"He's a freedom fighter, a resistance fighter-type thing. And he plays everybody off everyone else. He's very intelligent. He's not very mad at all; he's very shabby in the world that he lives in and he's spent his life, like I say in the script, playing both sides of the court, really. But he doesn't want to. I don't think that he ever wanted to. I think that's just the world that he thought he had to live in. Then meeting Alice obviously shows him another side to a world that I suppose he's never even seen. I think that becomes quite he kind of starts to fall in love with the life or the beliefs that she has. He really starts to really respect them, and it makes him question his own journey even more."
Andrew-Lee Potts on his character, Hatter, during his interview with Chicago Now, "Andrew-Lee Potts Goes Mad Hatter for 'Alice'."
Disclaimer: The characters and plot of the mini-series Alice belongs to its creators, not me.
It's been done, it's been redone, and it's been done in other languages. Now it's my turn. Enjoy.
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On the other side of a forgotten mirror in the workroom of an abandoned warehouse, there existed an entire universe of fanciful creatures and people.
However, this land was ruled by an evil monarch who chose to control her subjects through drug-like teas that mirrored human emotions. These emotions were harvested from humans themselves, stolen from the other side of the mirror.
In the capital city of this kingdom, a young man with a colorful past sat down to another day's work, unaware of the epic quest ahead…
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Hatter frowned as he read the message a Two had brought over before opening. It seemed like the Looking Glass was down for repairs. Even as a low-level tea pusher Hatter knew that was code for something much more sinister, but he didn't know what.
P'raps I'll pop down to the Library later, give 'em the news, Hatter thought rather indifferently. Then again, p'raps not. Tensions with the Resistance had been running high lately and Hatter had no desire to be the bearer of such news. There wasn't enough profit in it for him.
The door to his office oasis opened, but Hatter didn't move. His headphones were still on, but no music had been playing. The reel was simply three hours of silence, a commodity more precious—although not as profitable—than tea to the con artist.
By the shifty steps and odor he could already smell, Hatter knew it wasn't Dormie. With his back still turned, Hatter took a sip of tea as he wondered why Ratty was bothering him so early in the day.
The slightest sound of a boot resting on the carpeting finally elicited a response. Hatter removed his headphones and turned to face the rodent catcher as he spoke.
"Not on the grass, Ratty. What do you want?" Snatching the porkpie he'd left lying on the desk, Hatter finally looked at his sometimes contact…and raised an eyebrow at what he saw.
Now, Ratty was a rat. It was just that simple. He scurried around the underbelly of the city like a worm-tailed rodent, sniffing out juicy morsels for a spot of tea from Hatter. Normally the man-creature was jittery, courtesy of a withdrawal he never seemed to shake, but that day he seemed to be vibrating with as much glee as a 'Lander could without hurting themselves. Hatter's snappy comment hadn't even diminished his mood: Ratty was too focused on how much tea his prize would get him.
He was so engrossed in his liquid-laden fantasies that Hatter had to intervene. Deliberately, his right hand began snapping to get Ratty's attention.
"Ratty, time is tea. Gimme what you've got or get the hell out."
Ratty started and pulled off his hat to worry in his hands.
"Hatter, I need you to see this."
Said man rolled his eyes, but his curiosity had been piqued. Ratty was all about Ratty 24/7: if he had physically brought something to share, it was probably big. However, Hatter was ever the businessman by letting his faux skepticism show.
"You're not gonna whip out your willy on me, are you? I promised you a good clock in the ticker if you did it again."
But Ratty was emphatically shaking his head. Raising his eyebrow again, Hatter held out his hand for whatever message the rodent had scavenged.
"Alright, give it here. I'll take a look and decide your payment."
Another headshake was cut off as Hatter began to glare at Ratty, who proceeded to give the most winning smile he could muster. It was disgusting.
"S'not a what, it's a who. An Oyster girl."
Only years of dealing with unexpected news kept Hatter's face neutral. An Oyster? There had to be a catch. And it hit him:
"Rat, I don't want a dried up husk of a human." It was the only reason he could think of for Ratty. Used up humans were normally…disposed of, but it looked like Ratty had saved a wretched soul. Or so he thought.
"She ain't. Fished her out of the river. She's got shoes and her brains. Looking fer sumfin."
At the rate Hatter's eyebrow was rising, perhaps it would physically detach itself and fly away. Unable to think of anything else, Hatter shooed Ratty out to retrieve his "Oyster." Cautiously, he sat with his back to the door once more and sipped his tea.
An Oyster? Here, in his shop? That could be very bad. Then again, Hatter mused, it could be a test from the queen. Expression darkening, Hater considered the outcome if the "Oyster" turned out to be a suit or other agent on the royal payroll.
I could take 'er to the casino and pass the test with flying colors. Or I could kill her and Ratty before the grass. Last, I could take 'er to the Library and let Dodo pick 'er brain. That one'd get me both in the clear and back in his graces, so to speak.
Only the first path allowed for a real profit, but a little niggle in his mind asked what he would do if the girl really was a human.
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Another pair of footsteps followed Ratty's into Hatter's office. These were lighter, almost wary feet. Whoever she is, she's already convincing, Hatter thought with grim amusement.
Breathing, he slipped calmly into his role as the charming drug dealer.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Voice like honey, Hatter couldn't help but grin as he toyed with his new visitor.
"No thank you…Who are you?"
Her voice would have been surprisingly nice, if it hadn't been for the fear and muted anger that laced her tone.
Hatter slowly swiveled in his chair, mindful of the headphones still attached to the back. She had a nice body too, but perhaps the sheer wetness of her being spoke to a bias. Fished her out, indeed.
"A friend, I hope. I run the tea shop."
Ratty had removed a tattered rag from her arm to reveal the true test: an Oyster tattoo.
"See?" Ratty coupled the word with a pointless gesture to the giant green marking on the woman's otherwise unblemished skin. Hatter covered his sharp intake of breath by forcefully grabbing the arms of his chair to right himself. The next two minutes had the potential to determine a lot of things, including Hatter's right to live.
"How did you break out'a scarab?"
"What, the beetle thing?"
A grunt was her only response as Hatter stood with his back to the woman, disbelief crossing his face. The niggle suggested that she was the real deal, but Hatter didn't trust niggles all that often.
"Well, I used my hairpin and—"
"Fell," there was a trace of amusement in Hatter's tone, but it was mainly to hide his awe at this Oyster. A bloody hairpin had picked a honeycomb crate. Wonders would never cease. The woman chose not to comment on the thinly veiled tone of his voice.
"As you can see, I'm drenched."
And Hatter could see…and took extra care to make sure he saw every bit of it. She was soaked from head to toe, and it would take a lot less than that to make a man's blood fizz under his skin. Hatter was torn between being amused and aroused by this woman, but her irritation had apparently reached its limit. Frustration colored her tone.
"Look, this place, where…what is it?"
He responded without a second thought, "Oh. Wonderland." Then he mentally slapped himself.
Damn. This chit was taking control of the conversation. Hatter hadn't meant to tell her where she was. Bloody Oyster chit. Thankfully, the girl didn't notice. She was too busy doing her best not to gape.
"That's a story in a kid's book."
Eyes narrowed, Hatter responded with steel in his tone.
"Does this look like a kid's story to you?"
As the woman sputtered a negative response, Hatter supposed it was time to check up on that tattoo. Grabbing a magnifying glass, he continued to chat her up as he sauntered over for an inspection.
"It's changed a lot since then."
The glare she shot him as he approached would make lesser men cower. But not Hatter.
"What, so you're saying that it's real?" The woman's disbelief was palpable, but Hatter paid it no mind.
"You oysters don't know how to find us, so—excuse me—you tell yourselves that we don't exist. And quite frankly'd like to keep it that way."
He peered at the elaborate marking on the feisty girl. There was no mistaking it. The tattoo was real. Every swirl and line looked burned into her arm. Hatter couldn't see any ink marks or traces that the tattoo had been applied by a person. This girl, whoever she was, was human. And that fact seemed to piss her off as she ripped her arm out of his grasp.
"Why am I an Oyster?" She motioned to the tattoo on her forearm. "This?"
"That's not gonna come off. Sorry," Hatter allowed himself an 'oops' smile when her glare directed itself at the tattoo, and then deigned to explain why. "Only people from your world turn green when burned by the light. It's the Suits' way of brandin' their catch. And they call you Oysters because of the shiny little pearls that you all carry inside."
Hatter was anything other than sorry. The con artist's mind was awhirl with all the different possibilities this girl provided. She was lucky—a living Oyster was worth a lot more than a dead one.
"What do you mean, pearls?" The Oyster seemed less hostile than she had been a minute ago, and Hatter suspected that she'd recognized an act when she saw one. He'd never really dealt with a functioning Oyster before, but he'd finally offered some useful information he didn't mind sharing, so the glare had been kicked down a notch.
As he pondered whether to bring her to the Library or the Casino, the cherry of the situation landed on top.
Ratty, forgotten on the sidelines, was able to sense his time was closing. There was one final point he had to make before Hatter passed payment.
"She's Alice. Tell'im who you are."
Dry amusement found its way into Hatter's voice. Ratty was such a superstitious fool, believing in the old ways like that.
"Wow, really?" The rodent's nod almost made Hatter chuckle. Almost. "Whoo."
He circled the girl, careful to keep close enough to make her uncomfortable while being far enough to avoid a blow. For her part, she tried to follow his movements. The slightest bit of respect was dredged for the movement, but then Hatter dismissed it as mere instinct. Stopping next to Ratty, he threw an arm around his shoulder and tried to suppress his wince at the squelching noise he heard. Hatter looked at the rat catcher for a minute, but didn't like facing his stench head on and frowned before turning back to the Oyster. The next minute was purely for Ratty's payment, nothing more.
"Ratty here, thinks you're Alice…of legend."
"…Who?"
She really had no idea, but Hatter wasn't surprised. The last Alice had been a young girl…over a century ago. She'd also been a blonde, which this girl was obviously not. Hatter shushed the naughty little voice in his mind that said there was only one way to find that out. It was time for business, not pleasure.
"The last, um, the last time a girl called Alice came here from your world…she brought down the whole house of cards, oh yeah. Made quite an impression. Although it was one hundred and fifty years ago. It can't be the same girl. Oysters don't even live that long."
Hatter's storytelling voice quickly turned businesslike as he glared at Ratty. The rodent was trying to pull a fast one, but he'd not get anywhere with that. As it was, he looked unapologetic as he made his demands.
"I still want a good price." Shame the little Oyster didn't agree.
"Wait a minute! I am not for sale!" A conspiratorial look was directed at her by the salesman as he walked over to his public-private stash. Anyone with half a brain could see that Hatter had deliberately left these teas for semi-public viewing because they weren't as quality, but most Teaheads didn't have that much brainpower to spare. A sharp, "Not on the grass!" as Hatter moved to inspect his "collection."
"Right."
He half considered handing the rodent a measure of Calm, but didn't feel like wasting such a high-end tea on him. Picking up a pink bottle, Hatter smiled as he put on a show for Ratty and the Oyster.
"Here we are, mmm…Pink nectar. Filled with the thrill of human excitement. Fifty Oysters were drained of every last drop of hullabaloo so that you, Ratty, can taste what it feels like to win, just once." Hatter's tone hardened. "Warning: don't take it on an empty stomach and only one tiny little drop at a time. Otherwise, the experience might burst your shriveled up little heart. Got it?"
Ratty got it. Handing him the bottle, the rat merrily left with his new prize held high in the air. Hatter switched his attention to the girl as he sniffed the hand that had been on Ratty's shoulder. A queasy look passed over his face as he pointed towards the door.
"He really smells."
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This will probably take a while since I'm literally rewatching the movie to get the script as accurately as possible, but this scene came out pretty fast because I'd practically memorized it. Take the time to leave a review if you'd like, but I shan't beg you for them.
- SV