It was better than he deserved, he supposed…but that still didn't make it any less boring.
Turbo sat with his back against the cool stone of the dungeon. Currently, he was attempting to flick playing cards into his helmet propped against the wall opposite him. He was getting decent at it, but a shower of red and black still littered the floor.
Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.
"Ooh!" Turbo shouted, leaning forward. "Got one."
Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.
He'd long since stopped calling it a "fungeon." He discovered quickly that it was no fun at all.
When Turbo saw the door to his cell swinging open, he thought he was hallucinating. But when Wynchel and Duncan, the two donut guards, came bumbling in, he began to suspect otherwise.
"On your feet, prisoner," Wynchel said, brandishing his police baton.
"And face the wall," Duncan added, he, too, ready to bash Turbo in the head with his baton if need be.
Turbo remained where he was seated. He placed the remainder of his deck of cards beside him. "What, am I being let out early on good behavior?" He smiled sweetly.
Wynchel and Duncan exchanged "get a load o' this guy" looks and snickered.
"In your dreams, maybe," Duncan said. "Now do like we ask, or you ain't gonna get to see your visitor."
That caught Turbo's attention. Still, though, he wasn't too hopeful. He figured this was all just a practical joke.
"Okay, guys, ya got me there for a second," Turbo snickered. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a rousing game of card-in-the-helmet to continue."
Wynchel and Duncan started walking towards him, slapping their batons into their palms.
"I'm gonna give you till the count of three," Wynchel said, "before I take ol Bessie here and pound your stupid gray head flat as a pancake. One—"
"Awright, awright!" Turbo said, scrambling to his feet. "I'm up, I'm up! Geez, Louise…"
"Turn around," Duncan drawled.
The racer sighed dramatically, but he did as he was told. "What now? Hands behind my back?"
"Yep," the donut guards said in unison.
"Aw, what? I was just kid—ow! What was that for?" Turbo rubbed the back of his head where he'd just been smacked.
"For your back-sass," Wynchel said. "Now, hands behind your back."
Turbo grumbled, but he did as he was told. He felt a pair of cool metal handcuffs squeeze shut against his wrists. He made a move to turn around, but Duncan ground his baton into the middle of the racer's back.
"Not yet, wise guy," Duncan said. "Feet together."
Turbo was about to open his mouth to protest, but why bother at that point, really? He touched his sneakers together. A heavy shackle was snapped around each ankle. There was enough chain between the leg cuffs to walk, but not much else. He definitely wouldn't be running anywhere.
"Face forward," Duncan said. Turbo shuffled around.
"Now, let's get one thing straight," Wynchel said. "President Vanellope, for whatever reason, seems to think you and your visitor need a little privacy. But believe you me, we'll be standing guard right outside your cell. If we so much as hear a peep outta you, you won't be having any more visitors for a long, long time."
"And by long time," Duncan said, "he means never again. We clear?"
"Crystal," Turbo said.
"Alright," Wynchel said. The two ambled through the doorway. "We'll send 'em in."
The door to Turbo's cell remained open a crack, but no one entered. He exhaled deeply. For a second, there, he had actually hoped somebody might be coming to see him. But it was clear to him now: the point of all this was either to entice him to try and run, which would get him in more trouble than he was already in, or to fill him with false hope. He imagined it was the latter.
He was staring at the ground when the door eased its way open. He didn't bother looking up. Those stupid donuts had gone and depressed him, now. He pursed his lips.
"Ya got me," he said, staring at the tips of his shoes. "It was a laugh. Ha-ha. Now couldja at least undo these handcuffs now? They're a little on the snug side."
"Turbo?" came a meek little voice—a voice which definitely did not belong to Wynchel or Duncan.
His entire body went rigid and cold. He thought he might pass out. Surely he hadn't heard…nah. He'd just been in this cell too long, that was all. He was getting cabin fever. He…
He was afraid to look up, but he knew he had to. So he did.
His eyes were immediately drawn to the golden hammer notched into his visitor's utility belt, glowing ever-so-faintly. He forced himself to meet his visitor's eyes.
How long had it been since he'd locked eyes with Fix-it Felix, Jr.? Thirty years, give or a take a few? Even though it had been so long, everything came rushing back like it was just the other day. A wave of nostalgia came crashing over him so strongly that he wanted to puke. Turbo felt like someone had just dumped a pitcher of ice water directly into his stomach.
"Felix," Turbo said stupidly.
Felix wouldn't look him in the eye; the handyman's gaze wandered over to the smattering of cards surrounding Turbo's upturned helmet.
"Hope you don't mind me, ah…stopping by," Felix said.
Turbo swallowed. He tried his best to muster some bravado from deep inside himself. He started tittering to himself, a nervous tic he'd always had. And it just went downhill from there.
"Eheh…nah…heh heh…I mean…I just can't even believe you're here," he said. He winced. Why the hell did he say that? Why, why, why?
"It took me awhile to build up the nerve to come down here," Felix admitted. "I didn't know…how you would be."
The racer figured he knew what Felix meant by that statement. He could mean physically—would he look like King Candy? That creepy bug-thing? Or would he look like his old self? And then there was also the uncertainty of what his mental state would be like…Turbo did feel his sanity slipping away near the end, there. Felix could've meant a lot of things by saying that, none of which were any better than the one before it.
"Can't blame ya there," Turbo sighed.
Felix looked at him. He didn't look mad—he almost never did, Turbo remembered—just troubled. Troubled and a little sad.
"Could I ask you something?" Felix said.
Shit, Turbo thought. His face burned.
After the first year of hiding behind the altered code of King Candy, Turbo had pretty much lost all hope that he'd ever see Felix again. It just couldn't happen, lest his cover be blown. But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't spent many a sleepless night imagining this very conversation that was no doubt about to transpire. The Big Talk. The "Try and Explain to Felix Why I'm a Dumbass" Talk. But it was a very different scenario when Felix was actually standing in front of him.
There was no way to avoid it now. He couldn't even run away, if he was so inclined—he was literally in chains.
He took a deep breath. "Go ahead," Turbo said slowly.
"Well, there are actually lots of questions I've had on my mind for…well, for a while now," Felix said. Felix gestured toward the stone floor. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"
Only Felix would ask permission to sit on a prison floor. Turbo smiled, but there was no happiness in the gesture.
"Course I don't mind," Turbo tittered. There he went again with the nervous snickers. He bit his lip to try and stifle them. "But you're probably more comfy standin up, y'know."
Felix sat crisscross-applesauce on the floor. He let his hands rest on his knees, looking up at Turbo expectantly.
"Don'tcha want to get a little more comfortable, there?"
Turbo opened his mouth to say some sort of snarky retort, but he thought better of it. He slid down the wall and jutted his legs out in front of him—as well as he could, anyway.
Not much better, honestly, Turbo thought. But the man in front of him looked more relaxed, at least. He supposed he wouldn't want someone looming over the top of him while trying to talk to them, either.
"Awright," Turbo said, steeling himself. "Go ahead and ask the first question."
"Why didn't you tell me before you game-jumped?"
The question flew out of Felix's mouth so quickly that Turbo was taken aback. He assumed they'd work their way up to the harder questions. A lump formed in his throat. He opened his mouth to attempt to answer, but Felix interjected something else.
"We saw each other the night before you did it," Felix said. "Do you remember that?"
Turbo didn't have to think about the answer.
"Yeah. I definitely remember."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
Turbo leaned forward.
"Because you would've tried to stop me."
"Exactly!" Felix threw his hands in the air. It was a rare moment to see Felix angry. Turbo could count on a hand how many times he'd seen it, and it didn't get any easier to watch with time. It still gave him a shameful feeling, even now. Especially now.
Felix pointed his finger at Turbo. "You—! You could've talked to me about it! About wanting to—!"
The handyman was getting flustered. Anger takes a lot out of a person who isn't used to dealing with the emotion.
"Did you not trust me enough?" Felix's voice cracked.
Felix might as well have plunged a knife into Turbo's gut and twisted it around.
"Of course I trusted you, ya know I did! Aside from my brothers, you were…the only other person I did trust."
Felix's eyes widened. "And that's another thing! Your brothers. How…how could you?"
"How could I wha—oh," Turbo said.
"Huh?"
Felix must not have known. How could he have known? Turbo couldn't look Felix in the eye anymore. He couldn't bear the look he was about to get.
"It's a long story. I mean, a really long story."
"I hate to say this, but you aren't doing that great of a job answering my questions," Felix huffed. "You're just making me think of more, quite honestly."
"I know," Turbo said, crestfallen. "But…I mean…it ain't like I'm going anywhere. I could…I mean, I could definitely tell you the story, if you wanna hear it. If it'd…if it'd help."
Felix placed an elbow on either knee and rested his face in his palms. "Then let's start from the beginning."
Turbo winced. He didn't want to recount this story, as it wasn't a very happy one, nor was it something he was particularly proud of. But if there was anyone who deserved to hear it—if there was anyone he owed it to—it was Felix.
"You're gonna be here awhile."
"That's okay."
"'Kay, then. Let's see, where to start…ah. I know."
Author's Note: I've got a couple more chapters of this written up, but they're still in the proofreading stages. I want to make sure they're exactly how I want em before I add them on. Anyway, if you've made it all the way here, thanks for reading the first chapter! You are a really nice and cool person and I'm giving you a thumbs-up right now.