Eight have entered the waters…

The great white was silent with puzzlement, tilting his head. Had there been some unspoken rule in the other’s community about not giving themselves their own name? “Toons?” the shark asked, perking up at the unfamiliar term.

“What’re Toons, ‘xactly?”

The Repairman’s eyes widened as he shifted back slightly. This guy had never heard of Toons before? But he was one, right? CG, but still a Toon! Still, the Repairman quickly regained his composure. This was a somewhat more reserved universe, he reasoned, so it was a natural question for a shark to ask.

“Oh, you know,” the Repairman said, a tad reluctantly, “…cartoon characters.”

Ugh, he hated having to call Toons “characters.” Made his life more complicated.

Eight have entered the waters…

He had to admit, Bruce had expected something other than a clear answer. Maybe something more along the lines of a scream or string of curses; maybe a startled jump at least. Yet, apparently that wasn’t the case. “Just a job, eh? Well there’s a name for everyone and everythin’ these days. ‘aven’t ye given yerself a name, perhaps?” the great white asked before bringing a giant pectoral fin forward in greeting. “The name’s Bruce. Funny lookin’ divin’ gear ye got on. ‘aven’t seen anyone in those things b’fore.”

The Repairman had never really thought about his lack of a name. He had never been given one by his creator (or creators, he wasn’t sure), and he just went by his drawn occupation of Fourth Wall Repairman. Calling himself anything different was just… just…

“N-no,” the Repairman replied after a moment’s pause, “I couldn’t do that.”

He saw the shark place his fin forward. Taking a quick glance to either side, he decided there was no real risk to telling someone in this universe what he did. He only had to come here once before, after all.

"My job is the Fourth Wall Repairman. Charmed.”

Bruce’s remark about his suit had the Repairman looking down at it. It had definitely seen better days. Days without patches, scorch marks, or odd glowing gunk on it. But, such is the life of most Toon apparatus. Worn down, but seldom destroyed.

The Repairman looked back up.

“Never seen one?” he asked in surprise. He was sure that there were others who swam down here, and he was certain that some of them would be divers.

Eight have entered the waters…

“Well, ‘ello there, mate,” the giant shark bellowed, his towering body casting a deep shadow over the stranger before him. “What’s yer name?”

The Repairman blinked through his visor. Beat-up and scratched as it was, he still had a hard time missing the Great White that was in front of him.

He had met a few sharks in his time, some nicer than others, so he was hardly surprised when this one greeted him. What baffled him was the fish’s casual acceptance of a blob of ink swimming in front of him, clad in a very aged rubber SCUBA suit. The Repairman had assumed this universe was a bit more reserved than that.

Still, the Repairman was not one to complain, so he just cleared his throat.

“Well, I don’t have a name," he said, guardedly, ”just a job. How about you?“

@tsp-narrator

The Narrator watched as the thing – some kind of bizarre inkblot? – inputted the number 1 into the nearest computer keyboard. Brilliant, he thought. It was his time to shine.

He cleared his throat and put on a voice effused with bravado. “Well, well, well!” he said, in the style of an old show announcer. “Look who we have here! Why don’t I give you, our distinguished guest, a tour of the place. These are our old, broken-down computers… these are our badly-lit beige walls… this is a perfectly harmless copy machine… and if you turn your head a little this way, you can see part of our state-of-the-art malfunctioning electrical system!” (One of the lights flickered dimly.)

The Repairman took a passing glance at each part of the office described, keeping a safe distance from the copier. He felt a slight twinge as he did so, but he was sure that was just his putting off his job for a moment.

Speaking of which, there seemed to be a crack outside the window opposite the faulty lighting. How could that be? The Repairman could clearly see that there was nothing there. Clearly, the tour was automated, so no one would notice if he pulled a ladder from his toolbox and set it up so he could climb down…

*raises hands* alright! But can I have like a bat or something in case the Brits come back?

The Repairman paused. It was unlikely that the Queen’s soldiers would come back, but with his current company, who knew?

On top of that, the Repairman felt rather uncomfortable with people intentionally using his tools as weapons (accidents, of course, were another story, but everyone in those was a Toon anyway). Oh, the Repairman had used a weapon before, but he wasn’t sure it was the kind the Doctor was looking for…

Still, if the Royal Guard came back, both of them would need defense. He might as well give Whooves his means of assault.

He turned around, silently gave Whooves a large, rolled-up newspaper, and continued on his way.

*shrugs* I dunno. I was too busy running.

The Repairman peered past Whooves, towards where the ramp was left. There was no sign of the Photoshop-esque-swirl anymore.

The Repairman sighed in annoyance. His new tagalong wasn’t likely to take the bait if the Brits were no longer an issue.

“All right, you can tag along. But you stay outside the room I work in. The anons give me enough trouble in there as it is.”

doctor-whooves-ask:

askthefwrp:

doctor-whooves-ask:

askthefwrp:

[[Continued from: http://askthefwrp.tumblr.com/post/137751941926/doctor-whooves-ask-askthefwrp-well]]

It’s a sonic screwdriver and it’s the most important tool in all of the galaxy!! How could you be so daft?!?!?

“…says the one who decided to anger a queen,” The Repairman muttered.

More openly, he said: “All right, fine, you can call the magical glowstick whatever you want, @doctor-whooves-ask. I’ve got things to do, I’m not gonna argue.”

MAGICAL GLO- we’ll get to that later. What on earth do you even think you’re going to build with THOSE supplies?

“Now, look,” the Repairman said defensively, pulling his bucket of supplies closer to him, “I don’t ask you what salt shaker you’re saving the world from THIS time, now do I?”

After a moment or two, he relaxed a bit. After all, the horse WAS the reason he was building a few things…

“You’ll see it when it’s done,” he sighed.

And with that, the Repairman turned to leave.

*Follows him* Just because I’m curious enough, I think I’ll stick around. You might build a portal and call it an elevator, and I need a good laugh.

“…never seen that thing drive a screw…” the Repairman could be heard muttering.

He suddenly perked up, his siren light glowing a bit brighter.

“Speaking of portals,” he asked innocently, “Is the one you came from still open? I think I hear footsteps…”

The Repairman opened the door carefully, trying to get in unnoticed. He needn’t have worried; there was no one to hide from. The inkblot blinked. He had never seen an environment quite as deserted as this. How could the Fourth Wall have been broken? He exited the room he had been in, noting that every door was numbered. No one was to be seen in any of the windows, or in office, yet there seemed to be cracks pretty much everywhere. Strange.

tsp-narrator-deactivated2017050:

A voice issued overhead, though the rooms were still empty. “Hello. You have entered a generic office environment. For further information on your surroundings, press 1. For tips and pointers on video game narration, press 2. For a destructive, yet totally unprovoked fire, press 3.”

The Repairman jumped back slightly as the voice said hello, looking up for the source of the sound.

He guessed it was an average PA system (albeit one with strangely hidden speakers), so he quickly regained his composure and continued forward.

After hearing the possible input options (and wincing slightly at option 2), he paused. What was he supposed to press? There were phones and computers all around, and there was even a copy machine. There were no clues as to which to press.

However, the Repairman was curious about the place he was in, so he climbed onto the nearest chair and pressed the “1” key at that computer. Perhaps that would give him an explanation.

Whether it was intentional or not, he chuckled at the pun the inkblot made before telling him:

“It does no longer matter, our train is gone.” While he was considering any other options to get where they wanted, he noticed the blob fixing the crack he unintentionally left.

“What’cha doin’? ” he had a slightly mocking tone, but he seemed genuinely curious too; like if he didn’t know what he really did.

“Oh,” the Repairman said, evenly. “Sorry to hear that.”

He looked back at what could loosely be described as his handiwork (it was a slapdash job, after all).

“Oh, this? This is–”

He stopped, realizing he was amongst toons. Mentioning the fourth wall so openly was not a smart move. He pulled out a piece of paper and carefully rolled it into what would (hopefully) be an effective silencer.

Putting it up to where Cuphead’s ear would be, he whispered “I’m fixing the Fourth Wall.”

“Oh no oh no where did he go?” Without waiting for an answer, the blue cup got into the crowd, probably getting lost again.

The Repairman’s train was coming to the station, bursting with toons who, as soon as they opened their doors, they would hurry towards wherever they would want to go, but they would have to lump with the ones who were already in the station, creating an even more chaotic mass of zany diversity.

Despite this, the red cup could still be seen among the crowd, pouting at the audience. Not the crowd per se, the audience.

Oh, for the love of-

The Repairman took a deep breath. No big deal. This was to be expected; it was a Toon train station, after all. He could still make it to the train if he was fast. He dashed through the throng, making hurried ”‘scuse mes", “sorrys” and “COMING THROUGHs” as he went.

Finally, he found the crack in the wall, as well as its source. He quickly pulled out his trowel and slapped about a pint of cement on the crack, not even caring if it was a smooth fix or not.

“Quit the mugging, would you?” he said sarcastically, turning around.

“Oh.”

It was then that he saw who the offender was.

Is this gonna be a back-and-forth thing? the Repairman thought.

Out loud, he said, “I saw your friend looking for you.”