The Vulpes moved cautiously through the maze of vents and ducts that wove their way through the labyrinthine structure of Macentyre Systems. The ducts, once unremarkable stretches of metal, now appeared to shimmer and twist like winding tunnels carved into a whimsical warren. Illusions conjured by the warped psyche of Project Wonderland distorted her every step, forcing her to cling to logic and reason to maintain her focus.
She paused for a moment, crouched in a section of the duct where the walls seemed to shift between ornate stained glass and pulsating, breathing wood. It was a disorienting effect, the flickering images almost hypnotic in their intensity. Vulpes clenched her fists and took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus.
This isn’t real. It’s an illusion, she reminded herself. Her advanced lenses, designed to filter out interference and detect the truth behind what she saw, were struggling against the sheer complexity of the illusions. Wonderland had taken over every aspect of the building’s systems, warping both the physical and digital landscape with her erratic genius.
The ducts groaned slightly as the building’s heating system kicked on, the sound morphing into an eerie laugh that echoed through the narrow space. Vulpes tensed, her heart pounding for a brief moment before she forced herself to push forward. Her tools hung securely at her side, a comforting reminder of her readiness to face whatever lay ahead.
The further she descended, the more oppressive the illusions became. The ducts began to resemble an ancient rabbit warren, the earthy scent of soil and moss filling her nose. Her gloves brushed against walls that felt rough and uneven, like tree roots coiling around her. She knew better than to trust her senses, but the sheer immersion of the experience made it harder and harder to separate fact from fiction.
A sharp screech echoed behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Vulpes froze, her ears straining to identify the source of the sound. The screech came again, followed by the unmistakable flutter of wings. The drones, she thought grimly. Wonderland must have reprogrammed them to hunt anyone moving through the building.
Keep moving. Stay focused. She repeated the mantra in her mind as she climbed deeper into the building. The R&D levels were still far below, but she wasn’t going to stop until she reached the heart of the chaos. Wonderland might have turned the building into her playground, but Vulpes wasn’t about to let her keep it.
The worst part, Vulpes realized grimly, was the certainty that not-Alice knew she was coming. Wonderland was watching, anticipating her every move, and that knowledge gnawed at her resolve. The building’s current state made it nearly impossible to discern where the real threats lay. Motion sensors and alarms in the vents were masked by the illusions, the very walls seeming to breathe and shift as if alive. She was operating blind, relying more on instinct and training than her usually meticulous planning.
The drones were a pressing concern, but Vulpes knew they weren’t the worst of it. Wonderland’s genius wasn’t limited to reprogramming security systems and creating chaos. The true danger lay ahead—deep within the R&D levels.
She knows I’m coming, Vulpes thought, her jaw tightening. Wonderland wasn’t just reacting; she was preparing, setting the stage for a confrontation on her terms.
A faint chime echoed through the vent, a sound that might have once been part of the building’s security system but now carried an eerie, singsong quality. “Little fox, oh little fox,” Wonderland’s voice cooed through the PA system. “You’re getting closer! It’s so exciting! I can’t wait for us to play. I’ve set up such delightful surprises for you!” The voice dissolved into gleeful laughter, leaving Vulpes’ skin crawling.
She paused briefly, her breath steady as she adjusted the filters on her mask. Wonderland’s illusions were relentless, and the psychological weight of her taunts added an extra layer of tension. She couldn’t afford to lose focus—not now.
The Vulpes pressed forward, every movement deliberate and precise. Her path narrowed, the vent walls closing in like the throat of some monstrous beast. She scanned for anything out of place—a faint glimmer, a subtle distortion in the air—but the illusions made it nearly impossible to separate reality from Wonderland’s twisted fantasy.
Her hand hovered over her belt, fingers brushing against her remaining gadgets; they were her lifelines. But would they be enough? Stay ahead of the drones, stay ahead of the traps, she reminded herself.
Reaching R&D wasn’t just about stopping Wonderland. It was about reaching Alice—or whatever was left of her. Vulpes couldn’t forget that the woman behind this chaos was her friend. And if she couldn’t save Alice from herself, the consequences would ripple far beyond the confines of Macentyre Systems.
The Vulpes hesitated, staring at the tiny wooden door she’d just pushed open. On the other side lay a yawning abyss, cloaked in illusionary theatrics. The pit appeared as an endless void, swirling with vibrant colors and unsettling whispers, but she knew better. This was an elevator shaft—an unorthodox but effective shortcut through the building. It was risky, but it could save her valuable time. And time was something she didn’t have much of.
She crouched at the edge, carefully assessing the situation. The faint glint of elevator cables peeked through the kaleidoscopic mirage, giving her a sense of orientation. Her mask’s thermal filter picked up faint heat signatures further down—likely residual energy from the elevators themselves. If this is what it seems, I can rappel down to the lower levels. But the illusions made her second-guess every assumption.
Wonderland’s voice floated through the air again, singsong and teasing. “Ooooh, brave little fox, stepping into the unknown! What’s the plan, I wonder? Are you going to jump? Swing? Fly? Oh, how exciting!” The laughter that followed was equal parts childlike and sinister.
Vulpes clenched her jaw, her fingers brushing the line of her grappling hook. “Keep talking, Wonderland,” she muttered under her breath. “Every second you waste taunting me is another second closer to me shutting you down.”
She anchored the hook to a nearby beam, testing the tension with a sharp tug before securing it to her belt. The cable felt solid—real, at least for now. She adjusted her mask, switching to a spectrum that helped cut through most of Wonderland’s visual tricks, and began her descent into the shaft.
The drop was dizzying. The walls of the shaft rippled with glowing vines, cascading waterfalls, and eerie, floating lanterns. Each illusion pulsed with unnatural life, but Vulpes forced herself to focus solely on the tangible—her grip on the cable, the steady rhythm of her descent.
About halfway down, the shaft trembled, the illusions flickering momentarily. Wonderland’s voice returned, this time sharper, with a hint of frustration. “Oh, you’re no fun, Vulpes! Skipping my lovely traps like that. It’s almost rude, don’t you think? Fine, let’s see how you handle this!”
Suddenly, the elevator cables above her began to hum and vibrate. A deep, metallic groan echoed through the shaft, and Vulpes looked up to see one of the elevator cars start to shift unnaturally, as if being pulled by invisible hands. It wasn’t falling—it was rising. Fast.
She’s overriding the elevator systems, Vulpes thought grimly. She tightened her grip and descended faster, her muscles straining as the tension in the cable increased. The rising car was catching up to her.
“Down the rabbit hole you go!” Wonderland taunted, her laughter reverberating through the shaft.
Vulpes gritted her teeth and scanned for an exit. There—a maintenance hatch just a few meters below. She pushed herself harder, adrenaline surging as the rising car closed the distance. With a final burst of effort, she swung toward the hatch, kicking it open and diving through just as the car screeched to a halt inches from where she’d been.
She landed in a dark, narrow corridor, her breath coming in sharp bursts. The faint glow of the illusions filtered in through the cracks of the walls, but the space felt more stable. For now.
“Nice try,” she muttered, brushing herself off and readjusting her gear. She straightened and assessed her surroundings. The place was dimly lit, the shadows deep and impenetrable, but strangely the chaotic distortions of Wonderland’s illusions seemed muted here. The bleeding edges of reality that plagued the rest of the building were less frequent, flickering faintly at the corners of her vision. Vulpes tilted her head slightly, her tactical mind running through possibilities. Maybe this area isn’t as connected to the grid? Or perhaps Wonderland’s focus is elsewhere right now?
Cautiously, she began moving forward. The air was cool and still, her footsteps soft against the smooth floor. The repetitive nature of the dark grey walls and ceiling gave her an uneasy feeling, as though she were walking into an endless maze. She glanced at her surroundings, searching for an exit, but the environment only became stranger the farther she ventured.
There were no vents, no doors, no windows—just the same smooth, featureless walls repeating over and over. It was unnerving. This has to be part of the illusion, she thought. Nothing in a building like this is this uniform, this... sterile. Her hand hovered near her utility belt, her thumb brushing against one of her shock grenades. If this was Wonderland’s doing, maybe disrupting the electrical signals in the area would create a break in the illusion.
But something about the space made her hesitate. It felt... too intentional. Too calculated. The absence of the fantastical, the bizarrely subdued nature of the hall—it was almost as if Wonderland wanted her to think she’d found a safe zone.
A chill ran down her spine as she turned a corner, the corridor stretching out in front of her in the same endless grey monotony. She slowed her pace, her instincts screaming at her to be wary. Her hand reached up to adjust her mask, scanning for any anomalies, but the readings came back blank. No heat signatures, no hidden electronics, nothing.
“Come on,” she whispered under her breath. “What are you hiding?”
Her question was met with a low, distant hum that sent vibrations through the floor beneath her boots. It was faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew steadily louder, the tone shifting into an eerie, resonant frequency that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She froze, her eyes darting around for the source of the sound.
Then, just ahead of her, the wall began to ripple. It wasn’t like the colorful, whimsical illusions she’d seen before—this was darker, more visceral. The smooth surface pulsed like liquid, shifting into a texture that resembled cracked glass. Shadows moved within the ripples, forming indistinct shapes that seemed to watch her, their presence oppressive and malevolent.
“Well,” she muttered, gripping the hilt of her grappling hook, “so much for a stable zone.”
The ripple expanded, creeping closer, the shapes within growing more defined. They were humanoid but distorted, their limbs stretching and twisting unnaturally. A voice echoed from the rippling surface, soft and almost amused.
“Oh, little fox,” Wonderland’s voice purred, now lower and dripping with menace. “Did you really think you could find a safe place here? Wonderland sees all, my dear.”
Vulpes clenched her jaw, her hand tightening around her grappling hook. “Then let’s make this interesting,” she said under her breath, readying herself for whatever nightmare Wonderland had conjured next.
Vulpes tensed, her heart pounding in her chest as the shadowy figures glided closer, their unnatural movements like specters borne of nightmares. Her instincts screamed at her to flee or fight, but her training and logic pushed through the rising panic. She noticed something—her lenses weren’t detecting the figures. Her audio sensors weren’t picking up the ominous hum either. The readings on her gear remained frustratingly blank.
Her tech wasn’t seeing or hearing anything because, in reality, there was nothing there.
Vulpes exhaled sharply, forcing her breath to steady. She clenched her fists and made a decision: she had to trust her tools over her senses. Wonderland could manipulate her mind, but it couldn’t trick the hardware she carried.
She shut her eyes, deliberately cutting off the illusions, and tapped her helmet’s side, cycling the data feed to audio descriptions of her surroundings. A soft voice, calm and automated, filled her ear.
“Corridor: twenty meters straight. No obstacles detected. Environmental temperature: stable. No motion within range.”
The voice anchored her, reaffirming that her perception was being warped but not reality itself. The figures, with their grotesque limbs and haunting presence, weren’t real. They were phantoms conjured by Wonderland, designed to unnerve her, distract her, or even drive her to make a fatal mistake.
“I’m catching on to your tricks” she muttered under her breath, a determined smirk forming on her lips. She pressed forward, moving briskly through the corridor while keeping her eyes closed. Her reliance on her helmet’s audio guidance felt counterintuitive, but it kept her grounded.
The automated voice calmly narrated her surroundings, its unchanging monotone providing a lifeline of clarity. “Right turn approaching in five meters. Corridor continues for fifty meters. No obstructions detected.”
The sound of the figures seemed to grow louder, almost pressing against her ears, but she ignored it. It wasn’t real, just a trick to force her eyes open and break her resolve.
“You won’t break me, I can see the wizard behind the screen” she said, her voice low but steady. “I won't be falling for parlor tricks.”
The corridor twisted ahead, and the automated voice guided her around the turn. Her muscles remained taut, ready to spring into action should Wonderland’s illusions turn into something more tangible. For now, her focus remained on following her tech’s input, blocking out the whispers and shapes clawing at her sanity.
With each step forward, her confidence grew. Wonderland might control the senses of those trapped inside, but Vulpes wasn’t just anyone. She was prepared, and she was determined to reach the heart of the chaos and bring Alice back—before it was too late.
Vulpes reassured herself, relying on the calm, factual narration in her ear. The audio description painted a picture that directly contradicted the unsettling illusions Wonderland tried to impose on her. She wasn’t in some endless, shadowy corridor or haunted maze.
“Maintenance area,” she muttered under her breath, clinging to the simplicity of the idea. “Utilitarian. Plain. Built for engineers and janitorial staff.”
The automated voice confirmed it: “Maintenance corridor. Standard utility layout. Emergency access panel 15 meters ahead. No anomalies detected.”
The mental image of a straightforward, utilitarian space grounded her. She visualized fluorescent lighting, beige walls, and exposed pipes—a practical environment designed without the imagination Wonderland was trying to inject into her mind.
The phantom figures continued to press at the edges of her perception, whispering nonsensical words and flickering in and out of existence, but her tech was steadfast. “No motion detected,” it repeated, reinforcing the absence of anything tangible.
“I’m walking through an ordinary hallway,” Vulpes said aloud, her voice firm and steady. “No ghosts. No monsters. Just a plain maintenance area.”
She pressed forward, her steps measured and deliberate. The key was to stay calm, to resist the illusions attempting to worm their way into her psyche. Wonderland could make her see and hear things, but it couldn’t change the truth—and right now, the truth was that this was just a corridor, a means to an end.
Ahead, the audio feed announced: “Emergency access panel located. Four meters to your left.”
Vulpes paused, adjusting her course slightly. The access panel would lead her deeper into the building, closer to the R&D levels where the heart of this chaos pulsed. It was time to move closer to the source—and to Alice. With a deep breath, she braced herself and moved toward the panel, her tools ready to crack it open.
“Just a maintenance area,” she repeated, her mantra a shield against Wonderland’s creeping madness.
Vulpes carefully ran her gloved hands over the exit, feeling along the smooth surface until her fingers found the lock and keypad. There was no subtle way to bypass it—not with Wonderland distorting her senses and her tools struggling against the heightened security. She sighed, resigned to the necessity of brute force.
From her utility belt, she extracted a small packet of plastique. Tearing it open with practiced precision, she squeezed the putty-like substance along the edges of the lock, shaping it to ensure maximum effect. Once satisfied, she retrieved a small electronic detonator and pressed it firmly into the plastique.
“This isn’t exactly my style,” she muttered, her voice low and focused, “but I’m out of options.”
She stepped back, double-checking her surroundings to ensure she had adequate cover. The situation didn’t leave much room for finesse, but she had no intention of letting that stop her.
Vulpes crouched behind a sturdy support beam, the detonator in her hand humming softly as it awaited activation. She took a steadying breath and whispered to herself, “Let’s hope this doesn’t bring the whole place down.”
With a quick press of her thumb, she triggered the device. The explosion was sharp but contained, more of a muffled crack than an ear-splitting blast. Smoke wafted from the damaged lock, and the door sagged slightly, its mechanism rendered useless.
Vulpes moved swiftly, tugging the door open and stepping through without hesitation. Her eyes and tools scanned the area ahead, her mind already focused on the next obstacle as she descended deeper into the belly of Wonderland.
The Vulpes opened her eyes, the monochromatic hallway stretching before her as she took a cautious step forward. Her instincts screamed to stay on guard, but curiosity—and the need to move deeper—compelled her to keep going. The grey gave way to something more surreal as she pushed open a set of imposing double doors, the cool metal heavy under her hands.
What lay beyond made her stop in her tracks.
A sprawling Victorian workhouse unfolded before her, a scene both mesmerizing and unnerving. Massive machines chugged and whirred, their gears grinding in a symphony of metallic clicks and rhythmic hisses. Steam hissed from pipes overhead, billowing in swirling clouds that made the air feel heavy and humid.
Above her, clockwork limbs dangled from chains, their mechanical forms a strange mix of craftsmanship and grotesquery. Some ended in delicate, articulated fingers, moving as if testing their range of motion. Others were adorned with whimsical, steampunk-inspired tools—sparklers, pincers, and bizarre appendages that defied logic.
The space felt alive, the machines groaning and clanking like an orchestra of industry. Shadows danced across the intricate walls, cast by the flickering light of gas lamps and the glow of molten metal being poured into molds by mechanical arms. Despite its steampunk charm, there was an underlying menace to the scene, a sense that this clockwork nightmare could spring to life at any moment.
“Wonderland’s idea of a factory,” Vulpes muttered under her breath. “Lovely.”
Her hand instinctively went to her utility belt, fingers brushing over its tools as she scanned the area. This was no ordinary illusion—it was Wonderland's twisted creation, blending the fantastical with the unsettling. Each gear and spark seemed designed not just to impress but to unnerve, as if Wonderland herself were watching, waiting to see how the Vulpes would navigate her next challenge.
Taking a slow breath to steady herself, the Vulpes stepped forward into the mechanical labyrinth, every sense on high alert. The air was thick with the scent of oil and metal, and the floor beneath her boots felt oddly warm, vibrating faintly with the hum of unseen machinery.
Her hand instinctively went to her utility belt, fingers brushing over her tools as she scanned the area. This was no ordinary illusion—it was Wonderland's twisted creation, blending the fantastical with the unsettling. Each gear and spark seemed designed not just to impress but to unnerve, as if Wonderland herself were watching, waiting to see how the Vulpes would navigate her next challenge.
Taking a slow breath to steady herself, the Vulpes stepped forward into the mechanical labyrinth, every sense on high alert. The air was thick with the scent of oil and metal, and the floor beneath her boots felt oddly warm, vibrating faintly with the hum of unseen machinery. Whatever this place was, it was another puzzle, and the Vulpes was determined to find its heart—and the answers she needed—before it found her.
***
Wonderland turned her attention back to Michael, whose body trembled as he sobbed, his panicked eyes fixed on what he believed to be a massive cobra coiled on his chest. “Oh, look at you,” Wonderland cooed mockingly, tilting her head in mock pity. “Poor, poor Blackguard. So helpless now. But don’t worry! It seems there’s a little fox scurrying about, trying to save you!” She clapped her hands together, her grin widening to a wicked crescent. “Oh no, no, no! We can’t let that happen! Not before the final act. Not before I show everyone what happens when you hurt our Alice!”
With a theatrical twirl, she turned away from Michael, her fingers dancing across the buttons on her mallet handle. Sparks and static flickered at its head as her voice turned sing-song. “But I’m nothing if not sporting. Let’s see if your little fox can keep up. I’ll give her a chance—a game! Oh, I do love games! Can she make it here before the white rabbit’s clock strikes the hour?” Her laughter rang out, echoing through the PA system as her malicious grin stretched impossibly wide.
***
The Vulpes moved cautiously through the surreal industrial labyrinth, each step measured against the shifting, clanking machinery around her. Her sensors mapped the environment, revealing a chaotic maze of heat signatures, erratic sound patterns, and unpredictable motion. The PA system crackled to life, and Wonderland’s voice filled the air, dripping with gleeful malice.
“Late! You’re late! For a very important date!” Wonderland sang. “I’ll give you until the clock strikes the hour true, and if you don’t stop me, Michael Macentyre is through!”
The Vulpes scowled beneath her mask, her hands tightening into fists. The taunt was meant to distract her, to shake her focus, but she wouldn’t let Wonderland’s madness get the better of her. She adjusted her helmet’s settings, trying to isolate sound distortions and filter through the cacophony of grinding gears and hissing steam.
The clinking of chains and the rhythmic ticking of an enormous clock echoed ominously above her. Wonderland wasn’t just setting a trap; she was playing a game, one that had no rules and only one outcome unless the Vulpes could turn the tables.
“Alright, Wonderland,” she muttered under her breath. “If you want to play games, let’s play.” With a steadying breath, she moved forward, her sharp eyes scanning for every detail, every potential clue, and every sign that time was running out.
The sudden movement sent Vulpes into a reflexive duck and roll, narrowly avoiding a massive clockwork arm that snapped at her with bone-crushing pincers. Her sensors confirmed it: this threat was no illusion, or if it was, it was real enough to kill her. She scrambled to her feet, her mind racing as more limbs descended from above, their movements deliberate and predatory.
It hit her like a bolt of realization—she was in the manufacturing wing of R&D. The illusions here weren’t simply hiding the truth; they were reimagining it. What looked like whimsical clockwork appendages in Wonderland’s twisted vision were, in reality, the advanced robotic arms and industrial tools used for production and prototyping. Now, under Wonderland’s control, they had been turned into deadly weapons.
The pincers snapped again, narrowly missing her as she darted sideways. Another arm lunged, ending in a plasma cutter that hissed as it sliced through the air, leaving a faint trail of glowing heat in its wake. A rivet gun fired with a deafening crack, the projectile embedding itself in the wall inches from her head.
“Damn it!” Vulpes hissed under her breath as she flipped behind a conveyor belt, momentarily shielding herself. “This isn’t you Alice!”
A grinding noise rumbled overhead, and she glanced up to see a limb with articulated fingers tipped with sparking electrodes lowering ominously. Her mind raced as she assessed her surroundings. The machines were relentless, but they were also predictable—programmed for precision and efficiency. If she could outthink Wonderland’s control of them, she might have a chance to get through this alive.
Vulpes pulled her last shock grenade from her belt, thumbing the activation switch. It wouldn’t disable everything in the facility—Wonderland had undoubtedly reinforced key systems—but it might buy her enough time to reach the other side of the room. She lobbed the device towards the center of the chaos, timing her throw to detonate just as several of the robotic arms converged on her position.
The grenade went off with a burst of crackling energy, and for a brief moment, the limbs froze, the hydraulic whine of their movements falling silent. Wasting no time, Vulpes sprinted across the room, ducking under still-twitching arms and leaping over conveyor belts.
As she moved, Wonderland’s voice echoed through the space, a singsong taunt carried on the distorted PA system.
“Run, little fox, run! But don’t forget—the clock is ticking, and I’ve always loved watching the seconds run out!”
The limbs began to reactivate, jerking back to life one by one, their deadly appendages snapping at her heels. Vulpes grit her teeth and pressed on, determined to reach the exit before Wonderland turned the entire manufacturing floor into her mechanical graveyard.
Vulpes had managed to buy herself precious seconds with the grenade, but those seconds were quickly ticking away. She threw herself into every motion, pushing her acrobatics and contortion skills to their absolute limit. A spinning blade screamed past her shoulder, close enough to cut a few strands of her hair. She twisted midair to avoid a steel hammer that slammed into the ground, sending vibrations through the floor.
A pneumatic hole punch hissed as it shot downward, narrowly missing her leg as she slid under a conveyor belt. She used the momentum to spring back to her feet, only to be met by an articulated arm tipped with a sparking welding torch. Ducking and rolling, she felt the heat of the tool searing the air above her, the smell of ionized metal filling her nostrils.
Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, but she forced herself to keep moving. The robotic arms seemed to anticipate her every move, adjusting their speed and angles as though Wonderland herself were orchestrating the attack.
“Keep running!” Wonderland’s voice chimed mockingly over the PA system. “You’re so very entertaining! But let’s see how much longer you can dance!”
Vulpes gritted her teeth, ignoring the taunts as her mind raced for a solution. The arms were fast—too fast for her to keep dodging forever. She needed to find a weak point in their programming, something she could exploit to slow them down.
Her eyes darted to the overhead tracks and gears that powered the arms, their mechanisms grinding relentlessly as they followed her every move. If she could damage the main track, she might disrupt the entire system.
Spotting a set of exposed gears above her, Vulpes reached into her utility belt and pulled out a small explosive charge. Timing her movements carefully, she leapt onto a conveyor belt, dodging another spinning blade, and launched herself upward, grabbing hold of a dangling pipe.
“Just a little closer,” she muttered, swinging herself toward the gears. A hammer slammed into the pipe behind her, nearly dislodging her, but she held on and flung the charge into the mechanism. Twisting mid-swing, she dropped back to the ground and took cover behind a steel support beam.
The explosion rocked the room, sending a shower of sparks and debris raining down. The grinding noise of the gears screeched to a halt, and several of the robotic arms froze in place, their power disrupted by the damage.
Vulpes didn’t wait to see how long the disruption would last. She sprinted toward the far end of the room, her path now slightly clearer, though a few of the arms still moved sluggishly, their motors straining against the partial shutdown.
As she approached the exit, she could hear Wonderland’s voice once more, this time tinged with a playful irritation.
“Oh, you clever little fox! But don’t think this game is over—it’s only just begun!”
The door loomed ahead, and Vulpes pushed herself harder, her every muscle screaming in protest. This had to end before the clock struck the hour and friend Alice Little or rather her alter the being known as Wonderland became a killer.
