West and Nelly were radio hosts; they had been so for the past 20 or so years. During this time, they had delighted in the simplest of things: exchanging jokes over the air, sharing tales from faraway lands, playing the most popular of hits for all of the people’s enjoyment. It was a long and happy career.

It was always bright and sunny in the studio. Even when it rained and stormed and the winds howled about with the fury of a thousand tempests, West and Nelly had not a worry in the world. Smiles were plastered on their faces, and they couldn't care less. As long as they were on air, and were able to inspire a touch of brightness into everyone’s lives, that was all that mattered.

But now, there was only silence.

Nothing but the company of silence and the stillness of watching eyes.

As licensed broadcasters of the Heimer Republic, and of the small town of Colchester, they were obligated and under orders — to tell the people that, within a few minutes, a rift would tear and all of the Void would come spilling out. Their creatures would consume and devour all, and leave not a living thing left standing.

They would not stand a chance.

It would be a bloodbath.

A massacre.

West and Nelly did not see the point. What would come of dreading the people? What would come of awaiting their demises in cold sweat and unspeakable terror? What would come of knowing the inevitable? There was simply no point.

And so they smiled to one another, and nodded, and produced a bottle of bourbon from below the desk. West and Nelly clinked glasses.

Classical music chimed, and once again, they were live.

The music was loud.

They could not hear the producers banging on the door. It was locked.

They could not hear the staff and crew screaming from way outside. The walls were soundproof.

They could not hear the States-Guards open fire. It was too late, then.

Far too late.

And when the song came to an end.

So did Colchester.

West and Nelly.

It was a long and happy career.

And Gentleman Death watched, from the shadows of the studio. He, too, was laughing with them.

“You have my respect.”