Alice groaned softly as she sipped on a tall glass of water, the cool liquid offering only the faintest reprieve from the throbbing ache in her skull. She had managed to make it to her small kitchen, still in her oversized pajama top, her hair an unkempt mess. The morning light streaming through the windows felt like an assault on her senses, and she briefly considered pulling the blinds shut entirely.
"Never again," she muttered, though even she didn’t believe herself. Dorothy had a way of making those late-night cosmos and laughter-filled movie marathons seem worth it, even when the morning after felt like this.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, and she flinched at the sound before grabbing it, squinting at the screen. It was a text from Michael.
Michael: Morning, love. How are you feeling after your girls’ night?
Alice winced slightly. He was always polite, always kind, but she couldn’t shake the underlying judgment she sometimes felt in his carefully worded messages. She typed back a quick response.
Alice: Recovering. Dorothy might’ve gone a little heavy on the cosmos.
His reply came almost immediately.
Michael: You should really be more careful with her. She’s not the best influence on you.
Alice frowned, her finger hovering over the screen as she debated her response. Dorothy was one of her best friends. Yes, she could be a little wild, but that was part of why Alice adored her. Michael, on the other hand, always seemed to find something to criticize about nearly all of her friends.
Before she could craft a reply, another message buzzed through.
Michael: Rest up. We’ve got dinner reservations tonight. Formal. Can’t wait to see you.
Alice sighed, setting her phone down and rubbing her temples. She appreciated Michael’s thoughtfulness, but sometimes his insistence on formality felt stifling. Tonight wasn’t going to be a cozy, low-pressure date; it would be another polished affair, complete with high heels and expectations.
The date was going to be great, she told herself, just her and her prince charming at some fancy place that gave her an excuse to wear something that made her feel sexy.
"But you wanted to go to Martha's big party didn't you?" asked a quiet voice in her mind's eyes. "I suppose it was nice of your compromise because he is so insecure he can't stand to be in the same room as the guy you had a crush on in College" other Alice added offhandedly.
Alice shook her head as if the motion could physically dislodge the voice. She busied herself with straightening the edges of her kitchen counter and adjusting the coasters that no one ever used. Other Alice was just a part of her inner monologue, nothing more. Therapy had helped her understand that. But sometimes, when the voice crept in with just the right mix of logic and sass, it was hard to ignore.
She took a deep breath and stared out the window at the city below. “The date’s going to be great,” she said aloud, trying to convince herself. “Michael went out of his way to plan something special.”
“Special,” the voice mocked gently. “Sure, if by special you mean something more for him than for you. But hey, at least you get to dress up and pretend you’re not wishing you were with Dorothy, Coraline and Martha tonight.”
Alice pressed her lips into a thin line and reached for her coffee. The warmth of the cup grounded her, the familiar aroma helping to calm the flurry of thoughts. She knew this wasn’t about Michael—or at least, not entirely. It was about the part of her that sometimes felt trapped, even in the moments that were supposed to feel magical. The part of her that had always craved freedom, creativity, and connection over rigid plans and expectations.
“Maybe I’m just overthinking things,” she murmured to herself, taking a sip of the coffee.
“Or maybe,” the voice chimed in again, quieter this time, “you are starting to see the rust on your shining knights armor”
Alice froze mid-sip, the coffee’s warmth no longer comforting but oddly heavy in her hands. Other Alice was being particularly bold today, her words cutting through the fragile narrative Alice had been clinging to. She set the cup down carefully, her movements deliberate as if slowing down could steady her swirling thoughts.
“That’s not fair,” Alice whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet of her apartment. “Michael’s done nothing but care for me. He’s thoughtful, considerate...perfect.”
“Is he?” the voice asked softly, no longer teasing but almost sympathetic. “Or is he perfect because you’ve convinced yourself he has to be?”
Alice turned away from the counter, her reflection catching her eye in the nearby mirror. She stared at the young woman looking back at her—the perfectly curated image of what she thought she needed to be. Bright, capable, and on the verge of a picture-perfect life with a man who seemed to adore her.
But the woman in the mirror didn’t look entirely happy. Her smile was faint, almost forced. The dark circles under her eyes, remnants of last night’s drinking and this morning’s hangover, hinted at something deeper. A weariness she couldn’t quite shake.
“I love him,” Alice said aloud, as if saying it would make the doubt disappear. “He loves me. That’s what matters.”
“Of course, he loves you,” the voice replied gently, “he loves your fame, the money you are about to make him and his daddies company, how submissive you are to him, but do you love him...or the idea of him, the Jason Wright who showed you the attention you craved?”
The words struck Alice like a physical blow, her breath hitching as if the voice had reached into the depths of her insecurities and dragged them into the light. She gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white, as she tried to shake off the growing weight in her chest.
“That’s not true,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Michael’s not like that. He’s...he’s good to me. He cares about me.”
“Does he?” the voice pressed, insidious yet oddly calm. “Or does he care about the Alice Little he’s crafted in his mind? The genius fiancée who’s perfect, pliable, and makes him look like the perfect prince?”
Alice closed her eyes, willing the voice to stop. But the memories started flooding back, unbidden—moments where Michael’s charm felt more like a performance, where his protectiveness bordered on possessiveness, where she’d bitten her tongue instead of speaking her mind. Moments where she felt more like a trophy than a partner.
“And Jason?” Alice asked aloud, her tone defensive, her thoughts racing. “He’s no better. He couldn’t even say how he felt—if he even felt anything. He hid behind his brilliance and never made a move.”
“Please” answered the other voice with a snide tone “You can’t blame him entirely on this, you were just as bad with how shy you were about telling him. If you had just let me talk to him he would have been yours in a heartbeat, but by the time you met him you were keeping me underwraps”
Alice froze, her coffee cup hovering midway to her lips, as the voice’s retort cut through her defenses. It wasn’t just the words but the sharp edge of truth in them that made her chest tighten. She set the cup down with a soft clink, staring at the swirling liquid as if it might hold the answers she sought.
“That’s not fair,” Alice whispered, her voice barely audible. “I was...I wasn’t ready. Things were complicated.”
The voice scoffed. “Complicated? Please. You were terrified. Terrified of rejection. Terrified of ruining the perfect picture you painted of him in your head. And while you were busy hiding behind your walls, so was he. You two were like a tragic comedy of missed chances.”
Alice shook her head, willing the memories away. But they came anyway—glimpses of late-night study sessions, Jason’s crooked grin when he explained something brilliantly convoluted, the way his eyes lit up when they shared ideas. And how she’d always stayed just on the edge of telling him, the words locked behind a wall of fear.
“I was protecting myself,” Alice said softly, a faint tremor in her voice. “You know how things were for me back then. How hard it was to trust anyone.”
The voice softened, losing some of its snide edge. “I do. But you weren’t protecting yourself. You were running. And now you’re here, staring at this engagement ring, wondering if you’re still running.”
Alice’s fingers brushed against the ring, the cool metal grounding her for a moment. “I love Michael,” she said firmly, almost defiantly. “And he loves me.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” the voice replied, calmer now. “But love isn’t just about words, Alice. It’s about feeling seen, feeling safe, and feeling free. Are you sure you have all of that?”
Alice’s throat tightened. She hated how the voice could twist her thoughts, drag her insecurities to the forefront. “He’s good for me,” she murmured, more to herself than the voice.
The voice sighed, almost as if it pitied her. “Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s just good at fitting the image you think you need. Just don’t forget—you deserve more than that. You deserve someone who sees all of you, even the messy parts you try to hide.”
Alice stared at the coffee, her reflection rippling in the dark liquid. The words lingered in the quiet room, unspoken but impossible to ignore. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and stood.
“Enough,” she said firmly, silencing the voice. “Tonight is about Michael. I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking with it.”
The voice didn’t respond, but its absence felt heavy, as if it had left a question mark hanging in the air.
Alice stood and set her jaw, her resolve hardening. Other Alice wasn’t just being talkative—she was intruding, pressing too far into places she hadn’t ventured in years. It wasn’t something Alice was going to tolerate, not now, not after how hard she’d worked to create a life of stability and peace.
She downed the remainder of her coffee in a single gulp, the bitterness grounding her for a fleeting moment, and strode purposefully to the bathroom. Swinging open the medicine cabinet mirror, she stared at the neatly arranged rows of pill bottles. Their labels bore familiar names—antidepressants, antianxiety meds, antipsychotics—medications prescribed to help her keep her balance, to ease the grip of the voices that had once ruled her thoughts.
Her reflection caught her gaze, and for a moment, she hesitated. A part of her hated this reliance on chemicals, this constant need to suppress the part of her mind that had once been her protector. Other Alice had emerged in her darkest moments, born out of necessity—a fierce, unapologetic shield against a world that had hurt her in ways she still struggled to articulate. But that shield had turned into a cage, one Alice had spent years learning to open.
“You’re not in control anymore,” Alice whispered to her reflection, her tone resolute but tinged with sadness. “Not now. Not ever again.”
She reached for the familiar amber bottle of her current prescription, shaking a single pill into her palm. The tiny white capsule seemed unassuming, but she knew the peace it could offer, the quieting of the incessant whispers, the easing of the tight grip that Other Alice seemed to have on her today.
Swallowing the pill with a sip of water, Alice closed the cabinet and leaned against the sink, letting out a slow, measured breath. She needed to regain focus, to remind herself of how far she’d come. Other Alice had been a part of her, yes, but she wasn’t the one steering the ship anymore.
The faint hum of her phone vibrating on the counter pulled her attention away. Straightening, Alice picked it up and glanced at the notification—Michael had texted again, confirming their reservation for dinner and reminding her of the time. She sighed, slipping the phone into her pocket and meeting her reflection’s gaze once more.
“You’ve got this,” she told herself firmly. “One step at a time.”
With that, she turned and left the bathroom, determined to push past the lingering echoes of doubt and make the most of the day ahead.
Alice found a certain comfort in the steady rhythm of her Saturday routine, a relief in the mundane tasks that kept her occupied and grounded. The hangover was still there, a dull, persistent reminder of the previous night’s indulgences, but it was manageable—a small price to pay for the reprieve it brought from Other Alice’s earlier intrusions. By evening, the familiar sense of normalcy had returned, and she was ready to focus on her upcoming date.
Not just ready—excited. Alice had always loved the ritual of getting dressed up, of carefully applying makeup, choosing the perfect outfit, and crafting a version of herself that felt polished and confident. It was the closest she came to the joy she’d once felt in cosplay, an indulgence she shared with Other Alice. Dressing up, wearing wigs, creating new personas—it had always been more than a hobby. It was freedom. It was transformation. It was a way to step outside herself, to become someone else, even if only for a little while.
As Alice sat in front of her vanity, delicately sweeping blush across her cheeks, she thought about that freedom. Maybe it was because, deep down, she didn’t always like herself. Not the way she looked, not the way her mind worked, not the way she struggled to fit into a world that often felt like it wasn’t built for her. Even the compliments she got—being called “cute” or “adorable”—sometimes felt like backhanded reminders of what she wasn’t. She wasn’t tall or striking or curvaceous. She wasn’t what some would call traditionally beautiful. No, she was petite, awkward, and, as a few people had cruelly put it in the past, “weird.”
Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her, and for a moment, she hesitated. The makeup was perfect, the dress hugged her figure just right, and the heels gave her the height she sometimes wished for. Yet, she couldn’t shake the quiet voice in the back of her mind, her own voice, whispering that it wasn’t enough. That she wasn’t enough.
Alice took a deep breath, shaking off the thought. She wasn’t going to let those insecurities ruin her evening. She was going out with Michael, the man who loved her, who always told her how beautiful she was. Maybe she didn’t always feel it, but tonight, she was determined to own it. She straightened in her chair, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, and smiled at her reflection.
“You’ve got this,” she murmured softly, the words a small but vital reassurance.
Standing up, Alice slipped into her heels and grabbed her clutch. Tonight wasn’t about the doubts, the voices, or the past. It was about celebrating who she was now—flaws, quirks, and all. She wasn’t perfect, but Micheal treated her like she was and that was what mattered most.
***.
Étoile Bistro, was the kind of place Alice could only dream of dining at. Soft lighting, pristine white tablecloths, and the gentle hum of live piano music created an atmosphere of pure sophistication. From the moment she stepped inside, she felt like she had stepped into a fairytale.
Michael, as always, was the perfect gentleman. He pulled out her chair, complimented her dress with genuine admiration, and ordered a vintage bottle of wine that the waiter spoke of like it was a work of art. But what truly made her heart skip a beat was the way Michael looked at her.
There was something in his gaze—equal parts awe and desire—that made Alice blush whenever their eyes met. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time all over again, his attention lingering just a second longer than it should. She caught him sneaking glances when he thought she wasn’t looking, his lips curving into a barely-there smile when their eyes inevitably locked.
Alice couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence. It wasn’t that she liked being objectified—far from it—but knowing that her boyfriend was so obviously smitten, so captivated by her, made her feel something she rarely allowed herself to feel: gorgeous and empowered.
Every time his gaze lingered, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. And that was a hard feeling not to enjoy.
“You’re staring,” she teased, taking a small sip of her wine.
Michael didn’t flinch, his grin widening. “Can you blame me? I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
Alice laughed softly, warmth blooming in her chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone light but his eyes smoldering just enough to make her cheeks flush again.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Alice let herself relax. The doubts, the insecurities, the voice that sometimes whispered in the back of her mind—all of it faded into the background. Here, under Michael’s adoring gaze and in the enchanting glow of Étoile Bistro, Alice allowed herself to believe, just for tonight, that she was everything he saw in her. And that she was the princess who had found her prince charming.
The evening was everything Alice had hoped for and more. Michael seemed to know exactly how to make her feel cherished. A heavy dose of compliments, subtle but heartfelt, coupled with romance poured on thick—yet never overbearing—created an atmosphere straight out of a dream. He moved with the poise and manners of a Victorian gentleman, as though plucked from the pages of an expertly written romantic fantasy.
The meal was exquisite. Each course was an adventure in taste, from the delicate amuse-bouche to the rich, perfectly prepared entrée. Michael, ever the attentive partner, watched her reactions to every dish with a subtle smile, delighting in her enjoyment.
“Do you know,” he began, swirling the wine in his glass, “that you light up every room you walk into?”
Alice laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s the wine talking.”
“Maybe,” he said, leaning in just slightly, his tone lowering to something more intimate. “Or maybe I just know a rare gem when I see one.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head, though she couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re beautiful,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world.
As the night progressed, Alice let herself revel in the moment. The worries about work, the weight of her responsibilities, and even the faint nagging of other Alice felt a world away. Here, in the soft light of the bistro, with Michael holding her hand across the table and looking at her like she was his entire world, she allowed herself to feel worthy of the happiness she rarely let herself embrace.
For tonight, there were no doubts, no whispers in her mind. There was only the warmth of Michael’s gaze, the sweetness of his words, and the fairytale they were building together, one perfect moment at a time.
As the evening drew to a close, Alice felt a rare surge of confidence, the wine having eroded her usual shyness enough for her to be uncharacteristically bold. She leaned in across the table, her lips curling into what she hoped was her most enticing smile. “So, shall we retire to your place or mine, Mr. Macentyre?”
Michael chuckled softly, clearly charmed, but just as he opened his mouth to respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted immediately. “Sorry, Alice, it’s work. I have to take this.”
Alice sat back, her playful mood dimmed slightly as Michael answered the call. She sipped the last of her wine, idly watching him as he listened intently to whoever was on the other end of the line.
“Yes?” Michael said into the phone, his tone tinged with irritation. “You need me right now? I was hoping to have an evening to myself…” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly as he nodded. “No, I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He ended the call and turned back to Alice, his expression a mixture of guilt and disappointment. “Alice, I’m so sorry. I—”
She cut him off with a gentle wave of her hand and a kind smile. “No, no, I understand,” she said, her tone soft and sincere. “I won’t make you feel bad for having to attend to something important. There will be plenty of time for me to get my Michael time on our honeymoon in Mexico.”
She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, a gesture of both understanding and reassurance. When she pulled back, her smile was warm, but there was a flicker of something else behind her eyes—something she wasn’t even sure she wanted to name.
Michael exhaled, visibly relieved. “You’re incredible, you know that? Thank you for being so understanding.”
Alice shrugged lightly, keeping her tone light. “It’s what a good fiancée does. Go save the day, or the company, or whatever it is you Macentyres do when you’re called away at the worst times.”
He laughed softly, kissing her forehead before standing and helping her to her feet. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You always do,” Alice replied, though she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was saying it more for his benefit than her own. As Michael escorted her out of the bistro and into a waiting car.
***
Michael’s kiss still lingered on Alice’s forehead as she unlocked her apartment door, her earlier disappointment fading into a more measured acceptance. The night had been lovely despite its abrupt end, and she reminded herself that Michael’s dedication to his work was part of what made him admirable. As the door clicked shut behind her, she froze.
A breeze brushed her cheek. Her stomach dropped. Had she left a window open?
The city’s faint hum filtered through her living room, but something felt...off. She locked the door, reaching for the light switch when a voice sliced through the darkness.
“Doctor Little, I need to ask you a question.”
Alice’s heart lurched. Instinctively, her hand shot to her bracelet, a small psi-tech device she’d designed for personal safety. A twist of her wrist would activate it, delivering a psychokinetic punch strong enough to flatten a linebacker.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Please, don’t be alarmed,” the voice replied, low and measured. “The matter was urgent, and I had no other way to contact you.”
The shadows shifted as the figure stepped forward into the soft light spilling through the window. A tall woman stood before her, clad in a striking outfit of vibrant orange and black. Her cape swayed gently, its fur collar adding a predatory elegance. Masked with pointed ears and glowing yellow eyes, her vulpine visage was unmistakable. The Vulpes.
Alice exhaled sharply, her pulse still racing. Toronto’s notorious vigilante stood in her apartment, uninvited and unapologetic. Depending on the news source, the Vulpes was either a dangerous outlaw or an urban hero waging war on crime. Alice had always leaned toward the latter but trusting anyone—especially someone who had just broken into her home—was a leap she wasn’t about to take lightly.
“I'm going to turn on the lights,” Alice stated, keeping her hand near her bracelet.
The Vulpes nodded once, a gesture of cooperation, as Alice reached for the switch. The fluorescent glow illuminated the room, revealing the masked woman fully. Her stance was relaxed but alert, exuding confidence with just enough restraint to show she wasn’t here to harm.
From beneath her cape, the Vulpes produced a small envelope and placed several photographs onto the coffee table. Alice’s brow furrowed as she stepped closer, her gaze darting between the photos and her uninvited guest. “What are these? How did you get them?”
The Vulpes’ voice was calm but firm. “They came from a busted smuggling operation led by an Italian syndicate. They claimed they were selling to an American buyer.”
Alice’s breath hitched as she picked up the photographs, her hands trembling slightly. Phase one prototypes. Project Wonderland tech she had ordered dismantled months ago. Yet here they were, captured in vivid detail. Her mind raced as she examined them, every detail confirming their authenticity.
“These...these were scrapped,” Alice murmured, more to herself than to her guest. “After the tests produced dangerous levels of neural feedback, I made sure they were dismantled. They shouldn’t exist.”
The Vulpes folded her arms, her piercing yellow eyes locking onto Alice. “Well, someone made sure they did. And now they’re in circulation. Whoever smuggled these prototypes isn’t just selling them for profit—they’re selling them to someone who knows exactly how dangerous they are.”
Alice’s heart sank, dread coiling in her chest. Wonderland had been her dream, a project meant to revolutionize immersive technology. But the early prototypes had turned into a nightmare when the neural feedback threatened to cause irreparable harm to users. She thought she had buried it, dismantled it, and moved on.
Project Wonderland had moved on and improved since the first prototype but the fact someone had stolen her blueprints or even the physical devices worried her deeply and the look on her face couldn’t hide her fears.
Under her mask Coraline was both deeply thankful that Alice had a terrible poker face and was one of the worst liars she knew. A part of her had worried Alice had gotten involved with Ruso family but her reactions made it clear she was shocked and appalled that her prototype had fallen into their hands.
“Someone at Macentyre Systems has either stolen your early design or never took it apart” spoke the Vulpes calmly mirroring what Alice was thinking.
Alice slowly nodded as she tried to avoid a looming anxiety attack. The Vulpes were right, someone close to the project had betrayed her and her trust. Had betrayed Macentyre Systems, breached its security and was selling her invention on the black market. If the Vulpes hadn’t interrupted this sale and someone had reversed engineered even the early prototype it generated nightmarish possibilities for abuse of the technology. “... Mind reprogramming, emotional manipulation, brainwashing...” Alice murmured as she considered the ramifications that might have been if the Vulpes hadn’t stepped in.
“I, I trust my team, or I did trust them, there are only a handful of people who work there that had the kind of clearance required to get their hands on this” Alice sat down on her couch the weight of the knowledge falling on her shoulders the the earth itself upon Atlas.
The Vulpes stayed silent for a moment, watching as Alice’s emotions played out across her face. The vigilante had expected shock and anger, but the overwhelming sense of betrayal Alice exuded was palpable. It reinforced Coraline’s initial hunch—Alice wasn’t involved in this, not willingly, and whoever was behind it had struck a devastating blow against her trust.
“You’re right,” the Vulpes finally said, her tone softer but still firm.
Alice looked up at the masked woman, her hands gripping her knees as if to steady herself. “This tech wasn’t meant for any of this. It was supposed to help people. Immersive therapy, virtual education, even psionics training for Specials with latent abilities... That’s why I created it. Not... not this.”
The Vulpes crouched slightly, her imposing figure lowering to meet Alice at eye level. “I believe you. But we don’t have time to mourn what it could’ve been. We need to figure out who’s behind this and stop them before they can do any more damage.”
Alice swallowed hard and nodded. “You said the Italians were smuggling this, right? Did you find anything else? Names, locations, anything that could lead us to whoever bought—or stole—this tech?”
Coraline straightened, her mind already piecing together the next steps. “The operation I hit was small-time—a distribution point. The buyer wasn’t there, but now that I can confirm this came out of Macentyre Systems and your lab I have a solid lead”
Alice's brow furrowed, a mixture of dread and determination flickering in her eyes. “What lead?”
Coraline leaned slightly against the back of a chair, her posture still sharp and alert despite the late hour. “Someone with your clearance—or close to it—moved this out of Macentyre Systems under the nose of one the best paid security retinues in North America. This was an inside job, deep inside would be my guess. Corporate espionage at its best”
Alice’s lips pressed into a thin line, her mind racing. “Corporate espionage,” she repeated, the weight of the words sinking in. “So, someone I know, someone I trusted, sold out my work...”
Coraline nodded, her yellow eyes unreadable behind the mask. “It’s not uncommon. Companies like Macentyre Systems, Wright International—anyone on the cutting edge of tech—are always targets. And with something as groundbreaking as Psi-Tech, you had to know someone was going to take notice.”
Alice felt her stomach twist. She thought she’d taken every precaution, trusted only a handful of people, but now it was clear someone had slipped through the cracks. “So what now? You have names, right?”
“Not yet,” Coraline admitted, her voice calm but resolute. “But I’ll get them. This kind of operation leaves trails. People talk, bribes are exchanged, documents get forged. Even the best-covered tracks leave something behind. What I need from you is access—names of everyone with clearance to your project, timelines, anything unusual in the logs.”
Alice hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I can pull all that. But if this goes public—if Macentyre Systems finds out their golden project was stolen—”
“They’ll bury it,” Coraline finished bluntly. “You’ll get the blame, and whoever did this walks away richer than they started. That’s why we’re keeping this off the books for now.”
Alice nodded then glanced up at the Vulpes “Why, why are you helping me?”
A part of the Vulpes under her mask, Coraline wanted to say it was because you are my friend, because you deserve better then be tangled up in this but she knew she couldn’t right now she was the Vulpes not Coraline Penrose and the Vulpes didn’t have any such connection to Alice Little.
“Because, I fight crime and because this technology in the wrong hands could hurt countless lives” was her steely reply.
Alice studied the masked vigilante, her expression unreadable for a moment. She wanted to believe the Vulpes, wanted to trust in her conviction, but something about her calm, measured response tugged at the back of Alice's mind.
"That's it?" Alice asked cautiously. "No strings, no ulterior motives? Just doing it for the greater good?"
The Vulpes met Alice's gaze evenly, her yellow eyes glinting with resolve. "That's what I do, Doctor Little, someone has to step up when the system fails."
Alice nodded slowly, her wariness tempered by a faint flicker of trust. "Alright," she said quietly. "Thank you. I mean it."
The Vulpes inclined her head slightly, her voice softening just enough to hint at the humanity behind the mask. "Don't thank me yet. We’re just getting started."
Alice looked down at the photos on the coffee table, her thoughts swirling with a mix of fear and determination. “I’ll get you everything I can. Names, logs, whatever you need. If this is my fault somehow—if I missed something—”
“Don’t,” the Vulpes interrupted, her tone sharp but not unkind. “This isn’t on you. Someone betrayed your trust, Alice. They’re the ones who made this happen, not you.”
Alice swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding again. “You’re right. I just...I need to fix this.”
“And you will, you already have by helping me get to the bottom of this,” the Vulpes said firmly. She stepped back toward the window, her movements as silent and fluid as a shadow.
“And you will. You already have by helping me get to the bottom of this,” the Vulpes said firmly, her voice unwavering. She stepped back toward the window, her movements as silent and fluid as a shadow.
“Wait,” Alice called out, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. The Vulpes paused, turning her masked face back toward Alice.
“This might help your investigation,” Alice said, hurrying to the small drawer in her kitchen. She rummaged through it quickly, pulling out a pen and a notepad usually reserved for mundane things like grocery lists. Her hands moved with urgency as she scrawled down a list of names—every single person who had the clearance or access to Project Wonderland. It wasn’t a long list, but it was thorough, and Alice knew it might hold the key to finding whoever was behind this.
She tore the page from the pad and crossed the room to offer it to the Vulpes. “I’m trusting you with this,” Alice said, her voice trembling just slightly. “Trusting that you can make sure my technology never hurts anyone.”
The Vulpes took the list, her gloved fingers brushing against the paper as she tucked it securely into her utility belt. She looked at Alice for a moment, her piercing yellow eyes meeting Alice’s with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.
“I promise,” the Vulpes said simply, her voice low but heavy with conviction. There was something in the way she said it, something so resolute and genuine, that for the first time all night, Alice felt a small glimmer of hope.
Without another word, the Vulpes turned and disappeared through the window, her cape billowing softly as she vanished into the Toronto skyline. Alice stood there for a moment, staring after her, the faint chill of the night air creeping into the room.
She clutched the edge of the countertop, her mind racing faster by the second. Whoever had betrayed her trust, whoever had taken her creation and twisted it into something dangerous—they wouldn’t, they couldn’t win.
Taking a deep breath, Alice closed the window and locked it, her apartment suddenly feeling both too quiet and suffocatingly small. But as she turned back toward the dimly lit room, she found herself whispering softly to no one in particular:
“I promise, too.” and Alice heard a voice in her mind, one she knew all too well to add “No one hurts my Alice...”
