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Wreck-It Ralph:

AU: The Bad Racer

“My name is Vanellope von Schweets, and I'm a villain. To get specific, I’m the “bad racer” of Sugar Rush. Yeeeaaah, so... I'm a professional racer, duh. Don’t mean to brag or anything, but I’m a pretty good one; probably the best in the game--uh, sorry.

“A thing is, I’m a NPC. I’m just there as another obstacle, really. I bump and launch stuff – rockets, pies, you name it – at the other racers, to make things more interesting, ya know? But… that doesn’t always make you Miss Popular. I mean, if the player manages to blast me off the track, they get like, a bagillion bonus points, so you can’t imagine how many times they’ve taken shots at me and how many times I’ve landed in those stupid, stupid chocolate lakes! Oh, and it gets better! I get thrown in the Fungeon after every race, “Oh! Let’s all laugh and cheer at the ten-year-old getting thrown crying in jail!” Uh, got a little caried away there, sorry. Anyway, when the other racers like King Candy or Taffyta win the race, they get themselves a gold coin. But, are there gold coins for me if I win? To that, I say, ha! And no, there aren't, just some bad music a big ‘GAME OVER’ on the screen.

“I’ve been doing this gig for fifteen years, and sure, Sugar Rush is still very popular and a steady, popular arcade gig’s nothing to turn your nose up at, I’m pretty lucky. It’s just, seriously, it gets kinda hard to love your job... when pretty much everyone else hates you for doing it.

“I dunno, maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal if things were different when work’s done. But it’s not: the other races go hang out around the castle, going to all the parties, and me? I go back to my place, which happens to be Diet Cola Mountain. There’s this incomplete track inside it – I think it was meant to be a bonus level – I dunno, it doesn’t matter. It may not be the castle, but hey, it’s got its comforts. I mean, I never go thirsty, that’s for sure. But... if you guys want me to be honest, when I look down or I’m taking a drive and I see the other racers down there, patting each other on the back, having a lot of fun, so happy to see each other. Sometimes I think... man, it sure must be nice being a hero.”

When Vanellope finished her speech, it was met with a round of applause by her fellow arcade villains. She was sitting down on a collapsible chair in a circle of over a dozen other villains, or ‘bad guys’, in a square rectangular grey room in which a banner hung from the wall reading ‘BAD-ANON: One Game at a Time’.

Never before did Vanellope think it would ever come to this. She had felt low before when it came to her game and her designated role, but tonight, she felt like she just needed someone to talk to about it. That was what Bad-Anon, held in the ghost pen of Pac-Man was technically for and by the looks of the villains here, the likes of M Bison, Zangief, Dr. Eggman, King Dedede and Eggplant Wizard, she was not the only one.

“Nice share, Vanellope,” said Clyde, the orange Pac-Man ghost and the organizer of the support group. “But I want to assure you, you’re not alone. As fellow video game villains, or just “bad guys” as some of us prefer, we've all felt what you're feeling and we've come to terms with it.”

Vanellope raised her eyebrow. “Really?”

Another villain raised his hand and spoke up, this time Zangief from Streetfighter II, in his thick Russian accent, “Right here. I am Zangief, I am bad guy.”

“Hi Zangief,” replied the members of Bad-Anon, Vanellope less enthusiastically than the others.

“I relate to you, Vanellope,” said the large, hairy professional wrestler. “When I hit bottom, I was crushing man's skull like sparrow eggs between by thighs!” He gave his bare thigh a slap and the other members chuckled lightly. “And I think, why do you have to be so bad, Zangief? Why can't you be more like good guy? Then I have moment of clarity... if Zangief is good guy, who will crush man's skull like sparrow's eggs between thighs? And I say, “Zangief you are bad guy, but this does not mean you are bad guy”, or... girl, in your case.”

This statement received murmurs of agreement from the other villains, but Vanellope found herself confused.

“Right, uh... I’m sorry, what?”

Another villain, Cyrill the Zombie, suddenly popped up from next to her, “Zombie! Bad guy!” He exclaimed in his slurred speech due to his rotting jaw.

“Hi Zombie. “

He continued, bullets on saliva flying over the half-pint racer, “Zangief saying labels not make you happy. Good, bad, nggghhhh... you must love you!”

“Yeah!” Kano the cyborg performed a Heart-rip Fatality on Cyrill. He held the dripping rotting heart up for everyone to see. “Inside here!”

“Wow, wow!” She held her hand to her mouth to stop herself from gagging. “I get the point. Put that thing back, it’s dripping.”

“Question, Vanellope,” Clyde suddenly asked. “We've been asking you to Bad-Anon for quite some years now, and tonight you finally show up. Why is that?”

A wave of anxiety came over Vanellope as all eyes turned on her once more. She feared this question would come up at some point and it was only going to hurt more trying to answer it.

She picked up her coffee cup from the floor and took a sip after scoffing, “ I’m on a sugar low.” This earned herself a few laughs from her fellow villains.

“Seriously, Vanellope.”

She sighed and slumped in her chair, tugging at a peppermint in her raven hair. “I dunno, I just felt like swinging by tonight. I mean... I guess maybe it’s got something to do with uh... today being Sugar Rush’s 15th anniversary.”

Although most of them could tell this was not as happy an occasion as it should have been for the racer, they did try to be supporting and congratulate her regardless.

“Happy anniversary, Vanellope,” Ludwig von Koopa, the eldest of the Mario Koopalings who happened to be sitting next to her said, patting a brownish claw on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Junior.”

“Uh, it's "Ludwing". Bowser Junior is my little brother.”

Vanellope could not help but snigger, “What, and you’re the oldest? Woah, talk about playing your favourites, eh, Bowser?” She half-joked to the older, larger koopa, but shut up immediately when she saw that neither looked particularly amused. “Yeah, uh, heh… sorry.”

“Well, Vanellope, it is quite normal for these feelings to surface at times like these.” Clyde turned and nudged towards a villain, a 9-feet-tall, red-headed giant with freakishly big hands who had been sitting in silence the whole meeting with a face like a wet weekend. “Ralph, or Wreck-It Ralph here is soon to celebrate his game’s 30th and it’s taken many years to convince him to come to Bad-Anon.”

The two did not need any introduction.

“Hey, Ralph.”

Ralph barely mumbled back, “Hey, Schweets.”

But now Vanellope wanted to get to the point, something she had long yearned to get off her chest. She knew they were not going to like it in the slightest.

“But... here's the thing, you guys... I really don’t wanna be the villain anymore.”

The Bad-Anon members gasped, obviously shocked by such a bold statement; Clyde went blue and Bowser coughed up a burst of flames from his mouth. Wreck-It Ralph was the only one who did not look that flabbergasted, but rather taken by surprised and at that point appeared more interested in the meeting than he had been the whole night.

“Woah woah, slow down there, Vanellope!” King Hippo put his gloved hands up as if the racer was talking crazy, which to him, she pretty much was. “You can't mess with the program. It’s who you are!”

“You're not going Turbo, are you?” M Bison asked coldly, pointing a suspicious finger at her. The looks on most of the other villains’ faces indicated they shared this sentiment.

“Turbo? Ugh, no!” She slapped her forward in frustration, though she had expected this kind of reaction. “No, Bison I'm not going Turbo! Come on, you guys, why’ve we gotta tie it back to that wacko? I want a change, or maybe just some respect from the other racers! Or the players even! I mean, this one kid broke his hand when he banged the screen when I showed up! What does that say?!”

“It says that kid’s the one with problems, not you,” Dr. Eggman replied, looking down and stirring his coffee.

For the first time that night, Ralph decided to throw in his two cents. “Hey, c’mon, guys. Maybe she’s got a point here.” Everyone turned to look at him in surprise as he continued. “All Vanellope wants is a little respect and honestly... I can kinda relate to that. I mean, what’s “Turbo” anyway? Is it "Turbo" to want a friend? Or a coin or medal? Or a piece of pie every once and awhile? Is it "Turbo" to want more out of life?”

“Thank you!” sighed an exasperated Vanellope. Finally, someone who gets it!

“Guys, guys, we get it,” Clyde said soothingly, establishing order back to the group. “But like King Hippo said, it’s who we are, that can’t be changed. You have to accept and learn to deal with that fact, Vanellope, because once you do the better off your game and your life will be.”

“One game at a time, Vanellope,” nodded Zangief.

“Now let's close out the with Bad Guy affirmation.”

All the Bad-Anon members arose from their seats and joined hands, along with the more reluctant Vanellope and Ralph as the group chanted its creed:

“I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be then me.”

“Okay, gang, see you next week.”

With that, the meeting was adjourned and the villains began exiting the ghost pen, heading out into the maze and to the train back into Game Central Station.

When they got aboard the train, Ralph was the last to arrive before they left. He sat down between Zangief and Vanellope, carrying in his hands two large cherries. The candy girl eyed them curiously.

“Where’d you get those?”

“They were lying around,” he answered nonchalantly.

“You know he’s not gonna let you through with ‘em.”

“I’ll get around it. I always do with him.”

The train ride back to the station was awkwardly quiet but quick, but when they reached the gate of the Pac-Man game (where Ralph managed to manoeuvre past security with his cherries), Vanellope felt compelled to speak to him as they made their way back to their respective games.

“Hey, Ralph.”

The towering giant of a man stopped and looked behind him, then down to see the tyke racer standing there.

“Yeah?”

“Listen, uh…” she rubbed the back of her neck as she struggled to the find the words. “Thanks for having my back back there.”

“Well, don’t mention it. It’s tough out there,” he told her, before sighing heavily and rolling his eyes. “Trust me, I know.”

“Wanna go to Tappers or something?”

“Ehhh... maybe later. I got some stuff to do at my game first, ya know?”

“Sure.”

After another awkward moment of silence, they departed from each other, Ralph muttering, “See ya, kid. Happy anniversary.”

For a while, Vanellope stood there in the station. She was nearly knocked into by some other characters before she forced herself to trudge towards the gate which read overhead in big red text, 'Sugar Rush'

She knew Ralph would be at Tappers at some that night, he always was. Maybe she could buy him a root beer. She always preferred to drink with someone instead of by herself and tonight, she was going to need more than ever.