Author's Note: After two chapters of backstory, we're finally in the present day. Thanks to everyone who has favourited or is following this story. I hope you continue to enjoy it! :) By the way, the Sorceress will appear in this chapter, and since we don't really know what game she's from, I've made it all up. I hope that's okay.

Chapter Three: It's Freedom Day!

Knock, knock.

"Vanellope?" Ralph called.

Vanellope, who had been having a lovely dream about racing, groaned and sat up, pulling a hair from her mouth. Her nightdress, fashioned from an orange candy wrapper, crinkled noisily. "Yeah?" she said groggily.

"Did I wake you up?" Ralph asked as he opened the door.

"Nuh-uh," said Vanellope. "I've been awake for hours." She promptly fell back onto her pillow and dropped off.

Ralph poked her. Her eyes shot open. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Me again," said Ralph. "Sour Bill told me to tell you to get ready."

"Ready for what?" Vanellope glanced at the bedside clock; it read 8:53. She leapt out of bed. "Sweet mother of monkey milk! The arcade opens in seven minutes!" She began to glitch around the messy room, grabbing items of clothing. "I gotta get dressed!" She stopped suddenly and looked at Ralph properly. "And you should be in your own game!"

Ralph threw his hands up. "Easy there, kid. The arcade isn't opening."

"Huh?" Vanellope stared up at him with a blank face.

"Don't you remember? Mr Litwak went on vacation this morning."

"Oh yeah!" Vanellope's eyes lit up. "Where was he going again? Brazil?"

"Yep. You know what that means?"

Vanellope thought. "He gets to watch a lot of soccer?"

Ralph sighed. "Well, that, but it also means-"

"Wait, I know this! The arcade is closed for two whole weeks!" Vanellope butted in.

"Now you're getting there! Which means today is-"

"FREEDOM DAY!" screamed Vanellope. "And Sugar Rush is hosting the First-Day-of-Summer-Vacation Party!" She glitched past Ralph into the hallway. "Come on, Stinkbrain! We've got a party to prepare."

"And you've got clothes to get changed into," Ralph reminded her.

Vanellope returned sheepishly. "Okay, yeah, that's a good note."

. . .

The castle ballroom was filling up with colourful tables. Various racers and NPCs drifted in and out, some to put up candy-themed decorations, some to bring in plates piled up with food. Vanellope paced the edge of the dance floor with a clipboard in her hand and Ralph in tow.

"Okay, Beard Papa says the Kart Bakery is running at full capacity, Duncan's chocolate milk delivery will arrive at three as planned and – excuse me." Vanellope's rambling paused as she told off Sour Bill. "Why is there a random box of tissues by the make-your-own sundae bar? This is a First-Day-of-Summer-Vacation Party, not a funeral." She glitched over, picked up the box, dumped it in the bin and carried on where she left off. "Anyway, I've told the recolours not to put the soufflés in the Bakery oven until the guests start arriving. Apart from that, we're almost ready." She stopped and glanced up at Ralph. "This is crazy. I can't believe we're doing this."

"Me neither," said Ralph.

"I mean, who knew we had eight thousand ice cream bowls?"

"Not me." Ralph picked up a clear glass bowl decorated with the Sugar Rush logo. It slipped out of his hands and crashed to the floor. Sour Bill rushed over and swept up the shards.

"Okay, now we have seven thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine ice cream bowls." Vanellope shrugged. "That's still more than enough."

Despite her dismissive comment, the loss of the bowl had affected Vanellope. Her shoulders stiffened, and her hands gripped the clipboard so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Hey." Ralph knelt down and lifted Vanellope's chin up. "Relax, okay? Everything's on track. It's going to be great. Just think about all the new people you'll be seeing soon."

Vanellope smiled. "You're right. I can't wait to meet everyone." She gasped. "You know what? This'll be great for you too."

"Why?" Ralph asked slowly.

"Because there'll be lots of women there. And one of them could be The One."

Ralph rolled his eyes.

"No, no, just imagine. . ." Vanellope came to a window and wrapped herself in a net curtain as if it was a ball gown. She threw her head back seductively. "A beautiful woman standing on the side-lines, looking for someone to talk to. . ."

Vanellope turned her head to Ralph. "She suddenly sees you standing alone as well, and she's thinking, 'What a handsome man. Looking at him, I just wanna . . . stuff some chocolate in my face.'" She abandoned the curtain and wolfed down some chocolate drops. Ralph wondered where this was going.

"You walk towards each other and meet in the middle." Vanellope approached. "You'll be laughing and talking all evening, but then, when there's a break in the conversation. . ." Vanellope waited. ". . . You'll feel this spark fly between you. And that's when you know you won't be leaving the party alone."

Ralph blinked a few times. "Really?"

"No!" Vanellope burst out laughing. "I'm just messing with you! Who needs a girlfriend? You'll just have less time for me."

Ralph laughed along. "It did sound pretty crazy. I'm about as far from handsome as-"

There was a clatter and a wail.

"Candlehead!" Vanellope cried. "I gotta sort this. See you later!"

"Sure," Ralph replied, watching as Vanellope glitched and disappeared.

He turned and headed outside, still thinking about Vanellope's joke. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but a part of him wished that Vanellope hadn't been joking, that he actually stood a chance when it came to women. He wouldn't have minded a girlfriend. As he trudged along the path leading down from the castle, lost in his thoughts –

"Oof!"

Someone slammed into him.

Ralph took a step back. "Hey!" he yelped.

A flustered woman stood before him, her crimson eyes wide. She flicked back her long, dark blue hair. "I'm so sorry," she said. She had a British accent with a deep, seductive quality. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." Ralph softened his voice. "Great, actually. You?"

"I'm fine too. I just wasn't looking where I was going."

"Me neither."

They paused. The woman regarded her stiletto boots.

"Don't you go to Bad-Anon sometimes?" Ralph asked.

"That's right," she nodded. "We never really talked, did we? You must be Wreck-It Ralph."

"That's me."

"I've heard so much about your exploits. Good things, I assure you!" she added. "I ought to introduce myself. I'm the Sorceress."

"From the Whac-a-Mole?"

"Wak-A-Troll," she corrected. "No-one gets it right."

Ralph swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry. It happens a lot."

Ralph looked back at the castle. "I think you're a little early. They're still setting up."

"Oh, I know." The Sorceress laughed a little. "I'm just planning my route, surveying the area in advance. I don't like surprises." She made eye contact with Ralph. "Unless they're good surprises, of course."

Ralph found himself taking deep breaths. He was a little light-headed. He clasped his hands behind his back; they were sweaty. He searched for something to say, but it was as if his mind was clouded in a pink fog.

The Sorceress got there first. "Well, I suppose I should go and find a more suitable outfit." She waved a blue-skinned hand at her tight red dress, which had a low neckline and thigh-high slits. "This one might be too revealing."

"You look great in it, though."

She smiled. "Thank you. I'll see you at the party."

She turned and walked away. Ralph gazed after her. He really wanted Vanellope to appear and say that the party would start right now, just so he could see the Sorceress again straightaway.

. . .

That evening, in Fix-It Felix Jr., the Nicelanders were leaving the apartment complex one by one. Felix stood near the window and watched them line up at the train station. He turned away and moved to the chest of drawers. There were the pieces of paper he'd been writing on all day, as well as his hammer and a pair of white gloves.

He sighed. He couldn't decide what to wear with his outfit. He'd swapped his usual in-game clothes for something a little smarter, so it made sense to swap his workman's gloves for something else. He took them off, pushed them aside and picked up the white pair. The problem with these gloves was that they were quite thin. They'd worked at the thirtieth anniversary party, but that was actually a pretty small affair. At least, it was small compared to Sugar Rush's First Day Party, where every type of character from every game would be there. Did he really want to screw up in front of all those people? One lapse in concentration would be all it took for his powers to seep through.

Maybe . . . maybe I can go without gloves.

He knew he was kidding himself, but Felix wanted to try it. Just in case he had somehow been freed of his burden.

He peered at a picture of his father on the wall. He tried to mimic the picture's pose – one hand on his hip, the other holding the magic hammer aloft. He copied his father's grin.

At first, nothing happened. It's working!

And then he heard the all-too-familiar sound, like the cracking of glass. The handle of the hammer was icing over. He gasped, threw it down and quickly pulled on the white gloves. Breathing deeply, he tried to reassure himself.

It's only for tonight. Keep it in for tonight, and then you'll be back to thick gloves and you'll have nothing to worry about.

Before he left, he picked up the pieces of paper and took a moment to recite the long mantra he had given himself. It was a mixture of things his parents had told him and things he had told himself.

"Don't let them in.

Don't let them see.

Be the Good Guy

You always have to be.

Conceal, don't feel.

Put on a show.

Make one wrong move

And everyone will know."