Hello, everyone! This is going to be a sequel story (of sorts) to my fanfiction called "Madness Returns: The Lost Soul, The Broken Mind".
This story will feature my OC from that story, "Kyle Zuclair". It is highly recommended you read through that fanfiction before reading this one.
This fanfiction will have elements of the "American McGee's Alice" video game series in it, but I will also try to put in custom elements too.
Updates on this story will not be scheduled. Whenever I get the inspiration to work on this, I will try to add more to it.
Now, let's get started.
DISCLAIMER: "Alice: Otherlands" is directed by American McGee and produced by Spicy Horse. All credit to things belonging to them and the "American McGee's Alice" video game series belong to their original creators. All other material in this story belongs to the story's author.
Onward!
The rumbling of what sound like thousands of pairs of feet rang against the metal platforms. Bunched up and gazing out of square or triangle-shaped window holes, hundreds of eyes sought view of the dark, dirty arena ground. The crowds of Madcaps, all of them little green or gray-skinned goblins, rapidly filled the available seats to the brim. And then more of them tried to come in and get whatever space they could with a good view.
I don't stand amongst that crowd, but I can picture their enthusiasm very clearly. The metal floor beneath my feet vibrates in response to the great movements several floors below. Standing on a private platform jutting out over the arena, a metal railing is all that separates me from the makeshift stage. The circular space below me is left clean of debris, the black surface glinting as it reflects the artificial lights and lamps scattered around the ring. All the lights give the same muted yellow glow; the glow of the cloudy sky above us all.
The Mad Hatter's Domain is oddly silent. What will soon happen in the arena promises to change that.
I scratch an itch on my neck, my fingers touching my necklace's string as I breathe in the open air around me. Despite my distance from the crowding Madcaps, I smell their sweat rise to my vantage point, the smell mixed with the soot and grime that comes out of a great factory like the Domain holds. The wonders of so-called "industrialization", so the March Hare and Dormouse call it, are truly abound.
A mechanized voice sounds from multiple speakers wired into the arena walls, projecting sound to the assembled crowds. "Madcaps! Mad ones! It's time to vent your anger, spill your vitriol, and dispense of unhygienic attitudes. It's time for the beasts!"
Time to go. I leave the viewing platform to quickly amble down an adjacent spiral staircase, the gloves covering my hands brushing the railings as I rapidly descend. I leave the staircase at a pair of closed metal doors at one level, the metal embossed with a exaggeratedly long and thin top hat. Pushing the doors open with my hands takes some effort and produces a grinding noise that gets the attention of everyone inside the room.
The Mad Hatter sits on a throne made of scrap metal, cogs and bolts jutting out along the edges. A cup of steaming tea sits in one of his hands, the white gloves clutching it tightly. Several paces in front of him, looking out of a double layer of glass to the arena floor, are the Dormouse and March Hare. The two animals mutter greetings to me, sporting the same "augmentations" I remember from when they had been adversaries to me. But their focus is clearly on the match, which they continue to talk about as I approach the viewing window.
"My factory's crew will tear your paltry creation to shreds, rabbit!" growls the Dormouse.
"Yer beastie doesn't hold a candle stump to mine, mouse!" the Hare retorts. "Admit it, I've got the better brain."
The Dormouse sniffs loudly, as if her nose was filled with something she wants violently expelled. "Your confidence won't help you here."
"Ye say that, but will yer minions back it on the battlefield?" The Hare's ears wiggle wildly as he shakes his head at his competitor. At the same time, two sections of the arena's metal ring open to let something enter from the space outside. The Madcaps start cheering as two metallic creatures enter the ring, lumbering beneath the Domain's muted colors with bodies of broken metal and repurposed components.
The first 'beast' is a metallic spider, driven by a team of ten Madcaps all stationed around the creature's circular back and reinforced neck. The two pilots driving the head sit in a partially open cockpit together, while one of the creature's legs is given to each of the remaining crew. As it takes its position, the head pilots make the spider's elongated front mandibles snap together aggressively.
The spider's opponent is a metal cat, or what I think is one. Five Madcaps sit in a long line along the cat's spine; the one farthest back sits reversed from the others to get a clear view of the cat's spiked tail. The tail's heavy end, bristling with pointy bits, thumps against the ground as its head turns to look at the enemy. Its jaws open and close from a few motions by the pilots, revealing silver-coated fangs.
A short ringing noise comes before the metallic voice addresses the crowd again. "These creatures, piloted by the maddest among us, are ready to entertain you. Let them hear your excitement!"
Cheers ring from the audience, coming clearly through the windows despite being slightly muted by them. "Ah," the Hatter remarks as the wave of sound washes over his ears, "the cheers of blood-lusting laborers go succulently with my Earl Grey."
"Working them to the bone will do that, ya jackass," the March Hare grumbles, only to give the Hatter a wide smile when the man gives a withering glare in return. The Dormouse shakes her head at the visible animosity and wheels herself over to the rear space of the room where a long radio receiver lies attached to a series of black wires and hanging on a metallic perch.
"At a word from the Mad Hatter," the mechanical voice announces, "the fight will begin!"
The Dormouse unhooks the receiver from its perch and pulls it towards the Hatter's seat. The ruler of the Domain stands and brushes dust off his sleeves, shaking his arms afterwards like there's especially clingy pieces on his limbs that only he can see. He snatches the receiver from the Dormouse when she gets close enough for him to reach.
"Don't make me spill my tea," the Hatter shouts into the receiver so close to his lips I'm surprised he isn't spitting on it. "Other than that, hats off to you!"
The Hatter then tosses the receiver back to the Dormouse, not watching her flail and dart around to catch the object before it crashes on the floor. The loud clacking noise this makes through the arena's loudspeakers doesn't make me flinch.
My eyes turn to the window as the beasts begin to move. Smoke belches from pipes and exhaust ports located on their bodies, the pilots working hard to produce specific motions. The spider's legs click one by one on the ground as its head tilts down low. The cat crouches low as well, a motorized growl coming from it as it stares the spider down.
The arachnid's legs start moving in pairs and threes; all eight of them operate in sequence as the crew prove their piloting capabilities. A sudden swipe from the cat doesn't get close to the spider, but it gets an excited roar from the crowd. The spider's mandibles snap quickly as its thorax curls up and back. And then it barrels forward with a storm of metal legs and red eyes.
The cat's tail whips to one side as it sees the spider coming; the feline's crew only jerk their beast back when the spider is almost on top of them. Its claws scrape on the ground for a second as it escapes assault. But it charges forward a moment later, raising a paw to swipe again. This impact hits the spider's side and legs, not breaking anything but producing sparks as metal slides against metal.
The spider jerks away, adjusting its posture and keeping its front end angled towards the cat. The feline's crew, for their part, try to get an angle of attack away from those mandibles, moving from one side and then the other with crouched springs. The beasts move slowly towards one of the arena walls as the Madcaps watching egg the crews on with taunts and jeers. I can't tell which crew is in their favor, or if they just want to see blood be spilled.
They do not have to wait much longer.
When the spider has its literal back against the wall, the cat's pilots thrust their creation forward and open its jaws wide. The spider's front crew bring the head up to try and get a skewering in with the mandibles as the cat lands its front paws and fangs on the spider's neck and back. The spider's crew scream and jerk around beneath the cat's fangs, claws wedging into open gaps between metal pieces and ripping them apart. The cat's body blocks some of the view as I press myself against the window and squint my eyes to better see what is happening.
The spider suddenly bucks upward, springing its legs up straight. The cat fumbles in its hold and rolls off the spider's body; a harsh screech comes as the beasts reorient themselves. The spider's mandibles sport oil on their surface, proving they had struck a blow. The Madcaps' fervor rallies at this sight and by the sight of visible damage to the insects' back. Some of the Madcaps controlling spider legs are not moving much, or at all.
"No!" The Dormouse exclaims from her place by the windows. "Without control over all the legs, they're going to lose!"
"Damn right, sweet cheeks!" the March Hare laughs. "And ye'll get to watch them be kibble and bits in a second!"
I keep my eyes on the battle as the cat thrusts its tail forward. The spiked end whooshes past the spider's face, causing the crew sitting there to pull back. The second tail thrust prompts the spider to snap at it, and it barely misses. The crew controlling the cat's tail pulls it back as the paw controller's get a two-hit combo on the spider's front. Not much damage is caused, but the beast's crew take a defensive posture, stumbling around with some legs not moving correctly.
Suddenly, the audience roars with delight. I blink confusedly, and then see a glistening trail of oil all along the arena floor. The spider's bite! It had caused damage, and no one saw it! A grin spreads over my face as the battle continues, both beasts trading close blows and circling around each other, not taking a decisive strike.
The cat makes the next big move, charging forward on all fours. As the spider bends its face low to meet it head-on, the cat's crew jerk several levers as hard as they can. The cat launches itself up and over the spider's body, its crew looking up in surprise as the cat's shadow passes over them. When the cat lands, it whips its tail at the spider's thorax and rear legs, denting the surface in multiple places. Then, before the spider can fully turn around, the cat brings its front paws up and grabs the circular target before it with fang and claw.
The Madcaps sound jubilated as the cat digs its pointed bits into the spider's rear. The closet crew squeal as scrap pieces, bolts, screws, steam, and oil all go flying. The spider echoes that noise with its own cry and tries to spring itself free with the same trick as before. This time the cat stays attached, but the crew controlling its head barely stay in their seats. The cat's paws press even deeper, raking beneath the metal plates to find the vital components within.
"That's it!" the March Hare encourages the cat's crew. "Keep at it, ye've almost got 'em!"
The Hare then quickly cries out along with the Dormouse and myself as, in the blink of an eye, the spider's back detonates with a wet-sounding explosion. The cat pulls back with wild motions from its crew, the entire head engulfed in fire and bubbling oil. The rest of that beast's crew shout to their companions as they try to put out their own burns.
As the cat bumbles around, the Madcaps controlling its legs trying to keep it away from further damage, the front half of the spider crawls forward. Half of its crew are either lying dead in pools of oil and metal pieces or jerking and pounding levers and pedals to make their creation move closer to its target. The spider gets to a melee distance with the disoriented cat, raises one of its still-functioning front legs high up.
I am tense for what's to come. I am not disappointed when the leg comes down hard, gouging into the cat's face and jaw. It takes a few tugs to get it back out. The cat's left eye is gone, its jaw hanging open as more oil dribbles onto the arena floor. The head is almost completely inert now, both its pilots dead or just hanging on to life from burn wounds.
"Gack!" the Hatter spits. "This is putting me off my appetite." He listens to the raptured audience watching the fight and lets out a quick giggle. "Ah, no it isn't." And then he sips his tea like nothing is wrong in his world.
"Tear them apart, you idiots!" the Dormouse screams.
"Clinch the win, ye black-balled bastards!" bellows the March Hare.
I smirk at the belting orders from the Hare and Dormouse. These two just don't care, do they? Then again, with what they have been through, they deserve the chance to vent their rage as much as any Madcap here.
The beasts, and their crew, appear spent at this point: the spider is missing its back half and most of its legs; the cat's head is proving a major problem for its crew by blocking any sight of the enemy.
The crews work feverishly to make a mark, score a telling blow, prove their work superior, but the beasts just crawl around and trail more oil and, in the spider's case, internal workings. It looks like the machines will wear themselves out before a victor is found. But then the cat's head jerks up, the mouth closing with broken fangs. I cup my hands over my eyes to see better as, to my amazement, one of the charred Madcaps gains his second wind.
The one-eyed feline lurches towards the spider and unhinges its jaw as far as it can go. The spider jerks its head to the side just in time, earning a clamping bite on the neck instead of the face.
The Madcaps roar their approval. The cat falls on its side, using all four paws to dig and cut at the gaping hole at the spider's back. Defiantly, the spider's remaining crew use their working mechanical legs as makeshift spears to ram through the enemy's body. More scrap and oil flow from the spider's insides, every second draining the beast's strength further.
With one final slash, a giant piece of the spider's internal parts falls out of its body. The beast instantly slumps, its eyes losing their glow. The cat's crew make it clamber up to the spider's head, heedless of the enemy crew struggling to escape. A few jerks of the cat's claws tear the spider's head off from the body, wires and bolts scattering across the floor. Black oil gushes out of the opened neck cavity. Then the cat's head falls limp as the victor crumples in a rapidly expanding pool of its own oil.
"Splendid!" I hear the Mad Hatter clap enthusiastically at the sight. "Well done, yes, well done!"
It certainly looks well done; the arena has several pools of oil and scattered debris near the outer ring, and near the center the surviving Madcaps climb out of their machines to take stock. The cat's crew slap each other on their big noses and cackle jubilantly; the spider's crew shiver with fearful glances at the enemy. The cat has won, even if it gave out at the final moment.
I smile discreetly as I look over the cat's body. I know one cat who would certainly enjoy this sight. Very much so. Maybe they'd enjoy hearing about it later?
"Enough lollygagging!" the Hatter's voice thunders through the arena's speakers. I jump at the sound; when did he get that speaker back into his hands!? He continues with another order: "Someone clean up that floor before I drop some Darjeeling to make it mirror-bright!"
The Hatter's word being law, I see streams of new Madcaps rush out from behind the arena walls with large utensils and misshapen tools. The dead crewmembers leave in their hands to an unseen destination, and the surviving crew leave by a separate exit to get patched up and treated for injuries. I hope.
"Worth the sight, boy?" I turn to face the Hatter as he speaks to me for the first time since I had arrived. The Dormouse and Hare stop a bout of quiet squabbling to look at me as well. "You see what we've been working on. No idle hands here."
"I can see that, clearly." I smile confidently at the towering man. "These machines will certainly help wipe out the final patches of Ruin."
"Blither and muck!" the Hare growls, ripping off his monocle to wipe it clean with a paw. "Don't talk about that icky stuff, we've seen enough of it already!"
I sigh as the Hare puts his monocle back in place. "You do not need to remind me," I tell the partly mechanized rabbit. "But until the Ruin is erased for good, nowhere will be safe from it. Even these beasts," I add with a gesture to the arena below, "may not be enough if we let it grow again."
"Then stop wasting time with this talk!" The Mad Hatter pounds a fist into his other hand, standing defiant and proud by his scrap throne. "We'll be ready when the clock chimes, even if we've got to bring our teacups to the battle lines to drink sweet victory. That's what our oh-so-darling Alice wants, isn't it?"
I smile at the Hatter's confidence, but my insides churn with worry. Oh, if only you knew…
[SOME TIME LATER]
I stand atop the largest of a giant pile of mushrooms in the new "Londerland", the plants crammed between two buildings made of brick and stone. People in varying states of dress move past giant snails and human-sized ants in origami robes with no reaction at all. Humidity mingles with smoke in the air, the combined senses curling in my nostrils like the Hatter's tea.
Sweat drips down my skin, and I see growing stains on my blue shirt and black trousers. Huffing, I unbutton my black suit coat to cool off and contemplate unbuckling my boots to give my feet some clean air. The fact my clothing changes based on where I am in Wonderland has become more inconvenient over time. It suits in some places, but this "Londerland" is not one of them.
I look up from the street to the building opposite me, a single-story space made with vines and bricks with a small garden on the rooftop. A giant teapot sports the bracers of a water tower one block further than that, its surface showing the painted words, "FRESH TEARS"; a callback to the Vale of Tear's waterfalls. The sky is blue with several gray clouds on the horizon. If those clouds bring rain, I want to be indoors before that happens.
My irritableness at this new world grows to a simmering contempt. I thought this place would be a paradise, a combination of both London and Wonderland. The joy I felt when I realized I had not died against the Dollmaker surpassed all other emotions. As the days passed, that joy turned into a reluctant acceptance of the new reality. Everything has changed, and I have been forced to adapt to keep up.
One example of this sort of change concerns the mushrooms that are growing here. The blue mushrooms that brought Alice and me from place to place are gone, and I haven't seen a pink one since waking up here. Getting to the Hatter's Domain, and then back here, had required me to pass through a new limitation for travelling.
A literal wall of cloud-stuff, dense and dark enough to block out sight of what lies beyond it, blocks the way out. The mist is safe to walk through, not that anyone has been willing to try it besides me. You just need to know where you want to go and be willing to walk through a chill that seeps down into your bones.
Maybe that time should be now.
I stand up from my perch, take several steps back, and race to the building's edge. I channel the inner power within my body into my feet and release it when I start to step over the edge. The power explodes out of my body as white mist and a loud burst of sound, sending me flying where I want to go. I tuck my limbs in to roll with my landing on another building, springing back up to keep running on the roof's surface.
Another mist-powered leap gets me to the top of a full-body stone statue of Wonderland's original creator. Standing two stories tall, the stone Alice Liddel sports a calm happiness as she stares with sightless eyes at the skies beyond.
I feel admiration towards the depicted girl as I climb onto one of the statue's shoulders. Alice deserves so much respect. She made this place, made me, for her own fantastical reasons. And she's never told anyone why.
My admiration sinks off my body like the sweat on my skin as I remember something is missing from this beauty; Alice herself.
I have not seen Alice since she first wandered off into Londerland. Two possible reasons for this stick in my brain. The first is that she wants some personal space, which she rightfully deserves. The second reason, and more worrying one, is that she has tired of the Wonderland she knows and wants to explore new lands again.
"Alice," I whisper to the statue, "where are you now?"
The statue does not answer back, and neither do the pair of large blue-and brown birds with cow heads that lazily fly by the statue's front. I watch the birds as they dart at each other, squabbling with quiet moos. They fly away before I can see the outcome of their bickering, and I turn my eyes to the hanging Sun in the sky. It has not moved or set since the "Liberation", and that was… a good time ago.
The air around me ripples. I look just beside me and see the Cheshire Cat perched carefully on the same shoulder of the statue I am on. His scarred ears flick twice when he notices me; that constant grin is still as wide as ever, those teeth still stained with blood. His matted gray fur hangs onto his skin, the bones slightly visible beneath. His eyes glint alternating shades of green and yellow when they see my somewhat-precarious posture.
"You seem at a loss," the feline comments, stating the obvious. "But," he adds with a flick of his tail that shows the large tuft on the end, "one often gets a better view of the situation from higher ground."
"Hello, Cheshire," I quietly greet, wiser now to his antics. "How are you today?"
The cat gives me another look. "Better than you are, apparently." He slowly sits on his haunches. I can't scoot over to give him more room without the risk of falling off myself. The end of his tail pokes against my side each time he flicks it, but I don't complain.
"Cat got your tongue this time?" the cat snidely asks after some moments of silence between us.
"I don't know," I bemoan as I shake my head, "Things just don't feel right without Alice here."
"Are you suggesting she be confined to a single space? Because if you are," the Cat explains with a sharp poke from his tail, "she will fight you tooth and nail to remain free. We all would. We're all mad here."
"We're mad with what?" I question despite knowing the answer deep inside myself. "Freedom? Is that the best answer?"
Cheshire's eyes narrow at me. "A close enough guess. Something is always lost in translation, I'm afraid."
I turn back to the bizarre horizon with no real interest in anything I can see below me. "How are things where you've been?" I then ask the cat.
"Perfectly normal, I'm afraid." I hear a slight shink as something sharp digs into the stone beneath us. "Nothing worth sharpening my claws on. There are a few ongoing issues, of course, but that's hardly new here."
"I probably haven't heard of those issues," I admit. "Other than the Ruin, of course. The Mad Hatter called me for a grand demonstration of his newest robots to fight the Dollmaker's remnants."
"Ah," the cat remarks with a witty purring noise, "a new pastime! Don't keep a cat like me waiting, how did it go? Was it purrrfect, was it everything you expected?"
I describe the battle as best I can. Cheshire, for his part, listens with only an occasional glance at his surroundings. He purrs in satisfaction at the cat robot's victory but says or does nothing else until I finish. Then he is silent for another few moments.
"Amusements and theatrics are not the only path to victory." That mangy tail flicks roughly against the statue as the cat talks, his strokes quick and sharp. "But they're a damn good one. The Hatter has his own talents, as do all of us. Better to not attract ire at this stage."
"True. But once the Ruin is gone for good, you can ask the Hatter for a cup of your favorite flavored tea." I smile jokingly at him, and he flattens one of his tattered ears in understanding. Then he vanishes with those special evaporating skills he loves talking about.
Left alone again, I tuck my feet in and crouch down on my perch, twisting my body around to see where I could jump off to next. I don't want to go back the way I came, so that leaves three options.
To my left are trees growing alongside grim-looking buildings with no real pattern to their placement. To my right is a large clock tower several blocks away standing taller than anything else around it. Two blocks behind me there is a small park with some trees and three separate ponds. I'm too far away to see the contents of those ponds.
The park seems like the best option, so I jump off the statue in that direction. Unfortunately, I don't jump far enough to reach the next roof, which means I land on the street and make a small crater. My mist powers instantly work to heal the damage over several seconds. Once I get back on my feet and climb out the crater, I notice everyone' eyes on me. My cheeks turn hot in embarrassment as the wizened faces of two old women with wooden canes raise their pointed noses at me as if I smell terrible.
I smack my head at how stupid I was just acting. A moment later I hear someone nearby rant about "unethical behavior" and "improper aerial tricks". I look in the direction of the voice and see a bright green frog wearing a fancy uniform and pants. A closer look shows me the pants don't go below its knees; the uniform itself is made of red and white blotches of fabric sown together in a checkerboard pattern, black-colored guards sticking out on either side like pike curved discs.
"No one diving out of the sky should be allowed to walk on their own, I tell you!" I blink in confusion for a moment at the frog's deep male voice while the creature brushes some dust from its chest. The well-dressed animal then turns to me and loudly proclaims, "You nearly made me throw up today's lunch!" to my face. Luckily, I know how to keep my composure.
"I'm very sorry, Sir," I reply as politely as I can to the angry amphibian, "I was trying to get from that statue over there…" I point to the Alice statue and then at the nearby building, "… to there. I didn't jump far enough and ended up here." I finish with both fingers pointing down at the crater.
"That is no excuse for your attitude!" the frog snaps, his lips opening and closing very quickly. "In my youth I didn't go leaping around with my head in the clouds, no! That was a quick way to get eaten, yes indeed!" The frog adds what sounds to me like a blubbering sigh while his lips flap like sails on a boat. I snort but don't laugh. The frog is too caught up in his own boisterous action to notice mine.
"Well," I say after the frog gives a bit more attention to cleaning his uniform of excess dust, "I will leave you alone now." I turn away only for the frog to grab my wrist with a cold hand and exclaim "Half a second more!" very close to my ear. I wince at the sound but keep still.
"It took me a few moments to recognize you," the frog rumbles, "but you are the person I've been looking for." This makes me even more worried. He leans back, ruffles around in the pocket of his uniform, and pulls out a folded piece of white paper. He gives this to me with a firm, "This message is for you, Liberator."
It takes me several moments to realize that the title of "Liberator" is supposed to be a name for me. I have not been addressed that way before. My fingers feel cold as I take the paper and look at it. It has a red circular seal keeping the paper closed, the seal adding some weight.
I rub a finger along the seal and feel like I'm touching dry skin. The frog suddenly leans in closer to me and mutters, "Take a footman's advice. Open that when you are alone." He then walks away at a quick but steady pace, leaving me by the crater with no further clues to what I was just given.
I look back to the message, and then double-check the various city dwellers passing by. No one gives me a second glance as I walk towards the park I had seen before for some privacy.
The park has a few private spaces under trees made of wood or metal. The lakes have black, white and blue fish arranged randomly in the water. I choose to sit beneath a natural tree because the metallic trees have branches that stick out straight like spikes, rather than the curving and stretching branches of the organic ones. I don't want to risk skewering my head on the lower-hanging branches and the organic trees have leaves that fall to the ground.
Once sitting in the shade of the proper kind of tree, I pop the seal with a quick tug. The paper instantly unfolds on its own and bombards my eyes with curving borders and cursive script, all written in dark red ink. I also smell a faint trace of blood from the paper, which makes my stomach twist from hunger. I resolve to eat something as I read the letter over.
"Liberator,
You are summoned to provide aid to Her Royal Majesty, the Red Queen, Empress of her Domain, in a matter most dire. Present this paper at the gates to Queensland to be escorted to the Heart. A failure in punctuality will result in either banishment or immediate execution, depending on Her Royal Majesty's state of unbound sanity."
I burst into a cold sweat as I read the letter again, making my clothes feel even stickier. Sticky clothes are a pittance compared to the feeling of dread I get by asking myself an obvious question: Should I go to Queensland at all?
Queensland had, and still has, a lot of dangerous things in it, the greatest of which is its Queen herself. The last time we met, the Red Queen very nearly turned me into her brainwashed servant against Alice. Later, in the Infernal Train, the Queen had said I must remember how she uses power. I think she tolerates me, but that does not mean I am free to go and talk to her whenever I want.
If the Queen summons me, though… that sounds like she's asking for my help. The note did say this was a "problem most dire", but what could that mean to her? She has her Card Guards to protect her, right?
I let out a slow breath through my nose, fold up the invitation and mentally plan things out for the next while. First task is to look for a place to get some food. Something good in my stomach will help me think more clearly. I slip the invitation into my suit's breast pocket and walk by the three ponds to the park's exit. A few minutes later and several blocks away, I step into a bustling and crowded market very similar to London's High Street. The biggest differences are the more exotic wares and the walking and talking insects that sell them.
"Fresh fish and mackerel," shouts a praying mantis wearing a white apron, "twenty pence a pound! Chicken leg and wing, eight pence a pair! Salt and pepper an extra two pence each! We cut 'em, you buy 'em!"
I reach into all my pockets to find any kind of coin I've scavenged since "Liberation" came to pass. I wind up with enough total pence to purchase a pair of chicken bits. The mantis grunts as he takes the money, turns away to chop out the required parts and then gives them to me in a small paper bag. I slip away from his stall just as he starts to call out to more people. It takes me a few minutes' searching to find a quiet spot beside a small bookstore two blocks away. I stand against the wall and reach in for my still-warm food.
The meat is hard to chew but its flavor is good after all that tea. I slowly eat it, savoring each bite. When it's done, I look skyward. It is now overcast. Not wanting my clothes to be completely soaked, I Rain look for an indoor shelter. I start to head away from the market but stop at seeing a pair of Origami Ants near the outskirts of the market selling pieces of pottery. The Ants must still trust me, right?
As I approach the Ants, I see both have shaved heads and long antennae, the same brown robes from the Grove covering their bodies. There is no one else by their shop now. A quick, "Hello!" from me prompts the closer one's antennae to wiggle excitedly.
"Welcome, Great Warrior," it greets me in a crisp female voice, "it is fortunate indeed that you have approached us!" The other Ant now turns and bows its head to me, which I return. "What can we do for you?" asks the female.
"I need a place to sleep for tonight," I explain. "I'm heading out of here tomorrow on a journey—"
"Yes, yes," she interrupts me with a few nods, "I understand. We have a spare futon bed you can use for the night. If you come with me, I can get it set up for you. No charge, of course!"
I smile in gratitude as the woman brings me to a large tent just by their selling space, made of red and green fabrics and tied together with twine and thread. The tent's entryway has long strings of brown beads that jangle as we make our way inside, the interior one big space with no widows. Several mattresses with small covers rest on opposite sides of the space; nothing else is set down.
The monk goes to a darker corner and pulls out a mattress folded many times over. She uses her two hands to unfold the bed and place it in the center of the room. As she does so she tells me that "All our brothers and sisters know what you have done and are thankful for your efforts, Great Warrior. With the leader of the Wasps dead, they will not harm us or our way of life again."
"Hijime!" A male voice calls into the tent from outside. "I need you out here!" The woman visibly starts and mutters an apology to me as she shuffles out of the door. I wait a moment to see if she has anything else to say, but she does not come back. I step back outside to place my empty paper bag in a corner where no one is right now. I then go back into the house again and get into the futon. It isn't dark outside yet, but I will need all the sleep I can get for tomorrow.
I can't stop a sense of discontent from growing in my chest as I try to fall asleep. Alice isn't here now, and I could really use her help. All of Wonderland could, I think. Why isn't she here? Where did she go? Is she still mad wherever she is?
My mind bubbles with questions as my body's senses fade into the darkness of sleep.
Alright, that's all for now.
As I said, I will update this story when I feel I can do so.
Any reviews, feedback, and constructive criticism you choose to give is appreciated.
Draconos is taking off!