who_is_she | (no subject)

Conner's favorite part of his job was the time he got to spend within range of his favorite radio station. He'd discovered it a few years ago, when he'd been spending a miserable night hiding out under a lean-to to wait out a thunder storm. The only thing he had to distract him was the tinny tune on the radio. It wasn't that the radio played his favorite songs, it was more about the announcer who came on every so often. He'd made Conner laugh even when he was freezing and wet, and still made him laugh all the time. The guy was awkward, and a little strange, but seemed so sweet and caring too. He seemed afraid a lot-- but in the world they lived in, his fear was founded.

Conner didn't even know his name, because he never said it on the air, only the name of the station. He had figured out where the station was, though, and maybe if he'd wandered around the perimeter of the little shack whenever he was nearby, well, it wasn't like anybody knew.

The station had come to mean so much to Conner, had so often been the light in a dark situation for him, that he'd never been able to get up the nerve to actually meet the guy. He was half afraid the whole thing was just an act, just some actor's radio persona, and the sweet, awkward guy who apologized for his jokes was just a parody that Conner didn't get.

But it had been so long, and the announcer was so consistent that Conner felt there was no way he wasn't real. Actually taking to him had to be weird, though, when Conner had developed such a huge crush on a disembodied voice.

So he just listened, and laughed at his jokes, and took all the jobs he could within range of the station.

Then all at once that changed.

Conner's finger was quick on the volume knob on his pip-boy when he heard the announcer's voice tinged with panic. It wasn't that unusual, but Conner always listened carefully when it happened, his heart aching for the voice. This time was different, though, as the announcer shakily explained that he was being attacked and begged for help.

Conner was on his feet with his pistol in his hand before the announcer had even said the word "help".

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"Hey, um, so, as some of you guys know, I, uhh...I don't really run this station in the city, like some people do, I, uhh...I mean, it's pretty near the city, so it's usually safe-ish, but I, uhh -- okay, let me just get to the point, ghouls are attacking the station, the feral kind I mean, so, you know, if you're in the area I need some help. If you don't mind. I mean. Don't go out of your way or anything, but, I, uhh...I put out a distress beacon so if you could just...pick that up and follow it if you got some kind of tracker, I...please. Please help me. Please, please, please help me. I'm running out of ammo and they're busting down the door, I...oh, God, well. This is it, I guess. Thanks for listening to...LA News Radio."

Gavin slaps at the button to shut off the broadcast (and, unbeknownst to him, misses,) before letting out a loud, wailing scream and kicking at a burned, rotting hand that had burst its way through the glass in his door. He leans another chair against the wall of his shack with trembling hands just as another hand bursts through the window and grabs him by the shirt. He screams as he frees himself, grabbing his pistol and firing it aimlessly in his panic until the clicking of the trigger lets him know that he's out of bullets.

Conner's heart is thudding as he runs at top speed towards the distress signal, the announcer's terrified cry ringing in his ears.

Sure enough, the place is covered in feral ghouls, and Conner crouches down to pick off a couple of them before they notice he's there. When the ghouls start to notice him Conner switches to a bat and starts going to town.

"Hey, uh... Announcer guy! Sorry I still don't know your name! Are you dead?" he hollers in between beating ghouls until they stop moving.