Murder On The Air

Deer Down

Nineteen thirty three

Alastor was drinking liquor at a bar. He heard a commotion going on outside and wondered what it was. Just then, the doors to the joint opened and in stepped a showman.

There were several reporters surrounding said man, and there was a camera man there as well. Everyone stopped and stared at the newcomer.

He was a tall, slim man, very handsome. He looked to be in his early twenties, the same age as when Alastor first started his career. His skin was white and his eyes were electric blue. One of his eyes had a red contact in it. His hair was slicked back and black in color, very short. He wore a black tuxedo with blue vertical stripes on it. His undershirt was whitish blue and below it were red and black stripes. The red bow tie he wore was huge. He also wore a black top hat with a blue antenna design.

Right away, the man gave off a confident, showy exterior. He had a manipulative and level-headed side to him as well...not so different from Alastor's persona on the radio.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen!" the man said. "For those who don't know me, I am Vsevolod Saranoff, Russian relative of the RCA president. But many people aren't too comfortable with that, so I often call myself Vox. You can, too."

"I was born in Russia with Vex and Vuk but came here to the U.S. in search for a better life. With the help of my father and family, I landed a position at RCA. My sister Vex works with telephones and my brother Vuk improves telegraphs. But as for me, I aim to be a new pioneer for a new concept that you may have heard about: television."

Alastor almost crushed his liquor glass then and there. He never imagined being with another showman in person. Although it seemed like this guy was a show man twenty four seven. He was all about profit, praise and pretty ladies.

Vox continued on about how television worked and things about the RCA Company. He handed out fliers to everyone. Alastor read the flier in front of him. In orange and black chrome letters was the bold heading: "The Radio Corporation of America tells What Television will mean to you!"

The flier talked about experimental broadcasting and televisions potentially being sold to consumers in the future.

Without warning, Vox came over to Alastor and shook his hand hard. "What a pleasure meeting you sir!"

Alastor pulled his hand away.

"I've heard rumors that you're the radio host of this city, correct."

"Why yes, I am! The best one in LA, in fact."

Vox's calculating eyes scrutinized Alastor's appearance and skin color. Vox tsked, giving off an aura of superiority.

"Well, you've made some considerable progress, that's for sure. But if television sells well, it will be all the rage. Who knows..."

He leaned in, "Maybe radio will fade into the background."

Alastor casually stood up. "I don't think so. People have enjoyed my shows for almost a decade now. Radio will never fade away."

Vox brushed off his suit and winked at two admiring women nearby. He turned back to him. "Perhaps you're right. But answer me this: how exactly did you manage to get so famous in the first place? You work for CBS? NBC? RCA?"

"I'm my own business," he replied.

"There have been rumors going on. About you being a dewdropper who always stays home? You being a jumbo of different races? Usually colored folk don't obtain celebrity status that fast. Frankly, I'm surprised you made it this far."