The Painted Woman

February 15, 1865: (Personal): Gray Ringmarc has finally talked me into following him on a lead. He said, he knows a couple of gentlemen that may know a thing or two about Black Market trading and expo. I'm reluctant to follow my cook's advice, even more so with leaving the tower alone to Nightmare. Nightmare has insured me that he would be able to handle himself and Vivaldi while I'm away. I assume this is a better alternative than sitting around and waiting for a miracle. Or let the police handle business when they can barely handle their own.

The Golden Cage was an old building that's been rebuilt twice. It was first established as an old lodge that rented out rooms to weary travelers that braved the streets of Flooded District in 1845, then the building burnt to the ground. Its been said, that an estranged wife caught wind of her husband cheating in this lodge and burnt the establishment, with him in it.

The reopening of The Golden Cage was around the time Gowland opened up The Flooded District Pub in 1860. The building was then deemed fit as a brothel for Politicians to escape political mudslinging; away from prying eyes of reporters. This benefited wealthy landowners, and dukes that sank into the sin of flesh and bashful perfumes.

The Golden Cat was under rule from the notorious "Madams" oddly enough, these particular Madams were not women, but men who ran the shabby and pink whorehouse. A couple of twins that fared in their early thirties, with bright red hair and single blood eyes to complement their disarray of living. Rumor was, one twin caught an intriguing plague when he was young and it led to the blinding and hollowing of his eye; the sickness simply ate away and rotted the cornea. The other brother took notice to his twin's distress and decided to gouge his own eye out to match his brother's; the act was more out of pity, so the other brother wouldn't down himself over his misfortune.

Many people, as well as the whores that worked in The Golden Cage, have entertained the idea that these men were not right in the head, and never have been right to begin with. They'll play tricks on their girls, belittle their betters. If a client didn't have the coin to fancy them, or if the client assumed it was proper to harm one of their girls, then that client was as good as dead under the roof of The Golden Cage. You either left relieved, or pulled out in the streets in an old wine barrel. Of course, these accusations were inspired by the fabled minds of streetwalkers, and common urchin trash that lounged about gutters.

These "Madams" or "Old Gents" went by the names of Black and White. Their parents were illiterate, except for the mother who could only spell out colors, and considered it fine to name her offspring after negative spectrums; she was just seventeen when she gave birth to the twins and died in the process of gutting out the last twin from her body. The father was left to raise the two boys alone. But their father was a drunk that had penchant for beating his children when he stumbled in from the pubs; their father was only pleasant when he hadn't had a drop of the Devil's water.

"What can I do for you today?" White, the more civil twin, beamed behind the counter of the establishment, idly thumbing through the painted pornography that came in with today's shipment; a token to pass out to gentlemen callers when they asked for a particular girl by name. White may have been the more polite brother, but his actions denied so. He was considered the more despicable being out of the litter.

"What do ye think? Bloody Fool. Men can't seem to keep their own hands off their balls. They come slumping it here instead. Tch." Black rounded the hall that connected and flowed out to the lobby of the building, his knuckle tapping the counter of his brothers'. Black may speak with vile intent, oddly enough, he was the most honest and trustworthy one of the brothers. When the courtesans were in trouble, and knew it, they'd seek out Black's help before even informing White; he had a brutal way of punishing his subordinates.

"They do not seem like our regulars, brother." White kept true to his trademark smile, folding his fingers so he could rest his chin among his propped up hands. "Not that we're complaining about new money. Just that – old money seems to keep the business going." White chuckled fondly over Julius and Gray.

"We have no intentions in paying for pleasure." Gray quirked, a frown evident among his pale features. Gray was uncomfortable about being in this environment. The idea of soliciting women out seemed – dishonest. A complete sham among the female form.

"Information would better suit our taste." Julius added.

"Listen here, bloody wanker, we abide by a strict rule of client confidentiality. If ye have something up with one of those backstabbin' son of bitches up stairs, then I'd say ready a gun. And keep the blood off my girls." Black chided. Crossing his arms dully and leaning his weight against his brother's counter.

"Not from a politician. We've been looking for you. We heard around that you'd be someone to go to for black market trading – human trafficking." Julius spoke slowly. Julius's voice alone still angered Black, and the man scoffed over the audacity of this man.

"Me? Ah, yes. We run a bloody brothel, which means we pluck urchin tarts from the streets to sell to sick pricks that can't get a little somethin' from their misses at home. That sums up our work ethic. I have to applaud you for ye fine work, Mister -" Black spat sarcastically.

"– Monrey. Doctor Monrey of Clover Tower Psychiatric Center." Julius then motioned to Gray. "And this is Gray Ringmarc, my assistant."

"What's a doctor doing in the Flooded District anyways?" White humored the heated conversation, "And a brothel, no less."

"I've lost a patient. A Miss Alice Liddell." Julius answered; he kept true to his posture, even over the bickering brothers that shifted their odd eyes to each other. One brother would keep his stoic approach while the other bloomed into a smile.

"You don't say? Thee Alice Liddell?" White gushed, almost laughing out loud over the situation. "Aye, aye, Good Doctor. I may know your little tart. Though, it'd be the company she keeps that should worry you."

"Company?" Gray's eyes widened and he quickly looked to Julius.

"Aye. That boy - Ace? Ace, yes, that's his name. Came in here raving about some girl he knew. Apparently, she's a pretty little thing. Real weak. From what I heard, of course. Just last night a Mister Blood Dupre and Eliot March came storming in here asking if I've seen this same girl – much like you." White's crimson iris was full of mirth, like he enjoyed painting his tale. "They said they lost her. Worried sick. Said somethin' about going to your tower to ask you personally. But that Ace kid, came in here hours ago to ask for extra bedding for a lady-friend. Dragged that little girl Alice right in here with him." White's eye narrowed, but his grin held true and stuck permanent; his features were jarring.

"Did Alice – say anything?" Julius had to keep his voice steady. He was colored shocked, and it seemed so unsettling.

"The poor lamb looked tired. Lethargic. I offered Ace to leave the girl here, so that one of my girls could bathe and dress her properly." White finally shrugged. "But that boy declined, and said he was returning her to his dwellings. I – may know something." White quickly shot his brother, Black, a sly look.

"Like?" Julius pressed on.

Black interrupted his brother with a chuckle, "Old warehouse. Head East from the Flooded District. Can't miss it. The boy use to come in here to bother me. Told me about his – hobbies. I didn't believe him, but hell."

-x-

"Come on, Alice, take your clothes off. You'll catch a cold." Ace smiled down at the young maiden who shivered under his tulip-colored vex. He dawned pure terror upon her features, but he took no heed when he began pushing down the sleeves of her dress, and fiddling with the strings of her corset that held her tiny body.

Alice wanted to cry. She wanted to shout. But all that would hear her pleas, would be the vacant walls of thick concrete that surround her. This idea mocked her, and she wanted to know what was held behind the thick iron door that riddled locks and chains; she believed freedom. "Please, Ace. I thought we were going home."

"And a promise well-kept, dear Alice! Welcome home!" Ace grinned hard. He leaned forward to peck his lips against her forehead. Alice's cheeks burned over body heat and rage and utter sorrow. "But I can't have you – tainted if you want to go further into your new home. So, please, Alice. Take off your clothes." His voice dropped a few octaves. His crimson eyes stained her very mind when he looked down and raked over her body once. His gloved hands were becoming bothersome, troubling, and Alice thrashed against his grasp.

Still, Ace would chuckle and he would fuss over her clothing. He began to talk slower to her, his face nuzzling against the crook of her now bare neck.

A monster lives in his eyes. Shining rubies that are beautiful and alluring. Alice is quick to move away, but his hand is tight against her body and he finally manages to remove the articles of clothing from her body; her dress bunches at the ankle of her boots and her corset is undone and unjust. Her skin is virgin-white against the oil lamp that illuminates against the dark corners of the cell that Ace dragged her in. Her eyes are dull like a night sky, after it has drunk from the oceans for so long. "Please, Ace." Alice murmurs in defeat and she's repulsed by her indecency, but she has no time to ponder over her modesty when a madman watches her through the thick engulfing darkness. Alice wishes to plead more, but her voice is swallowed by void, and the way daring eyes watch her; caudle her. And so she cries.

"Why – are you crying, dear Alice?" His gloved fingers trace down her bare arms, and Alice desperately tries to wipe the existences from her waterfall-tinted eyes. Ace's features distort, and he seems like an innocent boy again, begging for attention from a mother. "Don't cry, Alice. I'm here and I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever. Knights' promise." And so the deranged man promised. But did he figure it was him, that's been hurting her? Frightening her. Daunting her with his blood-soaked gaze. Probably not. Madmen seem to believe they're doing the world good in their waterwheel turning minds.

Ace's head tilts and he leads a single gloved hand to cradle the side of her jaw tenderly, guiding her to look up at him. He'd gently smile, but Alice only sobs more. Her hands cross over her chest to hide her shame. The lunatic slowly moves into her space, nuzzling his forehead gently against hers; he attempts in subsiding her bleeding voice; the same voice that smothers the darkness of his mind. "We will get you washed up and into new clothes. I picked up some today. Remember?" Still, Alice does not answer him and can only retort to her sickness, curling and thinking of her little space in Clover Tower; at first, she doesn't even think about her home in Oxford. Alice misses Vivaldi's complaints, Nightmare's troubled sleeping, Gray's horrible cooking, and Julius's advice that rings in her ears.

Ace's fingers begin to map out a course of her body, tendrils of tiny movements that run down the flat of her stomach. Round fingers loop about her garter belt, tugging the cloth down along with her stockings that are connected. Her hands shove against his chest, but he still manages to finally remove her boots along with her attire, while slipping the stockings down.

No one would have guessed that Ace, before his brain fevers caught up with him, before madness took its first bite into the back of his cerebellum, and before he heard the whispers from doors and from space; he was a reasonable man that was raised in the back-alleys of The Flooded District. He even gained entry into the King's Royal Guard once he hit proper age of recruitment. Still, madness waits for no man and was discharged from the program over dishonorable conduct. Ace returned to his peddling days, waiting for prey; he also worked several mills to make a shilling or two.

He has a habit for killing people who threaten to leave him. He has an unusual hate for these types of people. He can't stand abandonment. He hasn't been the same since he was that ten-year old boy, practically begging for his mother not to leave him. The last thing he remembered from his youth, was his mother's parting words as she drifted off into death, "How about another whiskey for Mum?" He remembered smuggling whiskey for his mother; something to ease the pain when her bones didn't sit right.

"Ace –"Alice reasons with herself, her voice finally basking in a rush of confidence. Even if she's completely bare to the elements around her, she'll choke under her unruly voice. "– Ace, you don't have to do this. I won't tell anyone what happened here. You and I can walk together to the tower. I'll be with you every step of the way to get you help." Oh, and how Ace smiled at the idea of being together. At least she didn't damper the mood by saying leave her alone. Alice is practically grasping at straw and doesn't fight against the roaming gloved-fingers. Still, her gut turns and she wants to heave over the scare.

Her words are enough to cease his mischief and his eyes widen to her broken-china voice.

"You'll turn a man's head with such talk, Miss Liddell. Always so kind. So beautiful." The man lightly chuckles against her skin. He presses her naked form against his clothed body and out of reflex, Alice grips to the oversized, and damaged coat that surrounds his bulky form; the leather of his gloves dig into the small of her back. He's simply hugging her fragile shape, and he closes his eyes over the sweet proximity of her body. "I –"Ace swallows, "- I can't kill you." Of course he couldn't kill her. He's heard and felt her heart rush over the excitement; she's different from all those women that he's slain in the past. She's frozen under his words. She's shaken by his nature. He just admitted he was going to kill her, but fell back on plan because she spoke a few kind words.

Alice is quiet, stunned into silence. She lets Ace finish whatever he wants. Gives him all the time in the world. "Let's – get you cleaned up. Let's get you dressed. I'll send you back to the doctor." Ace has no idea why he's snapped, or the reason behind rejecting his original plan. Perhaps it was the idea that Alice didn't fight against his words, or the way she promised to never leave him alone.

He never shows her his collection of bodies that waited locked under key. Behind that iron door riddled in locks and chains.

-x-

Pierce Villiers digs away at the earth and toils the soil from underneath his stained boots. Dreamily, he'd lean into the shovel and stare off into space, his mind wrapped in a peculiar void that he hasn't quite shaken off yet with the cold weather.

"Aye, boy. Come here." Blood steps into the canvas of the graveyard, hauling another briefcase that has yet been damaged by the contents on the inside of the case; blood was sure to seep and ruin the interior, but today the hatter was lucky.

"Sir?" Pierce's green eyes widen to his boss that drags in the case closer and closer to the already hollowed out hole of the earth. The young man wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, this only leads to caking his brow with mud. "Somethin' I can do for ya?" Pierce's voice is meek, but riddled in his inquisitive nature; he tilts his head in the quizzical fashion.

"Something that you missed." Blood frowns. He sets the briefcase down and kicks it to the side with his fine dress shoes, then he pats his strained hands on his pants, ridding any grime that graced his tailor-made clothing. "We can't have this misplaced. You should know better, boy." Blood's eyes narrow at the lad with the shovel. Pierce is quick to nod his head.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Pierce lays his shovel out and pulls at the suitcase in great haste. The boy is quick to rid evidence of Hatter business. This young man was the best in the business in hiding parts that should not be floating down the harbor of Flooded District. "Ah!" Pierce's voice rings out and just before Blood could turn on heel, the boy calls out to him.

"Sir! I forgot to notarize you about a guest. An unusual guest, that pass two hours prior." The boy talks while pulling the handle of the case, dragging it to the shallow grave and placing the briefcase in the hole with care.

"Ah? Enlighten me." Blood humors the boy. His voice laced in ill-natures.

"A Mister Peter White of the Metropolitan. He came askin' me about your interest. Basically, uninteresting topics, but something that I should inform you about, boss." The young man holds his breath for a second, eyed down by a complex blue.

"And what did you tell our police friend?" Blood cracks a smile, his arms crossing behind his back without a care.

"Well – he was askin' if I saw some tart wanderin' the streets at night. I told him only the girls that I see walkin' live at the Hatters, upstairs. Then he asked your whereabouts. I answered truthfully, like you always told me to be. I told him, that you were out for the evening with Mister March." Pierce hummed for a minute, thinking back on the conversation. "He said he wanted to have a look around the Hatters. I said it wasn't my place to decide, and that I should consult you beforehand." Pierce patted down his coat pockets, "Ah! And Doctor Monrey came by hours ago to give you the letters your sister wrote. I kept them safe, of course."

The gravedigger brimmed and smiled hard when he handed the wrinkled envelopes to his boss. "Beside that sir, nothin' has caught my fancy, nor any concern to be mentioned."

"Very well. Thank you." Blood simply states before leaving his gravedigger's presences.

-x-

"Don't be afraid Alice. I didn't go back on my word. Come now." Alice was finally allowed to clean herself off after trekking through the Flooded District. River-crust caked her boots, and stained the hem of her dress. But she finally found the time to rewrite the wrong and prepared herself presentable when she'd be allowed back at the Tower.

The girl was hesitant, weary of the man who murmured her demise. But she wasn't stupid. She knew if you pushed a man hard enough, he will avert to his primal need of domination. So, the young maiden played it collectively, and faked a dawning smile to the madman that guided her out of the warehouse. She placed her hand within his large hand and he led her into the sunshine,, basking in the warm rays.

"Miss Liddell!" Just as the door opened to reveal the world. Gray was the first to come hauling into her, his hands latching on to her arms. Gently, he checked the girl over, tilting her one way to another, his rough hands gripping at the furs that covered her bare arms. "We – I," Gray takes in a great deal of breath, and he hugged Alice to his chest, "You're okay? Right? No one touched you. No harm done, correct? Did anyone talk to you unkind? Are you ill -" He held her close to his chest, and all the air from Alice left her system when she settled against him. "It does not matter. You are okay. You will be fine."

Gray peeks over Alice's head and his eyes narrowed at the madman behind Alice. "Hello, Guv'nor. Wasn't expecting a little party." Ace beamed and Gray frowned hard at his ridicules existence. "All is fine and dandy. I was just about to take the little miss home."

Alice makes no need to move, but Gray pulls her back to study the expression painted oddly on Alice's features. She'd glance to the side, not matching up to Gray's doubtful glare, solemnly she stood in wait. "Alice –"

"I just want to go home." She cuts the cook off.

"Miss Liddell, you caused a bit of ruckus over your disappearance." Julius drew near. Alice shifted away from Gray and nodded off on an apology.

"In all respect…I am sorry." The girl murmurs, still thinking about the events that unfolded ten minutes prior. She has been spooked. It was something she wasn't comprehending. Still, Alice walked up to Julius and the man stilled when her eyes caught up with him.

"Not your fault, Alice. Now –"Julius clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, "are you ready to go home? I can only imagine you're exhausted from your journey. You don't have to explain anything now, but I'd like to brief you – on what may have happened these past two days. Reasonably, Miss Liddell, I was incredibly worried about you."

Finally, Alice caught up with herself and she was fast to latch her arms around Julius's waist. The woman snapped, and she cried into the doctor's chest. This sign of affection was off to Julius. He's only listened to problems, not address them in a touchy way. The notion seemed so foreign. "I don't want to leave you. I don't want –"She has trouble forming her words. Gray frowns with reasonable concern. Ace stands and watches, he's intrigued by his doctor's stance, and so he glowers his menacing grin; a tad innocent and blanketed so well.

Still, Julius hugged her back. Awkwardly patting her back.

-x-

Black and White Joker: Just a couple of guys that run a whore house. I hope to apply them more to the story later on. Black may say mean shit to his girls, secretly he cares for them. White - is just a scary guy. (White was the one who got sick in the first place. After losing his eye, Black removed his own eye, so his brother wouldn't use that as a crutch.)

Pierce Villiers: In charge of hiding the Hatters' dirty work. Hides bodies much like his original role in the stories.

Ace: I had to put something for Ace. He cares for Alice, but he's still a nutcase that could actually kill her one day. Even if I won't allow it… Ace will be a huge factor in this story and I'm sure the epilogue to this tale will straighten everything out.

Hello Guv'nor: Slang from lower class addressing higher class.

Warning: I'm considering on bumping this story to mature audience… Probably around in two chapters. Still gotta' build up that romance.

A little Trivia: We all knew that Julius represents time in the Alice in Wonderland series books. Apparently, in the story, The Mad Hatter kills time at a singing party in the Queen of Heart's Castle. As punishment for the murder, he along with the March Hare and The Dormouse is cursed to always be in Tea Time. Like Afternoonish – or whatever. I don't know about that, I just thought it was weirdly mentioned when I was brushing up on the story.