…
The whole arcade's bad guy
…
Somewhere in the darkness, someone was whimpering…
Turbo's eyelids fluttered, his head pulsing nauseatingly as he returned to reality from another distorted nightmare of his past. This had been happening to him all night, his restless dreams causing him to sleep and wake in a stop-start cycle that probably added to his exhaustion more than anything, making him feel more dizzy and sick and miserable than he had before. The only thing that enabled him to nod off each time he broke the surface of a nightmare was Vanellope's warm, reassuring bulk curled up beside him. But now, as he shifted among the tangled and knotted mess that his blankets had become, he could no longer feel her there.
The whimpering continued, and it was several long moments before he realized that the sound wasn't coming from one of his dreams. He sat up as best he could, ignoring how heavy and wobbly his head had become, and cracked open his eyes blearily.
Vanellope lay sprawled out near the foot of the bed in a twisted cocoon of sheets, thrashing and squirming in her sleep, eyelids twitching erratically as she reacted to whatever images her subconscious had produced. She emitted helpless little whimpers and half-sobs as her tiny hands grasped at nothing. "No...Turbo...no, leave 'im alone..." she mumbled.
Turbo rubbed his eyes and instinctively reached out a hand to comfort her, but then he stopped up short as he comprehended her words, a glitch rippling through him. She was having a nightmare...about him? And by the sound of it, it was about him causing harm to someone else...
Then she jolted again, and her head flopped towards him so that he could see the tears dripping from her scrunched-shut eyes. "Leave Turbo alone!" she sobbed, closer to being awake than she had been before, but still far from lucid.
Turbo inhaled a jittery breath, and he scooped the little girl into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin as he squeezed her like a plush doll. He nestled the lower half of his face into her hair, breathing in her calming sweet-vanilla aroma and willing himself to be strong for her sake. Gradually, Vanellope quieted as she awakened to find herself in his arms, and she wriggled around in the embrace so that she was able to loop her arms over him.
"He was trying to kill you..." she whispered, her head cradled between his shoulder and neck.
He swallowed. "Who was?"
"Your old c-coding..."
She sobbed again, the sound now muffled since her face was pressed against him, and he felt a slight glitch wrack his chest in reaction to his fear and guilt. He held her tighter, unsure of what else he could do. "Are...are you scared of him?"
"Your old coding?" Her hazel eyes blinked up at him owlishly. "T...terrified."
"I-it's okay...I'm scared of him too." He pressed his lips together; that was the understatement of the past thirty years.
"But I'm not scared of you," declared Vanellope firmly, and as if to prove her point, she snuggled even further into him. "Pajama Boy," she added cheekily, and he could hear the snide smile ever so faintly trying to come through her voice.
No, but maybe you should be.
Turbo might have been no longer sharing a brain or a personality with the malware-ridden previous version of himself, but they were still trapped in the same body together, and the other entity in his mind clearly wanted him out of the way. Somehow he suspected that his tiny, weak, glitchy character model was not the malware's first choice of a home, but if it had really been trapped for the past month, then it was probably getting desperate. It would likely inhabit any physical form it could find, no matter how undesirable. And while he hadn't heard so much as a peep out of it since the struggle on the bridge, he knew that it would come back eventually, and perhaps next time it wouldn't be halted by his glitching so easily.
What would happen if Vanellope was around when it returned?
"I'll keep you safe, glitter-graphics," he murmured, allowing one hand to roam over her back and rub gentle circles between her shoulder blades, and she emitted a soft sigh of bliss. "I can't let him...it...try to hurt you again. I have to get rid of it somehow..."
She stiffened. "Doing that could risk killing you if we mess with your code again!"
He drew in a deep, steady breath. "I'd rather die than let him get to you," he stated, and he was surprised by the solid ring of truth in his own words. There was no way that he was going to cause any more harm to her than he already had. She was his best friend now, and if sacrificing himself became the only way to ensure her protection...then so be it.
"No. You're not leaving me." Her petite fingers clutched the front of his jumpsuit. "For now, l-let's just go back to sleep, okay?"
"I should really bring you back to your bedroom..." he realized aloud.
In response, she tightened her grip on him so much that it hurt, which said the message loud and clear.
Turbo sighed, secretly relieved that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of the night alone, and lowered himself back down to the mattress without letting go of her. She shifted herself so that her head was resting atop his chest, using him as a makeshift pillow, while one hand still clung to the fabric of his shirt. The fingers of the other hand curled inward as she guided her thumb to her mouth. That coupled with her droopy eyelids meant that she looked like a sleepy little girl instead of one who had been thoroughly traumatized, and he felt a bit calmer. Intentionally or otherwise, somehow Vanellope always managed to pry a smile out of him.
The gentle, continuous sound of her breathing and the warmth of her body resting against him gradually overpowered his fears of whatever nightmares were awaiting him. He drifted off, still holding her like a teddy bear, his eyes dry for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
…
Turbo must have fallen into a much deeper sleep after that, because he didn't remember having any more dreams until the morning. In fact, even his typical tossing and turning and sleep-muttering seemed to have been quelled by his exhaustion, and he was more or less dead to the world until his sensitive ears pricked at the sound of his bedroom door opening.
A barely audible moan passed between his lips. He was just so tired, and his normally light, slender body felt as if it had been filled with cement. He wanted to roll over and go back to sleep for the next year or three, but now footsteps were moving into his room, and Felix's voice was speaking with quiet insistence. "Vanellope? Vanelley, sweetie, it's time to get up now..."
Felix must have started to nudge Vanellope, and since she was still cuddled against Turbo's chest, the racer felt slight tremors conducted into him. Vanellope groaned and smothered her face in his jumpsuit. "She's not here right now. Please leave a message after the beep," she mumbled.
"Sorry, Vanelley, but you have to wake up." Felix actually did sound genuinely apologetic, as if it pained his heart to disturb the two sleeping children. He had seen just how draining Turbo's night had been, of course, and it didn't take much deduction to assume that Vanellope had had an equally distressing time of it. "Since the Random Roster Race never happened, yesterday's avatars are doing a repeat run today. Come on, it's time to get up..."
Turbo still was still fairly certain that he lacked the capacity to move, but his eyelids flickered open haltingly. As his vision cleared, he managed to pick out Felix leaning over him and lightly prodding Vanellope, who was yawning as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Felix raised a hand to his mouth when he saw that she wasn't the only one beginning to wake up. "Oh, Turbo, I'm so sorry! You can go back to sleep, kiddo. I didn't mean to wake you..."
A large part of Turbo wholeheartedly accepted this proposition and was entirely prepared to knock him out again, and yet he still found that a spark of panic had been ignited in his chest at the thought of Vanellope leaving. "Vanny?" he croaked, his voice still rough around the edges, as if eroded by last night's tears.
Vanellope froze, the sight of his pathetic state waking her faster than a slap to the face. "Easy, 'Bo," the told him, entwining her fingers around his. Then she glanced back at Felix uncertainly. "Felix, is there...do you think that someone else could take my place on the roster today? I don't wanna race..."
Felix placed his hands on his hips, arching his eyebrows incredulously. "Excuse me?! Since when do you not want to race, missy?"
"I have to stay here with Turbo," she answered gravely. "He needs me."
Turbo opened his eyes a little more, feeling a conflicted pang strike his chest. As much as he wanted her to stay with him, he couldn't allow his selfishness to prevent her from living the life she was meant to lead...he had let that go on for fifteen years, after all. "I-I'm okay, Vanellope," he managed to get out, propping himself up on his elbows with some difficulty. "You can go ahead."
She puckered her lips at him uncertainly. "Are you sure? I mean, I understand if you want me to stay with you..."
He was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was the one who wanted to stay, but he instead chose to answer with, "It's fine. After all, you have a duty to your subjects, president fancy-pants." Normally his usage of the d-word would have warranted at least a giggle, but this time, it didn't even bring a twitch of a smile to her face.
"I have a duty as your friend...and family too," she responded firmly. "I don't think you should be here alone."
"He won't be here alone, Vanelley." Felix was nibbling at his lower lip now. "Ralph will be here, as well."
Turbo tensed involuntarily at the sound of the wrecker's name. Just him and Ralph by themselves in the castle all day; what a laugh riot that would be. Still, he could weather that if it meant that Vanellope would be able to go out and race, and maybe even forget about the entire situation for a little while. After everything that had happened yesterday, she deserved a break.
Vanellope still didn't appear to be convinced. "What're you gonna do all day while I'm gone?" she asked.
"Go back to sleep." Turbo cracked a smile and allowed his head to loll back onto the pillow, his overworked body demanding a few more hours to recharge and recuperate. "Look, glitter-graphics, you don't have to stay here if you don't want to. Go out and race with your friends. I'll be fine, I'm not goin' anywhere."
"Well...okay, if you're sure." She brushed a few straggly bangs out of her eyes and leaned forward to press a small kiss against his nose. He blinked at the gesture; now, he knew that no one had ever done that to him before. "Sweet dreams, Pajama Boy. I'll be home soon, and maybe you can come meet me at the Random Roster Race if you're feeling better later!"
"Maybe," he agreed, allowing his eyes to slip shut so that he wouldn't have to see her physically leave the room. He might lose his nerve and start begging her not to go if he thought about it much longer. And personally, he was certain that the only way he'd be having sweet dreams was if he didn't have any dreams at all...
…
Turbo jolted into awareness five seconds later, or so it seemed to him. Now Felix and Vanellope were long gone, and from beyond the licorice curtains of his bedroom window, he detected the sounds of go-karts traversing the landscape to the tune of Sugar Rush's signature J-Pop theme song. He sat up slowly, drawing his sleeve across his eyes. Honestly, he was sort of surprised that he'd actually fallen asleep again. The stomach-twisting dizziness that had assailed him a few minutes (a few hours?) ago had receded, but now that he was able to think more coherently, he found himself in a state of profound confusion. After everything that had happened to him last night, he had no idea what to do with himself.
There would be no more glitch lessons now, and no more hopes of becoming a racer in this game. After all, who in their right mind would be willing to race with the evil monarch who had reprogrammed their lives for fifteen years? He supposed that from now on, now that he knew the truth, he would basically be a bystander, living here without interacting with anyone besides Vanellope and the three adults who had reformatted him, forced to watch from afar that fun that everyone else was having. The concept made his stomach sink, but he knew that he had no right to complain. He didn't even deserve to have the hospitality that he'd been shown here, and everybody knew it.
It was just that...he'd so looked forward to being a real racer again...
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, exhaling in a long whoosh of air. Surprisingly, even all of this negative thinking wasn't bringing even the threat of tears to his eyes, and an odd, hollow serenity had settled over his heart. Of course, after last night, he was probably going to lack the capacity to cry for a while.
Turbo wrapped his arms around himself and stood up, deliberately making his way through the castle corridors. The place was deserted, as it always was during the day. It was bizarre to think that at this time yesterday, he had been practically bouncing off the walls with the anticipation of joining his first Random Roster Race, blissfully unaware of the fateful code recognition that would assail him when he tossed his coin into the winner's cup. Hard to believe that things could change so quickly.
Eventually, he made his way into the throne room, where he leaned over one of the area's many balconies and rested his chin in his crossed arms. The view was spectacular, and he could pick out the individual Sugar Rush avatars from his perch, like mobile multicolored sprinkles atop a vast and detailed birthday cake.
That could have been me, he thought drearily. I could have been out there racing today. I wonder if the gamers would have liked me...He tried to assure himself that it probably would have been a waste of time anyway. After all, who would have wanted to play with a ghost boy?
He didn't even notice the thudding footsteps coming up behind him until the person responsible for the sound cleared their throat.
"Hey, kid," said Ralph.
Turbo's eyes widened momentarily, then immediately narrowed and darkened. He pointedly tilted his head away, refusing to look the villain in the face; there was no way that he was going to say a word to Ralph right now.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ralph sigh and rub the back of his neck with one gargantuan hand, face downcast. "I wanted to apologize for last night," he started.
Two responses occurred to Turbo immediately: apology not accepted and apologize for what? After all, it wasn't as if Ralph had actually said anything untrue, or made any false accusations. Instead, the estranged racer replied with, "Who put you up to this? Felix or Vanellope?"
"Both of them," Ralph admitted. "Well, Felix wanted me to apologize, and Vanellope just asked me to be nicer to you, since she doesn't know about what happened. But I would have done it on my own anyway, kid. I didn't...I wasn't trying to make you...you know, cry like that..."
Turbo bristled and spun on his heels to face the wrecker. Of course, the sight of a three-foot-tall glitchy weakling facing down an ape like Ralph was probably more comical than confrontational, but Turbo was not joking around. "You think I didn't already know that it was my fault?" he demanded coldly. "You think that I needed you to tell me that?!"
"No," answered Ralph quietly. "Look, I'm not gonna sit here and try to justify what I said. Last night was stressful for all of us. I lost my temper, and I shouldn't have. I should never have said those things to you after everything you'd been through yesterday, and I'm sorry."
Turbo, his fists tight, pushed past Ralph and began to stomp away, unsure if he wanted to hear this right now.
"Consider this, though," Ralph called after him. "You heard my story. You're not the only one who's ever game-jumped for a petty reason, is what I'm saying. The only difference between you and me is the almost stuff. I almost got my game unplugged, and I almost screwed everything up. If the almost hadn't been there, then I guess I could have just as easily gotten overridden by malware, like you did."
"The almost makes the difference between the good guy and the bad guy," muttered Turbo testily. "And I'm a bad guy now. Like, the whole arcade's bad guy. And I know that I deserve it and there's nothing I could ever do to make it up. Consider that."
Ralph softened by almost imperceptible degrees. "I'll tell you what, kid. You were asleep for a long time, and the arcade's going to close in, like, an hour or so. Go get washed up and get yourself something to eat, and then we'll go ahead to the Random Roster Race. We can work this out somehow. Besides, Vanellope'll be heartbroken if she doesn't see you there."
Turbo shut his eyes, steadying himself, and nodded. Nice mindless, menial tasks like getting ready and eating breakfast...he could handle that. A thought occurred to him, and he decided to voice it, figuring that Ralph owed him at least one request.
"Do you mind if I drive to the Royal Raceway?"
For probably the first time ever, Ralph offered Turbo a very slight smile. "That can be arranged."
…
When he was behind the wheel of his new sugary T car, the one that he and Vanellope had so painstakingly constructed in the expectation that he'd be competing in some actual races, Turbo felt a little more calm and grounded. This was where he had been designed to be, after all, with a pair of goggles strapped over his face and his foot on the gas. He tore down the roads at top speed, as if he could wash away the reality of who he was with a good adrenaline rush. But when he arrived at the Royal Raceway and saw all of the other children setting up their confectionary vehicles, waiting in line to pay their entry fees, and generally socializing and hobnobbing with one another, he found himself beginning to falter again.
He sat in the Assorted Fans section next to Ralph tensely, keeping his limbs all bunched together as if he were trying to collapse in on himself. At this point, it really didn't matter if anybody recognized him or not, but he preferred to keep the number of horrified looks aimed at him to a minimum. He was so preoccupied with warily sweeping his eyes through the crowd of spectators that he hardly paid any attention to the race. He saw that Vanellope didn't win this one either, though. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was distracted.
All in all, he was beginning to think that he might actually manage to escape without causing a scene, and Ralph seemed to be relaxing a touch as well. They were waiting for Vanellope to come to the stands and meet them (the poor girl was getting hounded by many of the other racers, and Turbo could guess what they were questioning her about) when Taffyta Muttonfudge, Rancis Fluggerbutter, and Candlehead strode up to them purposefully.
Taffyta, who seemed to be the leader of the trio, pulled the ever-present strawberry lollipop out of her mouth. It took Turbo several long seconds to come to the uncomfortable realization that they were staring right at him.
"So...you're Turbo," remarked Taffyta dryly, her mascara-heavy eyelashes lowering over her eyes.
Turbo's breath hitched, and every muscle in his body immediately clenched. "What do you want?" he asked, and it was a strain to keep the quiver out of his voice.
Rancis crossed his arms. "Is it true that you don't remember anything from when you were King Candy?"
"Do you think I would still be here if I did remember?" Turbo frowned, and static rippled across his torso in a splash of red. He wouldn't have taken notice of such a minor disturbance, but all three of the children gasped, as if he were some sort of freak show attraction.
"You're a glitch?" asked Taffyta incredulously.
"I..." Another strand of 1s and 0s flashed across his face, answering her query before he could formulate anything to say.
Candlehead pointed at him emphatically, squealing, "He is a glitch!" Turbo had no idea why they were making such a big to-do of it. He had gotten more than used to his glitching by now and no longer saw it as anything to make a fuss about, and besides, these three had always lived alongside Vanellope, and she'd been a glitch for longer than him! Unless they found this remarkable because...
Oh...
His worst fears were confirmed when Taffyta declared, "Well, it serves him right, if you ask me!" She twirled her lollipop between her fingers. "After he took over our game and duped all of us for so long, he deserves to be a glitch!"
Turbo felt himself freeze, his code sputtering as it often did when he was under pressure. He was hardly aware of Ralph sending a sharp glance in Taffyta's direction. But the girl didn't notice, because at that moment, her attention was drawn to another voice interrupting, "Don't call him a glitch, you guys. He's just got a little pixlexia."
The trio parted and allowed Vanellope to stride through, their eyes wide and shameful as they figured out that they'd done something to upset the president. Vanellope's shoulders were a little droopier than usual, and there was a frazzled, distant expression lurking behind her puckered frown, informing Turbo that she hadn't completely recovered from their hard night together. But she still had enough spunk left in her to shoo her three friends away before scampering through the bleachers and flinging her arms around him.
He returned the hug tightly, willing himself not to cling too much. He couldn't believe how much he'd missed her even when they'd only been parted for a few hours. The thought of facing anything without her, even what should have been a normal boring day, didn't sit well in his still-vulnerable mind.
"Heya, Vanny," he murmured, shutting his eyes contentedly. "How's it going?"
"Pretty okay, 'Bo." She smiled up at him, looking indescribably relieved that he was there for her to clutch to again. "I missed you."
"I missed you too."
"Don't mind what those guys said, okay?" She glanced over her shoulder, watching Taffyta, Rancis, and Candlehead rejoin the other racers. "They're a little nervous. Everybody is."
Turbo shrugged. "I don't care if they call me a glitch," he responded honestly. "It's what I am, and there are a lot worse things to be. Like a former evil dictator who can't even remember everything he did wrong..."
"That's all over now, Turbo." She sighed. "You're not who you were. You're not King Candy anymore."
"Maybe not, but..." His gaze wandered anxiously across the crowded raceway, including Ralph, who was watching the two of them with his face masked by an unreadable blend of emotions. "Look, do you think that we could talk about this somewhere else? I get the feeling that I'm not wanted here, anyway."
She nodded understandingly and scampered over to Ralph. "Hey, Stinkbrain, can me and Turbo take a walk? We'll just circle the raceway. It'll take like ten minutes."
Ralph's eyebrows crinkled with concern. "Well...I'm supposed to be watching you two, but...eh, I guess a ten-minute walk couldn't hurt. But only ten minutes, you understand? Otherwise, I'm gonna have to assume that you're getting chased by a Cy-Bug and come after you."
"There aren't any Cy-Bugs here anymore," she scoffed, grabbing Turbo's sleeve. "Come on, Pajama Boy, let's go. We'll be right back, Ralphie!"
"Ten minutes!" repeated Ralph sternly as he watched them dart off.
Vanellope headed for the grove of swizzle stick trees that bordered the Royal Raceway on one side, tugging Turbo along behind her like a dog on a leash. He found himself jogging to keep up with her, hampered by his lethargic and listless body. "Slow down, glitter-graphics!" he panted.
"No, you speed up!" she retorted, but she dug her heels into the ground to bring herself to a halt. "Are you sure you're okay? Even you aren't normally this slow."
"I'm as okay as I can be. I'm just...I'm not all there yet, I guess." He sighed and brought a hand up to his forehead. "This has been a lot to take in."
"Yeah, and I bet Taffyta getting all pretty-pink-pony-princess on you wasn't helping, either." She rolled her eyes. "Callin' you a glitch like it was a bad thing. Well, you'll show her when you get on the track and whoop her hiney, am I right?"
He stopped up short, blinking. "What? Vanny, you know I can't race now!"
"Hey, that's quitter talk!" she scolded. "I didn't give you glitch training for a month just to see you throw it all away like this, ya know!"
"But if I even try to enter the Random Roster Race, it will put...his name up on the board!" Turbo shuddered to himself. "And that's the last thing we want to happen."
"We'll figure something out," she promised, making a visible effort not to let her confidence falter. "You'll race again, I just know it. After all, we can't keep the greatest racer ever away from the competition for long, can we?"
He dredged up a smile, recalling the days when he had declared himself the very best of the best without the barest inkling of doubt in his mind. Even after Road Blasters was plugged in, he'd been certain that he was the one who deserved the attention and admiration of the gamers, no matter how much of a ghost boy he appeared to be on the outside. But ever since his reset, his life had been so much more tentative and unsure.
"For now, you just need to lighten up," Vanellope continued. "You know, do something to take your mind off things. So think fast, Pajama Boy!"
"Wha – "
Before he had a chance to react, she had tackled him to the ground, cackling delightedly. "Hey!" he cried out, squirming beneath her. "C'mon, I'm not really in the mood for this right now!"
"That's just too bad, Pajama Boy," she told him in a mockingly sad tone of voice. "Hmm...you know, I haven't actually seen you take off your helmet ever...you even sleep with it on!"
His yellow eyes became round and mortified. "...m-my helmet?"
"Yeah, what are you hiding under there?"
"Uh, nothing – !" He started to thrash against her more insistently, hoping to break free, but apparently he wasn't even strong enough to free himself from the clutches of a tiny-nine-year old girl.
She kept him pinned effortlessly, smirking. "Nothing? We'll just see about that!" With one swift movement, she reached down and pried the helmet from his head, and...
"...pffffftahahahahaha!" Vanellope fell back laughing, enabling him to sit up with a sour scowl on his face. "I guess you were telling the truth, Turbo! There really is nothing under there! Ahahahaha!"
Turbo rolled his eyes, lifting a head to his barren scalp. He always felt incomplete without his helmet, especially since his developers hadn't bothered to give him any hair. "Yeah, yeah."
"I guess I got a new name for ya now! Baldy!"
"Yeah, never heard that one before – "
"I mean, you're fifteen and bald, that's just...hahahaha!"
"I get it, glitter-graphics! It's not that funny!"
"Do I get to make a wish if I rub your head?" She ran her hands all over his scalp experimentally, then planted a sloppy kiss right at the very top of his forehead. "Mwah!"
He groaned. "Okay, okay, okay! Now gimme back my helmet!" He bucked her off with a gentle, playful shove, then retrieved his helmet from where she had left it, securing it firmly over his head. She was still giggling audibly behind him, and he had to admit that he was beginning to feel better now.
"Aww, having fun, Turbo?"
Turbo gasped, the half-smirk instantly vanishing from his face when he heard the malicious voice speak. "Oh, no! Not again!" he choked out.
Vanellope tilted her head. "Uh, 'Bo, is something wrong?"
He had already doubled over, clutching his head as the entity entrapped within began to mince words with him. "How nice it is to find you here playing with your little glitch friend! But you didn't forget about ME, did you? I told you that I'd always be here, and I meant it..."
His head was pounding torturously, and trembles and glitches broke out all along his body. "Go away!" he shouted, oblivious to Vanellope's jaw dropping open behind him. "Go away go away go AWAY!"
"Didn't you think that maybe I might like to play, too?" the voice pressed. "Especially with little Vanellope, hoo-hoo-hoo! She and I didn't get to finish our conversation yesterday, thanks to you so rudely interrupting us..."
"NO! Don't hurt her! DON'T HURT HER!" howled Turbo desperately, his hands clamped over his ears. He had no idea if Vanellope understood that she was witnessing the same phenomenon that had overtaken him yesterday or not, but he hoped that she was smart enough to start running. He was straining to prevent the rogue entity from seizing control of his body again.
"But maybe I've overstayed my welcome, hmm? Maybe you would prefer it if I moved on to another host, or better yet, got myself my own home? That way you wouldn't have to share your toys anymore. Would you like that?"
"Just get out!" he wailed, sick of the tormenting, sick of the teasing. His knees were quaking violently beneath him. "Get out of my head, you MONSTER!"
"Oh...gladly."
And then the real pain began.
Turbo screamed, a pure animal sound of desperation and agony, and collapsed to the hard fudge ground. He was no longer glitching; now he had almost entirely dissolved into static, until he was a rough humanoid-shaped approximation of a person constructed from mangled code, still screaming at the top of his lungs. Whatever was happening, whatever attack the malware version of him had launched, it was beyond excruciating. Sharp claws raked and stabbed at his very programming, and he writhed and jolted in the onslaught, unable to tear free. He thought that King Candy's cruel laughter might have been echoing throughout his brain, but he could hardly hear anything over the roar of raging malfunctions in his ears and his own distorted cries of, "NOOOOOO! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE, IT'S HURTING ME! MAKE IT STOOOOOOP...!"
There was a final, terrible wrench, as if something were ripping itself out of his coding; then...
…it was over.
And Vanellope was shrieking in horror.
The pain became a throbbing soreness all over his body, and Turbo's screams were diluted into whimpers. He had landed facedown, in a tangled heap of glitching arms and legs, his face dampened by tears of exertion and agony. His eyes had fallen shut, and he found that he couldn't open them, couldn't move at all. It hurt too much, and in addition to that, he was so, so tired...
"V...Va..." He made the immense effort to lift his head, needing to call out for Vanellope, to tell her that he couldn't move and that she had to go find help. She hadn't stopped shrieking, and the piercing noise only added to his headache and hindered him further. Why was she still doing that? Couldn't she see that he wasn't under attack anymore? He opened his eyes as his neck slowly, shakily swiveled upwards...
...and found himself staring at the sadistically huge smile of King Candy.