Author's Note: This doubles as a sequel to my other fic "Going Turbo" which is my version of a Turbo origin story. You don't HAVE to read it first, but it will help understand the character better in this story plus a few OC's that premiered there.


That Little Game Called Life

Chapter One

The last thing he could remember was being burned alive in a geyser of molten cola-lava. Every bit of his code had screamed in pure agony as his life passed before his eyes. The memories alone were as painful as the scorching burns he was subjected to. All his years of hard work, years of trying to build a new life for himself, a new life that would help him forget about the one he lost. It was all gone, his second chance was gone.

Turbo opened his eyes drowsily. He was staring up at the ceiling of some room that he did not recognize. A faint eerie glow from the small light fixture above him flickered every so often. Upon further inspection, he realized he was laying on something soft. A bed? How did a bed end up in the middle of a volcano? In fact, where did this room materialize from?

He blinked and the fog in his mind gradually drifted away. He turned his head to look sideways but his neck was so stiff that it pained him to do so. How long had he been lying there? With great effort and difficulty, he straightened himself in the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. He glanced around at his sterile environment. A cold pale blue room greeted him with nothing but the bed he was on, a small side table, an empty chair, a mirror on the far wall and then finally the door. It was one of those big metal doors that looked like Bowser himself would have trouble opening.

Was he in some form of afterlife? Did arcade game characters even go anywhere when they died? Turbo didn't think so. He also didn't think he was dreaming because he personally never had a dream that caused him neck pain or stiff muscles.

He slowly got off the bed, grimacing as he did so. His legs buckled underneath him from not having used them in a while and it took some time for him to get his balance back. Straightening himself up, he started in the direction of the door. He took a second to glance in the mirror he had noticed earlier. He was dressed in his old racing uniform, the white one with red trim and a white helmet with a big red "T" on the front of it. He hadn't seen his original form in so long that he was initially startled. He had gotten accustomed to the King Candy form that he had created for himself when he hacked into Sugar Rush.

Ugh, he didn't even want to think about that place. Little brats and their dessert-themed happy-cheery world! He hated kids and he remembered the disgust he felt at the idea of having to share his new life with a whole lot of them. That was why, as King Candy, he refused to interact with them outside of the races when he had no choice.

I see you are awake.

The sudden booming voice from an invisible source made the racer let out a small shriek and slip on the tile floor, landing on his back. He scrambled wildly to his feet, trying to find where the voice had come from. No one was in the room with him. He cursed himself for letting something manage to scare him. In a place like this, he needed to keep his guard up.

I am sorry to have frightened you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am General Hologram from Hero's Duty. I believe you are the one they call Turbo. Is this correct?

"Turbo". No one had called him by that name in years. It felt odd and strangely disorienting, like he had stepped into a time portal to the past.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" the racer asked grouchily, still looking around the room trying to find a speaker of some sort. He didn't like the idea that someone could see him and not the other way around. "Where am I? How come I'm not dead?"

You are alive because I allowed you to be. The volcano only destroyed the Cy-Bug part of you. You had a very strong virus within your code before the Cy-Bug fed on you. That virus protected your original code from getting obliterated. I was able to piece that part of you back together and bring you here to Hero's Duty to recuperate. You have been resting for several weeks now.

Turbo looked down at his grayish hands and flexed the fingers slowly. So the virus that had destroyed his first life had saved him from dying in his second life. It was an intriguing twist. He had never considered the virus a blessing in disguise before.

The next time you die will be the last. You are as vulnerable as you were when you were first created. I advise you to remember that.

A chill ran down Turbo's spine. Was this General Hologram warning him? The monotonous voice devoid of any emotion unnerved him and that feeling only served to piss him off. It was like talking to a computer. He remembered the holographic Surge Protector in Game Central Station. Even that guy had more personality than this Voice.

"Why did you save me?" he had to ask. He wished he knew what direction to look in when he spoke. He felt like an idiot turning in circles trying to pinpoint the Voice's origin. "Most people would want me to have stayed dead."

To study you.

The blunt answer stunned him. Study him? Like some kind of experiment? Turbo darted his eyes around the room. It dawned on him that this must be some sort of observation room. But...observed for what? Hadn't he just been lying there sleeping this whole time?

I shall explain further. Come, walk with me.

The large metal door opened with a "swooshing" sound. A long metallic corridor stretched out beyond it. Turbo understood that he was meant to walk down it. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea too much but he didn't dare argue with something he couldn't even see.

"Don't you have to have legs to walk?" he quipped as he moved forward.

Affirmative.

Apparently the Invisible General didn't understand sarcasm. It only furthered Turbo's suspicions that he was talking to a form of advanced artificial intelligence rather than an actual game character, like he was...and the racer didn't trust him. Correction, it.

As he walked out the door, he heard it "swoosh" behind him which caused him to turn around. He noticed a dusty sign on the door that said "Dr. Brad Scott-Private Quarters". So it wasn't an observation room like he had assumed. Curiosity got the best of him.

"Who's Brad?" he asked.

The hallway was colder than the room had been and he found himself shivering. He passed by a door that was to his left but the Voice didn't tell him to open it so he just kept on going forward.

He is a deceased member of our team. He was never part of the actual game. You are living in a physical recreation of his chambers. No one is allowed back here so no one knows you are here. If you wish to stay alive, I will suggest you avoid attempting an escape. My soldiers do not take kindly to strangers who breech the perimeter.

No one was allowed back here, huh? The racer briefly wondered what the backstory was on good ol' Brad Scott but he chose to think on that another day, if it was even important.

"Hey, buddy, you never said how exactly were you able to save me." The hallway seemed to get longer and longer, to his dismay. "I mean, it's not like you were present during my demise."

I was hoping you would ask. You see, the programmers gave me the ability to feel when a Cy-Bug ingests something. Whatever they eat, they become. When you were eaten, I was able to see your code in my own artificial mind. Your memories became available to me at that time and I was able to see how you took control of the game Sugar Rush. Rather impressive even by military standards.

"So impressive that I couldn't stop a glitch and another game-jumper from ruining it all," Turbo mused aloud.

If Wreck-It Ralph had never come along, he would still be riding high in all his kingly glory. That little glitch was probably astonished to find that she was the princess. Ah, but that life was over now. This was his third chance. How many could say they were lucky enough to get not one more chance at life, but two?

Precisely my thought as well. Now we are getting to exactly why I brought you here. I need you to help me keep what happened to Sugar Rush from happening to Hero's Duty. I need to make sure that no one tries to invade and take Hero's Duty for their own. I must protect myself and my soldiers. You are the only one I know of that can make this happen.

Turbo had reached the end of the hallway at this point. A camoflauged door stood in his way and it opened with a "swoosh" like the other had done when he approached it. He had to admit he was a bit surprised at what he saw next. It was a locking mechanism for a Code Room, similar to the others he had seen and used in his time.

"You want me to reprogram the game?"

Affirmative. I do not have a physical body, Turbo. I am but a mere hologram. I can only show myself in limited areas. I have no way of entering the room myself or even tampering with the codes. That requires a physical form. You are the only one who can do this for me.

The racer rubbed his chin as he pondered this. The general was a lot smarter than he had initially thought. He...it...had been able to formulate a seemingly iron-clad plan. Still, something about this Hologram guy came across as shady to him.

"Let me get this straight. You access my memories and learn all my dirty secrets." He began to count off points with his fingers. "You regenerate me somehow and bring me here under top secret observation. You tell me what you plan to do with your own game. You do realize that I can easily take control of this place myself, correct?"

I believe once you allow me to explain, you will do as I ask. I have a plan to create the ideal world. The way things are now, others are able to cross portals into others' games and do as they want. You know this more than anyone. I cannot allow someone to enter here and cause us to become "unplugged" as they say. It is a matter of survival.

My belief is that if others are confined to their own worlds, they will obviously be unable to cause destruction for another world. I cannot do this myself, however. As I explained, I have no physical body. I need my troops to help me, but they have become corrupted with the outside lands and its inhabitants. One of my finest soldiers has even married an outsider. This cannot be tolerated. That is why I need their memories erased. I do not think I need to spell out the rest.

Turbo understood exactly what Hologram was saying: Help carry out this plan of tyrranical rule over the entire arcade. It was a impressive plan, he admitted to himself. For a moment he felt honored to be the one allowed to be part of it. But still...

"I'll get straight to the point," he began, folding his hands behind his back. It was a habit he had picked up sometime during his kingly days. "What's in it for me?"

I will allow you to be my direct subordinate. Second in command, if you will. You may pick any game you like to control as your very own domain, to do with as you wish. You may also make your own rules to carry out, as long as I approve them of course.

I had control of a game once and I did it solo, the racer thought a little bitterly. Just who do you think you're talking to?

"What's to stop me from sneaking in here during your gameplay hours? I know better than to think that you trust me completely."

You would be correct. I do not trust you. That is why every time I allow you into my Code Room, I will change the combination. You will not be able to go in without my allowing you to do so.

The General seemed to have all the bases covered. Turbo began to wonder if he should be impressed with this level of planning or intimidated. If the Voice had this much worked out, what else did he have up his proverbial sleeve?

"What if I refuse this gracious offer?"

I will sound an alarm and have an officer kill you.

There was the unnerving bluntness again.

I cannot allow you to leave and spread word of my plan. It will be a tragic loss, however, as there is no one available with your level of hacking skills. You understand. I will also have them kill you if I feel that you are trying to change the codes to your own liking.

Yeah, he understood all right. Join or die. If he wanted to live, he would have no choice to go along with this. As tempting as the offer was, Turbo was a little annoyed that someone was forcing his hand in the matter. He had strived for independence and it was quickly becoming apparent that he was going to be giving that up for a while.

"Okay, I was just wondering what you would say," he told the General in a half-hearted lie. "It would be my pleasure to help you out."

I knew you would accept.

Did you? Turbo asked in his mind. You don't know what I'm going to do. You may be able to think outside the box and cover the angles of a long-term situation, but you can't know what I'm going to do in the next five minutes. I could go in that Code Room and have this place set to blow in three-two-one.

Not that he would do something so drastic. He believed the General's threat of sounding an alarm to have him get killed. Turbo had worked too hard and too long at keeping himself alive to throw it all away for a silly risk like that. The first ten years of his life after TurboTime's unplugging had been spent hiding out in that idiotic Anteater game, living off the ants and worms that resided there and tampering with enough code to keep that stupid Anteater from spilling the beans about his presence. That was a miserable ten years and it would piss him off greatly to know it was all for naught.

A thought came to him as he reflected on those days.

"Hey, one more question. You said that you wanted everyone to stay within the realm of their own games, right? To keep them from jumping over into yours?"

That is correct.

"What about all those cats that don't have a home game anymore? The ones out living wherever they can find a spot to survive? What'll happen to them?"

They will be arrested and thrown into the Brig. They will then await a trial and, upon seeing that they have no suitable purposes, will be executed by my team. They are only rogues after all. Any one of them could be the wild card that could potentially destroy me.

The answer was a shocking one. Kill all the homeless ones? Turbo remembered back almost 25 years ago when he saw Q*bert and his friends sitting alone in the Game Central Station, relying on the kindness of others for survival. He had pitied them and had hated the idea that he could become the same way one day, believing death a better fate. Rosie had told him not to talk that way-

NO, do NOT think about her.

The idea that this General wanted to execute them as if they were meaningless rather angered him. After all, he himself had been a homeless character, depending on the surroundings of a game not his own for survival. Hell, he was still homeless now that he thought about it.

The racer clenched his fists at his sides, trying hard to bite his tongue. He then bid the General a good night and headed back to bed. He needed a little more rest before he got started on his new job.