The Vulpes stood before the grand double doors, their ornate engravings seemingly alive, shifting and curling like tendrils of an ancient, malevolent tree. Beyond them lay the heart of the madness, the source of the illusionary chaos that had consumed Macentyre Systems. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Her mind raced as she pieced together what she knew.
This wasn’t Doctor Alice Little speaking over the PA system. Not strictly, anyway. Coraline—no, the Vulpes—reminded herself that she was one of the few people Alice had ever trusted with her deepest secret: her DID. Coraline had met Alice after years of therapy, during which Alice had worked to find peace with her alter. Wonderland, the mischievous and protective part of Alice’s traumatised psyche, had receded into the background, a dormant guardian Alice had hoped she’d never need again.
But she strongly suspected Micheal Macentyre had caused Wonderland to resurface and take control, this time, she wasn’t content with being a quiet protector so much as an avenger.
Vulpes tapped the side of her mask, resetting her filters as she reviewed the scene once more. The illusions were growing denser, almost suffocating, the closer she came to the source. She had no doubt Wonderland knew she was here. Wonderland had been taunting her through the PA system at every turn, daring her to play along in the twisted game she had created to slow her down so she had more time to torture or end Micheal.
Coraline didn’t fully grasp the full extent of what Alice—or Wonderland—was capable of, but she understood one undeniable truth: Alice Little was a genius. A true polymath whose groundbreaking inventions had the potential to reshape the world. Now, that same intellect was being wielded by Wonderland, the more aggressive alter ego that had turned her brilliance into a tool for vengeance. Wonderland with full access to Alice’s ingenuity wasn’t just dangerous; she was as formidable as any criminal superbeing Vulpes had ever faced.
And then there was the technology itself, the Psy-Tech—a problem entirely its own. Psy-Tech was barely understood by anyone except Doctor Alice Little, who had been able to advance it more in a few years than super science had in nearly five decades. What Vulpes knew was enough to make her uneasy: Psy-Tech could amplify and interact with the psychic potential inherent in human beings, whether that potential was dormant, atrophied, or active. It bridged the gap between the mind and machinery, turning thought into action and potential into power.
Psionics themselves weren’t new. Since the Second World War, governments and scientists had worked tirelessly to document, study, and understand psionic abilities, knowing full well the strategic and ethical implications of such powers. Vulpes had a basic working knowledge of the possibilities—she knew the categories, the disciplines, and the abilities that psionically gifted individuals could manifest.
But Alice? Alice was supposed to be a Delta Four—a low-level psionic with latent potential that had never developed into anything significant. Yet, if Psy-Tech could amplify that latent ability, then Alice—or Wonderland—might be capable of nearly anything. Unlike natural psions, who were often confined to a few specialized disciplines, the variability of Alice’s technology meant she could manifest nearly any psionic ability with the right devices.
Mind reading. Aura sight. Psychokinesis. Danger sense. Memory alteration. The list of potential threats was staggering. And if Wonderland was wielding Alice’s creations as tools of her vengeance, then Vulpes was heading straight into a battlefield with an unpredictable and possibly omnipotent foe.
The Vulpes paused, standing just outside the grand doors that marked the heart of Wonderland’s twisted domain. She took a deep, deliberate breath, forcing the adrenaline-fueled pounding of her heart to slow. If Wonderland had access to telepathic, empathic, or other sensory psionic powers—and Vulpes was certain she did—then stepping into that room without mental preparation would be like walking unarmed into a warzone.
She closed her eyes, grounding herself in the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her training, both practical and esoteric, came into focus. This wasn’t just about her physical skill or her tools; it was about mastering her own mind. Calmness was her shield, clarity her weapon. If Wonderland was employing psionically sensitive devices or using Psy-Tech to manipulate perception, fear, or emotions, then Vulpes needed to ensure her mental state was as unshakable as her resolve.
She reached for an old technique she had learned during her formative years from her Grandfather, one she had rarely needed but always remembered: a visualization exercise designed to create mental barriers. In her mind’s eye, she imagined a fortress—a high-walled sanctuary with unbreakable gates and turrets that watched for any intrusions. The fortress was hers alone, impervious to any influence from the outside world.
I am grounded. I am present. I am in control, she thought, repeating the mantra silently as she steadied herself.
Her breathing evened out, her pulse slowed, and her senses sharpened. Whatever lay beyond these doors, she wouldn’t face it with fear clouding her judgment. She opened her eyes, her calm, calculating demeanor firmly in place.
With one final breath, she stepped forward, ready to face whatever madness Wonderland had in store.
Vulpes gritted her teeth as she moved forward through the surreal labyrinth. She hated going in blind, hated the uncertainty that made her instincts scream for more information. But there was no turning back now. Whatever was waiting behind those grand, illusion-cloaked doors, she had to face it. For Alice’s sake. For everyone trapped in this nightmare.
The inner sanctum was unlike anything Vulpes had ever encountered before. The oppressive darkness and silence felt alive, an ominous prelude to whatever nightmare Wonderland had orchestrated. It reminded her of the hushed anticipation of a theater before the curtains rose—eerie, heavy, and filled with unseen menace.
As if cued by her thoughts, the sound of curtains drawing apart filled the space, followed by an orchestral fanfare that seemed to echo from every corner. A spotlight flickered on, illuminating Michael Macentyre. He was bound to a chair, writhing against the shimmering coils of snakes that slithered and tightened around his limbs. His face was ashen, his body trembling uncontrollably, and his breath came in shallow gasps.
He thinks he’s been bitten, Vulpes realized, her sharp mind dissecting the scene. His body is reacting as if the venom is real. Wonderland’s manipulation of the psyche was terrifying in its precision. Even though a dark part of her felt that Michael deserved this torment for what he had done to Alice, she knew she couldn’t let that feeling take root. Justice, true justice, didn’t allow for personal vendettas or indulgence in vengeance.
"Welcome to my stage, little fox!" Wonderland’s whimsical voice rang out, rich with glee and menace, echoing from unseen speakers. “Ooh, your mind is stronger than his! Not even a stray surface thought—how delightfully vexing! That will make this much more sporting!”
A ripple of energy swept through the room, subtle but charged, and Vulpes felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Wonderland was studying her, testing her, probing for any weakness to exploit.
“However,” Wonderland continued, her tone shifting to a curious, almost childlike lilt, “I must ask—why? Why would a vigilante like you want to stop me? I’m not hurting the innocent. I’m making him pay for his evils upon my sweet Alice! For his underhanded acts of betrayal and thievery! You and I, little fox, we’re both agents of justice in an unjust world where scum like him thrives. Why would you oppose me?”
Vulpes didn’t answer immediately. She stepped into the spotlight’s edge, taking in the surreal scene, her sharp mind processing Wonderland’s words and the situation before her. She needed to tread carefully. Wonderland wasn’t just intelligent; she was driven by a singular purpose, warped by pain and an unwavering belief in her righteousness. A direct confrontation wouldn’t work—she had to outthink her.
“Justice doesn’t come from revenge,” Vulpes said finally, her voice steady and calm. “What you’re doing to him—it’s not justice, and revenge doesn’t heal wounds, Wonderland. It just leaves deeper scars.”
Wonderland let out a sharp, tinkling laugh, but there was something darker beneath it. “Scars? Oh, little fox, my Alice’s heart is already scarred. I’m just making sure this blackguard’s betrayal doesn’t go unanswered. Someone has to hold him accountable.”
“And someone will,” Vulpes countered, taking a measured step closer. “But not like this. Not through terror and torment. Alice is better than this, and so are you.”
The room seemed to hold its breath, the oppressive silence returning as Wonderland considered Vulpes’ words. The snakes coiled tighter around Michael for a moment, drawing a sharp cry from him, before they slackened again. Wonderland’s voice returned, quieter now, tinged with curiosity and perhaps a hint of doubt.
“Better? How am I better, little fox, when this world is so full of ugliness?”
Vulpes stood her ground, her voice firm but compassionate. “Because you’re not just reacting. You’re Alice’s protector, aren’t you? Protecting her means more than avenging her pain—it means keeping her from becoming like him. Justice isn’t about power over others. It’s about doing what’s right, even when it’s hard.”
The spotlight flickered, the edges of the illusion rippling faintly. Wonderland’s silence was deafening, and Vulpes braced herself. She didn’t know if her words had reached Wonderland—or if they had simply given her a new angle to attack.
What Vulpes did know, with chilling certainty, was that Wonderland hadn’t been lying about the clock. If she didn’t shut this down soon, Michael’s body would give out under the strain of believing he’d been envenomed by a cocktail of the world’s deadliest snakes. His heart could fail, his lungs collapse, or his brain simply shut down from the overwhelming assault. Wonderland’s twisted game was playing with more than just his mind—it was gambling with his life.
A tinkling giggle echoed through the room, light and whimsical but layered with malice. The spotlight shifted, illuminating Wonderland herself. She stood poised, her small frame cloaked in the eerie glow of the surreal scene. “Oh, little fox,” she cooed, her tone teasing, “I had no clue you were such an idealist. Just like my Alice.”
She took a step forward, the edges of her blue and white dress glinting with the circuitry woven into its fabric. “But you,” Wonderland continued, her voice dropping to a softer, almost admiring lilt, “you balance it with courage. Courage she doesn’t have. My Alice... she was always too scared to act, too afraid to say what she felt or wanted, because it might risk people alienating her even more.”
In her hands, Wonderland twirled a massive metal mallet, its surface adorned with strange buttons and glowing panels. It looked impossibly heavy, the kind of weapon that would take a strongman to even lift. Yet, she swung it about effortlessly, like a child playing with a toy baton, the motion as fluid and natural as if it were weightless. The faint hum of power emanating from the mallet added to its menacing allure.
Vulpes shifted her stance, readying herself, her sharp eyes fixed on Wonderland’s every movement. “Courage isn’t about swinging a hammer or playing God with someone’s life,” she said, her tone low and steady. “It’s about facing your fear and rising above it. That’s what makes Alice stronger than you think.”
Wonderland’s smile sharpened, her blue eyes glowing with a mix of amusement and fury. “Stronger?” she echoed, her tone mocking. “No, no, little fox. My Alice is sweet and kind and fragile—so fragile. That’s why she needed me. She needed someone who could do what she couldn’t. Someone who could protect her, fight for her, avenge her, make the world the wonderland her heart longed for!.”
With a sudden, sharp crack, Wonderland slammed the mallet onto the ground, sending a ripple of energy surging through the room. The illusionary snakes writhed and hissed in response, and Michael let out a strangled gasp, his terror renewed. Wonderland’s gaze bore into Vulpes, daring her to make a move.
“And now,” Wonderland said, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “she needs me more than ever. But don’t worry, little fox. I’ll give you your chance to play hero. After all...” She raised the mallet, pointing it toward Vulpes, the strange glow intensifying. “Every story needs a dramatic showdown, doesn’t it?”
Vulpes’ mind raced, piecing together everything Wonderland had said and done. This wasn’t just an alter created by Alice’s psyche to protect her; this was a manifestation of Alice’s deepest loves and desires—the whimsy of fantasy, the clear-cut morals of fairy tales, a world where knights saved damsels and villains paid for their sins in neat, poetic justice. But this wasn’t that kind of world, and Wonderland’s indulgence in black-and-white thinking was putting lives at risk.
Vulpes also recognized Wonderland’s stalling tactics. She wasn’t just engaging in theatrics; she was savoring Michael’s suffering, drawing it out like a cat playing with a trapped mouse. Time was not on Vulpes’ side, and she had to act before Wonderland’s twisted performance reached its final curtain.
“Wonderland,” Vulpes said, her voice calm but firm as she took a cautious step forward. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
Wonderland tilted her head, her expression flickering between amusement and curiosity. “Oh, you’re clever, little fox. Yes, that’s my name.” She spun the mallet lazily in her hands, the metal humming faintly. “And what a fitting name it is, don’t you think? A place of whimsy, wonder, and rules that don’t always make sense. A world where justice can be whatever I want it to be.”
Vulpes nodded slowly, keeping her movements measured as she took another step closer. “I can see that. You’ve made something incredible here. It’s... beautiful, in its own way.”
Wonderland’s grin widened, her eyes gleaming with pride. “Why, thank you! I knew you had an eye for artistry. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for someone to appreciate my work?”
Vulpes gestured lightly to the surreal surroundings. “I do appreciate it. But there’s something I don’t understand. If this is all about justice—about protecting Alice—why does it have to end with someone dying?”
Wonderland’s smile faltered for a moment, the mallet pausing mid-spin. “Dying? Oh no, little fox, you misunderstand. He’s not dying; he’s learning. Learning what it feels like to suffer, to be powerless, to—”
“To feel what Alice felt when he betrayed her?” Vulpes interjected, her voice soft but pointed. “But Alice didn’t want this, did she? Not really. She wanted to be strong, to protect herself, to move on. This isn’t about Alice, Wonderland. This is about you.”
For a fleeting second, Wonderland’s expression flickered, something uncertain crossing her face before it was replaced by a sharp, defensive grin. “Oh, you’re good. Trying to turn my own narrative against me. But you’re wrong, little fox. This is about us. Me and my Alice and this blackguard who broke her heart!”
Vulpes took another step forward, her voice steady and even. “Are you so certain? Because the Alice I know—the real Alice—would never want this. She’d fight to protect others, not hurt them. She’d want justice, not vengeance.”
Wonderland’s grip on the mallet tightened, and for the first time, her confidence wavered. “You don’t know anything about my Alice,” she hissed, her voice trembling slightly. “You don’t know what she’s been through.”
“You’re right,” Vulpes admitted, her tone softening. “I don’t know everything. But I know Alice trusted me to do what’s right. To stop this before it goes too far.”
The room seemed to pulse with energy, the air growing heavy with tension as Wonderland and Vulpes locked eyes. “Far?” Wonderland echoed, her voice dripping with mockery. “We’ve barely begun, little fox. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to earn it.”
With that, Wonderland raised her mallet high, the glow intensifying as the world around them began to twist and shift once more, reality itself bending to her will.
Wonderland let out a long, trilling laugh and lunged at Vulpes, her mallet descending like a meteor. Though it seemed impossibly light in her hands, Vulpes could sense the crushing weight behind it, almost like the air itself was recoiling from its force. She threw herself hard to the side, rolling away just as the hammer slammed into the floor where she had stood moments before.
The impact cracked the illusion, the vibrant, surreal imagery flickering to reveal glimpses of the cold, sterile lab beneath it. Vulpes’ sharp eyes darted around, taking in as much of the real environment as she could before the illusion reasserted itself. Every detail mattered now—knowing the true layout of the space could mean the difference between survival and disaster.
“Nice dodge, little fox,” Wonderland sang, her grin widening as she swung the mallet over her shoulder. “But one little tap from this mallet, and you’ll be a head shorter!”
Vulpes didn’t respond, her focus locked on Wonderland’s every movement. The mallet wasn’t just a weapon; it was an extension of Wonderland’s power. The way it shifted the environment around it, warping the very air with each swing, made it clear this wasn’t a typical fight. Wonderland was using her tech-enhanced psionics to turn the mallet into a conduit for some kind of gravity manipulation or telekinetic augmentation giving it very real and terrible crushing power.
“You’ve got all this power,” Vulpes said, her voice calm but measured as she moved to keep a safe distance, “and all you can think to do with it is swing a hammer? You’re supposed to be smarter than this, Wonderland.”
Wonderland’s eyes narrowed, her playful tone taking on a sharp edge. “Oh, little fox, you mistake simplicity for stupidity. A hammer is the perfect tool for a world that needs smashing. And you? You’re just a little croquet ball waiting to be knocked into place.”
She lunged again, the mallet arcing through the air with a speed that belied its size. Vulpes ducked and rolled, the mallet missing her by inches and smashing into a nearby table, which exploded into splinters before vanishing into the illusion.
“Smashing things won’t fix what’s broken,” Vulpes said, straightening as she put more distance between them.
Wonderland tilted her head, her grin faltering for a split second before returning, sharper than ever. “Fixing things is for Alice. I’m here to destroy what hurt her.”
Vulpes steeled herself. She could see the cracks forming, but she needed to push harder—and survive long enough to do it. This wasn’t just a fight for Michael’s life. It was a fight to bring Alice back.
Vulpes forced herself to breathe deeply, keeping her focus sharp even as her heart ached with every passing moment. Fighting Wonderland felt like fighting a nightmare, but worse—it was fighting a part of her friend, someone she had laughed with, studied alongside, and supported through thick and thin. She couldn’t let Wonderland see her hesitation, couldn’t let her vulnerability become a weapon for the alter to exploit.
Alice had been one of her first real friends in college, and Coraline could still remember the sight of her at that party, shy and isolated, clutching a drink and trying to disappear into the wallpaper. Coraline had seen something in Alice that night, something fragile and beautiful, and she had decided right then and there to be the kind of friend Alice needed. Over the years, their friendship had deepened, and Coraline had grown fiercely protective of her.
And now, here she was, trying to outwit and survive a side of Alice that embodied everything she feared most about herself—a side that had been pushed too far by the cruelty of the world.
Coraline gritted her teeth as Wonderland spun her mallet playfully, the kinetic energy flickering around her like a shimmering aura. Every movement she made distorted the air, a visible ripple of force that screamed invulnerability. The shattered table had been deflected effortlessly by the field, the fragments scattering harmlessly away as if they had struck a steel wall.
That field is going to be a problem, Vulpes thought grimly. Her arsenal, reliant on kinetic weapons and physical strikes, would barely scratch Wonderland. Every punch, every kick—it would be like throwing pebbles at a tank. Coraline’s mind raced, analyzing every detail she had gathered. If brute force wasn’t an option, she needed to outthink Wonderland.
Wonderland tilted her head, her grin stretching wider as if sensing Vulpes’ hesitation. “What’s the matter, little fox? Finally realizing you’re outmatched? Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make it quick. Well... relatively.”
Vulpes ignored the taunt, her eyes darting around the room, looking for something—anything—that could give her an edge. Her fingers brushed against her belt, instinctively checking her gear. She had tools, gadgets, and skills, but none of them would matter if she couldn’t find a way to bypass that shield.
“Do you remember why Alice made me?” Wonderland asked, her tone almost conversational as she prowled closer, her mallet swinging idly. “It was because people like him”—she gestured toward Michael—“made her feel small, powerless. She needed me to fight back, to protect her from the monsters. And now here you are, trying to protect him. What does that make you, little fox?”
Vulpes noticed the illusion falter again. One of the buttons on Alice’s mallet was just outside her telekinetic aura, and it bore a small scuff, likely from a fragment of splintered wood. The realization clicked into place: the mallet wasn’t just a weapon—it was a control rod. And if part of it was outside the protection of Wonderland’s kinetic armor, it was a potential weakness.
Her gaze shifted to the bank of monitors behind Wonderland, partially concealed by the illusionary scenery. Something she has spoted on those screens might help her get through to Alice—or to Wonderland. Drawing a deep breath, Vulpes steeled her voice.
"You call me a monster? What about you?" she said firmly, her voice echoing in the strange, shifting room. "Do you think the people you’ve trapped here are enjoying this? Do you think they’re skipping merrily through this chaos you’ve created? What about the security guards you’ve terrorized? The early morning workers caught in your fantasy? What about Dorothy Gable?"
Wonderland froze, her eyes widening in genuine shock. “What are you talking about, little fox? My dear Princess Ozma, she isn’t here! I would never hurt Ozma! She makes Alice smile, she makes her happy. I couldn’t... I wouldn’t!” Her voice cracked, a flicker of doubt piercing her confident facade.
Vulpes moved quickly reaching for her utility belt, her wrist snapping out as she flicked a dart that struck the same button that had revealed the monitors to her in that flash of reality and made a sharp gesture toward them. “Then look for yourself. Look at your handiwork, Wonderland. Stop focusing on making Michael suffer for one second and see what you’ve done to the people Alice cares about.”
Wonderland’s mallet wavered in her hand as she turned slowly toward the wall of monitors. The illusions around the room flickered again. The screens displayed scenes of chaos: security guards battling their own minds, early morning workers huddled in terror, and Dorothy Gable trembling in a corner frozen in fear unable to go on, her lips moving as she murmured things to herself trying to cling to her sanity.
Wonderland’s expression cracked, her eyes darting over the screens with increasing panic. “No... no, that’s not right,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean this. I would never hurt Ozma. I’m supposed to protect her, protect everything that makes my Alice happy!”
Vulpes stepped closer, her voice steady but low. “This isn’t protection, Wonderland. This is destruction. You’re hurting the people who Alice cares about. And for what? To punish one man who is less than dirt?”
Wonderland’s hands trembled, her grip on the mallet loosening. For a moment, the whimsical chaos around them grew still, a fragile silence descending as Wonderland’s resolve wavered.
For a moment, Wonderland’s entire posture slumped, the bravado draining from her like air escaping a balloon. When she finally spoke, her voice wasn’t the theatrical, larger-than-life tone of Wonderland; it was soft, hesitant, and achingly familiar. It was Alice—the shy, brilliant woman Coraline had come to love as a friend.
“I... hurt Dorothy,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Wonderland... you hurt someone who didn’t deserve any of this.”
The mallet fell from her hands, clattering onto the floor with a metallic thud that seemed to echo through the room. The illusions flickered and wavered, pieces of the vibrant fantasy dissolving into patches of sterile reality. Wonderland stood there, staring blankly at the monitors, her wide blue eyes brimming with tears.
“I never wanted this,” she whispered. “Not for Dorothy, not for the workers, not for anyone. I just... I just wanted him to pay. I wanted him to feel as small and powerless as Alice did... as I did.”
Coraline’s heart ached at the painful honesty in her friend’s voice. She cautiously stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate. “Doctor Little,” she said gently, not calling her Wonderland this time. “You’re not like him. You’re not like Michael. You care about people. You care about Dorothy.”
Alice—Wonderland—turned toward Coraline, her face a mixture of anger, regret, and confusion. “I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I punished him, it would fix everything. Make it all better.”
“It won’t,” Coraline said softly, stepping closer still. “Hurting him doesn’t undo what he did. It doesn’t make you or Alice feel whole again. And it doesn’t make the world a kinder place.” She gestured toward the monitors, where Dorothy’s frightened face still lingered. “What does make it better is fixing this. Undoing the harm before it’s too late.”
Alice—or was it Wonderland—looked back at the screens, her expression conflicted. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, trembling with pent-up emotion. “I don’t know how to stop,” she admitted in a whisper. “I don’t know if I can.”
Coraline reached out cautiously, her voice steady and full of quiet strength. “You can, Alice. I know you can. You’re brilliant. You built this. You can take it apart, you are the and have always been the smartest person in any room you walk into.”
For a long, agonizing moment, the room was silent. Then, with a shaky breath, Wonderland nodded, her shoulders slumping further. “Okay,” she said softly, tears spilling over. “I... I need to fix this.”
Alice reached up and pulled off the telepathic headband and the blue ribbon. Her makeup was streaked with tears, smudged and uneven, a stark contrast to the whimsical and confident persona Wonderland had worn. Each step toward the control console seemed labored, as if every movement required Herculean effort. She sank into the chair before the computer that controlled the entire building, her shoulders hunched, her breaths shallow.
“Save Princess Ozma,” Wonderland’s voice echoed softly in Alice’s mind, tinged with calm but unyielding certainty. “But this isn’t over, Alice. I’m not done yet. You need me.”
Alice paused, her hands hovering over the keyboard, her trembling fingers hesitating. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she replied, “What I need... is help.”
The weight of those words seemed to ground her, giving her the strength to move. Her hands pressed to the keys, and she began typing with deliberate precision. Each keystroke felt like a battle against the chaos she had unleashed, but Alice forced herself onward, her resolve growing stronger with every command she entered.
As the systems began to respond, Project Wonderland’s influence started to recede. Lights returned to their natural brightness, illusions faded, and the building’s security began to reboot, returning control to its rightful administrators.
“I’m sorry,” Alice whispered, her voice cracking as she continued her work. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone... I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Coraline stood nearby, watching with a mixture of relief and concern. She could see the exhaustion and guilt etched into Alice’s features, the toll this ordeal had taken on her. But more than anything, she saw her friend—the brilliant, kind-hearted woman who had just taken the first steps toward making things right.
“You’re doing the right thing, Alice,” Coraline said softly. “You’re stronger than you think.”
Alice didn’t reply. She just kept typing, her focus unwavering as she worked to dismantle the world Wonderland had built, piece by piece.
Vulpes moved cautiously toward Michael, who now slumped on the floor like a discarded ragdoll. His head lolled to one side, his breathing shallow but steady. She knelt beside him, her movements precise and deliberate, and checked his vital signs. Relief flickered across her features as she confirmed he was stable.
She exhaled a quiet breath. It wasn’t for Michael’s sake, not really. If the man had succumbed to the torment Wonderland had inflicted, she doubted she’d lose any sleep over it. He deserved every ounce of the suffering he’d endured—his crimes against Alice, his betrayal, his selfishness. No, the tragedy wouldn’t have been his loss.
It would have been Alice.
If Michael had died, Wonderland’s vengeance would have turned Alice into a killer. That was the weight Vulpes knew her friend couldn’t bear, no matter how justified Wonderland thought it might be. For Alice, that line was one that could never be crossed—not without breaking her completely.
“You’re lucky,” Vulpes muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with disdain as she glanced at Michael’s unconscious form. “Not that you deserve to be.”
She stood, her gaze drifting toward Alice, who was still at the console, her shoulders slumped in visible exhaustion. Vulpes’ focus sharpened. There was still work to do. The mess Wonderland had made wasn’t undone yet, and Alice would need support to navigate the aftermath.
But first, Vulpes took one last glance at Michael, her lip curling in disdain. “If I were less of a human being, you wouldn’t be breathing right now.”
