The Sound of Betrayal

By: InitialA

Disclaimer: I don't own Night Vale.

Cecil pounded on the door to the lab. "Carlos? Carlos!"

He glanced behind him, towards the sky, watching for any yellow helicopters. Somewhere in his gut he knew that the lie he'd told over the broadcast, that everything would be fine, was going to fall through sooner rather than later. He'd be StrexCorp meat. Literally, if his research proved true.

Oh, he wasn't stupid. It had taken a few minutes to figure out that the man he'd seen, his double, was someone from nearby. Most of the doubles were similarly employed, yet no one else had reported seeing Cecil's double in the radio station. At home, he'd had the idea to look at other nearby towns and their radio stations. The man he'd seen was part of the Desert Bluffs radio station. From there, Cecil's research led him to Strex. Part research facility, part manufacturing plant, part national business center, their products ranged through just about everything Cecil could ever imagine. They dabbled in medicine, weapons, transportation, infrastructure, all the way down to little things like insurance. However, underneath the floorboards, it seemed like there were just too many dismissed lawsuits, too many missing persons reports gone cold, and too many whispers that all seemed to lead right back to Strex. None could be linked to Strex with any proof, but Cecil recalled how even the Desert Bluffs radio station seemed… well, the station interior was putrid, to be sure. And one evening, he'd listened to the online broadcast of his double's show; it was all too neat. Too picturesque, trying to cover the horror underneath.

At least here at home, they were up front about the terror of everyday life.

Cecil banged on the door again, his glittery polished fingernails digging in to his palms. "Carlos, I really need to talk to you!"

He heard a series of clicks behind him, and the unmistakable sound of a charge warming up. "And we really need to talk to you, Subject CTC4SK-13. Hands and any other non-pedal limbs in the air and turn around slowly."

Cecil raised his hands. Shaking slightly, he started to turn. "Four appendages only, human arms and legs." He managed to keep his voice from wavering.

His heart plummeted. If he wasn't terrified of being shot on the spot, he would have checked to make sure it hadn't actually left his body. Carlos was flanked by two other scientists he knew from visiting the lab, all holding guns that looked like they belonged in a science fiction movie. "Carlos…"

"Subject CTC4SK-13 will remain silent unless ordered. Restrain him, and take him back to the research and development labs."

Cecil tried making eye contact with the two women who were binding his arms behind his back, and shackling his legs together, far enough apart that he could still walk and not get very far if he bolted. They ignored him, and frog-marched him to a waiting yellow van. Cecil twisted, looking over his shoulder at Carlos. His scientist—was he ever his to begin with?—didn't meet his eyes, and spoke into a comms unit: "Subject en route to headquarters. Immediate priorities requested for interrogation, testing, and holding facilities."

Cecil was shoved into the van, and the doors slammed behind him, leaving him in darkness as the van vibrated to life underneath him.