Beginning Author's Note: Hoo boy...this is another long chapter. I'm sure you could see that by the word count for this chapter, but I thought I'd throw it out there. I couldn't find a good place to stop, and even after I'd cut a lot of the fat from it, I still had a lot. Sorry:(
Wynchel and Duncan peered up at the towering figure looming over them, both caught somewhere between wounded pride and mild terror.
"Really, uh, ma'am," Duncan said. "We gotta put his, uh, whatcha-callems on him first." He shook the cuffs and shackles in either hand for emphasis.
"If you die outside your game—" Wynchel started.
"You don't regenerate," Tamora said flatly. "I know. But I think I got this covered." She withdrew her laser pistol and shifted into the Weaver stance. The donut guards scrambled away from the line of fire.
"Okay, okay," Duncan said. "Point taken. You can handle yourself."
"Felix, though," Wynchel said, "I'm not so sure about."
Felix's face looked slightly offended, but he said nothing, at the risk of being rude. Tamora holstered her gun and shrugged.
"I guess I'll look after him," Tamora said. "Maybe."
Felix wasn't actually worried about Turbo not being restrained. Not worried about himself, anyway; he truly didn't feel like Turbo would try to harm him. What good would that do him, anyway? He didn't know why Tamora was so insistent on the racer's bindings remaining off, but he figured it was because she wanted to watch him try to run while she fired rounds at him.
"Well, if you're sure…" Duncan said.
"Oh, I'm sure," Tamora said with a smirk.
Duncan threw the handful of chains unceremoniously to the ground, sending them clattering over to the corner. "Alright, then…but don't say we didn't warn you."
"I'm sure I can handle a four-foot has-been," Tamora said.
Wynchel unlocked the door for the two of them. "She's open," he announced as he swung the door on its hinges.
Felix hurried past Tamora and into the cell, intent on giving Turbo a half-second of warning before the gun-toting heroine caught him completely off-guard. But as he got into the cell, one thing was obvious:
Turbo was sound asleep.
He was splayed out as best he could on the tiny strawberry wafer, one leg dangling from the edge, the other bent at the knee and pressed against the wall. His right hand was behind his un-helmeted head in lieu of a pillow, his left resting atop his belly. His loud breathing could almost be mistaken for snoring.
In the time Felix took to debate on whether or not to wake him, Tamora entered the cell behind him.
Then everything started happening very quickly.
Felix heard some sort of a metallic sound, and three quick pshoom-pshoom-pshoom sounds sailing over his head. Tamora's laser pistol. He ducked, hands over his cap, skittering over to the side.
But he was not Tamora's primary target.
Missing Turbo's body by mere millimeters—if that—three bottlecap-sized indentions smoldered into the wall, filling the air with the bittersweet smell of burnt chocolate. Turbo snapped into consciousness, eyes popping open, limbs flailing. He saw Tamora with her gun's sights pointed right at him and decided now would be a prime time to put his helmet back on. He snatched it off the floor and jammed it on his head, scooting as far back into the corner as he could possibly get.
His eyes darted from the mystery lady to Felix to the newfound holes in his wall, back to Felix, to the lady, to the bullet holes. To Felix.
"Rise and shine, milk-drinker," Tamora said, sliding her gun back into her holster.
Though still glazed with sleep, Turbo's eyes were wide with confusion and fear. "Felix?" he croaked. "Uh, who—who's ya friend, here?" Nervous giggles escaped his lips.
"Turbo," Felix said, trying and failing to force some utterance of cheer into his voice. "This is Tamora."
If Turbo's eyes became any wider, they were going to fall out of his sockets and into his lap.
"She's Tamora?"
Tamora took a step closer. Turbo winced.
"That's Sergeant Calhoun to you."
Turbo visibly swallowed. "N-nice to meet you, too," he hoo-hooed.
"Oh, look!" Felix exclaimed, again trying to sound much more enthused than he truly was. "You've got chairs in here now." He walked over to the items in question, inspecting the handiwork.
"Mm-hmm," Turbo hummed shakily. "Hey, you and your lady can have a seat, there…" His eyes darted to Tamora's pistol.
"Sitting down is good!" Felix nodded. Maybe bringing her down to their eye level would make her less prone to use her gun. Maybe. He had a seat himself, craning his neck up to Tamora to do the same.
"I'm not his 'lady,'" Tamora said. She made no move to sit. Her hand hovered over her pistol, as if in thought. "At least, I'm not anymore…as of about an hour ago. You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?" She cocked an eyebrow at Turbo.
"Who, me?" Turbo said, glancing around for anybody else that could be the offending party. He pointed a finger at his chest. "Eh-heh. I take it by the way you're talking that, uh…you and Felix aren't, hm-hmh, dating…anymore?"
"What's so funny, huh?" Tamora said, stepping closer. She bent her forefinger and thumb into the OK signal, then flicked Turbo on the tip of his nose. His eyes watered. "You think my love life is something comical?"
Turbo burst into a peal of giggles. "Hah-hah! No, no, whydja think somethin like that?" He waved his hands in front of him in defense, still laughing, unable to control himself. "I just laugh, hoo hoo, when I…get nervous."
She lowered her face to Turbo's, now mere inches apart, as if leaning in for some sugar. "I'm not making you nervous, am I, big guy?"
"Oh, extremely," he smiled, biting his lower lip.
She straightened herself back up. "Good. That's partly why I'm here. The other reason I made this little detour"—she crouched down into the other peppermint chair, though it was much too small for her—"is to find out some information."
"Oh…kay," Turbo said. He allowed himself to relax a little, the muscles in his shoulders loosening.
Felix couldn't imagine what she could be wanting to ask. It could be anything. He just hoped Turbo could control his temper when she asked whatever it was she wanted to know about. Tamora was none too shy when it came to asking personal questions, and Turbo was none too keen about answering them, so this would likely not end well. He wished he could think of something to get her off the subject, but there was nothing he could say that would make her stray from her objective—he knew that.
"My game was plugged in approximately two months ago," Tamora said. "And as such, I don't know much about the history of this arcade. Just what tiny bits of information this old-timer's been able to tell me." She cocked her head in Felix's direction.
"So," she continued, "I want you to fill me in on a few details."
No, Felix groaned inwardly. He caught Turbo's left eye twitch, just the tiniest little flicker of anger. But his face remained calm, albeit slightly nervous-looking.
"I guess I could do that," Turbo said, feigning confidence.
"Sure you can," Tamora said coolly. "Now. I want you to tell me…about how you and Felix met."
Turbo and Felix exchanged confused glances. It was obvious that neither of them thought that was where the conversation was heading.
"Oh, I could've told you that," Felix said, forcing a smile.
"I know," Tamora said. "But I don't want to hear it from you. I want to hear it from Boyfriend, here."
The slightest bit of a smile tugged at the corner of Turbo's mouth. Of course the racer would find some sort of glory in his new title, Felix thought. At least the feeling of impending violence somehow felt lessened.
If he can remember, Felix thought. Oh, please let him remember.
"Alright, Sarge," Turbo said, cracking his knuckles. "I can do that, no prob."
Felix let out a sigh of relief as Turbo began to talk.
{*}
"Shotgun on the big bedroom!" Turbo yelled, bolting up the stairs. No sooner as he said those words did he feel the scruff of his racing suit being yanked backward. Axel and Rally, his stupid—stupid—older twin brothers, clambered past him.
Turbo grabbed blindly at a blue-suited pantleg, sending one of the twins flailing, and somehow the other had gotten knocked down in the skirmish—the three of them brawled on the stairway, all the while trying to scrape their way to the second floor.
Turbo emerged from the scrap victorious, coming out with little more than a throbbing jaw where Rally had clocked him a good one. He ran blindly into the first bedroom he came to. He couldn't be for sure, since he had nothing to compare it to, but it looked a little on the small side—
The door slammed shut behind him.
He tried the door handle, but some asshole was holding it in place. He screamed and cussed, pounding his fists into the door, rattling it on its hinges.
Rally could be heard giggling on the other side of the door. Turbo gritted his teeth together. Among a variety of colorful swear words that sounded almost like free-verse poetry, the phrases "not fair" and "I hate your guts" and "totally not fair" could be heard—which, of course, just made Rally laugh even harder.
Sometimes Turbo really hated being the little brother.
"Should we tell him?" he heard his other brother, Axel, say.
"Yeah," Rally replied, "I guess…"
One of them was trying the handle now, but Turbo wasn't about to let it go. His palms were burning, but he held it tight.
"Let go of the handle and I'll let you out," Rally said.
Grimacing, Turbo did as he was told. Axel and Rally were in the doorway, of course—grinning like idiots. He wanted to punch them.
"All the bedrooms are the same size," Axel laughed. "Dork."
"Nuh-uh," Turbo said, obviously not believing his brothers for a second. "You're lying." He squeezed between the two of them, making his way down the hall.
He looked for himself in the other two rooms—like he'd take the twins' word for anything—and surely enough, they were all roughly the same size. And he also discovered that each room had a race car bed. Two of them were blue, the other red. He, of course, chose the room with the red bed. It was in between his two brothers' rooms, yeah, but it was a price he'd have to pay for what he deemed the best room.
Turbo flopped down on the bed and splayed his arms and legs out, starfish-style. The mattress was so soft…much better than floating in Void. If he closed his eyes, and if his brothers would shut up for a few seconds, he could probably drift off to sleep.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, it was ripped away from him as he heard a tinny musical tune float through the house.
"The hell is that?" he said, sitting up.
He heard Axel and Rally emerging from their rooms. "I think it was the doorbell," Rally said. Turbo heard two pairs of feet descending the stairs.
He had peered out the screen of the Turbo Time cabinet and noticed that they were in some kind of building with other games plugged in alongside each other…places like that had a name, he knew they did, but he couldn't think of it. It only stood to reason that there were other characters out there besides himself and his brothers.
So that must be one of them.
Turbo would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to see who was at the door. He'd spent so much time floating in nothingness with just his two brothers that it would be radical to see somebody else. He hopped out of bed and bounded down the stairs. He knew he wouldn't beat his brothers there, but he still felt the need to race down. Racing was in his code, after all.
"So we open it, right?" Axel said, hand wavering above the door handle.
"Duh," Rally said. His voice sounded aloof, but his face deceived him. He was nervous about whoever was behind the door.
The doorbell rang again.
"Oh, for the love of—scoot over," Turbo said, bumping his brothers out of the way. He jerked the handle and swung the door open.
The first thing that caught Turbo's eye about the figure standing on their doorstep was his skin. It wasn't a sickly gray, like his and his brothers'—it was a light peach color. The next thing was his smile. It was a warm, welcoming grin, proudly displaying two rows of (white!) teeth.
"Hi, there, new neighbors!" the character before them said brightly. "My name is Fix-it Felix, Jr., from the game Fix-it Felix, Jr. But you can call me Felix for short.
I'd offer to shake hands, but," he chuckled, "I've got my hands full."
Turbo tore his eyes away from the hypnotic smile. Surely enough, this character—Felix—had brought a pie with him. At the sight of it, Turbo remembered the hungry knot in his belly.
"Aw, no way!" Axel said, beaming. "Ya didn't have to go and do that."
"It's no trouble, neighbor," he said. "The ladies in my game love baking pies."
The three of them introduced themselves, a little awkwardly because they'd never done it, and Felix reciprocated with "nice to meet you"s and "welcome to the arcade"s and whatnot. (Arcade. That's the word Turbo was trying to think of earlier.) Axel reached an arm out and pulled Turbo inside, ushering for Felix to do the same. He obliged, nodding his thanks as he crossed the threshold.
Their new kitchen was broken in with slices of pie and glasses of chocolate milk.
"Damn, dat's good," Axel said, mouth full. Rally hummed in agreement.
"What's in this?" Turbo asked, pointing at it with his fork.
He had programmed memories of food, but this was his first actual meal. Thick red liquid oozed from under the crust. He dabbed at it with his fork and put it in his mouth, letting the sweetness spread across his tongue. He quickly discovered that he loved sugar. Whether that was pre-programmed within him or not, he had no idea.
"It's a strawberry-rhubarb pie," Felix answered. "My neighbor Mary tried out a new recipe, she said."
"Well, you tell Mary that this recipe's a keeper," Axel said.
"What's a rhubarb?" Turbo asked.
Felix furrowed his brow. "You know what? I don't know."
Felix stayed a little longer, filling them in on the details of the arcade. The four of them walked outside and he pointed to where he'd come in, explaining the tram system and Game Central Station. He told them about the arcade hours, quarter alerts, and general rules about how to conduct oneself during gameplay.
All-in-all, he was a pretty cool dude, Turbo thought. Old-fashioned, and a little too polite for his taste, but pretty cool. Then again, he was the first person besides his knuckleheaded brothers he'd ever met, so he might just have to see about that.
After many declined offers to wash the dishes he'd helped dirty, Felix made his leave, waving at least five hundred times as he walked.
"I like him," Rally said.
"But he's got me worried about the 'quarter alerts' and all that junk," Axel said. "What if we screw up, y'know?"
"Got you worried?" Turbo said. "All you two hafta do is try and beat me—which won't happen, by the way—but me…he said when somebody puts a quarter in our cabinet, they control my body." He rubbed his arms, as if he could feel himself losing control of his limbs already. "Kinda freaky."
"You'll get used to it, probably," Rally said.
Turbo grimaced. "Ugh. Maybe."
"Now for the important question, though," Axel said, clapping a hand on either of his brothers' shoulders. "Who gets that last slice of pie?"
"Felix clearly liked me the best, so it should be me," Turbo said.
"Why do you think he liked you the best?" Rally said.
"He talked to me more," Turbo said simply.
"That's because you wouldn't stop asking him all those stupid questions," Axel pointed out.
The three of them continued to bicker as the made their way inside their new home, their first meal in their guts and the thought of their first day on the job looming over them.
{*}
"And that's it, honestly," Turbo said, shrugging.
Felix couldn't help himself. He was grinning at the memory of his first encounter with Turbo and his brothers. There were lots of odd characters in the arcade, so he wasn't that shocked that their skin was gray and their sclera and teeth were pale yellow instead of white, but they were still a sight. He wondered absently which of them ended up getting that last slice of pie.
"So it wasn't love at first sight, huh?" Tamora asked.
"Nope."
"You two were friends before you started…dating."
"Oh yeah, we were pals for a long time," Turbo said, his voice sounding like he was boasting. He probably was, Felix thought. "And then we—"
"Okay, okay," Tamora said, holding a hand out in front of her to shush him. "Spare me the details, please."
"You don't wanna hear about"—Turbo clutched his hands at his heart and feigned a swoon—"our first kiss? I remembah it like it was yesterday. So much slobber everywhere…"
Oh, please, no, Turbo, Felix thought desperately. Don't push her buttons, not today, not here, not now, please don't...
"I will shoot you," Tamora said.
Turbo stiffened. "Guess we'll save that story for a rainy day…heh."
Tamora scoffed. "You broke up with me for this guy?" Tamora said, jabbing a thumb in Turbo's direction. "Really?"
"Hey," Turbo said hotly.
"It's complicated," Felix admitted, wringing his hands together. Seemed he was doing that quite a bit, here lately.
"That would be the best way to describe it," Turbo agreed.
"Tell me something," Tamora said, directing the statement toward Turbo. "What is it you see in Felix? What do you like about him?"
Felix thought he could make out the tiniest hint of a blush crossing Turbo's cheeks. Then again, Turbo wasn't much of a blusher. Not many things embarrassed or bothered him, since he was so nonchalant about…pretty much everything. But the question had obviously caught him off-guard.
He regained his composure quickly, however. Felix half-wished he hadn't; an over-confident Turbo was more likely to set Tamora off, which would not end well. Felix tried to brace himself for whatever retort was about to come out of the racer's mouth.
"What do I like about him? You wanna hear some mushy-gushy stuff, huh?" he smirked.
"Let me rephrase that," Tamora said with a grimace. "What do you like best about him?"
Turbo sat in silence for a few seconds, apparently in thought. He looked over at Felix and shot him a quick grin. Somehow, it was reassuring.
"Well, the obvious answer is that he's just so nice," Turbo said. "For one thing, I mean, look at me." He extended his arms in a ta-da fashion. "Since this is honesty hour, here, I'm not the biggest prize in the looks department."
"You got that right," Tamora remarked.
"Anyway," Turbo went on, scowling, "if you're wanting a more deep answer, here…I guess our personalities just click or something, Iunno how to explain it, really…" He scratched his cheek in thought. "Like…y'know the usual cliché shit, we can talk for hours about nothing, we have fun doing pretty much anything, yadda yadda."
He was almost romantic, Felix thought, sighing inwardly.
Tamora turned to Felix. The intensity of her stare made Felix want to squirm away into the corner.
"You're being awfully quiet."
"I'm just listening," Felix said.
"And what are you thinking of these answers?"
"Very proud that he's not making an idiot out of himself," Felix said.
"You're welcome," Turbo said, grinning.
"What else?" Tamora prodded.
"I…I'd have to say I agree with everything he's said so far," Felix said. Honestly, he didn't know what kind of answer Tamora was looking for, but it seemed to satisfy her. She nodded thoughtfully.
"So you're not going to assassinate me," Turbo said.
Tamora stood up, stretched, rolled her shoulders a few times. "Not today," she said. "But you're not off my radar just yet."
Before Turbo could open his mouth to retort something that would probably get his jaws boxed, Felix interjected, "Well! This went much better than I thought it would. I have to say I'm relieved."
"Yeah," Turbo said, "no bloodshed, can ya believe it?"
"Not really," Felix admitted, smiling in relief.
"Don't misunderstand me," Tamora said to Turbo. "You're not in the clear, not by far. I will be keeping very close tabs on you. One slip-up out of you and I'll make sure you never see the light of day again, nonetheless Fix-it, here. You got that?"
"I got that," Turbo nodded.
Felix could tell he was fighting back a smile. He always managed to turn bad situations into funny ones, to make them easier for him to deal with, Felix guessed. The urge to laugh this one off was probably strong in him at that moment. But Turbo was conducting himself pretty well, all things considered.
"All right," Tamora said. "I think I'm done, here, for today."
'For today'? Felix thought.
"Come back any time," Turbo deadpanned.
Felix turned automatically to leave, but Turbo hollered for him to stop.
"And where do you think you're going?" Turbo said. "Get back here."
Felix peered up at Tamora, who merely shrugged. "Don't look at me, I'm not your girlfriend anymore, remember? You do what you want."
That stung. Felix wanted to apologize, beg for mercy, something—but Tamora reached down and pushed the bill of his hat over his eyes.
"I'll see you around, Short-Stack," she said, turning on a heel, making her exit.
Turbo hopped off the bed and watched her leave. Wynchel and Duncan, sitting in metal chairs on either side of the cell door, watched her go, too, then turned to waggle their eyebrows at each other.
"What the hell was that?" Turbo whined, throwing his hands in the air. Then he'd apparently noticed something—his hands weren't bound behind his back this time. His anger dissolved and was replaced with something not unlike joy.
He threw his wrists out in front of him and studied them. He beamed. He threw Felix into a smothering embrace, mumbling things Felix couldn't understand into the handyman's shoulder.
Then, of course, the anger resurfaced. "Wait a minute, here, I forgot! I'm mad at you!"
"I didn't know she would come here!" Felix said. "I took her on a date to—to break up with her, actually, and she decided to come here on her own!"
Turbo looked drained. He groaned. "I thought she was gonna kill me with that gun, I swear. I woulda just respawned, but that's not the point." He crossed his arms. "Still would've hurt."
"I'm sorry," Felix said, though he didn't know what he was sorry for.
Turbo softened, uncrossing his arms to flap a dismissive hand. "No, no, you didn't do anything."
Then Turbo looked down at his wrists again. "I just can't believe this," he said, turning them round and round. He wrapped Felix in another hug, this one no tenderer than the last.
But it felt nice.
"I'm sure they'll chain me up good 'n' tight next time, so I have to get this outta my system," he said to Felix's shoulder.
Felix patted him reassuringly on the back. Turbo might be a bipolar maniac, but…he was an awfully sweet bipolar maniac when he wanted to be. He allowed himself a contented sigh.
Things seemed to be panning out better than expected, after all. He knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet, but the Tamora ordeal was a step in the right direction, he thought. Maybe he could salvage a friendship with her…maybe not…he'd just have to see. And as for Turbo, well…he still had a lot of things he wanted to discuss with him, definitely, but it could wait. Tamora had been a pretty big shock, there was no doubt about that. They could talk about more serious matters another day.
Felix had learned that he needed to take small victories when he could grab them. For now, this hug was plenty enough for him.
Ending Author's Note: So I always try to add just a little humor into my chapters, because I am the kind of person that takes nothing seriously, to a fault. You can expect some out-of-character-ness in all fanfiction you read, but I hope mine wasn't too bad. (That's always a concern of mine.) And I'll be honest, I haven't started on the next chapter yet, but I promise I'll work on it. Thank you so much for reading!