Chapter Three:
Emblym out a sharp yelp as she collided with the grassy floor. "Well, I did say to watch your step," Cheshire commented, floating above her. Emblym threw her knife at his floating body, but he moved before it could make contact, falling a ways away from her.
"Now, that wasn't very nice," he purred at Emblym's frustration as she rose.
"Where am I?" She demanded, glaring at the cat.
"Somewhere in America. This country is awfully big, too easy to get lost, or kidnapped—oh! Here they come!" Cheshire turned where three figures were bounding their way.
A large Bloodhound was the first to arrive, "Hattah said she wasn't comin'," the dog spoke, annoyed. Emblym noticed that riding on the dog's head, was a small mouse.
"It talks?!" Emblym hissed, and Cheshire rolled his slitted eyes.
"Yes, of course he talks, don't be daft." Cheshire turned back to the dog, "She needed a bit of persuasion. I tried to tell the old fool that this way would be the easiest, teenagers are so finicky nowadays, you are lucky to have me."
"What did you call me?" Hatter snapped as he arrived with a short, bald man with a egg-shaped head.
"An old fool," Cheshire repeated, "I might add tone-deaf as well if you ask me again."
Hatter gave him a half-hearted glare, but turned to Emblym, "I'm glad you changed your mind! We'll start training in the morning!" Hatter turned, waving her in the direction of a house of a house that looked like it was nearly a twenty-minute walk away.
"Do you mind telling me what exactly we are doing here?" Emblym asked, "This... Situation was not really explained when I agreed to come."
"What?" Hatter turned to Cheshire, "You dumb cat, you were supposed to explain, then bring her. How is he supposed to agree to something if she doesn't know the terms of it?"
"I brought the girl, did I not? That is fifty percent, you ungrateful arse," Cheshire narrowed his slitted eyes at Hatter and he rolled his eyes.
"I'll explain, since this Cheshire was so indecent to explain your situation," Hatter began, "We shall tour the land as well."
"Why do you not just explain as we walk?" Emblym asked, "It looks like quite the long walk to your home."
"Nonsense!" Hatter laughed, "We're on then front steps." Hatter took off his hat and pulled a key out. Then, he stuck it into the air, turning it.
The illusion of the field before Emblym vanished as he ushered the girl inside a home. The voices began to laugh at the nostalgia, a lot were feeling really nostalgic right about now. Some were angry, angry at Hatter, angry how he had damned them to hell.
Emblym gritted her teeth, ignoring the urge to murder something, and stepped into the house. It was quaint, and had a very homely sense to it. Well, as homely as Emblym recognize after being in an asylum for the last four years.
The wallpaper had white roses and was peeling from age. There was a small table filled with loose letters and other assorted mail products. There was an entry way, with two wood-glass doors leading to what looked like a kitchen — she could tell from the side of a kitchenette peeking around the wall.
As Emblym walked, observing the house, Hatter spoke, his tone serious. "The situation in Wonderland is rather fragile at the moment. You see, we are nearly at the end of our time."
"What do you mean?" Emblym inquired as she stepped into the kitchen. There was a stair well off to one side, leading upstairs, and a back room that she suspected was the laundry room. The kitchen, however, was a mess. Dishes littered the sink, dirty pots on the stove, the table unclean and filled with assorted items. Emblym scrunched her nose in disgust, she always hated untidiness, even before having the voices. Everything was always clean around her was always clean — and had to stay clean. She felt the sudden urge to find bleach and drown this kitchen in it.
Emblym looked over, there was another door, closing the kitchen off, and a living room off to the side, with a small television that had been turn off, and a old sofa. A bookshelf sat behind it, filled with books she didn't have the time to recognize.
"Before the Red Queen casted the curse," Hatter began, pulling a wooden chair from under the dirty table to sit. He moved his hands in a sweeping motion, temporarily cleaning an area so he could rest his hands — also causing items to fall on the ground on the other side because of it — and motioned towards the chair across him for her to sit. Gingerly, Emblym did. "She had to strike a deal with the Lord of Time, an old friend of her's. If she wanted to bypass the time lock and find a way to end the war, it would be at the price of giving her soul. She agreed, and due to their past friendship, he granted us, Dee, Bayard, Mallymkun, Cheshire and I with limited immortality."
"What does that mean?" Emblym asked, raising an eyebrow. Hatter dug into his pocket and took out an old watch that wasn't ticking.
"This watch is counting down to our deaths," Hatter explained. "He couldn't give us such a precious thing for free, however. At the price of keeping this watch, every year, after we have met the next Red Human, this watch will stop, and this," he pointed to a rather small clock near the bottom corner, which had also been ticking. "Will count down. Once this has met zero, and the Red human hasn't already killed the White Queen or died, this clock with start again," he moved back to the bigger, frozen clock. Emblym noticed that the hands were dangerously close to hitting twelve o'clock, as in, minutes before.
"And, if you die before either of that happens? If the year runs out, and that clock hits twelve? What happens to Wonderland?"
"Wonderland will be stuck in a time loop for the rest of eternity," Hatter explained gravely. "In theory, if we die and the curse hasn't been lifted, then the Red Human must kill the White Queen, without our help." Emblym stared at him, "Yes, I realize that the situation is complicated, but we must save Wonderland. We are all relying on you, Emblym."
"And, if I kill the White Queen, the voices will leave?" Emblym asked, for conformation. Hatter blinked, but Cheshire appeared in the kitchen, resting on Hatter's hat.
"Yes, dear, do not fret," Cheshire spoke coolly before looking down at Hatter, his tail swinging. "The horses are getting spooked, I believe there's a storm coming soon. Do you mind locking the stables?"
"Why don't you?" Hatter frowned, annoyed.
"I would," Cheshire agreed, "But, I am so exhausted after bringing this girl all the way here. Do you realize how hard it is to mist from east California to Kansas?" He didn't wait for an answer, "Exceedingly hard."
"Bah!" Hatter grumbled, taking off his hat and shaking it, forcing the cat to go elsewhere. Cheshire grinned, disappeared. "I suppose since I need to lock the farm, we could tour it as well." Hatter stood, motioning towards the back room. Emblym followed, standing as well. She absentmindedly twirled her knife in her between her fingers as she followed the man out the back door.
"Our house is on a farm," Hatter explained, as he stepped outside. The sky was getting dark, but it was still sunny enough to show the grounds. Emblym rose an eyebrow, it wasn't cloudy at all, how could the horses be spooked. Emblym didn't know much about horses, so she supposed she couldn't really say much due her lack of knowledge on the subject.
Hatter showed Emblym the henhouse, the cow stables — which did not smell at all pleasant — the horse stables, where there were three horses, one of which looked very pregnant. Across the field was a herd of sheep as well, which were all contained in a fenced off area with very green grass. After he finished, it was darker and the mosquitos were beginning to come out.
Emblym and Hatter went back inside the house, to find Cheshire laying across the counter. Tweedle-Dee was standing atop a wooden chair over a gas stove, arguing with the Bayard, the Bloodhound. The smaller mouse was with Cheshire, sitting on his head. They were all yelling, except for Cheshire whom seemed to be reveling in the chaos.
"Well, if ya wanna be like that then fine!" The Bloodhound snapped, his teeth bared. "Cook your goddamn pasta, but don't ask me to clean that dirty room'a ya's again!"
"I did not want you too anyway!" He hissed. He was about to throw a pot on the ground before Emblym stepped in, snatching it out of the short man's hands.
"What's all this yelling about?" Hatter spoke calmly to the red-faced individuals. Well, red faced, and teeth-bared.
"Oh, you missed it, Hatter," Cheshire spoke, seemingly very entertained. "It was hilarious."
"He wants to have pizza again!" T-Dee snapped, "I refuse to eat it — we've had it three days in a row!"
"Well, it'd be better than your burned pasta!" Bayard snapped.
"Why should we buy greasy shit when we have perfectly good food right here for free!?"
"Oi!" The mouse, Mallymkun, snapped, glaring at the two, "Watch your language, you little fuckers."
Emblym rose an eyebrow, as they continue to argue. The voices joined in, and she winced, glaring at the floor. One of the voices spoke louder than the others, managing to quiet them.
'Git 'em outta my kitchen!' The voice hissed angrily. Emblym flinched, 'Ya'lls ragtag band'a misfits don' belong 'ere! Move ya ass, an' lemme cook!'
"Is everything alright?" Hatter asked.
Emblym glared at the ground, "I'll cook. Go!" The others turned to one another, then shrugged.
"As long as ya don't make that shit, I don't care," Bayard shrugged, allowing the mouse on the counter to jump on his head.
'Ya will eat what I serve, ya degenerate piece'a shit,' the voice muttered as they left. Then, it began to instruct Emblym to get certain ingredients out of the cabinets, bringing them to the overflowing countertop.
It had taken nearly an hour or so, but she had finally finished cooking, and served several bowls of it.
"Come eat!" Emblym called, and the others ran back into the kitchen.
"What'd ya make?" The Bloodhound asked. "It smell good."
"Food. Go grab a bowl if you want some," Emblym instructed, as the others came into the kitchen as well.
"Ooo, chili! I haven't had chili since Lou was 'ere!" The mouse grinned, jumping off Hatter's hat and unto Bayard's back, grinning the whole time.
At the mention of Lou, one of the voices began to wail, which caused the others to riot, demanding for a head — some of them wanted Hatter's head. "Are you going to join us, Emblym?" Hatter asked, motioning to the kitchen table. They had pushed everything away, making a mess on the floor, again.
Emblym looked at the table in disgust. "Later." She replied, and going to clean off the filthy table first.
"What are you doing?" Cheshire asked, a small bowl in his hands as he ate.
"Cleaning. This house is the equivalent of a pig's pen. I refuse to eat somewhere when a rat is liable to come creeping around the corner," Emblym grumbled.
"Save your strength," Tweedledee commented, "It's just gonna get messy again anyway." There was a sober tone to his voice. He was depressed.
"Well, until they do, we'll jus have to keep it clean," Emblym responded to the sad egg-shaped man. "Eat." The others didn't argue this, however they did send her strange glances every now and then. Emblym didn't act on it, continuing to clean up. It wasn't until everyone was done and it was late into the night that she had finally finished.
The dishes were clean and put away, although some were still drying. The table straightened, leaving only a table cloth — tat she had found in the wreckage of the table while cleaning — that was recently washed, set, along with placemats and dishes. The floor was swept. Any mice or rats she had found — that didn't turn out to be Mallymkun — was swiftly stabbed and disposed of. The kitchen counters cleaned, stove wiped out, oven cleaned out, and everything was in its rightful place.
Emblym pulled her bowl of chili out of the fridge, heated it in the microwave. She sighed as she waited for it, sitting down at the kitchen table. "It's very nice," someone commented airily. On reflex, Emblym threw her knife in that direction, not even looking.
"Now, now, that wasn't kind at all," Cheshire said, descending on her head, his tail wrapping around her neck.
"What do you want, Cheshire?" Emblym asked, annoyance threaded in her tone.
"Why so hostile?" Cheshire purred. "I simply wanted to see how it all looked, afterwards."
"It looks clean, so you can go to sleep," Cheshire laughed, coming off her head and reappearing on the table.
"I suppose it does, you really are a stickler for cleaning, huh?" Emblym rolled her eyes, annoyed, but stopped when something came to mind.
"Cheshire?"
"Hmm?" The cat purred, fiddling with a table napkin.
"Hatter said that I have a year to kill the White Queen, and that if I haven't died or the time runs up, then you guys die."
"Yes, yes, that is quite a dreadful thought to think, hm?"
"What is going to happen that might cause me to die?" Emblym asked, "Because, if all I'm going to do is train here, and then fight her, then it's not like I'm going to get shot down, right? The only thing that might be able to kill me would be if I don't kill the White Queen, not including things like sicknesses, and the like."
Cheshire was silent for a moment, "He was referring to a different group," Cheshire explained, his tone suddenly serious. "Several times in the past they have gotten in the way while we tried to train Red-Humans. They're called SHIELD. It's a government organization that owns a lot of America, at least for the past hundred or so years. They've been interfering with us since they have started, which explains a few of the Red Human deaths. The Red Human before you was killed by them, actually. They deemed her too dangerous to society, and wouldn't listen to us when we tried to explain our situation."
Emblym could only nod, while Cheshire glared at the table. He was close to her, Emblym predicted. "We keep you here to keep you safe," he continued. "As long as you're here, it's impossible for SHIELD to find you. We only have so much time left, Emblym. Don't waste it."
"Is that a threat, Cheshire?" Emblym asked coolly, her brown eyes narrowed at the blue cat.
"Merely a warning," Cheshire replied.
"The lines between threats and warnings are often blurred beyond recognition." Emblym could feel the voices getting agitated. She wondered how it would feel to behead a cat that had the ability to defy gravity.
"Then, Emblym, decide. Will you waste our time? Will you spend the next year idly, procrastinating the death of the White Queen?"
"I have given you my word, have I not?"
Cheshire laughed, floating back in the air. "I simply request for you to honour it."
"I will," Emblym said, a bit insulted that he would think otherwise.
"We shall see in time, shall we? Goodnight, Emblym," Cheshire grinned as he disappeared.