They were sitting by a fire in the mid of the dead forest. According to the cat, if Rocket wanted to get out safely, they must move when all else is ‘recharging’. And that was when darkness takes over the land.

So here they were, two figures by a campfire sharing warmth as they waited for night to arrive. After their brawl earlier, none of them spoke a word to each other. Rocket was still fed up from his defeat and the cat simply had nothing to respond to.

Rocket was between the roots of an overgrown tree, throwing tinder just as the flames were about to go out. Across him was the peculiar cat sitting on air, compelled by the fire. His purr kept the silence broken and Rocket couldn’t help but let out rude comments about it.

“Hey smug-face,” Rocket called, “Do you have a name?”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do,”

“Then I’m no different.”

Rocket sighed, “I’m asking for your name, you idiot.”

The cat snorted, “Then ask properly. I don’t go by implications. It’s Cheshire if you must know… at least, that’s who I’m supposed to be.”

Rocket was confused for a moment, “Who you’re supposed to be? What the hell does that mean?”

“This world is much more peculiar than I am,” Cheshire said and waved the topic off with a question. “And your name?”

Rocket thought for a while before he realized that he was getting lost in space, “It’s Rocket.” The feline chortled, almost sounding like a snort and Rocket wasn’t just about to let the pass. “Does my name sound funny to you?”

“Oh no,” Cheshire giggled, looking at Rocket playfully. “I just had a thought…”

“You’re disgusting,” Rocket said and poked the flames with a stick, “Do you listen to yourself?”

“Not often. It’s not every day I meet such a fine specimen with an interesting attitude I could talk to.”

“You find my attitude interesting? That’s hilarious,” Rocket faked a laugh and threw the stick he used to poke in the burning bunch. “Well that’s enough formalities. I don’t want to get too involved. Let’s just focus on getting my ship back so I could be on my way.”

“Agreed,” Cheshire replied, “When I return, we’ll move out. Collect your strength for now.”

Rocket opened his mouth to ask where Cheshire was going but he evaporated before Rocket could say anything. He was alone just as he wanted but he couldn’t deny the discomfort solitude offered him.

***

The dead forest wasn’t just an ocean of ashen trees and a flood of mist. In the right direction, there was actually a path that branched out to different places. And there were signs that told which path goes where.

At the very far left, there was a sign that read, “Marmoreal,” the palace of the white queen. In the middle, was a sign scribbled with “Jabberwocky,” in a hasty font. There was another sign that read, “Tweedles,” and just beside it was the sign that read, “The March Hare and the Mad Hatter.”

Although Cheshire had lived in the dead forest for years, he had to rely on the signs if he wanted to go somewhere since the place is always shifting. The forest was built to be a maze—always changing.

He took the route to the March Hare and the Mad Hatter, paying a little visit to old friends.

There was a melody of whistling kettles in various pitches just as the aroma of different teas was brewing all together. The sound of creaking clockwork could be heard a mile away and Cheshire could only guess that his friend, the Hatter, might have forgotten to oil his joints again.

The tea party was festive all hours of the day—a never ending celebration of unbirthdays but of course that was just a façade to cover up the mad reality they were all living in. They were assigned roles where in which characters cannot be broken. Resistance to such was met with cruel retribution.

Cheshire was the only one to ever disobey Alice’s law and he was wanted all throughout the kingdom. He was lucky that he had the ability to disappear otherwise his head would have long been floating in the red queen’s pool. Not everything, however, was in his favor. His power was very unstable and it endangers his life as well as those around him which is why he periodically visits the Mad Hatter for some repairs.

He materialized before the cream gate of the Mad Hatter’s tea party, withered over the years. A vine of thorns and ivy braided all over the wooden fence, devoured by moss. From there, he landed on the ground and made his way by foot to the forced celebration of unbirthdays.

There was a cloud of steam collecting just above head that emanated from the boiling pots and kettles. The long oaken table, where which everything was placed, was concealed by a greyish cloth, overlapping on the dirty ground. The chairs were frail with paint that chipped off and had parts taken from planks and sticks.

The mad trio sang “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat,” their voices—hoarse and forced. Cheshire approached in small steps, pity overriding him. Just near enough, the smallest figure was the first to notice him.

“Chess!” a dormouse greeted Cheshire’s arrival. He scurried on his metallic limbs and stopped before the blue feline, scanning him with his cybernetic eye to make sure that it was really his friend. When everything seemed in favor, he jumped from the table and on to Cheshire’s shoulder.

“How’s it going, Mallymkun?” Cheshire greeted in return.

“Gradually being driven mad,” the dormouse chuckled. “Unstable again, are we?” Mallymkun went to Cheshire’s back and zipped his suit halfway down. He examined the radiators bulging out of Cheshire’s back which was responsible for his ability to float and evaporate. Thereafter gave no comments—at least no life threatening comments.

“T’lil cat’s back, heh-heh-heh,” the March hare threw a spoon at Cheshire which Cheshire evaded with ease. He trembled as if he had an overdose of energy albeit that was just the manifestation of madness working its way little by little. “One o’these days,” the hare said and stared in space, “The celebrations would stop.”

And the last to greet Cheshire was the Mad Hatter. At the edge of the long table seated the cyborg whose tech seemed like that of clockwork. His limbs were metallic, always creaking with clogs exposed turning each other in the recesses of a second. “It’s been long, Chess,” he said without looking to his direction., hiding away his eyes that were but scanners. “Too long…” he added, “I thought that you were gone completely.”

Cheshire sighed and took a seat across the mad hatter on the long table. “Well that was the original plan. Go far away and then evaporate completely. It’s tiring living this fiction, you all know that.”

“Aye…” the Hatter said in a low tone like he hid something. He wasn’t his usual self after all. The Mad Hatter’s spirit was unbroken but now, he was shattered. “What changed your mind?” he added in a moment.

Cheshire heaved in a deep breath and traced his claw on the table. It wasn’t apparent since he was made to smile forever but inside, he was frowning. “A fellow from Halfworld…” Cheshire mumbled.

“Halfworld?” Mallymkun was shocked. They were detached from reality for as long as they were trapped and they were forbidden to speak of the world above which is why a sample from reality was a sweet treat. It eased them from their madness knowing that they still exist. “Did Alice take another…” Mallymkun trailed off.

“No,” Cheshire interjected, “Heavens, no. He got lost and is seeking my help to return.”

“Why’re you ‘ere then y’lil tyke?” the March Hare threw another silverware at Cheshire. “Helpin’ a bosom when y’can’t ‘elp ye’self…heh-heh-heh…”

Cheshire ignored the March Hare. “It’s been long since you stabilized me, Hatter,” Cheshire said, “and I fear that I might go off while I’m with Rocket.”

“Rocket?” the Hatter coughed the name.

“It’s… what the lost one calls his self,” Cheshire explained and went to his purpose of visiting, “I just hope you could fix me to stay solid just until I could help him out of here.”

The Mad Hatter had his eyes on the table the whole time they spoke but after everything, he finally looked at Cheshire, “You would undergo your greatest fear—your trauma for that fellow you just met?”

“Aye…” Cheshire swallowed. He paused for a minute, fighting the hesitation in his idea. “I will be doing it for all of you. Hatter, I…” there was a lump in his throat that made it difficult to speak but he kept on swallowing until it went away, “I want you to turn me into a bomb.”

Mallymkun was the first to react, protesting Cheshire’s idea. “Chess, what are you thinking? You can’t suddenly just appear after a long time and then ask for something so absurd!”

“That’s all I’ve done most of my life, I’m afraid,” Cheshire remarked. He was already smiling but he smiled even further for his little friend. “Mally,” Cheshire rubbed the cheek of the dormouse with the tip of his claw, “It’s the only way all of you could be free from Alice… for this tea party to finally end… for the red queen to be free from executing everyone… for every one of us imprisoned here to follow our own will.”

“It’s a ridiculous idea,” Hatter said monotonously.

“You and I both know that’s not true, Hatter,” Cheshire said, “Besides, I’m planning on going out anyway so why not just let me go fulfilling a purpose? Alice depraved us of any tech that could rival hers. Even if we all turn against her, she’ll wipe us all out. With me, however, it’s a different story.”

“You mean…” Mallymkun pointed to the bulging metals in Cheshire’s back.

“Yes, yes. Increase the radius of influence and everything in my diameter would be vaporized. Even the most indestructible metal.”

“The tea party…” the March Hare was quivering, “will end?” he pulled his ears down.

“Aye, it will.”

“But Chess…” Mally was tripping on his own voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to get back up there?” Cheshire took Mallymkun on top of his hand, “Riding in a ship, exploring different planets, becoming a bounty hunter?”

The dormouse sniffled.

The Mad Hatter cleared an area on the long table and took out his toolbox. “All these years I thought you were selfish,” his voice remained stoic, “Always saving your own skin, disappearing in danger’s wake… but now… you’re going to free us all.”

Cheshire gently placed Mallymkun back on the table. He slipped his shoulders off his suit and lied on the cleared area.

“I’ve always do hated blades…” he remarked, “Whenever I see it, I am reminded of the parts broken and put back together… the pain those from Halfworld all share.”

“Chess…” the Hatter said, “I truly am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cheshire closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Miles away from the tea party, back to the path where the signs were displayed was a cacophony of agonizing cries.