A/N: For all of my music-lovers, I have a challenge for you. The title of this fanfic is the name of a song from one of my favorite musicals. Anyone know what it is?

Disclaimer: I don't own Wreck-it Ralph. . . what else is there left to say?

Sergeant Calhoun was asleep when she heard the doorbell ring. It had made her jolt upward and look over at the alarm clock to make sure that she hadn't overslept or anything of that nature. The Sergeant saw that the alarm read 3:26 A.M. She groaned and thought, I'll feed whoever's out there to the cy-bugs.

The doorbell rang twice more.

She looked over at her husband, who was curled up in a ball with the covers all around him, his nose twitching in the slightest bit. She grabbed on of her pillows and hit him on the head with it. Then, she fell back onto her own pillows, letting herself sink into them so far, she could barely breath.

Fix-it Felix sat up and drowsily mumbled, "Wha-What is it? Is the baby coming?"

Calhoun was about to sit up and answer him, when the doorbell rang again. Felix sighed, "Oh, someone's at the door."

Calhoun sat up and she sighed, her voice filled with exhaustion, "I know. Go answer it." He looked over at her and smiled. She sighed, "Please?"

Felix began walking towards the door, but his vision was still fuzzy, so he ran right into the wall and knocked down plate, hanging on the wall for decoration. The plate missed his head by inches and nearly shattered. It definitely woke him up when he heard the impact so close to him. Calhoun got out of bed, the nipping cold engulfing her whole body, and chuckled at her husband, who could barely get out of bed without hurting himself. She knelt down beside her husband and gave him a kiss on the forehead, "Why don't I get it?"

He smiled, "If you say so, ma'am."

Calhoun left her husband to get back in bed himself, hoping he wouldn't end up falling out a window. as she felt the cold bite at her feet like mad cy-bugs. The cold stabbed at her feet like nails.

The doorbell rang again, as the ringer became more restless. Calhoun groaned, "Alright, alright. Keep your pants on."

She opened the door, expecting to see Vanellope announcing, "Here's your three A.M. wake-up call, Miss! Courtesy of the President of Sugar Rush!" Calhoun had been ready to strangle her when she had done that the first time.

But, instead of the small, squeaky-voiced child, Calhoun was greeted by a game character that she had no memory of whatsoever. The man looked like he was one of the concierge from that old game, Bell Hop!, a game that was similar to Tappers, but took place in a hotel. Litwak had bought it awhile back, but it hadn't done very well, so he got rid of it. Other than that, the character was just a simple man. He wore a plain, white shirt, that was covered in several wrinkles. His hair was messy and there was an unsharpened pencil behind his large ear. He was holding a small notebook and had a Game Central newspaper pass around his neck and the man only went up to Calhoun's waist. He was a reporter.

Ever since Litwak's had opened, there was always at least one game that didn't turn a profit. Sometimes it took a few weeks. Sometimes they stayed for a year. Sometimes it came out of nowhere, but eventually, the games that didn't have a lot of buzz, were unplugged. With over thirty years of games being unplugged, the gameless characters began popping up like toadstools. So, a few years before Sugar Rush had been brought in, a few game characters had the idea that the gameless characters should have something to do. Some started small businesses in abandoned kiosks that littered Game Central. Others joined in as non-playable characters other games, like they had done in Fix-it Felix Jr. And then, the others made a newspaper that would report interesting activity, all for the enjoyment of the public. Then, they left the copies they made in Game Central, so characters could pick up something interesting to read on their way to work, or on their way home.

The man cleared his throat and straightened up the loose-hanging necktie that was around his neck, "Hello, Miss Calhoun. I'm from the Game Central Gazette and I was wondering if I could get an interview with you."

Calhoun tried to shut the door on him, but the reporter stuck his foot between it in the wall. She turned around to face the man. She could barely believe that he would even attempt to stand up to her. Even her toughest soldiers wouldn't do that, and compared to them, this guy was a toothpick. She crossed her arms, "Yes?"

The reporter took a large step closer to Calhoun, "Miss, I did not come here at 3 A.M. to get a door slammed on me. Now, even though you probably broke my foot and as I continue speaking, I fear you will just pulverize me more," The reporter stepped back a little, "I am still a reporter. My job tonight was to get an interview with the first Sergeant, nay, the first character, in this arcade to ever to hold a code between two different consoles. And I don't care if it kills me, I will get one."

Calhoun slumped down against the ottoman, "Why now? Why not after hours, when the arcade is closing?"

The reporter chuckled, "Well, I work the night shift and the paper prints before the arcade opens, so. . ." The man looked up at the Sergeant, who was obviously not amused. He jumped down on his knees, "Please! Just one hour of your time! If I don't get this interview, they'll fire me! And I can't get the boot! I can't get the bo-oo-oot!"

"Get up! For Mod's sake!" Calhoun groaned as she kicked softly at the man. The reporter brushed off his clothes and straightened out his hair a little. Calhoun sighed and rolled her eyes, "Half an hour. Only a few questions. And then, you're out of here!"

The reporter nodded and gave her a toothy grin, "Excellent." He went to sit down in one of the chairs in the sitting room. Calhoun followed, "By the way, my name is Dave Shutté. That's Shoe to the Tay. Not Shutty. Not Shut. Shutté."

Calhoun rolled eyes, "I'll shoe your tay!"

Shutté sat down, opened up his notebook, clicked his pen open and cleared his throat, "Okay. Let's begin."

A/N: Okay! Big surprise for all of my readers. You get to decide the questions the Shutté is asking! What do you want to know about the baby? I WILL REVEAL THE BABY'S GENDER! DUN DUN DUH! I might include some questions of my own, but it will mostly be made up of the questions YOU ask. You may call it lazy writing, I call it creative! Ask away!