AN: This story lives! I live! It will be finished!

All my thanks to my lovely wife aurorawest for editing this chapter and offering great advice and suggestions. And for catching a glaring mistake and for just being the best.

And thank you to you for reading this - if you've come back to it after its long hiatus or are reading it for the first time, I appreciate it a lot!

16. Resurrection

'Well, things certainly are looking Turbo-tastic in here, aren't they?'

If Surge hadn't been completely paralyzed and pixelating away into oblivion, he would have taken his time responding to that.

He would have internally apologized to Ralph that his last words wouldn't end up being for him after all. He'd then treat Turbo to a look of wide-eyed fake wonder and ask him out loud 'Oh are they? Are they really? Because they don't look too rosy from where I am, but then again what do I know?'

Then his face would morph into something terrible, like blue bottled lightning finally set free, and while everyone gasped in awe Turbo would shake and collapse into dust where he stood, and he'd magnanimously accept their heartfelt gratitude with nothing more than a slight dip of his head.

That deluded indulgence scuttled away immediately, embarrassed it had taken up so much time.

In his immobile state - as events and players pivoted and progressed around him - all Surge could actually do was dissolve and die and remember.

Like a wicked sharp needle appearing in the hands of a cheerful doctor who has just promised you they were empty, Surge felt himself pierced with memory.

His sensors were imploding through starvation, and this memory presented itself intertwined with the assumed perception of another.

TurboTime had been newly plugged in, and its lead character was arriving in Grand Central Station for the first time.

Turbo had crept his kart along his game's tunnel to the entrance of the Station and coasted it to a stop. After all four tyres had finished their rotations, he shifted into neutral and put the handbrake on. Then he took one final look around - no-one was behind, and everyone was in front.

Without hesitation he slammed his foot down on the accelerator and made his kart roar.

All the characters milling about the Station that day simultaneously froze, as their attention snapped towards this unexpected sound. Turbo adjusted his feet and released the handbrake. Then he flexed and tightened the fingers of one gloved hand, until he heard the bleached white leather crack.

And then he shot his factory fresh kart like a rocket into the very centre of them.

Maybe Turbo wanted to push the engine as far as it could go, and make it whine into the red before he changed gears. He wanted to deliberately bypass the optimal time to change gears not because he was negligent, but because he was the opposite.

But the finite space in front of him permitted only one gear change, which was done at the earliest opportunity.

Screams rang out just as Turbo stomped his foot down on the brake and turned the wheel with both hands and downshifted and missed colliding with someone by an inch, by a centimeter, the now huddled crowd a blur of colours and shapes as TurboTime's main character drove in carefree circles around them.

His arrival now amply witnessed, Turbo brought the kart to a perfect screeching stop. After killing the ignition and performing a cursory check that all systems were functioning - engine pedals handbrake hood mirrors all four tyres and exhaust - he turned to face his audience, hands on his hips and legs planted firmly.

His yellow eyes roved like spotlights, relentlessly cataloguing everything around him, as he surveyed the Station like a conqueror.

He was red and white and gleaming, a star in the centre of a brand new world.

An eruption of hushed whispering spread throughout the crowd. Turbo catalogued them quickly - a handful were still fighting down anxiety, but most of them were now excited. He had driven a technological marvel right up to their noses, and now they were really looking at him.

He pulled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, drinking in the now appreciative murmurs. And although he stood immobile, his eyes never settled. They rolled like obsidian marbles in a bile yellow sky.

And they came to rest on the one person who appeared the polar opposite of impressed.

'Sir, you cannot drive your kart around the Station in the manner you just demonstrated,' Surge admonished him with a crisp sourness. 'It is unsafe, unwise, unappreciated, in direct violation of seven regulations that regrettably you have not yet had the opportunity to study and, with all due respect, I must strongly insist that you cease and desist your current behaviour with immediate effect.'

Surge's face was tight, and he looked the part of a stern jobsworth delivering a familiar lecture. But Turbo could instinctively tell that none of it came naturally to him.

'Did you just say sir to me?' Turbo responded in fake wonder. 'Oh I'm going to like it around here!'

Surge's face twitched, and he slowly reached into his shirt pocket to retrieve his ballpoint pen.

'I can assure you I would never dream of breaking any of the Stations' important regulations!' Turbo put one hand over his heart. 'The very thought is anathema to my 8-bit-tastic code.'

Surge pushed down on the top of his pen slowly, and the royal blue ink cartridge deployed with a crisp and reassuring click.

The crowd had shuffled closer now. They were looking at Turbo with admiration, and at his kart with the beginnings of poorly masked greed. Those that were not ignoring Surge were eyeing him sideways, and tilting their heads to whisper to their neighbour.

Turbo considered the unique mix of interesting characters that already seemed to openly adore him. Then he thought about the uncomfortably uptight protector of the entire arcade, who was fiddling with a cheap pen and wondering if he should make eye contact or not.

He thought for a second more, and then he made a decision.

He walked towards Surge, and noted a pluck of confusion play throughout the crowd. He studiously ignored them, and felt his shoulders relax.

'Would you like a ride in it?' he asked Surge pleasantly, gesturing to his kart behind him.

'What?' Surge blurted out. The surprise in his face was instantly copied in different shapes and colours.

'I want to demonstrate the safety of my kart to you,' Turbo explained. 'You're-' he flicked his eyes briefly to the crowd and then back again. He then lowered his voice slightly, but only slightly. 'You're the only one here who could possibly understand if it would pass inspection or not.'

Surge's face twitched again, and he worked hard not to do anything out of reluctantly adopted character.

There was a buzz of irritation from the crowd, and Turbo lowered his voice even further.

'Your evaluation would be the best and since I'm the best, I only want to be associated with the same.'

Turbo waited a generous four seconds, and then he began to walk backwards towards his kart. Everyone else scuffed forward while Surge stayed where he was, forcing some characters to break around him like waves on a rock.

He shuffled some papers one-handed on his clipboard, and didn't say a word.

'Racing is everything,' Turbo continued, as he spoke to Surge as if they were the only beings in existence. 'It's my purpose, it's in my code, and I will do whatever it takes to be the greatest racer ever.' He stopped pacing backwards, and came to rest an inch away from his kart. The bodywork was gleaming, and the engine still radiated heat.

Still Surge didn't say a word.

Turbo drummed his fingers on his kart behind him.

'OK then,' Turbo said kindly, as if he was responding to an answer Surge had actually given him. 'I apologise.' He took a slow glance around at all the characters, and then looked Surge in the eyes. 'I'll let you get back to your friends, and won't take up any more of your time.'

Surge swallowed, and clicked his pen on and off and on and off and on and someone in the background snorted and someone else disguised an exclamation with a fake cough and Surge clicked the pen off and jammed it back into his pocket.

'This performance test of yours,' Surge asked sharply, as he tried and failed to be as commanding as the person he was addressing. 'Do you intend to continue driving around the Station? Do you intend to drive fast?'

Turbo twisted and jumped into his kart, his feet and hands landing precisely to ignite and prime it. He revved the engine and opened the door. 'I need a true test of my kart's capabilities. I need to evaluate what it does against what it should, and I have to judge if it meets the necessary core coding parameters that have been established to permit optimum performance and functionality.'

Turbo revved the engine again, and grinned wickedly over the sound. 'And because I think it will be fun!'

Surge couldn't work hard or fast enough to prevent his face from expressing something positive, and he knew that it was too late now because Turbo had seen it and they both knew what he was going to do.

'Just don't drive so fast you crash into anyone out here and kill them,' Surge warned him, as he carefully placed his clipboard on the floor and began to walk towards the waiting kart. 'I haven't perfected the neutral regeneration matrix yet, and I don't want to spend time completing paperwork that could otherwise be easily avoided.'

And now, decades later, Turbo was once again in complete control of his surroundings.

This time Surge was melded to the Station's floor and, instead of nervously looking forward to choosing one of many paths in front of him, he was being shunted backwards down the only one left.

Twin shutters of black were lowering in front of his eyes and numbers were crawling down them. Neon green and blood red digits scratched at each other, as Surge's evolved consciousness continued to resist his pre-programmed shutdown.

These numbers snapped unhappily at his positive black and white core ones, which could never be erased and would never be re-created.

There was a thick foam of quantum data consuming him and he was bleeding into the grid and he was suffocating.

There was a bone deep ache of a temptation to let the negative numbers win, because then it could all be over with. He could dissolve with the clear conscious knowledge that he'd remained defiant until the very end, and had finally stood up to himself and fought back. The others could handle Turbo and clean up, and he had no doubt they would do an excellent job because he knew they were excellent people. He may never have told them so, but he knew it to be true.

But there was also an itching desire, like a freshly caught sunburn, to help the positive ones win. To keep fighting. To keep striving so that he could somehow, somehow, come back from the brink and help and save the day. And as he defied the odds he'd somehow rise and stand with feet anchored to the grid and burn and spark and scowl and punch Turbo right in his awful face.

As if Surge had unwittingly spoken those thoughts out loud, Turbo grinned and gave him a small thumbs up with an ungloved hand.

And with his sodium yellow smile in perfect place, Turbo compressed his winner's salute into a tight fist, adjusted his angle, and punched Surge hard into the very center of his chest.

Faintly and distantly, Surge was able to liken the attack to that of a device exploding underwater – it was clean and sudden and there was a whoooomp of a submersed compression wave.

Turbo's closed fist sprang open and his fingers spread like barbs, which retracted a drawbridge and opened a gate and released four matte black torpedoes.

Almost immediately upon entry they divided and fragmented into streams, into eels, jagged lines of code that shot away in different directions from their impact site. These invaders ate through Surge like a fire, down to what remained of his feet and along his arms, his injured hand, his broken construction an empty ghost of a highway as they sought what they were programmed to find and ignored what called after them. They orbited his head and prodded at his heart and maybe they'd find everything or maybe they wouldn't it was impossible to think right now he was fading, fading away, and even though they were quick they weren't quick enough; he existed at the speed of light but they just weren't fast enough and he didn't know what they'd do or what they could do he may have suspected or he may not have, he couldn't find the words and couldn't stop a thing.

0.003

0.004

0.005

They might not succeed he might not succeed, I could live or die and this is all submission and rage and relief and hope and ah, god, the hope.

0.006

0.007

0.008

0.00-

The frictionless velocity of time measured at this magnitude then suddenly stopped; it dropped off a cliff; it ceased to progress as a signal reverberated back along all searched pathways.

If sound existed there would have been a click and then another click, as a triumphant eel swished its tail one final time to complete its report. The black binary intelligence then stretched its jaws wide and, gently, so very gently, bit down on a fracturing piece of code.

And with less fanfare than he would have liked, Surge knew that he was saved.

All the other eels instantly dissolved into clouds of black crystalline mist.

The stuttering pile of binary the winner had found was the keystone of Surge's internal power generator. It was the place where all higher and lesser instructions related to control and maintenance and actuality originated from and flowed through. It was crippled, and facing annihilation with a cracked and defiant face.

The eel encompassed it in its teeth, locked down its jaws, and swallowed it.

And resurrected it.

A cube of densely compressed power was infused into the keystone, the sum total of the glittering black invaders that had now congealed into one point. The core code bucked and sparked pure blinding white.

Then its incandescence diminished slightly, to that of a deep space star, and it began to pulse.

It sent out long and short ranging signals to rebuild and reconstruct and above it all, within it all, was an unwavering scream to refuel now now now now now just refuel now there isn't time there isn't ti-

_%0.00004_

_%0.0009_

?

_%0.002

_%0.06

_%1_

?_xtrnl pwr ply dtctd_?

_%1.05_

_%1.37_

_%1.99_

_%2_

_External Power Supply Detected_

_%2.7_

_%4.5_

_%7.9_

_distance/height/breadth/width/depth Total Sum Expansion Amplified_

_%14_

_%29_

_%48_

_%77_

_%95_

_Approaching Capacity Limit_

!

_%99_

!

_%100_

!

|_Refuel Complete_|

!

+_Power Restored_+

_SYSTEM ONLINE_

With a gasp, Surge resurfaced and refocused and realigned.

'You're here!' He spluttered to Turbo, who was still looming red and white and achingly bright over him.

'And you are welcome,' Turbo replied warmly, as he stretched out his arm and offered his bare hand.

'No he's not!' Calhoun barked immediately, taking one step forward as she looked at Turbo in disgust. 'He's not welcome for anything!'

Turbo flicked his eyes sideways, and deigned to grant her a whole half second's worth of silent attention.

Calhoun made a sound under her breath. She adjusted her stance and looked down at Surge, her hard-line expression almost unaltered. 'And you need to pull the plug on this little pity party of yours post haste! Then you're gonna pack his bags, kick him out, wipe dry your big boy tears and then you will answer me straight when I ask you again what has been happening around here.'

As if he'd left his body and was now watching someone else perform his actions, Surge saw himself rise effortlessly to his feet to stand solidly in his Station once more.

With studious calm, Turbo retracted his arm and clasped both hands behind his back.

Surge was burning with energy and purpose and pure unfiltered relief and, before anyone could say another word – before he could even think about what he was doing – he locked eyes with Calhoun and spat at her 'For once in your life why don't you just shut the hell up.'

Everyone inhaled sharply, and Surge's eyes widened in horror.

Oh, what? Where did that come from?

What could have been a cackle or a smash of glass or a round of sharp solitary applause or all of them or none of them faded into static, as a steady pressure began to build in Surge's ears.

From yourself of course, where else! What do you think you're-

?_Abstraction Filter Decay Status_?

/_Deterioration Progressing_/

… …

…

...

..

.

/_Corrosion Terminal_/

/_residual bandwidth isolated_/

:_Locks Engaged_:

!_Decay Complete_!

_Abstraction Filter Reset_

OH WHAT?

Surge felt a punch of panic and, before Calhoun could scream bloody murder at him, he immediately launched into an emergency self-diagnostic.

_100%_Volume Charge Density

_100%_Surface Charge Density

_100%_Linear Charge Density

_100%_Electric Field

_100%_Electric Flux

_100%_Electric Moment

_100%_Electric Potential Voltage

_100%_Current

_100%_Charge

_100%_Capacitance

_100%_Internal Power_100%

Internal Power level 100% ah yes that's how it should be, one zero zero right up there, right where it belongs!

This is great this is fantastic everyone should feel like this all the time, and to think I was ever worried about dying of course I wasn't ever going to I was always going to be fine, that was just something that-

SHUT UP AND FOCUS

_100%_Magnetic Moment

_100%_Magnetic Field

_100%_Magnetic Flux

_100%_Torque

_100%_Density

_100%_Impulse

_100%_Dynamic Viscosity

_100%_Angular Velocity

_100%_Linear Momentum

_100%_Surface Tension

_100%_Elasticity Modulus

Everything's looking perfect, I don't think there's anything wrong at all with-

_15%_Non-Sinusoidal Voltage Wave

You just had to curse yourself didn't you, you just had to go and do it I can't believe you thought that-

_9%_Alternating Current Circuit Separation

_14%_Verbal Suppression

_5%_Crossover Network Rigidity

_87%_Fundamental Waveform Frequency

_89%_Higher Harmonic Amplification

_8.5%_Abstraction Filter Efficacy

Ah, NO.

Surge felt a slosh of bile in his stomach, and really hoped it stayed down.

The abstraction filter was part of his natural design. It was the equivalent of the evolutionary advantage most higher life forms had inherited - a permeable barrier that prevented too many negative words from leaving his mouth.

Surge wasn't a simpleton who couldn't self-reflect without having to start a self-help group to cope with such earth shattering realizations - he knew that he thought unpleasant things about others at times, and knew that he shouldn't say them out loud. So over the years he'd built up his filter to contain them.

But he'd kept on adding to it, until it had become nearly impenetrable. Without realising it, he'd turned it into an armoured plated wall that propped up a rotten core.

He didn't act on his rare impulses to rashly set off a charge to destroy it all, and he ignored the regular dull aches that pleaded with him to carefully remove one brick at a time, just one, one wouldn't be too bad now would it?

The years advanced, and he did nothing.

And next to nothing was what you became.

Surge wrenched himself back to the present and forced himself to focus.

The blank look had been wiped off his face, signaling his return to the reality everyone else was experiencing. Calhoun's mouth was open and ready to let rip but she didn't get the chance, because without looking at her Surge shot his arm out ramrod straight for her to STOP and she did, she did and she just looked at his commanding signal his upright open palm and she didn't say one word and didn't move one muscle and-

-and she's going to kill you later on, she will literally kill you in your sleep.

'What did you do to me?' Surge shouted at Turbo, his words surprising only one of them.

'My old friend!' Turbo beamed brightly, as his eyes roved from one person to another. 'I saved your life, that's what!'

'That's what happened,' Surge said tightly. 'But what-did-you-do?'

Turbo's movements slowed but didn't stop, like a kart ignited but not in gear.

'How does it feel?' he asked instead. Surge knew at once what he meant, and knew that Turbo knew he knew it.

Surge felt his outstretched arm begin to tremble.

Don't answer him.

Why not?

You know he's not going to give you a straight answer this early on no matter how you ask it.

He should answer me - he needs to answer me!

What you need and what you're going to get are two very different things.

…

He's not going to speak first you know.

'…like I've been cheated,' Surge finally said.

A fluorescent red light flickered from a game's barricaded entrance, and Turbo blinked at him. 'Cheated?'

'You cheated,' Surge repeated bluntly, as he curled his open palm into a fist.

'Hhhhmmmm?'

Surge's fist curled tighter. 'You cheated me out of myself!'

Turbo tilted his head and looked at Surge with concerned pity, not all of it fake. 'Why I don't know what you mean! I helped you.'

'Helped?- How did you help me?'

'I removed a part of yourself that you had grown to hate and depend on,' Turbo told him seriously. 'It was nearly ossified, and could very well have spread.' Then he smiled widely, and bared his teeth. 'I gave you a deep clean that was completely free of charge!'

'How did you help me?'

The wattage behind Turbo's eyes dimmed, but his smile remained fixed in place.

'You're looking good SP, very good! All bright and blue and powerful and I don't know about anyone else here, but I'm feeling extra protected from the arcade's dangers right about now!'

And all of a sudden Surge felt exhausted.

His shoulders slumped and after one, two, two and a half beats his outstretched arm collapsed, and as it hit his side he winced in expectation of what Calhoun would do.

But she said nothing; she did nothing.

That roaring fireball of joy that he would live, that he had power and was here and not dead had burned itself down. Such a state of existence was unsustainable after all, that was never in doubt - a self-replicating intelligence could not function at such high intensity forever. But Surge missed it. And he felt guilty for resenting its delumination into a pilot light.

But that pilot light was his core, and it was fierce.

Surge stood up straight and made a concerted effort not to look at Calhoun.

'You can't just take things from me you know!' He told Turbo strictly, as if he was a teacher trying to hide how exasperated he felt. 'You can't just file my filter down and change me against my will!'

Turbo raised his palms up to the ceiling, to the dark empty metallic space above them. 'I did not do anything against your will; you wanted to be changed like that!'

'Yes, but-,' Surge spluttered, as his poise floundered with embarrassing ease. 'Not in the way you did it! It was not my choice for it to happen that way – you did it without asking me!'

'Choice is overrated,' Turbo declared with a dismissive wave of a hand. 'And for someone who can literally think and move at the speed of light, you're one of the most sluggish things this arcade has ever seen.'

Turbo articulated each one of his next syllables slowly and clearly, drawing them out as if scraping his blunt nails along a sunbaked asphalt road.

'…did you want that rotten growth on your personality to remain, or did you want it removed?'

'No,' Surge bit back instantly, proud that he hadn't hesitated. 'I did not want it removed!'

He took a breath, and felt an ache begin to build throughout his core. 'I wanted it banished. Do you see the difference? I wanted to confront and defeat and banish it, chip it away and remove it by myself. It was hard, oh, it was hard, and I wasn't doing it perfectly or quickly but I was doing it. True and long-lasting change comes from within and…' Surge swallowed thickly at this. 'It took me a long time to enter into that ring, but I was prepared to go down fighting. I wanted to go down fighting, and- and that's what I did. That's how I was winning and that's how I won.'

Turbo rolled his eyes, and in that moment Surge hated him.

'I think I preferred you when you wouldn't say a word, instead of listening to all this drivel. I helped you get what you wanted and you have the nerve to complain about it!'

'But it wasn't done right! Taking hidden shortcuts just isn't right.'

'They get the job done and they're allowed! Why put them there in the first place if not to use them?' Turbo jabbed a finger at him. 'And don't dare tell me you've never taken an easy way to the end before!'

Surge took off his glasses and rubbed his face.

'Why are you so eager for a fight Mr. Protector?' Turbo asked, with a fraction more sincerity than he'd meant to show. 'Why do you want to beat yourself up so much?'

'Because of-'

You.

Me.

Everything.

'-the…'

I will not rage just because you anticipate it or want it or because it's now expected of me, not because it's there and because I could do it so easily and I bet it would feel great, you- you haven't taken it all away yet you know, you never have and you never will.

_8.5%_Abstraction Filter Efficacy

With a visible effort Surge pushed the impulse to speak his true mind down and to the side.

'…too many rules get broken in this arcade, and my job is to stop them,' Surge recited stiffly. 'It is my duty to set a law abiding example, and I have not completely fulfilled that role as mandated. But I can categorically guarantee that such an omission will be scrutinized and then rectified.'

Surge stepped shamefully back into his former rote responses, and out of the corner of his eye saw Ralph and Calhoun exchange a look.

Turbo nodded with what looked like understanding. 'Give it time Surge; I know from experience that can make a world of difference.'

'That's it!' Ralph declared loudly, as he stretched both arms out in front of him and cracked his knuckles. 'Best friend reunion is done and dusted, and now it's time to talk about something that's actually important!'

Actually important?

None of them have even asked what it is Turbo did to me! That's important and that should be discussed!

My Abstraction Filter is vital and- well OK it's not strictly vital but it is important, and maybe it's not actually necessary for me to survive and function, but they don't know that! They don't care that I'm back and that I've survived and they haven't even asked me one single thing about any of it!

Before he could stop himself Surge gave Ralph a filthy look and then immediately wished he hadn't, he really really wished he hadn't.

Ralph's best friend is dying and he's just seen two people come back from the dead, so you can't blame him for how he's reacting!

And Calhoun- well you did tell her to shut up and that's what she's still doing believe it or not, so- so along with sulking about people ignoring you, you're now going to start complaining about them obeying you as well?

'Vanellope is dying,' Ralph stressed to Surge with dark feeling. 'And you're just bickering and actually talking to him and-'

'Glitch-face isn't dying,' Turbo drawled. 'You should think better of me than that!'

Everyone's face took on a suitable expression at those words.

Turbo's pale grey face pivoted towards Surge. 'And you should think better full stop. I may be good, no great, I am great, but- but even I can't deconstruct your pacemaker and protections and kill her off completely.'

Surge felt a burn in his chest, and really hoped it was fuelled by pride instead of spite.

Turbo's face twisted wryly. 'I tried that already, remember? And it didn't work. It can't work. I learnt a lot about her code when I was in Sugar Rush. Oh yes, I learnt a lot more about codes in general, they're…fascinating, aren't they? A game's code room?'

No response. Just the soft electrical hum that continued to permeate the entire background of the Station on lockdown.

'They're fascinating and enthralling, but they're not as bright as you though Surge – they try, but they'll never get there.'

Turbo lowered his voice and gently interlocked his fingers in front of him.

'You're the embodiment of all the code, all the connections, and the rooms are just your playground. You're a ruler Surge: a leader and a guardian and the most powerful entity in this entire arcade. You should inspire awe and obedience, not irritation and neglect. You are unique, and you deserve so much better than the scraps that you exist on.'

Surge put most of his concentration into not moving one muscle, not one single muscle.

Most of the rest of his consciousness was wondering how many times Turbo had practiced that slick speech, and the last bit was raw with lamentation at that very fact.

'I've behaved badly,' Turbo deigned to admit.

Disgusted exclamations at that, but Surge found he couldn't tear his focus away from what Turbo was saying.

Finally got sucked up into his wake again, didn't you?

Shut up and concentrate.

'I've behaved badly,' Turbo repeated.

No-one uttered a trite line of acknowledgement or understanding, and Surge knew Turbo had never expected otherwise.

'I let my temper get the best of me when I crashed Road Blasters, and didn't give myself enough time to think. And then I had too much time to think before I could slip into Sugar Rush. So from one extreme to the other, it's time for me to try the middle way.'

A fairly worded speech with nothing of true substance behind it.

Surge was pleased he wasn't being sucked into that. But not so pleased that he felt that was something to celebrate.

'I want to be in this arcade, I'll make no lies about that,' Turbo continued. 'And yes I have selfish reasons, of course I do! Who wouldn't want a chance at life when the opportunity is there?' He looked hard at Surge, and Surge did not look away.

'But my selfish reasons are not the only ones – I want to make amends to the arcade and to the players and to Vanellope, I really do! I want to do the right thing this time, even if it will be difficult. And unpopular.'

His focus on Surge was like a laser.

Are you sure there's nothing of substance there?

'But I needed external help for those plans to be executed.'

Taffyta.

Surge sought her out instantly. She was now near Turbo, to the side and slightly behind him. A tight conflict of emotions were once again doing battle all over her, from her expression to her posture.

Not knowing whether to cry or to cheer.

Isn't that the truth.

'It still needs external help to be executed,' Turbo repeated. He'd repeated it firmly, as if to emphasize his point. But Surge knew instinctively it was because his attention had strayed away for just a second.

The pleasure Surge took from that was disproportionate. But his next thought wiped it away immediately.

He's not just talking about Taffyta and Sour Bill - he's talking about you.

'I've selfishly taken the top spot for too long,' Turbo continued in a more pleasant tone, now that Surge's full concentration was back on him. 'And it's led to my downfall twice. It's time for me to…not step down, but to make room to allow others the chance to take it. Not everyone deserves to be in second place for their entire lives.'

His eyes were bright and clear and programmers help them all, there was genuine truth in there now.

'And they especially do not deserve to rot away in last place for their entire lives.'

Surge finally put his glasses back on.

'…what did you do to her Turbo, what- what did you do to Vanellope?' he asked slowly, as if dreading the conclusion, as if delaying the end of his question could delay the answer and delay the reality.

'I put her into stasis,' Turbo answered simply.

'And what's your plan now?'

'To keep her out of Sugar Rush.'

The lights in the Station flickered, and Turbo's voice lowered to a level above a purr.

'And to become the King again.'