Chapter Text
February 16th, 1984. 9:47 PM.
‘Dear Diary…’
“No, that sounds way too cheesy..” Denis mumbles, scratching the words out of her book. The younger woman was hunched over a worn book she had before the infection even began. Black bangs covering her face along with the darkness of the night, hiding the thoughtful- crazed expression she wore. Only the small oil-lamp at her side lit up the area and even then, it wasn’t that much brighter than a torch.
Her mind filled with haze and unbearable noise as she was tormented over all the recent events that had taken place over the past year. The graphite tip continued flying across the paper, leaving behind deep dents and gray smudged markings.
“Still writing those entries? How do you even have time to write all of them while we are on the run?” A warm female voice mutters behind her, a familiar tone along with light amusement and curiosity coating it.
Denis looks up, the fog in her mind lifting slowly and her expression softening as she realizes it was just her long- time partner and friend, Chica. The half human half robot looked down at her with a certain look in her eyes, one that showed concern at her state.
“Well, we did have some time to rest.” The younger woman shrugs, closing the thick book with a loud clap. She could write more later, it was time to cherish the time she spent with friends at this moment. Who knows if they could be taken away soon? “Besides, I’m a fast writer- it’s why our colleagues at the precinct always went to me for reports and paperwork. The journal entries are also not finished. Those are just the small snippets.”
Her partner only hummed in amusement, swiping the book from Denis’s grasps. “It’s more of a surprise that you remembered that much to write this.” Chica’s fingers rub against the pages, taking great care in not crinkling the delicate paper filled with valuable knowledge and memories. There were also decently drawn pictures of the locations and people taped to the paper on the sides along with clippings of notes written by other people, aged polaroid photos and more notes.
“How long did all of this take you again?” She asked, flipping through the many written pages.
Denis shrugs, leaning back against the cold pipe behind her, awareness of her surroundings slowly came back to her. It also helped hearing a familiar voice grounded her even more to reality. As she blinks, Denis recognizes the building they were in. The Lucella Police Department. One where she used to work with Chica before the world went to shit.
The sight and nostalgia hurt to think about. Biting, cruel, shredding her heart like a cheese grater into many pieces. It was even harder to swallow that everything they had before will never be the same even if the cure made its way all over the world.
“Maybe an hour or two. I wanted to make these records perfect- or decently close to what actually happened. I didn’t want to mistake an event or two, that could possibly change the whole narrative and ruin everything, y’know…” She trailed off, her mind wandering once more over fond memories. The strong scent of rot and metal wafted through the air, bringing back some very bad-no good memories.
The good times. The bad times. It was worth taking a step back from constantly moving forward and basking in the past. It was much harder now to determine which is real and fake due to the unforeseen presence of an outsider- one who can influence minds.
Chica laughs, closing the book herself and handing it back to her friend. “Well, then best get to it. We have a long journey ahead of us in getting this cure everywhere. I did hear of a newly formed community, with the help of the military we gave the cure to… I think it was called The Capitol. ”
And didn't that name make her mind perk. It was ominous enough on its own, and if there was one thing that Denis has learned over the years of service and survival, it was that names held power and status.
“Where did you hear that from?” The former-detective asked, looking up with curiosity. The cyborg only looked back with hidden glee, and it was only years of working with Chica that Denis knew that glimmer in the cyborg’s eyes. A shine that told Denis she wouldn't spill all the information she has.
“Figure it out, detective. Don't tell me your skills have worn down with the lack of work.” Chica teases lightly.
Denis chuckles sarcastically, not minding that jab aimed at her. “Haha, very funny.”
“Well, if you must know, they explicitly mentioned it on the helicopter trip. Not sure how you missed such crucial information, detective.”
“Oh, please. I was tired. Being thrown and tossed around in your own mind like a salad will do that to you.”
Their conversation slowly disappeared as silence took over the room. An ice cold atmosphere plunged and settled in, removing any trace of the warm conversation that took place just mere moments ago.
God, it had been a year since the infection started. The former-detective realized, the weight of that thought settling and adding more weariness to their bones.
Everyday was getting heavier to carry all that weight and the emotions that are packed into it. She could feel it starting to slowly build and getting ready to burst at the weak seams.
Denis reaches her hand up, her head tilting back and hitting the pipe as she stared up at the dirty ceiling, one that was in desperate need of repair and cleaning. “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if the infection never started? What if we tried harder to keep everyone alive? Stop Danny from becoming infected, trading places with Zizzy so she wouldn't have suffered… Or like, what if we manage to save our friends or loved ones in time- making sure they survived throughout this whole bizarre ordeal.-”
Chica blinks at the onslaught of questions and the amount of guilt and bargaining sown into those words. “Whoa, calm down there-”
“I mean, why didn't we know about this sort of stuff being made in our city that we were supposed to protect?!” She continues, unintentionally ignoring her friend. Her voice cracks and frays with hysteria and doubt, blown wide eyes as she clutches her hair tightly, nails digging into the scalp while her other hand rests above her badge. “Why couldn't they just not rush the cure for Ms. P-”
“Calm down!” Chica yells, her demanding tone drowning out Denis’s panicked one. The cyborg could already see the haze glazing over the younger woman’s eyes, how her pupils dilate more and more lately. “Look, there was no way we could’ve done anything else with how this all sprung up on us. You knew what happened to Danny, you can’t blame your body for being tired in the first place.”
“Then there was Bea. She already sustained injuries from an infected before we ever met her and drank that supposed ‘cure’. We couldn’t do anything there even if we wanted to. And don’t get me started on that idea of trading places with Zizzy. How would you even manage to convince Willow to take you instead of her and we also who infected Zizzy. How are you going to fight off Poley long enough for us to come and rescue you? And don’t give me that bullshit of being able to hold your ground. He’s known in the precinct to be able to hold himself in a fist fight despite his age. If I can’t hold my own against him then you definitely can’t. Also he's like 7' feet, ain't no way you're winning a fight aginst him.” Chica continues listing out, frowning as she crosses her arms with a low mechanical whizz.
Denis laughs bitterly, roughly wiping away the newly-formed tears in her eyes that had yet to fall with her dark blue sleeves. She felt much better now that her worries were squashed out one by one.
"I could try."
"You would definitely get crushed in the first ten seconds."
"Ouch, do you not have any faith in me my dearest friend?"
"... okay, maybe you would tear some flesh and draw blood in that fight."
Once upon a time, she would've found and told you how much she hated the design of the LCPD’s uniform. How it would rub against her skin in the worst ways possible, making her body feel all itchy all over. How the tie felt tight and restricting, that it was hard to breathe in the damn thing. Don't even get her started on the summer’s heat.
Now… now, she wore that uniform like a twisted badge of honor. A testament that stood against the test of time and everything the world threw at her. A remembrance of the normal and peaceful pastime. The only thing that proved she was once a part of the LCPD.
(Or maybe that memory was also fabricated by the man from the beyond. Who knows at this point and wasn't that a scary thought.)
“They may say and see me as an optimist, but I'm a pessimist at heart. What’s a better way of not drowning your hope than by thinking of every bad situation possible?”
“Now that's pushing it a bit too far. Have some hope for the future. It still isn’t clear yet if the light at the end of the tunnel is dark.”
“Well, I can certainly guess what it will be.” Denis adds, stressing out as she shoves her head into the palm of her hands. Her eyes shake wildly at the mere thought of it. But she just couldn't stop thinking of terrible outcomes that could happen. “Arghh- we should've made more of the cure. What if the military backstabs all of us and keeps the cure hidden away and never distributes it to the infected in Evalia ? What if it's a way for them to maintain power over the remaining survivors- dangling false hope over our heads? What if TIO was telling the truth in that messed up dreamscape?-”
“Alright, that's enough imagination for one day.” Chica finally says, putting her foot down metaphorically. It was definitely not a pretty sight to watch a friend spiral over all these ‘what ifs’. Her normal right eye scans the surroundings in case an infected takes this moment of weakness as an opportunity to jump on them.
Sure it would be useless but she would rather not test the limits of their immune system. Plus, getting attacked didn’t hurt any less than normal.
“... are you staying?” Denis asks hesitantly, changing the topics easily.
“I am. There needs to be someone to look after your reckless ass. Who knows if an infected will just sneak up on you?”
“Fair point, but you might want to sit down. This might take me a while.”
“I have all the time in the world.” Chica hums, leaning her back against the same wall as Denis and letting her body slide down. “It's not like we have anything much to do besides survival.”
Denis ponders for a moment, her mind racing once again with vestiges of past memories- once that always seem to come back and haunt her. She wonders if the other officer had to deal with it. The past moves further and further away, with no signs of stopping or slowing anytime soon. The station had been like a second home to her considering the amount of time she had spent there.
“Sorry for unloading all of that on you.” The younger woman sheepishly apologizes, rubbing the back of her head.
“Better than keeping it all in.” Was all that Chica replied before focusing on observing her surroundings for potential dangers.
Denis opens her journal, with the graphite tip digging into the paper with a start. There was only so much time she had left before both of them had to meet back up with the Safe Place group despite her friend’s words.
So, with a determination to finish what she started, she began writing:
‘To anyone reading this… Let me tell you our journeys into the new world…’
February 16th, 1983. 7:16 PM.
The station that was usually bustling with noise and action such as reports being filed, new cases being taken on and criminals being put away behind bars- it was all in a day's work of being a Police in Lucella. However, it was a different tale at night. Officers with the night shift replaced the ones with the morning shift, always having a much more quiet and peaceful time.
“Hello Danny. Why are you still here? Isn’t it your day off?” Denis asked, carrying a stack of paper.
The officer looked up at her from a report, out of his usual uniform and in a purple hoodie with black pants. He was clearly fitted for a rest day. “Oh, just finishing some things in here so it won’t bother me later.” He waved off, setting a messy clipboard down on his table. “And what about you? Anything interesting happening yet in your shift?”
“Not really, unless you count the case Chief Leon assigned to me.” She says, smiling as she sets the stack down on his table. “It’s a missing case of a boy named Georgie. Me and Chica will be visiting the Piggy residence later to investigate more on the case.”
“That late? Well, good luck with that.” Danny adds, “By the way, where is she?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe fixing her arm? It has been having problems with it lately. I heard she installed a new feature into her arm.” Denis mentions with a grin, unable to hide the humor she finds in her words. There was something she knew that Danny didn’t in her sentence.
Danny only raises his eyebrows at the secrecy presented to him. He intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on his fingers. “Are these new features going to be a danger to us all?” He asks with a grin of his own, unable to hide his fondness for his only human friends.
“I don’t think so? It depends on how she uses it I guess.”
“And that isn’t concerning to you?”
“I doubt Chica will misuse it… maybe.”
“I’m going to ignore that last word.” Danny sighs, tilting his head to the side. The smile never fades from his face. “Want to hear more things happening in the department?”
“Ooh.” She giggles, looking around before leaning forward and bringing her hand up to hide the side of her face. “Late night gossip?”
“Something like that.” He grinned back at his younger friend. “Share some in return?”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
If Denis had dog ears, they would be perked up at the moment they had been given. “Deal.” She agrees, nodding as her smile widens with glee.
Time flew by fast, with both of them exchanging rumors or tales they had seen or heard in their time working in the station. It was nice. Probably not the best time spent but in her own opinion, it was the most fun she had that day. And she could tell Danny was also having a good time from the way his bushy tail was wagging behind his back.
“Did you know Lieutenant Poley was assigned to protect a pie from thieves?” Danny asked with a sly smile. Amusement clearly written into his question and expression.
“No way.” Denis gasps, a hand over her mouth as she looks at with disbelief and curiosity. “You mean our senior officer who could hold himself against half of the department in a hand-to-hand? That Lieutenant Poley?”
“Yeah, he was not happy to learn what he had to guard. If he wasn't known to be so calm I would've thought he would've blown a fuse. I sure know I would've.”
“Whew.” She whistled quietly, “How special was this pie that an officer had to guard it?”
Danny shrugs, “I don't know. Looks and sounds like a pie you would normally get from a bakery. I overheard it had lasers and everything.”
“Wow. That's some commitment in protecting food, maybe a bit overkill though.”
“See, I wasn't the only one thinking that way.”
“Ah, it's getting late. I better get prepared for that visit.” The detective bids her farewell for that night as she realizes the amount of time that had passed. “I’ll see you around. When you're back maybe I’ll get you some donuts.”
“I look forward to it. Stay safe.” Danny replies, turning back to focus on his work.
Denis picks back up the stack and wanders off to her desk. She glances at the little trinkets decorating her desk to make it feel more lively and personalized. A small photo frame of her and her friend in their home country years ago before being transferred to Lucella Police Department. A small blue cup filled with a multitude of pens, pencils and markers. Alongside it was a desk lamp sitting on top of more stacks of papers and files.
Her train of thoughts were interrupted when Chica called out for her, the other officer peeking behind the wooden door frame. “Hey Denis. Ready to set off?”
“Give me a moment.” She calls back, pulling out a worn satchel from her desk drawers and filling it with her things. Her green headphones that had rabbit ears attached, an orange beanie, a thick journal and a file. “Whose car are we taking by the way?”
“Mine. I swear you and your car have issues.” Chica complains, walking towards the station's garage.
Denis whines and follows the older woman as she slings the bag over her shoulder. “What do you mean ‘me and my car’ have ‘issues’?” She asked in an insulted tone.
The cyborg turns around and gives her friend a deadpan stare. “Must I list out all the reasons?”
“Try it, I dare you.”
“May 23rd, 1978.”
“...”
“That's what I thought.”
“Yeesh, you're no fun.”
“And I would like to keep my sanity intact along with my life. Forgive me for trying to prioritize my safety.”
‘That day was shaping up to be a normal one. A daily routine of sorts. Me and Chica would go visit the residence and gather information on the missing boy, afterwards we would go around the neighborhood and city looking for more clues.’
‘Maybe if we have time, we both would've gotten some food while keeping a look out if we were needed in any more situations. I’m rambling at this point but it stands that it was supposed to be a routine at this point.’
‘So how were we supposed to expect that everything would change so drastically?’
-Dee