Mall Fight RP: (CLOSED) (FINISHED)

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"Tox. I found some nerdy, obscure thing that was popular before you were born."

"Come on, Salt, I'm not even that big of a nostalgiafag! There are people even worse than me who cherish old shows that suck like hell just because they used to watch it and like it as a kid! Take the people who still like Mighty Max!"

"I found the Half-Life 3 beta."

"Pff, Half-Life 3? The beta? It's not like people care about it anymore, everyone knows it's going to be released at least this century!"

"Oh shit, look at this fully loaded bondage kit."

"I'll go look for one another time!"

"Tox, there's a thing here."

"...Is it Ricochet 2?"

"It's actually Ricochet 3: Ricochet Harder."

"...I don't trust you, bring it in front of the balcony!"

"I don't know where that is because I am blind Tox so you must come down here."

"..." I facepalm before throwing a fuckton of breadsticks out the balcony.

I walk away but lay the actual and totally real Ricochet 3: Ricochet Harder disc on the trap.

I crawl over to the balcony, observing the surroundings using Little Alice. After careful inspection, I jump off the balcony in an extravagantly outrageous manner, with the screams and the dramatic camera shots and everything. I land onto the bread sticks and go further on.

After maybe five minutes, I find the copy of Ricochet 3 laying on a trap.

The camera grows slightly darker as to set a mysteeeeeeeeeeeeerious atmosphere while I approach my hand over to it, slowly but carefully, while holding a bag that weights the same as a normal game copy. After moments of deliberation, I quickly switched the two objects over, making the trap unactivated.

I slowly get up and back away.

I pounce from the shadows, stabbing Tox repeatedly.

"RENGAR, BITCH!"

"AKLSHILWUEBLWBBGLWARGVOAIWHGOIAWRHBGAEBFWveilfiwalvefilawvielfwaile" I fire wildly around, hitting Salt in the ear and one of his legs before kicking the dust and respawning on the third floor of the area, on a corridor visible from the bottom.

"And in all this I forgot how fun killing people was."

"Same thing here!" I throw an empty dish at Salt. "Have a gift! It's a Somalian meal!"

I stare at where I'm fairly certain Tox is, and walk back to Sister.

"Alright, I've got another idea."

"...Come on, Salt, it wasn't that bad a joke! At least, not as bad as that one with the Muslim and the-" I get kicked before I can piss off another culture. I re-join the server and spawn in the same location.

I rescue Tox from Salt, "It never fails. That joke is always in bad taste."

"So anyways Sis, I was thinking for the next...competition slash date, we just have a murder contest."

"That's the point of the joke! Also, why are we in an undefined situation where you rescued me from Salt when I was not really that much in danger since he didn't post for like an hour now? Nevermind, he posted again."

"You are so meta, Tox."

I raise my middle finger at Waffles and decide through the fact that we're in an undefined situation that we're somewhere else in the Mall. "So, it's been a while, dude, where were you anyways?"

"Soul searching." I say, putting him down, "Mostly doing drugs. Lots and lots of drugs."

"And did it work?"

"The drugs or the soul searching? 'Cuz, the drugs worked."

I'm suddenly wearing a hawaiian t-shirt and cargo pants, holding a joint and having dreadlocks. "Yeeeeeeeeee, mon." I take that shit off soon afterwards. "What soul were you searching for, anyways?"

I pause for a moment, just staring at Tox. "My own, stupid."

"But, Waffles, your soul was there the whole time, in your..." I resist pointing to Waffles' private area, instead paying attention to the head. "Well, assuming souls don't count as magic."

I snap and wring Tox's neck, "It's a metaphorical concept in which the 'searchee' asks question about his or herself to learn there place in the world! Beside, everyone knows your soul is located in your private area!"

I respawn, I guess? "Pff, there isn't any world anymore. Or at least, I don't think there is any. I mean, we've been in this Mall for how long, like years? Months? Weeks? About 3 threads?"

"Nine months."

"Really? Feels like a year and a half."

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