ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴏᴅ ʀᴀᴅɪᴏ; ʙʀᴏᴀᴅᴄᴀsᴛ 1

[mediary]

Good morning, 'joys and boys, this is your favorite deejay-slash-local nerd-slash-informant, Red Hood, proudly presenting yet another broadcast from WKIL-109 FMX. Been a while, I know you all missed me to bits and pieces!

For anyone listening, the weather sucks, and that's the closest you're getting to a forecast, because I'm not a meteorologist and that's not my job. [ You can practically hear the grin in his voice as Red Hood slides across his broadcasting setup, tapping away at some sort of machine--either to play tracks, or to do something else entirely. This is becoming a weekly thing, and his position as, literally, shock jockey, is one that Red's attached to, dangerous or not. ]

What is actually my job is to play some ridiculously shiny tunes for you guys while you're off triumphing over evil, which I'll get to in a minute, after we talk about the other kinds of tracks on the radio. 

I'm taking all callers for the next two hours. Update me on your position, and I'll update you on who's on your back. Keep safe out there, because if you're surviving acid rain, might as well survive being a revolutionary. I'm keeping an eye out for the Big Bad Wolf--this is Red Hood, over and out. Let's get this thing rolling. 

[With that said, he turns up a loud song and sits back, radio mic resting on his chest, feet kicked up on the desk. ]

Comments

[mediary]

If it keeps you from eating my grandma, by all means. [ A smirk crosses his face as he rifles through some papers, spinning in his chair and finding what looks like a photograph of graffiti tags--definitely Wolf's work. There were tons of photos just like this papering his "office", connected by pieces of red string, each one a different track that the big bad wolf seemed to take. Wherever he went, the agents would always, always follow, like they knew him, and what had started as a game ended with a surprisingly compatible team of trackers and dispatch.

And maybe Red enjoyed the hunt. Wolf was smarter than half of the dracs that came out this far. ] Whatever you dispatch, try not to do it with too many bloodstains, some of us are listening in on your every move.

[triskeles]

Not exactly in the business of eating anyone's grandmother, these days. Think I'd skip right onto bigmouthed broadcasters, to be honest. [ There are sure times where the Big Bad Wolf just draws the Draculoids into a trap, leaves blatant clues for them to follow until he can dispose of them as is necessary. He knows that Red Hood finds those trails, but he's also been leaving him more subtle indicators, and he hasn't been disappointed in the least.

It's better that way, really. Sometimes, he doesn't feel like the airwaves are safe, even with a code. Leaving behind tags and other visible means for others to follow is safer, though he takes care in where he leaves them-- for his game of tag, for warnings, for safe locations. It's just a matter of who can figure them out. ]

I'm running out of spray paint, though. [ Is he joking, or is he seriously considering using drac blood for his tags? (He's joking, and hopefully Red's figured out his dark sense of humor by this point.) ]