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The late afternoon sun shone brightly over Night vale. It was an especially hot day, even within the disused grain silo at the edge of town, where Kasper Rhodes now resides. He, being half mink, was especially not used to the heat, but had to make sure everything was running smoothly regardless, as he sure as hell wasn’t letting anyone else into his silo. He gripped a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, checking off boxes on a survey sheet as he went on. Usually, Kasper wouldn’t be this thorough, as he would usually just briefly glance at the brains. However, with the local radio host being all suspicious of him, he had to make sure everything was running perfectly.
Kasper sighed, staring up at one of the frozen brains. He was extremely tired, and not to mention, rather sweaty, even in spite of the fact that he had long since taken his top off. Despite his extreme discomfort, he had a job he needed to finish before sleeping, he was determined. He leaned his back against the tank he was surveying, still continuing to check off his observations. The direct contact between his bare skin and the cold glass of the tank provided some relief, even if just a little.
Kasper was just about ready to resume his survey, when he was suddenly jolted back into awareness by a noise coming from outside. It wasn’t just any noise however, it was a voice, but not just any voice, it was the voice of Night Vale himself, Cecil. Kasper’s ears twitched in an attempt to listen in on what Cecil was saying, but they quickly folded back into his head after he heard the clanging of a lock. It didn’t take him long to realize Cecil was at the lock. Kasper hissed, realizing there was nothing he could do to stop Cecil. All he could do was watch. Quickly, he threw his clipboard and pen behind the tank he was at, before running to the back of the silo and climbed up the furthest tank. Just then, the doors creaked open.
Cecil cautiously pushed the doors of the disused grain silo at the edge of town open. He didn’t trust a word of what that “Kasper Rhodes'' guy, whoever he was, was saying, and he was not just about to let more of his town fall victim to this obvious scam.
“Listeners, I am opening the heavy, metal doors.” Cecil said into his portable recording rig, as he slowly stuck his head into the silo. “Inside, it is dark, even in this late afternoon sun. I am stepping in. My eyes are adjusting and…” for a moment he paused, thinking he saw eyes in the form of a faint glow on top of one of the tanks, staring at him from the darkness, but as his eyes adjusted better, it appeared to just be some very strange looking part of the machinery. He couldn’t quite tell however, as he couldn’t see very far. He took another step forward, gasping in amazement at what he saw.
Kasper narrowed his eyes as Cecil stepped in. The radio host had been nothing more than a nuisance to him, insulting his business and making the people of Night Vale distrust him. He hissed quietly, keeping his eyes on Cecil as he took another step forward.
“OH MY GOD!” The radio host shouted, causing both Kasper’s ears and antennae to flinch. “LISTENERS, OH MY GOD!” He continued, his voice still loud but slightly lower. Kasper frowned upon hearing the mention of “listeners”. Of course Cecil was broadcasting this. He sighed, trying to quickly come up with better security measures in case others decided to follow in the radio host’s footsteps of breaking in. However, his train of thought was quickly broken as Cecil continued. “There are tanks full of… frozen, intact human brains, attached to various support equipment. It is all completely clean and seemingly running well.” At this, Kasper smiled. He knew he had done a good job making sure everything was in order, but it felt especially good having that affirmed by his current biggest skeptic. “This… this isn’t a scam. The great Kasper Rhodes is telling the truth!” Kasper smiled even wider, trying his best to stifle a laugh, whilst his torn nub of a tail wagged behind him. Cecil finally believed him, and he felt victorious.
At this point, Kasper had pretty much zoned Cecil out completely. He was still perched atop one of the tanks near the back, except now he was lying on his stomach with his legs in the air, kicking them back and forth whilst smiling widely, like a schoolgirl who just got a text back from her first crush. He had almost forgotten about the radio host entirely, until a sudden CRASH brought him back into reality.
As he heard the noise, Kasper’s head shot up. He looked towards the door, only to see Cecil sprinting out. He then noticed something on the ground, around where Cecil had been standing (which, he thought, must've been the source of the crash). Curious, the half mink hopped down from his perch and made his way over to the large object. Upon further inspection, the object in question appeared to be a portable recording rig, one with straps that appeared to be for wearing it almost like a backpack. Kasper crouched down and picked it up. It was quite hot, having most likely not only been in the mid afternoon heat for quite a while, but also had been running. It hurt to hold, however, he didn’t seem to mind too much.
Around 5 minutes passed, and Kasper was still holding the equipment, despite his burning hands desperately screaming at him to drop it. Almost out of nowhere, he began laughing, the rig still in hand. Whether it be from the searing pain in his hands or because the utility of the device just occurred to him was unclear. But regardless, in his mind, he had won, and that’s all that mattered to him.