Disclaimer: I, the Co-Authoress of this story, do not sadly own any rights to Devil May Cry, Or, in fact, American Mcgee's take on Alice in Wonderland. Sadly. Because this crossover makes too much sense, and would be made canon, if such was in our power.

What was originally a humble GaiaOnline roleplay has now given birth or a behemoth tale of madness, blood, sweat tears, and tea parties in abundance. Hold on folks, it's a long and bumpy ride.

But it's worth it. I promise you.

Pulling out a tarnished pocket watch, the man frowned down at his reflection in its face. This was an unusual form, something he wasn't entirely used to. After all, in this world, were he to run around as himself—well, it wouldn't be looked upon all too highly. The last time he'd traveled this realm in this form was for her. That had been so long ago though now and, as much as they'd depended on her in the past—she couldn't save them now.

At least, not alone.

He didn't have much time. This would have to work and it would have to work fast. He had traveled far to make it to his destination (with more than a few bumps along the way). The Queen had done her research, they had found the target and now it was his job to acquire the person they needed. The mere thought had him shaking with anxiety. He was already a twitchy creature, his nose near constant in it's movement. This, however, was a whole new level of danger he was putting himself into.

Of course, danger with a purpose was better than lying down and dying. He, like many of the rest of them, had no intention of going down without a fight. They were all depending on him to do his part and so, he would try. Pulling his red jacket tighter around his shivering form, he tried to puff out his chest. He was the one with the upper hand here. He wouldn't leave until he got his way—or until the target filled him with bullet holes. With a deep breath, he pushed against the grimy door he'd been pacing in front of for the last ten minutes, eager to get this whole ordeal done and over with.

Upon entering the establishment, the smell of stale beer and greasy pizza stung his nostrils. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, a lazy tendril of smoke rising from an ignored ashtray on the desk before him. A large pair of boots were propped up on the desk, leading to a long pair of legs crossed at the ankles. Those legs belonged to his target, a man sitting so that he was balanced on the back two legs of his chair, a magazine draped over his face. Beneath the tattered pages of "Playboy" were strands of silvered hair and a stubbled chin. The target appeared to be asleep but the visitor was positive that appearances were highly deceiving.

After all, he himself wasn't normally so…human.

Softly, he cleared his throat. Despite his best attempts at being firm and forward, his voice still warbled when he spoke up. "I have a job for you."

The magazine slid down the target's face revealing a pair of sharp sapphire eyes, a straight nose, and a single raised brow. The target tilted his head slightly as he looked the visitor up and down, a hint of amusement tugging at the right corner of his mouth. He had met a lot of strange people in his life but this guy took the prize. Decked out in some sort of red overcoat with a white tuxedo shirt and black slacks, the guy looked ready to go to some sort of theme party. Instead of looking ready for any amount of fun however, his face was dreadfully serious and…twitching?

Pulling his feet from the desk, he sat the chair back in it's normal position and leaned forward on his elbows. "A job?" He asked, obviously not able to take the guy before him seriously. "You do know what kind of business I'm in, right?" This guy looked as if he needed a caterer...not a demon hunter.

Hands shaking, the visitor nodded. "Y-Yes...that's why I've c-come here," he stuttered. He could curse himself for showing such obvious fear. However, his pride had no place in the matter. This man was their target and he couldn't let something small like fear stand in the way of retrieving him for the Queen.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small pistol and aimed it at the man behind the desk, pulling the trigger. This probably wasn't the smartest option but it was all he could do. Or, rather, it was all his hands could do. He'd meant to simply point the gun and act as threatening as possible (not an easy task, considering his species), but he'd been shaking so badly at merely holding the weapon that he'd squeezed the trigger. Trembling, he watched as the bullet hit its mark, piercing the target low in his left shoulder. He knew it would get the attention he needed without having to explain more than was necessary. He'd been warned.

The Hunter is quick to temper. Be careful with your words—but use this to your advantage, if you must.

Doing what he did best, he hopped to his feet and bolted out the door, hoping with all of his heart that the target would chase him. Never had he wanted to be pursued so badly in all of his life but, if this man didn't follow him, their plan would be a failure.

And truly, believing was so much easier with physical evidence on display.

"The hell...?" Reaching up to touch his shoulder, the Hunter rolled his eyes. Was there a sign on his door that said, 'C'mon in to Devil May Cry...the boss loves to be impaled, shot at, and pummeled'? Or, perhaps it was national 'Attack Dante Redgrave without giving a Reason' day. He swore the mayor had written that little holiday into effect years ago. Getting to his feet, he leaned over the desk and grimaced as the bullet fell out of his shoulder, hitting the scarred wood with a soft 'ping'. A healing factor was great but that didn't mean it couldn't hurt like a bitch. There was no way he was letting that twitchy little man get away with shooting him—at least, not without good explanation. Time to give chase.

Running out the door after his attacker (and what a pathetic feeling that was. He'd been attacked by a guy in a fuckin' tuxedo shirt!), he found it easy to keep up with him. Turning a corner and reaching forward, his fingers just found their grip on the back of the man's collar as he was pulled into what could only be described as a portal. Green and swirling with energy, he didn't have time to think twice before he was sucked through to the other side.

Landing with a hard thud, his head hit the ground with a crack and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the man scurrying off into the distance. Through his blurry gaze, eh swore the man had changed though. White ears and a cotton tail…like a rabbit. And it was less of a run as he escaped and more of a…hop. Before he could conjure up anything more brilliant than that, the darkness swamped his mind and he gave in to the loss of consciousness.

When he started to come around, the first thing he noticed was the pounding of his head. Slowly, he slid his hand along the ground until it reached his head. His calloused fingers searched through his silver hair, finding the protruding goose egg and wincing. Pushing himself upright, he forced his eyes open, blinking away the blurriness from his vision as he tried to get a look at his surroundings. "Damned idiot…where's he led me off to?"

Not that he could really lay blame on the assailant. He was the one who'd given chase, who'd fallen into a portal. It wasn't the first time he'd gone face first into a big ol' pile of trouble.

Getting to his feet, Dante looked around, pushing his jagged locks from his eyes. Wherever he had landed, it was looking pretty rundown. The ground beneath him was covered in inches upon inches of dust, the walls barely standing around him. With the toe of his boot, he pushed open the door in front of him, smirking when it fell straight off of it's rusted hinges and smashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust in it's wake.

Walking out of the building, Dante realized he was in a ghost town, all of the buildings equally dilapidated and abandoned. Beyond the village was a wild and overgrown forest, dark enough to even make the Devil take pause. Cautiously, he moved his hands to rest on the grips of his twin pistols. Despite the abandoned look of this place, he'd learned his lesson in the past. It was best never to walk into a situation unarmed.

Scanning the area for signs of life, his gaze hardening as he caught sight of something white and fluffy up ahead of him. It took three long steps for him to tower over the creature and even less to pick it up by the collar of it's jacket, bringing them nose to nose. "I'm not sure where we're at but there is only room for one of us to rock this look," he muttered, gesturing down to his own jacket, red and leather, the tail trailing out behind him. "Let's be honest, I'm doing a better job of it."

He'd been expecting to be face to face with the man who had attacked him in his shop. Instead, he found himself up against a well-dressed rabbit, twitching and struggling in his grasp, clearly terrified as his little legs swung in the air. "I'm s-s-s-sorry for harming you but I had to get you here. I had to g-g-get you to f-f-follow me! You have to help us. Wonderland is cursed!"

"Great, glad to hear it but that's not my problem to deal with, buddy. I'm a little more focused on dealing with the asshole who thinks it's alright to walk into my shop and open fire."

"I-I-I swear, I meant you no true harm, D-D-D—ah!"

The rabbit dropped from his grasp as a blade went whizzing past his head, right between his face and the creature he'd been questioning before embedding itself in the doorframe behind him. Sparking with a purple sort of energy, the blade was covered in dried flecks of blood and engraved with an intricate design. It was small, like a chef's knife almost—but deadly sharp.

It figured. While he'd been busy questioning the fluffy little bunny, the real threat had arrived.