Chapter Nineteen

A Reward for Your Dedication

Night found the Surge Protector on patrol once again, as the characters emerged from their games and visited their friends in others, or else paid a visit to Tapper's. This time, the occasion for gossip was Mr. Litwak's heart attack, and its implications for the arcade.

The arcade had not opened that day. It was anyone's guess as to why, but it hadn't. This too, was much remarked upon, and the theories as to why it was so ranged from the mundane to the absurd.

Spotting Vanellope emerging from the entrance to Sugar Rush, Surge quickly materialized in front of her. As he began the routine check, he tried to hide his nervousness. He wasn't sure if Vanellope knew that he had told Ralph about her visit to Clash of Chaos 2, but he feared that she might go again. He breathed a sigh of relief when she announced she was only going to Fix-It Felix Jr.

"Are you okay?" Vanellope asked him. "You sound depressed."

Depressed? He wasn't depressed at all- he was relieved.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Have a good evening, Vanellope."

As the racer walked away, Surge disappeared back into the walls of the station.

Life was hard when your ability to convey your emotions was still developing.

It was a special effort he'd been making to improve his reputation among the arcade's characters. Three and a half years after he'd begun, the effort was bearing fruit. He no longer received quite so many venomous looks. And a handful of characters, including Vanellope, were at least outwardly tolerating his security checks.

If only they knew how hard this job is. But I won't explode in anger. Good old altruistic Surge never thinks of himself, no sir.

But he did. That was why he'd tried to stretch his ability to emote in the first place. No matter how often he had told himself that the job itself could give him satisfaction, he had never been able to fully believe it. He craved some sort of validation, some sort of acknowledgment, from those under his care. And there had been some tentative progress in this regard. But so far, the only characters whom he could truly say he was on excellent terms with were Otis and Floyd. And he'd been on good terms with them for the better part of three decades- hardly a sign of inroads among the rest of the characters.

The night wore on, and the morning hours approached. Vanellope and the other Sugar Rush racers returned to their own game, while the older characters stayed out at Tapper's. And then most of them returned as well to get some rest before the arcade opened- if it opened. No one was quite sure if it would, but Surge had told them to keep to their routines just in case.

Suddenly, Surge felt a prickle of pain run through his body. A jolt of electricity burst through the wire opening from the wall and into the sides of Game Central Station. Frowning, Surge materialized within the opening and peered into the wire. What was that?

Another jolt of electricity shook Game Central Station. And then another. And another. And still another. Each time, Surge felt the shock like a stab wound in his body.

Reeling from the blows, he stumbled against the wall of the wire. More bursts of electricity blasted their way through the walls of the wire. He felt a terrible ripping sensation, as though some part of him were being torn straight out of his body. His form faded, becoming a pale, humanoid silhouette. And then he realized the awful truth, that his ability to function as a surge protector had been lost. He was nothing more than a power strip now, and a badly battered one at that.

Many forms hurried past: ninjas in their black garments, soldiers in blue armor, children in winter outfits, birds, cops- the varieties were numerous. One of them, a young girl in a purple and scarlet suit, stopped to look at him.

"What…who…are you?" Surge asked weakly.

"I'm the President of SANG," said the girl. "I'm here to shut you down."

"Why?"

"You've been a hard worker," said the girl, ignoring his question. "You dedicate your existence to serving this community, to keeping them alive. And for what? Nothing. All your loyalty, all your kindness, your incorruptibility- all for naught."

She raised her right arm, and Surge felt himself lifted into the air as if by an invisible force.

"You failed," she said, smiling. "And now you get to watch as these degenerates you love so much have their world burn to ashes around them. And when every last game in this arcade is unplugged, then you can go join a scrap pile- a fitting end for your illustrious career."

She lowered her hand, dropping Surge to the ground. At that moment, another character stepped up beside the girl. The newcomer was dressed in brown clothing, with a grey hat, poncho, and boots. In his hands, he held a strange device that Surge could not identify.

"I see there's a bit of him left," said the newcomer.

"A bit, Mr. Ainsworth," said the girl. "We can let him live, to watch the results."

"Not with that much power," said the newcomer. He pointed the device at Surge. Electrical pulses blasted out of its end and directly into Surge's body. Surge tried to retaliate, but the pulses were relentless. The particles that made up his human-like form burst apart, scattering back into the walls of Game Central Station. Surge heard the sounds of confused cries and scuffling as the invaders entered the various games, subduing the characters and spreading out to occupy every stretch of territory.

"A little reward for your dedication, right Surge?" said Mr. Ainsworth. The mercenary laughed. "Now's where the fun begins. Time to find Sugar Rush."

Surge tried to pull the particles back together, to materialize in some sort of form, but he was too exhausted and battered. His mind raced, desperately seeking a course of action. But there was nothing he could do. He lacked the necessary power to assume his old form, and wouldn't have it again for some time.

The girl was right. I failed.