Hey! I know it's been a while since I've updated, but I'm not abandoning this story. I've been a little preoccupied with my unpublished SPN fic, but I'll try and focus on this one a little more.

(I'm terrible, I know.)

As always, I own nothing. Enjoy!

Rachel, as it turned out, was remarkably good at running a revolutionary group. Before, the Rebel Alliance (very few of whom enjoyed being referred to as the Rebel Alliance) had been somewhat disorganised, but within two days of Rachel's arrival it had become a model of efficiency.

The subterraneans had been divided into five groups: Intelligence, Communications, Supplies, Science, and Combat, and each had a designated leader. Steve Carlsburg, who had been among the first to enter the catacombs but had previously been shunned due to some kind of feud with Cecil, was now Head Of Intelligence. Cecil was in charge of Communications, Marina lead Supplies (which was somewhat disappointing, but also a relief - she had never particularly enjoyed conflict), and Carlos, being Night Vale's only proper scientist, headed up the Science division. Rachel herself was in charge of Combat, and those under her command (including Ben and Tamika) were forbidden to discuss what went on in their training. (That's not to say they never tried to communicate this information, however; it was as though they were physically unable.)

Romantic partners were assigned to different sectors from each other to prevent distraction, and everyone was to work to the best of their abilities. Final decisions were made by a council, consisting of Rachel, Steve, Cecil, Dana, Carlos and Marina.

The revolution was running like an exceptionally well-oiled machine.

It took Science two Night Valean months (which, dear listeners, are different to outside months, although no-one knows how or why) to reverse Kevin's brainwashing, and another three weeks for him to be calm enough to be in any way useful to the revolution.

But when he was, a plan was made.

Kevin had been one of the few people StrexCorp's CEO was close to, and one of even fewer permitted into his quarters. No-one would suspect him.

It made Kevin the perfect spy, and the perfect assassin.

Everything was in place. Intelligence wired him up with cameras and a listening device created by Science, in order to acquire potentially useful information that could be broadcast by Communications, as well as give Kevin directions and prompts should this prove necessary.

Rachel smiled at the revolutionaries as Kevin and his escorts made their way out of the catacombs and assured them that everything would be fine, before clapping her hands as one would to a dog or a small child. Combat followed her into another tunnel to do whatever it was they did.

It was strange for Kevin, being back in StrexCorp's office complex after so long.

There was the research lab where so many exciting developments (or at least, what had appeared exciting before) had been made, and the conference room where so many business owners and council members had been tortured...ahem, persuaded...to merge with or sell to what had once seemed a glorious community of workers and friends. And the desk where...never mind. (Kevin flushed to think about it.)

It was like realising your parents were behind Santa's visits every Christmas. Now Kevin knew the truth, now his eyes were finally open, everything seemed flatter. The oranges and yellows of the decoration no longer seemed so warm. The white tiles and panels no longer seemed pure, just clinical and sterile. The animal viscera and pools of blood no longer looked welcoming.

The Smiling God no longer seemed like something worth believing in.

Night Vale and Desert Bluffs were.

He took pride in transmitting all he saw back to Night Vale, even going out of his way to snoop just so his comrades would have more intel.

He placed a hand on the gun concealed under his jacket as he pressed the button on his former employer's intercom.

And that, dear listeners, is where everything began to go south.

Back under Night Vale, Intelligence watched with the ever-cliched bated breath. Finn, a member of Tamika's militia, had found popcorn somewhere - no-one knew where - and they sat in front of the monitor dipping their hand into the bowl and chewing loudly as though the events unfolding were only the plot of a contrived B-movie.

They watched as the CEO invited Kevin in. They listened as the two discussed Strex plans (recording their observations, of course.)

And they watched as Kevin pulled out the gun and prepared to pull the trigger.

They saw the CEO's eyes widen in shock, and then narrow.

They heard him ask if this was really what Kevin wanted, if 'their time together' had meant nothing.

They watched Kevin lower the weapon.

'I could never shoot you, Diego.'

You see, dear listeners, whoever devised this plan had overlooked something vitally important.

Throughout history, Night Vale and Desert Bluff have always run parallel to one another - events of one will always be mirrored in the other somewhere in history.

Cecil Palmer and Kevin L'Heureux had always been intended as each other's counterpoints, that was onbious. What was less obvious was the mirror of Carlos in Diego.

Cecil would never shoot Carlos.

As above, so below.

It was in accordance with the prophecy.

Kevin flinched, before removing the bug and grinding it under his shoe.

Whether it was love, the Smiling God, or something much more ancient than either remains to be seen, but one way or another Kevin was doomed before he was ever saved.

Late that night, when everyone was sleeping, Rachel sat up and padded out of the Combat region of the catacombs.

This was not the first time it had happened. In fact, it was her practice to leave her quarters once a week in the dead of night, when no-one would hear her.

However, this was the first time she'd been caught.

As she passed Intelligence, Ella stirred in her sleep. Pure coincidence, but she opened her eyes just in time to see Rachel moving through the tunnels.

She flared, and followed. She was with Intelligence, after all. It was only natural that she follow. It was her business.

Rachel made her way back to the cavern under the radio station, climbed the ladder, lifted the trapdoor, and emerged into the world above ground. Ella could not follow, of course, for fear of being spotted, but her enhanced hearing allowed her to listen in as the woman made a phone call.

She could only hear snatches, but what she caught was horrifying.

This went beyond reporting to Tory or Steve.

She had to take this to Dana.

Cliffhangers are fun, aren't they?