Manic groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him. He could feel the painful pricking of dead grass and thorns digging into his side even though the cloth of his vest. The stench of smoke, rotting plant growth, and ancient dirt assaulted his nostrils so strongly he could almost taste it and he gagged, coughing and biting his tongue as though to eat away the taste. He reached up to cover his nose, but stopped short. His entire body felt like one huge bruise, pain flaring up at any movement. Groggily, he forced one eye open, wondering for how long he'd been out and if the mission had been completed.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of sky above him. Instead, there was nothing but darkness leading up and up and up endlessly. All around him was dirt, trailing far up into the nothing, leaving no clue of where he was, how he got there, or even how to get out.

"C'mon, you," he mumbled to himself, grunting as he flopped onto his stomach. "Time to get up." His arms buckled as he pushed himself up, slowly dragging his feet under him. He wobbled uncertainly for a moment, stretching out his arms to keep balanced and flinching at the pain of tired, aching muscles demanding to stop moving.

He looked upwards slowly so as to keep his vision from swimming, again wondering where he was when he paused. The darkness that had once been above him was gone, replaced by a crumbly-looking stone ceiling held up only by rotting wooden crossbeams.

"What the heck?" he mumbled, almost falling over. "When did that get there?"

"Don't be too surprised," came a voice from behind him, causing him to jump. "And don't be too surprised if it leaves, that roof is a finicky thing – constantly moving from there to here and back again."

Manic whirled around, upsetting his precarious balance and falling on his rear, and saw a young Fox of no more than eight, once-gold and dirtied white fur matted and clumped together to barely hang off an emaciated frame, looking down at him with a none-too-pleasant grin. Behind him was a long tunnel leading off into a glowing darkness, stone and dirt held back by the same rotting and half-gone boards.

"W-what's going on here?" Manic demanded. "Who are you?"

"Too much and too little," sighed the Fox, his grin never wavering. "I am the Cheshire, my dear Alice, and I'm wounded that you don't remember me."

"The what? And I'm not Alice – my name is Manic."

"Really?" The Cheshire leaned in close and lifted a single brow. "Then why have you stolen her dress?"

Manic looked down and his eyes widened in shock. Gone was his tattered red vest and in its stead was a simple blue frock, an almost blindingly white apron tied loosely about his waist. His tennis shoes had been replaced by a pair of thigh-high lace-up black platform boots, the heels spiking up sharply and making his ankles ache more than the rest of him.

"When did this get here?!" he yelped, attempting to jump only to hiss in pain and collapse further to the ground. He glared at the Fox as though he were the cause of all this and demanded, "Where am I? What's going on?!"

The Fox merely continued to grin and slowly, impossibly, he began to vanish starting with the tips of his tails and continuing to the ends of his ears. When the only thing left was his grin, he spoke, "If you truly want to know, then talk to Bunnie Rabbot. But you'd better hurry: she's not one to wait."

And then Manic was left, alone, confused, hurt, and in a dress that wasn't his own. He snorted and fell backwards, glaring up at the ceiling and realizing that it was gone again.

"… Godammit…"

He inhaled deeply, gagging at the intense taste and closed his eyes. The dress made his legs itch and the dirt under him seemed to be crawling, irritating the back of his neck and head. His arms were throbbing and felt like they were going to start bleeding at any given moment. There was a weight on his chest where he suddenly realized his pendant was glowing, burning away the darkness around him and heating his flesh though the blue and white cloth.

"I need to get out of here," he mumbled. "I need to find Sonic and Sonia. They'd know what to do better than I do." He closed his eyes, hearing the hissing of steam escaping pipes off in the distance. "But I won't find them just laying here." With a deep groan, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet. He felt slightly more steady than he had before, so he slowly began to walk forward, the more movement he went through, the more the pain faded away until it became a silenced nagging in the back of his mind.

He let his fingertips caress the dirt wall as he passed, feeling thick grains coming loose and tumbling to the wooden pathway below him. The darkness around him was oppressive, but the soft emerald light from his pendant guided him forward and gave him courage to call out, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

There came the sound of gears and metal sliding roughly against metal and once again the Rabbit he'd seen was standing before him, tapping one metallic foot and glaring.

" Alice, Ah've tol' you – we're late 'nough as it is. Get th' lead out, gurl." And with that, she turned and fled, feet clanging loudly and echoing throughout the tunnel.

"Hey, wait up!" Manic called, rushing after her and stumbling from the unfamiliarity of his boots. She ignored him, however, instead turning a corner so sharply it was a wonder that she didn't fall over. Manic's pendant was beginning to lose its glow, now beginning to bang roughly against his chest and causing his breath to be forced from him. He gagged as his throat dried out, but couldn't even swallow saliva as there was none – it felt as though cotton were filling his mouth and trachea, moving down deeper into his stomach and further into his legs.

It seemed impossible, but the corner that Bunnie Rabbot had turned was still as far away as ever. His legs were no longer throbbing in pain, instead he couldn't feel them. His lungs burned, however, and he could have sworn that they were on fire had they not been safely tucked away within his body.

'This is insane,' his mind gasped. 'I should have caught up by now! It's like I'm just running in place.' "I need to go faster," he growled out loud.

His left foot suddenly caught the ankle of his right as he moved it and both his legs flew out from under him. The breath was forced from his lungs as he landed with a "whumph" on his back. He blinked stupidly at the roof of rotted dirt and black roots, eyes widening when a blast of glowing purple flew just inches from his face. Without thinking, Manic rolled onto his side (lungs begging for him to be still) and looked up at the impossible.

A six-foot-tall card (the three of clubs he recalled later), was lumbering towards him, holding an ebony staff like a battering ram. Its face was contorted with pain and rage, bloody sweat running down from its forehead. It shrieked wordlessly and howled, pointing the staff once more at Manic's head.

The green Hedgehog scrambled away as another blast of violet caused the ground where he had once been to explode. His ankles were throbbing and he could hear the hem of his skirt rip as it caught on a particularly vicious branch that hadn't been there before. He was gasping and his eyes were blurring as dirt flew into his face. A grunt escaped him as he collided with a wall and he gagged as the dirt reached out to grab his neck, choking him harshly.

'I don't want to die,' was the mantra running through Manic's head. 'I don't want to die, I don't want to die, Idon't want to die, I dont Want to die, Idontwant to Die, IdontwanttoDie, idontwanttodie idontwantTodie iDontwanttoDieidontwanttodieidontwanttodie!!!'

The card howled again, apparently pleased at the sight of Manic struggling wildly for his freedom and his life. The staff was leveled again and a wicked grin stretched crimson lips over yellow teeth.

Time stood still and Manic was acutely aware of the flickering light forming at the tip of the staff. A hum, oddly comforting, resonated into his ears. The dirt around his neck squeezed tighter, as though enjoying this moment. A branch stabbed Manic in the thigh. His pendant had stopped glowing completely. It was cold on his chest through his dress. Gosh his thigh hurt. Was it really a branch? What else would it be?

Just as the light began to crackle loudly like a lightning bolt, Manic reached into the garter around his thigh and pulled out one of his drumsticks. Without a thought, he hurled it, not noticing the soft glimmer it now held, and watched with bulging eyes as it passed straight though the card's throat. It hollered and gurgled, blood spurting from the wound. It collapsed backwards, the staff crashing against the ground. A crack ran up the black wood, from the bottom to the middle, and a red vapor flowed, dissipating into the air.

At the moment of destruction, the dirt around Manic's throat let go, and he bent over, pressing his forehead to the ground. He panted and gasped, gagging and heaving. His throat burned and his eyes watered. Tears dropped from his eyes, creating little splotches of mud under his face.

"Not bad," a sardonic voice said, and Manic looked up to see the two-tailed Fox slowly appear piece by piece. "I didn't think you would actually live."

"Wh… What the hell was that?!" Manic demanded, clenching his fists.

"That was a Card Guard." The unnerving grin seemed to widen. "And you did satisfactory, Alice. Although I do wish you would have killed it sooner – surely the Queen managed to see you through its eyes. She has a habit of doing that, you know."

"The what?" Manic pushed himself standing once again, wanting to lean against the wall, but still wary of it.

"Why, Alice, surely you can recall the Queen of Hearts. She would be very unhappy if you didn't remember her."

Manic glared. "I can't remember her because I'm not Alice, damnit! How many times to I have to tell you?"

The Fox just continued to grin and leapt five feet in the air and didn't come back down. Manic waited for him to fall, and when he didn't, the Hedgehog noticed that both of his tails were whirling and that he was flying – hovering, actually – in the air.

"I'm sure that the Queen would be thrilled to know that," was the only reply before the Cheshire vanished, the grin lingering for a moment longer than the rest of him.

A shiver ran down Manic's spine and he reached up to grab his pendant, still stone-cold.

I don't own Sonic Underground or AMAlice or Bunnie or Tails. So, till next time!