Chapter Text
“Fuck! What the hell was that?”
A loud bang, followed immediately by a burst of profanity, just the way her mornings start nowadays. Getting up from her bed disgruntledly, her hands reached for the nearest thing she could use as a blunt weapon, which just happened to be the bed light. Slamming the door open, she took an immediate swing at one of the imps blowing up firecrackers right outside her quarters, narrowly missing their bald, bulbous heads.
“How many times do I have to tell you idiots to stop playing with explosives right outside my room!?” she bellowed, a hallowing cry which was only met with sneering laughter and thrown slippers as the little runts scurried away along the hallway.
“Blasted little pig droppings.” she spat, stomping on the remains of the firecrackers, kicking it out of the way. There’s little point in resuming her rest now, not with the bane of all zombiekind – sunlight, already peeking through the moth-eaten curtains barring the run-down windows of the orphanage. She supposed, if anything, those rotten imps do make an efficient alarm clock.
Retreating back inside her quarters, she slammed the door shut, causing several of the frames adorning her walls to fall unceremoniously onto the floor. She decided to ignore this, instead focusing on her attempt to blink away her remaining drowsiness.
Even without the imps, she couldn’t even claim she had been in any way well-rested for… months now, actually. Sleep, once a sanctuary and relief from her miserable day-to-day, has now proved ineffective, with how little she seemed to dream lately. Every time she closed her eyes, it was naught but void – an empty darkness.
This, of course, wouldn’t be a cause of concern under normal circumstances. After all, there’s nothing abnormal about a dreamless slumber. Yet she couldn’t help but notice something amiss with this recent lack of dreams. It almost seemed… artificial. A nothingness that was jagged, imperfect – like splatters of black paint that’s been badly splotched to conceal something that’s supposed to be there.
“Maybe I’ve finally lost it,” she muttered, chuckling to herself. “I’m bound for the nuthouse any day now.”
Well, to say her recent slumbers have been devoid of dreams wouldn’t exactly be true. One dream – memory, moreso – still managed to surface every once in a while from beneath her subconscious. Even if the detail had become hazy over the years, like static spreading over a footage of a home recording, some of the imagery remained quite vivid, untarnished. A vast, ever-spanning field or rye, the yellow-ish tint of an autumn afternoon, and—
She shook her head feverishly, halting any more of this memory to come forth. If there’s anything she wished her mind could’ve abstracted, it would’ve been that, but alas….
Gnashing a stick of cigarette between what once could be considered lips, she produced a cheap lighter out of her bathrobe, lighting it up before subsequently releasing a puff of smoke into the room. This’ll do to take her mind off things. A necessity if she wished to get through today. Zomboss, late last night – informed her that he demands her presence this morning. A wonderful way to ruin your day from the get go, she mused bitterly.
As she departed for the meeting room, her hand halted over the doorknob as she glanced towards one of the frames littered on the floor. Laid there just a couple inches away from her slippers, was a golden frame, housing a worn-down piece of paper, its written contents almost completely faded from age.
She snorted, opening the door and slamming it back shut without another glance.
~X~
The meeting room was still empty once she arrived. A small blessing, all things considered. It meant a couple minutes of reprieve before that blaring headache struts in.
She took her usual seat, one furthest from Zomboss’ at the left side of the long table, as well as opposite to where the cavewoman usually sat. No zombie smells ”good,” per say, but that huntress’ insistence to always carry her dog, even into meeting rooms, didn't exactly help matters much. Sometimes she pondered why Zomboss never objected to such arrangements, but in the end, she supposed it’s the same reason as always, because he wouldn’t be the one cleaning up the mess.
Her hand ventured into the depths of her ruined bathrobe, retrieving another cigarette alongside her lighter. This’ll be her third for the day, but she figured she has enough time before either Zomboss or Hunterria barge in to ruin her day further.
Blank gaze swept across the room, scrutinizing the empty seats scattered around the table, pondering the ones who used to occupy it, the ones who're no longer here.
Back in the day, this was where the fabled zombie heroes used to convene, where Zomboss would give them briefings. After that whole thing went to the dogs, the seats were then occupied by those within the Graveyard Onslaught initiative. Now in the present, only one of their ranks remained, and replacing the fallen, the ostracized, and the expelled was none other than herself.
How lucky of her.
“I told you not to do that indoors!”
Her head instinctively turned, finding the expected sight of Zomboss hauling a projector into the room, loathable as always. “Forgive me. Sir,” she mumbled out.
“Put it out,” Zomboss said, as he settled the things he carried onto the table. She did as instructed, watching her detestable boss turn off the lights.
“Now, since you’re already here, let’s not waste any time.” Zomboss jabbed the projector on, which immediately casted a series of convulsing imagery onto the wall. Somehow, through the darkness, Zomboss managed to pick up her retching in response to this.
“An appropriate reaction. As you can see, recent events have unwittingly let these failed, abominable “zombotanies” breach containment. Perhaps due to their plantlike properties and the wretched season of harvest, their numbers have exploded exponentially.”
While fully aware of these creatures’ existence, she usually preferred to keep her distance and not think about them. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Their unsuspecting, half-zombie appearance has successfully deceived some of our “lessers” to think that they’re on our side. This, of course, left them easy prey for these deplorable plant hybrids.”
Zomboss paused his raving, fixing his gaze at her. “I need you and your imp troops on the ground to exterminate these pests.”
She blinked stupidly. “Me? But sir, surely, the cavewoman would be more apt to handle such matters.” Her gaze scanned the room, now noticing that, oddly – Hunterria had not entered the room after Zomboss.
“I have Hunterria assigned to another pressing matter. She is currently in Caliginous Carnival, and will be unavailable to handle this crisis,” Zomboss said dismissively.
“What kind of matters?’
“Nothing that concerns you. I’m only having her check the recent increase of paranormal sightings there.”
“Paranormal? We are zombies, sir. We are by definition, paranormal.”
“What do you take me for? You knew that’s not what I meant!” Zomboss raised his voice, causing her to wince.
“Right, of course. Forgive my insolence, sir.”
“That’s more like it,” Zomboss said, with that unfounded poise she detested him for. “But to answer your concerns, you won’t be the only one dispatched on the ground to handle this dilemma.”
Creases formed on her temple “But if not Hunterria, then who–”
The question never managed to leave her lips before it was immediately answered. Replacing the grotesque images of zombotanies, was now a huge facecam of their longtime foes.
“Boss Man, why’d you call?” a gruff voice echoed throughout the room, prompting an exasperated groan out of her. Fortunately, Zomboss didn’t seem to notice.
“This is an urgent matter, David! You know I would never contact you otherwise!”
A perky robotic voice responded, “Your escapades during the summer proved otherwise.”
“Great, the car is here too,” she grumbled, watching Penny enter the frame.
“Silence, you insolent machine! Have you no sense of urgency? Look all around you, noticed anything happening?”
“Yes, obviously,” the time machine answered sassily (somehow), “there has been an uptick in zombotany appearance across history. I have informed User Dave of this.”
“I assume you have something to do with that?” Dave harbored a guess.
“No, I did not! But, seeing as these zombotanies pose dangers to both of us, I suggest a truce, in which we exterminate all these pesky pests together!”
“Aren’t these things on your side?”
“These things are practically animals, David. You can tame a wolf. But when ten of them suddenly pile on you, they’re on our side as much as they are on yours!”
“I guess that makes sense…. What’d you say, Penny? Truce?”
“We were going to exterminate them either way, User Dave. While the help is welcome, still, I advise to tread on the side of caution, allying with such distrustful parties.”
“What about you, neighbor?” Crazy Dave looked over his shoulder to interrogate his neighbor, just out of sight, and she let their corresponding response and further dialogue between Zomboss and Dave blur in the background, collapsing her face straight onto the table.
Surely she wasn’t being asked to endure imps, zombotanies, and now those plant loving freaks all at once? This seemed unthinkably cruel, even from her loathsome leader.
“So you’re gonna have granny fight alongside us?” The intentional misspelling of her title roused her from her lamentations.
“Yes, but not only her.” At this, she picked her face back up, fixing Zomboss a questioning look. “You assumed that I was the one responsible for these zombotanies’ return, but truly, the blame fell solely on ZCorp, whose construction of Rift Roads broke through a dimensional pithole I used to designate as a cage for these freaks! That’s why I’ve asked Zombillion for one of their representatives, to also lend men and resources to help us rectify this issue!”
Great. Not that she enjoyed the company of those pencil pushers, but it’s a step up from her current acquaintances—
“In fact, here they are right now!”
As if on cue, the door slammed open, and with it, a figure came sauntering in, carrying with them a burst of energy that managed to overpower the previously suffocating air of the meeting room.
“Gooooooood morning, Neighborville! Reporting to you live from Z-Tech headquarters, it’s me—”
Her eyes shot wide open. Fuck. Not her. Anyone but her.
“Miss Information!”
Right before her stood Miss Information, exactly as seen on TV. She sported her trademark, extravagant navy blue blazer, stylishly unbuttoned to reveal a plain white turtleneck underneath. A ZCorp press ID with her name badly scribbled on it hung easily from her neck – barely visible from the curtain of wavy brown hair that surrounded it, which was tied to a neat bun atop her head.
“The one and only!” Miss Information cheekily exclaimed, extending an open hand towards Zomboss, who regarded it suspiciously,
“Zombillion sent you?” the man blurted out. “I thought he would’ve sent some… lower ranked schmuck to handle this.”
“I actually personally requested to be assigned to this mission when I heard about it. I assume there won’t be any problem with that?”
The journalist tilted her head alongside her answer, a subtle movement that disrupted the strands of hair that made up her bangs, causing it to fall lightly over her face.
Her eyes followed the trail those stray strands had formed, going down from Miss Information’s forehead and ending right just above her eyelids, almost covering the reporter’s eyes from view. Eyes that she could’ve sworn – for a fleeting moment – were staring back at her.
“If she gets deployed on the ground… there’s a high likelihood one of those zombotanies would kill her. Most favorable outcome indeed, indeed…” Zomboss muttered.
“Uhm, sir? I think you’re saying your internal narration out loud,” Miss Information said.
“I’ve no objection to this!” Zomboss exclaimed, finally shaking the reporter’s hand and ignoring her words. “Just get yourself acquainted with your partners in this mission first! I assumed you already have your share of run-ins with our accursed foes—”
“Of course, your nastiness. I know just about everything about Crazy Dave and Penny, even more than they think I do, in fact!”
“Oh, that’s reassuring to hear,” Dave deadpanned.
“I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t still have bugs around the house, User Dave,” Penny said, before the sound of a car driving off could be heard from the call.
“Yes, yes. And here is my general of the imp division, The Nanny. I assume this is the first time you two are acquainted?”
At the question, both women casted their gaze onto each other. Hers was a flat, deadpan look constructed with tremendous effort, damming her true thoughts from surfacing. Miss Information meanwhile, sported a straightforwardly courteous smile. All deceiving in its simplicity.
“It is a pleasure to be meeting you, miss.”
She took a moment before receiving the extended hand, responding blankly, “Likewise.”
Her hand reeled back, but her gaze lingered on Miss Information, whose expression had now morphed into a more neutral, impassive look – albeit a faint smile remained on her face. It is not before she felt another’s gaze on her did she shift her eyes from the reporter’s.
“Is there something on my face, sir?” She turned to face Zomboss.
Zomboss slightly aligned his bloated head, his eyes moving subtly between the two of them. “No. I’m just suddenly reminded of something Zombillion and I talked about once.”
“Well, if that’s all the introductions done and dealt with, shall we get started?” Miss Information spoke, diverting everyone’s attention.
“Right, your first assignment, I need you to look over these specific time periods—”
As Zomboss briefed them for their mission, she did her usual: gazing blankly at the ceiling and letting his droning voice blur in the back of her mind. Whatever it was that she would eventually get wrong from her refusal to listen – she would just pin it on one of the imps, like she always did. Zomboss himself never commented nor did he seem to care about this, too infatuated with the sound of his voice to notice. It was a good time to unwind, and she took all the small blessings she could get in this miserable job.
Yet her little retreat, usually unnoticed by either Zomboss or Hunterria, seemed to have taken the interest of their newcomer. She could see it, just barely from her peripherals – how the journalist was discreetly peeking a glance at her every now and then, in between pretending to listen to Zomboss’ rambles.
“Well, miss – shall we be off?”
She sputtered, just now realizing that the meeting had concluded. Zomboss had long left, and the call with the gardeners had also been disconnected – leaving only the two of them inside the vast, unlit room. Instead of responding, she merely stared at the reporter before her, at the expression barely legible amidst the darkness.
“Miss—?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Hm?”
“Addressing me like this, as if we’ve never met. What are you planning?”
To this, Miss Information’s previous faint smile broadened, now imbued in an enigmatic air.
“Isn’t figuring things out as we go along part of the fun? What good is a TV show that spoils all the good parts at the beginning?”
The reporter tilted her head playfully, squinting her eyes while a vague smile continued adorning her expression.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”