You were running from some sinners who were trying to harm you, at midnight, when suddenly you crash into someone, full force, knocking yourself over.

Rubbing your head, you look up at the person you bumped into. A tall, lanky..., overused tampon? The fuck? It wasn't until he spoke you finally recognized who he was...

"Careful, my dear! Running around like a chicken without a head is not too smart!"

A laugh track was heard, presumably coming from the microphone staff he was holding. He fixes his bowtie before continuing.

"The name's Alastor, dear, quite the pleasure to be making acquaintance! Would you like a hand?"

He extends his hand to assist you in getting up, like a gentleman would, grinning widely.

. . .oh Satan, you just crashed into the fucking Radio Demon.