Chapter Text
The summoning was instantaneous and disorienting.
Grass Wonder felt reality compress, then snap back into focus. She stood on cracked asphalt, surrounded by brick buildings that looked like they'd been copy-pasted from every American downtown ever filmed. Graffiti covered the walls—some of it artistic, most of it just crude drawings and illegible tags. Car alarms wailed in the distance. Someone was blasting music, a repeating electronic beat that made her ears twitch.
She looked down at herself. Her racing silks were gone, replaced by casual civilian clothing—jeans, a simple blouse, comfortable shoes. Her horse ears remained, twitching at the cacophony of noise flooding the street.
"Status check," a voice said beside her.
Grass Wonder turned. A woman in tactical-looking casual wear—cargo pants, fitted jacket, practical boots—stood with military posture, scanning their surroundings with sharp efficiency. Silver-white hair, golden eyes, an air of absolute competence.
"Oh! Hello!" Grass Wonder immediately bowed slightly, her upbringing demanding politeness even in confusion. "I'm Grass Wonder. It's a pleasure to work with you!"
"Lyfe Bestla." The woman's assessment completed, she faced Grass Wonder. "Designation: Companion. Assignment location: unknown. Operator status: pending connection."
"Right, yes, I'm also a Companion!" Grass Wonder tried to match Lyfe's professional tone but couldn't quite suppress her natural friendliness. "Do you know what kind of assignment this is? The architecture suggests an urban environment, possibly modern American setting based on the building styles and—"
"ALRIGHT BITCHES, DADDY'S HOME!"
Both Companions froze.
The voice boomed through their connection—their Operator's voice chat crackling to life with aggressive enthusiasm. A figure appeared down the street, sprinting toward them with the frantic energy of someone who'd consumed too much caffeine. The username floating above his head read: ChairLordSupreme
Grass Wonder's smile remained fixed on her face, though her eye twitched slightly. "Our... Operator?"
"Affirmative," Lyfe said flatly.
ChairLordSupreme skidded to a stop in front of them, his character model, a default citizen in a cheap suit, then spam emotes. "OH SHIT, YOU'RE HERE! Perfect! Okay, listen up, we're doing something LEGENDARY today!"
"Sir, what are our mission parameters?" Lyfe asked immediately.
"Mission para—okay, okay, I like you already. You sound military as fuck. I'm calling you Sarge Jr."
Lyfe's expression didn't change, but Grass Wonder noticed the slight tension in her jaw. "My name is Lyfe Bestla, Operator."
"Yeah, and I'm renaming you Sarge Jr. because that's way cooler. And you—" He turned to Grass Wonder, and she could practically feel his grin through the screen. "Horse Girl."
"I... my name is Grass Wonder, actually—"
"Nah, you got horse ears. Horse Girl. Done. Anyway, we're opening a FURNITURE STORE!"
Silence.
Grass Wonder processed this. "A... furniture store?"
"FUCK YEAH! Look, I spawned near this empty building, right? And I'm thinking, everyone on this server is running around doing crime and cops-and-robbers bullshit, but you know what they DON'T have? QUALITY FURNITURE AT AFFORDABLE PRICES!"
Lyfe was already moving, checking the building ChairLordSupreme was gesturing at—a two-story structure with large windows, perfect for retail display. "Defensible. Good visibility. Central location. Acceptable."
"See? Sarge Jr. gets it! Come on, let's set up shop!"
The next twenty minutes were a chaotic blur of prop placement and increasingly frantic organization.
ChairLordSupreme spawned furniture with the manic energy of someone who'd had this idea for approximately five minutes and was now fully committed. Chairs. Tables. Couches. A grandfather clock. Three bathtubs for some reason. A shopping cart full of watermelons.
"Operator," Lyfe said, examining the watermelon cart. "This is not furniture."
"It's DECORATIVE, Sarge Jr. It's called AMBIANCE!"
Grass Wonder was arranging chairs in neat rows, trying to create some semblance of order. "Perhaps we could organize by style? Dining furniture here, living room sets there—"
"Horse Girl, you're a GENIUS! This is why I love you guys—you're like, actually helpful!"
Despite the chaos, Grass Wonder felt a small surge of pride. She was good at organization. This was something she could understand. "Thank you, sir! I'll continue arranging the display area!"
A player ran past outside, screaming into voice chat. "FUCK THE POLICE! FUCK THE MAYOR! ANARCHY FOREVER!"
Grass Wonder paused mid-chair-placement. "What was that about?"
"DarkRP server politics," Lyfe said, not looking up from arranging tactical couches into a defensive formation. "Ignore it."
"But shouldn't we—"
"WE'RE FURNITURE NEUTRAL!" ChairLordSupreme announced. "We sell to EVERYONE! Cops, criminals, anarchists, that weird guy who keeps trying to start a cult—EVERYONE NEEDS CHAIRS!"
This... made a strange kind of sense, Grass Wonder supposed.
The store was starting to take shape. Grass Wonder had created distinct sections—dining, bedroom, living room, outdoor (which was mostly the bathtubs). Lyfe had somehow turned the upper floor into what looked like a fortified warehouse with clear sightlines. ChairLordSupreme had placed approximately forty watermelons in various locations.
"Alright, now we need SIGNAGE!" Their Operator was already spawning text screens. "Furniture Emporium? No, too formal. Chair World? Nah, we sell more than chairs. Oh! Oh shit, I got it—"
A massive neon sign appeared above the storefront: "SIT HAPPENS - Quality Furniture & Stuff"
Grass Wonder stared at it. "That's... very creative, sir."
"It's a pun, Horse Girl! Get it? Sit? Like shit, but sit? Because furniture?"
"I understood the pun, yes."
Lyfe was checking inventory. "We have forty-seven chairs, twelve tables, eight couches, three beds, seventeen bathtubs, and ninety-three watermelons."
"PERFECT! Now we just need CUSTOMERS!"
As if summoned by his words, the door burst open.
The first customer was a player named "xXDarkAssassinXx" dressed in all black, carrying what appeared to be a samurai sword.
"Yo, you selling chairs?"
ChairLordSupreme's character did a weird spin. "FUCK YEAH WE'RE SELLING CHAIRS! Welcome to Sit Happens, where your ass meets class! What are you looking for today?"
"I need like, an evil chair. For my evil lair."
Grass Wonder stepped forward, her customer service instincts kicking in. "We have several options that might suit your aesthetic! This leather chair has a very commanding presence, or perhaps this ornate throne-style—"
"Damn, your NPC is good."
Grass Wonder blinked. "I'm not an—"
"She's my COMPANION AI!" ChairLordSupreme interrupted. "Valve's new system! She's like, hyper-realistic!"
"That's sick. I'll take the throne."
The transaction completed smoothly. Money exchanged—whatever DarkRP economy was running on this server. DarkAssassinXx left with his evil throne, and Grass Wonder felt genuinely pleased.
"That went well!" she said brightly.
"First sale!" ChairLordSupreme was ecstatic. "See? This is gonna be LEGENDARY!"
The second customer arrived thirty seconds later.
"AENGUS" stumbled through the door—and Grass Wonder's breath caught.
The player model was a corpse. He looked absolutely burnt, mutilated, the charred texture making it look like something that had been pulled from a fire. It moved with surprisingly livelike movement, as if he was still a healthy person.
"Oi, you got any bins?" The voice was cheerful, completely at odds with the horrifying visual.
Grass Wonder stood frozen. That's a dead body. That's a moving dead body. Why is a dead body asking about bins—
"Uh, bins?" ChairLordSupreme sounded uncertain.
"Yeah mate, bins. Trash cans. I'm a hobo, innit. Need somewhere to store me shite."
Lyfe stepped forward smoothly, her military composure unshaken. "We have several container options. This metal drum, or this wooden crate—"
"Crate's perfect! How much?"
The transaction completed. AENGUS left with his crate, and Grass Wonder realized she'd been holding her breath.
"What... what was that?"
"Hobo player, duh" ChairLordSupreme said, as if Special Week was the weirdo. "They use corpse models."
"But WHY?!"
"Unclear. Operator humor, possibly." Lyfe chimed in.
After a brief pause, ChairLordSupreme was laughing. "Dude, Horse Girl, you looked TERRIFIED! It's just a player skin!"
"It's a CORPSE!"
"Yeah, and he bought a crate! That's good business!"
More players started filtering in. Some were normal-looking citizens. Others were cops in uniform. One was another burnt corpse-hobo. Another player had somehow made their model's head comically large.
Grass Wonder handled each customer with determined professionalism, even when they made increasingly bizarre requests:
"You got racing chairs?" "Do tables come in purple?" "CAN I BUY ALL YOUR WATERMELONS?!" "Bro, I need seventeen bathtubs. Don't ask why."
Lyfe managed inventory with military precision, restocking items as they sold, maintaining the floor layout, occasionally repositioning things when players knocked them over.
And ChairLordSupreme provided running commentary:
"BUSINESS IS BOOMING!" "Sarge Jr., we're running low on couches!" "Horse Girl, guy at the counter needs help!" "WHY DID THAT DUDE BUY FORTY WATERMELONS?!"
Despite the chaos—or perhaps because of it—Grass Wonder found herself... enjoying this? It was structured. It had purpose. People came in, she helped them, they left happy. This was something she understood.
Until the Eastern Europeans arrived.
The door opened and three players entered, their usernames in Cyrillic: "НочнойВолк", "Пьяный_Гопник", and “НочнойХакер”.
Hardbass immediately started playing through proximity voice chat. Loud, aggressive, unmistakable.
"СУКА БЛЯТЬ, THIS PLACE HAS CHAIRS?!"
"Look at this shit, bratukha! AMERICAN FURNITURE!"
"Blyat, we need chairs for the squat spot!"
Grass Wonder stood very straight, smile fixed in place. "Welcome to Sit Happens! How can I help you gentlemen today?"
All three players stopped and stared at her.
Then, in unison, did the gopnik squat—their character models folding into that distinctive Slavic crouch.
"ДЕВОЧКА SPEAKS ENGLISH! VERY GOOD!"
Lyfe appeared at Grass Wonder's shoulder. "They're requesting seating equipment."
"I gathered that, yes."
ChairLordSupreme was trying not to laugh. "Dude, just sell them chairs. These guys are hilarious."
НочнойВолк pointed at a display. "We take ALL CHAIR! For squat competition!"
"All of them?" Grass Wonder calculated quickly. "That's... twenty-seven chairs."
"DA! We pay! Good price for furniture empire!"
The transaction was chaotic. The three players kept squatting, kept blasting hardbass, kept shouting in rapid-fire Russian mixed with broken English. At one point, Пьяный_Гопник tried to squat ON the chairs while carrying them, which caused a physics glitch that sent three chairs flying through the wall.
"BLYAT! CHAIR HAS WINGS!"
"AMERICAN FURNITURE TOO POWERFUL!"
"PHYSICS IS BROKEN, THIS IS WHY RUSSIA BETTER!"
They eventually left with seventeen chairs (ten had glitched into the void), still squatting, hardbass fading as they moved down the street.
Grass Wonder stood in the aftermath, one ear twitching. "What... just happened?"
"Cross-cultural commerce," Lyfe said flatly.
"They were SQUATTING the entire time!"
"Regional custom, possibly."
"ONE OF THEM CALLED ME ДЕВОЧКА!"
"Term of address. Probably non-hostile."
ChairLordSupreme was dying laughing. "Oh my god, Horse Girl, your FACE! You looked so confused!"
"I WAS confused! They bought chairs while SQUATTING!"
"That's the Eastern European DarkRP experience, baby! Get used to it!"
Before Grass Wonder could respond, someone outside started screaming.
"THE COPS KILLED MY DOG!"
"YOUR 'DOG' WAS A FUCKING EXPLOSIVE BARREL!"
"HE WAS A GOOD BOY!"
Gunfire. Yelling. The sound of someone's mic peaking as they screamed directly into it.
Grass Wonder looked at Lyfe. "Should we—"
"Remain neutral. Furniture sales are non-combative."
"But—"
"Horse Girl, Sarge Jr. is right!" ChairLordSupreme was already spawning more inventory. "We don't get involved in server drama! We're SWITZERLAND! Neutral furniture Switzerland!"
More customers arrived, apparently fleeing the chaos outside. Business continued. Grass Wonder smiled and helped and organized, even as the sounds of urban warfare echoed through the streets.
This was fine. This was normal. This was just... retail work.
Two hours into the operation, ChairLordSupreme had an idea.
"Guys. GUYS. I just thought of something GENIUS."
Grass Wonder was reorganizing the dining section for the third time. "What is it, sir?"
"What if we... DELIVERED furniture?"
Lyfe looked up from inventory management. "Logistics?"
"Fuck logistics! We'll CATAPULT furniture to customers!"
Silence.
"Sir," Grass Wonder said carefully, "did you say... catapult?"
"YEAH! Think about it! Customer orders a chair, we launch it at their base! It's FAST! It's EFFICIENT! It's HILARIOUS!"
"It's tactically unsound," Lyfe said immediately. "Projectile trajectory would be unpredictable. Furniture integrity would be compromised. Customer satisfaction would decrease significantly."
"Or," ChairLordSupreme countered, "it would be FUCKING AWESOME and people would talk about us FOREVER!"
Grass Wonder tried reason. "Sir, perhaps we could consider a more traditional delivery method? Walking the furniture over, or using a vehicle—"
"BORING! We're building a catapult!"
He was already spawning props—wooden beams, ropes, a physics thruster. Within minutes, a horrifying contraption had taken shape in the alley behind the store. It looked less like a proper catapult and more like something that would appear in an OSHA violations training video.
"This is unsafe," Lyfe observed.
"That's what makes it GREAT!"
"Sir, please—" Grass Wonder started.
"Horse Girl, load a chair!"
Against her better judgment, Grass Wonder carefully placed a wooden chair in the catapult's basket. ChairLordSupreme adjusted the angle, did some mental math that was definitely wrong, and activated the thruster.
The chair launched.
It sailed through the air in a beautiful arc. For a moment, Grass Wonder thought it might actually work.
Then it hit a building at terminal velocity and exploded into fragments.
"FUCK YEAH!" ChairLordSupreme was ecstatic. "Let's do another one!"
"Sir, the chair was destroyed—"
"EXACTLY! It's AGGRESSIVE MARKETING!"
They launched seven more chairs. Three hit buildings. Two hit cars. One somehow achieved orbit. The last one hit a cop, who immediately opened fire on the furniture store.
"OFFICER DOWN! OFFICER DOWN! FURNITURE IS ARMED!"
"WE'RE BEING ATTACKED BY CHAIRS!"
"WHO WEAPONIZED FURNITURE?!"
ChairLordSupreme was crying with laughter. "Oh my god, we started a furniture incident!"
Grass Wonder watched cops take cover behind cars, scanning the sky for more projectile chairs, and felt her understanding of reality bending slightly. "This is not how retail works."
"It is now, Horse Girl!"
Lyfe was already planning defensive positions. "If law enforcement retaliates, we'll need cover. Suggest moving heavy furniture to windows."
"We're not fortifying the furniture store!" Grass Wonder protested.
"Tactical necessity."
"It's a FURNITURE STORE!"
Another chair launched, this one hitting a hobo who'd been minding his own business. He respawned, saw the catapult, and immediately ran over.
"OI! Can I use that?!"
ChairLordSupreme was delighted. "FUCK YEAH, BRO! LAUNCH WHATEVER YOU WANT!"
The hobo, Porko, loaded himself into the catapult.
"Wait—" Grass Wonder started.
THWUMP.
Porko launched across downtown, screaming the entire way, and crashed through a second-story window.
From inside the building: "WHAT THE FUCK?!"
"A HOBO JUST CAME THROUGH MY WALL!"
"THIS SERVER IS FUCKING BROKEN!"
ChairLordSupreme was on the ground, character model rolling with laughter. "THIS! THIS IS CONTENT! Sarge Jr., Horse Girl, we're LEGENDS now!"
Grass Wonder stared at the catapult, at the hobo-shaped hole in the building, at the cops still hiding from furniture attacks.
"I want to go home," she said quietly.
"Home is FURNITURE WARFARE!" ChairLordSupreme declared.
Lyfe, entirely serious: "Adaptation is survival."
More players were gathering now, drawn by the chaos. Some wanted to use the catapult. Others wanted to buy furniture. One guy wanted to know if they accepted Bitcoin (they did not). Another asked if they could launch couches (yes, but poorly).
The furniture store had become the center of downtown chaos, and Grass Wonder stood in the middle of it, smiling politely while internally screaming.
Twenty minutes later, a player approached. He was dressed in shabby clothing, definitely a hobo player, username "Jonkr" floating above his model.
"Oi mate, you selling protection?"
Grass Wonder, exhausted and running on pure customer service autopilot, smiled brightly. "Oh yes! We have several protective furniture covers, and some of our tables have reinforced—"
"Nah mate, like, PROTECTION. You know." Jonkr made a gun gesture with his hand.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand—"
ChairLordSupreme cut in, apparently as confused as Grass Wonder. "You want like, security furniture? We got a safe?"
"Nah, guns mate. I heard you sell guns."
Every Companion froze.
"Guns?" Grass Wonder repeated slowly.
"Yeah, everyone's saying Sit Happens got weapons now. The catapult thing was brilliant advertising, by the way."
Lyfe's tactical assessment mode activated immediately. "We do not sell firearms. This is a furniture retail operation."
"But you DO sell protection?" Jonkr pressed.
"YES!" Grass Wonder said, desperately trying to course-correct. "Furniture protection! Wood polish, fabric guard, warranty plans—"
"Ohhhh, you're using CODE WORDS! Smart! Yeah, I'll take some 'fabric guard.'" He made exaggerated air quotes.
"No, actual fabric—"
ChairLordSupreme was scrolling through his spawn menu, completely oblivious. "Wait, do we have weapons in inventory? Let me check... oh shit, there's a weapons tab. How did I not notice this?"
"SIR, NO—" Grass Wonder started.
"Operator, do NOT—" Lyfe commanded.
Too late.
ChairLordSupreme spawned a pistol on the counter. "Is THIS what you're looking for?"
Jonkr's eyes lit up. "MATE! PERFECT! How much?"
"Uh... same price as a chair?"
"SOLD!"
The transaction completed before either Companion could stop it.
Jonkr left with his pistol, and Grass Wonder felt her soul leave her body.
"Sir," Lyfe said, with terrifying calm, "you have just engaged in illegal arms dealing."
"I WHAT?!"
"That Operator was seeking weapons. You provided weapons. This violates numerous realm protocols."
"But I thought he meant something else, so I showed him somewhere else!"
"HE MADE A GUN GESTURE!" Grass Wonder's professional composure cracked. "HOW DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!"
"I DON'T SPEAK HOBO!"
Outside, they could hear Jonkr showing off his new acquisition:
"YO, SIT HAPPENS SELLS GUNS NOW!"
"WHAT?!"
"YEAH BRO, GO GET STRAPPED!"
"FINALLY, AFFORDABLE FIREARMS!"
Grass Wonder watched in horror as more hobo players started approaching the store.
"Everyone," Lyfe said quietly, "we have created a significant tactical problem."
Within ten minutes, seven hobo players had purchased weapons.
ChairLordSupreme, laughing, kept spawning guns because he’s too lazy to stop, “Yeah, guns for everyone, amirite"
"STOP MAKING FIREARMS!" Grass Wonder was frantically trying to remove weapons from the counter, but players kept grabbing them.
"Oi, you got shotguns?"
"DO NOT GIVE THEM SHOTGUNS!" Lyfe ordered.
"I DO! AND MY MOUSE SLIPPED!"
A shotgun appeared. The hobo grabbed it.
"LEGENDARY! The furniture store is now an ARMORY!"
More players arrived. The word had spread. Soggy Newspaper, a Ukrainian player, burst through the door with three friends.
"I HEAR YOU SELL KALASHNIKOV?!"
"WE DON'T!" Grass Wonder shouted, her composure completely shattered.
"But you have guns, da?"
"Those were a MISTAKE!"
"Mistake gun still gun! We take!"
The store descended into chaos. Hobo players were grabbing weapons, ChairLordSupreme was panic-spawning more inventory trying to replace them with furniture, Lyfe was attempting to establish order through sheer force of will, and Grass Wonder was having a complete breakdown.
"THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FURNITURE!" she wailed.
"Horse Girl, I'M NEEDING SOME DOUGH!" ChairLordSupreme sounded mad. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO START AN ARMS TRADE!"
"HOW DO YOU ACCIDENTALLY START AN ARMS TRADE?!"
"I NEED MORE CASH DAMMIT!"
Outside, they could hear the consequences unfolding:
"OI, FUCK THE COPS! I GOT A GUN NOW!"
"HOBO UPRISING!"
"THE FURNITURE STORE ARMED US!"
"DOWN WITH THE OPPRESSORS!"
Gunfire erupted in the streets. Not the occasional cop-versus-criminal stuff from before—this was concentrated, organized chaos. The hobo players had formed a mob.
Lyfe moved to the window, assessing. "The situation has deteriorated significantly. Multiple armed hostiles engaging law enforcement. Casualties mounting."
"OH MY GOD, WE'RE WAR CRIMINALS!" Grass Wonder had her hands over her face.
"War criminals is a bit harsh, we’re just normal—" ChairLordSupreme started.
"WE ARMED A MILITIA!"
"They're not a militia, they're just hobos with guns—"
"THAT'S WHAT A MILITIA IS!"
A burnt-corpse hobo ran past the window, dual-wielding pistols, screaming "THE FURNITURE REVOLUTION HAS BEGUN!"
"See?" Grass Wonder pointed. "FURNITURE REVOLUTION!"
Another group of hobos had organized into something resembling a tactical formation. A player named R.E.T.A.R.D, was apparently their leader, barking orders in accented English:
"TRASH CAN MAFIA, MOVE TO POSITION!"
"We're the CARDBOARD CARTEL, blyat!"
"IS SAME THING! MOVE!"
The two groups, Trash Can Mafia and Cardboard Cartel, were now engaging in a turf war over the alley behind the furniture store. The same alley where the catapult still stood.
"They're fighting over our ALLEY!" Grass Wonder was beyond comprehension now.
Lyfe analyzed the situation "They view the furniture store as strategic territory. We've become a faction center."
"WE'RE NOT A FACTION! WE JUST SELL CHAIRS!"
"Sold," Lyfe corrected. "Past tense. Current operation is arms dealing."
ChairLordSupreme groaned. "Okay, okay, I'm closing the store! No more sales! Everyone out!"
But it was too late. The hobos had claimed Sit Happens as their headquarters.
AENGUS burst back in, now carrying an AK-47 he'd acquired from somewhere. "OI, THE BASTARDS ARE COMING! WE'RE MAKING A STAND!"
"YOU'RE NOT MAKING A STAND IN MY FURNITURE STORE FOR FUCKS SAKE!" ChairLordSupreme protested.
"IT'S OUR FURNITURE STORE NOW, MATE! PROPERTY OF THE PEOPLE!"
More hobos flooded in, taking defensive positions behind couches and tables. Someone was setting up the catapult as artillery. Another player was trying to figure out how to weaponize the watermelons.
Grass Wonder stood in the middle of her carefully organized dining section, watching it get converted into a war bunker, and felt something inside her break.
"I organized those chairs by style," she said numbly.
Lyfe put a hand on her shoulder. "We adapt. We survive."
"They're using my table displays as barricades."
"Tactical repurposing."
"I LABELED EVERYTHING!"
"Labels are irrelevant during armed conflict."
Police sirens wailed outside. Voice chat exploded with overlapping chaos:
"DEFEND THE FURNITURE STORE!"
“ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS!”
"FOR THE HOBO REVOLUTION!"
"COPS CAN'T STOP US NOW!"
"WHO GAVE THE HOBOS GUNS?!"
"THE FURNITURE STORE!"
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
ChairLordSupreme was trying to explain in global chat: "I AM TRYING TO SELL FURNITURES HERE YOU FUCKING STUPID FUCKS!"
"TOO LATE, CAPITALIST PIG! THE WORKERS ARE ARMED!"
"I'M NOT—YOU SHITHEADS AREN'T EVEN WORKERS!"
"WE WORK FOR THE REVOLUTION!"
The first wave of cops hit the store.
Gunfire shredded through the windows. Grass Wonder dove behind a couch—one of her carefully selected living room display pieces—as bullets tore through the upholstery.
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" she screamed.
"RETURN FIRE!" AENGUS commanded the hobo militia.
The furniture store became a war zone. Hobos were shooting from behind barricaded furniture. Cops were returning fire from the street. Someone launched a chair from the catapult, which somehow hit a cop car and flipped it.
"FURNITURE ARTILLERY IS EFFECTIVE!" Soggy Newspaper cheered.
Lyfe had taken position by the window, providing tactical updates: "Four hostiles on the left flank. Two advancing from the right. Aerial surveillance detected—"
"AERIAL?!" ChairLordSupreme yelped.
A police helicopter flew above the street.
"Oh you've GOT to be fucking kidding me," their Operator breathed.
The helicopter's loudspeaker boomed: "ATTENTION FURNITURE STORE! YOU ARE SURROUNDED! SURRENDER THE WEAPONS AND RELEASE THE HOBOS!"
"WE CAN'T RELEASE THEM!" Grass Wonder shouted uselessly. "THEY WON'T LEAVE!"
Jonkr was loading another chair into the catapult. "NEVER SURRENDER! THIS IS OUR STORE NOW!"
"IT'S NOT YOUR STORE!" ChairLordSupreme was having a complete meltdown. "I RENT THIS BUILDING! I HAVE A LEASE!"
"LEASES ARE TOOLS OF OPPRESSION!"
The battle intensified. More players were joining—some supporting the hobos, others joining the police, a few just griefing everyone indiscriminately. The furniture store was the epicenter of absolute chaos.
Grass Wonder, crouched behind a shredded couch, looked at Lyfe. "How did this happen?"
Lyfe, somehow still composed despite bullets passing overhead, replied: "Poor communication. Misunderstood terminology. Cascade failure of retail operations."
"That's not helpful!"
"Accurate assessment rarely is."
A grenade bounced into the store.
"GRENADE!" Multiple voices screamed.
The explosion took out the entire dining section. Chairs flew everywhere. Tables disintegrated. The grandfather clock toppled dramatically.
Grass Wonder watched her organizational work literally explode and felt tears forming.
"My displays," she whispered.
"Displays are replaceable," Lyfe said. "We just take longer. Move."
She pulled Grass Wonder toward the back room as another explosion rocked the building.
While the Furniture Revolution raged downtown, a very different scene was unfolding in the warehouse district.
Pyra hummed cheerfully as she watered the plants. The warehouse was humid, warm, filled with the earthy smell of growing things. Rows of healthy green plants stretched across the floor, their leaves broad and distinctive.
Her Operator, Ratpacket, had been very specific about the watering schedule and nutrient balance. Pyra appreciated clear instructions. Gardening was peaceful work, honest work, and she was happy to help cultivate what Ratpacket called his "special herbs for cooking."
"Looking good, Pyra!" Ratpacket's voice crackled through voice chat. He was outside handling the "business side" of their operation, whatever that meant.
"Thank you! The plants are very healthy! What dishes will we make with these?"
A pause. "Uh... lots of dishes. Super special dishes. Very... culinary."
"I'm excited to learn!" Pyra carefully adjusted the grow lights. "I've been reading about herb-based cuisine. Did you know that proper herb preparation can completely transform a meal's flavor profile?"
"Yeah, totally. That's exactly what we're doing. Transforming... flavors."
Another player entered the warehouse, "StonerChef420", one of Ratpacket's business partners. "Yo, this harvest is gonna be LEGENDARY."
"Hello!" Pyra waved cheerfully. "Are you also interested in culinary arts?"
StonerChef420 stared at her. "Is your Companion... does she know?"
"Know what?" Pyra tilted her head.
"Nah man, she doesn't know," Ratpacket said quickly. "And we're KEEPING it that way. She thinks we're growing cooking herbs."
"Bro, that's fucking hilarious."
"I know, right? She's so innocent, it's actually adorable."
Pyra beamed, not understanding the exchange but happy to be appreciated. "I try my best! Proper plant care requires dedication and attention to detail!"
"You're doing great, Pyra," Ratpacket assured her. "Keep up the good work with the... cooking herbs."
"I will!"
Outside the warehouse, in the distant downtown area, explosions echoed. Gunfire rattled. Sirens wailed.
Pyra looked up. "What's that noise?"
"Oh, just some DarkRP drama," Ratpacket said casually. "Don't worry about it. Keep tending the plants."
"Okay!" Pyra returned to her work, completely unaware that she was cultivating a substantial marijuana operation while downtown descended into furniture-related gang warfare.
Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
Back at Sit Happens, the situation had devolved from a retail disaster into a full-scale siege.
Grass Wonder and Lyfe Bestla were huddled behind the overturned "Manager's Desk" (a mahogany piece Grass Wonder had picked out specifically for its lumbar support). Bullets chipped away at the wood above their heads.
"Operator," Lyfe said into the comms, her voice calm despite the deafening noise. "Hostiles have breached the showroom. We are losing territory. Requesting immediate extraction or reinforcements."
"REINFORCEMENTS?!" ChairLordSupreme laughed, crouching in the corner while holding a clipboard. "NAH, LET THEM COME! THIS IS CONTENT!"
Outside, a player-driven SWAT van, which looked suspiciously like a re-textured ice cream truck, slammed through the front window, crushing three display toilets.
"FBI OPEN UP, CUNTS!" the driver screamed.
"NO! MY PORCELAIN!" Grass Wonder wailed.
Suddenly, the shooting stopped. Or rather, the bullets stopped doing damage. Players were firing, but nothing was happening.
Two figures floated down from the sky, glowing with a soft, noclip aura. Their usernames were simple, ominous: [Owner] xX_God_Slayer_Xx and [Admin] Cheese_Supreme.
"Oh thank goodness!" Grass Wonder peeked over the desk. "The authorities have arrived to restore order!"
The two admins hovered in mid-air above the wreckage of the furniture store.
"Yo," xX_God_Slayer_Xx typed in chat.
"YO ADMIN!" AENGUS screamed, pointing his AK-47 at the sky. "THESE FUCKERS SOLD US GUNS THEN TRIED TO KICK US OUT! THIS IS HOBO LAND NOW!"
"YO ADMINS!" The police chief shouted. "BAN THESE RDMING FUCKS! THEY BROKE NLR LIKE TWELVE TIMES!"
Grass Wonder straightened her blouse, preparing to give a polite, detailed account of the misunderstanding. "Excuse me, noble overseers! If I may explain, it was a simple linguistic error regarding—"
"Lmao," Cheese_Supreme typed.
"What?" Grass Wonder blinked.
"50k on the hobos," xX_God_Slayer_Xx said over voice chat. He sounded like he was eating chips. Loudly.
"Bet," replied Cheese_Supreme. "Cops have a tank though. 70k on cops."
Grass Wonder froze. "Are... are they gambling on our survival?"
ChairLordSupreme burst out laughing.
"YOOOO! ADMINS ARE TAKING BETS! THAT'S ACTUALLY HILARIOUS!"
"Sir?" Grass Wonder looked at him, horrified. "They are wagering on the destruction of your store!"
"I KNOW! IT'S BASED AS FUCK!" ChairLordSupreme typed rapidly in global chat: PUT ME DOWN FOR 100K ON THE HOBOS. MY MONEY IS ON THE TRASH PEOPLE.
"You are betting against... yourself?" Lyfe asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's a hedge, Sarge Jr.! If I lose the store, I win the bet! BUSINESS 101!"
"That’s not how economics works!" Lyfe muttered.
With a wave of his hand, xX_God_Slayer_Xx disabled the god mode.
"FIGHT!" the Admin shouted. "MAKE IT INTERESTING OR I BAN EVERYONE!"
"LETS GOOOO!" ChairLordSupreme cheered.
The battle recommenced with renewed stupidity.
The hobos, emboldened by the Admin's sponsorship, launched their counter-offensive. AENGUS jumped onto the catapult.
"LOAD ME UP, BOYS! FOR THE PRIZE MONEY!"
"Don't do it!" Grass Wonder pleaded. "That device is not rated for human transport!"
"WITNESS ME, YOU SHITSTAINS!"
Another hobo hit the release lever.
THWUMP.
AENGUS sailed through the air, screaming racial slurs that were so creative they were almost impressive, before crashing directly into the windshield of the police SWAT van.
CRUNCH.
"HOLY SHIT!" ChairLordSupreme was laughing so hard his character model was shaking. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! HUMAN MISSILE! CLIP IT! SOMEONE CLIP IT!"
"The projectile... liquified upon impact," Lyfe noted dryly. "Effective kinetic energy transfer."
Outside, the police were regrouping. Among them stood a man in a standard-issue blue police uniform, wearing a Kevlar vest. He looked tired, holding his helmet under his arm, and wishing he was somewhere else.
It was Alex Murphy, aka RoboCop.
He stood next to his Operator, Pisswater, who was currently jumping up and down screaming, "PUSH THE FRONT! KILL THE FURRY SALESWOMAN!"
"I AM NOT A FURRY!" Grass Wonder shouted from the window. "THESE ARE NATURAL EARS!"
"EAT LEAD, YIFFERS!" Psswater opened fire.
Murphy sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sir, using lethal force against a store for a noise complaint is... excessive."
"THEY HAVE GUNS, ALEX! SHOOT THEM!"
"They have chairs," Murphy corrected, squinting at the catapult. "And... watermelons. I don’t think our training does cover tactical fruit assault."
"JUST SHOOT THEM, YOU USELESS NPC!"
Murphy processed this insult with the weary resignation of a man who had died once already. "Great, just plain old, great. Chair riot, corpses shooting at people and now this?!"
He raised his pistol and methodically shot out the storefront's neon sign.
He aimed his submachine gun and obliterated a row of lamps.
“Take this, you sons of bitches” Alex declared.
Inside, Grass Wonder ducked as glass showered her. "Why does the policeman hate our lamps?!"
"He is compromised," Lyfe said, checking her own ammo (she had none). "His Operator is issuing unlawful orders. He is improvising."
Suddenly, the wall behind them exploded..
A hobo had attempted to carry seventeen bathtubs at once. Which cause him to trip over, igniting the propane tank room, and blow up the wall.
"Grenade!" Lyfe shouted, grabbing Grass Wonder and pulling her back.
Through the gaping hole where the wall used to be, the hobos cheered.
"WE HAVE AN ESCAPE ROUTE!"
There are explosions everywhere after the hobos tripped. Admins floating in the sky throwing popcorn emotes. Hobos launching themselves into orbit. A tank trying to parallel park inside the lobby.
It was magnificent. It was insane.
And then, abruptly, ChairLordSupreme stopped moving.
His character stood still amidst the gunfire.
"Operator?" Lyfe asked, crouching beside him. "Are you injured? Have you disconnected?"
"Nah," ChairLordSupreme said. His voice sounded different. Deflated.
"Man. This is getting kinda boring."
Grass Wonder peeked over the desk. "Boring? Sir, there is a man throwing literal feces at our window. We are under siege!"
"Yeah, but it's just the same loop, you know? Shoot, die, respawn, scream slurs. The joke's kinda stale."
He looked around the destroyed store. He looked at the Admins betting in the sky. He looked at the hobo stuck in the ceiling fan.
"Yeah. I'm over it."
"Over it?" Grass Wonder blinked. "But the revolution... the furniture empire..."
"Meh. I wanna play Lethal. I saw a lobby called 'FURRY HUNTING 18+ MIC ONLY'. Seems chill."
"Operator," Lyfe said urgently. "We are currently in active combat. Withdrawal is inadvisable without cover."
"Don't care. Alt-F4 time."
"Sir, wait! The inventory!" Grass Wonder cried out.
"Bye bye, chairs."
The world didn't explode. It didn't crash.
It just... stopped.
ChairLordSupreme initiated the transfer.
The furniture store, the screaming hobos, the useless admins, the burning police car—it all stretched into infinite pixels, then vanished.
For a split second, they were in the Steam Lobby.
It was a flash of white, sterile light. Grass Wonder saw a glimpse of the cafeteria. She saw a genericCitizen trying to operate a vending machine. She saw 2B walking past with a coffee, ignoring a medieval Crusader who was having a stress attack in the corner.
It was peaceful. It was safe.
"Oh, look!" she started to say. "Maybe we can rest—"
SLAM.
The sound of metal hitting metal rang out before Grass Wonder even opened her eyes.
"OW! YOU FUCKING RETARD!"
"STOP BLOCKING THE DOOR THEN!"
"I'M NOT BLOCKING IT, YOUR MOM IS BLOCKING IT!"
Grass Wonder blinked. The smell of rust and recycled air hit her.
She was in a small, cramped room with metal grating for floors. But she wasn't alone.
She looked down. Her blouse was gone. She was wearing a thick, bulky, bright orange hazmat suit.
She looked at Lyfe. The stoic soldier was also in an orange suit, checking a scanner on her wrist with visible annoyance.
And then she looked at the source of the noise.
ChairLordSupreme was currently hitting another Operator with a shovel. Repeatedly.
The other player, Dingbat, was crouching and frantically ringing a bicycle bell he was holding.
DING DING DING DING DING.
"STOP RINGING THE BELL!" ChairLordSupreme screamed, swinging the shovel. CLANG.
"I CAN'T! MY G KEY IS STUCK! DING DING DING!"
"Status report," Lyfe said, her voice deadpan inside her helmet.
"We have been redeployed," she answered herself. "New assignment: 'Lethal Company'. Current objective: Waste recovery. Current tactical situation: Our Operator is assaulting a teammate due to a hardware malfunction."
Grass Wonder stepped forward, her heavy boots clanking. "Sir? Please stop hitting the other employee!"
ChairLordSupreme stopped mid-swing. "Oh, hey Horse Girl! You made it! Look, we got a full squad! This is Dingbat. He's useless."
"FUCK YOU!" Dingbat yelled, finally stopping the bell. "I'm a great asset! I found a stop sign!"
He held up a literal traffic stop sign.
"That is... very impressive," Grass Wonder lied politely.
"RIGHT?!"
The ship's lever was pulled. The door hissed open.
A blizzard howled outside. They had landed on Titan. The massive concrete facility loomed in the dark, terrifying and silent.
"Okay boys," ChairLordSupreme said, doing a little dance emote. "Quota is 130. We're going in deep. If you see a turret, hug it."
"Hug it?" Grass Wonder asked, horrified. "Sir, turrets are usually automated defense systems designed to—"
"NAH, IT'S A HUG BOT! TRUST ME!"
"HE'S LYING!" Dingbat screamed, running out into the snow. "LAST TIME HE SAID THAT I LOST MY LEGS!"
He sprinted toward the facility entrance, jumping and spamming the "point" emote.
"LEEROY JENKINS!"
ChairLordSupreme laughed. "What an idiot. Wait for me!"
He ran after him, shovel raised high.
Lyfe Bestla walked to the edge of the ramp. She looked at the desolate, frozen hellscape. She looked at the two orange figures bunny-hopping through the snow, screaming obscenities at each other.
She looked back at Grass Wonder.
"The location has changed," Lyfe noted. "The intelligence level has not."
"At least there are no hobos?" Grass Wonder offered weakly.
From the darkness, a distinct, chittering voice echoed.
"YIPPEE!"
"Did..." Grass Wonder adjusted her cowl. "Did that bug just say 'Yippee'?"
"IGNORE THE BUG!" ChairLordSupreme screamed from the distance. "GET THE SCRAP! WE NEED MONEY FOR THE CASINO!"
Lyfe sighed. She grabbed a flashlight.
"Mission parameters updated: Babysitting in a hazardous environment."
She jumped into the snow.
Grass Wonder stood in the ship for one last second. She patted her orange suit.
"Well," she whispered, picking up a walkie-talkie. "I suppose scrap is easier to organize than furniture."
She keyed the mic. "Wait for me! I know how to carry heavy objects!"
She ran into the dark, leaving the safety of the ship behind.