mxbsterpotoroo – Siblings-a-Fixin'

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askthefwrp

❝ Sorry squirt, We don’t want any.

Now, S C R A M – befo’ I get mad. ❞

“O-oh, okay,” the Repairman sighed, in a bad falsetto. He knew that dressing as a Boy Scout wasn’t going to work, but some Toony part of him had to try it.

He left, putting some distance between himself and the facility before taking off that stupid getup. He wondered how that shop had ready-made disguises for inkblots.

Well, he had to get to that break in the Wall somehow. Plan B: package for Cortex Power. He prepared a crate.

mxbsterpotoroo:

Pinstripe raised a brow, still not believing the small blob’s story. He knew that anything dealing with maintenance especially with Cortex Power, His boss would have let him know ahead of time.

“So, what’s seems to be da problem?– Did da boss even tell youse what he wanted to be fixed?”

The potoroo fished for further information, hoping the repairman would spill his guts before he made him .

The Repairman’s eyes were darting back and forth as his mind raced. He couldn’t admit to lying now, and it seemed the mobster would be watching his every move. If he wasn’t careful, he would have to bypass the crack in the wall entirely and focus his attention on a generator or something. Well, he thought, back to vagueness.

“…Let’s just say that this reality has a few cracks in it,” said the Repairman, “and it’s suspected that one appeared here.”

The Repairman believed that this world had someone who went to other dimensions once, and he hoped he was right. This was already wasting enough time.

mxbsterpotoroo:

askthefwrp

“Da boss nev’ah said anyt’ing ‘bout a handyman–”

The bodyguard quickly looked through a few files of paper work that was given to him earlier this morning by Dr. Cortex. Which none of even mentioned anyone coming over. Especially when Pinstripe already made his henchmen check the premises for any damages.

“Dis has to be a mistake” he stated.

The Repairman looked around uneasily. Since the last (rather sudden) encounter with the potoroo, he had decided to abandon the idea of sneaking through, opting instead to walk through the front door.

Luckily, the flashy-suited character didn’t seem to question the fact that he was talking to a 2’ 8" blob of ink. However, The Repairman had not thought of what he would do at this point. Saying what the Fourth Wall actually was could worsen things, after all. His mind raced, hoping for an excuse to come into his mind.

“Er…” he ventured warily, “of course he wouldn’t say it, because this…is…a surprise inspection! Yes.”

He looked back up at the potoroo hopefully.

“Frankly,” he continued to lie through nonexistent teeth, "I’m as surprised at this inspection as you.“ He tapped the siren light that was protruding from his head. "But, duty calls, so…”

mxbsterpotoroo:

Pinstripe rolled his eyes as he impatiently watched the repairman gear up, he tapped his foot against the ground as his gun remained pointed in the other man’s direction. He was taking proaction but truthfully he wanted this end quickly so he could go back inside.

It was a cold night and the bodyguard forgot to layer up before going out this dark night. He figured that this man was hired by Cortex but usually with these kinds of workers they would be working by day rather than night but he didn’t too much thought into it.

The Repairman had a very hard time seeing through the mask. It was far too bright. He figured it was because the hazardous materials glowed. After all, the surface was a neon green. He sighed, not wanting to feel around the bottom of this sludge.

Oddly enough, though, the light that was currently blinding him was not green. It was a light yellow.

Huh. I guess pollution comes in all colors.

He turned to see if he could at least get a feel for his surroundings. When he turned, the light dimmed, revealing the unhealthy color of the waters around him. He turned back. It was still a blinding yellow over there. The Repairman squinted. If he had a consistent mouth, he would have frowned in confusion. While not wanting to approach it, lest it be his seventh or eighth problem that night, he kept looking into the light to try and figure it out.

Why would it be like…Oh….

Feeling like a fool, he picked up his lost flashlight and continued his search. Before doing that, though, he decided to wave it upwards, as a signal to show to the mobster that he was still there, and doing fine.

mxbsterpotoroo:

The Bodyguard squinted a bit as examined the man before nudging his gun to the direction of where the polluted water was. Letting him slide for now, he motioned for him to hurry. He wanted to make his night shift quick and easy.

“A’right, just hurry up. I’ll be standing here to make shoy yous are doin’ yo’ job” he sighed.

The Repairman nodded gratefully, turning towards his open toolbox.

He dug for a few moments before pulling out a formless SCUBA-like suit, with a long hose coming out of the top. The other end of the hose had a funnel in it. The whole apparatus was beige, and patches could be seen all over it.

The Repairman, funnel in hand, dropped the suit into the water. He then reached into his toolchest again and produced a bike lock. After locking the hose to the toolbox, he climbed into the funnel. A bulge could be seen traveling down the tube as the inkblot got into his suit.

* * *

Down in the depths of what passed for water around Cortex Power, he began looking around for the dropped tools.

“That went well,” the Repairman said to himself. "At least he didn’t ask what kind of maintenance I do.“

mxbsterpotoroo:

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The mobster quickly took hold of his tommy gun and aimed it at the stranger, not completely trusting this person since they were already trespassing on private property.

“What are yous doin’ here? I’d make my ans’ah short and sweet if I was yous– unless yous want yo’ brains splatt’ad against the walls here-ah”

The Repairman was quick to put his hands up, dropping his fishing rod into the polluted water.

…Of course. That’s the fourth thing I’ll have to fetch.

The inkbot turned to face his fifth problem. That was certainly an intimidating sixth problem being pointed at his face by the potoroo.

The Repairman nervously looked up to see his aggressor’s face.

“Scheduled maintenance, sir. I came in here just to make sure everything’s fine, but then…”

He motioned towards his former fishing spot.

“…I dropped a few things, and you caught me trying to get them back. So…I’ll just get those, finish the checkup, and be on my way, all right?”