A Game of Pong

By Crankyman7

Vanellope watched through the screen of Sugar Rush as the lights dimmed. It had been an exhausting day; their game was the most popular it had been in years, and it was all because of her. It was a reputation that was proving time-consuming to live up to, this popularity among the other players. Fortunately, she always had Ralph to restrain her, should she have been tempted to rub it in the others racer's faces- as indeed, she had been often.

Why anger them? she always reminded herself. They've been going out of their way to be nice to me. And they all still get chosen in races anyway, so it's not like anyone gets ignored.

The lights were finally out. She turned and headed straight for the wire that led to game Central Station. She passed the candy fields, went up the rainbow, through the wire…and then met the Surge Protector.

"Name?"

It was the same monotonous voice, day in and day out, that Vanellope heard every time she entered or exited her game and was hearing now. It was the same monotonous voice that slowed her down needlessly, she thought.

"Name?" said the voice again.

"President Vanellope von Schweetz."

"Destination?"

She hadn't thought about that one. Ralph had said he'd be otherwise occupied that night, so she hadn't been sure what she'd do.

"Destination?"

"Um…"

"You need a suggestion?" the Surge Protector asked.

"Sure, why not?" Vanellope blurted out.

"Pong," said the Surge Protector.

"Pong?" Vanellope asked. "What's Pong?"

"It's a Ping-Pong game," said the Surge Protector. "It's one of the oldest games around."

"Fine," said Vanellope, as much to escape the conversation as to have something to do.

"Pong," said the Surge Protector. "Okay. Are you carrying anything?"

"My brains, duh!"

"What you have of them," the Surge Protector replied bluntly. He held up a hand to cut off Vanellope's reply and asked: "Anything to tell me?"

"Inject some more emotion into your voice," Vanellope said. "Then maybe this'd be less irritating."

"A fascinating suggestion," said the Surge Protector. "Might I also suggest you improve your attitude?"

Vanellope almost shot back a snarky response, but she held her tongue. The Surge Protector had a point.

"Fair enough," she said.

She headed straight for Pong, sliding into the wire that would take her into the game. All the way down, she wondered what it would be like.

And then she came out of the wire and saw it- the vast carpet of black with the white net stretched across it, contrastingly starkly with its surroundings. A screen could be found in each of the upper corners that displayed the scores when the game was in use. The lighting was dimmed, and there was no one in sight.

"Like it?" said a voice behind her.

Vanellope gave a yelp of surprise and glitched herself three feet into the air before landing flat on her face. She picked herself up in time to see a white paddle floating before her. It had no trace of facial features and yet it seemed capable of sight, hearing, and speech. The voice seemed to come from within the center of the paddle, and it was almost ethereal in tone.

"Ye-ye-yes," Vanellope stammered. "It's nice."

"You know," said the paddle, circling her, "you're the first visitor we've had around here in ages. We're popular with the players, but with our fellow game characters…not so much.'

'So," the paddle continued, "what brings you down here?"

"The Surge Protector…suggested I come."

The paddle sighed, and the sigh was like the soft passing of the wind.

"I might have guessed we owed the occasion to charity," it said. "Old Surge must have been feeling sorry for us and sent you down here."

"I don't know," Vanellope admitted. "You…never get visitors?"

"Never," said the paddle. Then, it leaned back; had it had limbs, Vanellope would have expected it to be clapping a hand to its forehead. "Oh, it's been so long I'm forgetting my manners," it said. "Name's Otis, by the way."

"I'd shake your hand, if you had a hand," said Vanellope.

"You can shake my handle," said Otis. Vanellope did so.

"Hey Floyd!" Otis called. "Hey Floyd! We got a visitor!"

"First time in twenty years," said another paddle, floating rapidly from the far side of the field towards Vanellope. "First time in twenty stinking years some other character has had the courtesy to acknowledge our presence, yet we were the forerunners of so many games that have come along since we debuted. We were here before Mario, before Kirby, before Felix, before Link and Zelda, yes even before players were beating back alien invasions."

"Right, in Space Invaders," said Vanellope.

"Been learning your history, huh kid?"

"Right uh…Floyd?"

"That's my name, kid," said the paddle. "So, what brings you down here?"

"Curiosity, I guess," said Vanellope.

"Curiosity, eh?" said Floyd. "Great, we're a source of mere curiosity now. You hear that Otis? That's rich, that is."

"Don't scare off the girl," Otis told Floyd, his ethereal voice contrasting sharply with the snarky tones of his fellow paddle. "She's done you and me a favor, coming down here to cheer us out of our loneliness."

"So we're now to be objects of charity?" said Floyd. "I'm so delighted." He floated closer to Vanellope. "You got a name, cutie?"

Vanellope tried to make herself look as tall as she possibly could. "Vanellope von Schweetz, Princess of Sugar Rush," she said.

"You can try to look imposing all you like kid," said Floyd. "You'll just succeed in looking absurdly adorable."

Vanellope was incensed. How dare this paddle ridicule her?

"And you…can try to sound tough all you want, but it's just all bluster I bet!" she exclaimed.

"Oh boy," said Otis. "Now you've done it."

Indeed, she had. Floyd zipped right up to Vanellope's face, leaning over her and forcing her to bend backwards in surprise.

"Sassy, are we?" he said. "We'll, how about a match of Ping-Pong between you and me, huh? Let's see if you can turn your verbal pluck into action."

"I…don't know how to play," said Vanellope, caught off guard. She looked towards Otis, silently imploring him to save her from the predicament.

"Oh don't worry, Otis here can give you a rundown on the rules," said Floyd. "Can't you Otis?"

"I can do that," said Otis.

"Then it's settled," said Floyd. "Otis, tell Miss Sassy here how our little game works."

"But I didn't agree to play!" Vanellope protested.

"No use backing out on Floyd when he's like this," said Otis. "He'll trumpet your cowardice to the world if you don't play."

"I'm no coward," said Vanellope, her eyes narrowing.

"Then play," said Floyd. "Otis, tell her how it works."

"It's simple," said Otis. "One player starts the game by hitting the ball across with a paddle. The other has to knock it back to the other side of the net without it hitting the ground on their side. Points are scored when a player fails to hit a ball back over the net and it hits the ground on their side. When that happens, the player whose side the ball did not fall on gets a point. The player with the most points at the end of the game wins.'

'For this game, we're going to make a few adjustments," Otis continued. "Each player will use a small paddle, and the ball will be smaller to accommodate this change. Ordinarily, Floyd and I would be the paddles and the balls would be larger, but you, Vanellope, are not a paddle. For that reason, you also cannot touch the ball with any part of yourselves, except to throw it in order to start a new face-off once a point is earned."

"This'll be good," Vanellope said, giggling. "A paddle using a paddle. Who would have thought it?"

"I'm making this as fair as I can," said Floyd. "In case you didn't notice, I'm bigger than you. If I used myself, it'd be a gross mismatch."

"If you all are done interrupting," said Otis, "Here's the rest of the information. The maximum score for the match will be nine points."

"That's all?" said Floyd.

"It's all you two need to prove whatever you seem so determined to prove," said Otis, and Vanellope could detect a hint of frustration behind his words.

"Are you ready kid?" Floyd asked Vanellope.

"Yeah," said Vanellope. "Ready to whip your butt."

"Fat chance of that," said Floyd. "Paddles deploy!"

Two paddles rose out of the floor, one in front of each player. Vanellope grasped hers tightly, while Floyd's rose into the air, its handle resting alongside the place where his own head met his own handle.

A ball shot out of the ground in front of Vanellope.

"Our guest gets the courtesy of starting the match," said Otis. "Vanellope, you may begin."

Vanellope grasped the ball in her left hand. It felt oddly heavy, but she managed to hit it over the edge of the net with her paddle nevertheless. Moments later, it came whizzing back. Faster than she could spot it, the ball had hit the ground on her side of the net. Floyd's screen flashed the number one.

"Nice try sweetie," said Floyd, "but you'll have to be faster than that."

Fuming, she tossed the ball back to Floyd, who began the new round. Once again, she was beaten. And again. And then again. And again once more. Each time, Floyd's screen flashed a higher number.

The sixth round began, and Vanellope readied herself once more. This time, she was going to hit the ball, she decided. She saw it coming, aimed carefully, timing here swing…and sent the ball flying over the net and crashing directly into Floyd. The paddle was sent hurtling backwards until he hit the far wall of the field.

"Floyd!" Otis cried out in alarm. He zipped towards the spot where his fellow paddle had landed. Vanellope raced after him, worry etched on her features.

Floyd had shattered into three pieces against the far wall, and was in the process of regenerating when they arrived. Whole once more, he hurtled towards Vanellope, towering over her like a prophet of woe. Had he possessed a face, Vanellope was sure Floyd would have been glaring. As it was, his voice conveyed every ounce of furious bewilderment that the fiercest glare could have.

"How much force did you put into that blow?" he shouted. "If I had been outside my game, you'd have killed me. What were you thinking, you idiotic child?"

Floyd stopped. Tears were sliding down Vanellope's cheeks and her body was shaking as though she feared imminent retaliation.

"I didn't mean…I didn't want to…" she whispered. "I broke you."

Floyd backed slowly away from Vanellope. His tone somewhat kindlier, he said: "I do believe you were worried about me."

"I know what loneliness is," she said. "I experienced it for fifteen years. And then I meet someone who's had a similar experience…and all I can do is treat him like dirt."

"I don't know what you went through kid," said Floyd, "though a few rumors reached me. I don't expect you to share your story right now either. But I know one thing- being mostly ignored for twenty solid years can make a guy bitter. And that bitterness just grows when you know that it's not any malevolence on the part of others, but rather simple indifference. Someone who hates you cares about you, if only in a negative fashion. But when people don't care one way or the other…" He sighed. "For some, that can be far worse than outright rejection."

Otis began nudging Vanellope towards the game's exit. "Maybe you'd better go now," he said.

"No, that's alright," said Floyd. "I'd like Vanellope to stay awhile longer…if she's open to doing so."

A smile crept onto Vanellope's face. She nodded.

Daylight was creeping into the sky outside the arcade as Vanellope exited Pong. She almost didn't see the Surge Protector, until he was inches away from her face.

"Name?" he asked.

"Vanellope von Schweetz." The reply was in a normal voice, with no sign of irritation behind it.

"Destination?"

"Sugar Rush."

"Are you carrying anything?"

"No."

"Anything to tell me?"

"I'm trying to work on my attitude."

"That's a new one," said the Surge Protector, and Vanellope thought she could sense the faintest flicker of an emotion in his voice. She couldn't tell what it was though.

"I'm attempting to convey pleasure," said the Surge Protector.

"Sorry, I couldn't tell," said Vanellope with a small laugh. "But I thought I heard just a hint of something in your voice. Keep trying."

She walked on, as the Surge Protector bashed his head against the wall of Game Central Station.

Author's Note: I extend my thanks to JarrettSoon for editing this first story, and for showing an appreciation for the underlying concept.