End *all* the worlds?

[claudiometer]

So you guys are bringing down every apocalypse you can think of, the food service is unreliable at best, the bar's falling apart, and now everyone's translucent...
...And you get me stuck there to ride it out?
Why do I put up with you again?

Comments

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Yeah, when the world's about to end, customer service can really go down the crapper.

[claudiometer]

It's the bar at the end of the universe, they have all the things, usually.
But the jokers running he place decided to mark the occasion of moving host sites, they needed to have the apocalypse. All of them. And then, after letting a kid who got dumped in my world by accident ride out the mess at home, she sticks me in there to ride it out in the epicenter.
Do not want.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

We've never been out that far, but the mun has fond memories of the place.

Shoulda hopped a transport ship before shit hit the fan. That's pretty much our motto from now on. Dodge: get outta it.

[claudiometer]

I tried that. Much as I like the place, even I have my limits. Mun wouldn't let me. Seems to think I need to fix the stupid bridge device.
...Now she's wondering if you played back in the day and if so who. She's been in the game from day one, so (obviously not with me, my canon was five years away from existing at that point).

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Sure, but humans? Think a lot of things.

Yeah, you know her. She played that dead kid, and Mr. Roboto, and she'll even admit to as far back as this business. And now she's playing two-headed weasels. ...Hey!

[claudiometer]

'kay, none of that meant anything to me, but she's squeaking and going 'oh yeah!', especially about that last one.
(And she thinks it's relevant to point out she still remembers 'sometimes plots attack, and being stern at them never helps matters.'

...Yeah, I heard that loaded statement there. Still not happy.)
Thing is, I probably will end up fixing the thing. Got nothing better to do. Because my mun's being a pain in the ass.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Question: if you do fix, do you not die? Because if it's the same either way, not doing the job is the way to go to piss people off. We would know.

[claudiometer]

Well, if I fix, she thinks it'll help get the bar to where it's going. Or something. Stupid wormhole generators. Stupid fact that we even need one. Stupid LiveJournal all but kicking 'em out and bringing on this nonsense.
(Not that I don't buy the accessibility complaints, or the fact that someone with absolutely no web-design sense made the new comment pages. I get the reasons, but did they have to end all the things in the process?)
That aside, you tell me something's broken beyond repair, I tend to take it as a challenge.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Some people like to go out with a bang. Not us. We don't go big, we just go home. Not home to the home planet, home; that place sucks.

If we were stuck in an intergalactic bar ^{and why do good things like that never happen to guys like us?} we'd take it as a challenge to see how much booze we could drink before we lost all feeling in both of our necks.

[claudiometer]

Yeah, I got that feeling.
I mean, this is only not really pissing me off because I know I'm gonna be okay out the other side. But that doesn't mean I think it's any more fun.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Maybe you can get a t-shirt out of it. "I survived the apocalypse".

[claudiometer]

Well, I already have a t-shirt for the Artifact that almost killed me. Why not add 'I survived every apocalypse ever and all I got was this lousy t-shirt' to the set?

[twoheadsofcabbage]

I never got what was so lousy about it. ^{Free t-shirts are awesome.} What he said.

[claudiometer]

Considering my boss has said I dress like a thrift store fell on me, I'm probably not one to ask.
Don't know why he's knocking it anyway. You find the best stuff at thrift stores, and that meant I had more money for the fun stuff.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Exactly. Plus, like we're gonna pay full price for shirts that only have one neck hole.

[claudiometer]

Can't say I know many people who have that problem.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

You probably don't know the right people. Or you do, and you don't know it on account of you've been neuralized. It's a toss up.

[claudiometer]

::laughs:: In my line of work, they'd have to get past Mrs. F first.
and then we'd probably confiscate the neuralizers. That's how we roll.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Good luck with that. Those guys do not like when you touch their stuff.

What exactly is your line of work?

[claudiometer]

Warehouse 13. As I heard it summed up once, we retrieve dangerous objects.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Who do you sell them to?

[claudiometer]

...We don't sell them. We store them.
Seriously.
[Sorry, the MacPherson business is still pretty fresh on her mind. People selling Artifacts is a biiit of a sore spot.]

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Yeah, but how do you get paid?

[Getting paid is very important when you have two mouths to feed and both of them are yours.]

[claudiometer]

By the people who run the Warehouse, of course.
Or possibly the US government, though it's not technically a government entity. It's complicated.

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Right...

[Neither of them look like they're good with complicated.]

[claudiometer]

[Yeah, she got that feeling. Two heads, no brains.]
Collecting the Artifacts is the job. There is no 'and after that.'

[twoheadsofcabbage]

[Phenomenal cosmic powers: itty bitty living space. ...No, wait: that's Aladdin.]

Sure. Until your boss shows up, shoves her neural roots in your ears, and gets exploded. ^{Which she kinda had coming.} She kind of did.

[claudiometer]

...
......
...You need a better boss, dude.
[Also she reeeeeeeally can't picture Mrs. F doing that.]

[twoheadsofcabbage]

Tell me something we don't know.