The area around the Turbo Time portal was crowded. All of Calhoun's men had their guns trained on the opening, which unsettled the surge protector more than a little. A few other video game characters passed by, glancing nervously at the spectacle. One of them looked unfamiliar, though with the population of Game Central, he could have been just an obscure NPC. This one was wearing a brown suit and tie, and was blond with a bowl cut. He had a mustache and goatee, and wore large, green-tinted glasses.
"Are ya sure he ain't gonna turn into a giant cybug-Turbo like last time?" one of the men asked.
"Negative," Calhoun snapped, "Someone would have to bring a cybug into that sugar-bowl of a racing game, and then one of those bugs would hafta eat Turbo! And nobody here is dumb enough to do that again... not this time anyway."
"Can't believe I'm doin' this," Ralph grumbled as he approached the area.
At the sound of his voice, Calhoun and her troops whirled around and trained their guns on the giant man.
"Great. Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse."
"State your business, civilian!" Calhoun yelled.
"I'm just... just goin' into Turbo Time," Ralph mumbled, annoyed at being pushed into this and at the entourage he would have to get through to go into that stupid game.
He was on quite amicable terms with everyone present, but still, something told him his little assignment was just going to get a lot more difficult.
"Goin' in, huh? Not without an escort! Remember, if you die outside your game, you're history – Game Over!"
"Turbo doesn't KILL people!" Ralph yelled, "Isn't it kinda stupid to point a buncha guns at a video game character that DOESN'T KILL YOU?"
"Well," Felix chuckled nervously, "You actually do kinda kill me in our game."
"Ugh. You know what I mean!" Ralph growled, "Turbo doesn't kill people! And I don't see any bricks around here. Besides, when have I ever actually tried to kill someone outside my own game?"
"Hey, I was joking!"
Ralph slapped his forehead in disgust, then stomped over to the crowd.
"Well HA HA. Very funny! Now let me in there! Clyde suggested I talk to this bozo, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do. So, is anyone gonna shoot at me and risk making everyone else in Fix-It Felix Jr. homeless?"
There was a pause for a second, then Calhoun sighed and motioned for her men to stand down. She walked up calmly to Ralph, then grabbed him by his tattered shirt. A very stern look mixed with worry was on her face.
"Fine," she said, "But don't go doing anything stupid! If you aren't back within one hour, we're comin' in after you, 'cause if there's one thing I hate, it's losin' a valuable man. Even one with a case of halitosis that'd kill Satan himself!"
"Uh, he really doesn't have a problem with my breath," Ralph commented.
Calhoun hmphed at that remark and let go of Ralph's shirt, then watched him lumber into the portal.
Nobody in the group noticed a small, round creature sneaking in with him.
Turbo Time's world had a large stadium and a simple, generic racetrack with a stage in the middle. On the stage was a platform, which had three steps – the highest for first place, and the lowest for last. A cheer rose from the crowds, and a familiar voice yelling "Turbo-tastic!" caught Ralph off-guard. He yelped and jumped out of the way as a small race car zoomed by, almost missing him.
"Wow," Ralph breathed as he watched the little man racing ahead of two others, "I really gotta get into shape."
"AAAND THE WINNER IS – TURBO!" and unseen announcer called out over the loudspeakers.
Turbo and the others got out of their cars and headed over to the platform. A man walked over and handed Turbo a metal, and Turbo, grinning with glee, pushed the other two off of the platform.
One racer let out an "Ouch!"
"Oh I'm gonna hate doin' this for thirty years," the other complained.
Incensed at that display, Ralph ran onto the stage, ready to beat the bits out of Turbo.
"Hey!" the burly bad guy yelled, "You don't hafta be a jerk just 'cause you won!"
He grabbed Turbo roughly by the jacket and lifted him to his face, shaking the tiny racer until his eyes grew wide as the serving platter for Felix's anniversary cake.
"Wh-who are you?" Turbo stammered, his face first turning white from terror, then green from nausea, "And... blegh! Ugh... can't you brush your teeth before you strike ten million kinds of fear into a guy?"
"I'm Ralph, from Fix-It Felix Jr.," Ralph snarled, "And I came here 'cause a good friend of mine said I should talk to you, since you're new around here!"
"Y-you're not from this game?" Turbo asked, looking ready to soil himself.
"No," Ralph snapped, "And you better stick to your own game, if you're gonna be a colossal jerk just 'cause you won!"
"Well that's a relief," Turbo snorted, "Because if getting terrorized by you was part of the game, I would quit!"
Then he did a double-take.
"And who is being a jerk here?" he countered, "What's the big idea jumping into my game just to tell me to stay put?"
"Just don't go game-jumpin' and erasin' the memories of other game characters just 'cause they're more popular than you. Got it?"
A confused look came over Turbo's face, but he seemed to have had enough and said, "Sure. I'll leave them alone. Now would you be so kind as to PUT ME DOWN?"
"Sure thing, pal!" Ralph spat as he threw Turbo unceremoniously onto the stage and stomped back to the portal, smiling a little as he heard the other two racers laughing.
As Ralph entered Game Central, Calhoun gave him a puzzled look.
"You're early," she noted, "How did the meeting go?"
"He's just as big of a jerk as the old one," Ralph replied, "We'd better keep an eye on him."
"How so, Ralph?" Felix asked.
"You shoulda' seen him!" Ralph explained, "I mean, I know he's programmed to knock the losers down, but he's not even being controlled by anybody!"
"He's new. When a game is first plugged in, the characters kinda hafta get settled in."
"Well I don't drop bricks on you for fun, do I?"
"Calm down, civilians," Calhoun interrupted, "Even I have a few instincts I have to keep in check. When Felix called me a 'dynamite gal', it made me remember my late fiance, and it almost ruined a wonderful relationship."
She then turned to Ralph and continued.
"And I know you have hurt some people before – including Felix and the First-Person Shooter from my game."
"Yeah, I know that," Ralph sighed.
His first encounter with the First Person Shooter had gone rather badly, and he/she – Ralph couldn't tell with some characters – still hadn't quite forgiven him.
"So we'll keep an eye on Turbo, but but don't make this situation any worse. The last thing we need is Armageddon served with a side of World War III."
"I won't," Ralph assured her, "I usually don't pick on little guys... outside my job of course."
"How do you know he was being a 'jerk', Ralph?" Clyde asked.
"I told you already – he knocked the other two racers down after winning. I mean I know it was part of the schtick, but come on! Nobody was playin' him, and he hurt them!"
"New video game characters are often like that," Clyde explained, looking disappointed, "They follow their programming even outside gameplay. You should know that."
"He didn't even look like he was sorry."
"You shouldn't judge someone from your memories of another," Clyde said, "I hope you didn't do what I think you did.
"You mean rough him up?" Ralph asked, "I gave him a 'friendly' little warning to not go game-jumping if that's what you mean."
"I seriously doubt you were 'friendly' about it. I know how you feel about bullying, but have you ever heard about becoming what you hate?"
"Nope. Am I going Turbo... again?"
"That's not what I mean. I don't want YOU to turn into a bully. You're a 'bad guy', but Ralph, I don't want you to turn into a 'bad' guy."