With the story that had been weaved in the torn-up Wonderland having been forced to an end, and those whoâd been brought to the story world by the White Rabbit being returned their names along their way back to the outside world from whence theyâd come, a certain blonde haired young man found himself thrown back into the rather mundane life of a collage student. Radio blaring as he lay across his bed, textbook resting upon a pillow as he flipped through the pages. An interruption soon same however as there was a loud knocking upon his door, followed by the scolding voice of his mother as she complained about just how loud the music was while of course saying that he âbetter be studyingâ. Leaning up with a disgruntled expression he reached to turn off the radio, while muttering a bit of his frustration. âYouâre the one thatâs too loudâŚâ laying fully upon his side, Jack then resumed flipping through his book, airing a bit more of his current feelings. âShe oughta try only being able to say ten words over the span of ten years.â with that came a few moments of silence, before suddenly something jogged in his memory and he jolted somewhat upright. A soft sound leaving his lips before heâd jumped up and dashed down the stairs, past his questioning mother, and out the door.
There was a nagging feeling that he had to meet with someone, find them now that he was here⌠For a few moments it wasnât clear just who that someone was, so he simply ran down the sidewalk in the direction he was being pulled toward, heavy breaths moving through his lungs as he moved with all the speed that he was able. Closing in on large castle of a landmark, the young manâs feet didnât slow until heâd rounded an entryway, halting beneath the stone arch as he tried to catch his breath. He still lacked a proper name for the face that was now floating in his memory, but he hoped to spot it somewhere around here⌠However, that hope was seemingly dashed as he caught what was being said by a reporting standing a short distance away. âPlease see for yourselves.â she began. âThis is where the guillotine they used in those days stood. All that remains now is this stone monument.â with a slight pause, she then continued. âThe man who went around murdering fifty-one women in rapid succession on the outskirts of London vanished like smoke that night. However, for reasons unknown, he reappeared many months later, turned himself in to the authorities, and was executed on this very spot. His appearance and even real name are unknown to us, but we refer to him as Jack the Ripper to this dayââ
At that point his thoughts halted, no longer taking in anything more the woman went on to say. Instead the only thing that came through was the crushing thought that he wouldnât see the face heâd come here in search of, nor meet the friend that he was hoping to find⌠With only those sort of thoughts swirling about, tears soon joined the sweat that had dampened his face, as a wail soon left his throat, a sound which caused the reporter from before to jolt in surprise though Jack himself was too out of sorts to notice either action. Staring upward for just a few moments, the man then soon staggered back a couple steps from his previous stance of starting to step into the courtyard as the noise died out, hidden within the arch once more as he then crumpled to the ground with further tears wetting the ground beneath him. However, perhaps things werenât truthfully as hopeless as they seemed⌠For given the torn-up state of Wonderland before their departure, perhaps it was possible that some sort of flaw had occurred along the way in the return trip.
A pounding headache assaulted the mind of this man as he woke in an unfamiliar place. He was lain on the ground and couldnât remember a single thing. For now, that is. As he thought, he became more aware of things, and the further he dug in his mind, the more things had started to come back to him. He could remember that he was... A pretty wealthy man. But if that was so, why was he here? The idea of his habits at the casino explained this away and he gave a laugh with that, thinking maybe that was why he was here. Even as he was thinking of this, he remembered all of those women. He was a murderer. He enjoyed it. But now... The thought was met with disdain. The color red twisted his gut. it was all slowly flowing back into his mind as he lay there. How he wanted to die, Wonderland. His cards... Jack.
Jack. His Ace of Hearts and Jack of Hearts in one. He had a hard time trying to remember his face, but the complicated feelings he had for him easily got him to sit up. The idea of liking a man seemed all too new to him once more, but he knew he loved that man. Jack... If that was even his real name. What was his name? They never really knew each otherâs name, did they? Thatâs right... But regardless, he also felt his heavy guilt. Everything heâs done... He deserved to pay. And even if he did suddenly remember him, there was likely no way that they were going to see each other again.
The nameless man got to his feet then, dusting his suit before making his way out of the building. He planned on turning himself in. But he was quickly met with a world unknown to him. Things seemed really different all around him as he looked around. He was given odd stares as he walked out of what seemed to have been a building forgotten to time. But what he found the oddest was everyoneâs form of dress. He was giving those odd looks in return to them, but he couldnât let himself be swayed too much. Maybe he was absent for a long time. Time was odd in Wonderland after all. But his feet were carrying him on a somewhat still familiar road at least. And he ended up here. The place where he would be turning himself in. However... Even here seemed to have changed. And by the sounds of it, guillotines werenât even a thing that was used here anymore by the lady with a strange black stick speaking into another contraption that kind of looked like a huge camera.
Hearing her speak about the stone drew his attention to it and he stepped closer, looking upon the stone with a blank expression. Someone turned themselves in as him so long ago, apparently. His sentence was taken by someone else and he was sent here. Wherever here was. He reached a hand out toward the stone just before he heard a sudden wail in a familiar tone of voice. It even startled him, but his eyes shot toward the noise at the retreating figure. He watched as the blonde man dropped to his knees in the shadows, his brows creasing as he stared at the spectacle for a while. Was that Jack? Was he here too? He didnât want to risk embarrassing himself, but he couldnât stop the urge to approach, his steps slowly coming closer before halting at the quivering figure by his feet. â...Jack?â the question came out, almost expressing concern, but it wasnât exactly all there. Signature Queen.
