[Audio]Broadcast to all, faction nonspecific

[ceciiil]

[If you have a smartphone or equivalent communications device using the network on you or near you, it flickers into life with a polite crackle. Communications devices canbe powered off at any time if you don't wish to hear the broadcast.]

Greetings, citizens of the local rift-influenced community. You know who you are. Or at least, I hope you do, because I sure don't. My name is Cecil, and like you, I was recently deposited here by the rift. Back home, it was my job to keep the public safe and informed by reporting on events impacting the community, including road closings, natural disasters, and acts of most gods. I'm broadcasting to you live, with the help of the TARDIS, regarding something much, much more terrifying: Street cleaning.

I know the rift community is a diverse one, with people hailing from all kinds of alternate universes, planes of existence, and purely fictional realities. It is my duty as a news affiliate to make sure none of you are caught flat-footed, and subsequently devoured or ground into a paste which is then burned to fuel the city, by a menace you don't even know to expect. Chances are pretty good that will happen even if you are forewarned, but leveling the playing field seems like the least I can do. And can we just take a minute to appreciate the innovation behind this alternative energy source? Real green thinking!

Listeners, I've been through this before, and let me just say, street cleaning is not the end of the world. Actually, according to my sources, the end of the world will be comparatively bloodless, so that's one major difference, right there. Normally, I'd advise evacuating the area before it's too late, but of course as 'Riftugees' we are not permitted to leave. Burning off your fingerprints and fleeing to Europe is not, I repeat, is not going to save you this time. So just...keep a low profile, make peace with whatever deities you prefer, and try to loot respectfully.

I will be at this impromptu broadcasting station, located inside the space/time ship known as the TARDIS, until this crisis is over. Please call in for survival tips or with eye-witness accounts--[Cecil's voice is muffled, no longer directed at the microphone, as he asks a question, and another voice can be heard in the background. The words are indistinct, but the answering voice is female and the tone is distinctly one of chastisement. The discussion continues for some time, before Cecil addresses the mic once more.] Listeners, I need to issue a correction, here. Ships that travel in space and time do not exist, and if they did, it still would have been extremely rude and forgetful of me to acknowledge that fact publicly, even during a catastrophic event. Again, space/time ships are not real, and I apologize. The number for calling in is [_______]. I look forward to hearing from survivors, or non-survivors capable of manipulating electricity and phone lines.

Comments

[ginormotron]

[Hello, unexpected... radio broadcast from his smartphone? Sam is startled, but unexpected broadcasts over things which shouldn't be broadcasting anything are not new to him, so he stops, and listens, a frown carving itself ever deeper as the man, Cecil, talks. Ok, well, that's weird enough that it merits a call to the number Cecil volunteered. When the phone's answered, Sam clears his throat.]

Hello?

[ceciiil]

[Haha, right? As unexpected things coming from electronic devices go, a friendly and informative voice really isn't so bad. Could be ominous chanting. Could even be blood. Sam and Cecil could probably both agree that Sam got lucky this time around. Cecil answers the phone eagerly. First call! Hope it's a live one! Or an interesting dead one, you know, he's not prejudiced.]

Hi! Thanks for calling in. Who have I got on the line?

[ginormotron]

My name's Sam.

[Pause. He's only had occasion to call into a radio programme a few times before, and there's something uniquely awkward about it.]

I-- mostly was just wondering what you think is going to happen on street cleaning day? 'Cos I've, uh, I've done the whole apocalypse thing, and I'm pretty sure there weren't any street cleaners involved.

[ceciiil]

[Don't feel awkward, Sam! There's nothing to feel awkward about except awkwardness itself. So, probably Sam should feel awkward yeah. But Cecil's voice is as reassuring as he can make it, which is pretty dang reassuring, Rift-imbued Radio Voice aside.]

Well, Sam, there are apocalypses and apocalypses, as I'm sure you probably know. But Street Cleaning day is pretty distinctive. It's hard to say exactly what to expect, since I spent the worst part of Street Cleaning Day barricaded safely in a well warded broadcasting booth. I mostly witnessed the panicked fleeing beforehand, and the strangely euphoric, delicately emotional aftermath. And that's exactly what I recommend, Sam, keeping your head down and waiting it out. Find something to get under and get under it, after drawing the necessary sigils of course. Think of your loved ones. Don't try to be a hero. Take an emergency kit if you've got one handy, or even just some trail mix and bottled water. Oh, but try to avoid light sources? Or just, you know, visibility in general. Now's a great time to practice your invisibility.

[ginormotron]

[Normally, Sam would meet this kind of declaration with scepticism and well-reasoned arguments about how street cleaners are government employees and not likely to cause any kind of panicked fleeing. Right now, he reacts to the news as if it were Bobby who'd imparted it. This is a serious situation, and Sam will deal with it accordingly. When he speaks next, all awkwardness has left his voice; instead, he's serious and to-the-point.]

What kind of sigils work best? A general warding, or are we talking angelic, demonic, what? Are they vulnerable to anything else? The more esoteric stuff for spells or hex bags it's probably too late to get my hands on, but salt, iron, uh, any particular kinds of wood?

[What was that about not being a hero? Yeah, that one's kinda coded into Sam's DNA, regardless of Supremely Convincing Radio Voices.]

[ceciiil]

It really depends on your definition of 'work.' A top of the line bloodstone circle will offer you the best chance of protection, especially if your chanting skills are properly maintained--I know how easy it is to let things like that slide, and by the time you realize it it's been like two months since you got any good chanting done, ugh, what an uphill battle that is. Every New Year you make the resolution, but it just never sticks. But on the fly a salt based ward is probably best, as with any road-based hazard, though you can almost never go wrong with blood, except when that blood is acid.

[See, this Riftie understands the gravity of the situation, unlike some space/time ships. How refreshing! And he sounds so competent. He'll probably even survive.]

[ginormotron]

Bloodstone--

[It's a distracted mutter. Sam doesn't know what the hell a bloodstone circle is. But salt he can easily get a hold of, sigils painted with blood are nothing new, and he's got Ruby's knife on him; that'll kill most things, if all else fails.]

Thanks, man. I'll let people know; there's probably gonna be a panic, and if people don't know how to deal with this kind of thing...

[ceciiil]

That's what I'm here for! Seriously. Feel free to give out the number, too. I kind of figured the Rift people might not know how to handle this, that's why I wanted to get the word out. And I appreciate you helping out with that, Sam. Good luck! Not that luck exists, obviously.