Coraline blinked slowly, her eyes struggling to adjust as she woke from her nap. The sleep had been nowhere near long enough, and the fatigue that had driven her to collapse into her chair still clung to her like a heavy fog. She rubbed her temples, glancing at the clock on her desk. She had slept through a good portion of the afternoon, leaving her precious little time to tackle her ever-growing list of tasks. Still, the nap had been enough to restore just a sliver of her focus, and she needed every ounce of it to deal with Bianca’s strategy in the Agosta case.
The direction of the Ruso defense strategy seemed clear to Coraline—cloud the evidence, distract the jury, and sow just enough doubt to make the case wobble. Bianca’s cool, calculated demeanor hinted at a methodical dismantling of the prosecution’s foundation, brick by brick. Coraline’s role was equally clear: counter each of those moves with precision and keep the case on track toward conviction.
She leaned forward, opening her laptop and jotting down notes as her thoughts began to crystallize. Focus on the forensic evidence, she reminded herself. The defense might try to discredit it, but if they didn’t have hard proof to the contrary, that angle would only go so far. Witness testimonies were another potential battleground. Bianca might try to attack the credibility of the witnesses, which meant the prosecution needed to anticipate and preempt any attempts to discredit them.
She paused, her pen hovering over her notepad as her thoughts drifted back to Bianca herself. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about it. Coraline had to respect her skill, even if she despised the way she used it. Bianca’s ability to twist the narrative and redirect attention was unmatched, but Coraline knew she could beat her at her own game if she stayed sharp.
Her flip phone buzzed, breaking her train of thought. She opened the screen and glanced at it: a message from John.
John: You need to see this. ASAP.
A knot formed in Coraline’s stomach. John wasn’t one to overreact, but the urgency in his message was clear. She quickly typed back:
Coraline: What’s wrong?
His reply came almost instantly.
John: It’s the tech you found. It’s… not what we thought. Meet me at the Den when you can.
Coraline frowned, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. The stolen equipment had already been strange enough, but John’s reaction was unnerving. She shut her laptop and stood, brushing off her blazer. Whatever John had uncovered, it sounded big, and it wasn’t something she could afford to ignore.
Grabbing her bag, she headed for the door, already planning her route to the Den. The Agosta case would have to wait for the evening. Right now, she had a different kind of problem to deal with—one that sounded like it might be far more dangerous than anything she’d anticipated.
On her way out her phone buzzed again and she flipped it open expecting more from John only to see a text from someone else.
AliceINwonderland990: Hey Cora, me and Dora are going to Ultra Burger after work, you free to come slum it with us poor girls?
Coraline sighed softly, normally she'd jump at a chance to spend time with her friends and despite of the rich girl jokes she wasn't the sort to turn down good fast food and Ultra Burger was one of the best fast food chains in the world.
Coraline quickly typed back: Can't, huge case, burning the midnight oil, still up for Sunday with you and Martha!
AliceINwonderland990: Fine I guess Dorothy will just get first dibs on bag fries :P
Coraline smirked faintly at the reply, despite the exhaustion gnawing at her edges. Alice's playful jab was as familiar as it was endearing. She typed a quick response:
Coraline: Don’t tempt me with bag fries. Rain check, though—I’ll make it up to you both Sunday.
AliceINwonderland990: You’d better! Otherwise, Dorothy and I might just ‘accidentally’ have more fun without you. :D
Coraline chuckled softly, slipping her phone into her bag as she exited the office. Moments like this reminded her why she pushed herself so hard. The world outside her circle of close friends was ruthless, and the battles she fought every night as Vulpes only reinforced how rare and precious those friendships were.
Still, the text was a bittersweet reminder of what she was missing tonight. She loved Alice and Dorothy like sisters, and their grounding presence often felt like the only tether keeping her from burning out entirely. But tonight wasn’t a night for fast food and lighthearted banter; John’s ominous message made sure of that.
The crisp evening air hit her as she stepped outside, a welcome reprieve from the stale, over-conditioned office. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and quickened her pace. The streets of Toronto were bustling as usual, the hum of city life all around her. But in Coraline’s mind, the pieces of the puzzle were already falling into place—whatever the Rusos were doing with that strange tech, it wasn’t just the run of the mill criminal operation.
She slid into her car, her thoughts racing as she started the engine. The Den wasn’t far, but every minute between now and getting answers felt like an eternity. Whatever John had discovered, she had the sinking feeling it was about to make her already complicated life even messier.
***
Alice slipped her little sky-blue flip phone back into her bag, the device adorned with colorful stickers that spoke volumes about her personality. Cute, whimsical, and just a little nerdy. She knew most people might find the decorations childish, but Alice didn’t care—or at least, she tried not to. It was who she was, after all. A nerd, a geek, someone with quirks and hobbies that didn’t always fit the mold. Still, that didn’t mean the occasional judgment didn’t sting.
She glanced over at Dorothy and pouted. “That’s a no-go on both Martha and Coraline. Martha has some big charity thing, and Coraline is working on a big case.” She sighed, a small twinge of disappointment creeping in. She’d been hoping for a night with all her girls, a rare opportunity to just relax and let loose with the people she cared about most. But it wasn’t meant to be, and she’d have to make do with just Dorothy.
In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think about how things would change once she was married. Michael loved spoiling her, and she loved being spoiled. She wasn’t blind to how rare it was to find someone who genuinely adored her for all her quirks. Despite her shy and deeply introverted nature, Alice had discovered she liked being the center of his world. And she had no doubt that after their wedding, her free time would revolve almost entirely around him—not that she minded.
“Well, looks like it’s just the two of us,” Dorothy said, breaking Alice from her thoughts. “Guess we’ll have to figure out how to have fun without the rich kids.”
Alice managed a smile, small but genuine. “Yeah, I guess we will. What do you want to do?”
Dorothy shrugged, already grinning. “Well,we were thinking...burgers? Ultra Burger, maybe? Unless you’re feeling fancy, in which case I can offer you the fine cuisine of ‘whatever’s left in my fridge.’”
Alice chuckled. “Ultra Burger it is. But don’t think you’re getting all the bag fries just because Coraline’s not here.”
Dorothy laughed, grabbing her jacket. “Deal. Let’s go, then. I’m starving, and you look like you need to get out of your own head for a bit.”
“Don’t we both?” Alice muttered, though she appreciated the sentiment. As the two friends stepped out into the cool evening air, Alice felt a small flicker of gratitude. Sure, the night wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for, but spending it with Dorothy was still a comfort. Maybe it wasn’t the grand outing she’d imagined, but it was enough. For now.
As Alice kept pace with Dorothy, the voice in her mind lingered, quiet but insistent, like the whisper of an old wound reopening.
“You know, you shouldn’t let him control your life so much, Alice. He has you eating right out of the palm of his hand.”
The words echoed, sharp and pointed, striking nerves Alice thought she’d dulled years ago. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and carefully kept her expression neutral. Dorothy didn’t notice anything was amiss, chatting animatedly about the best Ultra Burger combos as they walked, but Alice’s focus was momentarily inward.
She answered the voice with practiced calm, though her grip on her bag tightened. “Thank you for your input, but I don’t need you. We went to therapy, remember? We understand each other now. You were there to protect me when I needed you, born out of a time when I was hurting and didn’t know how to defend myself. But things are different now. I’m different. I have friends, a career, and a fiancé who loves me. This isn’t high school anymore. People grow out of that kind of petty cruelty.”
The voice didn’t reply, but Alice could feel it retreating, leaving an almost imperceptible ache in its absence. It wasn’t gone—she doubted it ever would be—but at least it was quieter now. She let out a slow breath, relieved to have wrestled her thoughts back under control before Dorothy could notice anything unusual.
“Hey,” Dorothy said, snapping her fingers in front of Alice’s face. “Earth to Al. You okay?”
Alice blinked, offering a quick smile. “Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a second. Long day, you know?”
Dorothy studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair. But hey, you’ve got the night off now. And good burgers solve everything. It’s just science.”
Alice laughed softly, the sound easing some of the lingering tension. “Cheese burgers and fries. Can’t argue with that.”
The two continued on, the chill of the evening air biting at their cheeks, but Dorothy’s warmth and humor made it bearable. For Alice, moments like this were a reminder that even when old shadows tried to creep back in, she had light in her life to keep them at bay. And that was enough to keep her moving forward.
Ultra Burger, the fast-food chain started by a superhero, was legendary—especially here in Toronto, where its flagship location still stood. Dubbed Ultra Burger Prime by locals, the iconic eatery had evolved since its construction in the 1950s but still retained the retro charm of another time. Alice took it all in with a smirk, her eyes scanning the vibrant atmosphere as they stepped inside.
The restaurant was a sprawling homage to the golden age of superheroes, decked out in the purple and grey that had once adorned the costume of its founder: Toronto’s own Ultra Defender. Some said he wasn’t just one of Canada’s greatest heroes but one of its most beloved figures overall. His story was practically mythic—a physics professor exposed to the mysterious energies of an alien meteor, gaining the power to create forcefields with his mind. But it wasn’t just his heroics during World War II or his tireless work protecting civilians that cemented his place in history; it was also what he did after the war.
It wasn’t common knowledge, but the Ultra Defender had been a huge foodie. His passion for good, fast, affordable meals inspired him to use his personal fortune and endorsements to fund Ultra Burger—a quality fast-food chain built with the same ideals he championed as a hero. Ultra Burger became a sensation, a place where costumed crimefighters could grab a quick meal between missions and civilians could enjoy food with a side of superhero charm.
Here at Ultra Burger Prime, the legacy was celebrated with pride. The drive-in option, complete with servers in superhero-themed uniforms skating between cars, still operated alongside the indoor dining space. The walls were lined with autographed photos of supers who’d passed through over the decades, each image a testament to the restaurant’s cultural impact. A glass case displayed the cape of a retired Special, its fabric preserved as a relic of another era. The booths, the vibrant decor, and even the playful menu names all celebrated superhero culture in its heyday.
Alice couldn’t help but grin as she imagined a caped crusader rolling through the drive-thru in their jet-powered vehicle, grabbing a burger and fries before rushing off to save the day. The idea was more than amusing—it was historically accurate. Ultra Burger had always been a haven for heroes and hero enthusiasts alike.
“It’s like walking into a time capsule,” Alice said as she and Dorothy approached the counter. “You can almost hear the theme music playing in the background.”
Dorothy chuckled, gesturing to a photo of a hero in a gleaming metallic suit. “You think that guy ever used the drive-thru? Or did he just zap his food from the counter straight to his plate?”
Alice laughed, the stress of the day melting away as they joined the short line of customers. Moments like these—standing in a place so deeply rooted in history, laughing with a friend—reminded her why she loved this city. Superheroes weren’t just a part of Toronto’s skyline or crime statistics; they were part of its heart, its story. And places like Ultra Burger ensured those stories endured.
Ultra Burger prided itself on offering a menu that appealed to a variety of tastes, price ranges, and dining habits. That was good news for Alice, who’d never been a heavy eater. She lacked Dorothy’s seemingly bottomless metabolism and couldn’t pack away food like her friend. A Stellar-Burger Combo would suffice—a simple, single-patty smash burger, fries, and a drink. She doubted she’d finish all the fries; she rarely did. It seemed fitting, though, that the burger named after Stellar Man, the hero who arguably kicked off the age of costumed champions, was one of the simplest and most affordable items on the menu. There was something charming about its humble presentation—just a classic smash burger, no bells or whistles.
Alice appreciated the simplicity. She could never bring herself to order something like the Stupendous-Burger or the Towering Titan of Cheddar, towering monstrosities with multiple patties and enough cheese to clog arteries on sight. Dorothy, on the other hand, went all out, ordering a Champion-Chicken Sandwich with Power Rings (onion rings) and a Slam-Shake. The tray she carried to their booth looked almost comically overstuffed compared to Alice’s modest selection.
As they sat down, Alice raised an eyebrow at Dorothy’s heaping tray and quipped, “You know, Dorothy, someday your metabolism is going to give up, and everything you eat will go straight to your butt and hips.”
Dorothy shrugged, entirely unfazed, and popped an onion ring into her mouth. “Eh, like my dad always used to say, ‘Boys like it when there’s more meat in the stew.’”
Alice couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “That’s such a you thing to say.”
“What can I say? I’ve got priorities,” Dorothy replied with a grin, taking a triumphant bite of her sandwich.
They fell into easy conversation as they ate, the sounds of sizzling grills and cheerful chatter creating a warm backdrop. Alice couldn’t help but savor the moment. Between her demanding work and the increasingly rare opportunities to spend time with her friends, evenings like this felt more precious than ever. Dorothy’s lighthearted energy was contagious, and for a little while, Alice allowed herself to relax and enjoy the simple pleasure of good food and good company.
Though somewhere in the back of Alice's mind, a flicker of unease stirred. She hoped that voice—the other Alice, the Alice of Wonderland—wouldn’t show up again. That Alice was a part of her, a fragment of herself born during a darker time in her life. Therapy, reflection, and the support of her friends had helped her come to terms with that aspect of her mind, and for a while, she had thought they’d reached an understanding.
They were at peace now, or so she wanted to believe. Yet, hearing that voice earlier in the day had unsettled her. It wasn’t that the other Alice was malicious—she was protective in her own way, a shield formed out of pain and survival. But her presence carried a weight, a reminder of a part of herself Alice hoped she’d outgrown.
Alice took a sip of her soda, focusing on the fizzy sweetness to ground herself. Dorothy was rambling cheerfully about some upgrade she was working on for a drone prototype, her hands gesturing animatedly as she described the engineering process. Alice nodded along, letting the rhythm of Dorothy’s voice and the casual atmosphere of Ultra Burger pull her back into the moment.
The other Alice could wait, she told herself firmly. Right now, she was here—with Dorothy, with her friends, with her life. And for the time being, that was enough.
"Princess Ozma always did like her toys," the voice murmured, quiet and conversational, like a friend offering unsolicited advice. "You should live a little and try the hot sauce. Who knows how many chances you'll have before that ring turns into a ball and chain."
Alice froze for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly on her cup. It wasn’t loud or intrusive, more like a casual remark from across the table, but it was unmistakable. The other Alice. Her.
It had been years—three, maybe four—since she’d last heard from the other Alice. Hearing that voice again now, after all this time, sent a ripple of unease through her. But Alice knew better than to let it show. She took a steadying breath, forcing her face to remain neutral as Dorothy, oblivious to her internal struggle, continued describing her latest robotics project with animated enthusiasm.
Alice sipped her drink, focusing on the taste of the soda, the feel of the booth’s vinyl against her legs, the distant hum of conversation and clatter of trays around them. Ground yourself, she told herself. She wasn’t going to let this spiral into old patterns, wasn’t going to let the other Alice think it was time to take the wheel again.
She’d worked too hard for that. Therapy, self-reflection, her friends—all of it had helped her gain control, to understand that the other Alice wasn’t an enemy but a part of her, a product of her struggles and survival. Still, that didn’t mean she was ready to welcome the voice back with open arms.
It’s just stress, Alice told herself firmly, sipping her soda as she tried to drown out the echo of Alice's other voice. Project Wonderland was nearing its final stage—a monumental achievement that would put her years of hard work into the spotlight. She was getting married in the spring to a man who adored her, who treated her like the most important person in the world. Her life was taking big, exciting turns. It stood to reason that other Alice might be… concerned.
Concerned, yes. That was the way to think of it. Other Alice wasn’t a threat and had never really been one in any strict sense. She was just a voice that surfaced when the weight of everything got a little too heavy. A voice that had helped her through the loneliest and hardest times of her life, even if her methods had been… unconventional.
Alice took a deep breath and forced her shoulders to relax. The last thing she wanted was to overanalyze this, to let her anxiety trickle into something that wasn’t really there. Other Alice’s voice was a reminder, maybe even a warning, but not an alarm. Not yet.
Dorothy leaned forward, pulling Alice out of her thoughts with an exaggerated wave of her hand. “Earth to Alice? You’re zoning out again. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Alice said with a smile that she hoped looked more convincing than it felt. “Just a lot on my mind. You know how it is—work, wedding planning, the usual chaos.”
Dorothy gave Alice a reassuring smile, her hazel eyes soft with understanding. That was one of the many reasons Alice cherished her friendship with Dorothy—she didn’t just sympathize; she understood. Dorothy had her own struggles with mental health, and that gave her an empathy that went beyond words. Coraline and Martha were wonderful friends, always kind and supportive, but Dorothy knew the weight of an invisible burden in a way only someone who had carried it themselves could.
“You know,” Dorothy said, leaning back in her seat, “you don’t have to juggle everything perfectly. It’s okay to let a plate or two wobble. No one’s going to throw you in the penalty box for it.”
Alice chuckled lightly, though her grip on her soda tightened for a moment. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much happening all at once. And with Project Wonderland so close to launch, I feel like I can’t afford to let anything slip.”
Dorothy nodded, her expression calm but resolute. “You’ve done more than anyone could’ve expected already, Alice. You’re brilliant—like, ‘make-the-rest-of-us-feel-like-we’re-barely-keeping-up’ brilliant. But even geniuses need a break.”
Alice appreciated the sentiment, but a flicker of doubt crept into her thoughts. The perfectionist in her whispered that taking a break wasn’t an option—not now, not with so much on the line. But another part of her, quieter and softer, recognized the truth in Dorothy’s words.
She smiled faintly and took a sip of her drink. “Thanks, Dora, you always were good at reminding people where the yellow brick road was, I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good,” Dorothy said, smirking. “Now, stop thinking about work for two seconds and tell me: Have you decided on what flowers you’re using for the wedding yet! Though if i know you it's probably something blue!”
Alice rolled her eyes, grateful for the shift in conversation. “Am I truly that predictable?”
“Like the white rabbit's pocket watch...” quipped the quiet voice in the back of Alice's mind like an old friend jabbing at her with a joke to help ease her stress.
