Hey, surprised? This is the re-write of Records of the Lost Time. Another author that I asked to review this story told me that the character's voice didn't match the seriousness of the situation and after re-reading the first chapter... I realized that she was right. I made the character sound more humourous and sarcastic than I intended... when I was trying to go for something else.

So after a lot of editing, I finally have this masterpiece.

I hope all of you enjoy this! It took me two days to re-write it again.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Diamond/Joker/Clover/Heart no Kuni no Alice franchise. I do, however, own the narrator of the story whose once humourous voice has taken a much more serious tone.

Chapter One

Sitting in the cold and gray interrogation room of the local police department made most people nervous. Especially if the interrogation is about to be conducted by the hard-as-nails police chief himself.

But this was hardly the first time I've been brought down to the station.

Or been interrogated by the police chief.

Leaning forward in my seat and plopping my elbow on the metal table that sat between us, I rested my chin in the open palm of my left hand and watched with vague interest as Police Chief Clark of the Vancouver Police Department drained his third coffee mug right in front of me. Watching a police officer (even if it was the head of the police himself) drinking himself into a caffeinated stupor was hardly interesting, but it broke the monotone of just sitting and staring at the person across from me after doing nothing for essentially two hours straight.

As I watched my would-be-interrogator continue to down the contents of his mug, my fingers started tapping against the cold metal table to break the irritating silence that settled in. There was only so much one could watch people drinking coffee without losing interest.

I wonder if any of my peers have been hauled to the police station at two in the morning just to watch an officer of the law get his coffee fix?

Chief Clark -who I called 'The Chief' for short- told me that ever since I started making it my life's mission to get caught in a situation every month because I couldn't curb in my thirst for justice that his coffee intake had tripled. I had a feeling that after this particular conversation, his coffee intake was going to upgrade into the quadruple numbers.

The sound of a cup being set down followed by shuffled papers drew my attention back to The Chief. I sat up a little straighter in my seat as this meant that he was finally ready to talk to me.

The Chief cleared his throat several times before he started speaking.

"You know, Yulia," He said lightly. "Most university students are either studying hard for their degrees or out partying just as hard when they should be studying."

I stared at him before folding my arms across my chest.

The fact that The Chief started this interrogation with a patient tone told me that I was really in for it. I've been hauled into his office enough times to know that The Chief was the kind of person to start building up steam before he really got going.

"I am not most university students." I said. And I meant that statement both literally and figuratively.

I was known around the campus for being 'that violent chick who kicks the asses of everyone she comes across' but that hardly covered my entire character. If I were being melodramatic about it, the 'violent chick' part hid a more sinister side of me despite just how negative the title of 'violent chick' already was.

"Yeah," His voice underlined with sarcasm. "I got that when you were brought in here for the first time a year and a half ago. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the one responsible for a human-trafficking scheme gone wrong was a five-foot three university freshman."

I shrugged. The police were struggling with that one case and I decided to help them out at the time. Though when I told them that, The Chief had been far from impressed. He went off on me about how I was a civilian and that I shouldn't be sticking my nose into places it didn't belong.

If only he knew.

"So what are you so mad about this time?" I asked. "Shouldn't you be enthusiastic that this case is pretty much wrapped up? And you didn't even have to lift a finger either."

Considering that I was the one who did all the hard work of looking into the suspects and setting up the traps to get them once and for all.

"And left a clusterfuck of a mess in your wake." The Chief said tiredly, signalling at the two-way window much to my amusement. It was the window you saw in detective dramas where there were people standing outside observing the suspect and the interrogator. If there was anything the creators of detective shows got right, it was the two-way window.

A few minutes later an officer came inside the room and dropped off The Chief's fourth cup of coffee. He took the steaming mug and immediately brought it up to his lips, letting out a little satisfied after taking a sip.

"Can I get a hot chocolate?" I asked.

He gave me an incredulous look and I rolled my eyes.

"I've been sitting here and watching you guzzle coffee like a car consumes gas. Give me a cup of steaming hot chocolate or I'll refuse to talk."

Which meant that we'll probably be sitting in the interview room for another couple of hours.

Ten minutes later I was sipping the hot cocoa that they delivered. Not bad. If I knew who made it, I would thank them personally.

"So where do you want to start?" I finally set the mug down as I looked straight at him. I decided that it was time to face the music since I had to face it eventually.

"How about with 'why did you get involved'? I had my men on the case and even then you decided to do your own investigating despite the numerous times we asked you not to."

I raised an eyebrow. The Chief already knew why I decided to investigate on my own. Especially after I had stormed his office personally demanding to see the body of the unidentified victim after the media broke the story. Considering how insistent I was on getting a good look at the victim, I highly doubted he didn't know the reason I became so obsessed with the case.

Especially since I was the one who identified the victim in the first place.

But the look on The Chief's face told me that he wanted an explanation anyways.

"It's all so redundant." I sighed. "But fine. I'll tell you why. Even though you already know the answer."

I took a deep breath.

"Because I wanted justice." There. Blunt and to the point. "And I'm sorry to say that I didn't trust your officers to catch the murderers. Every single one of them."

The justice was not for me but a former classmate of mine... who had also been my roommate. The victim of what was now Vancouver's most violent and gruesome murder case so far.

Not that she was around any longer to enjoy the justice, which made the ending of such a shocking and disgusting case so bittersweet. While I made sure that all of them would pay for what they did, in the end no one won. Catching her murderers' wasn't going to bring her back; all it would do was bring closure to her friends and family.

And even that wasn't much of a consolation prize.

I took a sip of my hot chocolate as I tried to get my thoughts in order. I hardly slept for the past few weeks, only crashing when my body demanded the rest since I was so hell-bent on throwing the people responsible for my roommate's death in jail and locking them away for life.

I had failed my roommate.

I failed to protect her even though I could have.

In the aftermath of it all the least I could do was make sure that her murderers paid for what they did.

My roommate's name had been Tara Benson.

She was formerly a shy and quiet girl who mostly kept to herself. A wallflower who tried to blend into the background and become one of the crowd. The type to hang her head and hoped that no one would notice her. She was on the short with her height barely past the five foot one mark.

She was the perfect target for anyone hoping to prey on the weak and vulnerable.

Prior to becoming my roommate, Tara was staying a couple of rooms down from me with another girl named Natalie Saunders. An obnoxious and stuck-up girl with no concept of what sharing a room meant. The type who seemed to think that the world revolved around her and that everyone should bend to her whims. While Tara had never talked to me about her former roommate once she moved in to my room, I already had the impression she was far from being the ideal roommate.

Though the loud music that sometimes blared from their room at around 2 AM in the morning was a huge tip-off.

While I never expected Tara would become a murder victim, I was probably the catalyst to her death.

That was why this case was so personal.

I met Tara for the first time when I was walking back to my dorm late one night. Before then, I either saw her sitting at the front of our shared classes or in the hallways. I had been minding my own business when screams suddenly exploded from the room I was walking past at the time.

It was Tara and she had been screaming in what I recognized as pure fear. The kind of fear you experienced when backed into a corner with no way out. How many times have I heard that kind of scream? I didn't even think about what I did next. I just kicked down the door and broke it in half. After one look around the room to figure out what the hell was happening, I then proceeded to unleash my extensive knowledge of martial arts on the boy forcing himself on to Tara in a crude and sexual manner.

At least I assumed it was sexual and non-consensual. The guy's pants were down and he was shoving Tara to the ground while the latter struggled in his grip still screaming.

When I was later brought to the office to explain the property damage and the hospitalization of one Spencer Aarons (the boy who was trying to rape Tara at the time), my explanation was that I was performing my civic duty. I am not the type to stand by and let something happen if there was anything I could do about it.

Being powerless to do anything is something I've experienced far too many times for my liking.

Thankfully the higher-ups were reasonable adults. They listened to all of our stories and after a lot of encouragement to try to get Tara to tell what she experienced at Saunders' hands, she told the Head of the School just what kind of person Saunders was behind closed doors- physical beatings, emotional beatings... everything. After the nurse checked Tara over and reported the bruises on her body to the Headmaster, he acted immediately.

He expelled Natalie Saunders and her just as diabolical boyfriend for what they did to Tara. Natalie was told to gather her belongings and to be off campus grounds by the next day.

What was even better was that the Headmaster put it all on their records. So if the two of them tried to apply for any other post-secondary institutions, they would find themselves under scrutiny with their applications likely to be rejected. After all, UBC was one of the best schools within Canada and getting expelled from such a prestigious institution was no laughing matter. Finding jobs would also prove difficult as well.

I wasn't one to dwell on the misfortune of others, but I had no sympathy for those who sought out the weak with the purpose of bullying them.

In the aftermath, I instantly volunteered my room to Tara since I was the one who the broke down the door of her old room in the first place and she could hardly stay in a room with a destroyed door. Besides, she probably wanted nothing to do with a place that held nothing but bad memories.

But it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

I should have realized that Natalie Saunders wasn't the type to leave such a humiliation unchecked. Even if expelled and no longer allowed access to the university facilities, that didn't mean she didn't have friends still on campus to carry out her bidding.

Friends who were more than willing to 'avenge' her.

And by 'avenge', I meant make Tara's life a living hell through any means possible.

I was able to alleviate most of the harassment by verbally threatening Saunder's friends and fighting back, but it hadn't been enough. The fact that Tara was dead was a testament to that.

Even weeks after the murder, I still wondered how I failed to see any of it coming. Especially if they were picking up the slack of what their friend had started.

If there had been anyone that Natalie Saunders and friends should have gone after, it would have been me. After all I was the one who broke down the door, beat up Saunders' boyfriend and then pretty much ousted them to the UBC higher-ups. Basically, I was the one who got her expelled in the first place.

But I guess my reputation preceded me. Unfortunately Saunders had enough brain cells to realize that going after me would just result in a lot of broken limbs and even more humiliation. She did witness me beating up her six-foot tall boyfriend after all.

So they decided to go after the next person that Saunders blamed for getting her kicked out of UBC.

Tara.

I should have seen it coming.

But I didn't.

And now Tara was buried six feet under.

I've had people from the Headmaster, to my teachers, to the Police Chief telling me that her death wasn't my fault. That no one would have seen the fate that awaited the girl two weeks later.

Maybe I hadn't been the one to murder her, but something inside me was still convinced that I could have seen Saunders' retribution coming. After all, she was such a self-centered bitch. She was selfish, self-absorbed and as I mentioned before, thought the world revolved around her. Definitely not the type to leave things left alone if she could find someone to blame for her misfortune.

Especially if it was misfortune she brought down on herself.

One night Tara didn't come back.

I didn't realize this immediately since I was so focused on studying for the upcoming finals at the time. I had a bad habit of tuning out my surroundings when I was either reading or studying and one of things I stupidly tuned out was the fact that my roommate hadn't return the day before. It wasn't until I remembered that I hadn't seen Tara for a while that I finally got that something was wrong.

Then the headlines of the day caught my attention as I walked past a newspaper stand and I could feel nothing but dread forming at the bottom of my stomach.

The front page news of most of the newspapers that day went something along the lines of this:

At some point in the early hours of Saturday morning where the chances of anyone taking a late night run were slim, the small body of an unidentified woman had been dumped right in the middle of the trail of the Pacific Spirit Regional Park. At around ten am in the morning, a family of five people half way into their family weekend "fun run" stumbled across the gruesome sight.

They immediately called the police who then retrieved the body.

After they performed an autopsy of the unidentified female victim, the police released their findings to the media.

The victim was tortured alive and at some point violently raped. Her body was heavily mutilated by a sharp weapon, most likely a knife, and the deep purple heavy bruises on the victim's pale skin indicated a brutal beating at the hands of her tormentors.

If that wasn't bad enough, her face was hit the worst. It was so bloody and beaten and disfigured that the people on the force couldn't identify her. The psychos who killed her and desecrated her body had made sure that she couldn't be identified. At least right away.

I was far from squeamish due to my experience in witnessing things that would have driven most people insane, but the details of what happened to the victim made me sick. Probably because at that point I started putting two and two together.

I had a missing roommate.

There was an unidentified body discovered in the middle of the woods. One that belonged to a female.

I was jumped the gun by thinking there was a connection between the two. But my intuition told me that there was a good chance that the identified victim in the woods was my missing roommate. Especially since the Pacific Spirit Regional Park wasn't too far from the university campus.

And I learned long ago never to ignore my intuition.

One trip to the police station later and I was able to confirm what I already knew and dreaded: the unidentified victim of the Pacific Spirit Regional Park was Tara.

I couldn't remember much after that. It was all one big blur of anger, disgust and anguish. There were vague memories of me running around the university talking to people and gathering as much evidence and proof as I could. Enough proof to throw her murderers in prison for life because Canada didn't believe in executing people any more.

I knew who murdered Tara.

Or at least ordered her murdered.

If Saunders wasn't allowed back on campus grounds, then it would have been her friends who tortured and killed Tara on her orders. More than one person considering just how... violated my roommate had been. Too violated for all of it to be the work of a single individual.

All I needed to do was figure out how many people were involved and gather enough evidence to back up my claims. The police couldn't arrest people without evidence and accusations were not taken seriously unless there was proof to back it up.

So I just needed to get some.

Everything eventually came to a head when the people involved decided that I knew too much and decided to do something about it. Like the cliché of a crime novel where in the climax of the story, the protagonist confronted the perpetrator and they faced off against each other in what would be a life and death outcome.

Too bad for them I was already prepared and waiting for them.

The only thing I needed as damning evidence was a confession.

Which had been surprisingly easy to get. As easy as it was beating up everyone who participated in trying to jump me.

You know the saying 'pride always comes before the fall'? The fact most of them didn't get the memo meant that they were more than willing to part with the information I wanted and more. Because they were so confident that I wouldn't be able to see the light of day, much less tell anyone else about what they said when they ganged up on me, none of them considered keeping their mouth shuts.

I was able to obtain a confession on how they memorized Tara's schedule and picked out the perfect opportunity to jump her and then drag her into a secluded area where no one would be able to hear her and more.

All the gory details.

Every single one.

It hadn't been easy to listen to any of it, but if I wanted to convict any of them then that was a price I had to pay. And if that price was hearing them tell me just how much they enjoyed "teaching Tara a lesson" and then saying that they were going to do the same thing to me, so be it.

Seeing the looks on their faces when I told them that I bugged the area and myself with listening devices and that everyone from the police, other students, teachers and the Headmaster of the university were listening in to our confrontation was satisfying.

Very satisfying.

Not very lady like of me to revel in how they pretty much destroyed their own lives, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

After that it was pretty much a free for all between me and them until the police found the area we were in and surrounded the place. Then they broke out the handcuffs and clasped them on everyone who was there.

Including me.

Jerks.

"So there you have it." I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest and crossing one leg over another. "My sorry tale of avenging a girl who deserved none of what happened to her. Who just wanted to be left alone, but was instead dragged down and killed in a twisted person's idea of revenge."

My account of everything that took place had taken two hours and three more hot chocolates. The Chief ordered another two mugs of coffee. I wondered if he planned on getting any sleep this week with the amount he already downed in a single night.

"So..." I said breaking the silence. "What happens now?"

"Well," The Chief said dryly. "You're going to go back to your dorm and leave everything up to the police from now on. As much as you seem to enjoy doing my job for free, you're not one of my officers."

A fact that he kept rubbing in my face every chance he got. I found it kind of strange he didn't enjoy having someone do his work for free.

"Well that's gratitude for you." I said sardonically, rising out of me seat. I knew when I was being dismissed.

"But..." I looked at him as he spoke again. "You might want to be careful. Not everyone is going to be happy with what you've done, even though you caught a bunch of murderers who deserve jail time."

I opened my mouth to ask why when he cut me off.

"You literally drove Natalie Saunders insane. My officers are telling me that she's been screaming for your blood and going on about how you and the victim ruined her life." The Chief sighed. "Tell me how that happened?"

I made a face that told him just how much I sympathized with ruining Natalie Saunders' life. My roommate who didn't deserve her gruesome fate was dead and the only thing that her murderer could think about was herself. Not the person whose death she was responsible for.

"I told her that she was a self-centered bitch right to her face. Except with a lot more expletives." I said. "And I added that she would die alone with no one to love her because she was a monster in human skin."

She hadn't been the worst delusional person I had ever confronted, but she disgusted me all the same. Anyone who could do that to another human being was in no way a good person.

"Right." The Chief nodded. "So you were pretty much just being you."

"Pretty much." I also nodded.

Complete silence filled the room since the both of us ran out of things to say. Finally The Chief broke the silence again as he stood up and made his way towards the door.

"Well, I don't know about you, but it's been a long night." He rubbed the left side of his head. Probably because he had a headache from staying up all night and drinking coffee. "And I suspect it will be an even longer week."

He told me that on top of his multiplying coffee intake, he was also more prone to headaches and migraines. All thanks to me, apparently.

Then in a louder voice, he added, "Well, I think I pretty much got everything I needed. Go and get some rest well earned rest, Yulia." He paused when he was at the doorway. "And try to stay out of trouble this week, alright? Just stick to volunteering for the multiple organizations you've signed up for; only the Holy Man in the Sky knows how you manage to fit it all into your schedule."

And then he finally left.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes as I walked down the path towards my dorm building.

The officer who drove me back to the campus volunteered to walk me back to my dorm, but I declined his offer. I was more than capable of fighting back if someone got it into their heads to jump me, but I thanked him for his consideration since it was nice of him to offer in the first place.

It was all over and I was sure that Tara could now rest in peace. With her murderers caught and facing jail time (for life, I hope), all I wanted to do was get some sleep and not wake up until I was well rested. I didn't want to deal with any of the shit storm that was going to result from last night's events until I had gotten at least twelve hours of sleep.

However a few seconds later I was wide awake again.

Standing outside of my dorm building was a dark and powerful presence that made me stop cold in my tracks. One that a person with any semblance of power could sense a mile off.

"Princess Yulia." A low and masculine voice said for the sake of announcing himself rather than addressing me. Not that it really did him any good since I had already identified the owner of such a cold and dark presence.

There was only one being within the multiverse who held such power.

A dark figure that had hidden out of view from any unsuspecting civilian walking by detached itself from said hiding place and walked towards me.

"Great." I could feel a migraine of my own coming around as the man came closer. I guess this was karma for all the grief that I've put The Chief through for the past few weeks. "What are you doing here?"

FINALLY DONE! What do you think of the re-write of Records? I hope you enjoy this story much more than you did the last one! I've already said this before, but I'll say it again:

The inspiration of the gruesome fate of Tara Benson came from the fic 'Round and Round' by Tanglepelt and the real life murder of Reena Virk. If you're interested, go read about either sources or both or none if you're not interested.

Anyways, I put a lot of work into re-writing this piece! I want to hear what you have to say about it! So please don't forget to review!

As well as add this to your fav and alert list!