Chapter 16: Team.(mp4)

There was something odd about the narrow highway as the forest landscape began to slowly drift to dessert, transitioning from green to yellows and tans the further we drove. For once, in all my sights to date, there was none quite like the sands, and stones surrounding giant plateaus in the distance, and a silence around us that I had not been able to appreciate in quite some time. It wasn't the deathly silence of the cave, or artificial lights of the facility. It wasn't even the dark nights I spent alone in Turbo's castle, but a new and beautiful silence that brought with it a steady acceptance of what my world could be—what the real would could be like: a blank slate, ready to be written upon.

The rush of afternoon traffic and blinding lights of the city were nowhere to be seen out there. Maybe some people would look to the dessert as if it was a rather barren place, but out here and on the road, it was a means of escape for me. Even the roads were clear as oranges and violets met the sandy landscape between the horizon, and somewhere-out-there.

Everyone had gotten quiet in the truck again. Felix had fallen asleep, his head propped up against Calhoun's side as she drove, and Vanellope had even gone adrift, her stares out the window soon coming to a close as she dreamed. The rest of us remained silent.

While Steven continued to survey the information on the Omni-Tool, only briefly going into discussions of the inner workings of codes and files he found with my brother sitting next to him by my side, did the silence break. This was only momentarily, however, before they disappeared back into their own worlds. I could only imagine what the crew was thinking about. I wondered if their minds were running around as fast as mine was, or if maybe they were simply appreciating the moment for what it was.

I don't think my mind quite knew what to do with that time. On one hand, my mind was buzzing around, and trying to decipher all the events that had happened up until now. Questions like: was there even going to be another Shiva Laser in existence, or what if the fight we left behind was going wrong? And yet, on the other hand of this inner turmoil of mine, I felt like I didn't want to care. I spaced out often during my normal life as well before all this, but I soon found that adapting this routine of muting my brain was starting to become a more casual thing even within my new circumstances. I felt like if I were to just shut down, and let the current take me wherever, It would probably be better that way.

Letting go of the sight of the road and dessert behind and out the window, was like I was leaving memories out of the rearview mirror. I'd recall what was happening to the city, and soon would spread into the world, which was horrible enough, but thinking about Aaron and what had happened was just too painful. Thinking about the Programs—not just the ones that had been at Litwak's—but all Programs I had yet to meet that were somewhere on a computer or console on someone's table, or living room TV set, made me shiver. If Cy-bugs became what they ate, I didn't want to think about what would happen to the Programs living in these worlds. I wasn't just fighting for humanity anymore… I was fighting for Programs and digital space, too. I didn't know how I was going to do it. I just had to put faith in our plan, in my friends, and even in myself.

I could feel every bump in the road, and creak in the vehicle, when I noticed a soft clunk sound begin to escape the engine. It was so subtle that anyone may have not noticed, but I soon would find that Vanellope was beginning to awaken, her eyes blinking at first as if trying to comprehend the sound before she sat up.

"Hey, Sarge, that doesn't sound good," Vanellope gestured. It was then that I noticed Calhoun herself was already looking concerned.

Calhoun, with a fearful scowl having been plastered across her lips for some time replied, "Yeah, you got that right." I found I was now looking at her from the backseat, at least as much as I could. "We've got a gasoline problem… I didn't want to alert anyone, but it looks like this isn't going to be a go-lucky-two-shoes kinda drive like I had thought. That's what you get when you become complacent!"

Vanellope's eyes widened. "Have we gone by any gas stations?" she asked.

"You take me for some kind of dunce?" Calhoun spat in response. "Of course I've been looking out for gas stations! There hasn't been one for miles and miles, and at this rate, if one doesn't show up soon we're up roar-creek!"

"My lady." Felix was waking up now, his voice groggy as he rubbed his eyes as he spoke to his wife. "What's all this cahoots about gas stations?"

I guess Calhoun finally lost it. She was trying not to worry everyone for so long, but the questions that were coming at her must've made her loose her cool. "We're running out of gasoline!" she reiterated.

"There's a station coming up in about 12 miles," Steven said, quickly hearing Calhoun's statement and attempting to look ahead with his Omni-Tool. "How long do we have?"

"Not twelve miles, that's for sure, four-eyes, more like five, tops!" Calhoun couldn't help but become a little bitter. "Not even our ships in my game used gasoline. Sometimes I wonder how on earth humans can do so many things, but their choice in transportation fuel is so pathetic."

"You're telling me," Dannen said, "we've had tons of alternatives ready for a while now, but nobody seems to want to make the leap yet."

"Well, there is no point in a coulda-shoulda-woulda debate here guys; we gotta think of what to do," Vanellope spoke up. She was right though, and even if she was just a child, it seemed she had become the voice of reason in this particular situation. "Steven, what does your glow gadget say about other cars being around here?"

"Well, there is a rest area coming up in about a half a mile, maybe there will be some parked cars with gas there?" Steven suggested. "If there are any cars in the parking lot, we might have to switch vehicles."

"Okay, not to sound like I'm not saying this is a good idea, Steven, but isn't that stealing?" Felix said.

"We're trying to get as far away as possible from those bugs, and to get somewhere as quickly as possible for the world's sake, and you're worried about stealing?" Vanellope responded.

"Maybe Ralph can push us!" Felix tried to suggest. "He told me about the kart incident from before in Sugar Rush, and how you were running away from King Can—"

"Oh yeah, th'sure, bring that up, will you?" Turbo seethed. He had been quiet for so long, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening.

"Ah, shut your trap, Twinkie!" Vanellope yelled.

"My trap?" Turbo huffed. "Look whose flapping th'theirs, brat!"

"Don't you dare talk to Vanellope that way!" Ralph had poked his head through the back window to take up for his friend.

"Like we need your opinion, too, Wreck-It Ridiculou'ths!"

"Oh my God, would ya'll seriously shut the HELL UP!" I yelled then. "I am so sick and tired of all ya'll's shitty ass arguing!" This seemed to get the truck quiet again, although it came with a shock-value to everyone that I had raised my voice, especially in a way like this. Felix seemed to be the most shocked of all as his mouth hung open as he looked at me with his head turned toward me from the front seat. "Our best bet is to make it to that rest-stop Steven suggested. If there's nothing there, then we will simply work from that point forward. If we keep arguing like this literally nothing is going to be accomplished."

"Honestly? Kailey is right," Calhoun stated then. "We can't let our panties get in a wad right now… wasting time is not something we have the privilege of doing. Now let's quit ruffling each other's feathers and focus on the mission."

After that, the car got quiet again. It wouldn't be long until we reached the rest stop.

The rest area had a few cars parked, as anticipated, but like us they were completely out of gas. I could feel everyone's emotions emanate with a mixture of irritation and disappointment, but there was literally nothing else that could be done. Steven was trying to come up with an alternate solution as he scanned the road maps from his Omni-Tool, while the rest of us tried coming up with what ideas we could on our own. Vanellope started kicking small rocks on the concrete, while the rest of us sat back, waiting for someone else to talk first.

"Maybe we should keep driving… we have a few miles left, right?" Felix suggested. "Maybe something will turn up then?"

"And what if that doesn't happen?" Ralph put a hand to the back of his neck, scratching anxiously. "I guess I could push you guys…"

"You won't be able to keep that up for long, will ya, Ralph?" Vanellope grew a bit concerned when she said this. "We're talking like… a long ways to go here."

"That's unreasonable," Calhoun said. "Whether we like it or not, we're going to need another vehicle. There's no way we'd make it in quick enough time without one. Walking will take weeks, months even when the Cy-bugs catch up!"

"We need to split up, guys…" Steven finally spoke up, walking over towards the group with a map that displayed it as a hologram from the Omni-Tool. The road was at a Y-shaped split here, diverging off into two directions. It looked to go for miles, but each way had a few glowing dots, indicating something was there. "Looks like people were leaving their cars behind. By splitting up we can check each car faster. Hopefully one of those will be drivable."

"What if they don't have gas, too?" I asked.

"I said hopefully," Steven reiterated. "We better get started before it starts getting too dark.

A silent agreement came over the group then, and we began to split. Vanellope and Ralph had already started down one road, and that's when Calhoun began to follow. Felix quickly would start after her, leaving Dannen, Steven, Turbo and I.

"Why don't you go after the others, S'th'even, I'm sure they'll need your help," Turbo suggested, but I could see a hint of discomfort slip his gaze.

"We'd be uneven then," Steven responded. "Besides, I'm sure it'll take the four of us less time to go through all the cars."

I saw Dannen glare mildly at Turbo. He could tell the obvious: Turbo wanted to be alone… with me. Not that I particularly blamed him, though. Dannen and Steven were enemies; maybe not as much of enemies as Calhoun, Felix, and especially Ralph and Vanellope, but I was the only one that had been tolerating him.

"Let's just keep moving," Dannen would say, attempting to divert the suggestion. "The sooner we start the sooner we can meet back up with the others."

"Right," Steven agreed. The two started walking towards the other road as indicated on the holographic map. As they made a few paces ahead of me, I started following, Turbo reluctantly coming after. I was beginning to finally admit this entire forcing-the-team-together thing was going to be far harder than I thought. I mean, of course I thought it was going to be a challenge, but Turbo was so stubborn in his previous hatred for the others that even now, trying to work with my brother and Steven, was starting to look like a lost cause. I didn't think he'd try anything smart with us, but still.

"Nope, nothing in this one…" Dannen said, half his body sticking out of the driver's seat area of one of the first cars stranded along the lone highway. "Maybe you guys walk ahead—I'll take the first three here and check. We'll cover more ground."

I was starting to think this was a lost cause, even though logically one of the cars must've had to have what we needed. I was starting to feel like a Debbie Downer.

"Okay, I'll check the ones ahead," I confirmed, then began walking. Steven meanwhile ran across the road and diagonal from us to check out another that had been stranded.

Turbo yet again was being rather quiet. Despite the fact that we all were very much focusing on a task at hand, I couldn't help but contemplate what he must be thinking. Maybe I was a people pleaser, or better yet, a self-declared counselor of the group, but seeing that he so easily got back into a verbal argument with the others in the truck was really striking a negative cord with me. At times he seemed to be beyond reason when it came to all this. I was trying to think of ways to make him relax a bit more and at least help him tolerate being in the group now, so I said the first thing that was on my mind that reminded me of him.

"You like cars, right?" I asked as we walked.

Turbo didn't say anything for a second. It was barely noticeable, but I think he seized up briefly and mildly, as if what I had just said brought on a wave of feelings. However, he blinked nonchalantly, perking himself up then and allowed his hands to take hold of his purple coat on both sides of his chest before he responded, "Yes."

"Well, you don't have to wait for me to order you anything…" I laughed half-heartedly. "You're a part of this team."

"Oh really now, Th'sweettart?" he responded. "It doesn't really look like it much, you know."

"Look, I know what you're going to say…" I began, lifting my hands to my chest to express my feelings on the matter. "We've already had this discussion of the sorts. You hate them, they hate you… okay whatever, and we all know that."

"You hate me too, obviou'th'sly." Turbo's eyes narrowed as he kept up with his King Candy act by acting poised and unfazed by the conversation. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. After all, he had been hiding in this character of his for many years that it could have been second nature to do something like this. I was noticing as he walked that his legs were doing some weird twirl thing as if a small detail in his programming hinted at him being a racer.

"Umm, why would you say that?" I tried playing it cool.

"You're a horrible liar, don't try it." Turbo stopped walking, turning to face me then.

I knew good and well what he was getting at. I wasn't an idiot. Sometimes ignoring things in my head—memories, thoughts and all—was my defense mechanism. If I didn't think about things, then it wasn't real anymore. It was the reason I was so creative; at work, when I was bored, I'd daydream. When I had a lot of college assignments to finish, I'd put it down and write something. It wasn't that I didn't care, but that sometimes things were too painful to remember, or overwhelming to continue.

In this moment, however, those memories were flooding back to me. Specifically about him.

While what he was as a Cy-brid wasn't exactly who was standing in front of me, right then and there, it was a part of him. The monster had his face, and his voice. It joked like him, smiled like him…but yet, it didn't. King Candybug, as I've often began to silently call him at that time, was in all respects a nightmare. He terrified me. Saying otherwise would be like a mouse saying he wasn't scared of a cat.

I recalled briefly, like a back flash, when he had killed Kohut, and then when he had killed that human man. Those that didn't comply with his demands were not worth living in his new world. Whipping his hands of blood was me, yet again, trying to cover up what I feared—I had feared the world, and if I covered it up, it wasn't real anymore.

I closed my eyes, harshly for a moment. I was trying to hide a wave of tears filling up my eyes, but instead of them falling onto my cheeks, they just weld up inside, distorting my vision.

"King Candybug may have done horrible things to me," I said, "but I looked beyond the monster he had become." I paused for a moment, blinking my eyes once, and opened them again to see my world had been made clear. "And I saw…you."

His poised expression broke, turning to something of distraught, shock, or maybe even something else. He wasn't mad or scared, even. It was an expression of disbelief perhaps, of wonderment—bafflement, too.

I didn't know what he was making of my statement, but I turned ahead and started walking without asking further. There was a car a few paces ahead, so I got to work, checking over the dash, and looking for keys if there were any. To my luck, there was a set on the floor board, so I set them in place and attempted to turn the engine on halfway, checking the gasoline gauge. Sadly, it was empty, barely even staying on midway before it coughed up exhaust and died. Slightly irritated, I'd take out the Hero's Duty com-link I had on me, and checked out the area. Steven and Dannen's markers were to our east, obviously moving around from car to car. Ahead of me, there were a few more cars to check, just as Steven's Omni-Tool had foretold.

So I kept looking. I checked each car, checking for keys, and when I found a pair, I'd then refer to the gas gauge. But it was the same results every time. Each car abandoned on the highway was out of gas, or out gas and power. I was starting to revert back to my initial doubtful response, before I figured it couldn't hurt to check the last car.

Turbo had been lagging behind, but I didn't lose sight of him. Knowing that, I began to approach the last vehicle, although as I got closer this one looked a little more decked-out with its paint job than the others I had seen so far. For the most part, it wasn't anything special: it was an older model of a Ford Taurus, white in color, but painted blue and red on the front and back most portion of the car, respectively, with a curving yellow line serving as a clear distinction between the choice of colors. What was most unique about it, though, was a white number 2 painted on the side, and even on the top of the car.

By all means, it looked like a racecar.

"Hmmm, wonder who was a racing enthusiast," I joked out loud. I looked over to Turbo, who was standing a few yards from me, looking at the ground. I raised a brow momentarily, a feeling of concern causing me to pause. However, I also wanted to get this over with, and whether or not this thing also had gas or not, we'd be done.

I opened the door and took a seat at the wheel, though my thoughts on the matter quickly morphed once I saw how the car looked on the inside.

"Wow, this is some fancy Taurus," I spoke out loud. On the outside, this thing just looked like a well-kept older model vehicle, but on the inside it was strangely high-tech. Instead of a key ignition, it had what looked like a thumb-sized A-button that strangely reminded me of one like on the Nintendo 64 controller.

As I contemplated the strangeness of the car, my curiosity got the better of me, and I pressed the button. Suddenly, loud music began to play, and like a lightning bolt, I instantly knew what it was.

"It's a freaking Program racecar!" My eyes felt like they were bulging out I was focusing so hard. The music, the controls, the model and paint job of this racing car… it was none other than Car number 2 from the Nintendo 64's Destruction Derby 64, that yet again, had been at Litwak's prior to all this. As much as a marvel that it was on its own, I was floored by how it was distributed into the real world so flawlessly. Many people would have driven by assuming this thing was just any other car, and yet here it was, a literal and metaphorical diamond in the rough. "Turbo, we got us a new ride!" I exclaimed outwardly, overcome with joy.

Turbo had walked over by that time, and peered into the car. Once he took notice of the layout of the dash, he soon realized I wasn't joking.

"Does th'this car have a racer that goes with it?" Turbo had asked after a moment of contemplation. I could tell he was being cautious in some way. It was like he had driven someone else's kart for so long—Vanellope's original kart— that when this new opportunity arrived to drive another racecar, it must've felt odd.

"No… the game didn't have any racer avatars." I shrugged, and then turned to look at him. "It was a straight player-to-car sort of control programming."

"Well then…" Turbo mused, perking up a bit, "let's take it for a ride."

"It's a stick shift, though; I don't know how to drive it."

"I do." Turbo was beaming now. What I did next may have seemed dangerous, but I soon jumped on another opportunity.

"Do you want to drive?" I asked. My thought process was maybe by helping out Turbo, I could make this team work.

Turbo immediately made eye-contact with me. It was as if what I had just said was something he had wished someone would let him do for a very long time. I'd imagine it was like a chocoholic being deprived of chocolate for months, or a dude-bro being forced to not go to the gym for weeks on end. What metaphor I could really compare it to, though, wasn't nearly as good enough to describe what must have been a deep love and desire to do what Turbo was programmed to be.

He was a racer.

"Yes…" Turbo responded, although attempting to contain himself.

I scooted over to the passenger's side of the vehicle, which allowed Turbo to climb in, and take a seat at the wheel. It was a bit funny watching him get situated, as his short stature barely allowed him to see over the dash. Nonetheless, it looked like he managed to get comfortable before he began shifting the cars gears into drive.

"Okay, so let's drive by and pick up Steven and my brother, then we can head back to meet with the others," I said. I was starting to imagine the relief that the others would feel once they realized this new setback had already been fixed.

"No," Turbo responded.

I felt my heart skip a bit then seem to fall into my stomach. I found that my prior thoughts of heading back were traded for worry. I was starting to actually contemplate whether this was at all a great idea; which it wasn't.

"Don't get any bright ideas," I cautioned. If he was about to try and run away with the car and me in it… well, I could only imagine the worst. Any sort of catharsis I was trying to allow to bring Turbo in could very easily backfire now.

Turbo didn't answer, though. I was prepared fully for him to step on the gas and drive as far away as possible to anywhere and nowhere in particular. What he had planned after that—there was no telling. With the world falling apart there wasn't much I could comprehend beyond that.

However, to my surprise, he did the exact opposite. Instead of sending the car speeding ahead, he turned it around, stomping on the gas. We started gaining speed so fast that passing by my brother and Steven was like watching a flash go by. I couldn't help but hang onto my seat, completely uncomfortable with going this fast, with Turbo at the wheel.

I felt the racecar twist and turn as we navigated the road from whence we came. The desert plateaus, shrubs, and sand hills in the distance that I had seen before passed like a blink of an eye, only now drenched in that deep purple twilight, easing its way into blue that indicated the day was coming to a close. Toward the horizon, what small bits of sunlight appeared created a view almost as of a barrier to the horizon, a halo of the sorts that I imagined surrounded the earth. Briefly in that moment, I felt a sense of ease. I'd look over then, to my left, and watch Turbo drive.

He was smiling. It wasn't a malicious or sarcastic smile like I had often seen him give. It was different… this time I could see what he was doing had no signs of anything other than joy of the moment. Somehow, I had helped bring out the real Turbo.

We had gone about a mile back on the road we had come, when Turbo turned the racecar around quickly, causing the sound of skating and squealing tires to overcome my ears, and the smell of rubber to fill my nostrils. The world in front of me and beyond the windshield spun as my head fell back onto the seat, and before I could realize it, we were speeding back again. Like small dots in the distance, I could see Steven and Dannen down one split in the road, and the others towards the other side. I felt Turbo take my hand, where I held the Hero's Duty com-link, and watched as he pressed the button to hail both parties at once.

"If you fool'th's want, you can hitch a ride with us." He started grinning again, a mixture of his previous giddiness from the drive, with a hint of pride then escaping his expression. "Meet us back at the checkpoint."

After he finished talking, his gaze slipped from the com-link to end the call, toward the road ahead, and then back to me, continuing with his smile.

"Hey, keep your eyes on the road," I commented, diverting my eyes briefly. However, after I had returned them to look at Turbo, he was still looking at me; his head actually full blown turned my direction, further emphasizing that he was not paying any mind to the highway.

"I don't even need to look," Turbo replied, his voice flowing with confidence, and a bit of mischief.

Even as we got closer to the rest stop, I felt like I could put trust in that statement, although I was still hanging onto my seat like I could fly out somehow at any second. Like he had done this millions of times, Turbo shifted the gears, continuing his stare at me, and pressed the breaks. The car drifted then as it became parallel to our destination. We slipped into the parking lot entrance like a glove, and with a sudden and quick heave, we landed perfectly in the empty parking spot.

"No need for applause," Turbo said, turning off the engine then.

I felt like I could have facepalmed myself, but my arms were stuck in a tight strain on the seat on both sides of my body. I didn't want to admit anything, but I was starting to get nauseous.

"What the blazes!?" I heard Calhoun spew from somewhere outside. The others were closing in to the meet up point, but for that brief moment, I found myself smiling back at Turbo then. Maybe this could work after all; maybe all doubts I had been keeping about this team working could finally be relinquished. I wasn't expecting a complete repair of Turbo's relationship with the others, but maybe just enough to help us.

"You did good," I said then. It was the absolute least I could say.

"Steven, what are you doing?" Vanellope asked. Everyone was looking at him as he inspected the Program racecar quite extensively.

"This could work," Steven muttered, seemingly dismissing Vanellope's question for a time before he finally perked up. It was completely dark now, so we could only see the orange glow of his Omni-Tool as he disappeared behind the vehicle, and then finally see his head as he looked at us from over the top of the car. "This thing not only goes fast, but it has some decent durability status," he commented.

"Well duh, it's a Destruction Derby car," I scoffed. I was such a nerd.

"But I can make it better." Steven winked, causing us all to pause to think about his statement.

"Ah, I see," Calhoun said, as her previously crossed arms over her torso relaxed at her sides. "You can possibly change its structure a bit I'm guessing?"

"That's actually a great idea," Ralph chimed in. "I was starting to wonder how I'd even fit on top of the car…"

Vanellope started laughing, slapping her right knee before saying, "Yeah imagine us driving around with Ralph strapped to the top like some heavy duty luggage or something."

"The good news is we won't have to," Steven started to explain, although he smiled from the joke. "I can add some extra codes to its programming via access with the Omni-Tool. Maybe make it a little bigger, with a trunk perhaps to fit Ralph."

"It's like Make a Kart all over again!" Vanellope pointed out excitedly. "Ohhh, give it some shiny new rims—oh no, maybe instead give it a new paint job that says, 'President Von Schweetz and The Saviors!'"

"That sounds like the name of a rock band or something," Ralph chuckled. "You're over your head, kid."

"Maybe so," Vanellope cooed. "What's the point in having a team if we aren't going to come up with a name?"

"We don't have time for that," Calhoun said, rather seriously.

"Yes, maybe not…" I said then. I was starting to realize that as serious of a situation we were in, despite its importance and urgency overall, wasn't particularly good on the psyche. We needed something to hold onto, such as someone may look to a symbol when they feel lost, or a goal. As much as Calhoun projected on how we should continue on without so much as a cry or joke, we weren't soldiers after all like she was. There had to be a sense of hope in what we were doing. "A name sounds good… Steven is going to be busy for a bit modifying the car to get us ready to set out, but while he's doing that why not?"

"The code wouldn't be hard to change for the cars paint," Steven said. "You guys go ahead!"

I could see Vanellope shake with excitement. "The Sugar Gang!" she exclaimed.

"The Bug Wreckers, maybe?" Ralph chimed.

"Soldiers of Vengeance," Calhoun said sternly.

"The Fixer-Uppers!" Felix said.

"The End Gamers…." Dannen suggested with a chuckle.

"Holy shit, that's a good one," I responded, half in a jokingly way, but the other in a serious way.

"I can deal with that," Turbo mused then. The others seemed to pause when he joined the conversation, but while there was a bit of discomfort, it didn't manifest itself amongst them for long.

"The End Gamers it is then," Calhoun agreed. Everyone seemed to nod then. "Those Cy-bugs won't know what happened to them."

Steven had already started changing the car as he sent commands through the Omni-Tool and into its code. The car grew a bit larger, and grew a trunk of the sorts to house Ralph like on a truck. The tires were modified slightly to handle harder terrain if need be, and the number 2 written on the sides and top of the car transformed into the name we had come up with for our group. In all honesty, the car looked rather weird, but it was ours.

"Does it still go fast?" Vanellope asked then, seeing the dynamics of the car change.

"You bet," Steven replied. "Real world logic and physics doesn't seem to mess with a Program's workings. As a matter of fact it'll still do exactly as I told it to do in the code I just gave it."

"Is it still sturdy?" I asked.

"Better than before!" Steven confirmed positively again.

"The night is still young, then." Calhoun seemed to tie up the conversation, walking towards our new vehicle. "We can reach our destination by dawn if we keep driving."

"Calhoun," I spoke up, "you've been at it for a long time. Why don't you let someone else take the wheel?

"You mean you? You haven't slept in quite a while. If I'm not mistaken you Users need to get some shut eye."

"True," I said. I'd take a moment to glance down at Turbo. I could tell immediately that this was going to get some negative feedback, but I had to try. "We have to build each other up now. Give Turbo a try. He was the one that got the car here after all."

I saw Vanellope shift uncomfortably. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not kidding," I replied. "But… if he tries anything messy, you have my permission to beat him up." I shrugged.

"What?!" Turbo's eyes widened as his stance stiffened.

"Oh boy, now I can't wait for you to mess up, Twinkie!" Vanellope pat a fist into her other palm, smiling mischievously.

The others all started climbing into the car then. While the middle-ground conclusion I had come up with maybe wasn't the best, it was the only thing I could think of. Turbo still had to become responsible for his actions, but I also wanted to give him a chance. If he was the racer I knew he was, he'd get us to where we needed to be.

"So how about it?" I said, tilting my head sideways to gesture toward the car. "You driving or what?"

Turbo grabbed hold of his purple coat again, eyeing me up and down, and then cautiously glanced over at the others getting into the car before he responded. "Of cou'th'rse…" he'd say.

This time, I joined Turbo in the front, with Dannen at the window seat next to me. Calhoun, Steven, and Vanellope took the backseat that had been added to the cars coding, and Ralph took the trunk. As the engine turned on, I felt like we were on a metaphorical arrow, being launched by an archer. There had been so many setbacks, and so many struggles. But by being pulled back, we'd soon be launched forward.

"Alright Steven, we know we're heading to Cali, but what's this place called?" I asked as Turbo backed out of the parking lot, and positioned the car forward and towards the road heading west.

"We're going to a place called Flynn's Arcade," Steven responded. "If these old files on the Shiva Laser are to be believed, the original machine will be there."

I nodded, and looked over towards Turbo. The headlights from the front of the racecar were filtering in through the windshield, and the small colorful lights from the dashboard were the only glows of light that brought vision into the car. Through the shadows that covered Turbo's face, I saw his brows were being held into a furrow, his expression straight with determination.

"Ready when you are," I said, attempting to help him along. His eyes shifted my direction for a split second, before he shifted the gears into drive, and we sped off.