A voice in the night; Who: Vicki Vale (Open to Reactions) NPCs: — When: February 2, late night Where: Radios. What: Vicki uses the radio show under the pseudonym "V" to let citizens of Gotham know that someone is fighting for them again. Rating: Low
Vicki walked with a purpose, as if she knew where she was going. Because she did. She knew exactly where she was going and in a place like this rundown part of town, you had to walk that way. If you stopped and lingered for too long, it opened you up for getting hurt or even just bothered. Gotham wasn't always this way, or so she'd been told, and Vicki had a small glimpse of what it was like before the city went dark. Cell phones fried, electric cars died in the middle of the road and by now were either picked apart for their pieces or shoved to the side of the road and gathering dust or rust, some people used them as homes for the cold winter nights. It wasn't much, but better than sleeping on a street corner or in an alley.
Her sneakers padded on the pavement in light footsteps, dusk settled in and gave the town an eerie orange glow. She'd seen images like this in magazines. Half abandoned streets and people just trying to survive every day. Now she was living in it and there wasn't a day that passed that she worried it would escalate into something far more dangerous. From what she knew the villains locked up in Arkham stayed on their own little island. Some said that the Joker ran the place now and the others there subject to his order, others said it was a constant turf war and that they were safe so long as they were too busy fighting amongst themselves to care about getting off the island. Vicki Vale had seen what war was like, she'd seen a nation succumb to the chaos of panic and fear, of hostility and madness. Things were bad when everything went dark at first, and they weren't much better than they'd been then.
But Vicki knew that there was more to this city than the sorry state it was in. There were those that remembered Gotham as she was before, and she knew that they did. It was why she walked this way every day, pretending to be visiting a friend in an antique shop that sat on a forgotten corner in a long lost part of town. There were places like this in Gotham, long since unused and people seemed to forget it even existed. Vick would've never known about it had it not been for a co-worker at the Gazette who told her about it. His family was in the city for generations and so he knew every inch and corner better than anyone else.
She walked through the front door of the shop, pulling the hood down to expose her sunkissed blond hair. The Vicki Vale that most people knew was always put together, her hair combed and styled, her clothing professional, and seemingly untouchable. A face for the screen but she hid behind a column, and now she was hiding in a small building where she put her secret women to work.
She made her way past the owner who looked up and nodded to the casually dressed woman. Jeans and a sweatshirt with another jacket over top and a scarf. Winter was always chilly in Gotham and you had to be dressed to face it. In the building it wasn't too much warmer and the heat was only turned onto to stop them from shivering all the time. Energy was conserved, rationed even, and that energy they saved was put into what lay in the basement.
Down the steps Vicki descended with a flashlight in her hand, lighting her way to flip a switch and turn on the dim light above. The equipment for the old radio station came to life and began warming up, slowly but surely. Vicki kept her sweatshirt on but took her jacket off. Seconds after her arrival her friend from the paper arrived. The broadcast would start soon and this wasn't a one-woman show, it was a team effort.
There was a bit of talking beforehand, some chatter about what was going to be discussed on that night's show. It was always that way, the routine didn't change. They needed to make each night worth listening to and to let people know that they were there. Since they first started airing, Gotham Hope had been on every night without fail. As dusk settled into night
She sat in the seat and slipped on the headphones with the mic before her. She could hear nothing for now, but then her friend's voice came through, "You ready, V?" She looked at him through the window and nodded. He counted down on his hands till he came to the one and the "On Air" sign above the window lit up in red.
"Good evening, faithful listeners," she spoke into the mic that purposely changed her voice, "This is V again and welcome to Gotham Hope." Every night her voice would come on over the airwaves. While things like cell phones were good for nothing more than spare parts, radios had made a come back. They were easy to make and they didn't use too much battery. Over the past few years each home in Gotham found themselves with a radio, and one by one, they began tuning into this show.
She ran through the state of the city, talking about the things that mattered to people. Of the crimes committed, but also words of encouragement. And then she got to the juice.
"Word has it there's someone starting to fight back," she spoke with a curl to it, "It seems only heroes wear masks, or so that's the rumor floating around. The Marauders had their feathers ruffled as the someone that sounded an awful lot like a city legend back from the shadows gave them a bit of a beating. While it's only a single sighting, people are already talking." It was all she spoke of the incident from the night before, because it was all she knew. Vicki was intrigued herself on whoever it might be, but it was only a passing interest. She just hoped that if this person was running around with a mask and beating up gang members, that he, or she, wasn't a member of another gang looking to spread their footing and start another gang war. That was the last thing this city needed, it already felt like it was sitting on the edge of a knife.
"Good night, Gotham," she said in closing, "stay strong, keep fighting, it's your city, not theirs." The sign flashed off, the feed died, and Vicki turned off the mic for good measure. The show itself usually lasted about 15-20 minutes at the most, but sometimes that was the best 15-20 minutes a person could hear in a day. She rolled back away from the desk and then grabbed her jacket. She had a walk home, because, believe it or not, the newspaper was still open. She had an early morning, but at least she knew she could sleep well.