"I'm telling you, this is a bad idea. No! I absolutely forbid it." Ten flailed his arms in agitation as Jack resisted the urge to rub the impending headache from his temples. "The people already look favorably upon you, thanks to the Stone's destruction. There's no need to make any further public appearances until it's safe!"
"He has a point," Duchess added. "The Heart-Haters make new threats against you every day. You'd be too exposed. Anything could happen."
Jack nodded, fingers steepled under his chin. He glanced up at the White Knight, who had taken to pacing the small room and mumbling under his breath. "Charlie?"
The knight huffed in exasperation then jumped in surprise as if he'd just received an electrical shock. "Ah! Yes! Kings be bold and Kings of old. Bold and old, old and bold…" His ramblings trailed into incoherent thought as he began humming to himself.
Jack had long since became accustomed to Charlie's eccentricities, though deciphering the deeper meaning behind his words was another skill entirely. The knight was a gentle soul, loyal to a fault and wise beyond his years…well, when he actually made sense.
Ten, Duchess and Charlie. He'd inducted them as his official council members within a week of his mother's downfall; a decision that had proved to be one of his finest since ascending the throne. He relied on their day-to-day guidance and enjoyed the time to sit among friends when it felt as if the outside world was plotting against him. The four of them usually came to some form of compromise regarding the issues presented at these meetings, but Jack wasn't about to back down from his proposal this time.
"I need to be seen. I want to be seen. I'm the King of Wonderland and can't just spend my days in hiding. The buildings in this City are deplorable and must be sanitized, if not demolished. I would like to lead this effort."
"But, your Majesty—" Ten's concerns were drowned out by a loud snore from the corner. Jack paced across the room and snapped his fingers in front of the sleeping man's face.
"Rise and shine, Dormie." Doormouse awoke with a start and instinctively reached for an invisible gavel.
"Bidding starts in five minutes!" he cried drowsily. Jack tapped the notepad in front of the auctioneer to garner his full attention.
"Prepare to take notes. Not all of us are in agreement."
"Notes! Yes! Exactly! Right away, right away," Dormie complied and swapped his invisible gavel for a very real quill that he plunged messily into an inkwell.
The man had a record as black and vague as the ink smudge on his fingers, but what he lacked in morality he made up for with information about Wonderland's criminal underbelly. Jack had promised him safety in exchange for knowledge, which the funny little fellow was more than happy to provide, after a sugar cube or two to whet his sweet tooth. Ironically, Dormie had become the council's official scribe, despite his narcoleptic episodes.
"Your Majesty," Ten began again in earnest, "we're just looking out for your best interest. Let it be noted that I do not support your physical involvement in this project. Even without the hazardous nature of such a task, you still must contend with those who would see you beheaded!" Jack clasped Ten on the shoulder with a light shake.
"I don't disagree with you, Ten. But this once beautiful city fell to ruin under my mother's watch and I intend to rectify my family's mistakes. At the very least, my citizens will have clean air to breathe and safe dwellings out of which to create new homes." He leaned heavily in his chair, closing his eyes. "I can't make this decision for you. As council members, you have the power to overthrow my vote if you are all in agreement. Dormie, you know how I stand." One by one, the others silently placed their votes. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Unanimous. He offered a small smile to the group, which felt at odds with his conflicting emotions. He hoped he was making the right decision.
"Right, then. This will take some planning. Let's get started."
Mold. Asbestos. An abundance of snake-like vines. A ripple of disgust and fear trickled down Jack's spine at the sheer grotesqueness of the site. The White Rabbit's decrepit building, nestled amongst identical ghostly slums, was the unofficial capital of this glorified hell. He couldn't imagine how terrified Alice must have been as she tumbled through the Looking Glass from her perfect world into this absolute wreckage. Selfishly, he was glad he'd been unconscious for the return journey from New York. But waking up, trapped in that godforsaken scarab, had been another nightmare entirely…
Another shiver racked his frame as he walked carefully up the front steps and approached the red eyes of the White Rabbit emblem embossed on the steel exterior. He didn't like this place. This…facility. Constructed for the sole purpose of kidnapping unsuspecting oysters for transport to the Casino, the White Rabbit processing center had been his mother's pride and joy. It was a clever system on her part; alarming drop-offs surrounded the vicinity to keep oysters from running away and the mandatory evacuation of this district meant no citizens were around to raise any alarms. A small part of Jack admired the ingenuity of such a feat and he hated himself for it.
Duchess followed him slowly up the steps, noticing his hesitation.
"Jack? What is this place?" As an involuntary denizen of the Casino, she'd never been allowed to roam the streets freely nor had she been privy to many of the Queen's secrets. She'd been molded into the perfect wallflower and the teas forced upon her had ensured she acted the part.
"One of the harvesting points." At her confused expression, he clarified: "For oysters." His voice shook, anger and sorrow blending seamlessly through the chill atmosphere. The blood-red eyes from the doors tracked his movements, almost appearing sentient in the waxing light. He wondered how many innocent oysters had climbed these very steps, never to return to their world. The thought made him sick. Duchess, to his surprise, gave his arm an encouraging squeeze as she took her place beside him. He hesitated for the briefest of moments before covering her hand with one of his own.
For years the teas had haunted and controlled them. Jack couldn't count the number of times he'd surrendered to the oyster concoctions at his mother's insistence. She'd drowned him in Bliss, Confidence, or Excitement—whichever newest trend caught her fancy—and drugged his drinks without his consent while she studied its effects with a watchful eye.
However, the Queen's favorite drug of choice for the members of her court was Obedience, and both Jack and Duchess weren't exempt from the required daily doses. At times it was so potent that Jack could merely stand blankly at the Queen's side for hours while Duchess, doused in a dangerous combination of Obedience and Lust, wrapped her arms around his motionless frame.
It had taken Jack months to build up a resistance to the drug. Months of secretly doubling his doses of Obedience in order to boost his body's immunity. Months of following the Queen like a whipped puppy, the definition of a dutiful son. He routinely watched innocents being dragged away to face the executioner's axe, all while he did nothing. Like his father.
Eventually, the effects of Obedience had no claim over his mind, no matter how many tainted cocktails were pressed into his hands. He played the part well, his face a perfect mask, deceiving even his mother. The time for idleness was over. Caterpillar had been his first contact. Induction into the resistancey came soon after.
The blonde's grip on Duchess's hand tightened slightly. Duch. She'd been compromised by the teas most of all, and yet she never once blamed Jack for her hardships. He almost wished she would. He hadn't been there for her, so focused was he on ridding the Queen from her seat of power.
"I still miss it, sometimes," he confessed, locking eyes with the woman at his side. "Obedience. It made life…easier." He pulled his hand away and broke contact, feeling the familiar weigh of guilt engulf his heart. "How many had to die, purged of their emotions until nothing was left, all so that we could feel?"
Clouds broke apart in wispy threads, exposing the sun's ascent into the early morning sky. Sunlight glinted off the industrial steel coating of the building, sending blinding rays outward in a sea of dancing sparkles. Jack's eyes were shielded from the bright glare thanks to his trusty fedora, but Duchess brought a hand to her face and Ten, who was in the process of scurrying up the stairs, emitted an audible screech. The morning light seemed to physically lift the oppressive ambiance and derail Jack's morose train of thought. He chuckled at the sight of his friends, garnering mixed expressions of curiosity and annoyance.
"You're going to have to contend with that glare all day, I'm afraid. As long as you're outside, that is. Although, I did warn you both to wear hats. Duch?" He indicated his own with a wave of his hand. Duchess made a face and allowed a small smile to grace her features.
"No thanks. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing your ugly hat."
"Hey, you gave me this hat!"
"I'm already wearing a hat!" Ten chimed in irritably, finally reaching the stair's landing. Jack crossed his arms and nodded appraisingly. The Club had elected to wear his formal clover cap instead of the much more practical bowler hat he occasionally donned.
"Ten, I'm not even sure what you have can be considered a hat. And I've told you countless times to just stop wearing the thing." In truth, Jack had begged Ten and the other Clubs to disregard their uniforms months ago. The Club identity and wardrobe was simply another reminder of his mother's hierarchy within the Casino, with Hearts at the top, Diamonds at the bottom and the other suits falling in-between. Ten and the others had refused – first on the grounds that they were loyal to the Heart bloodline (of which only Jack remained), then later as a symbol of Jack's emerging reign. They vowed to be as identifiable as possible until the Heart-Haters were eradicated.
"I'll be the judge of my own wardrobe, thank you," came the brusque reply as the Club surveyed the scenery and shivered. "This is still a bad idea, Jack. There's something about this place—"
"There's always something about my ideas you don't like, Ten—"
"—something wrong. I'm doubling your guard. Don't move." Ten began to backtrack down the steps, when Jack caught his sleeve.
"Ten, everything's going to be okay. If you'd like, you can start organizing the volunteers; they've already been assembled into teams. They just need a starting point to begin the clean up. I'm going on ahead."
"But—!"
The blonde put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Alright, I won't go alone. Duch will accompany me." Realizing he'd just issued a direct order to one of his council members, Jack stammered an apology, turning red in the face. He'd never take away their free will. He wouldn't become that kind of Heart.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean…no, forget it. Duch, you decide—"
"I'm coming with you, Jack," Duchess replied without hesitation. Ten almost started into another tirade of rebuttals, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. "We'll be fine. I'll protect our fearless King if anything happens."
Still shaken from his earlier command, Jack tried to deflect her help. "Duch, no. I mean, I'm not going to force you to come with me."
Duchess rolled her eyes, though not unkindly. "Great. Then let's go. I'm anxious to see what the Queen and her White Rabbit cooked up while I was learning how to balance books on my head."
Jack winced at her candid remark, face growing somber. He had a sudden urge to spirit her away from this foul place, lest it somehow hurt her beautiful soul. He hadn't realized he'd reached for her hand until he felt her delicate fingers within his grasp. "Okay. Together." They walked hand-in-hand toward the glittering entrance with its piercing eyes. Jack willed himself not to think of the Truth Room as he took a chilling breath and opened the door. He stepped slowly over the threshold into the darkness beyond. Duchess' grip tightened at the abysmal sight before them. The door swung shut of its own accord, as if being pulled by taut strings. When Jack turned back to face the doorway, his exit had vanished and his fiancée's hand disappeared suddenly from his hold, leaving him trapped and alone in a dirty, industrial-lit hallway.
"Duch? DUCH?!" he shouted wildly, pounding on the wall behind him that had once held the door to the outside. The walls seemed to reverberate the words back to him, distorted acoustics making her name sound mockingly evil to his own ears. Ten was right, this had been a mistake…and now his Duch was paying the price, ensnared in a tangled web meant for the King of Wonderland.
Jack made his way forward, jumping when shadows moved at odds with the flickering lights above. The nature of this place was to corral wandering oysters straight into the alligator's mouth, so to speak, until the floating scarab prison was filled to capacity. He couldn't help thinking that these tricks and subtle illusions should have died with the Queen's imprisonment. Which meant someone had been expecting him. Someone was still running the show.
The L shaped hallway forced him to turn to the right where a single small room sat nestled at the end of the corridor. A glass table bathed in light shimmered innocently, free from the plant infestation that cloaked the cracked walls within his reach. It was alluring. Dangerous. And the only way forward.
On his worst days, when his mother had seen fit to blend his dosing of Obedience with a few drops of red Vanity, she would take the young prince to this horrible place to watch the proceedings. Jack remembered the Queen cheering as the oysters scurried through the conflicting twists and turns, trembling in fear, and her giggle of delight as, one by one, they succumbed to the shrinking cages and were hoisted into the flight vehicle above. She'd made a game of it as the unwilling victims entered the compound.
"Pick an oyster, my dear. Let's see how long they last!" she would say. And Jack would eagerly comply, reveling in their misery as the Vanity flooding his system stripped any sympathy he felt in his heart.
Jack winced as memories of his prior visits resurfaced. Memories he had tried so hard to bury. He risked a glance over his shoulder and wondered if he was being watched and judged, like so many oysters before him. He shrugged the feeling aside as he entered the pristine room. Dwelling on the unknown wouldn't help Duchess. If anyone had so much as raised a hand against her…
The king swiped the crystal bottle from the tabletop's reflective surface and scanned the spidery scrawl written on the tag. Curiosity. He flipped the tag over. Killed the cat.
Something cracked against the back of Jack's skull and his body crumpled to the ground in response. He writhed in agony on the shiny tiles, willing himself to remain conscious.
"Hello, your Majesty," a cool voice said. He watched helplessly as a pair of polished boots entered his vision, stopping just inches from his prone figure. Jack felt two pairs of hands grab his arms from behind and force him to his knees. The blonde raised his head in defiance despite the trickle of blood dripping down the back of his neck and pooling at his collar.
"Seven," he managed to gasp as the man met his gaze with a cruel smile. His heart sank. His mother had been particularly fond of the Spade's penchant for cruelty; unlike so many of her other servants, he'd never needed a drop of Obedience to follow her corrupt orders.
"Our once grand prince of Hearts, reduced to this," Seven continued. He picked up the fallen fedora at Jack's feet.
"Where's Duch?" Jack spat. At the mention of her name, the iron grip on his arms tightened.
"Your fiancée? It depends." Seven tossed the fedora to the side. "Tell me, Jack. How long has it been since your last dose? Surely a day doesn't go by where you don't miss it." At Jack's continued silence, his attacker smirked. "A reformed Wonderlander. I'm impressed." Seven snapped his fingers and one of his accomplices wrenched the glass bottle out of Jack's hand. The crystalline fluid swirled lazily within its striking prism. The king schooled his features, as he'd done so many times within his mother's presence.
"I won't tell you anything."
"Oh, you think this is Honesty? Well, it was, once. Before the casino fell." Seven pulled the topper off the bottle and watched Jack's eyes narrow at the sight. "All those negative emotions from those scared little oysters ruined the entire stock, but it made for some interesting combinations. No telling what this vial contains." Jack tried to quell the rising panic that blossomed in his chest. He held Seven's glare.
"I've been raised my whole life on those damn drugs. It won't make a difference."
"I think it will," Seven said with another wave of the bottle. "Especially when your newest council learns about Mad March's return. I wonder how my old friend, Ten, will take the news?" Mad March? Jack recalled that Ten and Seven had briefly served together as part of the Mad March's detail. "It's only fitting that the kingdom is freed from the Heart tyranny by the hand of the Queen's favorite assassin."
"You're lying." Dots appeared at the edge of Jack's vision as Seven unleashed a brutal punch to the side of his face.
"Cooperate and we'll only give you half the dose. A few drops should do the trick. Enough to make you the perfect messenger boy." Jack strained weakly against the arms that held him fast.
"You can't break me, Seven. I've tried every tea, every combination, every blend you can think of. You won't get what you want." The Spade regarded him with a wry grin.
"Abdicate the throne and this can all be avoided. If you refuse…well. I can only restrain Mad March so long before he snaps."
"I will not abandon my duties or my people. And if March even attempts to go after my friends—"
"The full dose it is, then. Gentlemen?" Jack grunted as the two Spades released him and his knees buckled. He doubled over, blinking past the blinding pain stabbing his head with every breath. Seven offered him the crystal flask. "Drink." At Jack's insolence, the Heart-Hater took a threatening step forward. "Drink or we make your fiancée do it in your place." Duch. He couldn't take that chance. Against his better judgment, Jack accepted the contraband and downed the glass with one gulp.
"Good boy," Seven sneered, as the young king's body trembled from the intensity of the drug. "Let's see what your subjects think of their mighty and fearless king after this."