The Wonderland Syndicate
They make a habit out of ruining lives.
The Wonderland Syndicate: Alice “Alie” Montgomery, Ramona Singh, Roxie "Roxy" Blackwood ... This trio of teenage misfits operates out of Oakhaven, Indiana (Pop. 2,400) in 1947. To the town, they are just rebellious greaser girls and a quiet schoolgirl. To the local banks and corrupt sheriffs, they are an unstoppable, ghostly crime wave.
Alie is seventeen, with bounce-curled blonde hair held back by a blue velvet ribbon, and she always wears pristine pinafore dresses that look straight out of a fairy tale. She can shrink herself or any object down to pocket-size, or warp the space inside a room. She can make a massive bank vault door thin as paper, or slip inside a locked jewelry box.
Ramona is an eighteen-year-old first-generation Punjabi-American who rejects the era's feminine norms. She wears grease-stained denim dungarees, a chopped faux-hawk haircut, and an oxidized silver nose ring smuggled from her grandmother’s collection. The muscle. Ramona can rip the doors off armored transport trucks with her bare hands and loves leaving a trail of smashed police cruisers in her wake.
Roxie can melt completely into shadows, travel through dark corners unseen, and project terrifying, solid illusions out of the darkness to blind or petrify guards. The phantom stealth expert. Roxy cuts the power lines, slips past the guards undetected, and secures their escape routes under total cover of darkness.
They look like an impossible error in the textbook of 1947 Americana: a picture-perfect, blonde schoolgirl in a blue velvet ribbon flanked by two leather-jacketed, punk-styled rebels who refuse to bow to the decade's rules. But the real danger isn't their defiant fashion—it is the terrifying, impossible secrets humming beneath their skin.
While the quiet town of Oakhaven gossips about their bad attitudes, this super-powered trio is busy tearing the Midwest apart, turning bank vaults into pocket-sized toys, shrugging off police gunfire like raindrops, and vanishing into the shadows before the sirens can even start to wail.
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