Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. “Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?” he asked.

“Begin at the beginning,” the King said gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” ¹

🔵

A middle-aged man pried open the lower sash of his bedroom window, filling the room with a balmy April breeze and a burst of vibrant birdsong. A shower of stale dust fell from the top edge of the window frame. He shook off his shaggy black curls and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to cough into his fist.

"Viktor, are you alright?" a blonde woman in Victorian attire asked from across the room.

Viktor waved off his wife's concern, his eyes still watering. "Haven't opened these all winter," he choked. "I should have dusted them off first."

Alice nodded, her blue eyes darting back to the stacks of paper she was sorting into neat piles on their bed. "We've really been needing this top-to-bottom clean, starting with these old portfolios and music books. I don't think you play half these songs anymore."

"Sentimental value, Alice. You know me; I'm not the type to discard things on a whim."

"True, but according to our storage space, you could stand to be a bit more cutthroat about it," she teased. He sighed in sarcastic distress, then paused to remove his suit jacket before continuing with the second window.

A huffing from the hallway announced the arrival of their daughter pulling a massive wooden chest behind her. The raven-haired twelve-year-old rounded the corner and dropped her end of the trunk with an indelicate thud.

"Madeline, I thought you were cleaning out the hallway closet," Alice chided. "Why are you dragging that old chest in here?"

"It won’t open, and it's too heavy to carry!"

Viktor paused his work to examine the lock on the chest. "Hmm. I don't remember what's inside it. Perhaps we can search the closet for the key?"

"I have a better idea," Alice said. She plucked a pin from her hair and bent at the waist to fiddle with the lock, inserting the pin inside the keyhole and twisting it clockwise. The lock popped open with a satisfying click. Viktor gave her an amusingly suspicious glare.

"Plenty of locks in the villa I didn't have the keys for," she said, shrugging.

"Look!" Madeline cried out. "Fancy clothes!"

"Ah, that was your mother's old maid uniform," Viktor corrected with warm fondness. "Been some time since I've seen it."

"Oh, I haven't worn that since…" Alice met her husband's sheepish gaze and quickly shifted the conversation. "Look, Viktor, your grandfather's hat!"

Viktor picked up the old beaver-felt top hat and dusted off the brim. "I've been wondering where this ended up."

"Put it on," Alice suggested.

Viktor placed the hat on his head. "What do I get in return?" he said with a stifled grin. He nodded to her uniform; her eyes narrowed in a playful warning.

"What about this?" Madeline interrupted. She lifted an old tarnished pocket watch from the bottom of the chest. "Was this one of yours?"

Viktor took the watch and inspected it closely. He ran his thumb across the gold cover, embossed with the image of a rabbit's head in profile. "No… I don't believe it is. Doesn't seem familiar."

Alice observed the watch curiously until her eyes widened with worry. "Viktor…"

"Let me see it," Madeline said, snatching the watch back.

"Now, be gentle with it, Madeline. It could be an antique," Viktor warned.

"Sweetheart!" Alice pressed, a hand reaching out.

"Papa, can I keep it? Even if it doesn't work?"

"Why would you want an old pocket watch?"

"Viktor, don't let her—"

"Don't fret, Mama, it's just an old watch," Madeline assured. "You see?" She flipped the cover and popped the crown, turning it and causing the hands to fly forward with unnatural speed. Satisfied with her demonstration, her thumb hit the crown into working position, and she clacked the case shut.

"Just an old—"

With a sickening lurch, the room took on an immediate, jelly-like constitution. The furniture violently stretched and squashed under a glaze of bright purple. Alice instantly wrapped her daughter in a vise-like hug while Viktor grasped his wife's midsection protectively. Together they struggled to pull themselves from the inescapable gravitational force that was drawing them towards the watch.

It was no use; the remainder of their memories was a cold, desolate nothingness, robbed of all sensation save for that of falling.

Falling…

Falling…

Down.

🟣

“Hatter, I think this horse is broken,” the boy called out, “Can we swap again?”

The man in a porkpie hat hung his head and exchanged a side glance with the brunette woman next to him before bringing his horse around.

“Like I said earlier, Harry,” Hatter lectured as he turned and pulled his horse alongside the boy. “You’ve gotta be firm with horses, yeah? Otherwise they’ll just faff about all hither and thither. Fine if you’re ridin’ for leisure, but we’re at risk of a Jabberwock crossin’ our ways in Tulgey woods. You know that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt ‘em,” Harry pouted, “Can’t I ride with you?”

Hatter flicked Harry’s trilby hat. “Nope,” he replied with a popped ‘p’ sound, “You wanted your own, so you’ve gotta manage it all the way back to the city.”

They caught back up with the woman and she gave Harry a reassuring rub on his back. “Hey I get it,” she consoled, “I’m not a big fan of horses either but Hatter’s right, you wanted the responsibility of riding on your own and now you have to see it through.”

Harry nodded, sighed, straightened up, and whispered an apology before jabbing his heels into the horse’s sides. The horse whinnied loudly and took off at a breakneck pace with Harry’s cries of terror and delight trailing behind.

“Not… not that firm. Harry!”

Hatter spurred his own horse into action and rode down the forest path after him. He caught up several yards later near one of the enormous oak trees that lined the way and snatched the reins to bring them both to a stop. “Right. I’m thinkin’ maybe you should ride with me.”

Harry huffed and vigorously nodded, “I’m thinkin’ that’s good logic.” Hatter smirked and went to reply when something launched out of a large hole at the base of the tree.

“AAAhhhhhhh!”

Their horses startled, reared, and threw them off before sprinting away.

“Blimey,” Harry whispered, gaze fixed on the shape.

The cousins watched as it shifted into three people who landed on the other side of the path. Shaking out of their shock, they scrambled to their feet and went to help the newcomers. Harry sprinted to the farthest squealing figure, while Hatter approached the closest one. 

“Madeline!” the man shouted as he tried to pull off a large top hat that had been wedged on, “Alice! Madeline! Are you both alright?!”

“Allow me,” Hatter said as he gripped the hat brim, gave it a twist and a turn, before lifting it off.

“Thank you,” the man sighed, “I appreciate the assist-”

The pair locked eyes and Hatter released the man’s hat. He squinted and leaned back while the man looked him up and down.

“Duke of… Clubs? Was it?” Hatter hesitatingly offered.

The man’s eyes widened. “Allliicee!” He cried and whipped his head around before running over to a blonde woman who had finally righted herself. “Alice! The watch brought us back to the terrible dream!”

Hoof prints approached and came to a sudden stop next to Hatter and he looked up at the woman. “I came as fast as I could,” she huffed and he moved to help her dismount. “What happened? Is Harry okay? Where are your horses?”

“Yeah, and dunno,” Hatter replied. He looked over at the couple and further beyond where Harry was being swatted at by a young girl. “Think a kettle of onions² may have fallen in our laps though.”

He whistled and everyone turned to face him. “Right so uh, nice to see you both again,” he greeted and then gestured to the kids, “See you worked out the no touchin’ problem.” The Duke glared at him while the blonde giggled as she brushed some stray leaves off. “But uhhh, how is it you came flyin’ out of a rabbit hole? Time bubble at least made sense.”

“Time bubble?” the Duke asked and the blonde placed a hand on his arm.

“The shiny ball from last time dear, remember?”

“I very unfortunately do,” the Duke grumbled and squinted at Hatter. “You hardly look older, but then I suppose dream beings don’t age.”

“Dream beings?” the brunette asked and Hatter held up a hand.

“Yeah, I’d thought the Duke was just deep in his cups but…” Hatter frowned and walked over to pinch the man’s arm.

“OW!” he exclaimed and held the spot with his other hand, “That hurt you-” His eyes went wide and he faced the blonde. “Alice… Please tell me this is a dream and we didn’t just get sucked into a real Wonderland but it’s that terrible one?”

The blonde, Alice, smiled sadly and kissed him. “I think it was always real.”

“Oookay,” Hatter started, “Quick introductions before we have a talk and walk as we cannot be hangin’ about. Hatter and, well, Alice.” He gestured to himself and the brunette woman.

The Duke smirked, “So much for not getting involved with an Alice.”

“Wait what?” Brunette Alice asked.

“No idea!” Hatter denied, his voice high and smile strained. “This is also Alice and her Duke-”

“Viktor,” the man corrected, “I gave up my dukedom to be with Alice.”

“Really?” Hatter asked, eyes wide. Viktor nodded and grabbed blonde Alice’s hand. Hatter tilted his head, “Huh. Now that is a wonder.”

“Papa!” a girl shouted a short distance away, and they all turned to see the two children tugging something between them. “Papa, the witch touched me and tried to show me his magic trick!!”

“What?!” Viktor exclaimed.

“Harry would never-”

“I just helped her up and healed her leg!” Harry insisted, tugging on the mystery cord, “And I told ya, I’m not a witch!”

“And he’s a thief, Papa! He’s trying to steal my watch!”

“It’s a White Rabbit watch!” Harry explained, “I was just tryin’ to get a good look before givin’ it back.  I think-”

The sound of a horse's hooves cut everyone off and the pair that had left before came galloping on by.

“Oh,” blonde Alice said as they watched them leave, “Those would have been helpful.”

“Yeah, that’s not a good sign,” Hatter added, his voice strained, just before pounding footsteps approached from where the horses appeared. A massive creature with long arms, claw-tipped paws and a rabbit-like face on top of a long serpentine neck galumphed ³ towards them.

“This is why we don’t linger in the woods!”

It burbled a 'ki-whee' and outgrabe ⁴ as it stomped closer, before the ground suddenly swallowed it up.

Silence surrounded the stunned travelers as they simply stared where a portal of some kind had taken the creature away. “Well,” brunette Alice breathed, “guess we got a lucky break this ti-”

“AAhhhh!”

The adults turned as one to see the children vanish into a similar mysterious portal.

“Madeline!” blonde Alice screamed and struggled against Viktor’s hold.

“Harry!” Hatter bellowed and ran towards the open portal, brunette Alice on his heels, but the portal zipped towards them and swallowed the adults before winking out of existence.

The lone horse snuffed, shook its head and slowly wandered off to find a nice patch of grass.

🔴

"Fantisma, I'm going to need you to stand down," Frostfire said.

She held one fist balled up, a halo of ice crystals dancing around it; her other hand was open, palm-up, with slowly spinning orb of fire hovering an inch and a half in the air above it. Behind her stood a half-dozen of her loyalists, the Outsiders. Closest to her was one with feline features; another with orange-hued skin; one with dark streaks under their skin and eyes with a black glow.

A woman, Fantisma, floated above Frostfire's eye-line, and off the rooftop. She continued on, gradually reducing the distance between them.

Fantisma sighed, not bothering to hide her frustration. "Frostfire, come on. I'm not here to get involved in the Hollows. I'm not here for you, or your Outsiders." She paused her descent, almost standing on the rooftop. "I'm only coming into the Hollows for Ringleader."

Frostfire's eyes lit up in recognition and then narrowed. Her light green skin tone and bright blue eyes lent her an excellent poker face. Fantisma continued, "He led a group of Sky Raiders on a theft at Halcyon University. I saw their damaged skiff descending into your northeast end. I'm just here for Ringleader. Everyone else, including the Sky Raiders if you want them, is your business."

"Ringleader — the magical hat guy? Carnival-themed, red jacket with tails, bally stick?" Frostfire confirmed.

When Fantisma nodded, Frostfire considered the situation. "His hat's a tiger by the tail, isn't it? Chaos magic? Some sort of … imagination control?"

Fantisma deliberately set her feet down on the roof; she was considerably shorter than Frostfire from here, hopefully helping the other woman feel confident in the situation.

Frostfire sighed. "Point is, he's not a mutant, and ... it's better if he's not here." She gave a slight nod, and flexed her hand; the halo of ice and the sphere of fire disappeared, though her body didn't relax, and her face remained grim. "In and out. Ringleader."

"In and out," Fantisma nodded. "I'm here to help you avoid problems."

Frostfire's shoulders relaxed and it produced a ripple effect among her followers. "If you need a hand, my people know that end of the Hollows pretty well. If Ringleader has gotten a chance to get holed up ..."

There was a cracking sound, like the snapping of a colossal piece of glass, accompanied by a black lightning bolt from the clear skies, that seemed to land in the northeast. Half a beat later, there was a keening roar-hiss, as if a colossal and angry lion-like reptile was making its opinion clear.

Fantisma arced into the sky, up and over the building, sailing in the direction of the black lightning. Frostfire headed straight towards the fire escape, calling after her, "Meet you there!"

Fantisma felt her lip twitch. Frostfire was more invested in being seen making sure Fantisma didn't interfere in her little fiefdom than making sure people didn't get hurt by whatever Ringleader's chaos magic was channeling this time. He’d stolen only one thing from Halcyon University — a pocket watch that researchers apparently believed was "not of this world".

She pushed those concerns out of her mind as she descended towards the disturbance.

Moving among the damaged buildings with cracked facades — remnants of the battle that had created The Hollows — was a thirty foot long lizard-bug-thing, with bulging eyes, sharp, eighteen inch long beaver-like teeth, and hands, rather than paws, though they still ended in elongated, sharpened claws. It pulled itself up alongside a three-story apartment building, eyes scanning the horizon, like a stop-motion kaiju from early cinema.

With a gesture, Fantisma ignited her own flames around her hands in order to draw it’s attention. She was hesitant to use her wytchfire without intent to kill, and at least some of the hat's past conjurings had been materially real, not mere figments. She was more hesitant however to allow this … whatever it was to harm the mutants that lived in this part of the Hollows. The glowing green wytchfire didn't attract the creature's focus though, and it turned away from her.

"Hey, handsome," Fantisma shouted; with a gesture, she yanked up a half-dozen concrete blocks, using her telekinesis to draw them up towards her. She heard a shriek, and the creature's head swiveled as it huffed.

Whelp. That worked.

One after the other, the cinder blocks shot out for the creature's head. They exploded into dust upon impact, and by the third, the creature's head was swiveling to locate a source. Fantisma spread her arms, rising slightly as the creature stared. "Right here," she said. The creature's eyes narrowed, its mouth opened, and it honked; a 'ki-whee' cry filled with viscous spittle spilling forth.

"Well, fuck you too, then," Fantisma responded.

The creature climbed the building between them with ease, its neck curling back, like a snake getting ready to strike. She gestured again. A steel fire escape tore free, wrapping around the creature's forelimb, as she rapidly dove between buildings.

Mortal weapons couldn't harm her — a category that over her career had covered knives, handguns, and even a particle cannon that one time. But the claws and fangs of some kaiju hadn’t always counted as 'mortal weapons'. Nor some thrown objects. Or collapsing buildings.

It was fickle, was the point, and she didn't intend to give this bucktooth snake-locust hybrid a chance to find out.

Fantisma heard the whine of metal as the creature pulled its limb free. She twisted mid-flight to look up as the creature glowered down at her. Flying away, across the ground and down an alley, she gestured again. A dumpster launched up at the creature. It batted it away with disconcerting alacrity, climbing down into the alley. The combination of insectile and reptilian appearance and movement was unsettling, to say the least.

Her eyes lit fire-red and she gritted her teeth as it closed in. The hesitation over her wytchfire was wearing thin. She gestured … and felt the temperature in the alley plummet.

The creature recoiled from a blast of bitterly cold air, as Frostfire stepped around her into the alleyway. "About time," Fantisma spat.

"Traffic," Frostfire replied, her mouth a tight line. She followed up the arctic blast with a gout of flame. The creature hissed and recoiled, pulling back before scampering up and out of the alley.

Fantisma flew over to stand beside Frostfire. "Okay, so — my hurled objects barely slowed it down; your elemental blasts …"

"Didn't seem to like them much," Frostfire nodded.

"Ringleader's got to be around here somewhere. You keep the snake-grasshopper-thing busy. I'll find him and figure out where it came from," Fantisma said, lifting into the air.

"You figure Ringleader conjured … this?" Frostfire called up to her, uncertainly.

"I mean," Fantisma shrugged. "Maybe not intentionally. The hat channels chaos. Did that thing look like chaos to you?"

Frostfire grimaced but nodded before heading out of the alley, picking up speed upon hearing the creature's hiss echo out.

Fantisma gained altitude to get a look from above. The creature pursued three of the Outsiders down a street, its tail slapping a car and rolling it into one of the buildings lining the avenue. She held her breath, reminding herself that the creature wasn't her focus.

A shadow of movement caught her eye. She turned her head to see Ringleader, peering over a rooftop ledge to watch the madness the creature wrought. He took a step back as a gout of flame from Frostfire ripped up the creature's back.

Fantisma snorted and shot herself straight at him. Occasionally, removing the hat from his possession — even for a moment — 'un-created' his simulacra. An easy place to start to get this angry grasshopper-iguanadon off the city streets before someone got hurt.

Ringleader wheeled around as she approached. "Why, Fantisma!" he cried. "Step right up! I have something special for you … right … here!" he announced, gesturing with his hat, with something golden and glittering held in the same hand. She pulled up short and braced herself as he cackled with sinister glee—

A child suddenly fell onto the roof between them.

"… what?" Ringleader incredulously demanded as he stared at the child.

"Sorry, was that … ?" She responded.

Ringleader snapped into action. He seized the boy by the back of the neck, hauling him up alongside himself.

"Child hostages. Stay classy," Fantisma snarled, letting her eyes blaze red. She gave an exaggerated gesture, and a few loose bricks yanked free, to sail silently into her orbit.

"Ka-loo ka-lay⁵!" the boy cheered in an English accent. "Are you a witch?!"

"What hostage?" Ringleader sneered, shaking the boy. "This is bait."

Behind her, Fantisma heard a 'ki-whee.' She turned her head.

"Oh, that's where it went," the boy proclaimed.

With a grunt, Ringleader hurled the boy off the back of the roof exclaiming, "That'll do!" He then raced to the far side of the roof.

Fantisma threw herself into motion to catch the child. She could catch up to Ringleader — or deal with his nightmare beast — later. She gestured as she cleared the roof edge. A red-and-white striped awning tore away from the building and smoothly caught the boy before he impacted with the pavement. It hovered in place as Fantisma descended.

"I've got you," she said, nodding down to the boy.

"'ppreciate that, but — what about the jabberwock?" he asked.

"The-", Fantisma started as the building gave way behind her and the creature plowed through, obliterating concrete and casually twisting steel beams. She sighed. "… let me guess, that's the jabberwock?"

The creature snarled, a variation on the 'ki-whee' sound, and swept towards her with its massive, eerily hand-like forepaw. Fantisma rolled mid-air, moving the boy out of the way with a swipe. The paw’s glancing blow knocked her across the street, and she barely caught herself before impacting the brick facade.

She dropped, dodging a snake-like strike as the jabberwock's mouth snapped shut on open air. The loud clack of tooth against tooth ringing in her ear. Fantisma dipped between it's forelegs — arms? — and zipped down the street, gesturing to pull the awning back to her side — only to find it unoccupied.

"Little shit," she cursed. She tossed the awning at the jabberwock's face as it slithered towards her. It snorted at the impact and jerked its head back and forth to shrug it off before turning away.

A thought suddenly struck her: It was looking for the kid, too.

Fantisma and the jabberwock spotted the boy at the same time, his head peeking out of a dumpster and watching the creature; which was, unfortunately, between them. The jabberwock's elongated neck curled back and it hissed, turning toward the dumpster and tensing for another snake-like bite. She made a gathering and yanking motion and the dumpster sailed along the street towards her — and the jabberwock.

"Hey!" Fantisma shouted.

With a second gesture, a trio of wytchfire blasts tore out towards the jabberwock's back. As they hit, it twisted and shrieked. A new, different, and equally terrible sound. It whipped its head around to face Fantisma. She kicked backward, trying to add distance as it took a step towards her, and faintly hoped its teeth counted as mortal weapons.

Then there was an unusual hum at the base of her ears, and a tingling along her skin. High magic was being used. Her eyes darted around. There was no ritual circle. No staff or wand. Someone was evoking the great art through either sheer talent or sheer will.

With a roar, a gout of flame tore around the jabberwock, ripping out of the dumpster as it passed by the creature. As the cone of fire engulfed the jabberwock, it yelped like a kicked dog — yet also like an angered lizard — as the flames raced across its scales. The head jerked back and it leapt, kicking out with its hind leg and slamming the dumpster, as it fled. The dumpster skittered away, slamming into one of the nearby buildings. Fantisma soared towards it as quickly as she could.

"Kid!" she called. "Kid, tell me you-"

A small head popped back up over the dumpster's lip. "That was tops! You're flying?!"

His vibrant green eyes shined as Fantisma pulled herself to a stop alongside the dumpster. "Where are we? It's much too short to be Tulgey City," he said and looked around. Outsiders and other mutants were starting to gather in the streets, examining the damage, as well as the black-and-white clad superhero and their well-dressed guest. The kid swiveled his head, eyes rapidly taking it all in, but didn't seem disoriented by their unusual appearance.

"Okay, uh -", Fantisma started, offering him a hand. He reached out and took it.

"Duckworth," he said, with a nod.

Fantisma rolled her eyes. "Duckworth. Sure,” she scoffed at that clear alias. "You've been transported. Magically. You're in Halcyon City. Do you know where you came from?"

"Well of course magic, seein' as it was a kind of rabbit hole but-", Duckworth said and then paused, eyes wide. "So you do have magic here?"

"Hey, hey, we can discuss that, but I need you out of the dumpster, first," Fantisma sighed. Frostfire emerged from an alley, and Fantisma heard the creature hiss from somewhere distant.

"Ringleader?" she inquired, heading towards where Fantisma was helping 'Duckworth' to the ground.

"No, this is Duckworth," Fantisma answered. Frostfire grimaced. "Ringleader tried to feed him to that monster, then cheesed it. It kicked the dumpster into the wall, and Duckworth hit his head. I'm going to take him to Baxter to get checked out."

Frostfire narrowed her eyes, but instinct told Fantisma that revealing Duckworth's abrupt arrival may not break in the kid's favour. To his credit, Duckworth immediately played along, rubbing at his head and wincing.

"Yeah, the jabberwock has me all mome ⁶ after sendin' me in a gyre ⁷ and givin’ me lumps for the trouble as well."

Fantisma's eyes widened, and she rubbed a soothing hand on Duckworth's back. She looked at Frostfire and indicated at him with her head.

Frostfire nodded. "Right. And the monster?"

"Jabberwock," Fantisma corrected. "It reacted to my wytchfire; it didn't like your cold blasts. I think you and the Outsiders are probably better equipped to handle it than most. Don't get bitten."

"Why? Is it venomous?" Frostfire asked, eyebrow raised.

Fantisma shrugged. "I mean, maybe. I just figured, thirty feet long was bad enough. Here, Ducky," she paused and gestured, pulling the awning back towards her. "Get in, and I can fly you with me."

Duckworth beamed and to Fantisma's surprise, instead of lying on the awning, he climbed on, legs to either side like riding a horse. She nodded and glanced back to Frostfire. "We good?"

"If I find Ringleader -"

"If any of your people catch a glimpse of him, give me a call," Fantisma nodded as she began to float up, using her telekinesis to bring Duckworth and his ‘steed’ with her. "And see if you can't find that dragon. Probably give me a call if you find that, too."

🔵

They’d appeared suddenly, stumbling into each other and then a brick wall.

"Alice!” Viktor cried and embraced his wife, “Are you alright?”

She nodded and took a steadying breath. “Yes, but where’s… where did everyone go? And- where have we ended up now?”

Viktor frowned and looked around. “I’m not sure, but we should probably try and look for them.”

They wandered down an uneven cobblestone street that cut directly through the heart of a peculiar town square. The gabled roofs and cedar clapboard siding gave the buildings a distinctly dated feel, but the glaring shopfront lighting and notable (though welcome) lack of horse manure made the town feel decidedly off. The "gas" lamps that lined the boulevard also flickered not at all like flames and cast pulsating shadows on the streets beneath them. A hanging plaque — barely visible in the waning dusk light — read "Croatoa" in flaking painted letters.

"I could see Madeline being drawn to this part of the city," Alice remarked with suppressed concern. "It's well-lit, and the cobblestones underfoot would feel welcoming to her."

"We've got no choice but to begin our search here," Viktor said. He took hold of his wife's hand. "Until we get some sort of a lead, we're groping blindly in the dark."

"How friendly do you suppose the locals are?" she wondered aloud. Viktor scanned the streets and his eyes landed on a group of young women standing on the stoop of a dilapidated brick building.

"Those women," he remarked under his breath. "They're all wearing…"

"Hats," Alice finished. Each one was sporting an oversized, stereotypical witch's hat that wouldn't look out of place in a costume store.

"Suppose that makes them witches, then," Viktor surmised.

"Bit on the nose, isn't it?"

He sighed. "Well, there's bound to be some relation. Maybe we can use our connections with witches to garner their favor."

"It's worth a try," she conceded. "For Madeline?"

"For Madeline."

They approached the boisterous group of women. In addition to their hats, they were each dressed in some combination of black leather, corsets, fishnet stockings, torn lace, and shiny rubber boots.

"Good evening, ladies," Viktor ventured, placing himself in front of his wife. "Might we inquire as to whether you've seen—"

One of the women whipped her head around, locked eyes with his, and hissed. Viktor yelped and jumped backwards to a wave of cackles and hoots.

"The fuck is this?" a tall, corseted girl barked in their direction. "What are you, some kind of magician or something? This isn't a kid's party."

"Tea time's over! Cheerio!" another mocked and clapped in his face.

Alice stepped around her husband. "We're looking for someone very important. A twelve-year-old girl, black wavy hair, about this tall." She raised her hand to chest height.

"That tall, hmm?" said the girl furthest in the back. She leered at Alice, her eyes quickly leaping from face to floor and back again. Her black lipsticked smile curled at the edges. "Alright, I'll listen to the goth MILF. She's got drip."

"Morticia fucking ate," the taller girl said, earning peals of dark laughter from her from her comrades. "Literally."

"Nah-ah, she's mother," the lipsticked girl insisted. She studied Alice while taking a deep pull from a tube on a rectangular metal box, releasing clouds of cinnamon-scented smoke.

"Yes, I am a mother, how very insightful of you," Alice attempted to smooth over.

“We're just trying to find our daughter,” Viktor snapped, “and if you wouldn't mind—"

"Hey, can I give you some advice?" the lipsticked girl snarled at Alice. "When you talk to The Cabal, you keep your simp on a leash."

"Like this." A third girl with closely trimmed hair held up the end of a chain in her hand. She moved to the side to reveal a thin, shirtless boy standing behind her. He seemed to be in no real distress, despite the collar around his neck and his apparent inability to speak.

"Ah, lovely, so they're doing that out in the open these days," Viktor muttered under his breath as he shook his head. "The witches we know would never be this unhelpful, even to humans! Especially when there is a child in danger!"

"I told you, you scrawny little sadboi motherfucker, we don't know whatever hags you're talking about." The five girls pivoted to face them with a menacing aura. "I don't care whose daddy you are, come at me again with this 'main character' bullshit and I'm going to put you in the fucking ground."

Alice boldly stepped into the center of the circle and locked eyes with the lipsticked woman. "There's no need to be discourteous."

The woman stepped closer. "Do you know who I am? Bitch, I'm the High Priestess of The Cabal. We own Sunset Ridge, and this is our territory."

Alice smiled placidly. "The witch I reformed would've had you on your knees in an instant."

The short-haired girl dropped her chain, and the collared boy scampered off into the night.

A swirling wind began to gather at the witches' feet. Lights popped and bubbled at their fingertips, and the atmosphere hissed with electric energy. Viktor grasped Alice's shoulders, pulling her back into the street and away from the group as they began to levitate, snarling and conjuring what appeared to be some sort of makeshift, self-contained hurricane, trapping the couple in a dome of wind and lightning.

"I'm sorry!" Alice screamed to her husband above the gale.

"It was worth a try!" he yelled back. "Now let's just focus on escaping alive!"

With the wind roaring against their ears, Viktor and Alice almost missed an even louder command bellowing from behind them.

"Enough, you miserable miscreants! I've had it up to here with you wretched slatterns and your second-rate parlor tricks!"

An equally powerful force shoved the entire group from behind, and a wave of crackling purple light washed over them. With a teeth-chattering boom it knocked the witches from their feet and interrupted their magic.

Viktor and Alice shook themselves, seemingly in shock, and Alice's hand darted to his arm to check for movement.

"May I suggest you harlots spend your time pursuing a productive hobby rather than pestering magic-less tourists with your feeble posturing?" Their savior revealed herself: a strikingly beautiful, fair-skinned young woman wearing a floor-length purple gown. Her black locks floated eerily behind her as she strode confidently towards The Cabal, eyes still shimmering with purple energy.

The Cabal leader attempted to sit up without hacking up a lung. "Oh look who it is—little miss American Girl doll, sticking her nose into our business again."

"Charming, as always," the woman quipped back. Her face softened as she bent to help Alice and Viktor to their feet. "I apologize, this is not how I'd prefer visitors to experience Croatoa for the first time. My name is Evangeline, and I'd be remiss if I didn't accompany you to a safer location."

Viktor brushed himself off. "We're beyond grateful, really. If you couldn't tell, we were a bit out of our depths there."

Evangeline glanced between them with a furrowed brow. "Where are you both from, if I may ask?"

"We…" Alice glanced at her husband and he shrugged. "We're not quite sure how to explain it, but we're not from this place or time."

Evangeline's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Hmm. Well. I should bring you back to my estate. Once I can ensure your safety, we can discuss the particularities."

"Your estate?" Viktor repeated curiously.

Evangeline blushed. "Not mine, exactly. Rather, a relative of mine. But all will be explained in due time." She gallantly offered her arm to Alice who slipped her hand in the crook of her elbow. "I adore your dress, by the way. The pintuck is beautiful."

"Thank you," Alice beamed. Together, they followed Evangeline back down the street.

The voice of The Cabal leader echoed after them. "Dumb virgin slut! We won't forget this!"

Evangeline tossed her hair over her shoulder but didn't dignify them with a response.

"Yes, well… your hats look stupid!" Viktor hollered back. His wife snickered discreetly at his side.

🔴

There wasn't a distinct noise but there was a sensation — a vague feeling of falling, but maybe sort of up, and a flood of color. Though he'd be at a loss to say what color it was. It felt both like, and unlike travel through the Looking Glass.

Then he was violently flung sideways.

He stumbled a bit, but mostly, kept feet on the street.

Hatter glanced around. Immediately, not Tulgey City. The buildings were too small, though they were run-down, damaged, and borderline dilapidated like no-go zones in Tulgey. People about; curious folk, with orange skin; cat ears; snakes for hair.

Not New York either, then.

He gave a more thorough look. Alice and the others weren't about. He nodded contemplatively, and hummed. Harry would be here, somewhere. Should probably look for smoke.

There was — not a noise, but a feeling and Hatter took half a step backwards. He extended his arm as Alice stumbled out of nothing, and he caught her by the elbow. Elated and relieved, he turned her into him and planted a kiss.

Alice pulled free from his lips disappointingly quickly.

"Hatter! Where are we?" Alice exclaimed. She held onto him and looked around.

"Dunno," Hatter shrugged.

"Where's Harry?"

His sighed, and he shook his head. "Dunno."

Alice searched his face. "And the others?"

He shrugged again. "… dunno."

"Okay… who are they?" She nodded over his shoulder.

Hatter turned. Some folks — led by an orange-skinned woman — had turned their attention to them and were closing in with firm looks on their faces.

"Oh!" Hatter falsely rallied and smiled. "Dunno!"