Well, finally I got this chapter finished, just in time for finals week, too.

Now, I'd like to ask you, the reader, something: I'd like to get a list of some arcade titles. I may or may not insert the cameo of the game(s) you list, but I'd like to have a few names on hand as I am not that well-educated on arcade games and just know there are quite a lot out there. I can't Google/research on what I don't know of.

Chapter Five: Another Day

"Good morning, Mr. Fix-It."

Felix tipped his cap at Gene when the trolley pulled in. "G'morning to you, Mayor." Stretching his arms above his head, he jumped out onto the platform, and pulled out his golden hammer to twirl it in his hand. "Ready for today, sir?"

"Oh, I'm always ready." The Nicelander chuckled a little before his face fell back to his default frown. "Ralph, on the other hand, hasn't come out of his house yet. Doesn't he have an alarm clock?"

The hero grinned a little from the memories. "He's... picky about clocks. I don't mind waking him, I can get a small conversation from him that way."

The mayor wrinkled his nose with a small "hmph", fiddling with his tweed jacket as he turned to walk toward the penthouse. "Ever since the house was built, he's nearly always the last person to punch in."

"He's still getting used to it, Gene. This is his first house."

"It's been a good few months, Fix-It. He should've gotten used to it by now."

Felix rubbed the back of his neck after fixing his collar. "He will, sir. Eventually," he added under his breath.

Gene didn't seem to hear the extra word. The moment they were in view of the brick house, he pointed at the door and continued onward for the Niceland Apartments. The hero waited until after the mayor entered the main building before making his way up to the porch. Even though Felix figured it was easier to tap on his bedroom window to wake him, he was too polite to make it a habit. (And he had that unshakeable feeling Ralph would throw something at him if he ever did try that.) Hopping up the steps and landing on the mat, he wiped his shoes, cleared his throat, and knocked on the door before opening it. He poked his head inside to scan the front room.

"Ralph, you awake?" he called inside, even though he one hundred percent believed the answer was "no". Walking further in, he glimpsed into the kitchen, then headed down the hallway to his room. Pressing his ear to the wood, he knocked twice and entered. As he thought, the man was still asleep with his back to him. Letting out a soft sigh, Felix stepped up to the foot of the bed and raised his hands up to clap them, only to drop them when he caught sight of his troubled face.

Ralph didn't move where he lay propped on his elbow, staring thoughtfully out the window. His eyes were briefly in shadow, making him appear more tired than he most likely was. The hero couldn't bring himself to speak at the moment, his chest tightening in worry. He remained where he was, studying his expression. From outside, he could just hear Q*bert having a conversation with his companions as they walked to the apartment complex.

"Be honest with me, Felix," murmured the villain to break the silence, refusing to look over at him. "Do you feel guilt often?"

Fixing his cap and shifting in place, Felix darted his gaze a little at the window. "Gee... I s'ppose there were at least a few moments."

"Name one."

"Hmm..." He rubbed his chin, leaning against the baseboard. "Well... I remember watching you leave one night after work—"

"Not about me, about you."

"Sorry, Ralph, but it involves you a tiny bit." Felix scrunched his brows together to think a bit more on his words. "Anyway, it was from a long time ago. That one night upon watching you leave the game, I somehow had that feeling that no matter what I would have done for or said to you, we could never be good friends—not right off the bat, anyway. I've always liked working with you, Ralph, I just didn't know how to... you know."

Ralph said nothing about the comment, though he sat up in place, keeping his eyes averted and expelling a quiet huff through his nose. The titular character glanced sideways at him, waiting for a response as he tapped the wood nervously.

"Did it hurt?"

Hesitant wanting to know where this was going, Felix nodded. "I'm sorry—" he started before he was interrupted.

"It's too late to apologize for the past now that you're making up for it."

He chuckled a little, scratching a spot underneath his cap. "Yeah..." Chewing on his lip, he stepped away from the bed, hitching up his tool belt. "Mind if I ask?"

Shrugging, Ralph straightened his boxer shorts when he slipped out of bed, shuffled to the window, and pulled his clothes inside. "I was mostly curious, and a lot of stuff was on my mind."

Felix dropped his gaze to the ground, spotting a small screw by a bed post. Picking it up for a closer look, he believed it to have been from one of his previous alarm clocks. He quickly scanned the floor to see if he could spot more loose parts.

"I'm still not used to my own strength," the villain quietly said. "I almost hurt her."

He stood up straight, mouth slightly dropping open. "Did you get in a fight with Vanellope?"

Ralph glanced over as he was pulling his teal undershirt over his head. "I didn't tell you about the new character, did I?"

"I would've remembered there being an announcement if there was one."

"She's from across the arcade. She had gotten lost, and since then, it looks like she comes down this way to visit."

A small beam spread on his face at what he was hearing. "Ahh, a lady-friend."

"It's not what you're thinking, Felix," he muttered, putting on his plaid shirt and smoothing it out. "Wipe that stupid smirk off before I do."

"Denial is one of the signs, Ralph." Scowling, the man made a threatening advancement toward Felix until he shrunk back a ways, though he still remained smiling. "You're only proving my point further."

"I don't even like her that much," he grunted, turning his back on him to swipe up the overalls. "At least with the kid, she was cunning enough to get me interested in what she wanted before I truly warmed up to her."

Leaning forward, Felix pressured in a teasing manner, "Is that a good thing?"

Struggling to get his feet through the legs, Ralph had to sit on the edge of his bed and unhook the fabric from his toes. "Nothing's ever a good thing with her. I almost broke her shoulders last night because of it."

"Criminy, you're really bad at making first impressions."

"I'm this close to throwing you head-first out my window."

Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, he raised his hands in surrender, firmly spinning himself around on a heel to head out the door. "O-O-Okay then, I take it this conversation's over. I'll see you on the field, Ralph." Glancing over his shoulder to tip his cap, Felix left the room, and was soon out of the house judging from the quiet click of a door.

Shaking his head with a frustrated sigh, Ralph stood to hike up the front and loop the strap over his arm, eyeing where it lay on his shoulder. He remained frozen in place, slowly staring into space when his mind hovered on the event the previous night. It bothered him how the woman could just stand there and pretend he wasn't manhandling her, then go on to say she had "worse". Though it wasn't her words that rubbed him the wrong way, nor her stance.

Deeply inhaling, he ran his hands over his face. "After I talk with Neff, I'm coming straight home," he murmured to himself. "I don't think I can handle her one more day."

Sitting quietly in the entranceway to the kitchen, waiting for the arcade to open, Scrumples read and re-read everything written down in her notepad. Every now and then she'd look down at Cheese, whom was asleep on her lap, reluctant to wake him back up. Counting the number of pages she had used up, she quietly sighed and dropped her arms, resting her head against the entrance frame and staring out the window.

"I wonder how many players we'll have today?" she mused, more to herself than to Cheese. "My guess is it'll be the same number as yesterday's..." She stared at the calendar hanging in front of her, tracing back to the day she was plugged in the start of the month. By each date, there was a number written in red ink, which according to the word written out in large characters next to the month were the amount of players she had per day.

From what she had down in her notepad, her first day at the arcade was a rather moderate success, at least she thought so. There were a line of players wanting to try their hand, but most of them only stayed—mostly due to the lines. It was enough to exceed over the quota Scrumples believed was the average in general, but it seemed she had been steadily losing players. The thought worried her as much as she tried hard not to dwell on it.

Gently scooping up Cheese into a hand and cradling him close to her chest, the woman stood and spun around to the bureau against the adjacent wall in the hallway. Opening the top drawer, she fished out the lone notepad, flipping to the first page. Her expression fell a little as she read over the first paragraph.

"Day one was a big success just like my programmers predicted. My game was the most popular, but I can't remember clearly how many players I had. I just know the players loved the game. The girls who were there kept shouting how cute everything was, the boys more so. I wonder how many more boys there were than girls, there were quite a few."

Flipping through the pages, she noticed it was treated more as a journal than as something to jot down important notes, whether the programmers put it in her or not. Her attitude then, she realized, was much more cheery judging from how the writing was getting more crisp with each character.

"It's the most peculiar thing when you have a lot of players return every few hours to play. Some of them were excellent players, they were always very excited every time they passed a round. Of course, as I can only do ten rounds per gameplay like the programmers wanted, they kept putting in more change with each successful gameplay. Some of them had actually returned a second time and played until they ran out of pocket change. It was a great day, and I hope I have more days like this to come."

Scrumples skimmed from then on, trying to comprehend how she was able to go into detail about what happened each day. She could barely recall what happened last night except for what she did remember to put down into her current notepad. After running into blank pages, the woman went back to the last entry she had written down.

"I hear Cheese and I are being transferred to a new place. No one else in the game corner is going, just us. I find it rather odd, but the other characters congratulated me, and wished me well. From what I could gather, it looks like the cabinet's getting unplugged tonight so it can be taken to the company and get my code tampered with a little. Yeah, just my code. Cheese will be left alone. Supposedly, since my programmer's handling me, everything should still remain the same the next time I get plugged into an outlet, at least that's what everyone told me. I'm not going to know for a while, for I will be in a deep sleep by that time. No matter what happens, though, I believe them. They were nice to me even though I got most of their players. I'm going to miss them."

Scrumples dropped it back into the drawer with a sigh. "I wonder who these characters were." She looked down at Cheese when he rolled over onto his feet. "Guess they were right about everything, Cheese."

He squeaked a little in response, standing on his back paws to sniff at her dress. The woman smiled, and closed the bureau shut in time for an alarm to go off. With a squeak, she hurried into the kitchen, snatching up her toque and setting down her pet when she stood in place. After watching him scurry into the hole, Scrumples looked up to her first player of the day.

"Welcome, customer! Please select your difficulty level, and we will be with you shortly."

Every day, she was eternally grateful for the programmers to have inserted a pre-recorded intro code. Such was such a moment when she noticed her notepad wasn't in her pocket, and had to step out of her place to snatch it from the floor and kick the chair out of sight. Stuffing her hat on her head, she smiled when the button labeled "Normal" was highlighted. After a quick scan of the utensils, chopping board, rice cooker, and mixing bowl laid out on the counter, she glanced over her shoulder to see the ingredients were set in place.

Then she looked at the counter again, straight at the sink before her. "I forgot to wash my hands!" she squealed, reaching out like water would jump into her arms.

In a split-second, Scrumples got into her pose when the menu disappeared: standing at attention staring up at the player, hands pointing outward at her side, and lips curving like a cat's. She bowed at the waist, and a timer and the gauges appeared at the corners. On the bottom of the screen lay the list of ingredients needed for that round—the instructions for cooking them would appear once she got them all. Her first recipe was a blueberry pie; not a bad start, she admitted.

Raising her hands above her, she announced, "Game start!"

Feeling the tug of the control stick, Scrumples moved in time to the player's movements. As the list of ingredients listed themselves off with a small "ping", she snatched the closest one up—the flour—when she passed over, though she had a carrying limit. Once it was tossed into the mixing bowl, Cheese poked his head out of his hole and looked around like he was contemplating coming out. Scrumples always hated whenever the player reached for the broom to shoo him away, so she wasn't looking forward to the moment when the rat would start scurrying about.

Each time the ingredients on the shelves wobbled, depending on if her back wasn't to it, she would get a shocked expression on her face. If the player wasn't quick enough to grab it, which exactly happened that particular moment with the blueberries, the item "vanished" before hitting the floor, and points were lost. As it was on normal setting, the ingredients were endless, and Scrumples moved on like it never happened. For the highest ingredients, the player had to have her use the stepladder and sometimes walk across the shelves to get to them. After swiping Cheese away with the broom, she got the final ingredient, and ready to mix. As part of the program, even after getting everything for the recipe, the ingredients still steadily fell and her pet continued to swipe away food, forcing the player to quickly abandon the mixing to attend to them.

It never took longer than what was needed on the small timer that flickered above her head to use the mixing bowl, rolling pin, or the stove and oven. A good player, she noted, would take a good minute on average to collect everything and put it together for the game's calculations. If the point goal was reached, Scrumples would jump happily in place and pose for victory before moving on to the next round, and another random recipe.

No matter the level difficulty, each new round got faster and more demanding. Usually around the third round would Scrumples start tripping if the player jammed the control stick too hard to the side (though she sometimes tripped on her own merits). Any ingredient she would hold spilled or fell and disappeared. Though the player could get bonus points for speed or impressive skills, she had no invincibility or extra lives programmed into the code. If the player failed to complete a recipe in time, or lost too many ingredients or points, she would fall to her knees in defeat and hang her head to cry as the "game over" ditty played. The pre-recorded intro animation would then start, and Scrumples picked herself up and return to her spot as the game reset itself.

It was rather simple for what it was, but the woman loved every minute of it. What she enjoyed the most were the reactions of the players. Her experiences possibly didn't live up to what other games in the arcade had, but she was happy for such small events. Most of them were stoic, though some showed they were into the game by muttering to themselves or to the game (she couldn't tell). A few smiled and giggled at her actions—they were mainly the young female players. Only once since she was plugged in did a player scowl during gameplay, which had made her nervous and nearly mess up on the controls. If anything interesting happened, Scrumples would record it in her notepad in between work as she hummed along with the game music.

"I can say proudly, Cheese, that we met our quota," she announced to her pet, then looked outside. "It's the afternoon, and there's still plenty of time for new players."

Cheese let out a small squeak, rubbing up against her shoe. Feeling like melting in happiness, the woman scooped him up and placed her cheek lightly on his back. Her blush marks brightened as faint pink lines etched across her face. "Oh-h-h, you're so cute!" she cooed. "I'm gonna take you ho-o-ome—wait."

She hardly thought on what she said before another player started heading for her cabinet. Setting the rat down, she smoothed out her dress and straightened up, wishing her smile would widen as she watched the boy struggle to deposit his two quarters. He looked to be young, as he could hardly be seen, peeking up at the screen and moving about in place. Once the menu started, he took a little bit longer than the previous player to pick the difficulty level, not that she minded. A player was a player no matter their experience. The moment he started pressing buttons and moving the control stick at random intervals, the woman came to the conclusion he was new to the arcade, or to games in general. She stayed to the program even if he kept missing the ingredients, or grabbed one when it fell and didn't know what to do with it. Somehow once, he placed the sugar into the oven, to which she giggled to herself.

...then she suddenly stopped in place.

Though confused, Scrumples continued her static animation of a hop as she watched the player get pulled away by an angry woman whom looked to have appeared out of nowhere. Nervously glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Cheese returned to what he was to do, wincing every time an ingredient fell and disappeared before hitting the floor. The timer casually ticked on by, and the stove started to emit smoke.

"Was I... just abandoned?" she breathed to herself, though also as loud as possible for her pet to hear. He didn't respond back, too busy crawling in-and-out of the holes and carrying away food.

Mercifully, the timer ran out, and the "game over" music played. On cue, she fell to her knees and cried until the opening sequence popped back up and the kitchen was reset. Though the tears dried, the shock still remained. She found no strength at the moment to pull herself up, trying to comprehend what had happened. Cheese scurried over to her, sniffing at her flour-covered hand before looking into her face.

Shakily taking a breath, Scrumples lifted her head to look out into the arcade, blinking rapidly when she spotted the woman talking to whom she was sure was the manager. She couldn't hear her, but judging from how wide and far her mouth opened and kept gesturing to her cabinet, it wasn't a happy conversation. With a gulp, she stood back to her feet, wiping her hands on her apron.

"I wonder what that was for," she mused out-loud.

The alarm interfered with her thoughts as a new player placed in their quarters. Already in position, the woman put a smile on her face, and posed as the intro flashed on the screen.

"Welcome, customer! Please select your difficulty level, and we will be with you shortly."

"Closing time, finish your last game!"

The final player, with a small sigh, allowed Felix to take a blow for a game over before leaving with his remaining quarters. The titular character respawned from his death sequence when the title screen flickered on, and he hopped off-screen to dust himself off. Ralph cracked his knuckles when he flexed his fingers, watching as the last of the children left the arcade. Even after his acceptance of his role, it was still rare of him to remain on the building. As dull as it looked, he liked watching the arcade clear itself out, carrying out the noisy ambiance and allowing the cabinet beeps and music to steadily fill the atmosphere. From across the way, he and Vanellope locked gazes. She mouthed to him:

"Wanna hang out?"

Ralph silently replied back with a slight shake of the head, "Not today."

The girl shrugged in acceptance as the screen returned to the selection menu. When she glanced at the other racers, a sly smile appeared on her face, a sign she came up with an idea. Taffyta noticed her look and she and Vanellope had a quick chat that resulted in her eyes lightening up in excitement. The other racers had heard whatever it was they were discussing, and were getting worked up themselves. Ralph had to smile at the sight.

Then the florescent lights shut off, and the arcade owner left the building, locking the doors behind him. Once he disappeared from sight, he heard Yuni call out from her post, "All clear!"

A murmur spread through the arcade as characters relaxed and stretched. From below, the Nicelanders started to chat amongst themselves, and pat each other on the backs for a job well-done. Felix walked up to the entrance of the penthouse to greet them, then looked up to nod at Ralph. He climbed down the building to his side, extending his hand for a shake, which the hero obliged.

"Good work, brother," he said, tipping his cap. "Glad you got the view this time."

"Ah, that was dumb luck," the villain smirked. "Still, it was an impressive day."

"True, true."

Gene exited through the front doors, and waddled up to Felix first for a handshake. "Great work, men, as always."

"Same to you, sir."

He chuckled a little, cocking a brow. "Well... it's like second nature." Behind his back, Ralph lifted his eyes to the sky. The mayor then turned around before he could take a step toward the dock. He noticed the brief movement. "Are you not staying for the get-together?"

The wrecker shook his head. "Naw, I have an appointment with Neff tonight. But if you want to save a little something, go ahead, I don't know how long it'll last."

"What're you seeing him for?" Felix asked, flinging his hammer in a small circle.

"Have to ask for a request about messing with the code for a day." Ralph gestured with a thumb to the direction of Sugar Rush. "The kid wants to see the game, but it's not a friendly place."

"I'll say," Gene sniffed. "It's full of dead people. Not necessarily social, either."

"House of the Dead is lively, though."

The Nicelander shuddered in place, mustache frizzling a little. "Anyway," he then moved the subject along, "Ralph is not going to be here, and I take it you have plans as well?"

Felix nodded, his eyes showing a hint of day-dreaming even with his answer, "In another hour, Tammy and I will be at Tapper, and just chat up a storm. Nothing fancy today."

The women giggled to themselves. "It's not a very romantic place to be at," Deanna noted matter-of-factly.

"It's good enough for the two of us," he sighed.

Lightly patting Felix on the shoulder, Ralph started backing away. "Well, you two have fun, same with you, guys," he added to the others. "I either may or may not be back by midnight, we shall see." And with a wave, he turned around and lumbered off for the trolley. He looked back once before getting into the cart, then thought about what to say to Neff, mentally kicking himself for not writing it down earlier.

He passed through the station's crowds without issue, and Surge's interrogation wasn't as painful or irritating, even though it knocked his train of thought off-balance for a moment until he was allowed in. He was truly distracted by what awaited him beyond the terminal. Walking into the world of Altered Beast was like walking into a dead world, just as Gene said. It was an odd feeling entering a graveyard, he had to pause to take everything in for the first few moments. The world was silent, but the vegetation gave off a peaceful, welcoming environment. It was a very peculiar sight.

Glancing up at the exterior of the temple he had supposedly exited out from, the wrecker cautiously made his way down the steps and into the graveyard. He was at a loss, not knowing where anyone was, nor where Neff stayed, let alone how to get to him. Keeping his hands at his side, Ralph only ogled the tombstones and the towering bull statues as he weaved through them. Upon casting his eyes about the wall, he spotted a figure cloaked in purple crouching before it, head down and muttering to himself. Glad to have found someone, he hurried over.

"Excuse me!" he called out. "I'm looking for Neff. Can you tell me where he lives?"

The person stood up and turned around, revealing he was headless. Ralph backed away a little until he looked down and found a skull in his hands, though that did nothing to calm his nerves, even when it spoke. "You must be visitor Master talked about," it stated in a crackling voice. "Apologies for not being at entrance. Keep losing my head."

Ralph nervously smiled. "I... see."

The figure gestured with one arm outward. "Follow me. I take you to Master's Palace." A hole opened up in the ground, light spewing from its depths. "It's safe. Safer than Cavern of Souls." And the skull cackled like it told a joke.

The man cringed a little, still keeping his awkward smile without another word. The figure jumped in first, while Ralph carefully slid his body through until the hole started to close. The sudden action startled him enough he lost his grip and dropped into the darkness with a yelp. He fell without a sense of gravity nor time, unable to bring himself to think past his instincts though they failed him. There was the occasional creature he passed by in a flash, but from what he could glimpse, there was nothing friendly about them.

Suddenly it was as though someone grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upward, throwing him onto a marble surface. He lay there staring wide-eyed at the high ceiling to regain his breath and insides. The headless figure leaned into view. "Newcomers always scream. This way." And he left with another laugh.

Slowly but shakily, he got to his feet and lumbered after the guide. The corridor they passed through was dark and eerily silent, setting off an alarm in his head that it wasn't a friendly place. He shouldn't have been too surprised, but he noted Bowser's castle was much more inviting even with the lava theme he had going on. Here, it was empty with exception for busts of Neff every few pillars.

"You very quiet."

Ralph tensed when the guide muttered, skull looking at him with a side-ways glance. "Er... Neff has... great attention to detail," he responded with a nervous chuckle. "Also likes his space."

"Yes. Master built this."

He nodded briefly. "He's got talent."

"Master gives life."

"Good for him."

They walked on in an awkward silence for another minute until the guide stopped before a door. "Master's throne room." And he bowed when he pushed open the creaking door.

With a nod of thanks, Ralph walked inside, finding it was the same interior design with exception of the stone throne erected in the middle of the room. He jumped a little when the door slammed shut, but he took a breath to calm himself down and casually approached the berth. He found it odd Neff was nowhere to be seen except for his personified effigies. He was tempted to call out, and announce his arrival.

Scarcely did he reach the foot of the steps before when another beacon of light ruptured from the seat. Emerging from unseen depths was a disembodied, bald head with a long nose, and sunken eyes. Ralph fought an urge to shrink under the gaze. "Ah, your timing is impeccable!" it boomed as it smiled, teeth green.

His face faltered sheepishly. "Er... Neff?"

"It is I."

He believed the floating head, but another half of him wondered if it was playing tricks on him. "Where's your... rhino-self?" he hesitantly pointed out, then bit his tongue for asking such a ridiculous question.

The head laughed heartily, though the sound of it was somehow amusing. "It is one of my many forms I can cast myself as, though it is one of the five I use in this game. This is my true self." He glanced down. "Well, part of my true self. Excuse me." He lowered out of sight for a moment, then reemerged with the rest of his body, which was thin and cloaked in purple garb. He leaned against the armrest and conjured up a seat beside the throne. "Come rest yourself, and we shall get started. Would you like some refreshments?"

"Oh, no thank you. I don't plan on taking very long." Ralph approached the chair, cautiously sitting down and let out a sigh.

Neff raised a brow, the wrecker noticing it was hairless as well. "Is your schedule tight as well?"

"No, I just didn't want to keep you from... doing whatever you were planning on doing."

"I see." He sat up straighter, but still kept his stance the same. "Well, what is it you wish to do here?"

Pulling his thoughts together, the man laid out his proposal. "I don't exactly know what really goes on during gameplay to begin with, I just know this is not a very outsider-friendly place. I and a few others have learned some time ago how to work with the game's coding where we can tweak a few parts, or rewrite an existing, extra code. That is why Q*bert and his friends live in Fix-It Felix, Jr. now. I'm not asking to completely change the code, or rewrite anything, but I'd like to tweak a few things for one gameplay.

"I was thinking something along the lines of a moving platform in the background, you see. The kid and I will be on this platform and watch the whole thing play out. I don't expect any of the game's enemies to be as far back as we will be, but we would still have immunity in the meantime. We won't change the surrounding environment, and we'll be out of the way. I... don't have the transferring from level to level worked out yet, it was a bit of a surprise coming this... far in—I suppose this is a level—but I like this light you use. So we could travel through that as well at the end of each level. It's nothing too complicated, it's temporary, and won't affect the gameplay."

He held his breath, inwardly taken aback he was able to explain it without stumbling over his words and sounding complicated. Neff looked to be interested, judging from how intently he was focusing on his face, even though his expression hadn't changed from its stone-edge appearance. The prolonged silence, however, was sinking in, making Ralph shift a little in his seat. His thumbs twiddled briefly until he clenched his hands tight when he caught himself.

"Is that all?" the sorcerer noted, still unmoving.

Looking up at the high ceiling for a quick run-through of his thoughts, he nodded. "Yeah... that's all."

Neff sat back into the headrest, rubbing his chin. "Interesting. It is simple, but it is clear to me you thought long and hard about this."

Ralph smiled with a small chuckle, preventing the hand on his knee to reach up and rub his neck.

"Luckily for you and your friend, I as well as the rest of the cast in this game have found no issue with showing off to visitors. As long as you keep your word, of course."

"I most definitely will."

With a toothy smile, Neff reached out a hand. "We have a deal."

He grabbed it happily, and they shook on it. "Thank you so much, Neff. Vanellope will be happy to hear that."

When they withdrew their hands, the sorcerer then folded his arms. "I have of yet to set a date for this occasion, however, but I will accept any request."

"Yeah, I'll have to come back to you on that," he freely admitted. "The kid is president of her game, but she always manages to set aside time for activities for us in between racing and governing. I have no set schedule, so any day works for me."

"As long as you give a twenty-four-hour notice."

"I will."

Neff clasped his hands. "Good... anything else?"

Ralph shook his head. "That was it." He quickly glimpsed about the room. "Nice place, by the way."

"Thank you for your compliment. This palace is one of my finest works." He spread his arms out in a prideful gesture. "I shall offer up a tour, but I shall not show you all of my rooms." His brows raised in a sly demeanor.

"Um... agreed."

"Yes." He chuckled quietly to himself, then his face loosened up a little. "By the way, do you know how to return to the graveyard?"

"Not a clue."

Neff suddenly grinned in satisfaction. "Excellent. Unless you do not mind losing a limb, it is for the best you keep your arms locked at your side, and legs together. Try not to flail around."

He almost didn't understand the message when he did so until a beam of light enveloped him. Right before he was shot upward into nothingness, Ralph scrunched his eyes shut, though it did little with the accelerating sensation. Mercifully, he was quickly expelled outside, but he didn't land on his feet as gracefully. He remained on the ground for a few minutes to catch his breath, silently cursing the game's use of transportation.

A small cackle sounded off to the side, and the guide from before leaned into view. "Thank you for visiting Master. Got what came for?"

Coughing a little, the villain pushed himself up. "Yeah... yeah." Clearing his throat, he looked over to find he was directly in front of the exit, and took a step toward it with a wave. "I will see you around, then."

"Look forward to visitor." And the skull laughed again.

Forcing himself to smile, Ralph hurried over to the carts, trying to push the unnerving feeling from his system. He looked up at the passing lights only to immediately grow ill. "I so am not looking forward to visiting again," he groaned to himself, rubbing his temples. "Now I know why he doesn't get many visitors."

Upon arrival at the station, he cautiously hauled himself out, and approached the gate, glad he didn't have to deal with Surge. Unsure of himself if he would be able to handle the ride back home, he decided to rest at the station, finding a bench for himself to lie down and close his eyes to fight the dizzy spell. He diverted his thoughts away to anything that didn't deal with light and falling.

"Are you getting sick, brother?"

"He ain't sick if he ain't puking. Observe."

Ralph immediately sat up with his hands in the air (fighting back the spurt of nausea from doing so). "I'm up, I'm up!"

Calhoun had a hint of a smirk as she pulled her arm back to rest on her hip. "Such quick reflexes for a big guy. 'Specially one who's 'sick'."

Felix chuckled, nervously scratching his cheek. "That wasn't very nice... obviously." Sucking in a deep breath, he resumed, "You feeling okay, Ralph? Did something happen?"

He half-shrugged, half-cringed. "I... learned Neff is not a true rhino."

The couple gave him an odd look each, having expected an entirely different answer—Calhoun was in the dark as to who he was talking about, but refrained from asking. Ralph added to his comment, "I also think he has a thing for beams of light. That's apparently their use of transportation in Altered Beast, but it's not fun. At all."

"I'll take your word for it," the handyman said, still trying to process what he said.

The wrecker waved it off. "You two finished with Tapper already?"

"We just now met each other on our way over," the woman responded, patting her husband's shoulder. "You feeling up to it tonight?"

"Let's not force him, Tammy," Felix said, curling his fingers over her hand.

Ralph couldn't help smiling at the soft gaze his friend gave his wife, feeling he shouldn't interfere, let alone be in the same vicinity. They were still newlyweds, and it wasn't uncommon for them to make eye-contact with each other in a way that made other people feel like they were intruding. Ralph was rarely ever bothered by it, understanding it was natural, and he was happy for the two. This particular, brief moment wasn't an exception, even if he did avert his eyes for a second.

"Erm... did you need something, ma'am?"

"U-Um... I guess..."

It was as though someone had smacked him across the room when he heard the all-too familiar voice from the side. While he didn't forget about her, he didn't expect her to be at the station this early. Knowing he was going to regret it, the man turned to face Scrumples, whom stood there rather stiffly, chin tucked in, cheeks flushed, and eyes half-closed. When she glanced up at him, she appeared to have lightened up with a small smile, though her stare was still unnerving. He wasn't willing to look at her arms.

"Do you know her, Ralph?" Felix curiously asked.

Straightening up, Ralph gestured to her with a hand. "Felix, Calhoun, this is Scrumples. She's new to the arcade."

"Um... I have a nickname," she whispered out, bowing at the waist. "My nickname's Scrumps."

"Speak up, girlie," the sergeant barked, startling the small group. "Where I come from, there's no room for the introverts and soft-spoken. Speak up, or shut up."

"Tammy!" Felix gasped.

She looked down at him with a raised brow. "I speak nothing but what I know: truth."

"I know that, but she doesn't. Look at her, you frightened her to death." Looking over at her, they could see her eyes became like large plates, tears at the corners as she shivered in place with her knobbed hands under her chin.

Calhoun sniffed, glancing up at Ralph. "You attract the strangest characters."

He scowled a bit at her comment, but held back a retort as he reached out to tap Scrumples on the shoulder—then remembered the bruise when she squeaked in pain. "Ooh... sorry about that," he quickly apologized.

"It's not your fault." Her innocent reply combined with her distressed expression didn't help.

Felix unintentionally rubbed more salt in the wound when he questioned, "What happened to your arms?"

She blinked at him for a moment until she unflinchingly pushed up one of her sleeves to show off the dark bruise. "I ran into the doorway yesterday." Then a slight pause. "Or I burned myself. Though why would I get burned on my shoulders?"

Ralph could see Felix glance over from the corner of his eye. He stammered a little before he gave a proper response. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Scrumples shrugged. "I'm just clumsy is all. I think I smacked my hand against the wall in my sleep last night, I remember hearing something."

"Reflexes in your sleep is nothing to be ashamed of," Calhoun spoke up, despite her facial expression not once changing. "You have to train yourself to control it, but it is useful. I use it all the time." She grinned mischievously at Felix.

"Sounds interesting," the young woman cooed, irises widening slightly.

"Interest will only leave you dead in the end. Survival runs on instinct, that is your gut feeling—"

While the sergeant got into a discussion, Ralph allowed Felix to pull him aside. "Ralph, what really happened to her?"

He was more demanding this time. The villain knew the moment he opened his mouth what his concerns were, and it didn't soften the blow. With a quiet sigh, he confessed, "Scrumples was who I was talking about this morning. Yesterday, she was being an embarrassment, for both her and I. I took her aside, but I wasn't careful handling her."

"Then why is she saying she ran into something? Did you threaten her?"

"You know me, Felix, it's not up my alley. I don't know why she's lying." He looked away from the hard stare he was being given, watching as Scumples grew more engrossed in what Calhoun had to say. He had that unshakeable feeling that if they kept on talking, she was going to grow attached to the woman like she did with Vanellope. "If it's to protect me, she's only making it worse on herself. I want nothing to do with her."

Felix not once turned away, but he remained silent. Ralph felt it was for the best.

Ehh... ending could've been better. It may be added onto later in the future if I can come up with a little something. I'm just glad this chapter's finished.