"We're designed to be disposable."

"Come again?"

Felix had found Calhoun on the roof of the Niceland building, sitting precariously on the edge with her long legs dangling over the side. He'd awoken during the night to find her missing from their townhouse, and happen to spot her lengthy form through the window.

Calhoun heaved a sigh, gesturing to the view screen. "The gamers think we're just characters on a video screen. They don't know we have lives or relationships; happiness or pain. Our lives can easily be taken from us if the powers-that-be consider us 'out of order' or "outdated'." She looked at him with eyes that burned him to the core. "We're designed to be disposable."

Time slowed to a standstill as he tried to comprehend what happened. Middle of the night. A cy-bug attack. An explosion. Confusion. Chaos.

Felix felt a thick, warm liquid coating his hands, and raised them to his line of sight. "There's blood on my hands" he murmured through the haze in his mind. "Why is there blood on my hands?"

A blurred image passed his appendages caught his attention, and Felix lower his hands to find the mangled body of his wife tossed to the ground like a ragdoll.

"Please don't make me socialize."

"But Tamora, they expect us to be there!"

"You? Yes. Me? They'll probably break out the champagne just to celebrate my absent."

"You make it sound like the Nicelanders don't like you."

"They don't!"

It wasn't far from the truth. The Nicelanders were downright intimidated by the space marine sergeant. Her lengthy stature, strong build, and menacing scowl were only a few reasons that contributed to Tamora's conclusion. But it wasn't like she'd ever intentionally scared them. Tamora figured being normal herself was enough to make them afraid.

"It took those skittish little Easter eggs 30 years to remotely be okay with Wreck-It. I can imagine how long it will take for me."

Tamora crossed her arms, a slight pout puckering her lips. She didn't care if the Nicelanders liked her, but she did care how their feelings toward her would affect Felix. Him and Gene had already had a discussion over who Felix was to marry. There were whispers among the citizens that the "war lady" was too violent for their hero. Felix tried his best to play down the negativity and act like it wasn't happening, but Tamora knew better. She could see the small bouts of disappointment cross the handyman's face.

Sometimes Tamora thought Felix was far too nice for his own good.

A heavy sigh escaped the handyman, the load of situation finally coming to the surface. He pulled up a chair and climbed on to be eye level with his future bride. "I'm sorry things haven't been smooth with the Nicelanders," Felix began, gently taking Tamora's hands in his, "and I'm sorry I haven't been listening to you like I should. They're a very peculiar folk and I think I've babied them for so long, I automatically try to give them the benefit of the doubt."

He lowered his head, ashamed. "I let them treat Ralph the way they did all those years and I feel awful for it." He raised his head to meet her gaze. "But I'm not letting them do that to my fiancée."

Felix hopped off the chair, grinning like a naughty child. "Grab your cruiser, Tammy. We're going game jumping instead."

Tamora gazed over her shoulder in the long mirror hanging behind the door. She cocked her back-end up slightly, admiring the reflection. A silky pair of black panties adorned her derriere, hugging every curve perfectly; the soft material felt as smooth as butter on her skin. She cupped her buttocks, stroking her palms along the fabric and sighing in pleasure.

"I've been buying the wrong underwear."

"You lost your wedding ring?"

"I didn't lose it!" Felix exclaimed at Ralph, his hands flying upfrantically. He caught himself, looking sheepish for his outburst. "I just misplaced it." He clamped his hands together, pleadingly. "Please, Ralph, will you help me find it? Tammy holds our wedding rings in high regard. I do too, of course! But Tammy will be so upset if she knows I lo-…misplaced my ring."

"Calm down, buddy." Ralph patted his friend's back, supportively. "It coulda gone too far since we haven't left the game all day. We'll find your wedding ring."

"You mean this ring?" said a voice that sent chills up Felix's spine.

The It-boys turned around slowly to find Tamora standing there, one hand planted on her hip and the other holding up a small golden circle between her fingers.

"Tamora!" Felix squeaked out. He scampered up to his wife. "I didn't lose my ring, I can promise you that."

"Oh, I know you didn't lose it." Tamora handed the ring back to Felix, who accepted it as if it were the most precious gift bestowed by a queen. He removed his glove, replacing the golden band to its rightful place. "You left it."

Felix cocked his head. "Come again, ma'am?"

Tamora shook her head, smirking. "You left it on your nightstand when you took a shower this morning."

"Oh…" A red hue crept onto Felix's cheek.

Ralph nudged Felix, laughing good-heartedly at the situation. "Look at that. You didn't lose it or misplace it after all."

"Excuse me, ma'am," a polite voice caught her attention and Sergeant Calhoun looked over her shoulder, but no one was there. Calhoun's gaze lowered to find a civilian under half her size standing behind her. From his boyish face and short stature, she assumed he was a youth.

Calhoun turned to face him. "State your business, civilian."

"I believe you dropped this," he replied. Something dangled from his hand, which was covered by work gloves. Calhoun took in a good look at him, noticing his get-up was akin to some sort of handyman or construction worker's wear. A tool belt girded his waist with a single tool hanging from it – a golden hammer. The closer she examined him, the more she realized he wasn't a youth at all.

Hanging in his hand was her dog tags, the two metal pieces clanking together as he moved. "Looks like the chain broke," the handyman continued, showing her the break. He flashed a bright smile, presenting the peculiar golden hammer from his tool belt. "I can fix it!"

He gently tapped the chain with the hammerhead; an old-fashioned jingle dinged. He held up the dog tags to give back to her. "See? All fixed."

Calhoun relaxed her stiff posture, reaching out to accept the dog tags. Her game had only been plugged in for a week, and this venture was the first time she'd left the confines of Hero's Duty – let alone spoken with anyone outside of her game. This curious little man with his peculiar hammer was the complete opposite of anything she'd ever encountered before. It piqued her interest to know more about the strange things of this place her and her soldiers now called home. "What's your name?"

"Oh," the handyman blushed slightly before tipping his hat to her, "My name is Fix-It Felix Jr., ma'am, from the game Fix-It Felix Jr." The corner of Calhoun's mouth curved up; even the handyman's name fit his old-fashioned persona. "May I ask the lady's name?"

Calhoun offered her hand to shake, intrigued by his gentlemanly nature. "Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun of Hero's Duty."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Calhoun," the handyman replied, reaching up to accept her hand – his shake surprisingly firm but gentle. "You're new around here, aren't you?"

"Plugged in a week ago," she peered around the station, taking in the mass of unique characters surrounding them. "This is my first venture into the station."

"Well, if you need a guide," the handyman tipped his hat again, "I'd be happy to show you around."

Calhoun mulled over his offer. It would be daft to turn down an offer from a citizen who knew the area well, and his ridiculously welcoming smile was drawing her in. "Lead the way, Fix-It."