Chapter Eleven
Kindness and Malice
When the arcade had been closed for at least fifteen minutes, Floyd finally broke the silence. "I must say, you're taking this awfully well, Otis," he said.
"So are you, Floyd," was the reply. "I figured you'd be panicking about now."
"Twenty years ago, maybe," said Floyd. "But not now. I know we can get by."
"We'll be homeless in the morning," said Otis. "What did you have in mind?"
"Oh, the usual- set up a panhandling sign, maybe dance a jig for a few quarters."
"We haven't got legs," said Otis.
"Alright fine, we can tell stories of bygone days to the newer characters."
Otis sighed. "If only we could drink root beer."
"You want to drown your sorrows, huh?"
"It's the expected thing to do, isn't it?"
Floyd laughed. "I swear Otis, you're getting as loony as I am- ah, sweet scoreboard, it's Vanellope!"
The racer hurried forward, her face full of concern. "What happened?" she cried as she came to a stop. "Everyone's talking, saying you're getting unplugged."
"Ah, it's nothing," said Floyd. "You just interrupted a great joke session is all."
"Floyd's going to learn to dance," Otis added.
"You're lying," said Vanellope.
"No we're not," said Floyd. "We're just…okay fine, we're lying. Our screen's shot."
"Bullets?" said Vanellope, frowning.
"My dear literalist," said Otis, "it's busted. Won't turn on."
"But that means…" Vanellope's voice trailed off.
"Yeah kid, we're getting unplugged," said Floyd. "But don't worry: we've already got ourselves a new property. Finest corner of Game Central Station a hobo could ask for."
"But…you don't have to live in a corner," said Vanellope. "Why don't you come live with me?"
"Ah, you wouldn't want us around," said Floyd.
"We're too insane," said Otis, in a sagacious tone. "And besides, we were kind of looking forward to making our panhandling sign."
"I've got some special glitter for it," said Floyd. "It'll make lovely sparkles."
"I don't believe you," said Vanellope. "You don't want to be homeless."
"It beats dying in here," said Floyd.
"No," said Vanellope, smiling. "You're going to live in my castle. I insist."
"But really," said Otis, "we'd hate to impose-"
"You're not imposing, okay?" said Vanellope. "I want you to come." She turned and ran towards the wire opening. "Come on, I'll show you guys your rooms!"
"But we just closed the deal on the property," Floyd protested. "We can't- ah, she's out of earshot."
"Joke's over, Floyd," said Otis. "She's serious."
"Well, I still hate to impose-"
Vanellope leaned back out of the wire opening. "You guys coming?" she asked.
"Very well," said Otis. He and Floyd floated after Vanellope.
Behind the door to the code chamber, Mr. Ainsworth had heard all. He frowned, his good humor gone. They took it well? How could they take it well? What went wrong?
He gritted his teeth.
A new home? Kindness? Generosity? Infuriating! Where's the panic, the rage, the frustration? My fee has yet to be paid. May lightning strike that brat for not letting me kill those paddles!
He reached for the door knob. Then, abruptly, he stopped. A new thought had occurred to him.
There's a bit of silver lining here- Otis and Floyd's little lady and their new home. And I'm the only one who knows how to break into Litwak's Arcade…
Mr. Ainsworth's smirk returned.
I guess they'll just be tougher nuts to crack, these paddles. I'll have to hit them somewhere closer to their hearts- I know just where. And since SANG'll need my expertise to get in here again…well Portia, I think I know how my fee'll be paid, and you'll just have to accept it.
Mr. Ainsworth passed through the door and onto the empty playing field, his good humor completely restored. Closing the door behind him, he slipped into the wire. Once more, he drew the powerful device from his satchel and placed it against the wall of the wire. Once more, the electrical bursts passed through the wire wall and into the power strip, temporarily knocking out the power.
He slipped through the wire opening into Game Central Station. Sliding along the wall, he made for the wire that would take him out of the arcade. On the way, he passed Otis and Floyd, with Vanellope beside them. He paused briefly to hear what they were saying.
"The same thing that happened last night," Otis was saying. "You don't suppose…?"
"Not out loud," said Floyd. "We don't want to start a panic."
"Huh?" said Vanellope looking up. "You mean what it might have done to-"
"Quiet," said Otis.
Mr. Ainsworth continued on his way, silently thanking the darkness for hiding him once again. He slipped into the wire just before the power came back on. Then, with a smile of anticipation, he set off on his journey back to the internet.
"Pink?" said Floyd, gazing about the bedroom in the castle that Vanellope had just shown him into. "This won't be good for my image, kid."
"We can paint it blue, I suppose," said Vanellope, her smile fading.
"Nah, don't mind me," said Floyd, noticing her downcast look. "I appreciate this, I really do."
Vanellope's smile returned, though it wasn't as big as it had been before. "I'm…sorry about your game," she said.
"Nearly thirty seven years," said Floyd. "It had to go sometime. Best not to worry about it. I'll miss it all the same, but I'll live. So will Otis."
"Maybe I'd better go see how he's doing," said Vanellope.
"Hey kid," said Floyd. "Nightmares still getting to you?"
Vanellope paused in the act of going through the door. "I…I…don't-"
"Still don't want to talk about it?" said Floyd. "Alright, never mind then."
"I'd better go," said Vanellope. She passed under the door frame
"Hey Vanellope," Floyd called as she was about close the door.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks again…friend."
"You're welcome," said Vanellope, closing the door behind her.
Floyd hovered about the room, taking in the dressers, the bed, the mirror, and the tables and chairs. It was all superfluous for a character of his minimal needs, but he didn't mind.
Offered in good friendship. She's a sweet kid. Never told her as much- at least not in those words.
But- nightmares? Why won't she talk about it? Has she told anyone at all? Is she afraid?
Floyd settled into a hover over the desk. He began to reflect on the day's events, but his mind soon turned back to Vanellope's refusal to explain her references to nightmares.
Ostracized for fifteen years, nearly murdered several times over, bullied, tortured, and beaten- how has this kid stayed so cheerful?
Is she finally losing it?