![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
naughty-bangles.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: Kamikaze
Fandom: Original
Words: 645
Warnings: Mention of murder, but nothing descriptive.
Rating: PG13
Prompt 432 kamikaze
All this work, and all she had gathered was circumstancial at best. How disappointing. How frustating, too, because it meant she couln't do anything, and it was driven her crazy. They had to pay for what they did.
True, the lead was tenuous to begin with. Clare had stumbled upon it a couple of months ago, a little discrepancy in a story she was working on. It hadn't even been alarming, a small thing that most people would have frown upon, but not investigate later on. Except she wasn't most people, and she liked her stories to be solid as steel, unassailable from any outsider. It made her the great reporter she was as much as her instinct in finding the worthy news, the right angle. Her thouroughly acurate stories had brought her to the silver screen, had given her her fame and status and all the perks they bring along.
That little discrepancy had to be investigated, if only for her peace of mind. That's when she put her usual sources at work that things began to get weird. She had been working for a long time, now, and she had quite a wide net of informants, people in different flavors of shady that knew how to find the detail she needed, or didn't know she needed yet. And yet, this time, nothing. Well, next to nothing, but a "next" worthy of attention. Most of Clare's sources didn't find anything, and reported back, same as usual, and that was it. But one of them reported having found nothing, not because there wasn't anything to find, but because someone – probably several "someone" – didn't want him to find anything. Isidro wasn't scared per se, but the whole thing had made him uneasy, and she hadn't press the point further. That is, until it began clear that Kip wasn't going to report back.
Even if she hadn't discovered, by the time she had figured out most of the story, that they had hurt and killed dozens of innocent people, she would had come after them, if only for what they had done to Kip. He wasn't a saint, that was for sure, but he was mending his ways, and doing a great job at it. He didn't deserve what they did to him, the way his body was left and found days later. For that they had to pay, and for many, many other lives they had destroyed.
She had had to be careful after that. She couldn't pretend she wasn't afraid ; she was. She didn't want to let it win her over and stop her in her search for the truth, but it made her acknowledge the need to go slowly, carefully. Being targeted, being dead, would be of no use to anyone. She needed to be alive to present the case to the law and to the public, to get justice done. And everything was going according to plan until that morning, when she received a note, anonymous of course, telling her she had nothing, couldn't prove anything. Was ridiculous. Should stay out of it before becoming nuisance it was better to get rid of.
She knew the note was right, but she couldn't let the case go. Except she couldn't go any further, or she would end up like Kip and his death would have meant nothing. She had only one card left.
Live TV was a wonderful thing. It gave people a feeling of community, of witnessing something new for the first time together. It also gave an opportunity to send a message to an audience without being censored by anybody. It had to be quick, before the showrunners could cut the feed, but there was a window, and Clare was ready to use. And to hell with her career, on this network or any other. It was worth it.
Fandom: Original
Words: 645
Warnings: Mention of murder, but nothing descriptive.
Rating: PG13
Prompt 432 kamikaze
All this work, and all she had gathered was circumstancial at best. How disappointing. How frustating, too, because it meant she couln't do anything, and it was driven her crazy. They had to pay for what they did.
True, the lead was tenuous to begin with. Clare had stumbled upon it a couple of months ago, a little discrepancy in a story she was working on. It hadn't even been alarming, a small thing that most people would have frown upon, but not investigate later on. Except she wasn't most people, and she liked her stories to be solid as steel, unassailable from any outsider. It made her the great reporter she was as much as her instinct in finding the worthy news, the right angle. Her thouroughly acurate stories had brought her to the silver screen, had given her her fame and status and all the perks they bring along.
That little discrepancy had to be investigated, if only for her peace of mind. That's when she put her usual sources at work that things began to get weird. She had been working for a long time, now, and she had quite a wide net of informants, people in different flavors of shady that knew how to find the detail she needed, or didn't know she needed yet. And yet, this time, nothing. Well, next to nothing, but a "next" worthy of attention. Most of Clare's sources didn't find anything, and reported back, same as usual, and that was it. But one of them reported having found nothing, not because there wasn't anything to find, but because someone – probably several "someone" – didn't want him to find anything. Isidro wasn't scared per se, but the whole thing had made him uneasy, and she hadn't press the point further. That is, until it began clear that Kip wasn't going to report back.
Even if she hadn't discovered, by the time she had figured out most of the story, that they had hurt and killed dozens of innocent people, she would had come after them, if only for what they had done to Kip. He wasn't a saint, that was for sure, but he was mending his ways, and doing a great job at it. He didn't deserve what they did to him, the way his body was left and found days later. For that they had to pay, and for many, many other lives they had destroyed.
She had had to be careful after that. She couldn't pretend she wasn't afraid ; she was. She didn't want to let it win her over and stop her in her search for the truth, but it made her acknowledge the need to go slowly, carefully. Being targeted, being dead, would be of no use to anyone. She needed to be alive to present the case to the law and to the public, to get justice done. And everything was going according to plan until that morning, when she received a note, anonymous of course, telling her she had nothing, couldn't prove anything. Was ridiculous. Should stay out of it before becoming nuisance it was better to get rid of.
She knew the note was right, but she couldn't let the case go. Except she couldn't go any further, or she would end up like Kip and his death would have meant nothing. She had only one card left.
Live TV was a wonderful thing. It gave people a feeling of community, of witnessing something new for the first time together. It also gave an opportunity to send a message to an audience without being censored by anybody. It had to be quick, before the showrunners could cut the feed, but there was a window, and Clare was ready to use. And to hell with her career, on this network or any other. It was worth it.
