Before
"Unhappy is the land that breeds no hero." -Life of Galileo by Bertolt Brecht
"Tamika, just before her arrest, calmly waved a heavily-notated copy of Bertolt Brecht's Life of Galileo. She then paraphrased the influential German playwright saying, 'Sad is not the land that has no hero. Sad is the land that needs a hero.'" Cecil took a deep breath, and leaned away from his desk, drumming his fingers against it, before he spoke again. "An officer took the book and slid it into a plastic bag, as Tamika was handcuffed and led into the back of a bright yellow police cruiser with orange triangle logos.
"Night Vale… Night Vale." He closed his eyes. "I tried to tell you about this day. I was very clear. Tamika was very clear. We could have done something, Night Vale, but we…chose not to. Not one citizen outside of Tamika and her band of brilliant, brave, children stood up to tyranny today! We all chose to stand down, and hope change would be won for us, and not by us! By someone else, we believed." Cecil bit his lip. "A hero, we believed. But belief is only step one. Action is step two. Fighting for what you believe is step two. Solidarity is step two. Unity is step two. We did not take step two today, Night Vale! And now there will be no step three! We have failed Tamika. But worse, we have failed ourselves."
There was a sound, and Cecil looked up. Two people had entered his studio. He swallowed. "I'm– um…I've got guests in my studio," he said quickly. His heart skidded to a halt. "I don't know how they undid my secret barricade made of cardboard signs that said Keep out! and Secret room! in all caps with an exclamation point, but it's my program director, Lauren, and some man I've never seen bef–" Cecil stopped. He squinted. "But no, I have seen him before! Where have I seen you before?" He shocked his head to clear it, and turned back to his microphone as they started towards him. "They do not look happy, Night Vale. Lauren and the stranger-" he put emphasis on the the last word, staring into the stranger's eyes "-are smiling widely, their teeth white, lips pink, their eyes full but tight, deep dimples making their tiny noses into parenthetical asides, they are smiling, but they look very unhappy." He inhaled sharply. Just finish the broadcast, Cecil. Then you can go home. You can go home to Carlos and Khoshekh. "Perhaps it is, uhh, time to sign off for the day. Um, I am sure to speak to you again very soon, listeners." He swallowed, glancing up at Lauren and the strange man, who had reached his desk. He lowered his eyes, staring down at the papers in front of him, and then back up. "Stay tuned next for the gentle sounds of forgiveness, and a lilting melody of wounds healing, and until next time, goodnight, Night Vale–" A hand grabbed him, and Cecil was yanked up. "Hey! Hey! What are you– Ge–"
The microphone was knocked over. Cecil yelled, but the stranger- or was it Lauren?- yanked him back towards the door, muttering. "Hey! Hey! Let go of me, get off, get-"
They yanked Cecil closer, and he recognized the voice, but he didn't know where from.
"Come with me, and keep quiet," he hissed.
"But- But I need to finish the broadcast-"
"We have Khoshekh."
Cecil's eyes widened. "B-but… the… I need to… I've got to."
The stranger pressed his lips to Cecil's ear (or, rather, the air near his ear). "A scientist went into the house in the development, and there's no one to open the door for him. It would be a shame if no one was there to let him out! Ever!"
Cecil fell silent. The strange man pulled him through the door of the booth. He saw Lauren bend over and yank out a fistful of wires from underneath his desk. His breath caught in his throat.
That desk was his life.
Carlos was his life. Khoshekh was. His. Life.
Night Vale was his life. Cecil bit his lip, and tasted blood.
It wasn't over yet.