rustbolt-answers-your-bullshit – Siblings-a-Fixin'

“…My suit is made from a vending machine. Sometimes that happens. If I
could stop it, I would.” He chuckled nervously and looked off into the
distance. “Whatever you to it’s best to do it fast. The zombies get
pretty active at night, and the sun looks like it’s going down fast.”

“Um, okay…” the Repairman said, cautiously. “You think they’d go after us?”

He gestured towards his and Marie’s ink-and-paint forms.

Marie’s form was currently yanking at the door, sweating as the door seemed to bend and warp to her will. It was far from opening, still, but any weaker door would be torn from the frame by now.

“C’mon…” she grunted, ”gotta…get…this…done!”

Rustbolt rolled his eyes. “Alright then.
Have fun I guess. I’m gonna go make, then chug, a gallon of coffee and
probably get drunk off of 4 cans of monster. If you wanna join me,
you’re welcome to.” Suddenly there was a rattling noise, and a can of
soda shot out of his ass at mach 4. It flew practically parallel to the
ground, and was out of sight in an instant.

“…Ignore that.”

“Okay, you have fun with–” the Repairman rolled his eyes dismissively, before a soda can flew off into the distance.

“…that…” he finished, watching the dust settle. It happened so fast, he didn’t even register what happened.

A bit off put and mildly insulted by the “NO!”, Rustbolt huffed quietly.

“Do you at least need some sort of direction as to where you need to go?”

“…Well, I kinda have that covered, too…” the Repairman replied, tapping his siren light. “I know where breaks in the Wall happen thanks to this!”

He looked at the locked door. There were plenty of ink stains on the door and the handle.

“…Getting to them can be a bit tricky, sure, but still…”

“I could still try to help…” Marie chimed in.

“I just have to try other options,” the Repairman said, through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“I’m Rustbolt. I own this pile of shit.” He gestured to the heaps of trash. “Well, PILES.”

“So something needs fixing? Maybe I can help?”

The Repairman tried to cover where Marie’s ears would be.

“Hey, watch it! There’s a kid here!”

Marie swatted his hands away, though, and quickly turned to him.

“Hey, I’m no kid! I already know those” *honk honk* “words!”

The Repairman shrugged, and helped Marie give Rustbolt’s parts back.

Both Marie and the Repairman nearly dropped the piles they were carrying as Rustbolt offered help.

“NO!” they both said, a little too quickly.

Marie cleared her throat as her brother grumbled.

“Look, I appreciate it, but we’re going to be fine here. I’m assisting him, after all.”

She looked back at him, and caught his eye. He watched her like a hawk when she was near the Wall.

“…Well, I’m trying to, at least,” she sighed.

“Alright,
I see you dont mean harm.” He put the spatula away. “Also yeah. Ink and
tar are both black, kinda hard to tell. Sorry.”

“So why ARE you here? What needs fixing?”

Both the Repairman and Marie relaxed as Rustbolt did. Marie handed the zombie some of his parts, before picking up some more.

“Well…” the Repairman began, realizing there wasn’t much point in hiding anything. “I’m the Fourth Wall Repairman. I just saw that something around here was breaking the Wall, so we came here to fix it. And you are…?”

Rustbolt stood up, now TRULY awake. He
brushed himself off and looked at the repairman. “Uh, sorry about that,
little uh… Tar blob.” Furrowing the skin where a brow should be, he
looked over at Marie.

“What’re you doing? Actually, what’re BOTH of you doing?” Rustbolt cautiously altered his footing and pulled out a spatula.

“…Ink,” the Repairman mumbled. “Not tar.”

Both ink and paint sprang back a little as a spatula popped out. They both adjusted to either defend themselves or flee when they saw the zombie’s pose.

“…L-look,” the Repairman finally said, “I’m trying to fix something here! We don’t want any issue…”

Marie cautiously moved forward and held up one of the piles of parts. Maybe that could help out some. Neither of them meant any harm, and this was easy proof.

“…I, uh, couldn’t help but see you dropped these. I hope the way they’re sorted is okay.”

Rustbolt yawned and stretched his arms. He was practically on autopilot,
half-asleep. “I DONT WANT ANOTHER ONE!” He swatted away an imaginary
something. Who knew what he was seeing, half his brain was dreaming.
Until he felt himself bump into something, and somehow he managed to
fall flat on his face, right at the Repairman’s… “feet.”

The Repairman turned around just in time to be caught in the face by a guy in a metal suit.

“Augh! What the–?!”

He rubbed his face, before jumping back at a massive clatter. Marie also jumped, her bow flicking back to normal from the force of it.

They looked down to find his…assailant…collapsed on the ground. Screws and nuts and bolts were scattered this way and that.

“Uh…hey…you okay?” the Repairman asked, after a stunned moment of silence.

Marie, meanwhile, was starting to pick up all the loose parts, inspecting each of them closely as she did so.

“What are you doing?!” the Repairman urgently whispered.

“I’m just getting all his stuff together for him…”

“Well, stop! It looks like you’re stealing them!”

Marie rolled her eyes, and put the pieces she collected into neatly organized piles in front of the fallen character. The piles seemed to be sorted not only by type, but also size, color, and even age.

In a war-torn Suburbia…

A paint spatter kept watch. At least, that’s what the Repairman said Marie was doing. In reality, he didn’t expect anyone to come down the alley he found himself in. He just preferred to keep his job to himself.

Oddly enough, she seemed to think that turning her bow into one made of two small road cones tied by vines was a good way to blend in.

Well, whatever. He would just get the job done and they could get out of–

“REPAIRMAN! REPAIRMAN!” He heard Marie call out. “Someone’s coming! Some guy in orange armor, apparently…”

“What? Where?”

Marie said nothing, but pointed behind her brother…

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