pizzatrocious

[pizzatrocious]

What a way for things to go, huh? There was many a time where he could've stopped far sooner, or even avoided this situation all together. Yet from the very moment he escaped from containment, it's all been just one big manic blur. Could you truly blame him, someone living his life as a scared, cornered animal? Constantly trying to run on gut instincts, even if they don't make sense to others?

"The hell's a guy gonna do when he's dealt a hand like that...?"

Time moved at a snail's pace for the two, the thoughts running through his head becoming slower and slower. He kept trying to pull himself together, but his body had other plans, the surface of his being constantly melting and re-forming. A pair of droopy, anxious eyes met the other's comforting ones, lingering for a while as he stared off.

He thought back to Italy, and the comfort she brought him even while in that loud, chaotic, otherwise lonely room. He thought about the way she'd bring him comfort when that hollow feeling in his chest lingered, a feeling brought about by being an incomplete set. He thought about the time they'd spent together, and the way it felt like a distant, lost dream.

He could never truly be mad at her, could he?

Not when she was always there for him in spirit. Not when everything she'd do for him was always for his own sake, even when he constantly set himself up for sabotage. Despite his protests as he was dragged off, he secretly knew she was right to do so.

They were two halves of the same coin, after all. Even if none of it was real.

"I know you're lookin' out for me... Sorry for draggin' you into this mess, Rosepetal."

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #saved 🍕🤡

[pizzatrocious]

They watched the night sky with a hollow sense of longing as they made their way toward the building in the distance. The night felt as though it'd gone on forever, and for them, it would. Both of them had accepted their fates long ago, long before this. For one of them, their fate was relinquished to passion. For the other, it was given out of love.

It was fairly easy to leave the battlefield, once the fog began to clear. Despite their struggle to stay together, the clones that littered the battlefield were little more than child's play to one of them, all the effort to dispatch them being in swinging the weapon itself. When the fog began to clear, they knew it'd be for the best to make their exit as well. After all... a sad, prolonged goodbye would be too much for one of their hearts to bear, and too much of a time-waster for the other, who was barely managing as it is.

The Peppino clone shambled through the slightly-damaged, unlocked doors of Peppino's Pizzeria, their body bubbling and struggling to hold its shape. Managing to find a pencil and blank receipt paper after a bit of a struggle, they sat down at one of the tables that'd been pushed to the side, the night sky through the windows illuminating them.

One of them spoke, but... not verbally. Instead, a voice echoed through their head, his otherwise rough demeanor declawed by his exhaustion.

'Well... hell of a workout, but we're here.'

@rosadolces

#shadough 🧁💀 #rosadolces

[pizzatrocious]

What a way for things to go, huh? There was many a time where he could've stopped far sooner, or even avoided this situation all together. Yet from the very moment he escaped from containment, it's all been just one big manic blur. Could you truly blame him, someone living his life as a scared, cornered animal? Constantly trying to run on gut instincts, even if they don't make sense to others?

"The hell's a guy gonna do when he's dealt a hand like that...?"

Time moved at a snail's pace for the two, the thoughts running through his head becoming slower and slower. He kept trying to pull himself together, but his body had other plans, the surface of his being constantly melting and re-forming. A pair of droopy, anxious eyes met the other's comforting ones, lingering for a while as he stared off.

He thought back to Italy, and the comfort she brought him even while in that loud, chaotic, otherwise lonely room. He thought about the way she'd bring him comfort when that hollow feeling in his chest lingered, a feeling brought about by being an incomplete set. He thought about the time they'd spent together, and the way it felt like a distant, lost dream.

He could never truly be mad at her, could he?

Not when she was always there for him in spirit. Not when everything she'd do for him was always for his own sake, even when he constantly set himself up for sabotage. Despite his protests as he was dragged off, he secretly knew she was right to do so.

They were two halves of the same coin, after all. Even if none of it was real.

"I know you're lookin' out for me... Sorry for draggin' you into this mess, Rosepetal."

I'm sorry.

What can either of them say to each other? They may have been temporarily safe, but the air felt as oppressive as Italy. (Did it?) The extremes they were driven to and the consequences that crawled up their spines. He began to shout, but she didn't flinch. It's not she he's mad at — at least, not entirely.

. . .

She gently clasped one of his gloves, carefully pressing its substance back into the mold of a hand. Noise 2 gave it a squeeze and moved on to the other deformed fist. She is gentle, careful, and quiet... But very clearly has a lot on her mind. She just needs to sort it out.

I know— I– I'm sorry, honeypie... She flattened his bowtie next. You were brilliant, too... Even if her first customers accused him of awful things. Even if they wanted to... A hiccup. The prop that wasn't really a prop, all of the shouting, and the vitriol against the pair just trying to survive. That girl in the trench coat, the employee she dubbed 'Noise 3.'.. was the only one that made her feel welcomed, as short-lived as that was.

Noise 2 smoothed out the edges of his mask, then cupped his cheeks.

But you were ... hurting. I was scared. I'm so, so sorry. I had to do something– I'm sorry. If I lost you —

...

Her hands rested on his shoulders as a sad, yet hopeful smile struggled to form.

I'm here.

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #rosadolces

[pizzatrocious]

SUPER sleepy today, but expect some good stuff by tomorrow night.

#ooc 🍕🤡 #Schrodinger's Shadough/CC.

[pizzatrocious]

It took him a while to process where he was, as you could imagine. Especially when he'd slammed into the ground face-first. It took him a moment, but he eventually sat up, melting and bubbling eyes surveying the area. They were FAR from the studio, that's for sure. And this place... it seemed familiar.

He stared for a long, LONG time at Noise 2. He had so much to say, and it was fighting for dominance as it all made a mad rush from his brain to his mouth. After what felt like an eternity, his arms were thrown into the air in sheer rage, slamming the soft earth beneath him. He lurched upward, his body still struggling to keep shape.

"...WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" His high-pitched scream echoed through the area, birds scattering to the skies. "I NEARLY HAD 'EM! HE WAS RIGHT THERE, BEATEN TO ABSOLUTE $#*%, AND MINE FOR THE TAKING! ALL I HAD TO DO WAS ABSORB HIM, AND THE LIFE OF LUXURY WAS IN OUR #&^%ING CLAWS!!"

He thought back to that moment, the other Noise completely beaten to a pulp and barely clinging on. Ready to be absorbed. First him, then Pizzahead. Then that world of caviar and fast cars was all his.

"I HAD THEM TRAPPED!! TRAPPED LIKE THE UGLY LITTLE WORMS THEY ARE, AND YOU JUST GO AND—"

And save him?

He thought back to that moment. He thought back to the way that girl that shared his Rosepetal's face jumped in front of his attack. The fear and hope in her eyes as she shielded his mirror image from harm. The fear of the inevitable, and the hope that her sacrifice would be enough to protect the love of her life. It was all so picturesque, like a scene directly out of a film... and it made him feel so hollow.

"I nearly... I just... I just wanted..."

Fists clench, shake, and melt. He tries to think of what to say as he stares at her, to absolutely no avail.

@pizzatrocious

It didn't matter what she had to do. As long as she got The Noise anywhere safe, where he wouldn't be found...

! ! TERRAIN ! ! TERRAIN ! ! PULL UP ! ! PULL UP ! ! ... They'd be able to pick themselves back up again.

They crash against the pavement, scraping to a halt. She yanked down on her ears in a feeble attempt to block out the cacophony in their brain. Terror. Betrayal. Guilt. Heartbreak. She recused The Noise in his time of need. She helped the other clone in the pizzeria reunite with Peppino. Hadn't she done the right thing?

Noise 2 sat up and scanned the horizon. Once she snatched her honeypie, her mind blanked — no true destination in mind. She sees... an ornate, black fence. A stunning mansion that'd surely make the drool in any other situation, fancy hedges, lush trees, and... her beloved lying with his face buried into the ground.

This was not how their second meeting was supposed to go. Bits of her polarized flesh returned to both her and him as she ran to meet him. She watched as he stirred, tears threatening to spill. Noise 2 wanted their reunion to be a happy one. One where she'd shower him in kisses as he scooped her up and spun her in his arms. They'd share a laugh, nuzzle noses and he'd ... propose, ready to begin their newly-forged future.

He locked eyes with her as he sat up, flesh still dripping.

And she is frozen.

As much as she wanted to wrap her arms around him... She understands the gravity of what she's done.

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #rosadolces

[pizzatrocious]

And that concludes the main part of this event! What follows now will be an epilogue to wrap up loose ends, especially with a certain clone I've intentionally neglected to mention.

Thank you all so much for playing your parts in this, it's been a great time!

#ooc 🍕🤡

[pizzatrocious]

He stared at her. Stared at her. Stared directly through her. His eyes were filled with so many emotions. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. Sadness. His entire being wavered as he watched what he saw as his beloved crumple to the ground.

"Rosepetal… what…? What the HELL are you doing? Why… why did you stop me, it—this is what we've been waiting for! SO WHY—"

He trailed off mid-sentence, eyes still locked onto her. He couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand ANY of this. Why was she here? Why wasn't she waiting in the Pizzeria like they'd agreed upon? Why is she PROTECTING him!?

"I KNOW things didn't go as planned, but we were SO CLOSE to finally being free! Free from the labcoats, free from the torture, free from THAT PRISON we called Italy!"

"WE DESERVED A CHANCE TOO, DAMN IT...! And if the ONLY way out was violence..." The show must go on.

Violence was the only answer that ever seemed to work for him. It helped him escape his prison, helped him to get his first contestant, and helped him to scratch the constant burning itch that was his deeply-embedded desire to make Peppino's life hell. It was, after all, in The Noise's nature to torment the Italian. Yet, at the same time... all the situation did was escalate further and further, into the deepest darkest void. Left with nothing but a world of people that hated him down to his very core.

. . .

Nowhere to go now but even further, right?

He took a step forward, raising his claws. Eyes darted between his Rosepetal, and his inferior. HOW? Since WHEN? Haven't they ALWAYS been together, through both the good and the bad? Whenever things would get bad, she'd always be there with her lovely food, that wonderful smile, and a nice big hug! Back in Italy, they—

. . . . . . This . . . . . . . . . This isn't her.

He supposed it made sense. Fake Peppino. Fake Noise. His precious 'Noise 2' was yet another, wasn't she? She was the one that was always there for him, through thick and thin, not the original that lay before him.

And yet, why do my memories of her in Italy feel so foggy...?

. . .

And why did that hollow feeling in his chest eat away at him as he stared at the original?

. . .

He continued to stand there, completely frozen in place, claws at the ready. There was nothing left now, and it was clear the other Noise was no longer in anything resembling fighting condition. Nothing left but to claim his prize, and continue the show as always. The show must go on. Forever and ever, show after show.

Show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show, after show—

He felt something suddenly, forcefully clutch at the back of his cape, yanking him close. Little time to react, as he was immediately whisked away, whisked away by... oh.

Noise 2 was quick and efficient in her rescue. In one swift movement, she managed to scoop him up and carry him off, her jetpack doing most of the heavy lifting as it propelled them. Kicking and screaming in protest, the Noise clone flew off with the other, past the main arena, past the barrier to the audience, and through the door that led directly to the NTV building.

In only a fraction of a second... they were gone.

Slowly, the arena began to close in, further and further... first, slowly reverting back to a circus tent, the barrier quickly dropping. Then, back into a television studio, much of the decor of the cooking show still remaining. Then, finally... a supply closet. Most of the debris was quick to be absorbed the the room itself, the Tower sharing much of the same magic that created the clone's studios.

As for anyone still remaining inside? They were forcefully ejected out of the room, spilling into one of the hallways of the original Noise's TV studio. Rows and rows of the previously-created magical doors sat outside, seemingly also ejected by the room. A long, heavy silence filled the hallways, only broken apart by the occasional murmurs of the still-confused audience and the denizens of the Pizza Tower.

. . .

. . .

. . . This was it, right?

With the clone completely gone, all parties exhausted, and the studio reverting back to normal…

The battle was, by definition, over.

...

It all happened so fast, didn't it?

Hiding in her little corner of the stadium - hiding in her little corner of the world - and desperate to NOT be found, Noisette simply never saw it coming-- not until it was too late. Not the stone rain of what had once apparently been the Tower, not the fog that managed to keep her more hidden from everyone else, not the clones somehow becoming more violent than usual. But even as the world seemed to turn on itself, Noisette remained miraculously unharmed and even more surprisingly unnoticed. Scared out of her mind, definitely, but unharmed.

Maybe there was a little Cartoon Comedy left to protect her.

(Or maybe she really was more useless and insignificant than she thought she was, if not even the narrative seemed interested in her).

Either way, it didn't matter. She had resolved to stay out of the fight and keep everyone else safe for her stupidity until it was all over, didn't she? So no matter if stone rained or if fog fell, she would stay hidden. She would NOT get in the way, no matter what she'd hear. She would stay put with Lonnie, close her eyes and plug her ears, and she would NOT cause more trouble for everyone else!

And yet.

Trouble had other plans for her.

Because in that moment, what had been distant yelling suddenly became much clearer dialogue. Unmistakeble voices. A sound not even her worst nightmares could've conjured on their own.

It was enough to get her to open her eyes.

It all happened so fast, didn't it?

The thick ocean of fog parts, making way for the pink shooting star she's become. Toon Logic or not, can her skates even go that fast? Can they handle that speed? It doesn't matter. She doesn't care. She'll force it anyways, if she needs to. There's just no time; no time to say goodbye to Lonnie --left behind, quickly yet safely tucked behind a piece of Tower debris, where hopefully no clone would find them. A kiss on the forehead is all she can give them in the end. There is so much more she wishes she could leave them, more she could've done with them but there's just no time and they are gone fast asleep. Maybe it's better if they are, in the end.

...

She wishes she could say she's doing this for better reasons. And well, she DOES have plenty of them! To make it up for what happened to that poor kid at the pizzeria. To make it up to that Peppino-who-was-not-Peppino. To make things right by CC, and that other kid (she's never known him, yet she doesn't think she'll be able to forget the name 'Ronnie' now). To make it up to Giuse...Gustavo, and Brick, and Peppino.

To prove that she CAN be useful.

To prove that she ISN'T stupid.

To prove that she IS a good person.

But the truth of the matter is: when Noisette finally brakes smack-dab in the middle of his trajectory, arms spread open and eyes shut tight, she does it above all else for very, very selfish reasons. Because at the heart of it all, underneath that pink bunny mask, Hazel is a very, very selfish woman.

A selfish woman who loves Theodore Noise more than anything.

...

It all happened so fast,

didn't it?

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #asterismas #emptyzone #end of thread. 🎙️📺

[pizzatrocious]

Just a man. That's right, Theodore. Just a hollow, hollow man chasing the constant rush of the next dopamine high. Sure, you loved your job. Sure, you enjoyed raising hell for the entertainment of others. But what does playing the clown leave you with when you have nothing else to live for? How far will you go in your antics before you can truly say it's too far? We're more alike than you'd ever wish to admit.

Hopefully, that makes your fate all the more acceptable.

"WHAaaaAaT'S THE MAT...TER, THeooooDORE? WHERE'S Tthe bRAVADOoo? WhhHERE, oH WHERE, ARE THE JOooOOoOkES? tHe PEOPLE... THhhEY NEED A GOOD SHOW!!"

He took a step forward. Then another. Then another. Sharp, melting hands reached out into the darkness to find him. To grab him. To suffocate the life out of him and feed the host. Your lifetime achievement award awaited you, Theodore. Be a good sport and receive what you've earned.

Red splattered across the clone's face.

...Then orange, then blue, then green... the Fake stumbled back, the paintballs causing far more damage than expected. He was, after all, barely holding himself together. The paint would fade into his body, but the dents remained. Losing balance, he stumbled backwards, further and further back, the top half of his body bending completely backwards...

Only for it to snap back into place, deranged and melting eyes locked onto his idol. Hungry eyes. Eyes that peeled your flesh, crushed your skull into dust, and consumed your innards. He took another step back, this time intentional. Another step. Then, another... All the while seeming more and more unflinching to the repeated assault.

That was when his body attempted to fully stabilize again, his grin widening further that it ever had... And he took off.

Mach 7.

He's not moving.

Yet, Theodore takes a step back. There's an intense uneasiness. He's worn the other down, right? Everyone who decided to remain in the audience wore down those extra duplicates. They should be done. But. There's this fear that begins to fill him. Like a rat who managed to bite into a snake's scales, realizing that maybe it should've taken flight the entire time instead of flight. Maybe he's just about to melt and he can just... No. It's never that simple.

The small, smug smile that had barely managed to creep onto Theodore's face was gone the second the other raised his head and looked at him. Those eyes. That utter pure contempt not even Peppino felt for him to that degree. That... Nobody else had felt for him. Many people had stressed this wasn't funny anymore, long ago. But at least Noise was able to stay on his feet, to match the other's chaos and silly at least to a certain arguable degree.

But now?

Theodore was nothing more than a mere man.

The howl is all he can process before the absolute unbearable pain begins. He chokes as the pain eats away at him. It's such a unique pain that could somehow be described in multiple ways. The sticker on his chest twitches a bit as the pain courses through Theodore. Like a frenzied rodent, he managed to slip out of the others grip by ducking down, the others touch making the sides of his face go through hell as he stumbled backwards.

Theodore screamed. It wasn't a funny 'NYAAAAGH' or anything like that, it was just... A man, screaming in absolute terror and pain. His instincts immediately have him running towards that paintball gun. Nothing else matters. He doesn't look at the audience, he doesn't look towards Peppino, he just needs to get the hell away from the other. Away and away, the other's touch is taking more and more away from him.

He's... Alone. More alone than he's ever been. Than he's ever made himself. Even if the audience WANTED to help him, they couldn't. The world is melting. It's dim. He sees the outline of the paintball gun in the distance during the brief moment of respite he had pulling away from the other, however it was quickly cut short by the other gripping him harshly again. God. Noisette. Noisette, I'm so sorry. My sweet Hazel. I should've spent more time with you. I got so caught up in it all, the Tower, NTV... Goddamnit. Goddamnit, you really don't deserve someone like me, do you? I'm sorry.

The man breaks free once more, a part of his cape tearing away as he does so, before he's on his back, kicking and crawling away from the other like a scared italian man. A weak, gloved hand feels around his right side, the paintball gun painfully close to him as the other quickly closes the distance despite his current state--

--And he snatches it, whipping it forward in front of him and firing as much as he can right at the other's face.

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #emptyzone

[pizzatrocious]

He lays there for such a long time. Silent, still, lifeless.

The sting of humiliation gnawed through him far worse than any physical pain ever could. It chewed through his flesh, nested in his core, and rotted him from the inside out. He'd fought so hard for his freedom. He'd done everything he possibly could to strive for stardom, tried everything he knew, did anything he could to pull in the views, yet here he was. Being mocked by his inferior. Being mocked by a nuisance. Being mocked by one of his heroes.

The clone slowly raises its head, beast-like eyes staring directly into Theodore's very core. He looks at him with contempt. He looks at him with Hatred. He looks at him with a feeling of betrayal as the other mocks his greatest struggle.

If he was destined to be laughed at and mocked, then he would share in that laughter as well.

A deafening, primal howl fills the entire area, the stadium lights shattering.

Though not left in total darkness, all goes dim. The studio walls begin to melt ever-so-slightly as the fog slowly clears, revealing that most of the duplicates had either been defeated, or simply stopped moving entirely. In an instant, the remaining duplicates were gone, all simultaneously dropping into harmless puddles.

He doesn't know when it happens. He doesn't know how it happens. He doesn't see any of what follows through the red haze. All he knows is that he's immediately in front of Theodore, claws gripping the man's throat as the skin and flesh underneath began to burn. His grip tightens. He stares through him. He waits.

At some point the inferior seems to wriggle free, but that only briefly staves off the inevitable.

He begins swinging. Nothing matters. Everything is blurry. Everything is red. His body feels numb. He keeps swinging. The force of every impact caused him a hollow pain in his fists that not even his unusual biology could help lessen. He wishes you could have met before this all happened. He keeps swinging. His eyes are burning. He doesn't know where he is. He just wants to go home. He just wants to see Noisette again. He just wants to survive. He just wants to hurt you. He just wants to.

Eventually, as he kept swinging his fists, he felt nothing.

Eyes snapped to attention, pupils struggling to hold their placement as he sees the other escaping from his onslaught.

He stumbles forward.

He reaches out for you.

He stumbles forward.

He grips your flesh. It burns.

You break free, only for him to pursue.

He stumbles forward.

The audience cheers. The audience screams. The audience laughs.

There is no audience.

Theodore watched, surprisingly calmly, as the other charged towards him on the skateboard. You could be taught many things. Sometimes people were indeed naturally gifted at certain skills. However, skateboarding was a pretty delicate art. If more people could pull a Tony Hawk and have fun with it, that would be great, but some people are simply too afraid to fall damn hard on their face.

However, when you make a clone of a chef, that clone is based off that chef's DNA, sure. But not skills. Skills gained over months or even years of participating in the craft. Those skills have to be taught to some degree, even if that clone is fully convinced that they can cook. When you make a clone of a rat bastard and force it to watch TV, sure. Snake see, snake do. But could one always replicate something 1 for 1 just by merely watching someone else do it, not understanding the basics and fundamentals of what they were truly doing? Maybe Noise could make money off of proper step by step skateboarding introductory videos, that would be sick.

The man watched in silent, utter bemusement as the other, well. Did exactly as he expected him to. OOOoohhh that's gonna leave a mark. A little snicker manages to escapes from him as he dusts himself off. Theodore isn't going to be stupid-- He still keeps his distance. Listen call him a wuss but have the same mindset as Pizzahead for once! He and the sticker on his chest don't wanna be absorbed! You don't know when someone is gonna pull a Freddy Five Night™️ and try to grab you when you get close. Usually when something like this happened some stock tea kettle sfx would play and he'd be attacked, but. Well, he didn't hear it. Regardless, still on edge. He takes a quick glance at the designated Peppino rubble™️, the audience, and then the general stage around him.

Hey, his paintball gun is still on the ground over there, which was also blown away by during the tragic bus death. Hm.

"Thank you, thank you." He bows a few times at the actual audience who were clearly fighting for their lives to some degree currently, but he couldn't help them right now if he wanted to thanks to that barrier. Besides, any moment he truly turns his back on the beast could be his last. "Whew. Alright. I could prattle on about how much you suck at all of this and make a two hour long YouTube video as to why reboots are often a bad idea when the original cast don't give it their proper blessing, but... Well, are ya even worth the effort now, woag?"

His eyes remain on the other, nearly unblinking. His gloved hands slowly clench in anticipation as he makes another quick look at that pre-established paintball gun in the near distance. A moment of peace was always followed with a damn nuclear event around here, so... It's not like he can just pull a Tower finale and take out a large bomb to assure the other is nothing but dust due to the audience. Even if the barrier DID hold in the scenario the writers weren't cruel (which, they are, Noise knows this), Peppino was still in here.

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #emptyzone

[pizzatrocious]

The Greaseball's words were met with just as harsh of a reaction from his own duplicates. Seriously, #&$% that guy. Who INVITED you here?? Why does Pizzahead LET YOU LIVE???

And to add insult to injury (Again, FUCK you, Greaseball), was none other than...

The skateboard. His beloathed. His greatest enemy, that he still kept close to him at all times.

"What, you think you're CLEVER!? You think this is going to be some sort of HILARIOUS OWN? Well #&@% YOU, BUDDY! WATCH ME LAND THIS WITH A PERFECT TEN."

Catching the skateboard before it could roll on past him, he shakily placed it in front of himself. How hard could this REALLY be? Yeah, he's taken some falls before, but... it'll be DIFFERENT this time! Nevermind the fact that he was skating on grass, the sound of wheels on concrete was enough to tell you logic was out of the window.

And so, he was off. Despite his history with skateboards and his current unstable existence, he took off nonetheless, rocketing toward the other Noise with the sheer force of the kickoff. He crouched low to the ground, his body squishing down along with his movement, and... he hesitated for a moment, eyes wandering about. The fog was there, sure... but were the cameras still rolling...?

His body lurched as he slammed a foot down on the skateboard, taking off into the air. The board twirled underneath him, keeping perfect pace as he moved forward, further into the air...

...Only to botch the landing, tripping on the skateboard as it still remained on its side.

He was supposed to KNOW this! After all, he watched others do it SO MANY TIMES! Why, why can't I do it too!? Was it the clone biology? Lack of practice? COMEDIC TIMING!? IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.

The impact was harsh. He could feel his body splatter against the ground as it struggled to keep shape, made worse by the way his body brutally skid along the ground, leaving a trail of his own orange bio-matter. He lingered for a while, completely silent... No excuses, no insults, just... silent, as he lay face-down in the center of the stadium.

He evidently wasn't dead, but he sure wasn't making much of an effort to pull himself back up, either...

He keeps laughing. Noise should've been the one laughing but he wasn't. The comedy in this situation went downhill the second that bus exploded. Even as Noise tries to create that 'safe' distance between the two, it's still so loud and distinct, as is the others words. Who was Theodore? A man who liked to annoy an italian, go to bed, wake up, have some of Noisette's food, and scamper off.

Toiling away at NTV. Constantly constantly constantly. Noise liked it! He liked the cameras, he liked tossing bombs around. He liked tormenting Peppino but being somewhat careful not to make him too mad, as he was on top of the tower. He liked constantly talking about how much pizzas were the worst thing to be invented. It was a fun game to play. A good back and forth interaction. Occasionally talk to the missus and go off. But...

Who was Theodore? Plot-convenient amnesia or not...

Theodore was tempted to say something simple. 'I like my girlfriend, duh, she cares!'. An obvious statement that he felt went without saying, in his eyes. If the world didn't care about him, at least she was there, right? Her being in distressed is what pushed him to do the 'right' thing, here. Maybe in another world, Noise and his Fake would've potentially gotten along, at least to a degree. But that certainly wasn't this world. So he just--

"I like collecting stickers--"

The pathetic little statement from the pathetic little man is cut off as he focuses his attention to dodge the anvil, jetpacking forward. As funny as that would be to be hit by that, he needed to keep up his stamina. Just outpace the other and you'll be fiiiine! He totally isn't glancing at that mound of rubble, praying he just sees Peppino in some crazy new anger form or something the next time he looks. Nothing. Welp, at least he didn't need to worry abou--

"A--"

--It's always golf, isn't it. It ALWAYS comes back to GOLF. You wanna P rank golf, guys? You wanna do that? Isn't that P Rank so FUN? HUH? He's suddenly forced into being a little wheel as the club hits him, and he plummets down right into the bucket at high speeds, causing the bucket to clatter around quite a bit. Primo Burg, ri--

"You LICHERALLY destroyed the Primo Burgs when you pulled that stunt." A Greaseball distantly said, before several Pizza Monsters yelled at him to shut the hell up, actually.

As the other may have been distracted by the sheer audacity, abruptly. Not another super silly attack-- He was considering taking out the balloon sword, there, but. He barely manages to get his bearings as he draaaaaags himself out of the bucket and then firmly kicks a skateboard towards the other. Okay hotshot.

Do a kickflip. Come on. It's simple. It's the easiest thing to do to make me look stupid for even kicking one towards you. The Noise. Come on.

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #emptyzone

[pizzatrocious]

One would think such a question would have a horrifying impact on him. Perhaps send him spiraling, make him feel existential dread, but... not really. Instead, if anything, it filled him with a stronger resolve. Those witty comebacks were a little charred, but were being pulled back out of the incinerator as the gears turned again. The Noise struggled with his true identity, whereas the clone never had one to worry about. He's always been The Noise, and he always will be. It was the one thing that kept him grounded in an otherwise existential hell.

And so, he took the spray of bullets, even took the bucket to the head, and the obnoxious clanging of the stick that followed. Despite the visible damage continuing to stockpile... he simply stood there, mocking the other with his laughter. Mocking him while watching through the eyes of a duplicate, as Theodore created space between them. Even The Noise knew getting too close for too long was a death sentence.

"HA! You really think YOUR OWN NAME has AAAAANY meaning to it!?" His voice rattled about inside the bucket, creating a distinctly metallic filter over his voice. "At the end of the day, NO ONE'S GONNA CARE! You'll always be remembered as 'The Guy That Played The Noise' and NOTHING MORE, Woah-ho!"

Finally gripping the sides of the bucket, he firmly pulled, a bit of resistance before it popped off of him and flew off-screen, one of the random Tower enemies crying out for their now-injured leg. Seeing the amount of the tower's denizens start to thin out in the main arena, some even turning tail and running to hide in the rubble, he called back a few of his bullet-riddled duplicates to him, a distinct sound playing as they merged with him.

"Can you REALLY tell me ANYTHING about yourself outside of your stage identity?! AAAAAAANYTHING outside of smoking and drinking to fill that empty void when the cameras shut off!?" Another beep was heard in the distance, an anvil beginning to descend upon The Noise with a long, drawn-out whistle. But of course you already know this classic, don't you? That's why you'll be quick to avoid it.

"The biggest difference between us!?" Pocketing his mallet, he was quick to rummage around in the hammerspace of his hat again. "I'M NOT AFRAID TO ADMIT WHAT I AM!!"

His stage identity was all he had as well, after all.

That bucket from before? It was now sitting upright, a good long distance from the two. Finding just what he needed, he rushed at The Noise at a steady Mach 5, winding up to swing the golf club that he now held in his hands. Always remember to aim where they're GOING, not where they ARE!

His eyes trailed over the the bottom right corner of his HUD that's totally been here the entire time, letting out an anxious huff of air as he realized he needed to clear this in one swing to land a Primo Burg scoring.

Seeing those dents... Maybe he didn't need Peppino, actually. One may say don't send an Italian for a gremlin's job, but he-- And of course, the actual audience, helped wear him down. Noise just had to finish him off. As Pizzaface yelped a few times from the other side of the barrier, multiple pizza monsters clambering to protect him from the stronger duplicates, Noise sneered at the other's failed attempt to make another duplicate. ...Peppino still hasn't moved. He's... Of course he's out like a light, he's still human and took damage before you managed to get there, idiot.

Isn't it funny how you're finally, truly pissed off, though? After everything you've done to everyone?

Strange, isn't it?

The other was clearly about to hit him with a speedy attack. A gun, while able to make dents currently, wasn't enough to stop that coming at him. He needed to have the other push himself while staying in semi-good health, himself. The sticker on his chest kept him going. Internal woags and thoughts of reassurance. Dis guy? To quote Sans Undertale, 'huh? haven't you beaten this guy yet?' such and such. While the audience was busy fending off what remained of the duplicates in the fog... He didn't crave their attention.

For once... His stupid little gremlin brain was hoping for their safety, to a degree, even if it was a small spark of a thought. And he still had no clue who else was in the crowd.

There's the big speed, though. Mach 8. Peppino got hit was this and was sent flying. So, naturally, Noise does the 'smart' thing and swaps out his gun for a metal shield that's twice his size--

--Only for the other to swing at him, causing the shield to immediately crumple and send him flying backwards and into the barrier in an instant, slooooooowly sliding down a bit as the shield, of course, fell off of him and hit the ground with another metal pipe sfx that I'm not even going to bother to link to since you all know what it sounds like at this point.

"Hey, buddy. Buddy. I know you're having a moment™️ but I'm dying to know your real name." He jeered, "You do know 'The Noise' isn't my actual name, right? There's a guy, here. Not just a character. You can make one up for yourself, wooooag! But, well. When I'm done with you, you'll have even less braincells to think one up, woag!"

He proceeds to take out not one, but two blue uzi's and hops off of the barrier, beginning to spray those bullets around, before the clips empty and he follows it up with taking out a metal bucket, taking the risk of getting close to dunk down, intending to slam it over the melting duplicate's head, using stick he of course had in his inventory to bang against the metal before using his jetpack to fly away from the other. Crazy ass fifty button combo there, Noise, but he's good at improvising.

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #emptyzone

[pizzatrocious]

Unfathomable anger filled his entire being as he toppled down onto his back, watching Pizzaface just barely pass through his barrier just in time. Surely his duplicates would quickly be upon him, but... no, no. It wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't be enough, and that INFURIATED him.

His eyes immediately shoot back toward The Noise, feeling the spray of bullets pelt him, doing a concerning amount of damage for someone that would've been able to shrug them off otherwise. Though his body managed to catch and expel the bullets just fine, the dents they left behind were very evident...

He still had ONE shot left here, but he needed to put in his all if he wanted to get it. If he absorbed the other, he'd be able to keep his onslaught going, until...

Eyes on the prize, then.

He thought of something witty to say. He truly, truly did. But each and every one-liner, every joke, every insult, it burned in the incinerator of rage with the rest of his thoughts. Throughout all of this, he constantly thought of the other as his inferior, and yet... something about the criticism stung in an odd way, in a way he couldn't even fully process. He's just an inferior. Just an inferior. This means nothing to you.

He had no choice but to leave the duplicates to their own devices, sink or swim. Though they'd become faster and stronger than the previous wave, their aggression was the product of the clone having to shift his focus toward the main event to a much greater degree.

He soars high into the air, leaving behind... nothing? He clearly made an attempt to create another duplicate, likely for more of his deceptive shenanigans, but the poorly-formed clone just... does nothing, and helplessly collapses into a puddle with eyeballs. He's quick to notice this, teeth gritting as he quickly devises a different plan mid-air.

Combine the size of the stadium, along with how many duplicates he's made, and how much damage those clones are currently sustaining, and...

He's burning himself out. His body is clearly beginning to melt, and yet... he continues pushing on forward. He knew that if he played his cards right, he still had just enough energy to bring this home. Adjusting his position in the air, he angled himself toward the inferior. Reaching under his hat to grab a large mallet, he pulled it back to swing, and...

Mach 8.

...he began to violently rocket toward the other, his hammer only helping to keep his momentum.

Noise quietly just... Leaves Peppino in the rubble. It's not like escaping with him would do any good, and looking at the crowd, well. He just hoped Peppino would wake up soon. He swears he sees someone reaching out for him, but his attention snaps back to Pizzaface as the fog begin to roll in around the ring. Wait... Right. There were multiple Noises. There were multiple Peppinos, so, logically...

...

The pizza denizens hollered and yelled as they did their best to retaliate. It was a cheese bath, really. Forknights getting the occasional kill by just standing there, sure, alongside a few small wins, but the chaos had sparked up in full yet again even with the Tower debris maybe letting up a bit. As the barrier begins to rise around the ring after clones probably snap at anything nearby or took care of anything that moved in the ring, Peppino continues to remain still. Still and still, cut off from anyone trying to reach out for him.

Pizzaface, meanwhile. The town bicycle, apparently. Whom's taxes was he doing? All of theirs? Let out a harsh grumble. He's clearly about to maybe shoot some lasers or something at Fake Noise and then leave to... Gamble, probably, but. Oh? Oh. The duplication trick tearing down his troops was one thing. The fog was another. He saw more people trying to escape in the distance, but.

O-Oh. Is. Is he a kinder egg, now? Has he always been one, actually.

The frisbee-shaped villain let out a harsh yelp. The other could feel cheese and crust tremble a bit as a more metal form was hidden under all of the pizza parts. He clearly resisted. As much as he could. The other was damn strong even in a 'weakened' state. Pizzahead-- Pizzahead. Whichever one of you made this thing. You guys need codenames or something, he doesn't know. Rule number one of making horrid creatures: NEVER make them stronger or 'equal level' to you. That's villain 101--

Gloved fingers quietly drum against Pizzaface's interior. He was taking another long rest after that one funny post, blog writer. He thought he was no longer a factor, but. Guess not. He feels so loved! Sorry that the writer of this blog got too hooked on the Italians to write the big bad™️ that you had to pull this funny on him, huh. Eyes remain 'closed' as he simply... Lets out a small pout as the hatch is gradually opened, as if this wasn't literally a scenario pulled from a horror movie. Classy.

A glimpse. Is all Fake Noise is going to get.

Pizzaface-- A bit straight-forwardly, mind you, harshly shakes Fake Noise off. It wasn't easy, but it was a simple solution. The mechanical fiend hovers up and backwards, harshly trying to escape before the barriers raise completely and impossibly up into the sky. You know what, yeah, he'll. Leave this to the troops and the current audience. Not like he was going to help but. Wow. Uh! Wow. That might've actually been scarier than what Peppino did to him, way back then. Before Fake Noise could try for that caviar... Fast car, whatever...

He's sprayed with machinegun fire. Alongside any stronger clones that remained in the ring. It's simple, straightforward, and it was already in his moveset even without the added inventory. Last thing he needs is this bastard to become god when Noise was now fighting solo.

"HEY! BUDDY!" He yells, as he reloads the minigun. "EYES ON THE PRIZE! NOT THE PIZZA! I DIDN'T CONSENT TO MY CONTENT BEING USED AS YOUR COCOMELON BUT DID YOU EVEN PAY ATTENTION TO ANY OF THE CONTENT AT ALL, WOAG?"

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #emptyzone

[pizzatrocious]

"Adachi, get the hell out of here before I make this event the least of your concerns."

"Okay, that's it. I'm killing this motherfucker for stealing MY shit if none of you do it first."

#crack 🍕🤡

[pizzatrocious]

One last stage hazard for you all, because I'm a cruel bastard. You're welcome.

#ooc 🍕🤡

[pizzatrocious]

One would think that now would be the perfect time for the Host to gloat. To showboat, to hurl a few insults, maybe even hurl a few towards the audience themselves... but instead, he watches. He waits. Perfectly still, eyes focused purely on where the duo that opposed him once stood. He needed to make sure they were BOTH down. If the inferior died too, so be it. It's a win-win for him either way.

Save for, well... the denizens of the tower beginning to fill the arena. Despite his intense focus, the Fake was quick to whip around upon hearing a familiar, staring directly through Pizzaface. No words, only a steady movement that resembled hyperventilating as the clone continued to silently stare.

". . ."

At this point, not even The Noise surfacing from the rubble was enough to rip his attention away. How fortunate that he'd get TWO chances to get his way. All he'd have to do is make sure the audience wouldn't interfere anymore.

The loud beep of a button being pressed could be heard just barely in all of the commotion, yet the Fake did not move. He didn't HAVE TO, it was all theatrics after all. Much in the same way that Pizzahead could warp reality in his own tower, so too could the clone in his own stadium.

Fog began to roll in on the audience. At first starting off thin, but slowly getting thicker and harder to see through in a mere matter of seconds. It only stopped short of the ring itself, only lightly obscuring the edges.

Then, the clone would reel back slightly, clutching its head... only to let out a high-pitched SCREAM that could only be eclipsed in volume by Peppino. In an instant, dozens upon dozens—no, hundreds upon hundreds of duplicates began pouring back out of him. If you thought he was done with those, you'd be dead wrong. The clones that poured out of him were significantly stronger, faster, and far more aggressive. It was a dangerous move to put this much power into this many, but it was a gamble he was willing to take. None of this would matter soon... not if he was able to open that nicely wrapped-up present.

The clone launched up into the air toward Pizzaface, claws at the ready. He latched onto Pizzaface's sides, and, after getting the slight leverage needed, he began to violently pull at the hatch. He knows. He knows that there's more than one of you. He knows that you're in there. You can't hide from him. This is his last chance.

He pulls and pulls as his duplicates descend upon the panicked crowd, some remaining behind to deal with all the stray enemies in the arena itself. A clear barrier begins to rise around the ring, just to ensure no further interference, as the world around Fake Noise begins to turn into static and blur. So close to the promised land. So close to stardom. I don't care what happens anymore, I NEED THIS.

While forcefully pulling, he swears that for just one moment... he makes eye contact with the one inside.

Noise comically swallowed his trumpet in shock as he coughed a bit.

It's not like he could witness the flashback, but boy howdy, was he the first to notice the host dramatically rise from the rubble. Never. That. Simple. The rat bastard couldn't be too surprised, but still looked gobsmacked as he sort of did a classic cha-cha reverse and scooted closer to the livid Italian whom's attention snapped to the actual Fake Noise.

The mocking smile. The charge. Peppino immediately pushes himself to charge back with zero thought. Zero hesitation. Noise's attention moreso darted towards the stage transforming again. Why was it getting bigger... What the hell was he doin--... Ah. That's... The whole tower. A distant sound is heard as the structure is taken out of the other's inventory, the sound of something large clatters onto the main stage nearby, but, well. How the hell is anyone supposed to focus on that when there's a literal mass of purple bricks coming right at you.

Hey, rat bastard won't say it aloud, but. He didn't realize that this was how the other was going to use the tower. Frankly, if it was him, he would've turned the Tower into a giant mech. That looked like him. And gave it Sonic 3 sound effects. But this. Uh. Sadly worked, too, huh? What else could he really say other than...

"ARE YOU F--"

"YAAAAAAARRRGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Peppino simply hollered. In retaliation, he punched upwards at his imminent doom. He might've been more scared had he had enough time to process it. A comically cut-off scream from the both of them was heard for a second, Noise's usual 'NYAGGHHHH' while Peppino, a rage-filled yelp...

Before they were hit, full force. Just like that. Chaos ensued for the audience, they couldn't truly imagine what it was like even if they tried. Peppino had no full moment of clarity. But just for a second, before the impact struck... The rage was eclipsed. He felt a single tear barely begin to run down his cheek before it all went dark.

I'm so sorry, everyone. I'm so sorry. You had to know me.

...

...

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE."

A voice boomed out from behind Fake Noise. That uh. Funny metal pipe clattering sound effect? Uh. Oh! Oh. Hello there. Guess who was asleep in that Tower this entire time, despite legions of his minions that were desperately trying to open his bedroom door to tell him that the entire Tower was pocketed like an animal crossing item. A nightcap nearby only proves the absurdity of the old man.

Listen, finishing taxes was hard work.

The dubious disc looked around. At the crowd.. Holy hell. Mario & Luigi? Death himself? Quite a few frog clones-- Some not looking so good at the moment. And multiple actual Peppinos, but regardless, some of the real audience was trying to flee, others trying to help others escape or get to safety. Uhhhh... He'd usually like seeing such misery, but. Legions of pizza monsters and other related tower denizens landing on the ground and trying to recover, others even fumbling to catch each other, Pizzards shooting magic upwards to try to stifle the rest of the larger debris.

His attention snaps to the rubble that buried Peppino & Noise. Cardboard hands are slapped onto the top of his head.

"JUST LIKE THAT? I WAKE UP TO THE TOWER BEING--"

Cardboard hands clench, before he sloooowly turns towards Fake Noise, his face shriveling up in absolute contempt for the beast. Maybe he should've discouraged Pizzahead from using his own DNA more in hypothetical future projects, though. He could never pin down the inner machinations of that boy's brain, nine times out of ten. Still. Pizzaface?

Not happy. Just like the entire audience right now, he is not happy.

"Tower denizens. The second you land, get on stage and atta--"

The rubble from where the two were hit shifts. Pizzaface glances over yet again to see Noise rise from a few bricks, coughing that trumpet, before wheezing. The sticker on his chest slowly uncrumpled as well. The pizza's brows raised a bit. H. How did he..? Wow. He looks like garbage but who wouldn't, after that. Pizzaface was only fond of Noise for a few reasons, but at the end of the day the man could carry himself just fine. Well, 'fine' in silly terms, that was.

"Okay. Let's say. Hypothetically. That you got me, there."

Yet another pause. Awkward stare from Pizzaface and probably a lot of the audience. Noise looks over at the rubble next to him. He slaps his face a few times, not exactly looking good as new but sure suddenly not looking like he just got hit by an entire tower, as he stretches as he gets out of the rubble a bit more, putting his hands on his hips as he looks around at the ongoing chaos for a moment. Good god. Then to the area next to him, again.

"Italian man, come on. No need to wait for dramatic effect. Get up? Lazy ass."

. . . Nothing. Noise removes some rubble, blinking rapidly as he pulls up an arm ever so slightly...

...To find Peppino attached, but, well. Certainly not conscious to get big mad, here.

#fake noise 🎙️📺 #emptyzone

[pizzatrocious]

Wiwi!

#saved 🍕🤡 #fake noise 🎙️📺

[pizzatrocious]

GODMODS BY INSTANTLY BASHING YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH A ROCK, KILLING YOU FOR THE REST OF THIS EVENT.

"I'M KILLING YOU. I'M KILLING YOU. I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE—"

#ic 🍕🤡 #scriptdeviant