rp – Page 59 – Siblings-a-Fixin'

“I’ve… lived through some ‘f that,” Bruce said, gesturing mildly to a scarred indent on his left side; a puncture wound, be it from a harpoon or spear. “Researched other things. Asked ‘round. Once I realized what I was, I found that m’ sources could go b’yond just other sharks…” The great white sighed. “And it turned out worse than I imagined.”

“Oh,” the Repairman nodded, grimly. He didn’t have much reference for death, but what little he did have was enough to know what that meant.

“Well,” he asked, after a moment, “I hear some of the older ‘edutainment’ Toons are getting together to work on issues…over there.” He looked back at Bruce. “You think they could help?”

“I dunno,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “Finnin’s still up and runnin’, goin’ full speed and causin’ every other shark species to go extinct. Commercial fisheries remain widely unmanaged, don’t get me started on by-catch,” the shark rambled, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Why was I created as a creature humans hate so much?” the shark asked, brows knit before Bruce gave a final huff of despair, pectoral fins drooping low.

The Repairman hesitated. This was more or less the first time he’d heard about this issue. Granted, he didn’t pay attention to the other side of the Wall a whole lot, but even so, this was a big problem to miss.

“I don’t know how you know all that,” he admitted, “and I don’t know how the other side works, but…I’m sorry to hear about all that.”

“Is it b’cause the human ‘ave more time to see the movies? Just… still gettin’ used to my existence bein’ made simply for the entertainment ‘f humans…” Bruce said, giving a long sigh. “I mean, it’s hard. I was built to please humans and they treat my species like…expendable resources. Killin’ us for sport…”

“Yeah,” the Repairman sympathetically replied, “Don’t know why Toons aren’t always told anymore…”

As Bruce sighed and continued, the inkblot stopped and looked at him in surprise. He had heard of Toons feeling exploited before, but not because of their “real-life” counterparts. He began to fidget as he considered this.

Finally, he replied, tentatively, “I…guess it would be hard…”

Feeling like he needed more than that, he continued, hopefully, “Maybe…you’ve improved…the image…?”

“Maybe b’cause ‘f the newcomers?” Bruce asked glancing about before squeezing himself through the opened hole. After some manageable amount of effort, the shark got his midsection through and his tail followed shortly. “I mean, I’ve seen signs for new Toons comin’ to Toontown.”

“Eh,” the Repairman shrugged, “those signs have been around forever. But you’re right; there do seem to be a lot more signs and a lot more Toons each summer.”

He waited patiently for Bruce to get through. Big characters getting through small spaces was nothing new to the inkblot. Still, he couldn’t help a slight feeling of disappointment when the shark got out without a “pop.” He shook off that feeling rather quickly and pushed his cart out into the sunlight.

“Aye, really?” the shark asked. “Why’s that? I mean, the reason that it gets busy?” Bruce hovered over the metal floor, waiting patiently as the Repairman gathered his tools and belonging back into his case.

“Met ‘nother Toon a few months ‘go. Put two and two t’gether. ‘pparently they live ‘ere, at least ‘round the older ‘hand-drawn’ sector, I believe,” the great white explained.

“Ah,” the Repairman nodded. Made sense.

He continued as he closed the box and readied his cart. “Well, it’s summer; Toons everywhere get quite a bit busier. I don’t know why, but these days it seems worse in the CGI part.”

The great white gave a few good blinks, adjusting to the lack of plexiglass inches from his eyes before giving his head a quick shake. “Just off to ‘ead back to the CGI sector. Ye ‘ave anywhere ye’re headin’ off to, eh?” Bruce asked, glancing over to the Repairman.

The Repairman turned around, to fetch his cart and toolbox.

“Careful,” he said, casually, “I hear the CGI area gets pretty busy this time of year.”

After a moment, he added, “Wait, that’s not too different from the rest of ToonTown, is it?”

He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m off to fix the Wall in a stick figure world.”

While packing, he asked, “So, it’s been a while since you found out your Tooniness. How’d you get from the ocean to here?”

“Oh, aye, that’d be great. Not ‘avin’ hands, it… sort’a gets annoyin’ every once in awhile. ‘specially in a world where just ‘bout everybody else has hands and makes things for people with hands,” Bruce added with a chuckle, gliding over towards the Repairman and lowering his head down enough for the other to reach the adapted safety optics over his eyes.

“Yeah,” the Repairman said, looking back at his formless hands, “I can see that.”

The Repairman quickly took the glasses back and began to fold them back up. As he did so, he looked out the new hole in the door.

“So, where you off to?”

“Done with what?” asked the Narrator aggressively. “With repairing the fourth wall, is it? You can’t just come in here with that kind of singular purpose, that drive to do something ridiculously uncomplicated, that…” His words were growing confusing now, muddling together as the Narrator himself lost the detached calm in his voice. “You can’t… pressing buttons… You can’t just come in here and press buttons like…”

He stopped. His voice, small and quivering, seemed to rise from the floor rather than the ceiling. “Leave,” he said. “I’m – please, leave.”

“With repai– Yeah, but– Why no– It can be– Wha–”

The Repairman was having a hard time keeping up as the Narrator became more aggressive and incoherent, and so he had little chance of getting a word in edgewise. He lapsed into silence as the voice did.

He sighed. He really was botching this one, wasn’t he? It wasn’t like he was given any protocol for this kind of thing (then again, he had never gotten protocol for any aspect of his job).

He found himself slowly heading back to the door he came into, while uneasily saying “…Maybe I can come back to finish it off later…”

He covered the crack he caused in cement as quickly as possible as he continued back. He hoped that answer would satisfy the Narrator. He’d hate to have to sneak back in.

“Not a problem, mate,” Bruce replied. Ever so gently, the shark wrapped his jaws around the repairman’s midsection- or whatever resembled it- and placed him gently onto the ground before directing his attention towards the stuck saw. With a less gentler force, the shark snapped his jaws shut on top of the handle, whipping his head side to side to dislodge the tool from the metal plate. It came out with a screech and a metallic pop! which echoed across the underpass.

“Hey! Wha–”

The Repairman didn’t think about how he could be picked up in spite of his being blobby. He was used to the rules there being as inconsistent as Tooniness would allow. He was just surprised that Bruce decided to pick him up.

He was about to get indignant, but then he realized he was on the ground without a splat.

Despite his relative apathy towards heights, he breathed a sigh of relief. It just felt right to.

He looked up at the shark, wincing as the metal screeched. After flinching slightly at the pop, he said, “Thanks!”

He suddenly realized how unusual it was to see a CG Great White wearing protective eyewear.

“Need help taking that visor off again?”

Bruce tilted his head, arching a brow as he stared up as his struggling companion. “Ye… need any help up there? I can give a pretty strong pull if ye want that thing out’a the metal there,” the shark suggested.

The inkblot stopped pulling and looked back down.

“…Um,” he replied, somewhat humbled by this, “If you could, that’d be great.”