#voiceofstrex

[cecilpalmcr-blog]

Me: -stares out window-

Me: when will @voiceofstrex return from the war?

[snitchiing]

Kevin in C6

[scientificinterest-blog]

Will you do Kevin in A8 for me? <33

[carlos-palmer-the-scientist]

"He still loves you..."

Carlos leaned back against the wall, staring at the station that Doug and Alisha were busy building for the Desert Bluffs radio host. Well, no. Otherworld Radio Host. This was a vast area. Someone else besides the armies and the Night Vale residents had to be here. They had to be. Right? But he’d been here so long, and getting a call or text to Cecil was... Difficult. Timing was one thing. He’d responded to texts that Cecil had sent days previously, or weeks into the future.

“He shouldn’t. I love him, but he shouldn’t. I’ve been here... We’ve been here how long?” Track of time was difficult. So difficult. Carlos already had issues keeping track of time on a normal spectrum. Night Vale time was strange, and the Otherworld was just impossible it seemed.

[milewidegrin-blog]

voiceofstrex replied to your post:"...Everything hurts."

Holy crap. That was amazing. Breathtakingly amazing. Thank you for that Dear.

//I was worried you’d be like “Nope” and leave because of how messed up it is. I’m glad you liked it! That’s a huge compliment! Thanks!

[milewidegrin-blog]

"...Everything hurts."

@voiceofstrex

Kevin didn’t like to waste time. Strexcorp’s employee manual contains the phrase “Time in Money” 126 times, and so Kevin felt that time was money, and should never be wasted. A go-getter like him had no business admiring his own reflection, no matter how inspiring his smiling face must be. This being how he felt, it was strange that after passing a mirror in his radio station, he froze momentarily. He felt like he’d seen something out of the corner of his eye, and he had. The mirror itself. For reasons he couldn’t remember, he’d ordered every single mirror in the radio station destroyed shortly after Strex’s takeover. He simply ceased all movement for a moment, and slowly took a step back to take in his features for the first time in what felt like years.

HIS EYES

His hair was perfect. For a man without a mirror, Kevin kept his hair remarkably. The only galling thing about it was that some parts seemed .  .  . different than others. A few small areas had curled hair, while most of his scalp produced his usual straight blonde hair. Somehow that detail really stood out to him. Was that really his hair? Beneath his eyes, what appeared to be metallic clamp held his skin tightly, pulling his face into a permanent and  undeniably painful looking grin. Kevin felt no pain. Kevin tried to smile, but the only way he could do that was to fully open his mouth, revealing every inch of his teeth, which were a little longer and more jagged than they should be. Is that what he looked like to other people? 

HIS EYES

For some reason, some mental block kept him from meeting his own gaze for a while, but by sheer force of will, he forced his eyes to lock onto his reflection’s. To call them eyes would not be accurate. Where his irises would be are metallic clamps, similar to the ones on his face, but tighter you could see the flesh of his eyes being pulled towards them, almost to the point of tearing. At the center of the metallic add-ons a dim light poured from tiny holes, as if the flesh of his eyeballs had been pulled over a really bright lightbulb. The part of his eyes that should be white, were a cavernous black. They reminded him of a hand placed over a lightbulb, appearing as little more than massive shadows blocking the light within. He began to feel dizzy, a painful ring in his ears. It was like he could feel the searing light behind his eyes. The terrible, all-consuming, all piercing light of the Smiling God. he tried to place a hand on his forehead, but as he did he felt an unfamiliar weight to his hand. When he finally pulled it into position, it was with a metallic squeak, like a rusty bike chain. How much of him was metal? How much of him was him?

An intrusive thought forced itself into his mind. An old thought from before. A thought he’d suppressed. Somehow the electric diodes that had been grafted onto his skull seemed to lag a second behind, dulled by his compliance for god knows how long. 10%. 10% of me is me. The rest is so, so many others. Everyone who resisted with him. Vanessa. Oh my god, Vanessa. He remembered seeing her earlier today. Always so silent, always so helpful. He remembered the feel of her skin when he shook her hand after her first day. He remembered the feeling of his teeth on her throat. He remembered laughing while she choked. He remembered the taste of her

It was only for a moment. Next thing Kevin knew, he was bleeding on the floor, and a terrified intern was standing over him. 

“I-I told you…” Kevin’s voice broke as he pulled the first of so, so many shards of the broken mirror from his face. “No mirrors in the studio.” 

Kevin rose to his feet, not hearing the metallic whine of Strex’s enhancements. Not feeling the shocks the diodes in his skull were burning into his brain. The shocks that had been slowly killing him every time he thought something he shouldn’t. He didn’t feel att the dead weight of all the friends they used to put him back together after they took him apart. All was right in the world. Kevin didn’t even feel the glass that he had embedded into his skull. The only two things Kevin felt where a sense of absolute, unquestioning joy, and a strange pressure under his eyes that he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. Kevin was reasonably certain he’d never cried before in his life, and he had no idea what that might feel like.

Everything was fine. Everything had to be. He remembered line 126 in his contract with Strexcorp. “Employees are not permitted to die without written permission. Enjoy life!” That’s exactly what Kevin did. He didn’t die. He went on enjoying his life. He was so happy.

[joisalone-blog]

@voiceofstrex

“I don’t think you have a choice.” Kevin chirped cheerfully. She couldn’t do it anymore. Of course she could. Or, she could be sent to StrexCorp Headquarters and she could be MADE to keep doing it. 

“Now don’t be upset. None of us really have a choice. We can only apply to certain places, and once we’re hired we can only do certain things. This happens to be the only thing you are good at. But you do it so well that you should be proud.”

Jolene took a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky, resigned sigh.  Her eyes tried to look anywhere other than at him. Cecil had given her the creeps, but this guy. . . This guy was beyond even the demons her paranoid mind could conjure up in her most sleepless night. Looking at him felt like looking into the eyes of death itself.

“Yeah. . . yeah, you’re right. . . I-I’m so sorry, Kevin.”

Survival. She remembered her number one priority, repeating the word again and again in her mind. Life was hard enough in Night Vale. With STrex around, and  with Kevin in charge of the station, she found she had another goal beyond surviving long enough to leave Night Vale.

(I want to stay me.)

[cecilpalmcr-blog]

✂ ~Cecil deserves to do this

Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. @voiceofstrex

  It was so warm. The dark red liquid sprayed from his double’s neck as the sharp point of the scissors sunk deep into his skin. It wasn’t until Cecil pulled the metal from his neck that the blood started spraying out. It was on his hand, his clothes. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him as his entire body shook. Kevin was still breathing, bleeding to death. With the amount of blood that seemed to be spilling from him, he wouldn’t last long. Despite the other had put him through, Cecil could only whisper… “No…” 

  He dropped to his knees beside the other man, his hands pressing against the wound. The warm blood dripped through the gaps in Cecil’s fingers. It wasn’t even slowing down. Kevin had pushed and pushed. And Cecil had been good. He was so afraid of Kevin until… Until he just snapped. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

  “Kevin… I… Hold on, okay? Just… You’re going to be alright.” He wasn’t. And it didn’t take long until there was no new blood coming from the wound. It didn’t take long until Cecil KNEW he had done what many others had. He had killed Kevin, his double. He ended another person’s life. It wasn’t like this made him free, but he would probably DESERVE whatever punishment he got. 

  He just sat there waiting. He was looking at the other. His hands were covered with blood. He was still shaking. But his pulse was starting to slow a little. Maybe he could get away… But did he deserve to?