Madness
"Oh, dear, oh dear, we're late...we are so, so late...we're late, late, late…!"
"Late for what?!" snapped the Cheshire Cat with his fangs bared angrily.
"I didn't mean punctuality!" the White Rabbit said, morbidly.
"Who were you talking to, Professor?"
"A Terrpillac?"
"A what?"
"Terrpillac. None amongst the Terrpillac race possessed an individual designation. Rather, as a means of identification, members of this primarily telepathic people each had a unique biopsycho-imprint that meant any recipient literally knew who they were talking to without any need of any physical projection, from sounds to image. However such projection was usually cast as a means of courtesy to the many outside races who might be off put by the idea of a disembodied influence extending and manifesting itself inside their head...and why am I explaining all this?! We're in danger!"
"Sorry. Got a plan, Professor?"
"As a matter of fact, Ace, I do," the Doctor replied, then turned to the Dodo, who was standing nearby. "I suggest you rrreturn to your master now; don't need you getting into the muck of this mess."
"Thank you, Do-Do-Doctor. Goodbye, and good luck," the Dodo said with a bow. The avian life form waddled away, vanishing behind the curtain for the last time.
"So, what is our strategy, then, Time?" asked Cheshire.
"There are two steps to my plan."
"And they are…?"
"Well, step one you might call a 'tactical retreat.'"
"You don't mean to say we outrun them? Nothing can outrun a Raston, you know that!"
"Not we, Cheshire. You."
"...Me?"
"No, no, not just you! I mean ALL of you!"
"...You want me and the rest of the group to outrun Rastons."
"No, just hide from them!"
"You cannot hide from them anymore than you can outrun them, Doctor! It doesn't make any sense!"
"Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves. Cheshire, the Cards aren't after any of you, as far as I'm aware! It's me the Mad Hatter wants. And I'm going to give him just that."
"You're going to surrender?!" Ace exclaimed.
"Something like that, yes," said the Doctor with a shrug.
"But...but he'll KILL you!"
"He hardly seems the type," the Doctor responded darkly. "Not without gloating for an hour, first, anyway."
"Doctor, this is madness!" the Cat roared, looking about half ready to strangle the Time Lord in frustration.
The Doctor got right up into the Cheshire Cat's face and looked him dead in the eye.
"What did you say, Grand Chz'zhur, to a human boy named Charles, so many, many years ago?"
"...Oh."
"'Oh.' Right. Good kitten," the Doctor mumbled, rolling his eyes. He then turned to Ace, sternly. "Now, I mean it this time; when I tell you to stay put, stay put. Right?"
"Wrong."
The Doctor groaned.
"But, Professor-!"
"Ace, this is neither the time nor the place for a proper argument!"
"You started it!"
"No, I didn't! I just told you to stay put!"
"Oh, yes...after telling me you're going to give yourself up to some looney in a funny hat who wants to alter the course of time!"
"...All right, good point, but-"
"Professor, I can't let you do this! I can't sit idly here; you'll get hurt, or worse, and-"
"LISTEN TO ME, ACE!" the Doctor suddenly shouted as he grabbed her by the shoulders, and causing much of the party—the Queen excluded, as her mind was otherwise preoccupied—to jump in surprise. "This is bigger...bigger than me, bigger than you, even bigger than Wonderland! This is a private war, and if the Hatter wins, everything's over! Galaxies, solar systems, planets, civilizations…billions upon trillions of lives will be extinguished before they can even get a glimpse past what their tiny shells and eyes can comprehend! And all because the aforementioned 'looney in a funny hat' decided he needed a new toy to play with! Now, I have an idea how I might possibly halt his plans, but to make it work properly, with as little risk as possible, I ought to go back to him, and I will go back alone!"
He took a few deep breaths, then released her. The Doctor then seated himself again on the rock nearby, pinching his brow, now marked with perspiration and anguish.
"...Doctor…"
"What is it now, Cheshire?"
"Do you really think you stand any better chance returning to the dungeons from which we freed you?"
"Sanity bears no mark on the insane mind, my friend. Now, will you all just-"
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
A long, shrill, squealing sound caught the attention of all. The Cheshire Cat snapped out his cloaking device, and gulped.
"The batteries are dead," he hissed.
"Oh, dear! That's just what we need," the Doctor grumbled, before addressing the entire party. "It appears as though events have accelerrrated beyond my anticipated calculations, and, therefore, so must our plan. In short: take cover!"
"No need to tell us twice!" the King declared, as he dragged to Queen over to some bushes.
The White Rabbit panted, glancing around, before jumping behind a rock and curling up behind it.
Ace latched onto the Doctor's jacket.
"Professor…"
"Ace, go!"
The girl shook her head in defiance.
"Cheshire, take care of her!"
"No sooner said than done!" the Cheshire Cat growled, then grabbed onto the girl's backpack and dragged her after him into a dry river bed a just a few feet away.
"DOCTOR!" she cried out, then fell silent as the cat shushed her.
As soon as they had all taken shelter, the Doctor ran forward a few steps, then turned to the sky, as if summoning the powers of the air to his side.
"HELLO!" he bellowed. "OLLY-OLLY-OXEN-FREE! HERE I AM, YOU STRINGLESS PUPPETS! IT'S ME YOU WANT, EH? COME ON!"
A hand went to his shoulder. He whipped around.
The Doctor smiled as a faceless, battered silver head stared back.
"Ah," he grinned. "Good to see I have your attention. Took you long enough. Now…" he held out his arms, as if expecting to be handcuffed, "Take me to your leader, as it were!"
"Not so easy as that, Time."
The Doctor turned back again.
The March Hare and the Dormouse approached, each flanked by a Raston Guard.
He grinned wider.
"Excellent! Finally, two to talk to!"
He paused.
"...Well, one to talk to, anyway."
"Enough," the March Hare said, coldly. Then, suddenly, the deranged Hare became all smiles and sunshine again as he continued, polite as punch. "As instructed by King Hatter, if we were to find you, we are—or, rather, I am—to kindly persuade you to lend us the Looking-Glass, so that we can at last be free and march to the beat of our own drums!"
The Doctor sighed.
"Oh, it figures...reciting that crazed dogma again. Why, you two are no better than these empty shells," he went on, pointing at the Rastons as he spoke, "Blindly following any order they-"
He froze as a katana pointed directly at his lips.
In the shelter of the bank, peeking just over the edge, the Cheshire Cat hissed quietly.
"Now there's a mouse I'd love to play with…"
"Doctor!" Ace whispered.
The March Hare, who had thankfully failed to notice the inhabitants of the bank, just grinned at the Doctor, chipper as a chipmunk.
"What's the matter, Time? Rat got your tongue?"
The Dormouse turned her head toward the Hare silently. The Hare shrugged.
"So sorry, Dorma...it was too easy for me to pass up."
The Dormouse did not respond, but returned her veiled gaze to the Doctor.
"I'd watch my tongue if I were you, Doctor," the Hare added, his smile a little less bright. "It won't look so nice flopping about in the dirt. And I am appalled, sir," he said, arms crossed stiffly, "That you would insinuate that we are 'blind shells!' I cannot speak for Dorma, here...and I think her blade speaks for herself...but I, for one, am just part of the avant garde! I just want to make this Madhouse a bit more tolerable to take!"
"Really? Well then, Haigha, tell me this: if you succeed…"
"Which we will…"
"...What's your part in this scheme? After the lock is broken and the TARDIS yours, what will you do?"
The Hare pondered this, scratching one of his long ears briefly.
"Hmm...well," he said at length, holding up a gloved finger and smiling giddily, "Hatta said that if I was good—and I have been—I could have a galaxy all to my own to play with!"
"Indeed. And how, exactly, are you going to play with it? What do you want to do?"
The Hare giggled childishly.
"Sorry...haven't gotten that far yet...say, what is this all about, anyway? What are you getting at?"
"I am trying to give you, Haigha, a chance to do something you clearly haven't done in a long, long time."
"...Juggle spatulas while wearing a banana peel on my head and balancing on a tightrope?"
"NO. Think things through."
"Oh, now where's the fun in that? I live in the moment! A moment which, by the way, thanks to you, has not been much of a life at all. No matter! Soon it will begin again! So, enough preliminaries, Time...where is the key?"
The Doctor tilted his head.
"Key?" he cooed, innocently. "What key?"
The Hare sneered.
"I'm a mad hare, sir, not a moron. Where is it?"
"I'm afraid that I haven't the slightest notion about what you're talking about."
The Hare smirked.
"What if I have Dorma pierce both your lungs? Would you know then?"
"No, I'd be dead, quite frankly."
"Yes, but you'd regenerate, wouldn't you? Hatta says you would…"
"Even then, I would never tell you."
"Ah, but I could have her cut up your lungs over and over, until you have only one life left. I've no compunctions in doing so. You would have to tell me then, wouldn't you?"
"No, Haigha, I would not. I think I would prefer a hundred deaths over whatever you and the Hatter are planning to do with my TARDIS."
The March Hare suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the Doctor by the collar as the Dormouse lowered her blade. His pink eyes burned with a deranged, desperate light.
"I am NOT going back to Hatta without that key," he snarled.
"Well, it looks like you just might have to," the Doctor retorted.
The Hare glowered, and shook his head, releasing the Doctor and stepping back.
"No," he said, darkly. "I'm not. You say you'd rather die a hundred deaths? So be it, then; the Mad Hatter told me to get that key, and gave me permission to destroy you...no matter how long it takes. So..."
He raised a hand, and the Rastons flicked out their blades.
"Quiet on the set! Take one..."
"NO!" cried a voice from the bank.
The Doctor groaned aloud, knowing full well what was coming...
Why can't that girl JUST. STAY. PUT?!
Before the Cheshire Cat, or anybody else, could stop her, Ace leapt from the pit and ran forward with her bat held like a sword in her hands. She swung blindly at the Rastons that held the Doctor, only for them to vanish.
The robots that once surrounded the Doctor, now surrounded her, holding her captive.
The March Hare grinned, large front teeth like ivory axe blades.
"Well," he smiled, pleasantly, "Isn't this delightful! Looks like we've got the key to Time after all, eh, Dorma?"
The Dormouse, as usual, was silent.
The Hare chuckled, and looked at the Doctor. Casually sticking his gloved hands into his pockets, the Hare's ears flicked in sheer joy.
"Now, my selfless friend, I think I have the answer to our problem: I know your kind, and I know you wouldn't mind being the sacrificial lamb...but what of your sweet companion? Will you risk her life, or surrender the key?"
The Doctor growled, frozen in place.
The Hare giggled childishly.
"Oh, this is just too entertaining...the suspense is KILLING me...HA HA HA HA HA HA!"
Oh, no!
Which will the Doctor choose?!
His companion? Or the end of Time itself?!
Things have certainly taken a turn for the worst...but it isn't checkmate yet!
Will Ace be saved, or is it nearly time for her execution?
Will the Mad Hatter's scheme soon be fulfilled?
The answer to these questions and more, in the fourth and final installment of "Doctor Who: Descent Into Madness!"
Same Van-Time! Same Hat-Channel!
…
J: Ha! There now! Straight fifty-fifty!
VS: So I see.
J: Well, are you happy with it?
VS: ...No. Are you?
J: ...No.
Both: HOORAY! IT'S PERFECT!
J: Well, darling readers, we are nearly finished! One last ten-chapter part to go, and the descent shall end!
VS (in the Royal Canterlot Voice):"Ha HA! THE FUN HAS BEEN DOUBLED!"
J: ...Okay, first off, that made no sense…
VS: "Make sense?! Oh, what fun is there in making sense?"
J: ...Okay, I'll let that one slide...BUT, second off, if you EVER say the first quote again, I shall turn you into a mouse and feed you to the nearest Cheshire Cat.
VS: You wouldn't dare!
J: ...Um...actually, yes. Yes, I would. However, in the spirit of good sportsmanship, you may decide which one I shall feed you to...if the need arises.
VS: Well, Richard Kuhlman's seems the most friendly...if you disregard the outtakes…
J: You're learning.
VS: Well, anyway, join us next time for the Final Problem, so to speak, of "Doctor Who: Descent Into Madness!"
J: That is, if the Brony survives that long...mwa ha ha…
VS: ...Pinkie Pie Mustard Chimicherrychanga…
J: SILENCE!