Part 6

An hour left until gameplay, Calhoun left her sleeping husband. She pressed a kiss to his hair. Glancing back at him one more time, she tried to tamp out the thought that this may be the last time she'd see him sleeping in their bed.

"How is he?" Ralph asked as Calhoun marched down the stairs.

"Same." She paused near the couch where Ralph sat. "He could be out for a while. Don't be surprised if the 'Out of Order' sign gets slapped on the screen."

Ralph hung his head. "Yeah, I figured as much."

"Keep your chin up, Wreck-It. Hero's Duty will do everything possible to get that hammer back," she said, not sure if who she was trying to reassure more – Ralph or herself.

"Good luck, Sarge."

Calhoun nodded in response as she turned to the front door. She was halfway out the entrance when, "Wreck-It, take care of my husband," she said with more emotion in her voice than she wished to portray.

He saluted her respectfully. "Yes, ma'am."

"Listen up, ladies!" Calhoun yelled as she paced the length of her troops standing at attention. "When I give the signal, the golden cybug is to be released and monitored at all times. You will do everything possible to aid the player and minimize the risk of losing it to the beacon. That cybug must be killed or a good game will be lost."

They knew it wasn't just another game they were fighting to save. It was their sergeant's home and that raised the stakes even higher.

She slowed her pacing, sweeping her serious gaze over the line of soldiers. "Don't let me down."

The troops marched out, readying their positions assigned to them for this special mission. Calhoun scooped up her helmet underneath an arm, inwardly readying herself. Though the sergeant craved a challenge, the stakes were too great to enjoy anything about this one.

Calhoun slipped on her headgear as the FPS robot rolled up, and waited. And waited. Weekday mornings usually weren't crowded, and from their viewpoint, there were few gamers milling around the aisles of the arcade.

Mr. Litwak passed, making his hourly rounds. Right behind him was a dark-haired boy around 10 years of age. Calhoun held her breath, catching a snippet of the boy as he looked intently at the Fix-It Felix, Jr. cabinet. He was fishing a quarter out of his pocket when someone called for him and the boy scampered off.

She prayed for the sake of her husband's game that it remained unpopular today. If the classic game could make it through the day without any players, there'd be no chance of the silly little sick cabinet sign Litwak slaps on screens.

By the afternoon business had picked up, but only 2 players had attempted Hero's Duty, and neither were up to par for Calhoun. The waiting was eating at her, causing her stomach to churn harshly. She stalked over to a nearby empty corridor in the station needing a moment to herself. She slowed to a stop, staring angrily at the floor. With a guttural roar, she slammed her fist in the metal wall, ignoring the shooting pain that most likely was a fractured bone.

Her thoughts were on Felix and how he was holding up. She hoped Wreck-It wasn't allowing her husband to do anything stupid.

A playing card flew across the living room, flying over the baseball cap that sat on the floor. It banged into the wall, leaving a slender dent on the vertical surface. Ralph winced. If Felix got his hammer back at least he could fix the damage.

He set the deck of cards on the coffee table before creating anymore mishap. He sighed listlessly. Without Vanellope, he'd gotten quite bored just sitting around, especially in a house that wasn't his. The little racer never ceased to entertain, and though Ralph enjoyed quiet time, he found himself missing the constant pep of the talkative girl.

He stood deciding a little fresh air would do him some good. Maybe Q-bert and his pals were around. They couldn't exactly have a conversation, but at least it would be company.

It was eerily peaceful in East Niceland. Coily was outside as well, chilling on the front stoop of the Q-bert gang's building across the courtyard. Ralph waved, and the purple snake bounced on his tail in response but didn't make his way over. Oh well.

Ralph looked at the tall apartment building passed East Niceland. Through the windows he could see the round little occupants going about their business with a few exceptions. He spied Don packing a suitcase, apparently preparing just in case the recovery mission failed.

Boy, was he thankful Calhoun had explained to the Nicelanders what was going on. Some took it surprising well (as opposed to last time when he went turbo), but others were in full panic mode. Gene demanded to see Felix, but Calhoun had put him in his place with a glare that could cut iron and an order that absolutely no one was to bother Felix while he rested from his injury.

Ralph suspected there was question as to why the bad guy and hyperactive racer from another game had full access to the hero of Fix-It Felix, Jr., but he was sure Calhoun snuffed out that debate pronto.

"Ralph?" The wrecker perked up at the call of his name. He jumped to his feet a little too fast, bending the black iron railing on the steps. He hurried inside to find Felix at the bottom of the stairs, a distressed look on his face.

"Need something, buddy?"

Felix frowned. "It's game time." It was then that Ralph noticed the haphazardly way Felix's work shirt was pulled on and left unbuttoned.

Ralph heaved a sigh. "Felix, you know we can't go to work without your hammer. Whether we're out there during a quarter alert or not, someone will notice there's something wrong with the game."

"Maybe if we pretend like the game is being played, we could convince the players that they're just having no luck with our game today."

The handyman was sure determined to fix this mess, even if it was just patching it until the right tool – literally - was available. Calhoun would have his hide if she knew he let Felix work in the conditions that he did with such a great injury and besides, "Aren't you in pain? Have you taken your painkillers lately?"

Felix nibbled his bottom lip for a moment before pouting. "I haven't since I woke up and I won't if we go through with this. I'd rather be in pain and aware than feeling dandy but out of it."

"Eye-yi-yi," Ralph facepalmed. Of course, he would. Another thought struck him. "Players will notice you aren't holding your hammer!"

"I have an idea."

When Felix had enough clarity to think of this plan, Ralph couldn't fathom. Or maybe that was it, the handyman wasn't thinking clearly. Three hours had passed since the arcade opened and the crowd was most likely picking up. The idea was dangerous, especially for Felix's wellbeing, but it may just work.

Ralph pinched two blocky fingers to the bridge of his nose, wondering if game over was an easier death than being fatally punched by the Sarge.