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Ultimately, the guards left him in his cell. He wouldn’t be clueless to why he was kept idle, however; a puddle on the ground that a guard stepped in on his way out splattered conveniently into a message that, should the light have reflected on properly from the right viewpoint, would say, “Error, please try again later.” It seemed that, as penalty for his incorrect choice earlier on, he would have to wait until his companion got far enough before he could progress, instead left in a helpless waiting situation until then. It seemed to mock him, however, as he would find the puddle itself reflecting him with a beard and long hair, accompanied with a sudden feeling of hunger, thirst, and fatigue, like he’d been in there for longer than he knew.

Meanwhile at the Mad Tea Party, directions were due. “He went that way,” said the Mad Hatter, pointing plainly at a trail that suddenly became clearer, depicting a road to a castle far along in the distance, with an odd design based on the hearts of cards. While the world was odd and somewhat mocking, there didn’t seem to be anything quite threatening yet, no encounter that really called for intense alarm; the sound of a monster behind was gone.

When “Alice” arrived at the large castle, the guards peered down from her at the drawbridge. It was difficult to say how she ended up at the drawbridge in particular; the things she was seeing weren’t exactly in her control. However, the rabbit was seen crossing the drawbridge moments before it was lifted. As soon as she neared, one of two guards spoke. “Are you here to advise the queen for the execution?” asked the guard. “If not, be on your way,” he stated sternly.

The guard seemed unconvinced. “Are you sure? You don’t look like an advisor.”

However, another guard quickly interrupted. “What does an advisor look like?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“What does she look like then, if she isn’t the advisor?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” he repeated.

“She must be the advisor then.” It didn’t quite seem to make sense, but enough so to convince the other. With their banter concluded, they tapped their pikes on the ground in unison and the gates swung open, opening the way for a wide courtyard with luscious red, black, and white coloring, from the fountains, to the benches, to the thick rose bushes. The White Rabbit peered around a rose bush, only its head around as she gazed at “Alice” blankly for a few moments and disappeared behind it.

If “Alice” were to approach the Rabbit’s previous location, she’d find a path leading towards an audience, all of whom were seated and gazing at her, intense stares from frighteningly empty eyes. Nearly everyone had these eyes, which was especially true for the executioner, whose eyes could be seen through the menacing vestige covering his face, axe in hand and ready to descend on woeful victims. “Justice is blind,” read a message in the dirt before her, though if she blinked the message would disappear. The one exception was the Red Queen. Her face was square-shaped, but it did not subtract from her..murderous beauty. Her eyes were lively, but her gaze suggested she was looking to see someone’s head parted from their necks, but at least she looked delightful in her red dress. Death was sport, death was kind. Looks could kill, and she divine.

When she turned her head (much later than her audience), her cold blue eyes all but vanquished the sun, and she said firmly, “You are the Advisor, and I the Queen. Advise me now,” she looked at the guards. “Prepare the scene.” It was odd really. From the beginning of her quest, she’d diverged further and further from who she was, at least in terms of who precisely she met and who told her who she was.

Beneath in the dungeons, the guards brought forth the two prisoners, the stranger of whom spared few words with Owen, and Owen himself. Both were bound by chains and forced on their knees before the Queen’s Court. “Behold the Duchess and the Knave of Hearts. He who steals tarts and she who eats them. Who to live and who to die? One hello, the other goodbye,” said the Queen, looking to the Advisor.

Suddenly, their adversary—or “host” as he thought himself—appeared from thin air, standing a couple feet from them, twirling his cane for a moment before bringing it to a stop. “Well done, my friends. I was wondering when someone would figure it out, but they just kept picking each other off.” In short, none of the previous “contenders” were clever enough to realize they were in a position to provide an alternative, and instead were responsible for the execution of their predecessors.

And so, what was right was what remained, and what remained was an illusion. After determining her own solution than those presented, the illusory world around them faded before their eyes (clothes and bindings alike), leaving things as the warehouse they expected, and an officer (the female stranger from before) bound to a chair. However, the true horror came in the direction where an audience once stood, the same expressionless audience that observed the false execution. It seemed the audience was composed of the dead would-be saviors, lifeless cadavers faced in their direction.

“Yeah....fine.” Aethon answered Owen offhandedly. Her eyes fell on the crowd of corpses. "Now that's messed up. If there was ever a case to kill a guy..." Andrea left the rest unsaid in her on going argument with Owen. If she had just gone for the kill with the Waxman instead of trying to take him alive none of what had happened to her would have happened. Kat had healed most of the damage, save for the knife wound on her left shoulder which had now scared over. A daily reminder. There was something else Kat couldn't heal. The mental scaring. She glanced around the room full of props and special effects equipment that had suddenly revealed itself, while Owen attended to the officer tied to the chair. There was something missing though. While the whole thing had been far to fantastical to really believe, it had looked real. Far to real for just stage props and special effects. "Soooo.....that was a thing that happened."

“Aye aye captain.” Andrea gave a mock salute, her voice dripping with sarcasm, before she turn on her heel and strode towards the exit. The Horsemen were supposed to be a team, but Owen had seemed to decide he was the leader and could just order the other three about as he pleased. If it had been up to Andrea they have run some kind of actual test on the air and investigated the building to find out what exactly they were dealing. “You know buddy is still probably watching and knows your plan now.” She called over her shoulder. “Also different kinds of gas require different filters, so you might want to consider figuring out what he actually used.” She shouldn't have said anything, Andrea thought sullenly. Just blindly follow Owen's orders and let the mission fail when he picked the wrong kind of filter to put in their masks. She should start her own Horsemen where they were actually a team and not Owen and Friends. She had chosen her words carefully. 'Your plan.' 'You should consider.' Because Owen sure didn't treat her like an equal, just someone he could boss around. Not even so much as a thank you for saving his a**. Deep down she knew she would do neither of those things though.

Katrina paused slightly as Andrea stalked passed her, glancing back to watch the younger woman head towards the entrance for a second, before continuing her way over to Owen. “Nergal said you might need to be healed?” She asked somewhat cautiously. Andrea had seemed fine physically, if rather upset. It wasn't exactly the time or place to discuss it, but it didn't mean she wasn't concerned.

Katrina was honestly caught of guard by the statement. Owen and Andrea had been having problems since she had joined the team. The divide had slowly been growing worse as time went on, and while Kat had done her best not to get involved with it, it was difficult to avoid on the small four person team who spent almost all of their time together. Still benching Andrea seemed like an extreme step which would only make the situation infinity worse. “I don't think it's an issue with authority.” She began cautiously. Hopefully Owen would catch the implication that it was a more personal issue. “I think it would be better if you sat down and talked to her about what really has her upset. Really listen to her and be patient if she's rude or sarcastic about it. Remember she's young. I doubt everything you did at that age was entirely rational and mature, especially when hurt.” Of course Katrina had never been young so she had no personal experiences to draw from, but it didn't mean she couldn't empathize. There seemed to be some level of fault on both sides, but Owen was the adult and if he wanted this team to work he was going to have to step up.