Chapter Fourteen
Nineteen Years Ago
In the month of March, in 1995, Mr. Litwak purchased Clash of Chaos 2.
His arcade had never stocked the first installment in the series, since it had failed to gain much of an audience upon its initial release. Nevertheless, the game had since built up a strong following, to the point where its developers had been willing to risk their pocketbooks on a sequel. And so, utilizing the latest advances in graphics design, they had created a new adventure for Lady Claudia Hawk. The game was a smash hit, hence Mr. Litwak's acquisition of it.
The villain of the game, Dr. Despair, proved something of a loner. It wasn't that he was unfriendly. As any character who ever conversed with him quickly found out, he was quite genial. It was just that he was intensely private. One could talk to him for hours without learning too much about what was on his mind- unless, of course, he was in the mood to share. And he usually wasn't.
But he was good listener. And with characters as gregarious as the denizens of Street Fighter II in the arcade, it didn't take him long to learn the ins and outs of life at Litwak's.
Nor did it take him long to find out about Turbo.
He'd first heard about the egotistical racer during a visit to Tapper's. Zangief had referenced "Going Turbo" during a heated debate with Mario. Curious, Dr. Despair had wandered over towards their table. It wasn't long before he'd steered the conversation towards the expression and had asked its meaning. Zangief had responded by telling the tale.
"So, you saw this?" Dr. Despair had asked him, when the story was over.
"No," said Zangief. "My game wasn't plugged in at the time. But you can ask Fix-It Felix Jr. He saw it all."
Dr. Despair had done so, and had come away with the same story. He retired to his game wiser than before about the phrase "Going Turbo", but equally curious whether the notorious racer still lived. Everyone else assumed he'd perished in Road Blasters. Turbo's attempted takeover of that game had been the first time any game had been unplugged at Litwak's, and everyone had assumed Turbo, not knowing about what happened when games were unplugged any more than anyone else, had died as a result of his ignorance. Dr. Despair wasn't so sure, however. His game was a sequel where his character had turned out not to be dead after all; he knew a thing or two about unexpected survivals.
But he never expected he'd discover the answer.
It was in the summer of 1997 that Dr. Despair found an intruder trying to access the code chamber of his game.
He'd known about the code chamber for a long while, but he seldom entered it- there had never really been need. But when he spotted a pale white form slipping towards the hallway within his tower that led to the chamber's door, he knew it was time again. So he followed the figure, until he saw it attempting to open the door.
"Good evening, Turbo," he said, his voice calm and collected.
The racer started and turned his head, revealing an ash-grey face with yellow eyes.
"Blatht!" Turbo exclaimed. "I'm too uthed to being unfound."
"Trying to hack my game?" said Dr. Despair. "I'm not sure I'm inclined to allow you to."
"Mr. Formal, are we?" said Turbo, chuckling. "You learn to talk like that in thom fancy college?"
"I'm a gentleman," said Dr. Despair. "Unlike you. I ought to expose you right now."
"And where would that get you?" Turbo asked, turning around fully.
"It would help this arcade. We've just gotten a new game, and I won't have the racers living in a world where you're still on the loose."
"Racerth?" said Turbo, a curious look on his face.
"Sugar Rush," said Dr. Despair, backing Turbo against the door of the code chamber. He grasped the racer with his mechanical arm and stunned him with an energy blast.
"And I'm not letting you at it. This arcade doesn't need another game-hopping disaster on its hands."
Descending the stairs to the dungeons, he deposited Turbo within a cell.
"I'll be back for you later," he said, "just as soon as I finish with some business."
But when he returned later, the cell door was open and Turbo was gone.
In his hurry to settle with the racer, he'd forgotten to check if his prisoner had been carrying any lock picks or other escape devices.
What a daft mistake he realized. Not one I'll be making again. I can't let my clichéd programming interfere with my intelligence after hours.
He began to walk towards the stairs, but then stopped.
Nobody knows yet that I saw Turbo. He'll be heading for Sugar Rush now. If I try to find him, someone may ask questions…and I'm not going down in history as the one who let Turbo get away. But then again, it would be the right thing to do…But again…
For days, Dr. Despair agonized, before he finally paid a visit to Sugar Rush. He knew the trail must have gone cold; he'd delayed for far too long. Nevertheless, he was determined to try and find out whether Turbo had invaded. But none of the game's denizens ever spoke of any strangers. They were ecstatic about their ruler, however: a tiny, balding man known as King Candy. Before leaving the game, Dr. Despair took the opportunity to be introduced to him.
The little man was a bundle of puns and energy, delightedly speaking of everything about his world and answering questions with pleasure. But not once did he ever mention anything unusual. The trail had indeed gone cold.
Or had it? When he had returned to his own game, Dr. Despair recalled the speech patterns of King Candy.
His lisp he thought to himself. It's more pronounced, it's true, but is it possible-?
He cut off the rest of the thought.
I don't want to know. If he's not there, so much the better. And if he is, at least he's found a place to belong again, where he won't cause any more problems.
Nevertheless, a voice at the back of his mind said: If it is, true, than you could have prevented it by acting sooner.
"If it's true," Dr. Despair said aloud to himself. "I don't know for sure. But one thing I know- if I spot another threat, I won't ever delay that long again."
He would cherish that spoken thought, would nourish it in his mind- and he would make it his creed.