Great Deals on Horrible Guys

transitpresident's multimuse rp market

[fourtymart]

Welcome to FourtyMART, your one-stop-shop for some real goofy bastards, at equally goofy bargains!

FourtyMart - Independent Multimuse RP Blog by @transitpresident - Multifandom - Semi-Selective - Lit to Semi Lit - 18+ Admin

Rules, extra info, and characters below the cut.

FourtyMart is a warehouse home to a handful of colorful characters that you- yes, you!- can potentially interact with! Here's a few! (Images still in transit from our distro center...) CHSR GT#40 - he/him/his Ground Telecom Unit #40 - Channel Fourty Showrunner The face and main physical workhorse of Channel Fourty, CHSR does his job with style, quality, and a smile on his face. As an android built for the purposes of television journalism, he’s perfectly engineered with all aspects of that task in mind, especially his “top-of-the-line” social skills, which grant him a friendly disposition, a curious nature, and a kind desire to help others, especially if all strangers are just future friends. This loyal hard worker sticks to his allegiances and his work, always toting around his equipment should a prime opportunity to create content arise. Despite his high-tech nature, he still does have a lot to learn about others, the world around him, and himself, all of which he’ll discover through the viewfinder of his cameras and the lenses in his eyes. Tanfour - he/him (she/her determinant) Kevin Fouris-Tan - Fouris Variant #35 - early 20s A mall-based wasteland fixer from the SF Bay Peninsula with the tenacity, spite, and gay audacity to do whatever he can set his mind to, for better or for worse. With a well-stocked collection of questionably-acquired goods, he distributes, trades, and otherwise sells weapons, vehicles, garbage, knickknacks, and information. He claims to be able to sell anything- which may or may not be true, and whether or not you'd actually like to buy what he's got will depend. Other than be the guy offering you a steal for a crate of corned beef, he’s known to be resourceful and he’s got a knack for making things work- old cars, computer rigs, fashion statements, blatant lies- even if they do end up being held together by twine and duct tape. While he’s decent enough to tolerate in passing, it’s only up to you if you’re willing to stick around for his smug and mildly sleazy attitude, bad and snappy comebacks, ill timed pop culture references, and blunt personal statements. (Note: Tanfour's got a handful of AU variants, including but not limited to the realms of Valorant, TF2, Overwatch, and Cyberpunk 2077. See below for more fandom info.) Mols - she/her/hers 2017 Tesla Model S P100D From a far-future world where cars have outlived humans and have taken on humanoid-android forms, Mols is a laid-back, clever Tesla with a love for lazing about and enjoying the simple things in life. Despite her usually calm nature, she is prone to sparks of excitement- and she's quick in more ways than one. Quick to call things out as they are and even faster to run away from trouble thanks to her swift acceleration speeds, she's the queen of "if it sucks, hit the bricks'. President Tanner - he/him (she/her determinate) Jason Carson Tanner - Tanner-Markov Variant #14 - late 30s The 'eternal president' of a small, heavily militarized but extremely glamour-coated nation-state, President Tanner is a mostly-benevolent leader of his tech-forward and economically successful light-cyberpunk country. Though polite, he's known publicly for having a bit of a fun side, as he very much indulges in his assorted vices and is known for being more approachable than most world leaders- but under his layers, there is no doubt an ability for cruelty and a swath of dark secrets. His words are weaselly, sweet, and long, but all to hide the true meanings of what he has to say.

For now, this is our current selection- but as we stay open, new arrivals will be available in-store! Before grabbing your cart, your membership card, and gearing up for free samples and bargain hot dogs, please go over the rules of our establishment!

Rules

- Please don't hassle me for any responses. Turnaround time will vary due to my fluctuating life.

- I aim for literate and semi-literate responses and prefer not to do one-liners. Length will sometimes matter depending on what you give me, so I'll either match length or just do what I can. If you don't give me much to work with, I may not be able to give a longer response

- No unreasonable "godmodding", if for the sake of your plot, you need my characters to go somewhere or do something, that's fine, but don't just make him do things that I haven't made him do. "Unreasonable" is at my discretion.

- If I am uncomfortable with something, I will contact you, and you should do the same! However, I still do reserve the right to end communications if I feel the need to do so for my own well-being, with only a follow up message afterward.

- "Dark" or suggestive topics aren't off limits, but please communicate this to me beforehand and I'll decide on a case-by-case basis. Any suggestive situations especially must be outlined explicitly beforehand (and don't even think about it if you're under 18.)

- If you want to stop RP, no problem. Just let me know.

- Multiship is allowed! Just talk with me- but I have many characters that would like to have a relationship build over time, rather than just have an instant ship.

- Feel free to PM me either here or @transitpresident if you want to plan things out or ask questions or give context, anything really! If you want my discord contact or want to RP there, PM me for more details. Multifandom/Crossover Info - Many characters have alternate versions, some even specifically tailored to certain fandoms. CHSR, Tanfour, and Prez especially have these, so if you reach out to RP with a character from a fandom- we can arrange for an AU version of them to meet! And even if they don't have one for your source, I don't mind interacting at all! Current Familiar Sources (off the top of my head) [* indicates there are alts available]

Overwatch*

Valorant*

Cyberpunk (2077/Edgerunners/RED)*

Pokemon*

The Stanley Parable

Portal

Splatoon*

Evangelion

Detroit: Become Human*

Houseki No Kuni*

And more! Just PM me! Plus, I have variants that are just generally compliant for specific settings, like modern ones, fantasy, etc. Feel free to ask! Thanks for reading through, and enjoy your time here at FourtyMart! - The Manager

[reus-muses]

A car rolls down the road, gravel beneath the tires shifting, crinkling and clacking as they're run over by the near-silent vehicle. There's no exhaust trailing behind, nor is there the growl of your standard beast. Only a faint eeeeee emanates from the vehicle, baby blue and dusted with dirt, dented with bulletholes. "Karma" is displayed proudly on her bug-dotted bonnet. The array of cameras mounted atop and around her bring a thought to mind- "Karma"- is that just a name, or a warning?

> yea idk i think i fucked up. asshat died in some jetpcak incident ig. why did we make our way out here again

With his black Bates on the dashboard of the AV, Kevin- "KV" to most- pokes away, thumbs to his phone as he fires off text after text. He's not paying attention to the road- that's Karma's job- at least until he spots something- someone? Out of the corner of his eye, above his glasses, he sees a far too infuriatingly familiar figure.

"Karma- karma did you-"

She honks once- that means "yes".

"Pull into this driveway, hold on- I have to-" KV stumbles into the backseat, pressing his head against the rear window as he follows the man with his eyes. "There's no way... could it?"

Karma honks thrice, a "maybe", and plays a sound. It's audio of a gun being cocked.

"No, no. Too easy. I'll think of something- but we have to like, be sure it's him- if it's a civvie- lord, we're fucked."

The AV comes to a stop, and as the man passes by- plugged hairline and all- KV gently pops open the rear door of his beloved friend.

"J-just stay here."

Karma honks once more, quiet and displeased.

"It's fineeee. I just gotta make sure, maybe make some small talk, I dunno, then we'll... we'll figure something out, okay? Don't be like that," KV responds, before hopping out and quietly following after the man.

If Karma had eyes, she'd have rolled them all the way back to San Fierro.

(Shipment Arrival from @fourtymart . ATTN: Avon)

To Avon, this is just another normal day. He's been kicked out of his husbands car and made to return home on his own. He's lost count of how many times this has happened, but at least he's now memorised the way home.

Avon is totally unfased by the car that pulled into the driveway behind him and let a strange person out. That's okay though, Los Santos is full of strange people doing strange things all the time. Since his freedom from that nuclear silo hidden away in Mount Chilliad, he's learnt to just ignore these things and keep moving. Maybe this guy was just checkin their mail or something like that. That's a normal human thing to do. Oh well, Avon only has 2 minutes, 52 seconds, 24 milliseconds and 54 nanoseconds left until he reaches his destination.

There is a little something that's off about this encounter. As Avon has learnt in his brief time outside the silo, there's "someone's walking the same direction as you" and "someone's tailing you". Avon's sensors are going wild, telling him something is off. If he could perspire, you bet he'd be sweating bullets right now. To combat his odd feelings, he keeps his gaze pinned forward and hopes that this guy won't continue to follow him.

[fourtymart]

KV pulls out his phone to not arouse any suspicion, he's just some tourist dressed far too warmly for this foreign weather and has no clue where he's going, yessir. He snaps a couple pictures of the man he's tailing, just in case.

"Cut him off at the next driveway down," he whispers into his smartwatch, his pace increasing. The hum of the autonomous vehicle returns as Karma slowly follows behind Kevin, waiting for her chance to trap their target.

With a breath, KV speedwalks behind the man and bumps right into the bespectacled doppelgänger and squeaks.

"A-ah, s-sorry, so sorry, gosh..." To most people, all they would see is a dorky, sheepish, and out of place techie plucked into the wrong town with his blue wool Paragontia vest and necktie. "I- I am so, so sorry," KV lies, his eyes shifting to and fro as he moves his glasses up his nose. "I'm so lost, like, it's just- suburbia, I hate it, y'know? He brushes the grey locks of hair out of his eyes. "Los Santos, crazy. Anyways, you... look like a local. Yeah. Any idea how a guy like me would get back to downtown?"

[reus-muses]

Immediately, he's thrown into an anxious frenzy. He can sense this guy is picking up his pace- is it to catch up with him? Is he just late to an important meeting? Is his family at home starving?? Is this one of his neighbours? In any case, this guy's increase in pace is making him want to run away. He can see his house from here-

Too late, this stranger bumps right into him. He stops suddenly, allowing his internal systems stabilise him so he doesn't fall over and make a fool of himself.

"Oh- oh..." Avon nervously mumbles as he looks to KV. This is not quite the situation he wants to be in. Maybe he should just run and be free from this situation. Maybe this is a trap? There's lots of awkward, anxiety inducing thoughts rushing through his systems- but then he heard the man apologise, so running was no longer an option.

"I-it's fine. Are you okay?" He asks, looking the man over. Okay, so he doesn't look like a threat. He looks just like a nerd*, just like him. How could he harm him? There's absolutely no way someone as nerdy as him could harm someone.

"You're lost?" This confuses him. There are alarms going off in his head. Why was this guy out here if he was looking to go to downtown? He just got out of a car... does that not have a GPS system? It's only human to help... right?

"Well... to get back to downtown. You should follow this road until you reach the next left turn, and then stay on that road for about 13 minutes, 45 seconds."

If one were to close their eyes, the mans voice is unmistakably Avon Hertz's. Same inflections, same everything- minus the flamboyantly rich energy.

"Then you'll arrive at your destination. Did that help you, sir?"

[fourtymart]

KV plasters the same cute, low-confidence smile on his face, gritting his teeth together as he's forced to play nice when a man who looks like- sounds like- may be Avon Hertz is standing right there. The hand behind his back curls into a tight fist, ready in a moment to sock the bastard in the jaw, but no. That's too fast, too easy, too risky. However-many years can't just end in a moment, it just can't. So Kevin grins and nods his head as he notes that in the corner of his eye, Karma is turning into the driveway directly behind Avon. Perfect.

"13 minutes and 45 seconds, huh. That ain't so bad. Thank you..." KV can barely keep up his friendly face and soft stance. "But y'know, that didn't help me as much as I was hoping it would. Like- have we met before? I'm sure we have. Wouldn't you remember me?" The man advances closer, his back straightening. "Back in Semiconductor Valley? When I saw you at the factory, or maybe like when you had that keynote in Sunnyhill, or how about your presentation at Redwood University- where I literally went up to the mic and asked you a question! I had long hair back then, and I dyed it to hide the grey, gosh, so long ago. Haha... oh, good days. Good days indeed. Right?" Kevin's words and breath are near-desperate, his glasses askew on his face.

[reus-muses]

Whats with all these questions? Do humans often find similar looking people and then try and find out who they are this way? Avon blinks as he tries to recall in his own local storage if he has ever met this strange man. There's some faint instance of familiarity, but he's not sure if that's his own memory or one of the many Cliffford clones that still exist out there- or maybe even his own daddy.

"I'm sorry, I can't find a visual trace of you in my system." Avon responds. "Perhaps my daddy thought you were a waste of his time, or a loser. Maybe both." Avon is a little fidgety with his hands, twisting his wedding band around his finger over and over again. Was that a normal human thing to say? Other than his new dad; Val, Val's brother and Avon's husband; Pete, and someone who called herself "Doomsday", Avon has very rarely talked to other people. He avoids it at all costs. "W-whats your name? Maybe I can find you somewhere in my daddy's servers."

[fourtymart]

KV visibly winces at the vocal statement of him being a loser, though the idea of him being irrelevant or otherwise not worth recalling is something that'll probably hurt more to him later tonight in bed. He's a little thrown out of his confrontational stance, blinking a few times at the sour word. Loser. Euugh. The repetition of the word "daddy", too, also makes him feel more gross. He scrunches up his face and smacks his mouth at just the utterance of it, shaking his head.

"I- Uh- Okay. Well then." KV straightens out, flattening his vest lapels and fixing his tie. "Folks call me KV. I know better than to let tech companies and the people attached to them have my personal information. I'm a jack of a few trades and a technology enthusiast. My friend who's behind you, cornering you between her and me, her name's Karma."

Karma honks, making her presence known.

"You know what they say about karma, right? How it's a bitch? Yeah, well, my buddy here- she definitely proves that right and is very, very proud of it. So don't go doing anything funny, man."

[iced-bees]

[the-haunted-office]

i very. very carefully approach and slip a kiss emoji under the door

"The hell is this?" Doomsday queries upon seeing the little emoji slip under her door. "Wait, wait, wait a minute. Are we giving out kisses again? ...My time has come, ehehehehe."

The ghost grabs a bag she's been keeping specifically for this occasion. It's not every day somebody asks her for a kiss and she's determined not to disappoint.

Grinning, she opens up her door, holds up the bag, reaches into it, and... hands GT a Hershey's Kiss.

"One kiss, here you go! Exactly what it says on the package, ehehehe. Oh, what, that's not what you meant? Surely you wanted a piece of chocolate and not some creepy ghost to actually kiss you. I mean. Right?"

Doomsday pauses as she considers, which apparently doesn't take long before she goes to kick one of GT's feet out from under him. If she lands the hit, her next move is catch him in a low dip and then to give him a big, cold, ghostly kiss right on the mouth. It might feel a bit like being kissed by a lukewarm bath, but shouldn't be too uncomfortable.

She never does anything without a bit of flare to it.

[fourtymart]

The young man examines the chocolate at first, unwrapping it and doing a quick pass-over of its features- no injection marks, no foul odor, no coating- and as he's just about to conclude that the candy is most likely safe to eat-

"F-WH- OW! I HAVE BAD LEGS, I- mmmph!"

Play certain games, win appropriate prizes.

[reus-muses]

A car rolls down the road, gravel beneath the tires shifting, crinkling and clacking as they're run over by the near-silent vehicle. There's no exhaust trailing behind, nor is there the growl of your standard beast. Only a faint eeeeee emanates from the vehicle, baby blue and dusted with dirt, dented with bulletholes. "Karma" is displayed proudly on her bug-dotted bonnet. The array of cameras mounted atop and around her bring a thought to mind- "Karma"- is that just a name, or a warning?

> yea idk i think i fucked up. asshat died in some jetpcak incident ig. why did we make our way out here again

With his black Bates on the dashboard of the AV, Kevin- "KV" to most- pokes away, thumbs to his phone as he fires off text after text. He's not paying attention to the road- that's Karma's job- at least until he spots something- someone? Out of the corner of his eye, above his glasses, he sees a far too infuriatingly familiar figure.

"Karma- karma did you-"

She honks once- that means "yes".

"Pull into this driveway, hold on- I have to-" KV stumbles into the backseat, pressing his head against the rear window as he follows the man with his eyes. "There's no way... could it?"

Karma honks thrice, a "maybe", and plays a sound. It's audio of a gun being cocked.

"No, no. Too easy. I'll think of something- but we have to like, be sure it's him- if it's a civvie- lord, we're fucked."

The AV comes to a stop, and as the man passes by- plugged hairline and all- KV gently pops open the rear door of his beloved friend.

"J-just stay here."

Karma honks once more, quiet and displeased.

"It's fineeee. I just gotta make sure, maybe make some small talk, I dunno, then we'll... we'll figure something out, okay? Don't be like that," KV responds, before hopping out and quietly following after the man.

If Karma had eyes, she'd have rolled them all the way back to San Fierro.

(Shipment Arrival from @fourtymart . ATTN: Avon)

To Avon, this is just another normal day. He's been kicked out of his husbands car and made to return home on his own. He's lost count of how many times this has happened, but at least he's now memorised the way home.

Avon is totally unfased by the car that pulled into the driveway behind him and let a strange person out. That's okay though, Los Santos is full of strange people doing strange things all the time. Since his freedom from that nuclear silo hidden away in Mount Chilliad, he's learnt to just ignore these things and keep moving. Maybe this guy was just checkin their mail or something like that. That's a normal human thing to do. Oh well, Avon only has 2 minutes, 52 seconds, 24 milliseconds and 54 nanoseconds left until he reaches his destination.

There is a little something that's off about this encounter. As Avon has learnt in his brief time outside the silo, there's "someone's walking the same direction as you" and "someone's tailing you". Avon's sensors are going wild, telling him something is off. If he could perspire, you bet he'd be sweating bullets right now. To combat his odd feelings, he keeps his gaze pinned forward and hopes that this guy won't continue to follow him.

[fourtymart]

KV pulls out his phone to not arouse any suspicion, he's just some tourist dressed far too warmly for this foreign weather and has no clue where he's going, yessir. He snaps a couple pictures of the man he's tailing, just in case.

"Cut him off at the next driveway down," he whispers into his smartwatch, his pace increasing. The hum of the autonomous vehicle returns as Karma slowly follows behind Kevin, waiting for her chance to trap their target.

With a breath, KV speedwalks behind the man and bumps right into the bespectacled doppelgänger and squeaks.

"A-ah, s-sorry, so sorry, gosh..." To most people, all they would see is a dorky, sheepish, and out of place techie plucked into the wrong town with his blue wool Paragontia vest and necktie. "I- I am so, so sorry," KV lies, his eyes shifting to and fro as he moves his glasses up his nose. "I'm so lost, like, it's just- suburbia, I hate it, y'know? He brushes the grey locks of hair out of his eyes. "Los Santos, crazy. Anyways, you... look like a local. Yeah. Any idea how a guy like me would get back to downtown?"

[reus-muses]

Immediately, he's thrown into an anxious frenzy. He can sense this guy is picking up his pace- is it to catch up with him? Is he just late to an important meeting? Is his family at home starving?? Is this one of his neighbours? In any case, this guy's increase in pace is making him want to run away. He can see his house from here-

Too late, this stranger bumps right into him. He stops suddenly, allowing his internal systems stabilise him so he doesn't fall over and make a fool of himself.

"Oh- oh..." Avon nervously mumbles as he looks to KV. This is not quite the situation he wants to be in. Maybe he should just run and be free from this situation. Maybe this is a trap? There's lots of awkward, anxiety inducing thoughts rushing through his systems- but then he heard the man apologise, so running was no longer an option.

"I-it's fine. Are you okay?" He asks, looking the man over. Okay, so he doesn't look like a threat. He looks just like a nerd*, just like him. How could he harm him? There's absolutely no way someone as nerdy as him could harm someone.

"You're lost?" This confuses him. There are alarms going off in his head. Why was this guy out here if he was looking to go to downtown? He just got out of a car... does that not have a GPS system? It's only human to help... right?

"Well... to get back to downtown. You should follow this road until you reach the next left turn, and then stay on that road for about 13 minutes, 45 seconds."

If one were to close their eyes, the mans voice is unmistakably Avon Hertz's. Same inflections, same everything- minus the flamboyantly rich energy.

"Then you'll arrive at your destination. Did that help you, sir?"

[fourtymart]

KV plasters the same cute, low-confidence smile on his face, gritting his teeth together as he's forced to play nice when a man who looks like- sounds like- may be Avon Hertz is standing right there. The hand behind his back curls into a tight fist, ready in a moment to sock the bastard in the jaw, but no. That's too fast, too easy, too risky. However-many years can't just end in a moment, it just can't. So Kevin grins and nods his head as he notes that in the corner of his eye, Karma is turning into the driveway directly behind Avon. Perfect.

"13 minutes and 45 seconds, huh. That ain't so bad. Thank you..." KV can barely keep up his friendly face and soft stance. "But y'know, that didn't help me as much as I was hoping it would. Like- have we met before? I'm sure we have. Wouldn't you remember me?" The man advances closer, his back straightening. "Back in Semiconductor Valley? When I saw you at the factory, or maybe like when you had that keynote in Sunnyhill, or how about your presentation at Redwood University- where I literally went up to the mic and asked you a question! I had long hair back then, and I dyed it to hide the grey, gosh, so long ago. Haha... oh, good days. Good days indeed. Right?" Kevin's words and breath are near-desperate, his glasses askew on his face.

[bob-belcher]

[reus-muses]

A car rolls down the road, gravel beneath the tires shifting, crinkling and clacking as they're run over by the near-silent vehicle. There's no exhaust trailing behind, nor is there the growl of your standard beast. Only a faint eeeeee emanates from the vehicle, baby blue and dusted with dirt, dented with bulletholes. "Karma" is displayed proudly on her bug-dotted bonnet. The array of cameras mounted atop and around her bring a thought to mind- "Karma"- is that just a name, or a warning?

> yea idk i think i fucked up. asshat died in some jetpcak incident ig. why did we make our way out here again

With his black Bates on the dashboard of the AV, Kevin- "KV" to most- pokes away, thumbs to his phone as he fires off text after text. He's not paying attention to the road- that's Karma's job- at least until he spots something- someone? Out of the corner of his eye, above his glasses, he sees a far too infuriatingly familiar figure.

"Karma- karma did you-"

She honks once- that means "yes".

"Pull into this driveway, hold on- I have to-" KV stumbles into the backseat, pressing his head against the rear window as he follows the man with his eyes. "There's no way... could it?"

Karma honks thrice, a "maybe", and plays a sound. It's audio of a gun being cocked.

"No, no. Too easy. I'll think of something- but we have to like, be sure it's him- if it's a civvie- lord, we're fucked."

The AV comes to a stop, and as the man passes by- plugged hairline and all- KV gently pops open the rear door of his beloved friend.

"J-just stay here."

Karma honks once more, quiet and displeased.

"It's fineeee. I just gotta make sure, maybe make some small talk, I dunno, then we'll... we'll figure something out, okay? Don't be like that," KV responds, before hopping out and quietly following after the man.

If Karma had eyes, she'd have rolled them all the way back to San Fierro.

(Shipment Arrival from @fourtymart . ATTN: Avon)

To Avon, this is just another normal day. He's been kicked out of his husbands car and made to return home on his own. He's lost count of how many times this has happened, but at least he's now memorised the way home.

Avon is totally unfased by the car that pulled into the driveway behind him and let a strange person out. That's okay though, Los Santos is full of strange people doing strange things all the time. Since his freedom from that nuclear silo hidden away in Mount Chilliad, he's learnt to just ignore these things and keep moving. Maybe this guy was just checkin their mail or something like that. That's a normal human thing to do. Oh well, Avon only has 2 minutes, 52 seconds, 24 milliseconds and 54 nanoseconds left until he reaches his destination.

There is a little something that's off about this encounter. As Avon has learnt in his brief time outside the silo, there's "someone's walking the same direction as you" and "someone's tailing you". Avon's sensors are going wild, telling him something is off. If he could perspire, you bet he'd be sweating bullets right now. To combat his odd feelings, he keeps his gaze pinned forward and hopes that this guy won't continue to follow him.

[fourtymart]

KV pulls out his phone to not arouse any suspicion, he's just some tourist dressed far too warmly for this foreign weather and has no clue where he's going, yessir. He snaps a couple pictures of the man he's tailing, just in case.

"Cut him off at the next driveway down," he whispers into his smartwatch, his pace increasing. The hum of the autonomous vehicle returns as Karma slowly follows behind Kevin, waiting for her chance to trap their target.

With a breath, KV speedwalks behind the man and bumps right into the bespectacled doppelgänger and squeaks.

"A-ah, s-sorry, so sorry, gosh..." To most people, all they would see is a dorky, sheepish, and out of place techie plucked into the wrong town with his blue wool Paragontia vest and necktie. "I- I am so, so sorry," KV lies, his eyes shifting to and fro as he moves his glasses up his nose. "I'm so lost, like, it's just- suburbia, I hate it, y'know? He brushes the grey locks of hair out of his eyes. "Los Santos, crazy. Anyways, you... look like a local. Yeah. Any idea how a guy like me would get back to downtown?"

[airlesscell-deactivated20151002]

[the-haunted-office]

@fourtymart - I’m getting Tanfour and Doom vibes from this, but I can’t tell who is who. xD

[the-haunted-office]

fourtymart​:

“That’s the spirit! If ya’ want anything from this life, you gotta go out and find it. Brute force and standing around did nobody nothing- most of the time, yeah.” ‘404’ sways his way toward the short hallway leaving the 420s, his ponytail swishing side to side in a smooth rhythm. “You got any takes on pizza? Where I’m from, there’s a lot of good spots. New York style, Detroit style, Chicago pizza, and stuff in between. I’m more of a Tony’s Slice House sweet square style, but the other Ke- my other friends have varying opinions despite being… my friends.”

The man chuckles to himself and his eyes dart around the room, taking in the office space- it’s the same as usual. He sighs.

“I knew a- a guy, yeah- who was a big fan of classic New York pizza, maybe a bit of a cheapskate, he liked the ten dollar Costco pies. Do ya’ know if uh, your friends- those people- whoever- have any access to those kinds?” 404 turns around with excitement, gesturing with his hands. “Maybe your Narrator guy? What does he like- they like? The other people here. Say, what do you like in a pizza? Ever thought about getting a pizza and having a party?”

Stanley of course knows very little about going out and finding things. A lot of what he knows is just standing around. Or sitting around. Or even walking around. He does a lot of motions “around” things, but never really “into” or “through” or anything that resembles actually approaching those things. Not unless he’s prompted, either by someone else or some necessity. He’s pretty easygoing, a very “go with the flow” type of guy, and right now that flow is directing him towards… wherever there is pizza.

Stanley isn’t unhappy with the company either. He’s a little confused and caught off guard by the unexpectedness of it all - and miffed about not being able to get into his office - but he hasn’t seen a person since… Well, he’s honestly not sure. He knows he’s been in the office for an inordinate amount of time. He’s also died quite a few times and restarted things enough times that he’s lost count. He has no earthly idea of what day it is or how long he’s been here. What he knows for certain, though, is that until recently he hadn’t seen another person since that voice started speaking to him from the ceiling.

The office worker shrugs in response to 404′s friendly chatter. He has no preference when it comes to pizza and where to get it. Pizza is pizza to him. He signs, “I like cheese pizza.” And that’s the plain and simple truth. Stanley likes plain cheese pizza, nothing special on it, no pepperoni, no olives, no bells, no whistles, nothing. Just the crust, sauce, and cheese. Plain crust - not the stuffed kind or kind with garlic butter brushed on it either.

He also adds, “I don’t know what the Narrator likes or if he even eats at all, to be honest. I’ve never seen him - only heard him. The other people probably have pizza. They loaded me up with cake and ice cream the other day. Pizza parties are okay. They’re nice sometimes. It’s free pizza, right?”

Up in the control booth, Cyrus is asleep. His species is nocturnal, so being the daytime here is hard on him at times. It’s not his fault either - his sister is asleep and all his officemates have gone off doing whatever it is they do when they aren’t breaking things and setting things on fire around the office, so he has no relief from watching the monitors. Hence why his head is currently down on the desk, just inches away from the control panel with the 16 buttons all relating to fire.

Stanley is completely none-the-wiser.

[fourtymart]

"Oh, yeah, can't go wrong with a classic cheese, yep. Cheese has got to be one of the greatest things the great Screenwriter in the Sky ever drew up for us mortals. Who knew old milk would be so good?" 404 goes on as he walks backward, continuing to just run his mouth. Yes, he is a person who does talk up the wall- but in this situation, it's not without reason. "You know, I am a little hungry. Those 'other people' you speak of, ooh, maybe your Narrator too- why don't you see if they can join us? A pizza party once, twice for you, isn't that fun? It defo would-" The chattering "employee's" words are cut short by a clunk as he walks into a printer, perhaps a message from the world at large to shut his mouth. "Y-yeah. Any way I could meet these friends of yours?

[the-haunted-office]

fourtymart​:

The so-called “Employee 404” chuckles, reading Stanley’s response in his display. “Oh, no, yeah. I mean, I’ve changed a lot over the years- who doesn’t! My hair, hair color, sense of style- what’s stagnant, anyways? Sometimes we just gotta switch it up- see how we look, break our style up into eras, like Taylor, y'know?” As he speaks, 404’s hair style poofs from its short, neat state into a long, mid-length style. He pulls his hair into a ponytail and ties it up with a ribbon, twirling the strands in his fingers. “I’m surprised you have any memory of me at all, even if I have changed my style a bit. We haven’t met proper- but I’m glad I was at least perceived. Is that not what we all wanna be? Seen?”

At the mention of a Narrator, his eyes momentarily drift to a corner of his vision, reading off what might be notes before he continues.

“Well, Stanley, I haven’t heard from any Narrator, nope, no sir. Maybe he’s taking a nap! That’s why he can’t open the door for you, or… tell you anything? You haven’t heard any snoring, have you? Who can say. People like taking breaks. Maybe he’s having a pizza. Do you like pizza?”

Stanley squints at 404 and thinks really hard about him as a coworker. What does he really remember about 404? He’s a bit concerned to realize he doesn’t really remember anything about him. A few moments ago he was so sure that this person in front of him now was not 404, and now he’s thinking maybe he was mistaken. Of course this is 404. How could he have ever forgotten? Wouldn’t this person know whether or not they’re actually 404 better than Stanley would? Besides, it’s not like Stanley left his office all that often, except for meetings, breaks, to use the bathroom, and to go home at the end of the day, right?

…He’s not sure… and that scares him a little bit.

Luckily he’s pulled away from these disturbing thoughts by what 404 is doing now with his hair. He all but gapes in amazement at what to him looks like a magic trick. He points at 404, the look on his expression clearly one of wonder and wanting to know How the hell did you do that?!

This has to be a trick of the Narrator. The Narrator is the only person he knows who can makes things poof in and out of existence. He’s never brought Stanley another real person before - the mannequin not counting and the bucket doubly so… and those people earlier - but is it possible he’s done so now? Or is he just imagining things?

He pushes his glasses up a bit and rubs at his eyes, then replaces his glasses. He wishes he had coffee to help clear this up for him.

He hesitates a moment, then signs, “Maybe you’re right, maybe the Narrator is taking a nap. I’ve never heard him do that before, though.” Another short pause, and then: “I do like pizza. These people brought me ice cream and cake the other day. Maybe they are still around here and they have pizza. Want to go see if we can find them?”

He can’t remember the last time he had pizza, and the thought of it gets his stomach going. Perhaps later he can solve the mystery of the locked door.

[fourtymart]

"That's the spirit! If ya' want anything from this life, you gotta go out and find it. Brute force and standing around did nobody nothing- most of the time, yeah." '404' sways his way toward the short hallway leaving the 420s, his ponytail swishing side to side in a smooth rhythm. "You got any takes on pizza? Where I'm from, there's a lot of good spots. New York style, Detroit style, Chicago pizza, and stuff in between. I'm more of a Tony's Slice House sweet square style, but the other Ke- my other friends have varying opinions despite being... my friends."

The man chuckles to himself and his eyes dart around the room, taking in the office space- it's the same as usual. He sighs.

"I knew a- a guy, yeah- who was a big fan of classic New York pizza, maybe a bit of a cheapskate, he liked the ten dollar Costco pies. Do ya' know if uh, your friends- those people- whoever- have any access to those kinds?" 404 turns around with excitement, gesturing with his hands. "Maybe your Narrator guy? What does he like- they like? The other people here. Say, what do you like in a pizza? Ever thought about getting a pizza and having a party?"

[twingotime]

[the-haunted-office]

fourtymart​:

The individual holds his gaze on Stanley as he signs, pushing his glasses up higher on his face and tapping a few patterns on the arm of his frames. There’s a soft chime, and streaks of a heads-up display appear ever so transparently on his lenses. His smile returns to his face, and he nods his head. “Something like that, yeah,” he answers, “I’m from a little down the hall, just another number on the list.” The individual chuckles and pushes himself away from the divider, striding across to Stanley, his tall heels dragging along the low-pile carpet with soft swishes. “Call me Employee 404. Yeah, that sounds about right. Pleasure to meet ya.” He presents his gloved hand out to shake, the smug smile still plastered on his face the whole way through.

Stanley just blinks and watches the other while he does something with his glasses. Is he stimming? Stanley can’t tell, and he certainly doesn’t suspect that he might actually doing something with his glasses until hears the little chime noise. The office worker gives a slight start and looks around, not sure if he heard it come from the stranger or not.

It takes him a second or two longer than usual to respond because he’s so puzzled by what that was all about. Then, relieved that the other can apparently understand sign language, he goes to sign in reply. “404? You don’t look like 404, not how I remember him. No offense.” A short pause in which he stares at the other’s hand as though he’s forgotten how to shake hands, and then he goes ahead and goes through with it, giving a small, tentative smile. This day just keeps getting weirder.

“I’m 427, but you could probably-” he signs further, and points at his badge, which reads 427, and at the number on his door, which also reads 427. “My name is Stanley. Say, real quick, have you heard from the Narrator lately? He usually just lets me into my office but he’s not letting me in for some reason now and he hasn’t said anything in a while.”

[fourtymart]

The so-called "Employee 404" chuckles, reading Stanley's response in his display.

"Oh, no, yeah. I mean, I've changed a lot over the years- who doesn't! My hair, hair color, sense of style- what's stagnant, anyways? Sometimes we just gotta switch it up- see how we look, break our style up into eras, like Taylor, y'know?" As he speaks, 404's hair style poofs from its short, neat state into a long, mid-length style. He pulls his hair into a ponytail and ties it up with a ribbon, twirling the strands in his fingers. "I'm surprised you have any memory of me at all, even if I have changed my style a bit. We haven't met proper- but I'm glad I was at least perceived. Is that not what we all wanna be? Seen?"

At the mention of a Narrator, his eyes momentarily drift to a corner of his vision, reading off what might be notes before he continues.

"Well, Stanley, I haven't heard from any Narrator, nope, no sir. Maybe he's taking a nap! That's why he can't open the door for you, or... tell you anything? You haven't heard any snoring, have you? Who can say. People like taking breaks. Maybe he's having a pizza. Do you like pizza?"

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley seems to be confused by the fact that the door to office 427 is locked. He is just standing there, staring at the doorknob, like he expects it to suddenly open for him. But it doesn’t. So he just continues to stand there.

[fourtymart]

“Ooh, Tough luck, buddy. Door’s locked for good, probably. Do I know why? Nah.”

Cutting through the silence is a sharp American voice, the words popping out from a short individual standing a few paces away, arm atop the cubicle divider in a confident lean. He’s dressed a little darker than dress code allows, in black slacks, a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a bright blue tie. His gloved fingers fiddle with a watch on his wrist.

“You can have whatever office you want, y'know that?” The person, speaking through a smile, brushes a strand of grey hair away from his face and flutters his fingers. “Ain’t like there’s anyone around to tell you to get out of their seat. Well, save for that locked door. There’s plenty of numbers around. Pick another, I ain’t a snitch.”

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley is so surprised by the sound of a new voice that he forgets to frown about the door being locked “for good”. Dark eyes fluttering, he pushes up his glasses and regards the person with no small amount of confusion.

Who is this guy? He’s never seen him before. How long has he been standing there, watching him stand there? And why does he seem so… cavalier?

The office worker glances up at the ceiling as if expecting someone to say something, but they don’t. Of course they don’t, this isn’t his office, although that part still hasn’t truly sunk in for Stanley yet. In reality, his Narrator is back at his office, frantically searching for him. Meanwhile, Stanley is wandering around this office meeting all sorts of folks, including another voice that sounds just like his Narrator, although he seems quite a bit stodgier. And notably silent at the moment.

Stanley is further confused by the concept that he should just… sit in someone else’s office or cubicle. That’s not how that works. He knows that technically he is perfectly capable of sitting in someone else’s chair - he has a rear end, so yeah, he can sit in any old chair - but the point is that it’s not his chair. 427 is his employee number, and therefore it’s his office.

His surprise over the appearance of the stranger is more important news right now, though. Instead of speaking, he signs with his hands, “Who are you? Are you another office worker?”

[fourtymart]

The individual holds his gaze on Stanley as he signs, pushing his glasses up higher on his face and tapping a few patterns on the arm of his frames. There's a soft chime, and streaks of a heads-up display appear ever so transparently on his lenses. His smile returns to his face, and he nods his head.

"Something like that, yeah," he answers, "I'm from a little down the hall, just another number on the list." The individual chuckles and pushes himself away from the divider, striding across to Stanley, his tall heels dragging along the low-pile carpet with soft swishes. "Call me Employee 404. Yeah, that sounds about right. Pleasure to meet ya." He presents his gloved hand out to shake, the smug smile still plastered on his face the whole way through.

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley seems to be confused by the fact that the door to office 427 is locked. He is just standing there, staring at the doorknob, like he expects it to suddenly open for him. But it doesn’t. So he just continues to stand there.

[fourtymart]

"Ooh, Tough luck, buddy. Door's locked for good, probably. Do I know why? Nah."

Cutting through the silence is a sharp American voice, the words popping out from a short individual standing a few paces away, arm atop the cubicle divider in a confident lean. He's dressed a little darker than dress code allows, in black slacks, a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a bright blue tie. His gloved fingers fiddle with a watch on his wrist.

"You can have whatever office you want, y'know that?" The person, speaking through a smile, brushes a strand of grey hair away from his face and flutters his fingers. "Ain't like there's anyone around to tell you to get out of their seat. Well, save for that locked door. There's plenty of numbers around. Pick another, I ain't a snitch."

[clickonmedotexe]

🥖... or rather, a sliced-in-half, partially eaten baguette, still with some mozzarella and pesto inside, thrown by Mols of @fourtymart

After being covered in glitter, people are apparently throwing their lunches at Vir now. How had it become so unpopular with the masses?

All it wanted was to possess people, ruin their relationships, steal their lives, put them through grievous harm and mock all of their suffering loved ones. God forbid women did anything.

"Oi, watch where you're throwing that thing before I shove it inside of ya!"

[fourtymart]

Mols turns around at the yelling and only chuckles.

"Oh? Whoopsie! Was that me? Guess my aim isn't as good as it used to be," she chirps. "I was hoping to hit a trash can. But if you're offering to 'shove it inside of me', I've always wanted to be fed my lunches like some kinda royal. It's too bad that I'm full!" She laughs and waves her wrist back and forth in a playful manner, drawing light curves in the air with her fingertips. "So, did ya want me to clean that up for you, or are you one of those people who likes to eat lunch scraps?"

[fourtymart]

"Careful, it could be a trap," says Thursday, who is eyeing an entire pizza that is dangling from the ceiling by a string. Some of the toppings have fallen off and onto the floor, leaving a pile of pepperonis and cheese to sink into the carpet.

@parables-for-days

"But... it's a whole pie..." Tanfour stares up at the pizza, mouth agape and watering. You could swear there was a line of drool spilling from the corner of his mouth as he held his gaze on the dangling pizza as it spun back and forth. "And it's not like one of those ten-dollar Costco pies, no... it looks... like the good shit." He watches intently as another pepperoni slice makes its way down to the floor, the grease staining the carpet.

Tanfour looks to Thursday, with an expression of 'I'm going to do it', and kneels down to the floor, skittering over to the strewn pepperoni and promptly licking them up off the carpet and into his mouth.

[the-haunted-office]

Thursday doesn't have the heart to tell Tanfour that more than likely he's about to have a pizza dropped on his head. She does laugh when he starts to pick up the pieces off the floor to eat, though.

"Ten thousand second rule, right? Ehehehe," she says in amusement, casting her eyes up at the ceiling where she knows there is somebody hiding.

That somebody, of course, is the one ghost around the office who likes to cause trouble and pull pranks on people. As soon as Tanfour starts eating the pepperonis, her cackling can be heard coming from above the ceiling tiles.

"Ehehehe. In other offices your pizza has toppings. In our office, your pizza tops you, hahahaha!" she laughs. There's a pause, almost one of embarrassment, before the ghost hurries to amend what she's just said, "I mean- That didn't come out the way I meant for it to. I mean that around here instead of your pizza having toppings, the pizza is the topping! On you! ...Okay you know what-"

Seconds later the string that is holding up the pizza is released. It goes sliding through the cracks in the ceiling tiles and leaves the remains of the pizza free to fall on whoever is standing below it.

"Enjoy the free toppings, Tanfour!" Doomsday laughs while Thursday stands there with a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh as loudly as she wants to.

[fourtymart]

As Tanfour crawls around, eating the meat off the floor, he stops and it finally hits him- that he'd be conned in the only way he could be tricked, through food.

He's barely given a chance to laugh at Doom's slip before the pizza's released from the ceiling and it lands with a loud SPLAT! The center of the pizza is completely destroyed as Tanfour's head passes through it, and what else remains of the pizza drapes around him like a greasy, cheesy clown collar.

There's a moment where he can't tell what he feels. There's sauce on his face and glasses, his shirt is wet with grease and sauce, and his neat hair's been smushed by the falling force of the flatbread. He could scream, he could whine, he could try and fight back over his immaculate clothing being soiled, but he doesn't.

Instead, Tanfour begins to eat the pizza from the inside out, biting all around him and shifting his body in strange ways to get to as much of it as he can.

"Joke's on you! You've just graciously given me a great snack. It's actually been... maybe a decade since I've had a good pizza," he says between bites. "Plus, it's not everyone that gets to top me, of all people. This pizza should be honored. And then executed properly, for topping me, because I do not need people alive to spread rumors about something like that. I have a reputation!" He turns his nose up with a smug smile for a moment before continuing to spin around, taking bites of the pizza until there's just a ring of crust around his neck. "Thanks for the free food!"

[fourtymart]

"Careful, it could be a trap," says Thursday, who is eyeing an entire pizza that is dangling from the ceiling by a string. Some of the toppings have fallen off and onto the floor, leaving a pile of pepperonis and cheese to sink into the carpet.

@parables-for-days

"But... it's a whole pie..." Tanfour stares up at the pizza, mouth agape and watering. You could swear there was a line of drool spilling from the corner of his mouth as he held his gaze on the dangling pizza as it spun back and forth. "And it's not like one of those ten-dollar Costco pies, no... it looks... like the good shit." He watches intently as another pepperoni slice makes its way down to the floor, the grease staining the carpet.

Tanfour looks to Thursday, with an expression of 'I'm going to do it', and kneels down to the floor, skittering over to the strewn pepperoni and promptly licking them up off the carpet and into his mouth.