Warnings: Hero's Cuties, pretty heavy gore level and yucky stuff in general.

It didn't take long for Felix to find Calhoun—in fact, it didn't take but a second. She was standing near the entrance to Hero's Duty, a hand on her hip, neck craned upward. She was frowning, too, and it was obvious what about. There was a sizeable jagged hole in the ceiling, the metal twisted and curled. It looked to Felix like it had been gnawed open.

"I'm guessing a Cybug did that," he said as he walked through the entryway.

Calhoun's stern face softened for a brief moment as she smiled at him. "You guessed right," she said. "And we can't find it."

She turned to one of the three soldiers standing nearby. "Has Area Five been searched yet?"

The soldier on the far left punched a few buttons on the device in his hand, a crazy thing Felix couldn't even begin to imagine the functions of, with all the antennae and wires hanging from it. "Not yet, Sergeant."

"You two get on that," she said, pointing to two of the three. "Adams, do you think you can fix this hole?"

A homely-looking woman looked up at the hole and nodded. "Well," the woman apparently named Adams said, "this isn't what I usually do, but I think I can handle it…I can at least solder a piece of sheet metal over it."

Calhoun's shoulders relaxed. "Wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful."

She turned her attention to Felix. "You have great timing, I think I've got everything taken care of. For now, at least. How was the party?"

"Well," he began, wincing a little. It was obvious she was already under a lot of stress, but he didn't really know what else to do. He recounted to her how he'd accidentally made his way down to the Sugar Rush dungeon and what he'd seen there.

Calhoun nodded as Felix told her the tale, but she looked skeptical.

"I think I'd have to see it to believe it," she said. "I've seen stranger, but it sounds a little sketchy to me. Sounds like Turbo might be pulling the wool over your eyes."

That was possible, Felix thought. He hadn't been able to see anything inside the cell, after all, because it was way too dark. Turbo might be putting on an elaborate act—something that was definitely not out of the racer's comfort zone—in the hopes that his cell door would be opened to investigate, and he could make an escape.

"Well, if we're going to see what's going on, I'll need a few things," Calhoun said. She beckoned a hand in Felix's direction. "Let's walk and talk."

She led the way down a hallway, walking slower than her usual pace for Felix's sake. It went without saying that her legs were a lot longer than his, and he'd be sprinting to keep up if she held her usual gait.

"So I was under the impression Turbo was dead, were you not?" Calhoun asked him.

"I'm just as surprised as you are," Felix said. "I wonder how he made it out of that…whatever you'd call it…diet cola eruption alive, you know?"

"He had to've had a respawn code programmed into the game," Calhoun said. "No telling how many times a Player ran him off a cliff, or something—he's probably died and regenerated lots of times over the years."

Felix wanted to bring up the fact that he was under the impression that, when Vanellope was finally able to cross the finish line at the Random Roster Race, everything was set to rights. That was including all of the code Turbo had programmed into the game. In theory, wouldn't it just completely erase Turbo from existence? But that obviously hadn't happened. Turbo was still in the Sugar Rush dungeon. Wasn't he?

He didn't voice any of this because the two of them had reached their temporary destination—a small supply room located just before the entrance to the cafeteria. Felix had noticed the door there before, on his way to said cafeteria, but hadn't even thought to question what was in it. Now he knew.

Calhoun grabbed a large, gunmetal-black rucksack and began filling it with things she grabbed from the supply shelves. Felix couldn't be too sure, but a lot of it looked like ammunition, and two things were definitely some kind of firearm. He saw a harpoon gun and extra line go into the bag, for sure, some more small containers with Land knew what inside. Lastly, she threw a large spool of paracord and something folded and made of cloth into her bag.

"You never can be too prepared," she said, apparently noting Felix's questioning countenance.

"Oh!" Felix said. "Speaking of which…" He scanned the shelves' contents. Surely there was one somewhere…yep.

But he couldn't reach. Of course. Everything was just too big for him here. He pointed at the top shelf. "We need flashlights. I was really wishing I'd had one when I was down there. Could you please…?"

She grabbed them and threw them in among the rest of the junk. "Good thinking, soldier," she said, giving his shoulder a punch (which actually hurt quite a lot and made Felix's eyes water, but he was able to keep a straight face). "Maybe you ought to join our ranks." She shouldered the rucksack and led the way back out into the main hall.

"Do you think you'd have some of this fancy armor small enough to fit me?" Felix said. How he wished he could offer to carry his gal's bag, but it probably weighed three times as much as he did.

"It's all custom-made, we can getcha some," she said. She flicked the brim of his hat down into his eyes. She loved doing that to him, for some reason. Had it been anyone but her, it might've gotten annoying, but he was grinning like a loon as he straightened his cap back into its proper place.

The girl Calhoun had called Adams was now standing on the second rung of a folding ladder, a black protective mask over her face, blowtorch in hand. It looked to Felix like she was trying to melt away the hard edges of the hole, to smooth it out for aesthetics, probably. He didn't know a whole terrible lot about metalwork—not his forte.

"Adams," Calhoun called.

Adams lifted the mask away from her face, her thick glasses askew. "Yeah, Sarge?"

"I'm going out," Calhoun said. "If anybody needs me, it'll have to wait. You and Kohut hold down the fort while I'm gone."

"Got it. I'll ask questions later." Adams flicked her mask down to her face and gave Calhoun a thumbs-up.

For Adams to be so casual with Calhoun, she must've been a friend. Felix smiled. Calhoun needed a female friend amongst all these gruff men she was always surrounded by. It'd be good for her.

"To the tram we go," Calhoun said. "Let's move out."

{*}

"You don't think people will be, uh…wondering why you have that huge backpack?" Felix asked Calhoun as they walked toward the castle.

"Nah," she said. "People don't ask you why you've got your fancy hammer all the time, do they?"

"Oh," Felix said. "Good point." People probably wouldn't think anything of it, then. Which was good, because they needed to draw as little attention as possible.

"Alright, Fix-it, you lead the way from here," she said as they made their way through the huge castle doors, held open for them by two peppermint gents.

Again, there was hardly anyone out in the main hall, other than a few sweaty people taking a break from partying. Hopefully, they wouldn't run into anyone they knew. Felix casually made his way down the hallway to his left.

The further they walked, the sparser the people became, and when they reached the dungeon door, there was no one in sight. A small blessing, Felix thought with an inward sigh. He tried the door. It was still unlocked from when he was there an hour prior.

He flicked the light on and led the way down, Calhoun following close behind him. As they descended the last stair, Calhoun hummed a sound of agreement.

"Yep," she said, "that's definitely the smell of blood. Can't fake that, at least."

She was ahead of Felix now, walking to the end of the dungeon to the last cell door, where Turbo was allegedly locked. She unshouldered her rucksack and fished a flashlight out of it.

"Good thing you thought of these," she said. "I think they would've slipped my mind. Lemme just take a peek through this window, here…"

She clicked on the flashlight, which emitted a clean white beam. She shined it through the tiny window at the top of the cell door and looked inside.

Her hand faltered a tad, something that might've gone unnoticed, but Felix saw. His stomach fluttered.

"My God…"

"What is it?" he said anxiously.

She didn't answer. She was shining her flashlight all over. He didn't press her. Her eyes grew wider, her lips slightly parted.

"Can you hear me?" she called into the cell.

There wasn't an immediate response, but she waited.

"Little bit," came the reply, not much more than a faint gurgle of a voice.

"Shit," she muttered. She turned away from the cell window, cleared her throat. She kneeled down on one knee, her mouth at Felix's ear level, to whisper to him.

"I don't think this is one of Turbo's stupid tricks," she murmured. "There's no way he could…I think he's really…" she sighed. Felix had never seen her lost for words like that. He was getting worried.

She sighed softly. "We'll have to get him outta there."

In a way, Felix was relieved. He was afraid she might be in favor of keeping Turbo locked up in there, no matter what state he was in. Then again…for Calhoun to want to get Turbo out of there, he must be in pretty rough shape…

"There's a key on the wall over there," Felix said, pointing to the item in question. Calhoun nodded, straightening herself back into a standing position, and grabbed the key. She wasted no time in unlocking the cell door. She opened it a crack before staring back at Felix.

"I don't think you should look," she said.

"That bad?" Felix said quietly. She nodded.

Felix had a weak stomach. He supposed he really shouldn't look. He really, really, really shouldn't.

But he had to. He couldn't let Calhoun handle this alone, he needed to help her if he could, he needed to be brave. He grabbed the other flashlight from Calhoun's bag and took a breath. He clicked it on.

Calhoun looked at him in a way that said "please, don't" but Felix simply shook his head.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I want to help you handle this."

Wordlessly, Calhoun swung the cell door open. The coppery blood smell hit Felix's nostrils again, and it was enough to make him second-guess looking inside, but he stayed strong. He shined his light inside.

He gasped. Loudly and deeply. It made the smell of blood fill his lungs all the more quickly and he could feel himself getting lightheaded. He gripped the flashlight firmer, like that might help him stay in this reality a little better. It didn't help much.

The first thing that caught his eye was the oversized candy cane plunged into Turbo's chest. It wasn't directly through the center, it was more to the side, and there was no way it could've missed Turbo's right lung. That would account for the trouble breathing, no doubt. As Turbo struggled to send breaths through his body, the candy cane bobbed up and down, up and down, almost rhythmically.

And the next thing Felix saw was that the right side of Turbo's face was caked in blood and…something else. Something thick. Oh, Land, his eye. His right eye was gone. There was a gaping socket where it should've been, slick and empty and wrong. Felix thought he saw a thick vein trailing down, the stalk of his eye, maybe, but he didn't look too closely. He couldn't make himself look at it again.

He couldn't be sure, but Turbo's leg looked broken. It was bending in a way it shouldn't bend, Felix could tell that even through the white of Turbo's racing suit. Well, it should've been white. It was covered with dirt and blood now, completely ruined and disgusting. Even Turbo's helmet was cracked, right down the middle.

With his one remaining eye, Turbo looked first at Felix, then at Calhoun. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out but some kind of pained sound only slightly resembling a word. Something black and clotted dripped from the corner of Turbo's mouth as he attempted to speak.

Felix took two calm, collected steps backwards and out of the cell, bent his head down, and vomited.

"I thought you'd do that," Calhoun called from the cell. "You just stay out there. I'll take care of this."

He heard the clinking of metal on metal as he heaved, presumably Calhoun unlocking Turbo's wrists from their wall shackles. His stomach was empty, he knew that, but he kept on retching. He couldn't stop thinking about that candy cane undulating in Turbo's chest in time with his ragged breaths. How could someone even…think of that? To do that?

Calhoun carried him out damsel-in-distress style, cradling the broken thing in her arms almost lovingly. Felix couldn't even look at him. Turbo looked even worse out in the light. He held his breath, to try and keep from gagging in front of Calhoun.

"Get the tarp out of my bag and spread it out," she said to Felix, softly. He could tell by her voice that this wasn't a sergeant commanding her men, this was a pal asking another pal a favor. He nodded, wiping at his mouth with his wrist. He did as he was told, spreading the tarp out along the cell floor, careful to avoid his puddle of sick.

She laid the racer down gently, like he was made of porcelain. He was so gray-white, he almost looked it.

"If he had a respawn code, for sure," she said, "it'd be easier to just…" She mimed shooting him in the head with her thumb and forefinger. "Put him out of his misery and let him regenerate. But I don't know if he does, or not…and I can't really ask him, huh?"

Turbo's eye wandered across her face, unseeing. It fluttered closed. Felix was fairly sure he'd passed out.

Felix could still taste bile at the back of his mouth. He swallowed, his hand pulling his golden hammer out of its holster loop.

He palmed the familiar grip, feeling the calming weight in his hand.

"I can fix it," he mumbled, nodding slightly to himself.

"If you can't stomach it," Calhoun said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure my hospital ward can patch him up." But even she sounded uncertain. He'd probably die on his own before they stabilized him, and Felix knew that.

"I'll be fine," he said, trying to sound chipper for his gal, but failing. He gave her a false smile. She just patted him on the shoulder. Pat, pat, pat.

"I'll help any way I can," Calhoun said. Her voice was steady and reassuring. Felix couldn't possibly let her down. He had to do this.

"Okay," he said. "Let's start with…this."

His eyes fell upon the candy cane protruding from Turbo's chest, swaying back and forth with each weak breath the racer forced in and out of his ruined lungs. Calhoun understood his gist. She grabbed the curve of the candy and pulled.

Felix saw a flapping of skin and some kind of sucking sound. In and out. Turbo was forcing air through both his mouth and the new hole in his chest. Felix bit down on his tongue to keep from concentrating on the nausea welling within him. He tapped gently at the edge of the wound and watched as Turbo's gray skin stitched itself back together vein by vein, and even the fabric of his racing suit threaded itself back together.

Turbo's eye snapped open. He took in a sharp, loud breath. He sat up and coughed, took another deep breath, coughed. He spat chunks of things into his lap, expelling them from his lungs. His chest heaved with the now plentiful air he was receiving, and Felix thought he saw a smidgen of relief cross Turbo's face.

"Wow," Turbo gasped. "Shit. Wow."

He placed a hand on his chest, feeling the place where the candy cane had been. He looked at Felix, then down at the handyman's bloody hammer. With a shaking hand, he pointed at it, grinning.

"That thing is…wow. Ah, shit," he said, eye rolling back to his head. "I can breathe."

"It should fix you," Felix said. "Here, ah…your eye. Socket. Let's try…"

He tapped ever-so-slightly underneath the empty hole where Turbo's eye had been. Strings of muscle looped round and round, the yellow sclera and black pupil flowing like melted butter from the top of his socket back to their rightful place, the deep wound at his tear duct meshing back to its original gray.

It worked, Felix thought with a feeling not unlike joy. He did Turbo's leg next. With a series of hollow popping sounds, Turbo's leg realigned itself to its original structure.

"One more," Turbo said with a weak voice. One more what? Felix wondered. Turbo tried to lift his cracked helmet from his head, but Felix reassured him.

"I got it," Felix said. He tapped the helmet and the crack filled itself, good as new. But Turbo shook his head.

"No," he uttered. "Underneath…underneath my helmet."

He tried to lift the helmet from his head again, but this time it was Calhoun who intervened. She pulled his hands away from it, grabbing it herself. It was stuck. She yanked.

It was like ripping the candy cane from his chest, only on a smaller scale. Dozens of tiny holes dotted his scalp. Calhoun turned his helmet over, grimaced.

"What?" Felix asked.

Calhoun turned the helmet over for him to see. A smattering of some kind of sharp things were sloppily glued to the top of his helmet, so once the helmet was put back on his head, they would embed themselves indefinitely into his scalp.

"What are those?" Felix questioned.

He was actually asking Calhoun, but Turbo answered. "Some kinda candy," he said. "I could smell it. Some kinda vanilla-something."

Felix tapped at the inside of the helmet and cleared it of the unwanted sharp candies. He healed each individual hole on Turbo's head with a series of tap-tap-taps. The closer he got to being finished, the more relieved Turbo looked.

"Much bettah," Turbo mumbled as his eyes slid closed. But he suddenly cracked his eyes open a tad.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked. His voice may have been weak, but the question was very clear. Felix flicked his eyes over at Calhoun for support, but he could read nothing in her eyes. He sighed.

"It's what Good Guys do, I suppose," he said. "I knew you were in pain, and I couldn't just leave you down here…not like…you were."

Felix wasn't sure if the look Turbo was giving him was a smile or a grimace. Probably a combination of both.

"Well…" Turbo said. "You've bought me a couple hours of relief. At least until that party of theirs is over. Then they'll be back at it, I'm sure."

"Who is 'they'?" Calhoun asked him.

"All of them," Turbo said. "At first it was just Vanellope and Taffyta, but now they all join in."

"All of who?" Calhoun prodded. "You mean all of the racers here in Sugar Rush?"

Turbo nodded. His eyes looked faraway and haunted.

Calhoun took a breath. "Look, I'll just cut to the chase, here. I'm giving you two options. You can either stay here and they can keep…doing what they do to you, or I can smuggle you outta here and lock you up in my game's prison."

"How much"—he cleared his throat—"physical pain is involved in your prison, sister?"

"None, unless you give us reason to," she said. Her words were harsh, but the way she said them was almost kind. It seemed to put Turbo at ease.

"I think I'll take a chance and go with you," he said with a faint smirk. "Can't be any worse than this place. Trust me."

"Hang on," Calhoun said. "There's one more condition."

"Yeah?"

"I want to know what's going wrong in this game," she said, "and if I need your help to do that—coding experience, whatever—you'll agree to help me or any of my soldiers."

Turbo didn't even have to think about it. "Fine."

Calhoun stuck out her hand. "Then we shake on it. You break your promise, I'll haul you right back down here, got it?"

He took her hand and shook it limply. "Got it."

"Good." Calhoun stood up and walked over to her rucksack. She unzipped an empty front compartment.

"Climb in."

Author's Note: Chapter 2 is finally through! I'm so glad I've got it finished. Hopefully it wasn't too bad, for those of you who don't like yucky stuff too much.