Yay! Only four days after my last submission! I'm getting faster and faster XD I'm thinking about doing a Christmas Special for Wonderland, what do you guys think? Also, feel free to add an idea of what the Special could include/be about in your review, and I'll add my favorite ones in ^^ Enjoy!
Commencing: Fanfiction: Wonderland: Chapter 11
Chapter 11
I wake up in the middle of a field of oddly green and red flowers. "Urgh…. What the hell?" A few images flick through my mind, the door slamming open, a black figure stepping in, and a pair of high-heeled shoes flying towards my face. My eyes widen as I remember the assault and I jerk upwards, gasping.
I scramble to my feet and reach for my gun. Gone. "Damn it," I grumble. "Why does everyone keep on taking my gun?"
"Because we all know you can manage very well without it," A sweet, child-like voice says.
I whip around to find a young girl, looking around the age 16, sitting cross-legged on the grass. She's wearing a frilly blue dress that reaches all the way to her knees, her blonde hair in curls, a black hairband snug in her long, flowing hair. She reaches into a white pocket located over her right breast, and pulls out the Vorpal Sword. "This is what you're talking about, right?"
"Yes," I say cautiously, watching her toss it from one hand to another. I stretch out my hand, keeping my distance. "Can I have it back?"
She looked at me, her delicately sculpted eyebrows furrowed, and stuck out her lower lip. "Why? You don't need it anyways."
"Yes, I do…" I say. "Now can you please hand it over?"
She caressed the barrel of the gun, her finger tracing the words The Vorpal Sword. "Ah, I've missed this…"
"Wait, what?"
She interrupts me by firing the Vorpal Sword into the sky. I count the shots. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Great. She wasted all my bullets.
"It's so nice to come in touch with this again," she says, opening up the barrel. "Huh, it's shining. You've kept it in good shape." She pockets the Vorpal Sword again. "I think I'll keep it."
"What?" I yell, the intensity of anger in my tone surprising even me. I have fought and won many battles with this sword, and I am not going to let it be stolen from some 16 year-old girl. "Look. Give it back. Now."
"Or what?" She teases me. "You're going to kick me?"
"I might," I warn, though I know I'm lying. I can never bring myself to kick a woman, such action is unbecoming of a gentleman. A pang of pain hits me in the chest when I remember kicking the Cheshire Cat, her limp form flying across the clearing, and desperately I shake it off.
She sticks her tongue out at me. "Liar, liar."
"Look, Little Girl," I say slowly. "I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to be here. I need to go back to the Real World. Or at least to return to the White King's Palace."
Her eyes widen at the mention of "little girl" and suddenly she wrenches her head back. The girl's entire body goes rigid and her body starts twisting and convulsing. I stare on in shock and quickly back away from her. Finally, she lets out a deep, strangled breath, and her head jerks forward, cocked at an unnatural angle.
"My name isn't 'Little Girl'," She said, her words now short and clipped. "It's not Little Girl." She lurches to her feet and starts walking towards me, her eyes distant and dull.
"T-then what is?" I stammer. "If it's not Little Girl, then what is?"
"It's," The girl pauses for a moment, and her tongue touches her upper lip as she concentrates. She spits out a word, as if speaking a foreign language. "Alice." Immediately a wide smile breaks across her face. "Alice!" She plays with the word in her mouth. "My name is Alice!"
"No." I say. "You can't be Alice. I'm Alice."
Her head whips towards me so suddenly, and her head tilts again at that unnatural angle. "Oh," she says slowly. "Ooooooh." She approaches me at a quicker pace. "Oh, is that what they're doing now?"
I back away quickly, desperate to get away from this creepy girl. (Even though she was really pretty.) "G-get away!"
"Is that what they're doing now?" She repeats. "Brainwashing?" Suddenly she's in front of me, so close her breath tickles my cheek, and her eyes get that demented sparkI sometimes see in the Mad Hatter's. She leans in and sniffs. "Sa pagtuman Medicamento…" She murmurs. "Sad, sad, sad."
Suddenly she jerks back, her hand curled into a fist, and immediately I lift my leg up to block the blow. She strikes once, twice, three times, and every time her knuckles dig into my flesh and hit bone, sending stabs of pain through my leg. Already I can feel the bruises forming.
"You're all copies!" She shrieks, and I take a step backwards, only to feel my leg buckle and I fall to the ground. "Copies!" She raises her hand to strike again, when a hand appears on her shoulder.
The girl pauses, and sighs. "I knew you would come." She takes a step sideways to make way for another girl, aged around 20.
"Don't try to run," the new comer says. "This is the fields of the Lost. It's where the Reds and Whites keep all their prisoners." She helps me to my feet and I get a clearer view of her face.
She is really damn pretty. Her hair is long and brown, tied in a flowing ponytail. Nestled on the side of her head is a black bow that matches her shoes. Oddly enough, she's dressed in the same clothes as the blonde girl. I look at her face, and it dawns me as I recognize the look in her eyes. Dull. Dark.
The moment I notice this, her mouth stretches into a wide, maniacal smile. "You can't run," she says.
I jerk out of her grip and turn around, only to find myself face to face with other men and women, who form a circle around the two girls and I. The men are dressed the same as me, a completely white suit with a blue undershirt and black shoes. The women wear frilled blue dresses, some that go down to their ankles, some that are cut off at mid-thigh. Any other way, I'm surrounded by a bunch of copycats.
The girl with blonde hair barks out a laugh. "Did you think you were the only Alice?"
A man with spiky purple hair snarls. "Look at the look on his face!"
A girl with curled black hair and a red rose stuck in her hair gives a high-pitched laugh. "He did! He really, really did!"
"If you're wondering why and how," a girl with sapphire blue hair and yellow eyes (not to mention claw-like nails) says, pausing between words as if she can't decide what to say next. "Just think. This war between Wonderland and the Order of Hearts- how long has it been going on?"
"30 years," I say, uncertain of what will come next.
"Yes," continues the girl with brown hair. "And you're twenty-one."
"How do you-"
"ID Card," says a girl with black hair (tied in a braid) and green eyes dismissively. "We took it off you when you were unconscious." She holds it out and tosses it from one hand to another. "Do they really use such stupid ways of identification now?" She pockets it again.
"9 years before you were born," The girl concludes. "Also, take another 19 years, since you only actually started working for Wonderland when you were 19." She smiles. "28 years. The war has gone on for 28 years before you joined Wonderland as Alice. But you can never have a Wonderland without an Alice, right?"
"No…" I trail off. 28 years since the War begun.
"Ever since the White Rabbit started the War," Blondie says, "he has been working on a Trump Card. The Trump Card known as Alice."
"We're the rejects." The girl with brown hair snarls. "Some of us, like Alice here," she points at the girl with blue hair, "were mechanically engineered fighting machines. No, but the perfect Alice had to match the description of Alice. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Lean figure. Looks good in a suit or dress. Look at you, you bastard. You don't even know about us!"
"Brainwashing," says the girl with the rose. "Is that what they're doing now? Brainwashing the agents?" She steps closer as the circle grows tighter, and leans in with a distasteful sniff. "Sa pagtuman medicamento," she announces and the crowd jeers.
I decide to cut in. "I really need to be going. I'm in a rush."
"Look at us," The girl with blonde hair says, gesturing. "We're shells of our former selves. But we're all Alice. Or at least, we used to be."
"Shells?"
She sighs. "This is the Fields of the Lost. It is where people with no purpose in the Looking-Glass Lands end up. The moment you enter the Fields, your Looking-Glass counterpart dies."
I falter. "Does that mean-?"
"You're dead, Alice." She smiles. "If we kill you, there will be no one to take your place. The White Rabbit will have lost his perfect Alice forever."
"Perfect? What?" I back away, and oddly enough, they let me pass through.
Blondie's face turns twisted and when she speaks, the scorn in her voice seems to stab my with every syllable. "You. It's because of you that we were thrown in here. At first it was okay, we could be used as backups for the real Alice, should he or she ever fall sick or die. After all, we were all imperfect. But then you came along and the White Rabbit didn't need us anymore. After he heard that there was a teenager with blonde hair and blue eyes and a knack for fighting, he ditched us. Do you know how?"
I shake my head, even though I don't want to hear it.
"He sent each of us a mirror," The girl with blue hair cuts in. "Telling us that it was a gift from him to thank us for all the hard work we've done. We should have known. He sent a Looking-Vortex- a Looking-Glass which sucks you in immediately when you look at it."
"The moment we were sucked in," A man with shortly-cropped black hair said. "The mirror smashed itself, and we were stuck here."
"You see?" The girl with brown hair says. "The White Rabbit is nothing but a cold, heartless, evil bastard who cares only about winning the war."
I feel the drug kick up again, the numbness spreading across my body, and I scream as the pain of these words overtake me. I crumple to my feet, clutching at my head, trying to will the pain away. The moment I try concentrate, I am wracked with pain again, and I can only scream and writhe on the ground.
"You see?" One of the Alice says. "When you're in the Looking-Glass Lands, every single feeling is intensified. Such as this."
Someone grabs my hand and I cry out as it's wrenched upwards. I feel a cold blade press into my skin, and feel it cut the skin open. Even though it's just a tiny cut, the pain intensifies until it feels like my entire body is being ripped in half. I scream and scream, convulsing on the ground, just wishing the pain would go away. My entire body feels like it's burning and I find myself wishing for everything to stop, for everything to go away, for death, and suddenly the pain disappears.
Just like that. It's gone.
But that's not good news. As I relax, gasping, I feel the drug creeping into my mind, it's grip stronger than before. What would the White Rabbit say if he saw me in this state?
I'm disappointed in you, Alice.
This time, it's not the pain, but the thought of disappointing him that makes me scream as the drug pierces my mind with obedience, and then I'm gone.
I breathe out and relax, before slowly climbing to my feet. I sway for a moment, before planting my feet in a combat position.
"Eh?" The girl with brown hair steps forward, clutching a silver knife, its tip stained with blood. So she was the one who cut me. "What are you doing?"
"He can't have recovered that fast," The blonde girl says. "The Looking-Glass Land makes it so that even the pain of a paper-cut will last an hour."
"Whatever," snarls the brunette and she licks the blood off her blade. "Then we'll just have to wound him more." She lunges forward, knife swinging, and I brace myself.
I duck under her knife, and immediately it flies towards my back. I can tell by the whistling of the air, and before she can stab me, I grab her wrist and flip her over my shoulder.
She screams and then I know that the law of the Looking-Glass Lands apply to the Lost too. I hit her one time and she goes limp.
Now the others are angry, and with a cry in unison, they leap at me.
Easy. I duck under a flailing claw (probably from the girl with blue hair) and send two men flying with a kick. I sweep through them easily like wildfire in a forest.
Soon I'm the only one left standing amongst a pile of corpses. Most are dead from the intensified pain of the wounds, but there are some that are still twitching and moaning. I hear movement behind me and turn to see the blonde girl struggling to rise.
She looks at my face and snarls. "Perfect as always. You killed innocent people today."
"You tried to kill me." My voice comes out low and dull.
"Oh, no." She smiles. "Only a few of us. Most of them are just poor souls, influenced by us stronger ones to act along with us. They were trapped in here, prisoners of the White Rabbit. There were only 10 Alices in the 30 people that surrounded you." She pauses for a moment, savoring the look on my face. "You killed 20 innocent people, and you didn't even care." She licks her lips as I pick up a loaded gun from a fallen Alice. "You know the White Rabbit was right."
I position the gun at her head.
"That cold, heartless demeanor of yours is the perfect Alice."
I shoot and she drops.
End of Chapter 11
Three cheers for Sanji torture! XD Nothing much to say, except as said above: Leave an idea that you think I should include in the Christmas Special in your review, and I'll add my most favorite ones in! Deadline is December 22nd! Reviews greatly appreciated!
-Veratican Justice