The Vulpes fidgeted slightly as she worked on hacking into Michael’s laptop. It wasn’t her preferred method of investigation—digging through someone’s private files—but given the circumstances, it felt necessary. She doubted the desktop PC connected to the office network would hold anything incriminating; corporate computers were typically scrubbed clean. But Michael’s personal laptop, the sleek, high-end model he’d carelessly left behind in his office? That might be a different story.
Her gloved fingers danced over her portable hacking device, wires snaking into the laptop’s ports as the small screen displayed streams of code. Michael hadn’t skimped on security. Whoever had set this up clearly knew their stuff, and the advanced encryption was slowing her progress. Still, she wasn’t about to give up.
“Come on, you smug bastard,” she muttered under her breath, tapping a few more keys to bypass another layer of security. “What secrets are you hiding in here?”
The Vulpes glanced around the darkened office, her ears keenly attuned to any noise in the hallway. She had to move quickly. Michael had left for the labs, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t return unexpectedly—or that someone else wouldn’t wander in. Every passing second increased the risk of her getting caught.
The hacking device beeped softly, signaling a minor victory. She’d broken through the first barrier, but more layers awaited. Her irritation grew as she encountered another firewall.
“Paranoid, aren’t we?” she muttered. “Wonder what you’re so scared of someone finding.”
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the laptop unlocked. A notification pinged softly, the interface loading with a sleek, minimalist desktop. Vulpes wasted no time digging into the files, her eyes scanning folders with names like Quarterly Projections, Budget Reviews, and Private Correspondence. She bypassed the mundane-sounding ones and honed in on something labeled Special Projects.
“Bingo,” she whispered, clicking into the folder.
Her heart rate spiked as she opened a document titled Distribution Contacts. The file listed names, dates, and payments—transactions tied to Wonderland prototypes. The names were unfamiliar, but the pattern was clear: someone had been systematically moving Alice’s stolen technology off the books, funneling it into shady deals across borders.
A chill ran down her spine as she saw another file marked Contingencies. She opened it, revealing notes about potential scapegoats, including one chillingly familiar name: Alice Little.
“No,” she hissed, her jaw tightening. “He’s planning to pin this on her.”
Coraline had never liked Michael Macentyre—not from day one. She and Martha knew his type all too well from the circles they moved in. He was the quintessential playboy, spending his father’s money and drifting from one gold digger to the next. By his mid-twenties, he had graduated to a corporate wolf, exploiting charm and deceit to climb higher. Now, it seemed, he had sunk even lower—robbing his own father’s company and betraying the woman he had convinced to love him, all to line his offshore accounts.
The Vulpes hit the key to finalize the transfer of incriminating files to an external drive, her gloved hands moving with practiced precision despite the anger bubbling inside her. This wasn’t just a job anymore. It wasn’t even just about stopping a crime. This was deeply personal, and her mind raced with thoughts of how Alice would handle this betrayal. How could anyone recover from such a devastating blow?
She needed more. Her sharp eyes caught sight of a wastebasket beneath a paper shredder. Kneeling, she sifted through the contents, careful not to disrupt anything that might trigger suspicion later. Most of the papers were shredded beyond recognition—just confetti now—but something crumpled at the bottom caught her attention. She carefully unfolded it, her heart sinking as she scanned the contents.
It was a legal document. On its own, it wasn’t damning, but the name signed at the bottom sent chills down her spine: Bianca Ruso. Michael’s lawyer. A name that connected far too many dots. Bianca was the daughter of a notorious mafia don, and her family had ties to nearly every illegal operation in Toronto. Worse, the Ruso family was directly connected to the smuggling ring that had been moving Alice’s stolen prototype across the border.
Coraline’s jaw tightened as she shifted her search to Michael’s desk, popping the locks on the drawers with ease. She rifled through the contents, her heart pounding. Receipts, notes, and scribbled plans began to form a damning picture. Her fingers brushed against a photograph, and she froze.
It was a picture of Bianca Ruso, wearing scandalously slinky red lingerie. The image alone was bad enough, but the bright lipstick kiss stamped in the corner was a mockery—a bold statement of her connection to Michael. Notes written in Bianca’s elegant handwriting were scattered among the files, detailing their dealings and plans. It wasn’t just business—it was personal. Intimately so.
Coraline’s lips curled into a snarl. “You slimy son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath, venom lacing her words. “You’re literally in bed with the Italian Mafia.”
The weight of what she was uncovering pressed heavily on her. Michael wasn’t just betraying Alice for profit. He was tangled up with the very people who had tried to smuggle her technology across the border. This wasn’t just a betrayal—it was an all-out attack on everything Alice had worked for and believed in.
Vulpes tucked the files and external drive into her bag. She didn’t have time to linger. There was more to uncover, but what she already had would be enough to expose Michael. Now, she just needed to figure out how to use it without completely shattering Alice’s world.
It wasn’t just Alice’s world that was shattering; the entire world was teetering on the edge of chaos.
The Vulpes froze as the comms crackled to life, a voice echoing through the building’s PA system. It sounded like Alice—her cadence, her tone—but something was wrong. There was a sharpness, an edge that wasn’t Alice at all. It felt like someone else was speaking through her, using her voice like a puppet.
“Good morning, Macentyre Systems!” the voice called cheerfully, but with a sinister undercurrent. “I hope you’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed because today is a very special day. You lucky people—and one very unlucky bastard—get to be the first to join me in Wonderland!”
Vulpes’s heart dropped. What the hell was happening? She clutched her earpiece, her mind racing as she processed the surreal announcement. Alice is in the system? The words rattled through her brain. What does she mean by Wonderland? And why does she sound like... this?
She had known Alice for years, had seen her at her lowest and most vulnerable. This was not Alice. This voice carried a chilling confidence, a boldness that Alice had never displayed. It was theatrical, vengeful—a stark contrast to her friend’s shy, thoughtful nature.
Vulpes scrambled to pull up her portable device, trying to tap into the building’s internal systems. She needed to figure out what was happening and fast.
The voice continued, mocking and playful. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain the rules soon enough. Just sit tight, enjoy the show, and remember—this is all thanks to one person. Isn’t that right, Michael?”
Her blood ran cold at the mention of Michael. Alice knows. She must know everything.
Vulpes gritted her teeth, whatever Alice was doing she had to be stopped before she hurt anyone or did something she would regret.
The hallway lights flickered, and then a cascade of colors washed over the walls, creating a surreal, dreamlike effect. The building’s PA crackled again, this time punctuated by distorted laughter.
“Oh, and by the way, don’t try to run. Wonderland is everywhere now.”
Vulpes swore under her breath, her fingers working furiously to hack into the building’s network. Alice—or whoever this is—has taken control of Macentyre Systems. If she’s tapped into project Wonderland…
The implications were horrifying. Vulpes wasn’t just fighting to stop a theft anymore. She had to stop whatever this was before the worst happened.
Vulpes stopped her frantic typing, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as reality set in—there was no way she could out-hack Alice Little. Not on her best days, and certainly not now. The realization felt like a punch to the gut, but she forced herself to focus. Brute force. It wasn’t her style, but it was the only option she had left.
She turned away from the desk, now unrecognizable as it warped into the shape of a giant mushroom under the strange, kaleidoscopic glow filling the room. The air shimmered with an unnatural haze, and the once-ordinary office space now resembled a fantastical garden, complete with twisting vines, oversized flowers, and a lingering sense of whimsy that felt deeply wrong.
“Great,” Vulpes muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “All I need now is a Cheshire Cat to point me in the wrong direction.”
The building’s transformation wasn’t just visual. The air felt heavier, charged with an energy she couldn’t identify. Her advanced lenses, designed to penetrate visual distortions and electronic countermeasures, were useless here. Every scan came back scrambled, the data as nonsensical as the surroundings.
Holograms? Psy-tech-induced hallucinations? She didn’t know. What she did know was that her tools weren’t cutting it. The logical part of her brain told her to retreat and regroup, but that wasn’t an option. Not with Alice in danger—not with the stakes this high.
Time was ticking. She needed to cut the power to the building, to rip Wonderland’s roots out before they dug in too deep. But navigating this surreal dreamscape was proving harder than she anticipated. The hallways seemed to stretch and twist, each turn leading to an unexpected and nonsensical outcome.
One corridor ended abruptly in a wall of shimmering light. Another opened into a room that appeared to be upside-down, furniture clinging to the ceiling. And always, just at the edge of her vision, she thought she saw movement—flashes of figures darting through the colors and shadows.
“Stay focused,” she told herself, tightening her grip on the utility belt at her waist. She forced her breathing to slow, leaning on her training to maintain control. This isn’t real. It can’t be real.
A distorted version of Alice’s voice echoed through the halls, soft and teasing. “Aren’t you all so happy I’ve decided to invite you to tea? To escape the broken dreams and pain of the real world?”
Vulpes clenched her fists, her jaw tightening, steeling herself against the disorienting environment. She reached for her grappling hook, aiming for a section of the ceiling that still seemed intact. If the direct routes were compromised, she’d take the low ground and find her way to the main server room—or better yet, the power grid.
Vulpes braced herself as the grappling hook reeled her toward what she hoped was a vent—a way out of this madness and toward the server room. The surreal world below her twisted and warped, her rational mind struggling to make sense of the kaleidoscopic chaos. Alice, hang in there. I’m coming for you.
***
The transformation had been astonishingly swift. Wonderland Alice, as she now called herself, had claimed an array of experimental “projects” that Alice had previously been tinkering with. Many of these had been marked as potential tools for the Canadian Special Containment Division—designed to assist in handling criminal superbeings. But Wonderland Alice saw them differently: these weren’t tools—they were her toys now. And why shouldn’t they be? After all, Alice had invented them, and Wonderland Alice deemed herself the rightful heir to all that brilliance.
The devices reflected Alice’s penchant for fantasy and whimsy, a trait that delighted Wonderland Alice to no end. With her newfound purpose, she geared up, selecting gadgets that suited her grand vision and donning a very special dress. White and blue, it shimmered with the delicate weave of nano-fiber circuits and intricate crystal matrices, an ensemble fit for the Queen of Wonderland herself.
Giggling like a child at play, Wonderland Alice skipped over to the lab’s bathroom area, her purse swinging at her side. She hummed a cheerful tune as she prepared to perfect her look. “A girl has to look her best,” she chirped, her voice light and melodic as she sifted through her makeup.
Before long, her face was glowing, her makeup flawlessly applied, and her golden hair styled to complement her Wonderland Alice persona. She leaned in closer to the mirror, tilting her head as she admired the vision before her.
“Now don’t you just look beautiful, Looking Glass Alice!” she cooed to her reflection, her wide blue eyes sparkling with delight.
She twirled away from the mirror, the hem of her dress catching the air like petals on a breeze. Tonight, Wonderland wasn’t just a dream—it was her reality. And she couldn’t wait to share it with the world.
With a hop, skip, and a jump, Wonderland Alice crossed the room, landing in an office chair with a flourish. She spun around gleefully, letting out a delighted “Weeee!” before coming to a stop in front of a computer terminal. Her smile stretched wide as her fingers danced over the keyboard, navigating through passwords and security protocols at a breathtaking speed.
"Such boring riddles! Oh, Mister Computer, I do think you should try harder next time!” she giggled, her tone a mix of mockery and childish glee. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for—executive control of all building systems. Her grin widened as she swiftly turned off all audible alerts. “Can’t ruin the surprise now, can we?” she chimed, her voice dripping with mischief.
With a few more keystrokes, she activated the building’s lockdown protocols, sealing every door and ensuring her guests wouldn’t be able to leave before tea time. “Goodie gumdrops!” she squealed, clapping her hands. “Now, let’s wire Project Wonderland directly into the building’s power grid and crank the projectors up to eleven!”
She hopped out of the chair, snatching up a nearby toolbox with a flourish, and skipped over to the lab’s centerpiece: the massive computer server that was the beating heart of Project Wonderland. Unlike the earlier prototypes, which relied on headsets and handheld devices, this was the culmination of all Alice’s work—a server designed to power an entire network of immersive systems. Wonderland Alice knelt before it with an almost reverent expression, humming a cheerful tune as she popped open a panel.
“Work, work, work! Always have to work before we can play!” she mused, pulling out tools and beginning to rewire the system with deft precision. Her giggles filled the room as she imagined the chaos she was about to unleash.
Soon, Wonderland would come alive, and everyone would see the world the way she did—a world of whimsy, madness, and delightful chaos. All those lucky people would get to play and Micheal would get to pay.
***
Michael sauntered down the hall with the easy confidence of a man who believed he held all the cards. Everything was falling into place—Bianca and the Ruso family had proven to be the perfect partners for smuggling Alice’s advanced tech into the hands of eager buyers. And Alice, sweet, naïve Alice, remained blissfully unaware of his true nature. She was his golden goose, and for now, he had no intention of letting her go.
Unless, of course, it became necessary. Pushing her under the bus was always Plan B, his ace in the hole if things started to heat up. But for now, keeping her close and oblivious was far more profitable.
He adjusted his tie as he approached the executive elevator, his reflection in the polished metal doors staring back at him, smug and self-assured. The elevator chimed softly, and the doors slid open. Stepping inside, he pressed the button for the top floor and leaned back against the wall, his mind already wandering to the future.
In a matter of days, he would be drowning in wealth. The foreign powers he’d been negotiating with were salivating at the potential of Project Wonderland and Alice’s innovations. Whether it was for re-educating dissidents, brainwashing political enemies, or creating elite soldiers in record time, the buyers saw limitless possibilities for Alice’s technology.
And what they did with it? That was none of his concern. He was the merchant, not the moral compass. What mattered was the profit, and the profit was staggering.
The elevator hummed quietly as it ascended, and Michael’s lips curved into a smile. He was already mentally celebrating his success, imagining the luxury that awaited him.
He didn’t notice the subtle click of the locks engaging throughout the building, the quiet hum of a system no longer under his control. Nor did he realize that the carefully constructed world he was so proud of was teetering on the edge of chaos—a chaos he couldn’t begin to fathom.
The elevator shuddered to a halt midway between floors, and Michael frowned, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Great, just what I needed. Maintenance issues. He folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, glancing at the floor indicator as if willing it to move. When nothing happened, he reached for the elevator phone, only to stop mid-motion as the building’s PA system crackled to life.
The voice was unmistakably Alice’s, yet something was off. The sweetness in her tone was replaced by an edge of malice, the words laced with unsettling mockery. “Good morning, Macentyre Systems!” she began, her tone saccharine yet chilling. “I hope you’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed because today is a very special day. You lucky people—and one very unlucky bastard—get to be the first to join me in Wonderland!”
Michael froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. What the hell is she talking about? His hand darted back to the elevator phone, but as he lifted the receiver, his stomach sank—it was dead. No dial tone, no lifeline. Panic began to claw its way into his chest as Alice’s voice continued, darker now, dripping with disdain.
“Don’t worry,” she purred, her words curling around him like smoke. “I’ll explain the rules soon enough. Just sit tight, enjoy the show, and remember—this is all thanks to one person. Isn’t that right, Michael?”
His blood ran cold. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t. Yet her voice carried an ominous certainty that gnawed at his confidence. He slammed his fist against the elevator door, the metal ringing hollowly. “Alice!” he shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “Stop this nonsense right now! Do you hear me?”
The only response was the unsettling echo of her laughter, distant yet pervasive, as if the walls themselves were mocking him.
The elevator lights flickered as Michael’s frown deepened. Panic began to creep in, replacing the irritation that had been bubbling beneath the surface. His hand hovered over the emergency button, but a sharp buzz told him it wasn’t working either. The realization hit him like a freight train—he wasn’t in control anymore, not of the building and not of Doctor Alice Little.
Alice’s voice continued through the PA system, its playful tone laced with venom. “Oh, Michael, you’ve been such a naughty little boy. Lying, scheming, cheating—tsk, tsk. You should have known better than to play hurtful games with my dear sweet Alice. But don’t worry, darling. Wonderland is a place where all debts are paid in full.”
He clenched his fists, his mind racing. This can’t be happening. She’s too meek, too naïve—she couldn’t have figured it out. But the voice on the PA, though undeniably hers, carried an authority and malice that sent a chill down his spine.
The elevator jolted suddenly, then started to descend, back towards the basement labs where Alice was waiting. Michael staggered slightly, catching himself against the wall as the lights dimmed, leaving him in eerie, flickering shadows. A small screen in the elevator blinked to life, displaying a smiling cartoon rendition of Alice with exaggerated features—a twisted mix of whimsical and sinister.
“Welcome to Wonderland!” the animated Alice chimed. “Your sins have caught up with you, it's time to pay the piper.”
Michael slammed his fist against the elevator door, his composure unraveling. “Alice! Whatever this is, stop it right now!” he shouted. “We can talk about this!”
The cartoon Alice tilted her head in mock thoughtfulness. “Talk? Oh no, no, no. The time for talking is over.”
The elevator screen suddenly split into multiple panels, each showing distorted, surreal footage from different parts of the building. Employees stumbling through bizarre hallways, their surroundings shifting into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Doors with faces that laughed and jeered. Objects that defied logic and physics. And in the middle of it all, chaos reigned.
“What the hell is this?” Michael muttered, his bravado replaced by growing dread.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the cartoon Alice said cheerily. “You’ll find out soon enough. After all you are my guest of honour, this little playdate will be ever so delightful.” The screen flickered again, the digital display showing him the floors counting down towards the R&D levels where his fate awaited him.
Michael’s eyes widened as he felt a strange tingling sensation creep over his skin. He frantically searched the elevator for an escape, but there was no way out. The countdown hit zero, and the elevator plunged into darkness, leaving Michael alone with the sound of Alice’s eerie laughter echoing in his ears.
***
Screams echoed through the hallways of Macentyre Systems, their panic almost drowned out by the dissonant hum of the surreal environment. Employees who had come in for an ordinary morning shift found themselves trapped in a waking nightmare.
Doors bore grinning faces, their carved mouths spewing riddles that mocked logic. “What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees?” they asked, their answers seemingly a prerequisite for passage. Water Coolers transformed into massive pitcher plants, their bright, translucent leaves dripping with an ominous, honeyed liquid. Tables dissolved into whimsical Victorian furniture, their surfaces set with absurd tea parties where teapots argued and chairs waltzed on spindly legs.
The mundane turned dangerous. Coffee mugs with “Drink Me” labels replaced the usual company-branded ones, while cakes and tarts bearing “Eat Me” messages sat temptingly on desks. Employees stared at these strange items in fear, wondering what would happen if they gave in to the surreal invitations. Some who had dared to take a bite or sip were now sprawled on the floor, shrunk to doll size or floating mid-air, sobbing as they helplessly drifted above the chaos.
Dorothy was among the terrified, her back pressed against the underside of a table that had transformed into a lacquered Victorian monstrosity. She clutched her knees to her chest, trying to drown out the sounds of screaming and the whispering objects that surrounded her.
“There’s no place like home,” she muttered over and over, her voice shaky and thin. “There’s no place like home.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that if she focused hard enough, she could will the nightmare away. But the mantra wasn’t working. The madness around her pressed into her mind, clawing at her sense of reality. Whispers of her own inner demons joined the cacophony, taunting her with fears and insecurities she had fought to bury.
What if you don’t make it out of here? What if this is your new normal? What if you were always meant to end up in a world like this?
“No,” Dorothy whispered harshly, shaking her head. “This isn’t real. I’ve dealt with worse. I can handle this.”
But even as she tried to steady her breathing, the surreal world seemed to close in tighter, the grinning faces on the furniture leering at her. A twisted, mocking voice echoed in her mind, soft and teasing. “There’s no place like Wonderland, dear Dorothy. Why would you ever want to leave?”
Tears pricked at her eyes as she clung to her mantra like a lifeline. “There’s no place like home,” she repeated, more desperate than ever. Somewhere out there, sanity had to still exist. Somewhere out there, someone had to find a way to stop this madness.
She only hoped she could hold on long enough for someone to find her and that they found her before her old demons dragged her away to a place she wasn’t sure she could ever come back from.
