WELL. Here you go. this has been like months in the making, so enjoy this Welcome to Night Vale Heist! AU

Yes. This is corny AF most of the time. I REGRET NOTHING

"We've got another one."

The detective rubbed his eyes, groaning quietly into his phone. "Another museum?" he grumbled. "Rachelle, you can't be serious… this's the second break in this week. And I've only been here a week!"

"I know, Agent Ramon. But it's our same guy. Same MO- most valuable things missing,a single alarm tripped, and a USB drive with an audio recording. It's our friendly neighborhood Voice of Night Vale."

"Damn it," he yawned, and scratched the side of his stubbly face. "Doesn't this guy ever sleep?"

He sat up, joints creaking in complaint as he moved. "I'll be there in half an hour."

On this night at 3:34 AM, Agent Carlos Ramon, transferred in from the Federal Bureau of Investigation Los Angeles Office in Los Angeles one week previous, drove down to the Night Vale Museum of Technology. As he walked, he kept one hand in the pocket of his dull-white trenchcoat, and the other around the coffee cup that was currently the only thing keeping him from falling asleep where he stood. He held the hat keeping his unruly curly hair out of his face as he ducked under the yellow police tape that crisscrossed the scene. A woman approached him. "Morning, boss man." She said in a sarcastic manner.

"This is not morning, Rachelle. This is the night, and it is the reason I transferred out of the big city." he almost growled to his partner in crime (or crime catching, to be specific), rubbing his eyes. "This is definitely our guy?"

"Without a doubt." Rachelle nodded, one hand on her hip. "Dave from forensics is dusting for prints. Niljana is processing the audio."

"What was taken?" Carlos took a sip from his coffee.

Rachelle flicked through the statement. "An American 1920s microphone," she detailed, "a telephone, and…. Nikola Tesla's notebook. This is new."

"Yes…" Carlos muttered, "he's never taken anything like that. Least, not that I remember."

"He's getting brazen." a voice from behind them came, "there's track marks everywhere, like there were wheels in here."

Carlos turned to acknowledge the forensics expert, Dave, and then took a sip from his cup. "Wheels?" Carlos shook his head, "just what the heck are they doing?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Rachelle shrugged her shoulders, then turned back to Dave. "Anything else?"

"No more than usual." He shook his head and shrugged. "No prints, no dna evidence, nothing." he sighed. "There's a few nicks on the roof from whatever hooks they were using to get in through the skylight, but they're not anything that matches our database. There's traces of aerosol they probably used to see the lasers, so I will have to run a few tests on it."

"Good, good, get back with me as soon as you know more." Carlos nodded, "Thanks, Dave."

"Sure thing, boss man." He waved him off, running his hand through his red hair.

The two walked to where the computers were set up and approached a young woman, their Tech specialist Niljana, sitting intently with headphones. He looked at the laptop and saw that the same USB drive that was found at all of the other sites was the same: dark violet, painted with a lavender -colored eye with a crescent moon in the pupil. "Nils." Rachelle tapped her shoulder, and she removed the headphones. "Any hits in the voice recognition software?"

"Nothing." Her pigtails bounced as she shook her head. "It's not turning up any kind of hit. It's like this guy's a ghost." she handed Carlos the headphones. "But sir, I think you're going to want to listen to this."

The detective quirked an eyebrow, then sat down, covering his ears with the headphones.

"A new man came into town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut, so tragically covered by that black fedora with the gray band? Why his perfect and beautiful white coat? We have learned he is a Federal Agent. But, we have all been Federal Agents at one point in or another in our lives." Carlos had to note the amusement in the speaker's voice, but was set on edge by how close this Voice of Night Vale (as the media and current bane of the detective's existence Leanne Hart had dubbed him) seemed to the case. "But why now? And why here? Just what does he plan to do with his team members all tapping away at their computers, dusting for fingerprints that will never be there, searching for connections in a confusing and turbulent world in our humble town's police department- the one next to Big Rico's Pizza? Agent," Carlos felt his heart sink in uncertainty. "No one does a slice like Big Rico's. No one."

Carlos shook his head and removed the headphones. "This guy is nuts." he muttered. "He's obviously close to the case, or has someone on his team that is." he shook his head, "Something's telling me that the addition of Tesla's notebook is directed at me. If he's this close to the case, I'll bet he did his research. He may know I have a background in science, or something."

"Conceited much?" Rachelle snickered, but stopped once Carlos gave her a look that spoke volumes. "Sorry. So, anyways, what does this mean?"

Carlos shook his head. "I don't know yet." he admitted. "This guy, he's slick. Fifteen cases all over Night Vale and the Desert Bluffs Metropolitan area, and no evidence left behind at any scene. No correlation, no connections, nothing. They've been doing this for a long time, I think." he removed his hat, using his fingers to comb through his unruly hair, practically feeling the stripe of gray at his temples spread. "For now, we should be looking into the whereabouts of the items taken, to see if they've been sold and redistributed, or if they are being kept for their own collection."

The detective went to take another drink, only to find the bitter nectar of caffeination had run out. He groaned. "If there's nothing else to report yet, I'm going back to the precinct. Nils, you have the security footage of the other museums right?"

"Yeah," Niljana nodded, handing him a USB drive. "I don't know what you'll find, though. Looking through all I saw was a whole lot of nothing."

"There's a science to it, Nils." Carlos replied, shaking his empty paper cup with a frown. "And I am a scientist."

5:42 AM, Agent Ramon found himself in the conference room of the precinct still mulling over the security footage. Fifteen museums. Hundreds of people, mulling in and out at different times, spending different amounts of time before different exhibits. Desert Bluffs was well known for their array of museums. People came from all over the country to view the art and science exhibits. Night Vale, on the other hand, was much smaller. It was the kind of town where everybody knows you, and everybody knows your business, whether you tell it to them or not. While Desert Bluffs Metropolitan area was, well, a metropolitan area, Night Vale seemed to be a single-street type of town. It wouldn't take an intimate knowledge of the town to know about the artifacts in the Museum of Technology, but it may take an intimate knowledge of the town's dynamics to know that Carlos was staying there to be close enough to the case without placing himself in a line of fire, and the reasons he was there. He only just got the chance to put out a press conference reaching out for help the day before.

His phone rang. He checked the number. "Nils" Carlos pursed his lips in a frown, and tapped the green "answer" button. "Agent Ramon."

"Agent, I finished transcribing and decoding the rest of the audio message. I just sent it to your email." there was an audible sigh. "Boy, oh boy, this guy is wack-a-doodle."

"Good to hear your input," Carlos sighed, "thank you, Nils. Go get some rest, I get the feeling this isn't over yet."

"You too, boss. Go get a bite to eat. Man cannot live on coffee alone." Niljana chuckled. "Hey, he's not wrong though." his voice slipped into a tone resembling the mysterious Voice. "No one does a slice like Big Rico's. No one."

Carlos groaned and shook his head, putting a hand to his face. "You are so not helping, Nils."

"Just trying to lighten the mood. Seriously though. There may be something to the Big Rico's thing. May be a thing to follow up on."

"At this point, it's the only thing I can potentially follow up on. Thanks, Nils." He hung up the phone and took a deep breath, removing his thick-lensed spectacles so he could rub his eyes.

He minimized the security footage on his laptop, then clicked into his email. After scanning the attachment with an antivirus program to ensure it didn't have any hidden surprises within the file, he downloaded it and pressed play.

"That new agent we now know is named Carlos Ramon called a press conference. He has a square jaw and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and I hate and despair and love that perfect hair in equal measure." in an uneasy, almost unconscious motion, he touched his springy curls. "Carlos told us that the mysterious cases involving the Voice of Night Vale was, by far, the most scientifically and forensically interesting case in the US, and he had come to crack the case." Carlos felt his hands get clammy at his exact words being repeated to him in that soporific, honey voice. "He grinned, and everything about him was perfect," the voice dropped down to a breathy tone. "And I fell in love instantly."

Carlos almost choked on his coffee, snorting in undignified shock. A week in this town, and the perp he was trying to track down was not only stalking him, but had some sort of attraction to him?! The profilers back in Quantico would have a field day with this. "The rest of my team is here as well." the voice in his ears continued, indifferent to his internal turmoil. "I fear for you, Carlos," the voice seemed genuinely concerned. "My team, we fear for the Voice of Night Vale." he seemed to quietly tut in concern. "I fear for anyone caught between what they don't know and what they don't yet know that they don't know."

The agent shook his head, removing the headphones as the recording came to a stop. He idly twirled the ring on his left hand, the ring his father had given him when he graduated the academy (he almost snorted aloud at the memory he had intended it to be a purity ring, given that the night before Carlos had spent with his then-boyfriend (now ex) fucking like rabbits dosed with an aphrodisiac).

He twirled his ring and rocked slightly in the office chair to think. Then decided that his gurgling, empty stomach made him utterly useless for the time being, and decided that perhaps he ought to follow up on the Big Rico's lead.

It was a short walk to Big Rico's Pizza. Carlos was grateful that the college town was founded on the backs of college students requiring sustenance at odd hours of the day, and that consequently most of the stores and restaurants were open twenty-four hours. If his new admirer kept waking him up at these hours and expecting him to chase after him, he would certainly need the easy access to cheap and easy food. The door to Big Rico's opened with the ding of a bell to announce his arrival. One glance around told him what he needed to know about the restaurant: it was a popular place. A community hub, even. Even at a half-past six in the morning, there was a fair amount of people. Most of them seemed young, college students most likely. It seemed as though there was an unspoken law that the entire town had to eat there at least once a week.

He ordered a slice of vegetarian pizza (gluten free, because since a scare of tainted gluten products made for a city-wide ban on wheat and wheat by-products) from the front counter and sat down at a booth in the back. He mulled over the facts as he waited for his heart-attack-on-a-plate.

Number one: Over the course of the last five months, the Voice and his team of undetermined number had taken artifacts from more than a dozen museums in the Desert Bluffs Metropolitan and Night Vale areas, all with seemingly no trace. This says they have experience, or at least have been doing this for a very long time. Maybe he could trace prior accounts of break-ins in the last few years, to see if there was anything similar?

Number two: They were intimately close to the investigation. They understood police response times, they knew about the Bureau's involvement, and they knew about Carlos's transfer, all almost before the general public knew about Carlos's presence. The Voice of Night Vale either had a contact within the police force, or possibly was intimately involved themself.

Number three, and the more shocking of his facts: The Voice of Night Vale seemed thoroughly infatuated with him. Before the Academy, Carlos was never very good at discerning tone and diction, but in this recording it was blatantly obvious that this man-or woman, for that matter, he was taught not to apply gender to a possible suspect, or else he could miss an important detail- had some form of fascination with him. And Carlos would be lying if he wasn't interested in meeting the face that paired with the voice.

At once, he heard his name called, and a slice of pizza was sitting on the counter up front. He shook his thoughts in lieu of getting some well deserved breakfast, and retrieved the pizza. He had just taken a rather large and QUITE ignoble bite when a small noise got his attention. "Excuse me," a feminine voice, smooth as silk. "Is this seat taken?"

Carlos glanced to the source of the voice, swallowing quickly and hoping he didn't choke. A tall, slender woman stood before him, hip cocked elegantly to her left. This woman did not seem as though she belonged in this time and space. She wore a flowy dress that reached just below her knee and tapered slightly at the waist, and a string of pearls that reached down to the level of her collarbone. Both looked worn with age, as though she had worn them every day for the last several years. (Going off the increasingly unsubtle aroma of body odor, Carlos seriously considered that may be the case). She held a cigarette between her middle and index finger, flicking it nervously with her thumb every so often. The detective wasn't sure but he was reasonably sure it was a prop cigarette, or one of those new-fangled electronic ones, because it never seemed to burn down and the end looked too bright to be from a flame. "Ma'am," Carlos stated, "I'm reasonably sure that this is a non-smoking establishment."

The woman snickered, bringing the cancer-stick to her mouth in a singular, smooth motion, but not appearing to inhale. She simply flicked the cigarette as if the smoke cloud would form a middle finger. Carlos was almost certain it did. "You never answered my question, Agent." she spoke again, once the carcinogenic smoke had left the air. Carlos couldn't be certain, but he was sure there was a subtly different inflection to her voice. He quickly recognized the French accent. "Is this seat taken?"

Carlos was a careful person. Overly careful, to a point. And this woman plucked all the wrong strings of his Instincts Violin. She held a certain air about her that she held too many secrets, and that her silver tongue would only divulge what was necessary to keep a game going. Much like a cat releases a mouse, only so it can continue its sadistic hunt. However, judging solely from the fact that Carlos had next to no leads to go on, he gestured to the seat across from him.

The woman slid into the seat with an air of elegance. "You are Agent Ramon, with the FBI, non?" she rested her elbow on the table. "My name is Simone Rigedeau."

"Good to meet you, Simone," Carlos offered her his hand-once he wiped away the grease that seemed to soak from the pizza. "How can I help you, exactly?"

"You cannot," she tsk-ed him softly, "nor can you 'help' this town by being here, investigating The Voice."

Carlos quirked an eyebrow in interest. "So you know them?" he asked, "you know the Voice of Night Vale?"

She chuckled elegantly, tapping the apparently non-existent ash into an ashtray that sat beside the salt and pepper. "No," she said plainly, "I simply know of his work."

Carlos exhaled a sigh. "Right." he almost groaned, "and what is it you know of his work?"

"I know that it is not stealing if things are yours to begin with," she spoke smoothly, "have you found where the artifacts go?"

Carlos narrowed his eyes, trying and failing to read her face. "Ms. Rigadeau," he dropped his tone into a warning tone. "If you know something about The Voice of Night Vale, and you don't tell us, you could be considered an accomplice."

"I do not know where the artifacts go," she told him, locking eyes with him. "I do know, however, that he is not stealing them from Desert Bluffs. He is bringing them back."

Carlos held her gaze, despite everything in his mind and body screaming no. Even though it didn't always make for good police work, Carlos couldn't, nor did he want to fight his most basic anxiety-inducers, and therefore avoided eye contact as much as possible. Simone seemed to sense this, and blinked slowly. Carlos was grateful, and instead averted his eyes to the penciled mole over her lip. "My point is," she said, leaning back in her seat. "To stop The Voice would do our town more harm than good."

She stood, squashing her cigarette in the ashtray (when it didn't crumple, Carlos celebrated in his observation it was a fake), and smoothing out her rumpled dress. "It's been nice speaking with you, Agent Ramon." she said, "And… by the way…" she glanced over her shoulder, and glanced Carlos up and down. "You would do much better to get rid of the hat. It's rude to wear a hat indoors."

Carlos didn't realize he was still wearing it. He tentatively touched it, removing it and placing it on the table next to him as Simone sauntered out. He took a bite of pizza and his phone buzzed. He glanced. A text from an unknown number.

"SO much more attractive without the hat."

Carlos felt a prickle on the back of his neck. He typed back. "Is this the Voice of Night Vale?"

He watched his phone, taking another bite. It buzzed. "Perceptive, Carlos!" a second text came through. "Handsome AND smart! What else could I be missing out on?"

Carlos bit his bottom lip, rocking himself in a subconscious motion. After a few moments of thought, he tapped a reply. "Why don't you show yourself and you can find out?"

As his phone made the little "bwoop" noise that signified a text being sent, he heard soft footsteps next to him. "A-ah, excuse me," Carlos sighed softy. Perhaps a quiet lunch was too much to ask.

Carlos looked up at the voice. The face that accompanied the voice nearly took his breath away. If Simone Rigadeau was a femme fatale type, he didn't know what to call this man before him. He had his chin tucked close to his chest, looking over at Carlos with wide, almost doe-like eyes. He stood with his feet together, and wringing his hands in what could only be depicted as a nervous motion. This man before him had the appearance of someone eager and even plucky in any other situation, but suddenly turned to jello in this one. Carlos was as much enchanted as he was completely confused. This man was dressed in a shirt with a orange honeycomb pattern, and paired with a green paisley vest, as well as a pair of pants that looked as though they had been splattered with mauve paint on the thighs and knees, but not the shins, and topped off with a pair of sensible white sneakers speckled in violet. The term 'real world imaginary friend' came to mind. After a moment he pushed purple horn-rimmed glasses up his nose, so they were perched on the bridge of his nose and not the end. "Ah," Carlos regained his words after a moment. "Can I help you?"

The man's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Hi," he said softly, still wringing his hands, but offering a small smile, "Listen, you don't know me, but I know you."

What else is new in this town? Carlos didn't ask. "You're Agent Carlos Ramon," the beautiful man said, "M-My name is Cecil Palmer, I'm a reporter. I just wanted to ask if you happened to find any of the missing artifacts yet?"

Carlos sighed quietly. "Mr. Palmer," he said, "I'm sure you understand, but I can't disclose any details regarding the Voice of Night Vale case." He practically muttered the media's name for him in disdain.

Cecil looked mildly crestfallen, but not discouraged. "Of course, I understand," he nodded, closing his eyes thoughtfully. "You don't seem very amused. I thought I did an alright job in the name…" he sniffed slightly. "I think I had at least a little more originality than some of my coworkers… I mean, 'Night Vale's Robin Hood'? How cliché. Cancel subscription."

Carlos felt a mixture of irritation, but also intrigue. "I'm unamused by the name because once you name things, you start getting attached to them," he said, "giving a name to a criminal just encourages them. Or worse, it makes them more bold, more brazen, and more likely to hurt somebody. The fact that this suspect is a local 'media sensation' makes my job that much harder."

Cecil just looked down, looking heartbroken. "Oh," he said softly.

Carlos felt his heart sink into his stomach. Crap. he was being blunt again. "It is a good name, though," he offered, "very authorative, very..." he gestured vaguely, searching for an effective word. "Impactful."

Cecil's face seemed to flush a crimson red. "N-neat." His voice was almost a squeak.

So cute! Carlos was smitten, to the point of no words. The detective regained brain function after a moment. "You mentioned one of the names on the table was 'Night Vale's Robin Hood,'" Cecil seemed to groan at Carlos's very mention of the name. "Off the record, what exactly do you mean by that?"

Cecil seemed to pale slightly under Carlos's scrutiny. "Please, sit down, sit down," Carlos quickly added, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

"No, no," Cecil shook his head, "I'm afraid I have another lead to chase. But Carlos," he cleared his throat and corrected himself. "Agent Ramon."

Cecil locked eyes with Carlos, a deliberate action. "With a town like Night Vale, you may meet more resistance than you're expecting when it comes to our Voice." His voice almost dropped an octave, sending a chill down Carlos's spine. "Be safe."

The detective watched as he left, hips swaying subtly. "Oh, and by the way," Cecil glanced over his shoulder. "You, um. You look much better without the hat. You have perfect hair."

Before Carlos could effectively respond, Cecil had almost run away on the balls of his feet. What was it with this town and his hair? His phone beeped. He glanced down. "We can't meet yet, Carlos. A new player has entered the game, and he is a dangerous one."

Carlos narrowed his eyes in thought. "A new player?" He decided the direct approach was best. "On your team or mine?"

The response was almost instantaneous. "On their team." a moment, then another text. "Dear Carlos, we are not enemies. I am not a thief."

Carlos almost laughed. "I have fifteen open case files that state otherwise."

A few minutes passed before a response came through. "Have you found the artifacts in question yet?"

Carlos exhaled an exasperated breath through his nose. "This makes three people that have asked me about this," he typed, "what is the significance?"

Before any response came through, his phone rang. The screen flashed with the contact name "Nils". Carlos hit the green "answer" button. "Agent Ramon."

"We have a hit!" Carlos was shocked, and actually flinched when Niljana shouted into the receiver. "we've found a few of the artifacts!"

"I'll be in the office in five minutes!"

Carlos glanced down at the pizza, half eaten on the plate. Justice took precedence, he decided, picking up the half-slice and dropping it into the garbage on his way out.