Aftermath.
Ralph got ready for work. That's the way he thought of it, even though all he had to do was stand, brush off a few brick chips, and wander down the hill of wreckage to just outside the screen, his spot for waiting for a player to come over. He did remember that the next day, the arcade was closed, and he might, just might, go over to Sugar Rush, just to ease the nightmares, and to see with his own eyes that Vanellope was okay.
He was wondering about other things, too. He felt a trip to Tapper's after hours, during a quiet time, might prove fruitful. Tapper seemed to know everything… about games, about people, even about humans… those players that seem to be the only reason the characters here exist at all.
As he stood waiting, he could see Felix on the other side of the building. He wasn't quite his normal self. Usually, he was bouncing around in place, smiling, and almost annoyingly anxious for a game to start. This morning he was just sort of walking back and forth. Ralph could understand that. Maybe he just wants to go see his 'dynamite gal'. A quick introduction was all they had had, while Felix was fixing the cart back up, and the track. She wasn't inclined to talk, since she was scanning the area then, in case a cybug hadn't caught the beacon. He didn't really see the two of them as a 'couple', but who was he to judge? There were some strange pairings throughout the arcade… being from the same game, or even same species… real or not… didn't seem to matter to most when everyone and everything in the entire world of theirs was made of the same bits.
"That's the problem." Ralph whispered. He emphasized his point by pointing a finger into the air. Then he looked at said finger, staring at it like it was acting by itself. "What is the problem?", he thought then. "I can't figure out an answer if I don't even know what the question is."
His reverie was interrupted by Gene, who was leaning out a third-floor window. "Oh, you decided to show up today!", his voice echoing in the quiet. Ralph looked up at him, and his ever-present scowl, and sort of vaguely waved to acknowledge hearing the accusation. Funny, it didn't hurt. Not Gene, or any other person could make him feel guilty about leaving. Ralph knew that Gene's attitude is why he left to start with, but maybe Ralph had grown up a bit these last few days, where Gene simply had no clue at all. "I get it now. There has to be a Bad Guy. I'm why they're all here." Ralph now knew that bad didn't mean 'bad'. Zangief was right. 'Bad' is a label for the players, meaning no more than 'left' or 'up'. He'd heard that some were programmed to the core. That they were bad to their very bones, in or out of their games. But most were like the BadAnon group he had only recently met… they understood the needs of the games, and their part to play. The Bad Guy was no more or less than the Hero… without one, the other is useless.
He looked up as a shadow fell across the screen, which meant… "Psst! Felix!", Ralph hissed across the front yard.
Time to go to work.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Vanellope walked into the throne room of the castle. She had only a shadowy memory of the castle at all. She knew where all the original rooms were, but so much felt out of place. Sour Bill had put Duncan in charge of getting all traces of King Candy removed, but it didn't appear to be necessary. The reset had erased all traces of Turbo completely. Her closet was filled with frilly, heavy gowns, which Vanellope frowned at, and some interesting things, like the white racing outfits. Regardless of her proclamation that she wasn't a Princess, she couldn't help but "Ooooohhhh" over a chest of tiaras, necklaces, and other royal jewelry that had been in her dressing room. After a life of hiding, and scavenging bits and pieces for her 'home', she was impressed, and a bit overwhelmed, at everything that was hers now.
Restored to the walls were paintings that Turbo had removed. Mostly of her in some lacey, ponderous gown. There was the pink gown, the silver one, the pale blue one… and one slim-fitting white one, which she thought; "That would help my figure… if I had one.", as she looked down her rather slim, child-like frame. Then she saw the other painting. She had no idea at the time, but it was the look that Ralph had seen before. She was in her white racing suit, her hair in her standard pony-tail. She was sitting in her… the Princess's car, her arm raised, with a smile, almost a smirk of supreme confidence on her face. "I wish I felt half that confident now.", she thought. She decided that that painting she would give to Ralph. She could always be with him that way, if no other.
She was still programmed to be the Princess, regardless of her wishes. The Princess announced the start of the race. The Princess explained the demo. The small space behind the curtain in the Royal Box was for her to change quickly to her racing outfit if the Princess was chosen as a racer. The Princess drove the Royal Race Car, which, while nice, didn't feel like 'hers'.
"Princess this… Princess that…" How could she still be 'just' Vanellope? There must be a way to be herself sometimes. She wanted her cart. Her clothes. What she knew as her life. She couldn't just throw it all away and forget the…
"Wait.", she thought. "I was tired. I was mad all the time. I couldn't even race. I had to hide to stay out of the fungeon. What was so great about my life before today? Why do I even care about that?"
"Time to get ready, your Highness.", came the drone of Sour Bill. Vanellope jumped and squealed a bit as he spoke from behind her.
"You've got to stop that!" Vanellope informed him, her hands on her hips as her heart returned to a more normal rhythm. She then followed him back to her rooms, to get ready to start the day.
One thought did stay with her, though. In a storeroom downstairs, Duncan had found the train car. Turbo had hidden it to discourage any hint of anyone getting any ideas. Not a part of the original programming, it had not reset with the game. Winchell, Duncan, and some of the racers had hooked it up to a few carts, and run it up the rainbow road to the station last night.
For the first time in her life, she could step outside her game. "I could see Ralph!" Was the thought that lifted her spirits for another day.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Sergeant Calhoun stood in front of her platoon. She felt strangely happy this morning, so she had to really concentrate to put on her 'war face' for the troops.
She laughed with the others at the telling of Markowski's story. Apparently, he had come stumbling into the barracks in the morning wearing nothing but a pair of ornate red briefs. His tale of being attacked, stripped of his armor, and locked in a storage closet had some of the men enraged, and ready to go out for revenge on the person who dared attack one of their own. Markowski was going on about "This HUGE guy, with fists the size of cybugs!" that, after a long, drawn out hand-to-hand battle, had resulted in his embarrassing state.
Tamora suspected it wasn't quite as bad as he put on, though. What she didn't need was a squad of armed Space Marines crashing through Game Central, looking for Wreck-it. Ralph was a good Joe, and she respected his courage immensely. It was one thing to hear men talk about how brave they are, but she saw Ralph sacrifice himself for the girl… the only person who couldn't escape the game. His feelings for her must have been deep. You don't regenerate outside your game. She also saw this tiny girl face the entire cybug horde because Ralph was in danger. There was something there, something she herself was just now starting to believe in. Calhoun had been prepared to leave the girl, to go back to her world, because she didn't know what else to do. She had felt out of her depth. The only thought was to blow the tunnel and sacrifice the game… and that brave little girl.
So she would have none of this 'get Ralph' talk. She was beginning to think something new. She had a small glimmer of hope that feelings could be real. Ralph worked with Felix, and she would not let that game be in jeopardy.
"Markowski!" She yelled, "Come see me immediately after the arcade closes. And all liberty is secured until after 2000 formation!". She needed to stop this before it starts, or there would be a lot of 'not regenerating'. Bad, too, is that it would delay her seeing Felix. After a night of reflection… "Reflection, get it?" she thought, almost smiling in front of the men, remembering the night staring in the mirror, trying to remember what is real and what isn't in her mind… and her heart.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Felix had been distracted all day. Even though the his movements were completely controlled during a game by the players, there were small things he could do, usually to help the smaller, new ones.
But today, he had missed an easy jump to a shelf with a nice, fresh pie sitting on it, and instead of getting the temporary 'brick-proofing' which would help the player get another level, he caught a brick to the head. The player didn't notice this, though, and just thought they were the tiniest bit slow. Felix had to concentrate to being prompt after that, since he didn't want to be the reason for the game to be declared 'Out of Order'.
Felix had seen Ralph smiling a bit today, something he couldn't remember since… well, he couldn't remember at all. Ralph had a right to be pleased. He had watched Ralph zoom off to the mountain, through the swarm of cybugs, for Miss Vanellope. Right smart girl, that one. Ralph got himself a Princess, by golly. Now that he knew Ralph more than he ever had, even after thirty years, and his anger at being ignored and hated, he could not hold a grudge to him, even for leaving the game. Ralph had simply wanted the smallest bit of kindness and acknowledgement that he had lived his game well. Felix could see now. It was a new thing to look at the world through another mind. He had always been loved, pampered, even idolized by the Nicelanders for being the one who repaired everything and stopped Ralph every day.
In Sugar Rush, after the game had reset, Felix had really been worried for a moment. Miss Vanellope had hugged Ralph, and offered him a place in her castle. Felix now understood the mental punishment Ralph had endured for decades, and he thought for a second that Ralph, looking down at her resting in his hand, would accept. That would have been the death of Fix-it Felix, Jr., no doubt about it.
He was worried about himself and Miss Tamora, but he needed to make the effort to ensure Ralph gets his share of respect, too.
And thinking of Miss Tamora, which he couldn't not do today, he thought about the coming day off, and what he would do. Could it work? Felix knew that he had to do his best. He had never, in his dreams, imagined a character like her. Over the years, he had hung out, gone to parties, and seen hundreds of friends, and quite a few girls, but this one was something different.
And just as soon as he figured out why, and how, he was going to do something about it.