Chapter Twelve: True Love's Kiss?

Charging into the Wak-A-Troll, the pod soared through burgundy clouds towards what could only be called a fortress. Turrets made of black brick rose from the summit of a volcano, which was leaking lava and painting the snow red.

Ralph slumped down in his seat, leaning his head against the window. By now one half of his hair was white, as if he were a distant relation of Cruella De Vil. He saw the fortress, but he was in no state to take it all in. His head pounded. Occasionally he shivered.

Vanellope hugged him. "Hang in there, Stinkbrain," she whispered.

Ralph couldn't help but smile at the nickname.

The pod swerved to a halt in front of a wooden drawbridge, which collapsed immediately as if it had been waiting for their arrival. A group of slightly confused trolls stood before them.

Calhoun got out first, with Ralph in tow and Vanellope by his side. Vanellsa stayed in the pod, out of sight.

A troll with an eye-patch pulled a face. "Look, it's that dumb Bad Guy who thought he could save his brother."

Ralph didn't argue.

But a troll with his arm in a sling did. "Not as dumb as you. What kind of moron tries to put out a fire with a flamethrower?"

"Says the troll who forgot his own name!"

"Oh, that's it!"

The argument descended into a brawl. Voices screeched. Mallets landed on heads. Others chanted, "Fight, fight, fight-"

"ENOUGH!" Calhoun bellowed. "While you're squabbling, this man needs help. Get him warm and find the Sorceress, NOW!"

"Aye-aye, Captain!" The trolls swept Ralph away into the fortress grounds. The women were shut out as the drawbridge closed on them.

Vanellsa emerged from her hiding place. "I hope he'll be all right," she said.

"Me too," Vanellope agreed.

. . .

The room was darker than Ralph was used to, thanks to the jet-black walls and the shadows created by the thick pillars. A giant circular fireplace took pride of place in the centre of the room, its smoke escaping through a hole in the domed roof. Three tall windows revealed a spectacular view of orange magma, brewing beneath two score display screens.

The Sorceress was at first sitting on a red couch, staring into the flames with tired eyes. But when the trolls entered with Ralph, she leapt to her feet and rushed to embrace him. He almost crushed her in his arms.

"Your skin is icy," she remarked.

"You have to kiss me."

The Sorceress pulled out of the hug. "What did you say?"

"Now." He took a step forwards, but she took a step back.

The trolls sniggered. "We'll give you guys some privacy," one drawled. They backed out one by one.

Ralph and the Sorceress were alone together.

"What happened?" the Sorceress asked. "Why do you need to kiss me?"

"Because Felix's powers . . . got me." Ralph couldn't call it an attack; it didn't feel right.

"But you insisted that Felix wasn't a monster."

"I know." Ralph was close to breaking point. "How could he . . .?" He didn't finish his question.

The Sorceress guided Ralph towards the couch. He started shivering again. "He f-f-f-froze my h-heart, and-and only an act of t-t-true love can s-s-save me."

"A true love's kiss," the Sorceress said immediately.

She understood. She took his chin in her hand and closed her eyes. Ralph did the same. She leaned in slowly, gently. . .

She stopped and smiled. "Such a shame, then, that no-one loves a Bad Guy."

Ralph opened his eyes. "What?"

The Sorceress walked to the windows and began closing the curtains. "A week before the Turbo/Cy-Bug incident," she explained, "the Wak-A-Troll had on average six players a day, while Fix-It Felix Jr. had ten. A week after, my six players halved to three, whereas your ten players doubled to twenty." She stopped and turned back; a fire kindled in her eyes. "And it just got worse. Now there's always someone lining up to fix what you wreck, while I'm lucky to get one player in a week."

Ralph searched for words. "I know it's bad now, but-"

"I didn't stand a chance. Then one day, I realised that if one of the main characters was missing, the game would be unplugged, and your players would come crying to me. Being the Good Guy, Felix was the obvious candidate for seduction, but I wasn't getting anywhere while he was besotted with that violent thug."

"She's not a-"

"Then you saw me-" she approached with a jug of water "-and you were so naïve that you asked me out just like that."

Ralph was silent.

The Sorceress chuckled. "I was plotting some sort of nasty accident to snuff out Felix as well, for good measure." She dumped the water onto the fireplace. The flames shrunk and died.

"No!" Ralph begged. He stood, hoping to stop her, but his legs gave way and he collapsed on the floor.

"Fortunately," the Sorceress continued, "Felix doomed himself with his own powers. And you, fool that you are, sealed your fate by looking for him and then letting him wound you. Now there's just one thing left to do."

"What?" Ralph feared the answer.

"Kill Felix and bring back summer."

"NO!"

"Yes," she cried. "I'll be the hero who saved the arcade! Oh, my sisters will thank me for this." She grinned, baring her pointy teeth. "Better still, Fix-It Felix Jr. will be no more! The Wak-A-Troll will be the most popular game in Litwak's Family Fun Centre!"

Her laugh – her long, loud, maniacal laugh – was torture to Ralph. It seemed to last forever. When it ceased, he had only one thing to say.

"I may be a Bad Guy, but you are awful."

The Sorceress drove a stiletto heel into one of Ralph's fingers. "Just so you don't think that," she spat, "I could have killed Felix when I first found him. But I waited, for you." She stood up. "Now you can die safe in the knowledge that you won't be lonely in Hell."

She wrenched her shoe free and left, leaving drops of Ralph's blood behind her. The door closed and locked.

"No," Ralph moaned, hoarse and weak. He winced; the pain was returning. "Help. Please."

The rest of Ralph's hair turned white.

. . .

There was only one piece of modern technology in the fortress: a telephone. The Sorceress keyed in the number with slender fingers and waited.

The Surge Protector answered on the second ring. "This better be good, 'cause I'm freezing to death here."

She swallowed. "That's actually why I'm calling," she croaked. "I have to report the death of a character."

Silence. Then, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking straight. Um, who is it?"

The Sorceress used her most distraught voice. "Wreck-It Ralph. From the game Fix-It Felix Jr." She sniffed.

The Surge Protector gasped. "Do you know what happened?"

"Yes. He was murdered by. . ." She paused and sobbed for dramatic effect. "Felix."

"The same Felix that started this whole winter?"

The Sorceress nodded fervently, then realised that he couldn't see her. "That's right. He's a monster!" she suddenly wailed. "While he is alive, we are all in danger!" She was bordering on hysterical.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. I realise that this must be upsetting for you, but we need to get the facts straight before we do anything. Meet me in Game Central Station," the Surge Protector told her. "It's probably better to discuss this in person. Don't worry about the body for now. We'll work something out."

"Thank you," she said, her voice heavy with fake emotion. She put the phone down, picked up her trusty trident and grinned. She had no intention of meeting the Surge Protector at all.

The laws of all arcades stated that if a character's game was still plugged in, the punishment for murder would be life imprisonment in their own games. But if someone as important as Ralph was dead, the game was obviously going to be unplugged. In that case, only capital punishment would do.

"I saw him and I was so angry . . . what he'd done . . . I couldn't hold back my rage . . . he would have been executed anyway. . ."

The perfect justification.

From her first meeting with Ralph, the Sorceress recalled the directions to Sugar Rush.