Having finally found a good place to hide the vampire mirror, Mark Oxford returned to his crappy little Santa Monica apartment above Tripp's Pawn Shop. As always, he took notice of the vacancy left behind after he had disposed of the evidence in regards to the murder of his television set. Once again, he pondered what he should fill that vacancy with; not another television. That would completely defeat the purpose of killing the first one. Perhaps a plant would work; maybe a cactus that he could name Joe, or maybe name it Daisy if it's a girl. The idea that Jeanette might get jealous of a girl cactus did not even cross his mind. It was clear that Jeanette liked both boys and girls.
As usual, he was a bit surprised to realize that his radio was on; especially since he did not remember turning it on when he came in. Then he remembered that he always left it on so the apartment would seem occupied while he was out. Also, he liked the apartment to as filled with conversation as his skull cavity usually was. It was no wonder he often forgot about it altogether. Sometimes it gets hard to differentiate between the apartment and the skull cavity. While he was contemplating the cactus, Deb of Night entered the conversation.
"Hello, LA. You're listening to Deb of Night. Or, at least you are unless you happen to be in those darkened blocks of Downtown around the new federal agency building, where even as we speak a heavy presence of both security and uniforms have formed a perimeter around the facility for crowd control and the mitigation of damage caused by vandals and looters. There's a lot of speculation buzzing like angry bees around a hive on that one tonight, so whether you're lonely or lost, or just want some pillow talk before you turn in, come on in and call. I'm right here and the lines are now open."
...pay attention...
"Hey, Deb..."
"Hello there, caller!" Deb greeted. "Tell us your name and share your thoughts."
"Ummmmmmm..."
"You don't need to be shy, caller. Just take a deep breath and let it out. That's what I'm here for."
The caller took a breath and let it out. Finally he spoke; he started by saying he didn't want to give his name, to which Deb responded by asking if she could just call him George.
"Yeah, I guess that would be ok. Anyways, Deb, I just wanted to say I saw that perimeter you were just talking about, and there's something about the uniforms I wanted to mention."
"Go ahead, George."
"I think they're Navy outfits. What I want to know is why is the Navy helping an anti-terror force deal with vandals and looters?"
"Well, maybe they were just who had their hands on deck, George." Deb suggested.
...that's not it...
"Doesn't that seem a little convenient to you, Deb?" George countered, apparently finding his stride. I don't think it's anything as simple as looters or vandals. I think it's a sleeper cell trying to take the Anti-Terrorists down, and the Navy is there as reinforcement."
"Don't you think there would have been a public address if terrorists were loose in the City, George?"
"Not necessarily," George replied, getting excited. "The government could and maybe would put a gag on that news in order to avoid a city-wide panic!"
"Well, George," Deb retorted, "I don't think the government needs to worry about that. It's evident that you have the panic of the city all to yourself. Next caller..."
"Hi, Deb, it's Samantha here from down in the Pit." A woman whose voice Marko recognized as the Rose's ghoul announced.
"Well, hello there Sammie" Deb replied in that super-friendly radio voice kind of way that almost always smacks of sarcasm, yet this time somehow didn't. These two are on some level of good terms, Marko decided. "Is this call business or social?"
"I guess it's a little bit of both, really," Sammie said. "First, I'm calling to announce that Naked Fire is coming to LA to fill in for Ebola Cereal as our house band until their medical issues are resolved. Russell Norton spoke to us, and promises a whole new playlist with new tunes and several of his classic hits."
"We have some exciting news, Los Angeles!" Deb said. "A West Coast favorite from our neighbors to the north, Naked Fire, is coming to the City of Angels. You'll be able to see them live at The Pit in Hollywood for an undermined length of time, and you heard it first right here on the Deb of Night. What else was on your mind, Sammie?"
"Well, I got to thinking. You know about the protests at the other Anti-Terror building; the one in Seattle, right?"
"Yes, I do." Deb replied. "It's really quite the fascinating story."
"Yes it is," Sammie agreed. "So I was wondering if maybe this craziness Downtown is somehow related to that. What if it's another protest like in Seattle, but this one just got out of control with the blackout?"
...almost there...
"I'll be honest with you, Sammie," Deb responded in a matter-of-fact girl talk tone; "that sounds like a distinct possibility to me. I'll tell you what; I'll keep my ear to the ground on that one. In the meantime, I'm going to have to pay some bills and I've got space to fill, so I'll do it with a little of that classic Naked Fire sound."
The room was filled with music; a song that was quite the thing in the Pit awhile back. The blues riff was accompanied with a fat sounding bass with lots of flange and a simple drum beat to go along with a singer that sounded like ate an ashtray just before taking to the microphone:
Behold!
The Dirty Man!
He's got a dirty plan,
eyes full of dirty sin,
He wears a dirty grin.
Dirty?
Am I dirty?
I'm so dirty and so are you.
The pretty lies are finished now,
It's time for the dirty truth:
Everybody's dirty.
Mouth full of dirty words,
He's such a dirty bird.
He drives a dirty car,
He's got a dirty heart.
He wears a dirty shirt,
lives in a dirty world,
He's got a dirty mind,
it's just like yours and mine.
Dirty?
Am I dirty?
I'm so dirty and so are you.
The pretty lies are finished now,
It's time for the dirty truth:
Everybody's dirty.
The song was followed by two or three commercials.
"Hello, L.A. and welcome back to the Deb of Night. It is way past your bedtime, so if you're listening I'm sure you have a lot on your mind. The lines are now open, so go ahead and pick up the phone and give me a call." Deb invited; somehow the invite always sounded just a little bit more than a little provocative. Marko guessed that was intentional.
...you think...?
"Shut up" he said with his outside voice, surprising himself a little. Maybe the Bad Voice activity was getting to him than he realized. The Network really had to do something about It.
...push back...
...make It not like it here...
"Good idea" he agreed. Of course that was only part of the solution; they also had to get It into the mirror. That would probably mean seeing Tabby Cat. That would be the tricky part, especially since so many in the Network wanted to skin her.
"You're on the air, Gomez!" Deb greeted. "Don't keep us in suspense, Gomez. What's the latest big angle you have for us tonight?"
"Good evening, Deb." Gomez said, sounding very somber. Almost instantly Marko could detect hints of a lot of talk therapy and a good dose of medication in his inflections; it was difficult to determine exactly what medication over the radio waves, but it was clearly of a prescription type. "First, I want to apologize for wasting so much of your time on your show while in my manic state of mind over past few years. I assure you now that I have been seeing a professional and taking my meds as prescribed. What I'm about to tell you; tell the whole city, really, is based on real information I obtained from a real source who's legitimately in the loop on the matter I am about to touch upon."
...here it comes...
"That's good to know, Gomez." Deb replied, her tone changing; it went from her signature sarcasm to one that suggested she genuinely wanted to hear what Gomez wanted to say.
...playing nice for X...
"Okay. Good. Now I need everyone to listen very carefully. This is about those protesters in Seattle, which is very likely related to the bedlam going on Downtown even as we speak. My source, which has asked to remain anonymous, has the inside scoop that these so-called Anti-Terrorists are really a conglomeration of elite soldiers with an agenda to gradually turn our nation into a Police-State. Through them, the government and the corporations they answer to are surreptitiously and quietly exercising a policy of Martial Law. I know it sounds no different than any of the other stuff I have said on the air before, but I want you all to think about it. The Facilities are set up, and all of the sudden the homeless population on the West Coast drops down to next nothing; it's not because these people suddenly have homes and jobs, either. They're just gone. Then the same Federal agency has PR people telling us they have been housed for their own protection, yet nobody knows where they are. The reality is they have been taken off the streets as a means of removing the chaff." He paused there, as if it to let that idea sink in.
"Go on" Deb said, as if interested.
"My source also claims that one homeless couple actually escaped the facility in Portland, Oregon and started talking about bizarre medical experiments. No sooner than they started getting any attention, they get silenced. My bet is that a week from we'll see that same couple either dead of a drug overdose or living like royalty somewhere after some kind of big pay off. Before long, we'll be seeing business getting raided as 'suspected terrorists' and little by little our basic civil rights and liberties will get compromised to a greater and greater level."
"I can't believe I'm about to say this." Deb said. "You know what, Gomez? I think I'm starting to believe you; or at least that you might be on to something, based on how well that fits with similar reports that have come across my desk."
"Really?" he asked, shocked that he wasn't getting dismissed and hung up on.
"Really." She confirmed.
"Then maybe you'd agree that something has to be done to put a stop to it; for the good of every free citizen of the United States of America. Don't get me wrong, Deb, I'm not advocating what's going on Downtown at all. What I mean is that what they're doing in Seattle seems like a really good idea right about now."
"Well, look at that!" Deb interjected. "I'd love to continue this chat with you, Gomez, but I have to interrupt you for just a second. No sooner than you start talking about taking action and protests do I get a message online for those interested in setting up a forum on the subject. For those interested, you can go to the Keep LA project at..." Deb read off a domain page a couple of times and then played another song; this one was about a parade.
Curious, Marko booted up his system and checked the site. Sure enough, it was a forum. He recognized some of the names on it: VegaX, Knockknocks, Mad Hatter, Fat Larry, Sin Bin, SammieJ, and Romero were all on there. The list growing, too; even Therese and Jeanette were on there. Maybe one gave the other permission through the mirror. Marko wondered briefly which one had the Body right now; most likely Jeanette; she could easily have stuck Therese on the list regardless of whether Therese knew it or not.
...the Prime Rose set this up well...
...Shiny Rock is slowly getting dim...
That was good to know. Now he could focus his own issue with the Bad Voice.
...she saw...!
...they think they know...!
...Troubletroubletroubletrouble...
That wasn't so good. Tabby Cat was smart; so smart it was a little bit scary. If Ox in the Box was right, then the Bad Voice was even smarter and stronger than even Tabby Cat could hope to understand. Marko had a moment of disturbing clarity that made him see just how deep down the rabbit hole he really was.