Midnight had come. Tapper's game was beginning to fill with thirsty customers, most of them villains. This meant that soon, Tapper would have his hands full with demands for drinks and food, as well as the occasional request to have someone or other thrown out of the bar. The bad guys who came to the game around this time weren't usually mean or bad-tempered, but their table manners left something to be desired, and, occasionally, tempers would flare. But it was hard for a hero to keep a lid on their feelings at the end of the day, and even harder for a bad guy.

Q*bert was thinking about these things as he stood outside the entrance to the famous bar. Acting on a previous suggestion from Ralph, he was about to enter the game and buy a drink in order to practice his English. Now, Q*bert didn't really have a need to learn English; after all, he had gotten along fine using his own language for many years. But the orange fellow was looking to branch out in the gaming world, and in order to make a decent impression, he he decided that had to at least speak a little bit of the common language.

Taking a deep breath, the miniature hero entered through the archway. Upon taking a few steps in, he noticed a bunch of rather tough-looking characters sitting on the tram. It looked to Q*bert as though they could squish him with one well-aimed punch, but he swallowed his fear and took a seat next to a tall, muscular, dark-skinned man. The tram scooted to a start, and was soon on its way towards the bar.

Upon arriving, Q*bert waited for a few moments for the tougher characters to make their way inside before hesitantly following behind them. Although the tables in the bar were much higher than him, the little orange fellow could tell by the noise level in the room that the bar was packed. He decided that he'd better take his seat quickly, before it was taken. Q*bert hopped up onto a bar seat and waited patiently for Tapper to get to him.

As Q*bert sat on the stool, he suddenly became aware of a familiar presence. Turning his head, Q*bert look to his left and was surprised to see Felix, of all people, sitting one stool apart from him, holding a glass of some unknown beverage in a gloved hand. The little orange fellow was quite taken aback at this, for Felix rarely came to Tapper's, even during less busy times. Q*bert quickly hopped over to the next seat, so he was seated right next to the sorrowful handyman.

"&^)# ?," said Q*bert; which meant, "Felix?"

Felix looked up from his drink to face Q*bert, who noted that his face seemed a bit puffy and red.

"Oh, hello, Q*bert," he said. "What brings you here?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Q*bert replied. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened," Felix said, monotonously.

"Oh, come on," Q*bert said. "You expect me to believe that you just decided to come here at the busiest time of night? Something's wrong, and I'd like to know what it is."

Felix sighed. He then looked around the room to make sure that no one was watching them or trying to listen in on their conversation. Feeling satisfied, he leaned towards Q*bert and said, in the little fellow's native language,

"I learned about Tamora's former beau. Long story short...he's a much better hero than me. I'm not even sure if Tamora really loves me..."

"Of course she loves you," said Q*bert. "She wouldn't have married you if she didn't."

"That's not really what I mean," sighed Felix. "Does she love me because she admires me? Or does she love me just because I'm nice to her?"

"It dosen't matter. Point is, she loves you, and you are currently married to the hottest woman in the arcade."

Felix turned away from Q*bert and took another sip of his drink. He winced slightly at its awful taste, but it made him feel better, so he didn't mind much.

"Think about it, Felix," said Q*bert, "You're getting yourself all worked up over nothing. You live in the lap of luxury. The nicelanders practically worship you, you live in a wonderful house, and you're married to the love of your life. What more could you possibly want?"

Felix placed his elbow on the table, and reclined his chin on his hand.

"I don't know. Peace of mind I guess. I wish I knew that people liked me for what I did more than for how I act..."

And then another thought came to the handyman's mind. Two years ago, Ralph had game-jumped to Hero's Duty, setting off a chain of events that eventually led to Felix's marriage and Q*bert getting a home. Despite his recklessness, Ralph had made himself look like a true, Hero's Duty worthy, hero. Had he not made Vanelope princess of the game that once cursed her? Or taken in the homeless characters when nobody else would? These were all things that only good guys, like Felix, were said to do, yet Ralph, a bad guy, was responsible for them. Why hadn't Felix helped out his friend or those homeless characters? Wasn't that what heroes did? But no, it took thirty years and pushing Ralph past the breaking point for something to be done.

Felix suddenly pounded his fist on the counter, surprising Q*bert and making him jump slightly. Tapper, who was serving drinks at a different table, seemed to notice Q*bert for the first time. Quickly, the bartender walked over to their counter, an empty mug in hand.

"Why, hello there, Q*bert," he said. "Never thought I'd see you in here. What can I get you?"

Q*bert coughed, prepared to speak his best English. Felix looked up from the table to see how he would do.

"Order a to like wine berry sweet," said Q*bert, proudly.

Tapper scratched his head, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, buddy. Could you say that again?"

"Order. A. To. Like. Wine. Berry. Sweet," Q*bert repeated, this time in a slower tone.

Tapper shrugged and turned to Felix. "I'm sorry, do you know what he's trying to say?"

"He'd like to order a Sweet Berry wine," Felix said, looking back down at the table.

"Ah," said Tapper, turning back to Q*bert. "Sorry, friend. Afraid I don't carry that brand anymore. Haven't carried it since '89, actually."

Q*bert raised an eyebrow. Obviously he hadn't been to Tapper's for many years, and wasn't quite up to speed on what was being served there.

"Beer, Root?" he asked.

"Root Beer? Oh sure, I got plenty of that. Just a sec," said Tapper.

The bartender rushed to the end of the counter where a large, tapped barrel was situated. After filling the mug to the top, he returned to the counter and slid it down towards Q*bert.

"Enjoy," said Tapper, before moving on to the next customer.

After looking at the mug from several angles, the little orange fellow decided that the best way to drink from the glass was to stick his nose right into it, which he proceeded to do, slurping noisily as he went. Felix continued to stare at the table, taking a sip from his drink every now and then. After a time, Q*bert pulled his nose from the mug and turned to face his friend.

"Look, Felix," he said. "If you want my advice, I suggest you go home and take a nap or something. The only way you're gonna feel better is if you calm down and force yourself to stop thinking about this stuff..."

Felix sighed heavily, pushing his mug away from him.

"I don't think it'll be that easy," he said to Q*bert. "If-"

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering and chairs being pushed around filled the air. Felix and Q*bert turned to look, and saw two men in muscle shirts grappling on the counter directly behind them. The two men seemed intent on killing each other, or at the very least, seriously injuring one another. Q*bert hopped from his stool onto the ground, ready to move out of the way if need be. But Felix, being tipsy and feeling rather lightheaded, stayed still. The two men kicked, punched and bit at each other, and most of the bar hooted and hollered in encouragement. Suddenly, one of the men seemed to gain the upper hand. He swung his arm backwards towards the wall before delivering a powerful punch to the face of his helpless adversary. The beaten man was thrown across the room, knocking Felix from his stool and onto the ground, where the two of them lay still.

The man who had been punched slowly rose from the floor, ready to attack again. He raised his fists, and the other man raised his own. But before either of them could throw a punch, a taller, even more muscular man, stepped between them.

"You try to fight one more time," he threatened. "and you will answer to Zangief!"

The men, who were too stunned to speak, slowly relaxed their arms and their bodies. A flustered Tapper rushed to the front of the room, fuming with rage.

"Alright, you two!" he shouted. "You guys wanna fight? You can do it outside, and not in my bar. GET OUT! And if I ever see either of you in my game again, you'll both be having a nice long talk with the surge protector!"

The two men growled and muttered a few choice words, but being in no mood for a fight with Zangief, they slowly, and reluctantly, pushed passed Q*bert and exited through the door. Q*bert, seeing that they were finally gone, rushed over to Felix, who was sitting up on the floor, rubbing his forehead, while being attended to by Tapper.

"Are you alright?" said the bartender.

Felix groaned as the pain crawled through his forehead.

"Quite a bump you have there," said Zangief, who was bending down, taking a closer look.

Felix took his hand from his forehead and reached down towards his tool belt for his hammer. Extracting it from its usual place, Felix tapped the golden hammer to his forehead. Instantly, the bump vanished, and Felix suddenly felt a lot better than he had before having the drink.

Tapper didn't seem at all surprised by this, and went over to the opposite counter to pour another drink, feeling confidant that Felix would be okay. As the now sober handyman slowly got to his feet, he found himself thanking his mysterious savior.

"It was no trouble," said Zangief. "Say, are you Fix-it Felix Jr.?"

"That's me," said Felix, returning to his stool in front of the counter. Zangief sat down next to him, leaving Q*bert to sit on the floor, looking up at the two of them with a worried look on his face.

"From Ralph's game?"

"Yes," said Felix.

"Ah," Zangief said, smiling slightly. "I am Zangief, friend of Ralph."

Felix seemed a bit confused by this, but extended his hand for Zangief to shake, which he did, rather firmly.

"I've heard of you," Felix said.

"I suspect you have," said Zangief, chuckling. "But I must ask, what is good guy like you doing at bar when it is bad guy time?"

Felix frowned in an embarrassed manner and began to twiddle his thumbs. He suddenly felt like leaving.

"I...I honestly don't know," he said at last. "Must have, er, taken a wrong turn somewhere. I should be going now..."

"What is hurry?" said Zangief. "You can stay a bit longer. Zangief won't let bad guys bug you."

"I...well...have a date," Felix said uncomfortably.

"Date?" said Zangief. "Oh, with the Sergeant."

Zangief smiled a bit and chuckled.

"I will not keep you then," he said. "May we meet again?"

Felix nodded uncomfortably. Thankful for Zangief's release, he hopped off the stool onto the floor. Q*bert came to his side, and together, the two of them made their way towards the door. It had been a long night for both of them, and they were eager to get home as soon as possible.

"You go on ahead, Q*bert," Felix said as soon as they had reached the station. "I'll be along in a bit."

Q*bert looked up at Felix a let out a sigh of sympathy. Although he didn't know what Felix was thinking, he could feel the poor hero's pain.

"Take care of yourself, Felix," he said. "And don't let this whole hero thing bug you too much. You might start something you can't control."

"I will," said Felix.

Giving his friend one last look, the orange fellow turned around and headed toward the entrance to Fix-it Felix Jr.

As soon as Q*bert was out of sight, Felix took a seat on one of the several chairs that were laid out in rows all along the station. Placing his head in his hands, he began to think. He wondered how Brad Scott would have dealt with the fight in the bar. He probably would have been able to stop the fight easily. Felix sighed. There were some people in the world who could be heroic without really even trying, like Scott, and some who weren't really meant to be heroic but became a hero anyway, like Ralph. But where did Felix fit in?

"If only there was some way," Felix thought. "Some way that I could prove to myself and my wife that I could be a good hero...one who Brad Scott would be proud of..."

But what could he do? Game jump like Ralph? Stumble into chaos? No, it was impossible. The only way he could prove himself was if-

Then, Felix had a thought. He didn't need to solve a crisis to prove himself to be worthy of Calhoun. Why not learn how to fire a gun? To fight a Cybug? To do the things Scott had done, and that his wife was currently doing? After all, ever since their marriage, they were both technically part of each others games. Though Calhoun's skills would be useless to Felix in his game, they would give him the peace of mind he so desperately needed. Felix would be able to prove to himself, once and for all, that he was worthy to be the husband of a Hero's Duty sergeant.

Quickly, the handyman rose from his seat and strode off, with a spring in his step, towards Hero's Duty. He was going to make things right, not matter the cost.