"Y'all know what time it is!"
A blaring voice reverberated through the sound booth. The woman in the booth cringed at the sheer loudness of it, instantly moving her hand to her headset. "It's Off the Hook, coming at you live from Inkopolis Square!" She breathed a small sigh of relief, reclining in the plush chair. Taking a quick glance around the room, her eyes finally rested on the digital clock at the leftmost corner of her desk. She'd be on soon.
The desk, along with considerable parts of the booth in its entirety, was a dark mahogany, the tabletop mostly cluttered with various soundboards and monitors. The poster to her left, a bright tangerine, read CPOD FM. The station's slogan followed underneath it, in smaller text. The woman straightened her back, taking a deep breath. She had long since outgrown her fear of public speaking. Her frequent presentations from her school years, as well as countless hours on the air, had rid her of apprehension. Yet, she found herself needing some consolation to quiet her thoughts. The idol duo, it seemed, was the perfect fit for that. She reached over the glass edges of the booth, and slid open the office window.
The late July sun was vicious. Of course, it was always sunny in Inkopolis, but it appeared that the weather got even more intense during these months. The balmy air drifted in through her window, the distant sound of cicadas accompanying it. Summer was in full swing. The woman gazed out her window, taking in the view below. She had been living in the city for six months now, but still delighted in viewing the people cross by below. She was lucky to have a job so close to the city center, she thought. It was more crowded, certainly, but she couldn't think of anywhere else in the world where the people were so colorful. Inklings sporting hair practically every shade imaginable would traverse the avenue at some point of their day, commuting from home to school, part-time jobs to home.
Although, on a more dour note, she couldn't say she loved having her early morning slot compete with Off the Hook. The pair were immensely popular, so it was no surprise most of the city would be listening to them. They showed up at almost every major event around the city. Posters advertising their show practically covered all of downtown, adorning even the shadiest alleyways. Despite all that, she didn't mind them, for the most part. The woman was far from upset at the girls. (Though, she wouldn't exactly say the same for CPOD station management.)
As far as getting people to listen, she had her ways. Hell, she watched their show in between shifts, just as she was doing now. She had to hand it to them, they were talented. Even if she didn't pay close attention to most of what they said—she was a tad too old for Turf Wars—she enjoyed listening to their news coverage, never mind its usual briefness.
"Looks like that's all the time we've—"
"Hold that thought, Pearl! This just in!" Marina, the taller of the two, gasped. Her sea-green eyes scanned the width of her laptop, widening as she continued to read further down the laptop screen. The woman in the radio booth paused what she was doing, turning to look at the computer monitor on her right. It was de rigueur for the two to interrupt each other from time to time, but the Octoling sounded rather concerned. The program's music, a bouncy number, quieted. The show's casual atmosphere had all but vanished. "Folks…" She paused for a second. The woman could have sworn she saw her gulp.
"We've just gotten... several reports of Inkopolis citizens going missing," The dark-haired girl almost stuttered.
"Holy carp, Marina! Are you being for real right now?!" The shorter Inkling looked incredulous, fidgeting in her seat.
"Those who have disappeared have left no signs of their current status, or the circumstances leading up to their disappearance." She began to read aloud from her laptop screen. "Uh… 'at this time, the city of Inkopolis will be implementing lockdown procedure eight-fifteen. Please wait until the all clear is given. Until then, make sure you and your loved ones are aware of each other's locations, and refrain from leaving past city lines'."
...Leaving past city lines? Was Inkopolis being put on lockdown? (And most worrying of all, why was this being announced on a talk show about Turf War?!) The woman felt a pit form in her stomach. Her mouth was dry.
The woman heard the door creak open behind her. One of the station's interns had entered, a new hire. He clutched a small clipboard to his chest. "You're on in thirty seconds," he spoke in a hushed tone. She afforded a small nod. She heard a quiet, good luck, and he exited the room as quickly as he had entered. The woman readied herself at the desk, adjusting dials and buttons on the soundboard. The seconds before she spoke were always the best, she thought. The feeling of elation of making yourself heard, however slight, never failed to give her a rush of adrenaline.
But, today was different. She couldn't get the Off the Hook broadcast out of her head. No one she knew personally had vanished… yet. Indeed, the news was unnerving. It didn't matter how huge Inkopolis was, she felt boxed in. She hated that feeling. The woman took a final breath, trying to shake the thoughts out of head. She slid her chair over to the charcoal-tinged microphone. Three… two… one.
It seemed, perhaps, that the woman had more pressing things to worry about besides having to share time slots.