Archive of Our Own ^beta

He was broken. Their game was broken.

It had been since it was plugged in.

The part of his code that told him he liked winning was broken. It made him obsess over it.

It was all he could think about, it was all he liked, and it hurt.

He had kind-of friends. The twins from his game (Twist and Turn), Felix, some of the other leads.

But it rarely mattered to him. All he cared about was winning, and it made him more scared than even dying outside his game did.

Felix used to bring him pies, and he had always given them to the twins, saying it “wasn't his style.”

His code was always running, the broken one. He couldn't ever think of anything else. He had forgotten his kind-of friends’ names more than he used to (he wasn't ashamed to admit that the only names he ever tried to commit to memory were the twins’ and Felix’s. It usually didn't stick.)

It hadn't used to be so all-consuming, had it? Maybe it multiplying was part of the problem? Or was it all in his head?

Fixing himself, their game, had become his second priority (the first was winning, and it had just become worse the longer he stayed plugged in.) and as such, he spent all his waking hours either practicing or learning how to code.

Tapper had told him it was a dangerous thing, recoding his game, and Turbo knew.

But he was going to lose it if that line of code wasn't fixed, and soon.

Felix stopped coming around, the twins spent more time hanging around each other than him, the other leads stopped talking to him, and Turbo understood.

He wouldn't be able to stand himself either if he was like this.

—

It hurt. Oh god, it hurt.

Tearing through his code, trying to fix the error, burned more than anything he'd experienced ever before.

Twist, (or was it Turn?) had been helping him out with this, and the moment he started glitching was the moment she tried to pull him out of the room.

Turbo held on by sheer force of will, yelling at Turn (or Twist?) to stop pulling, please stop pulling, that hurt even more oh god please-

And it was done. He was done tearing at it.

As one of the twins pulled him in, he realized something.

He just felt worse.

–

Turbo couldn't help the jealousy that he felt.

Roadblasters had been stealing Turbotime’s thunder for a few weeks now.

He wouldn'tve minded so much, but the code told him it was the worst thing he'd ever experience.

The code told him to take back what was his.

He didn't want to. It happens. Games get out-competed in graphics or gameplay all the time.

But the code told him he'd never win again. The code told him that he should always win. He was Turbo, the greatest racer ever.

The code told him to take back what was his.

And so he did.

–

Turbo regretted it all. He regretted it all when he'd stolen King Candy (He wasn't thinking. And King Candy wanted to keep his grand-daughter safe.) He'd regretted it all when he usurped Vanellope (She really was such a sweet kid.) And he regretted it all when he tried to kill her to try and take what was never his to begin with.

But the code screamed at him. Told him he had to do this. He's gotten this far.

Win win win win win win win win win win win win-

And then there was nothing. He had been swallowed whole by the light, with the rogue Cybug AI (he hated that stupid bug), with King Candy (who would surely regenerate, he hoped.), and with that stupid piece of broken code.

And the last thing he'd thought of as he was deleted was “Good riddance.”