Chapter Nine
The Dastardly Deeds of Mr. Ainsworth
Mr. Ainsworth perused the files that had been placed on the table before him one final time. He looked up at Portia. "Let me run through this one more time," he said. "Mr. Litwak's Surge Protector, alias Old Surge. He's got a strong sense of duty, is virtually incorruptible, loves his work, and cares deeply about every character in his care."
"That's him," said Portia. "So tell me: how're you going to get past him?"
"Well," said Mr. Ainsworth, "I've a little…device I've picked up that I think will do the trick. If it works, you'll be sure to hear about it, once I'm back."
"You really should tell me now," said Portia.
"Look hon, do you want my services or not?"
"Of course I want them, but-"
Mr. Ainsworth held up a hand, cutting her off. "Then you let me do my job my own way," he said. "I reckon the results will please you."
He watched as Portia gritted her teeth in fury. She kept silent, however, instead giving a curt nod.
"Right then," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I suppose I'll be off. I'll report back when I have results."
"And I'll await them eagerly," said Portia. "Good luck. And remember- don't kill the game's characters. I want to see how they react to being homeless."
"Got it," said Mr. Ainsworth.
Mr. Ainsworth crept through the power lines of Wilberforce, Kansas, smiling as he pictured the suffering that would result from a game getting unplugged. He shook his head at his clichéd vileness.
What they were thinking when the developed me…
He reached a wire leading down into the ground. Taking it, he followed its course until he came to an electrical opening.
The path to Litwak's Arcade. Nobody's ever gotten past the Surge Protector before, they say?
He retrieved a small device from a satchel at his side. Setting it against the wall of the wire, he turned a set of knobs in a particular combination. A series of electrical pulses shot into the wire, through the outlet, and down into the power strip. He paused, listening. Within moments, the sounds of confused talking reached his ears.
Old Surge'll be occupied containing that for at least fifteen minutes, Mr. Ainsworth thought to himself as he placed the device back in his satchel. Enough time for me to get into a game, and way longer than anything similar my clients could ever do. Thank the console developers for their ridiculously powerful sci-fi weapons.
Slipping through the outlet, Mr. Ainsworth hurried through the short stretch of wire beyond into the power strip. The interior was darkened. The Surge Protector was off to one side, attempting to reassure several panicking characters that everything would be fine, and that the power would be back very soon.
Smirking, Mr. Ainsworth crept along the edge of the wall, using the dim lighting as a cloak, until he reached a wire opening above which was a sign that read Pong. Mr. Ainsworth's smirk widened into a grin.
Exactly the game I had in mind- Mr. Litwak's favorite, if my research is accurate. And-
He paused, flattening himself further against the wall, as a young girl strode into view. She sported a blue-green hoodie, unmatched striped leggings, black shoes, and a skirt that resembled the wrapping of a Reese's peanut butter cup. The girl was gazing at the wire entrance with a concerned look. Mr. Ainsworth searched his memory, retrieving the name he'd discovered on the internet.
Vanellope von Schweetz, Princess of Sugar Rush, and expert racer, debuted 1997. And apparently, she loves Pong?
A small, clean shaven man in dark pants, brown gloves and boots, and a blue shirt and cap arrived beside her.
Fix-It-Felix Jr. All around handyman, with a hammer that's the construction equivalent of a Midas touch, debuted 1982.
"They'll be okay, Vanellope," Felix said. "As soon as the power's back on and it's safe again, you can go check on them."
"I know," said Vanellope. "It's just…I'm worried, and I don't know why."
Mr. Ainsworth grinned again. By thunder, you should be worried, little lady.
"Come with me," said Felix. "We can wait at the table over there."
Vanellope nodded quietly and followed Felix towards the aforementioned table. While their backs were to the wire opening, Mr. Ainsworth slipped into it.
Blessed darkness, hiding my form. Mr. Fix-It, you might not want to risk a trip through the wires, but I will.
He reached the end of the wire and peered out onto the field. All was pitch black, save for the white net, the two paddles holding a whispered conversation to one side…and the grey door knob that led to the code room.
Watching to make sure that the paddles were not looking, Mr. Ainsworth slipped quietly towards the door. He made it inside not a moment too soon, for the power came back as soon as he'd closed the door behind him. Pressing his ear to the door, he listened for any signs of discovery. To his relief, no one was heading for the door or talking about it.
A smirk on his face, Mr. Ainsworth headed down a set of steps into the square room. Boxes and wires of code crisscrossed it at seemingly random angles. He glanced around until he spotted a box labeled Screen. Arriving beside this, Mr. Ainsworth selected a tool from his satchel and set about his work. Minutes later, he was done.
There. Now, all I need to do is wait by that door upstairs until morning. The players will come in, somebody will turn on Pong -they always do- and then, when the screen fails to work, Litwak'll slap on the orange paper. I can then make my observations, shut down the power again, and get out. Simple, really.
He climbed back up the stairs until he arrived beside the door once more. Leaning back against the wall, he checked his pocketwatch.
Got a way's yet to go before morning. And the waiting's the hard part. But no fear, Jacoby, it's all worth it in the end.
Yet again, he shook his head at his own thoughts.
Why'd they have to make me so cruel? I could have been three-dimensional.
His fingers strayed to the handle of his bowie knife.
No mercy, Jacoby Ainsworth, no mercy. That's your motto, and don't you forget it.
He frowned.
If only that kid hadn't wanted to test the mettle of the characters whose game'll get unplugged, I'd have made sure they wouldn't have escaped. Glitches die in their own games after all. Oh well, maybe I can kill those paddles later. I can always hope.