Epilogue: Another World Awaits...

DING-DONG.

The ringing of the doorbell of Wayne Manor alerted Alfred Pennyworth: respectable butler, former military doctor, oldest friend and mentor of Bruce Wayne, and one of the few people to know the true identity of Batman. It had been almost four hours since the arrest of the Mad Hatter and the Wonderland Gang, and his "master" had yet to leave the Batcave since he had come back home. The tall, lean, moustached man looked up sharply from the sink, where he'd been taking care of the dishes.

Another ring sounded. Alfred glanced up at the clock on the wall.

It's three o'clock in the morning! Who could be at the door?

Another knock. With a soft sigh, Alfred dried his hands and headed for the door.

Ms. Gordon, I'm sure...or, perhaps, Master Tim...well, not likely Master Tim, not after tonight's caper...Master Dick, maybe...?

Alfred opened the door.

A man, the same height as he was, and of similar build, stood before him on the porch. He wore a light gray trenchcoat and a matching fedora, pulled down to keep the drizzling rain out of his face. His hands were gloved, and he wore gray trousers and black shoes. He had a thin, almost penciled-on moustache and a short nose. His eyes were hidden by his collar and hat.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Maybe yes...maybe no," said the stranger in a silky, husky voice. "Am I in the presence of Alfred Pennyworth, butler of Bruce Wayne?"

"You are."

"Delightful. Is Mr. Wayne at home?"

"He is."

"In that case, may I see him?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid not. Mr. Wayne is preoccupied at the moment."

"Ah. Going over the night's strange events in his fabulous Batcave, I presume?"

A tense pause. The stranger smiled at the stunned look on the butler's face.

"You know..."

"I know all too well, and a great deal more. Fear not: Bruce's secret is safe with me."

"...Who are you?"

"A friend who should not be a friend at all."

"Beg pardon?"

"Never mind, man. I'm here for only one reason, and one reason only."

"What's that then?" Alfred said, preparing to shut the door and run to the kitchen for a knife, if necessary.

"I have a message for Batsy. Please, give him this..."

He handed Alfred a small box.

"And tell him to open it, and inspect its contents. Also give him this..."

Another box, slightly wider and longer than the first, but flatter in depth.

"And instruct him to open it only after inspecting the contents of the first package."

"What name am I to give?"

"That is not important. My name is contained in the first package...and don't open it, Pennyworth," the man added, his voice suddenly an inhuman growl. "Trust me, I'll know. What is contained in these boxes is for Batman, and Bruce Wayne, alone...unless he – or they, as the case seems to be – decides to show you, for whatever reason. Otherwise..."

The man trailed off, his smile becoming ever more terrifying.

"Very well," Alfred said, trying very hard – and succeeding – at keeping his composure. "If that is all..."

"It is. Goodnight, sir."

The man turned to leave. He took a step, and then turned back.

Alfred glimpsed a pair of glowing yellow eyes.

"Actually, there is one last thing..."

"What?"

"Well...they say that haste makes waste, and thus I rarely hurry. However, if a mouse were about to dart up my trousers..."

Alarmed, the butler looked down.

When he looked back up, the yellow-eyed man in the coat was gone.

Alfred shook his head, confused, and went down to the Batcave, tucking a small butter knife in his pockets, just in case, beforehand.

In the bowels of the Batcave, seated at the enormous supercomputer known as the Batcomputer, Bruce Wayne sat, cape and cowl removed but still wearing his tights, utility belt, boots, and gloves, staring at a small photograph in a wooden frame.

A small boy and his parents, all dressed in their Sunday best, riding the Mad Teacups ride at Walt Disney World, were visible in the picture.

Alfred approached.

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce looked up, somewhat startled.

"Hm? Oh, yes, Alfred?"

"A man came by, and asked that I give these to you."

He handed Bruce the boxes.

"He asked me to tell you, too, that you are not to open the flatter and wider of these boxes until after you inspected the contents of the smaller and deeper box."

Bruce nodded and placed the boxes beside him.

"Thank you, Alfred," he said, a small, ironic, wry smirk on his face.

Then he stopped moving when he saw the expression on Alfred's face.

"What is it?"

"He knew who you were, sir."

"Alfred, a lot of people..."

He stopped again.

"Oh..."

He hurriedly pounced on the boxes.

"I'll head back upstairs, sir."

"Yes, Alfred. Keep your eyes open."

Alfred shuddered.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know anyone with yellow eyes?"

"...I don't think so."

"Well...he had yellow eyes."

A pause.

"Goodnight, Master Bruce."

"Goodnight, Alfred."

Bruce paused as Alfred left, the information of the eyes beginning to play on his uncertainty.

Finally, slowly, he opened the first box...

In it was a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll. Batman stared at the cover for a long while: the Mad Hatter, dressed in a blue suit and polka-dotted bow tie, his hat shiny and black, danced on top of the tea table. Meanwhile, the White Rabbit and Alice took their tea, watching him in amusement. The background depicted a forest of pink mushrooms and green grass. A small piece of paper was seen, sticking out between pages 66 and 67 of the first book...the scene where Alice encountered the Cheshire Cat.

He pulled the piece of paper out. It was folded into eighths, and on it was written, "To Batman."

He unfolded the paper, and read the letter inside. His eyes grew wider and wider with every word...

Dear Bruce,

This is, first, to inform you that my smile is now much more genuine. All is as it should be: the Gnomes are free and few, the Jabberwock and his owner are no more, the Hatter, March Hare, and Dormouse are having their endless tea party, as they ought, and Rabbit has returned, and is still having punctuality problems. And Alice? Alice is back, whole, alive, safe, and sound, and Hatter has never been a more Frabjous fellow. Unfortunately, none of us will ever be able to forget the atrocities that have befallen our once celestial realm; Tetch and the Knave have left quite a mark.

This brings me to my second, and primary, purpose for this note. You may recall the hypothesis Caterpillar told you about? It is, in fact, a sort of unknown LAW. When Charles Dodgson (Mr. Lewis Carroll to you and me) created Wonderland, he had no idea what an effect it would have on your world and its people. When he died, our world fell under the control of Alice Liddell, the inspiration for the story. Since that time, our world has fallen under the control of many, many people, a few of which you just might have heard of: Walt Disney, for example, and Frank Beddor...and Jervis Tetch. Under Tetch's unconscious control, we fell into complete and total disarray. I will not hesitate to tell you, in fact, that all you saw was the tip of the incomprehensible iceberg of horrors we experienced in that purgatory of blood, wheels, and smoke.

With the death of the Knave of Hearts, you have freed us from Tetch's control...I don't know quite how, but you have, and all is well. But Wonderland must always have a controller...and we have chosen one.

You.

You are in charge of our world now, Bruce Wayne. We are eternally grateful to you, and forever in your debt. And, for the record, you will always hold a special place inside of me. Namely, my heart...and if, for whatever reason, things ever get that bad again, possibly my stomach.

I remain, Batsy, yours,

Cheshire C., esq.

Batman dropped the letter to the ground.

It wasn't a dream at all...

Slowly, his eyes travelled to the second box. On it was a piece of paper reading, In case you need us, or visa-versa. W. Rabbit.

He grabbed it, almost eagerly, and opened it up, finding himself strangely afraid of what he would find...

Inside was a handheld looking-glass.