Chapter Text
The shrill ring of a phone alarm echoes through the room and attacks Bive's ears. It makes her wearily wake up, prying her eyes open after a rough night’s sleep. In retaliation, she smacks aimlessly around the area the sound was coming from until she grabs her phone. The alarm stops, she glares at the time, rubbing her eyes. 6 am was what her phone said. On a Monday. This could only mean one thing for the self-appointed detective, she had to prepare to go to her actual job. A loud and pained groan escapes her mouth as she drags herself up from her wooden desk.
She had forgotten to go to bed last night, again. Insomnia was just one of the many battles she had to face. This time what kept her up was a new lost media case she stumbled upon, a sci-fi film from the late 90s. Decent progress was made on online forums, but not enough to satiate her personal curiosity. Consequently, this led to a PC being left with hundreds of tabs open, and running overnight. This was not good for the computer, or the electricity bill. She grumbled to herself as she went to shut the computer down.
Now, Bive has to officially start her day, with a brand new morning routine imposed on her by her employer, and so-called “comrade”, Wallter. This meant that… despite Bive's best wishes…, she had to… shower. It’s not like she wanted to, her incredibly poor mental health had already deemed it an inconvenience. But her job is being a barista which entails having to serve people their coffee. And Wallter said “If you ever come in here smelling like a fridge’s worth of rotten food again, you will be fired on the spot.” Apparently smelling like you’ve not showered for weeks, because you haven't, was off-putting to customers.
Upon rushing out the shower to dry herself she gets changed as usual, opting for her favourite loose shirt and the baggy jeans with the absurd amount of pockets. Stuffing her bag with the essentials like her trusty notebook and pen, phone, charger, earphones and anything else that made sense for her to bring according to her paranoia. Each time this’d lead to an eclectic assortment of items that’d only ever get to see the bottom of her bag for the whole day.
As she traversed her messy studio apartment packed to the brim with clutter she preferred not to step on, she ensured to grab her helmet on the way to the front door. She was perfectly fine with riding a bike, she rode it to work and back every day, but it was more so the people and the cars she had to drive by on her way. What if they pushed her over? What if they throw something at her head while she’s unaware? They were something she most definitely couldn’t trust.
Today, the street seemed quieter than usual, unlike the off chance she’d have to stop cycling to manoeuvre through the stampeding crowds of people, the pavements she’d ride on were clear. The soft ricochet of the light rain on the ground and the harmonic buzz of cars that drove past were the few audible noises around. It allowed her to fully relax and reflect. This Monday wasn’t like any other Monday. In fact, it marked the anniversary of when she finally escaped from the lab.
Now she wasn’t in a rush the implications of that began to hit her. It had been years since she had to spend a second of her life being experimented on. She was likely truly free and yet she still felt anxious every day. So many sleepless nights in fear of being vulnerable. So many things she could never try or do in fear of being put in danger.
It made her remember when she first met Wallter. At the time, both of them were in not so favourable situations. Wallter had divorced recently leading him to be fully on his own for the first time in years and Bive was struggling to adapt to the completely different world she found herself in, with essentially no guidance. But the fact they even managed to become friends became even more surprising considering how they met.
That night wasn’t really all that eventful for either of them. Bive had escaped a few months ago and managed to create some form of shelter for herself in the quiet town she ended up in. A collection of things that peaked her curiosity and she used to try to help understand the world surrounding her. Sure, most of these things were stolen, but they had better use in her hands.
It was far more secure too. Anything that she saw could be some government device! A secret contraption designed to entrap her and drag her right back to the lab. Nothing would slip past Bive. This was why most of her day and most of her night would be spent looking around the city, taking anything new that she had yet to deconstruct to make sure she would remain one step ahead.
She came across something new that day, and two new people she had yet to observe from afar. Both outside a store she wasn’t familiar with either, named “The Floppy Shoppy”. First, she could see a dark grey CRT with a bright blue screen. She rolled out the front door on her TV stand; the wheels rattled when moving over the pavement. Her face and demeanour felt very relaxed. She was seemingly not a government official, however, that is exactly what they’d want you to think.
The woman waved at a long black car that had just parked right in front of her. Out came an abnormally tall man that looked to be made entirely of concrete. He was donned in a true blue scarf with the rest of his clothing being varying shades of grey. Could the blue and grey mean something? It couldn’t be a strange coincidence, right? Her train of thought was broken when the tall one began to communicate.
“My apologies for this delivery taking so much time, Scag.” was what he said.
“Don’t worry Wally, It's alrightcore. I know you've been busypilled. Thanks for your helpmaxxing!”
What. This was a language Bive could understand and yet she was still confused. Was this purposeful? A code?
“Of course, it's been no problem. This has been helpful to take my mind off of things. So, how have you been keeping up? I hope the store appeals to your tastes.” He finished his words in a confident tone.
The tall one was talking like a government official, with a funny accent and all.
“Oh it’s PEAKCORE! I actually have space to move around now and there’s even MORE shelves for my floppy disks!”
“I’m quite surprised that they sell. Haven’t they been outdated for a while now?”
“Nope. They’re actually my best selling item!”
People buying things they have absolutely no need or use for? Could this be… a government scheme? An anomalous item bending people’s minds? What reason could these people be buying these floppy disks for? She had to have a closer look.
Whilst they caught up on each other’s days and recent events, she slowly crept over to the vehicle that the man crawled out of, and glared into the window to get a view of the items harboured in the backseat. It was just a pile of floppy disks. A worrying amount if you asked her. However, this was ideal. It surely wouldn’t be noticeable if she opened the currently unlocked car door and took a medium sized amount of disks to observe and experiment on. To search for anything incriminating, of course.
Wallter and Scag’s conversation would continue as normal until, in the corner of Scag’s eye, she saw what appeared to be a shadow slowly shifting into shapes on the other side of Wallter’s car. She kept talking but that seemed like an issue.
“What are you looking at?” Wallter asked with concern, noticing her eyes were fixated on something.
He turned his head around to see what bewildered Scag.
“Uh, excuse me?” His voice was loud enough for it to slice through Bive's ears, alerting her to dart her head up.
The three all stared at each other, all with shocked looks, unnerved and unmoving. Silence frolicked in the air. Maybe they just needed a moment to process the situation?
Bive started running before that could happen.
Alarmingly quickly too. This was about the second fastest speed she had run in her whole life. The first being her actually running for her life.
“HEY! GET BACK HERE!” Wallter shouted out in vain.
He chased after her but, despite being faster, he ended up completely losing her when he turned around the corner. Even after he scanned the area left and right. From then on, the rest of his night was spent searching for a woman in a detective coat running around with an abundant amount of almost obsolete hardware.
Through mazes of buildings and towers, streets and roads in a concrete jungle, his searches led to one wide but quiet alleyway. Quiet, except for the rustle of a 5”9 hair monster tinkering away, hiding behind the dumpsters.
She took a moment to quadruple check the outsides of the disk, flipping it back and forth with shaken hands. From the looks of it, safe. Nothing’s exploded yet. So, here came the fun part, ripping it open. With two hands, she clasped either end and proceeded to slowly bend. Right before the big snap, she could feel a tap on her shoulder.
“Excuse me, Ma’am?” Wallter asked in an unreasonably polite manner.
Bive darted her head back and stared into his soul. He tried to stay calm until he realised what she was about to break.
“No, don’t break that!” He blurted out as he snatched the disk out of her hands, praying that it wasn’t too damaged.
Bive proceeded to huddle around the rest of the pile she took and glared back at him before she spoke.
“You can’t take these! YOU can’t be trusted.”
“Miss, I assure you, my only intentions are returning these disks to the rightful owner.”
“And to be used for what? Secret government ESPIONAGE? Nice try.
…
“What?”
“DON’T act stupid, I can SEE through your lies VERY clearly.”
“I’m only an architect? I don’t work for the government. Well, partially, but not like that.” He said, chuckling slightly at the absurdity of the claim.
Still, Bive doubled down and scooted away from Wallter again.
“You aren’t getting these until I KNOW what they’re being used for.”
“Oh, that’s it? These are floppy disks, they’re only for storage.”
“And storing WHAT exactly?”
“Well, anything! People buy them and use them for storing computer files. We can show you at the store if you’d like.”
Bive narrowed her eyes; She was still weary. The stranger was, surprisingly, nice, but being trustworthy was an entirely separate ordeal. Could he really be telling the truth?
Before she could make her mind up, the faint sound of wheels rolling on rocky floors became loud enough to be picked up by her. That girl from before, Scag, had caught up to them and was up ahead at the alleyway’s entry.
“There you are! Looking for you has NOT been funcore. …Is that the stealmaxxer?” She sounded relieved, but out of breath.
“Yes. This all just appears to be a misunderstanding.” He replied, then focusing on Bive. “Could you please return these back to us now?”
Bive relented and shoved the disks in front of Wallter, letting the whole thing go. She didn’t lock eyes with him anymore but the interaction continued.
“Oh thank goodness.” Wallter muttered under his breath, not having to keep his composure anymore. “Thank you, uh, I believe we haven’t been properly introduced to each other yet. My name is Wallter. That’s spelt with two Ls.”
“And I’m Scag!” She said loudly. She was much closer now, right behind Wallter.
“Oh, I figured that out already but-“
“That’s totally not creepycore-” Scag mentioned, interrupting her.
“I am Bive.” She paused before continuing with her questions. “So you two run that “Floppy Shoppy” place, right?”
“Well, actually it’s Scag’s! I just enjoy providing assistance when needed and looking around the place because, believe it or not, I actually designed it! And it’s a fine example of my work as an architect-“
“Yeah, me and Wallter cook meth in there.” The awkward silence after that was painful, but she continued anyways. “My middle name is Jesse by the way.”
Wallter shoots her an extremely disappointed look.
She’s made this joke before, Wallter didn’t find it funny the first time.
“What, I’m slash jay dude.”
He groans, his agony becoming very clear.
“Scag and I are just saying that it would be nice for you to stop by our store sometime and take a look around.” He said with a warm expression on his face.
Though it would be a while before she accepted the offer, she would eventually come around and step inside just to satiate her curiosity. And then she would visit again. Before long, she was a regular patron of the store, coming back everyday. Sure, it was mostly interrogating Scag and Wallter just to make sure they weren’t spies of some kind, but that did lessen with time.
In fact, she became close enough to them that she could let them in on a few of her theories! Did they believe those theories? No, but they let Bive ramble anyway. Though for Scag she listened because it made work days less boring whilst Wallter would listen more so out of concern for her well-being.
Things would stay the same for months right up to the moment where the friendship became strong enough for Bive to willingly enter Wallter’s abode. It would be a long while before she’d tell him where she lived but she at least trusted that his house wasn’t some sort of death trap. A place where she could “make herself at home”.
She took that quite literally, doing exactly what she would do if she were at her house in the morning. Brewing herself a hot cup of coffee. Since she found sleeping at night could sometimes be out of the question, she had to find some way of keeping herself going, so every other morning was spent brewing an unhealthy amount of coffee to drink.
Wallter would come back downstairs and enter the kitchen and be greeted with the scents that he’d expect in a cafe, not his house! It was a surprise to see Bive with her face a little too close to the pot, staring at her drink like she was crafting a potion.
“Oh, that smells wonderful, Bive! Could you pour a cup for me?” He asked with a whimsical tune to his voice.
“SURE, just give me a sec!” She yelled back, already pouring one for herself.
She walked over to the living room, both mugs in her trembling hands. She performed a balancing act making sure nothing spilled as she went over to where Wallter was seated.
He took the mug out of her hands and immediately brought the drink to his face. Softly blowing cool air before sipping.
“This coffee is splendid! Could you always make it this well?”
“Why of COURSE.” She said before taking a sip. “However, this is not my best. It could maybe do with some mold.”
Wallter slowly inches his cup away from his face upon hearing the last word, “mold”.
“Oh, that’s not-“
“What? It’s perfectly fine in small amounts!”
“Please don’t drink mold, friend.”
Later on, Wallter had brought up that he wanted to start a business, a coffee shop, and that it would be perfect for her to work there. And from that day forth, Bive was now a barista and began working as soon as the shop opened, provided that she promised not to include the mold in the coffee.
It leaves her in the now, strolling down the silent street on her way to work, worried by the tranquillity. No matter what she did, there was just a twinge of unease residing within. She knew she had escaped, yet she didn’t feel free. Any slight change in the routine could mean something was amiss to her.
There have never been so few people around before. What did it mean? Was there something she had missed? Could it be from the cold or from something much more cruel? The sewn seeds of panic sprouted again within Bive. Are they coming back for her? Did they find her? What if-
She shouldn’t think about that right now. She at least wanted to finish her work day first before deciding what her course of action would be. The first thing that she would do at times like these, when her thoughts begin to overflow in her head, would be to shove earphones into her ears to seal them shut and play a song.
Today was just the usual. Her favourite soothing jazz songs from an artist she loved.
A long while ago, she had come across the music artist who went by the name of Split. Well, come across was an understatement. She was completely inescapable for months. No matter where you were, online or in real life, you had to have heard her song. And then the other songs that began to trend when the EP was released.
And yes. Song. Singular. She took off with only her debut single, coming out of nowhere to the point where it even surprised her. She was mostly a radio and TV show hostess before she released any music. Though she had some popularity then, it did not set a precedent for her status now. It was a total surprise, but a welcomed one.
This was strange for Bive to know off the top of her head, considering she didn’t really research specific artists, her expertises being elsewhere. (And that she preferred to point fingers at certain genres instead. She HATED country pop.) However, back then, her sudden rise to fame had made her want to do a small investigation as to who she was, just to be entirely sure she wasn’t affiliated with the government in any way. Just one all-nighter could do no harm, right?
But there was another. Through looking into her, she ended up becoming a fan of her work. Her songs were earworms; Both catchy and calming. In the quiet moments of the day, she would find herself humming along to her sweet tunes. That second night was spent watching every interview, every performance, deciphering the meaning of all her songs. From then on she was infatuated.
The jazzier songs were her favourite. She did a few other genres, but they didn’t let you hear her gentle, warm voice in the same way.
Before it could cross her mind, she would end up right outside the cafe after three or so songs. The building sat comfortably on the street, compacted tightly between the two other small stores either side of it. The clouds had begun to clear up and the bright light of the morning had already found its way through the windows.
Once she locked her bicycle to the bike rest with her ten separate locks, she stepped into her workplace, taking in the peacefulness of the vacant cafe. The calm before the storm. She manoeuvred around the array of tables and untucked chairs she’d have to set straight yet again before opening and headed to the employee staff room.
Her finally setting her bag down triggered a large yawn to be released from her body, stretching her limbs and arching her back along with it. She reached for the light grey apron and visor above her, tying the apron’s strings behind her back tightly along with her hair, putting it into a low bun.
The next thing she had to do was to test the appliances to make sure everything was running smoothly, by making herself some coffee. Was she allowed to do this? Not exactly. Wallter implied she should make it at home so as to not use the store’s resources, but Wallter wasn’t here so he couldn’t tell her what to do. And the warm, happy hums from the coffee maker told her that (hopefully) nothing would break that day.
Besides, it gives her the energy to actually get through the day and do the things she hates doing like cleaning the tables and restocking the displays. Her getting paid for it did not change the fact she disliked doing anything chore-like.
The clock hits 7 am. The doors are open and it doesn’t take long for the regulars to come rushing in. Luckily, the most loyal patrons were usually the most quiet ones which always made her morning much more bearable. With some, she would actually say something that wasn't required of her like “Nice to see you again!” or “Have a nice day!” if she was willing to make the effort.
After the brief morning rush, the early morning hours would ease into the afternoon and the day would begin to get hectic. She would scramble as the orders piled up and up so she could get them done in time. It was the reason she would haphazardly slide around behind the counter to balance everything. Even with Wallter also being there sometimes it was still a lot!
This constant flowing stream of work would have a chance to be interrupted every now and again. By a certain type of customer that anyone would dread having to be around, working or not. Luckily this wasn’t the usual for her, but it happened just often enough for her to get annoyed ever so slightly more the next time an altercation happens.
Especially when it was over things you really couldn’t make up. Like a customer trying to order a drink that doesn’t exist at all, and never has. Or them just stepping into the wrong store entirely and just assuming every cafe has the exact same things. And then there’s the impatient ones who couldn’t extend even a spoonful of empathy to a living breathing person if their life depended on it.
The protocol was to get them out of the store as soon as possible, using whatever ideas Bive could come up with to make them hate this place. She was actually advised to just throw the drink at them if she couldn’t think of anything as a fail-safe (It was said in a joking manner though she wished it wasn’t) but she would always manage in the end. It didn’t take much effort anyways, giving them the completely wrong order was usually enough.
When the sun begins to set, most people are gone by that point and there’s only an hour left in her day. All she had to do now was stand at the counter and wait for the last few people to exit so she could close up.
They’re mostly just students who enjoy the cafe’s still nature in the evening. And since they used its peacefulness to aid their studying, a calm atmosphere filled the air.
It was the perfect recipe for a certain barista to doze off as she stared into nothingness with blurry vision. She felt her tired body finally release its tension like ripples in a pond. As she rested, she imagined herself curling up into her bed underneath her blankets and bringing an end to her long day.
This was the routine; this was all there was to her day. This was how her life has been for around the past year. The exact same thing.
Surprisingly, Bive liked it.
Things were boring, simple too, she couldn’t deny that. Yet it was the simplicity itself she enjoyed, allowing everything to get laid out in front of her. Knowing exactly what would be happening every time of day and what everyone around her would be doing meant she didn’t have to snoop and pry to figure it out herself. Most customers in the cafe would mind their own business, only ever talking to a friend if they didn't sit on their own or just leave instantly. Apart from the smallest of small talk, customers didn’t engage with her long enough or ask questions personal enough to start ringing alarm bells in her mind.
The paranoia was still in the back of her mind, of course, having been there as long as she could remember. It would be thousands of years before Bive's guard wasn’t up like a metallic fortress. But it became less and less of a requirement each day as she grew accustomed to her surroundings.
It was refreshing. For every second she didn’t have to dedicate her entire brain to that lab and ensuring she wouldn’t go back, the air got slightly easier to breathe in and out. Every minute she could look up at the sky and not an off-white ceiling of a cell was one she would spend appreciating, giving her another reason to never go back.
The final hour flew by in minutes and she was already waving goodbye to the last customer. With just five more minutes left she could start closing up the store, not like anybody would come in anyways. Or, that is what she would say.
She’s not even near the counter when she hears one more chime of the bell on the front door. Actually, she was in the back hanging up her apron, which she shoves back over her head at a speed that nearly pushes her glasses off her face. She slides across unswept floors, arms occupied behind her back, whilst trying to return to the store in a hurry.
“Sorry! Sorry. Welcome to Concrete Coffee, how may I serve you?”
It took a second for Bive to take in who she was looking at. She was a banana fruit-taur who seemed about the same age as her, but the features of her face were tough to make out with the streaks of eyeliner and mascara running down her chubby cheeks and leaving a dark smudge around her eyes. Her almost relaxed but pitiful expression clearly conveyed that this was due to tears. Not to mention her mouth was partially hidden beneath her light yellow hoodie with a banana pattern all over it. However, that would change to her mouth being freed so that she could be heard when she talks.
“A hot chocolate, please. With extra marshmallows. And some banana bread.”
Normally, what Bive would tell someone who ordered this late for any reason is to come back tomorrow, but something in her head told her to make an exception. Well, just look at her! It was something about her sad, puppy-ish eyes that told her she could really use this.
“Coming right up, ma’am!” Her voice sounded unintentionally sheepish.
The cafe slipped into quietness again, except this time there was a big difference in tone. The fact that every sound from the water boiling in the kettle to every drop poured into the mug could be heard felt more awkward than soothing now.
Bive still pushed through, hoping this could be anything nice to help with the rough day that girl’s been having. Maybe a little could go a long way? Like the teensiest bit of extra sugar or a few more marshmallows than usual? Hopefully it counted.
She opted to walk over to her and place it on the table she was seated at, being the one near the entrance lodged into the right corner. It wasn’t too much hassle as the broom she somehow managed to clean with was right beside her and she needed it later anyways. As she got closer she noticed the new expression the customer bore as she stared at her phone. A tired and sombre pout had taken over her teary, puffy eyed face and she was noticeably distracted by whatever messages were sent to her. Bive couldn’t make out what exactly was sent, but it clearly wasn’t something that would hurt herself so it wasn’t on the top of her priorities. She just slid the mug in front of the other, prompting the girl to look up from her device.
“Thank you.” The woman’s voice was soft, maybe a little hoarse, but still clear enough to understand.
Bive started closing up now, flipping the sign hung on the door to start. It’s mostly just dragging herself through the last few menial tasks, specifically a checklist. That being: sweep the floors, clean the tables and the coffee brewer, do the dishes, check when things expire and log it and a couple other things. Again, all arbitrary to her, but she had to do them anyway.
Though annoying, she did do this routine every day. In fact, she could do it in her sleep, and again, time passed by like the moment when you finally drift off and wake up. This left her with nothing to do while she waited for the customer to finish. Besides her apron she was basically ready to go, so it was just a matter of waiting. It was starting to bore her.
The thing that felt right to do was put on something to listen to, similarly to how they’d play songs in the afternoon. She preferred when music echoed through the store than using her earphones all the time, even if quietly. There was just something about the vibrations in her ear that she hated if it went on for too long.
Settling on a song was difficult. There wasn’t a particular melody that was rattling in her head all day so she would be fine listening to anything in the moment. When scrolling through her playlists began to seem endless she decided that her best bet would be to play an album by an artist and go from there. This led her to go straight back to her favourite artist right now. Bive wasn’t obsessed, per se. More so the music was great and fit perfectly playing in a small coffee shop such as theirs. At least that’s what she’d tell you.
A fun and catchy indie song took over the white noise of the city streets and any other small sounds that remained in the place. The sudden shift caught the attention of the other person in the room with a delayed reaction. She looked intensely at the speaker, then at Bive, then the speaker again, darting her head back and forth quickly.
“Are you… okay??” Bive had to ask, especially with her increasingly suspicious behaviour.
“Yes! Yeah, just surprised is all.” She said back frantically.
Odd, but nothing compared to others she has encountered while working here. She seemed to be almost done with her drink anyways.
Bive started spacing out again afterwards; Anything to make time go by quicker. At this rate it’d be just her and the music and she’d forget anything else was there. She could feel each note flow through all the way down to her feet and back up again, making her body move along to the melody. Then she’d go wherever it took her.
The rhythm was then interrupted by the scooting of a chair and pitter-patter of footsteps. Bive paused.
Another thing to know about Bive was that she wasn’t the best dancer. In fact, she was terrible. However, she found she liked listening to music in that way. Just not in front of people though.
At least this didn’t bother the girl with her. She had downed her drink too and was dancing as well, joining her. She was evidently better but also had a casual and awkward charm too. A shy and sweet smile crept up upon her face as she slid around on beat.
Okay. This now felt significantly less embarrassing.
Bive felt confident enough to finish the rest of the song; It wouldn’t hurt considering she would probably not see this person again anyways.
It wasn’t long at all before they were dancing together. One small glance at each other and they felt it would be better to turn their solos into a duet, laughing off the strange situation they found themselves in. They both slowly swayed their way over to the centre of the room. Moving back and forth before they were face to face. Then, the song ended. Now it was just them and silence with a side of prolonged eye-contact.
It was worth mentioning they were a lot closer now. The simplest way to explain this is that they were much closer than intended. As if they were about to bump into each other!
“UH… I need to close down now?” Bive stated, doing her best to look away as normally as possible.
“What?”
“The shop. I was meant to close a while ago.”
“Oh, oh! Sorry!” She rushed to grab her bag.
Bive watched as the lights flickered out one by one with the press of each light switch. Soon it was completely dark there aside from the evening light that was getting comfortable inside.
She took a step out onto the street only to be attacked by the pouring rain. What once was a light drizzle had become a waterfall and she was stuck in the cascade. Great.
Not to mention the amount of locks on her bike she’d have to unlock while getting drenched. Without an umbrella she’d have to be crouched there with no cover. As she tried to get the key from her pocket to the first lock, the rainwater made it slip in her hands meaning it was a struggle to even hold it properly. All of a sudden, it got easier though, as the rain calmed down, but only around her?
“You seem to be in a slippery situation.”
It was that girl again. With an umbrella. An on theme banana umbrella. Bive noted that down.
She was slightly crouched down too, letting her banana peel shell get drenched entirely whilst sheltering Bive. Doing it all with a divine and kind-hearted smile on her face, she looked directly through her.
And Bive looked back, observing how the indigo lighting of the night lit up her face. A true blue came from somewhere just to cascade on her snout and the white colours from the streetlights added a twinkle to her eye. The streaks had faded more now, but even paying mind to that she was really pretty. How did Bive not notice before?
“Hello? Are you still there?”
She snaps back into reality.
“I know it’s a little cold out here but don’t freeze up on me!” She said whilst giggling.
Bive also tried to let out a tiny laugh but her anxiety made it far louder than she wanted. Oh dear. Before she made the situation worse, she went back to freeing her bike.
“So, why all the locks?” She asked with a tilt to her head.
“All of them are needed to keep the bike protected.”
“Wow! This bike must be real special to ya, huh?”
“NO. I just don’t like being robbed.” Bive said bluntly.
Again, The banana girl started laughing, leaving Bive confused by her even more.
“What’s so funny?” She sounded a bit upset.
“Nothing! Nothing. Just that ten is probably overkill.”
Bive stands up, now able to move her bike.
“WELL what you call overkill I call the bare minimum!” She stated, beginning a small tangent. “Though my ideas and way of thinking don’t tend to be understood by everyone. I mostly just don’t trust the denizens around here to not steal my things.”
“This is one of your ideas?” She seemed to be intrigued.
“Well, nobody else seems to do this.” She shrugged.
After a moment of silence, the detective assumed the conversation was over and turned to walk away.
“Thank you for helping me.” She uttered, already facing the other way.
“Wait!” The one wearing all yellow extended her arm holding the umbrella.
“Wha-”
“Take it! I’m driving home and you have to cycle all the way back.” She explained, staring directly at Bive's confused face. “It’s totally fine, I have others! Take it as a thank you from me.”
Bive wrapped her hand around the handle slowly, moving each finger in place one by one. Every time she would check to make sure this wasn’t some sort of trap. In conclusion, no, it apparently was not. Just a working and perfectly normal umbrella. The only exception being its size, clearly created for someone who’s her species.
“Cya!” The other waved goodbye, rushing to her car up the street.
In the end, Bive managed to make it home in one piece, feet not as soaked from rainwater as they usually would be.
Speaking of her feet, they were extremely tired. And the weariness travelled up her legs to the rest of her body. She could feel the cold wood of the door up against her back as she slid down.
Whilst seated, she holds out the now closed umbrella in both her hands and cautiously begins to break off the handle. She just had to make sure there were no spy cameras from the government hidden inside or sensors taking in her fingerprints, basic safety precautions.
She couldn’t see anything too alarming, or hear any strange beeping noises. This was just a perfectly normal and, now, broken umbrella! She was talking to a regular person and not a government agent! What a relief.
She could untense her body now, fully. Bive probably would have slept right then and there if she wasn’t in her current clothes. They were fine, but she preferred something even more comfortable now that she could wear whatever. This was usually a combination of her favourite sweaters and sweatpants, probably lived on her floor for ages and definitely unwashed for a while, just how Bive liked it.
This outfit was completed by a light brown detective coat that relaxed over her shoulders perfectly. It was the only clothing item she had that she made an effort to wear every day whenever she could, and the only one that acknowledged her love of investigation and her curiosity. While her computer took its time to boot up, she fiddled with the dirty, speckled cuffs as she spun in her chair. With the time she had to wait, she pulled the sides of the coat to glimpse at it again for the millionth time.
Dirt and chemical stains from when she first escaped the lab to coffee stains a few days ago all left various sized blotches on the coat’s exterior. She was so scared of it getting damaged or altered she hadn’t washed it since the day she stole it. It didn’t bother her, nor did it affect her that it bothered others when they complained about the stench, but it put a thought in her mind when it was placed on her shoulders again. What if she did try cleaning it?
She hated the sound of a washing machine. The electronic vibrations made her twitch when they ran through her ear. Uncomfortable and annoying at best and brainwashing her at worst. She’d be willing to put up with it for some clothes but, not her coat. When she was home it practically lived on her back and she had no want for it to be anywhere else. Giving it to a dry cleaner was a no-go cause there was no way she’d trust a stranger with it. She couldn’t even hand it over to her acquaintances, who knows what they’d do!
With no one to trust with the burden, she bared the bed she made. She didn’t like when things changed much anyway.
She recoiled from the blue light pouring from the computer screen onto her face. Bright… It was especially bright in a dark room like her own. Annoying, but much preferred compared to it wiping her mind like she thought it did before.
The many tabs having to load left the computer fan spinning and the hard drive chirring. Apparently, leaving them open every time made it hell for the pc to pick up where it left off. The one she left open was one of Split’s music videos, which she played whilst she scoured for leads.
She planned on spending all night on lost media again, searching for a sci-fi movie she’d been looking for for ages now, but her attention was divided. The banana theme Split used with her branding quickly made her think of the fruit-taur she met earlier that day. She couldn’t seem to get her out of her head for some reason. Their interaction replayed in her head like she was searching for something, just like with her other detective cases. As if she were missing something.
Oh!
She forgot the banana bread she ordered.
Eh, it was probably fine.