Turbo was reminded of exactly why he was miserable about half the time he was the leader of Sugar Rush when he sat in the Fungeon after arcade hours. Everyone else in the castle . . . possibly everyone else in the arcade . . . was asleep, yet Turbo was unable to. Why? The never-setting lemon sun in the sky was shining directly in his face. Not to mention the smell of candy was starting to drive him crazy.
Why this game, out of all of them? Why not something more generic like MarioKart? He silently raged at his past decision as he tried – and failed – to fall asleep with the light shining in his eyes.
Screw it! Turbo finally sighed and sat back up. How far from TurboTastic can one possibly get? I think this might be it. After a moment of serious consideration, however, he had to admit to himself, Trying to make my way out of RoadBlasters was pretty bad too. And then finding out the twins didn't make it . . . wait, I'm not supposed to care about the twins.
Turbo was being held in the cell he'd had specially created for Vanellope von Schweetz, though he wasn't wearing the shackle – the locks were enough to hold him in, it was assumed. He looked around glumly at the many clown pictures hanging around the graham cracker walls. If I never regretted anything, I regret hanging up those damn posters. They're more creepy than me. It didn't help much that Turbo had a slight – slight – fear of the big-footed creatures. What do they eat, souls? Is that the reasoning behind those red lips? Oh my code . . .
He willed himself to shut up, but it was too late – his imagination had already gotten the better of him. Everywhere he looked, he saw a damn clown! Humiliation and fear. How wonderful.
Not only that, but he'd given himself a good case of insomnia with his thoughts of soul-sucking clowns. “Turbo-Freaking-Tastic.” he grumbled to himself.
He considered just eating his way out, but the idea alone gave him a stomachache.
How long am I going to be stuck here again?
“Just until I find somebody you were friends with before you got your game unplugged, Helmet Head.” he imitated Vanellope in a shrill voice that sounded nothing like her voice. “Yeah, right. I didn't have any friends besides maybe the twins, and they're gone . . .” Turbo grumbled.
He had always been a self-centered jerk with an ego the size of Alaska, not that he'd ever admit it. He'd been programmed to be the greatest racer ever, after all. So he'd been unlikable at the best of times, from the day after TurboTime was plugged in to most likely the present day. A precious few arcadians were willing to be friendly with him, most of which were almost surely unplugged by now. The exceptions to this were Tapper and . . .
“Oh my land, it really is him!”
. . . Fix-It Felix, Jr. Who probably hated him now, since he'd tried to kill two of his best friends – one of which was his bad guy and practically his brother.
“Hello, Felix.” Turbo attempted his signature winning grin, but it only came off as a grimace.
Felix stood there awkwardly, trying to gather what to say in his head. Evidently, he decided on small talk. “So . . . how have you been, neighbor?” he gave a smile that hinted that he'd rather not be in Turbo's presence.
“Oh, you know. Got third-degree burns, thanks to your wrecker. Was in a coma in the volcano for . . .” Turbo paused. “How long ago was that?”
“Ah, then three months. Oh, and I'm locked in a dungeon with nothing to do and absolutely no sleep possible.”
“Sorry about that.” Felix's tone suggested that he wasn't sorry in the slightest.
“Whatever.” Turbo groaned.
“Remember back before RoadBlasters was plugged in?” Felix was desperate to keep a conversation going now, probably because if he didn't Vanellope would have his head on a platter. “How you and the twins would cause all sorts of drunken trouble at Tappers?”
This drudged up an involuntary smirk from Turbo. “Oh yeah. We'd have way too many root beers every Sunday and hardly be able to drive on Monday. Heck, you'd have to use your hammer on our heads a few times.”
Felix chuckled. “I couldn't fix that one nasty concussion you got in Mario Kart, though. That was it as far as game-jumping goes for you.”
“Not quite.” Turbo mumbled quietly. “So, how've you been, old friend?”
Felix visibly winced when Turbo uttered the word 'friend.' “Oh, you know. Fixin' stuff. Got married to one dynamite gal.”
Felix is married?! You know what, it doesn't matter.
Turbo was able to tune out Felix's chattering until he said something that caught his attention. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“I said, someone thinks they saw the twins in Game Central Station a few weeks ago.”