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Fandom: Rise of the Guardians (2012 movie), Welcome to Night Vale
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: After all, what was one more shadowy abomination to a town already chock-full of them? Originally posted at AO3.
It took him six months to break out of the lair that had become his prison. At one point, it had been his refuge, a place to retreat to and plot his return to power. Now, it was nothing more than a prison filled with very hungry, very bored Nightmares. It was enough to drive a man crazy.
Well, crazier.
But six months after his imprisonment in the hole in the ground, Pitch Black realized that he'd found a way out. It really wasn't very much, just a little spot where the dirt wasn't especially impacted- if he scratched at it with his hands, the dirt would shower down onto him and make him sneeze, so he figured that with a little effort, he might be able to tunnel out. The Nightmares, perhaps sensing that this could be their ticket to get out of this place, mostly left him alone while he worked. In fact, they would sometimes get agitated when they realized that Pitch had been away from the spot for a period of time, and try to herd him back towards it like they would an unruly foal.
Pitch wished he had a better way to communicate with them. Once upon a time, he'd been able to speak to them directly, but the loss of his powers had affected that, and he no longer had any amount of control over the dark horses. He could definitely understand the Nightmares' desire for freedom, but he couldn't risk moving too quickly and attracting the attention of the Guardians. Better to move a little slower and endure a bit more time imprisoned than to move too quickly and find himself trapped in a different prison... one that might not be so easy to escape from.
Eventually, about a month after his discovery, Pitch completed his “escape tunnel.” After finishing, he peeked his head through the opening, just to make sure that the coast was clear. Once he determined that it was safe, he fled that hellish hole in the ground, swearing that he would never return.
Then, he realized that he had a problem. He didn't have anywhere else to go.
The fact that, in general, humans couldn't see him would give him a small measure of protection, but it wouldn't hold out forever. Eventually some snot-nosed brat would notice him and mention the creepy dude with gray skin and yellow eyes lurking around in the shadows to their friends. And if that happened, it was only a matter of time before the Guardians heard the rumors and put two and two together. Or even worse, one of the more mobile Guardians would stumble across him and all hell would break loose.
He couldn't stay where he was, but he also couldn't go elsewhere. Pitch Black was well and truly stuck.
And then the answer came in the form of a random discarded bit of newsprint, blown into the clearing he occupied by the wind.
The article was about a small town in the Southwestern United States where strange things kept happening. Catastrophic natural disasters seemed to happen on a daily basis, only to be hushed up by the town's government, which was more secretive than North Korea on a particularly paranoid day. There were a large number of unexplained deaths and disappearances connected to the town, possibly numbering into the thousands, again, all hushed up by the local government. Any attempts to ask the local people about these strange events usually ended with the townspeople flatly denying everything, staring blankly off into space, or becoming frightened and running away. Also, people who got too involved with the town and deciphering the mysteries that surrounded it tended to disappear as well.
In other words, it was the perfect place for a shadowy abomination like himself.
The town was called Night Vale, and by all rights, it was a perfectly picturesque desert hamlet at first glance. At least, it was until Pitch literally saw a woman get vaporized by a gun-toting mutant goose. Oddly, no one seemed to question the presence of a gun-toting, mutant goose in the town, or that it was seemingly killing random citizens because it felt like it. That was... different. No one around seemed to think it was anything out of the ordinary, either. In fact, most seemed to regard it as a minor annoyance, that someone had been murdered by homicidal, armed waterfowl. “Well, damn,” a teenage boy muttered to his friend. “Amber was supposed to cover my shift tonight! I need to go to Big Rico's! I forgot, and tonight is the seventh day!”
“Naah, don't worry about it bro. I got your back,” the teen's friend said, before changing the subject. “Did you listen to the radio last night? Why does Cecil keep bringing up the... you-know-what? He's gonna get himself killed! Oh, excuse me,” he said, stepping consciously around Pitch, who blinked. Did that kid just...? “I didn't see you there.”
Pitch quickly learned that apparently, people in Night Vale were able to see him with no trouble. He wasn't sure if it was because they all believed in the Boogeyman, or if it was just because the town itself was so weird. From what he could tell, the town's population included a kid with two heads, a couple of angels- wings and everything- an apparently every-growing population of mysterious figures wearing hooded robes, a public radio host who seemed to have tentacles and three eyes, and a fairly large minority population of somewhat-sapient tarantulas. The radio host also was very friendly and outgoing, and enthusiastically introduced himself to Pitch the first time he saw him, and offered to help him find a place to live.
Pitch really didn't know how to process all of this. Normally, people couldn't see him, and if they could, they usually ran away like bats out of hell. Never would he ever have expected for anyone to offer to help him, let alone actually advocate that he live in the same place as them. So, hesitantly, Pitch agreed. Night Vale's strange municipal codes made it possible for people to live in holes in the ground, or abandoned construction trailers, or even storefronts that burned to the ground decades ago. With the eccentric radio host's help, Pitch moved into a construction trailer at the bafflingly-named Waterfront District. Exactly what the people in charge of naming things in this town were thinking was a mystery, considering that there was no waterfront anywhere for miles in the arid, dry, desert climate.
“Now that you have somewhere to live, you'll need to look into getting a job! The City Council frowns on unemployment, you know, you really don't want to upset them. It wouldn't look good... And make sure you go to Big Rico's pizza once a week. Also, don't use pens, they're banned here. Wheat gets quarantined, too. Oh! Later tonight, I'm going to get some coffee with Carlos. Maybe you've seen him around? The beautiful, perfect scientist? You should come too, I'll introduce you! Ah, before I forget, do not go near the dog park. I probably shouldn't even be mentioning it in the first place, but someone does need to warn you about it.” Despite his calm and collected on-air persona, Cecil in person was as bouncy and hyperactive as a kid in a candy store. He also seemed genuinely interested in Pitch, and didn't even bat one of his three eyes when Pitch, attempting to frighten him off, flat-out told him he was the Boogeyman.
“So?” Cecil had said. “Old Woman Josie out by the used-car lot talks to angels. Bob Kanno is a zombie. We have a five-headed dragon around here somewhere, and I'm pretty sure Barb Sorokova is a vampire. I have tentacles! You really think people around here are going to be afraid of the Boogeyman? If anything they'll wonder why it took you so long to move in!”
“But... isn't anyone here afraid of anything?” Pitch asked, almost in desperation. “Are they crazy?” For the first time in quite a while, Pitch Black wasn't sure of what to make of a group of humans. Or humanoids, whatever- nothing about this town was normal, but surely they had some sense of self-preservation, right? What was wrong with this town, that they would just be totally fine with a monster moving into their midst?
“Not at all,” Cecil said warmly. “We're not going to kick you out because you're different! Desert Bluffs might, but we're not Desert Bluffs! And make sure to listen to my show tonight at 9, okay?”
And so, just like that, the Boogeyman became a part of that picturesque desert community. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea that the town had ever had, but considering the sorts of things that happened daily in Night Vale, having one more shadowy figure around barely made a difference.
/END
