BLACKOUT LOG, BACKDATED [open]

[youbarium]

WHO| Carlos and you -- specifically paging MCU!Bucky, Clara Murphy, Aang, and Kankri! Cecil will be present but groups of people make him nervous, so he'll mostly be hanging back.
WHAT| Carlos uses the blackout to spread the good word about the rebellion
WHEN| During the three hours of no power
WHERE| The Night Vale store and the area just outside of it.
WARNINGS| A description of fake gore, but other than that, nothing yet

Carlos and Cecil were shut in the Night Vale store when the lights went out.

Carlos had listened to the broadcast intently, mouth a tight line, worry furrowing his brows as he gazed handsomely into the middle distance, careful not to miss a word -- and then, all at once and with a great shudder, light dropped away from the world, and everything was dark.

Dark, and silent, Carlos noticed: with the ever-present hum of electricity gone, the white noise he had grown used to left a quiet that seemed to press against his eardrums.

But as the seconds ticked by, he found that it was not entirely quiet at all. He could hear his own breathing, and Cecil's. Neither was it entirely dark: as his eyes adjusted, he noticed that things in the Night Vale store had begun to glow. The Arby's sign, for one, and the lights above it. There was a Shape near the front that gave off a dim but angry red light. Other things, too, on the Desert Bluffs side, glowed a sick yellow. All of it together, Carlos realized, was enough to see by.

When someone walks by the front, Carlos can see them. If it's someone he knows, he'll hiss a psssst! and motion them over to talk to him through the grate. If it's someone he doesn't -- well, he'll try not to catch their attention, but this store is one of the only light sources on level three. It might attract attention anyway.

Oh, and one more thing: be careful not to slip. The floor under the grate is covered in mostly-dried blood -- fake, being sold on the Desert Bluffs side. There are teeth in it, and a severed hand, and thick clumps of congealed viscera. It looks like at least two people were brutally murdered here; at least, that's how it looks in the daytime. It might be hard to see in the dark.

Comments

[tookthewheel]

Psssst!

Bucky halts and turns his head slowly towards the dark entrance of the Night Vale store, though not as dark as many others due to the glow-in-the-dark merchandise. He's cautious, uncertain of who has hailed him and sets a hand on the hilt of one of his knives as he approaches the grate, keeping his voice low when he asks.

"Who's there?"

He's ready to duck or move at any second.

[youbarium]

"It's me!" comes the whisper from behind the grate. "Carlos. The scientist," he adds helpfully. Carlos knows Bucky won't be able to see much -- his silhouette, at most -- but he's still peering intently at Bucky, his face inches from the metal.

"I'm in here!"

[tookthewheel]

Bucky didn't require the full identifier but he does appreciate it. The use of actual words rather than a hissed sound of attention clue's him into the mystery figures voice and has him coming right up to the shuttered door (ignoring the mess on the floor), squinting in the dim light at Carlos within.

"Hello." it's the first time they've met since the Peacekeeper cells, Bucky dimly registers he's pleased to see him still living.

[youbarium]

"Hi," Carlos whispers, and if Bucky listens, he might hear the small smile. Carlos is glad to see him, too.

"Listen, the cameras are off right now but I don't know how long that's going to last, so I need to make this quick. You're a friend of Steve's, so I figure I can trust you.". Carlos's hands close around the metal gate as he leans closer. "Has Steve told you anything about District 13?"

[tookthewheel]

The cameras are off, that's right. Nothing they do until the power comes back on is seen by the Capitol.

It's a shame he is stuck in the arena now, or he might have taken great advantage of that fact.

"No." he answers, curiously. "I thought there were only twelve districts."

[youbarium]

He'll have to give Bucky the short version.

Carlos draws in a breath and opens his mouth to speak, and then remembers that he is terrible at the short version.

"Well, 13 is..."

He always has been: putting things into layman's terms is nearly impossible for Carlos.

"The Capitol--"

Come on. He's made this speech so many times. He should be able to breeze through it by now.

"You see--"

Instead, there's a moment of awkward stammering as Carlos is utterly lost for where to begin.

"...aagh, the rebellion's in District 13," he finally blurts out in a loud, exasperated whisper.

[seestheman]

Clara knows it would probably be in her best interest to quickly cobble together a plan. Instead, she wanders the top floor and just enjoys the darkness and the relative quiet. Or she does until she hears a sound coming from a storefront she's walking past, making her stop dead in her tracks. She could turn tail and run, but there's something about that voice that's oddly familiar. "Who's there?"

Hopefully if it's someone who wants her head, she can escape them faster than they can find a way out of the store.

[youbarium]

"It's me. Carlos," he whispers, knowing full well how unclear a whispered it's me in near total darkness can leave a situation. "I'm in here, Clara."

[seestheman]

Clara approaches the gate cautiously, trying to stay slightly out reach, just in case it isn't actually Carlos and instead is someone who's astoundingly good at imitating him. "Hey, how are you holding up?"

[youbarium]

"Pretty good," he whispers back. "Surprisingly good, actually. No one's found us in here yet, because it locks at night, and during the day it's -- oh, make sure you don't slip," he warns her. "There's blood, and hair, and some teeth out there."

[seestheman]

Clara isn't sure if she should ask. On one hand, she's definitely curious about those things got to a place where she should slip on them, but on the other hand, considering the Arena, she isn't sure if she wants the potentially graphic descriptions. "Do I want to know who it came from?" Probably not, but the question's already out there.

Maybe right now would be a good time to change the subject as she tries not to play slip-n-slide with the blood and various other parts.. "Why did you call me over anyway?"

[privilegecheck]

Kankri's going around looking for people he knows, now that he can take this opportunity of knowing they'll be able to speak in private. Still, it's a little nervewracking since they're still in the arena, even if trolls have the advantage of night vision. When he hears a quiet pssssst he just about jumps out of his skin, but when he looks over and recognizes the person gesturing to him that surprise is replaced with guilt.

He and Carlos have not met, but he knows who Carlos is - of course he knows, Carlos is incredibly important to Cecil. Poor Cecil. He'd thought his friend would be safe with him and Venus and instead, he'd only put him in more danger. He comes over to the grate.

"Carlos, isn't it?" He keeps his voice soft so others won't hear and find him crouching out here. "Is everything all right? Is- is Cecil all right? I'm so sorry, I didn't know Venus would...I thought I was helping him."

[youbarium]

Carlos recognizes Kankri, of course: he knows the names of all the trolls. This is one of the red trolls, if he remembers right, and Carlos usually does.

"Cecil's fine," Carlos whispers. "At least, as fine as someone who's injured, malnourished, and recovering from avox conditioning can be. But he's alive and he's talking, so...that's good." He glances behind him. "He's asleep right now, actually, or I'd tell him you were here. I can pass on the apology, though."

Carlos isn't angry with Kankri. He's still pretty ticked at Venus, though.

[privilegecheck]

"Thank you," Kankri whispers, his shoulders slumping in relief. "I'd appreciate that. I'm so glad to hear he's recov- wait, you said talking? What happened? I didn't know that was- was possible, here in the Arenas." Not that he's anything but happy to hear it, but he'd rather thought that muting Avoxes was not something that simply got better.

He kneels down beside the grate so his silhouette is smaller and less noticeable. "And, er, did you need me for something? Since you called me over here."

[youbarium]

"Usually, it isn't," explains Carlos. "But I -- when I found him, I replaced his vocal cords." He doesn't sound awkward, just matter of fact; in his world, this is a routine procedure all scientists know how to perform on themselves. "Luckily, they didn't take out his tongue, just paralyzed his voice box, so I was able to put in a new set, easy. He's doing a lot better now. Anyway," he goes on without missing a beat, "with the power out, the cameras are off, so I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to know some things the Capitol doesn't want you to know."


He's going to wait for a reply before going on: if Kankri doesn't want to know, that's completely understandable. Knowing these things is risky, after all.

[fiercestwarrior]

The prickling sensation at the back of her neck is one that centuries of warfare have taught Sif not to ignore.

Someone is watching her.

She stops as the surface under her feet turns slick, and she looks down, squinting to try and see what the dark puddle she has stepped in is. Could it be blood? That would hardly be surprising or unexpected, considering what sort of place this is.

Has she walked into an ambush?

"I know you're there."

It's a bluff, it's not as if one can call a prickling sensation any kind of proof.

[youbarium]

There's a sharp intake of breath and a shuffling from behind the grate of one of the stores. The figure behind it, the one that's silhouetted against the dim glow of the weird red pyramid, has stood up and stepped back, away from the grate.

He says nothing, but Sif might recognize the lab coat. Carlos is always wearing the lab coat. Who else would be wearing a lab coat in the arena?

[fiercestwarrior]

"I mean you no harm."

It is the truth, at least unless Carlos decided to change her mind about that by attacking her or something.

Sif holds up her hands in a placating gesture, showing that she is not holding any weapons.

[youbarium]

There's a long moment of silence.

"I'd just like to point out," says Carlos, loud enough for her to hear but too quiet to carry far, "before we go on, that any attempt to break in here is going to make a lot of noise." Implied was that noise would draw other Tributes, and Sif, being outside the cage, would be much more vulnerable than Carlos.

He doesn't know her, and he doesn't trust other Tributes not to take advantage of the blackout. After what happened with Venus, Carlos doesn't even trust the people he does know.

[fiercestwarrior]

"I won't try to break in, you have my word."

If nothing else because it is possible that she will get herself horribly disemboweled if she tries, if the blood on the floor is any indication, though she does thing it doesn't smell quite right to be blood. Could it be fake? Some sort of ruse to scare people off?

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil's breathing in the silence is much quicker than it had been. Eva's broadcast brings back memories that are cruel, and recent. It makes him think of his own broadcast. It makes him frightened, and guilty by association, and deeply, deeply sad.

"People are going to get hurt," he says quietly, into the silence. It's uncomfortable, to hear his voice sound so loud; but he's been getting better. It's not as hard as it used to be. "The Capitol and the Arena will be... well. Much less different than they were."

He's afraid not only for himself, but for the people of the Capitol. It is difficult, because he also fears for the Tributes who will undoubtedly take advantage of this momentary freedom. He is... just sort of generally afraid for everyone, right now.

[youbarium]

He couldn't deny it.

Carlos looked over at Cecil, sideways, quietly.

"I know," he said, and though it wasn't much more than a whisper, it felt too loud. "Cecil -- a lot of people are going to get hurt, before this is over. There's no stopping it."

He clearly wasn't happy about that. As a scientist, and as a person, Carlos was opposed to war. However, he could not deny that it was coming -- that it had already begun. What he was saying was nothing more or less than an ugly truth.

[void_whereprohibited]

It was impossible for Cecil not to imagine himself in the Capitol. If circumstances had been only a little bit different - if things had not happened exactly as they had happened - he would likely be there now. Lost, disconnected, unable even to report on the incident. He would probably have mentioned it on his show two days later, and forced himself to sound unconcerned about it.

It was a sad kind of freedom, not to have to pretend to be unconcerned now.

"I know that, Carlos," he said, heavily. Resignedly. (It came out with slightly less gravity in Punchy's voice, but he was getting used to the sound of it.) He didn't usually think of it in such terms (had been conditioned not to think of it in such terms), but really, he was one of the ones who had been hurt. He was as much a casualty of this conflict as those who would inevitably suffer in the Capitol in the next few hours.

He wasn't sure what else to say, and so tentatively, he reached for Carlos' hand. Holding Carlos' hand was something he'd done a lot of in the last few days; but it still felt a little bit like an intrusion, instigating it himself.

[youbarium]

Their hands met in the dark. Carlos took Cecil's hand wordlessly, warmly, and held it.

The darkness was comforting, Carlos came to realize: he had spent so much time these past nine months being under the light, being under scrutiny, being watched, that this stretch of quiet darkness felt right in a way that the Capitol didn't. His breaths came quieter, deeper than they were before. He knew they were not safe, but the darkness was like a cocoon: the twig they hung from might be breaking in the storm outside, but here, they could not hear it. And wasn't that the way the world worked? Humanity hurtled through space at an incredible velocity, barely clinging to the side of a giant ball of molten rock, depending so heavily on the exact conditions of its gases and its liquids, heedless of how fragile their existence truly was.

Safety was an illusion. But a comforting illusion, like the dark.

Why, how long had it been since Carlos could be sure no one was watching him? Nearly two years now, he mused.

...wait.

No one was watching him.

His eyes lit up, and he whirled around to face Cecil properly, on his knees now, still holding Cecil's hand.

"Cecil," he said, quick and earnest, "Cecil, the whole power grid is down. That means that the cameras are off. Look -- I don't know how much time we'll have, but there's something I need to tell you. Something important."

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil's eyes were open wide in the darkness, though the attempt to make it less dark was useless - there was only so much light available for the many small complicated parts of his eyes to process, and Carlos was still only a vague shape, dark against a bigger darkness.

There was, of course, a stab of fear at The cameras are off. It was still difficult not to feel somehow guilty for being unobserved. But stabs of fear were commonplace, were becoming almost wearyingly familiar, like guests who had overstayed their welcome. (Guests who enjoyed putting their hands around his throat at intervals and screaming into his face - those kinds of guests.)

But he swallowed it down and made himself say, in a voice that was a perfectly reasonable level of anxious-- "Oh?"