Ch 1 - We've all got Problems!

Vanellope Von Schweetz! If you asked anyone in all of Sugar Rush to describe the girl who was deemed with such a name, they would tell you with a sneer on their face, that Vanellope Von Schweetz was just a glitch! And a mistake! And an annoying, intrusive, messy-haired racer wannabe! She was all these things rolled up in a sticky mess of trouble. This is how they saw her BEFORE Wreck it Ralph came along and changed everything. If you asked Ralph his opinion on said Von Schweetz, he would tell you that she was President Fart-feathers! Baroness Boogerface! The Greatest Racer Ever! And of course his best friend. Thanks to him she was no longer considered a glitch. Quite the contrary, she was in fact a princess. A true blue-coded royal whom was loved by all. But, for title purposes she preferred to be called President Von Schweetz.

Despite all the hurt the people of Sugar Rush had caused her, she knew deep down in her code that they would never have acted in such a way, uninfluenced by King Candy, or as the ghostly racer had called himself, 'Turbo'! She didn't have it in her sugar coated heart to hold it against them, and as their Princess/President it was her DUTY [giggle] to forgive them for being such stink brains.

Of course she had other DUTIES [pffft hahaha] that came with being royalty. Not all jobs were as fun as leading the Random Roster Race. She was in charge of any political decisions that needed careful assessing. To her surprise it wasn't as easy as eeny-meany-miny-mo. It was actual hard work. She was the one the candy citizens came to when there was a problem. Which of course included governing any disputes the racers had with each other involving unorthodox racing techniques. This was what led up to the chaos that was unfolding before her as she sat anxiously in her throne-cart.

"Vanellope, could you please tell this dunderhead that it is totally against racing rules to fling peanut butter cup pies at other racers heads!" Taffyta self-righteously demanded, fists held on her hips in all her better-than-thou glamor.

Vanellope took a chance glance at said dunderhead, Rancis of course, who at the moment seemed a little more interested in his hand mirror than the accusations being thrown at him. "Uummm, Taffyta, not that I don't agree that it's very rude to throw deserts at people's heads...no matter how funny it is...it's not exactly something I'd call a big deal!" She chuckled despite Taffyta's obvious distress on the subject. The milk haired racer was obviously not amused. Thus Vanellope's lighthearted laugh died down to nervous tittering under the other girl's crystal blue glare. "I'm allergic to peanuts!" Taffyta hissed indignantly, as if it was something the princess was already supposed to know. Vanellope let out a small 'oh', which only served to simmer Taffyta's annoyance.

Rancis, who seemed finally satisfied with his appearance, put the mirror away and turned towards his accuser. "I object!" he huffed in mild annoyance. Taffyta stared at him in confusion. "Object to WHAT?" she demanded. The male racer gave her a rude flash of the hand. "I object to that mop you call a hairdo!" "WHAT?" "It's hardly my fault if you can't go near peanut brittle without puffing up like a fat airhead!" he stated in a matter-of-fact way.

"I AM NOT FAT!" Taffyta screeched.

"Of course you aren't, Fat-tia"

"It's Taffyta, Peanut butter for brains!"

"Whatever you say, Taffy-duh!"

"I'M NOT FAT, AND I'M NOT STUPID, FLUGGERBUTTER!" her voice cracked.

"Fudge-pudge!"

"GRAAAAH!" By now, hot tears were flooding Taffyta's vision, streaking her rosy cheeks with coal black eyeliner. Vanellope hated seeing her like this. Despite Taffyta's self-absorbed attitude, deep down the girl had really low self-esteem. And of course she was kind of a crybaby. It was one of the reasons that the president had forgiven her so easily after all the girl had put her through. Though Vanellope had yet to reclaim her memory of being a princess in the past, Taffyta apparently remembered them being very good friends. Which of course made the whole bullying thing kind of awkward.

Vanellope stood from her Throne-car in an effort to look imposing. "CAN IT, RANCIS!" she bellowed as best as her tiny body could.

Both racers stared at their pint-sized monarch in surprise.

"Look! No one is fat, and no one is stupid, and NO ONE should be throwing ANYTHING at ANYONE'S head! GOT IT!?" she stamped her foot commandingly. The two racers nodded their heads in unison, with matching expressions of panic. Vanellope grinned in a pleased manner and seated herself once more. This was one of the things she loved about being royalty. She could get away with being bossy. "Now, Rancis, is there something you'd like to say to Taffyta?" she offered.

The male racer got ready to speak his mind, but a sharp glare from Vanellope snuffed out any insults that threatened to leave his tongue. Lest he wish to lose the precious pink organ that allowed him to vocalize, he decided it was in his best interest to comply.

"I'm...Y'know..sorry and junk!" he mumbled with no small amount of humiliation. Taffyta finally stopped crying and attempted to wipe the black from her once rosy cheeks. She smiled, but only a little.

"Thanks!" she whimpered softly, still recovering from the wave of tears. Rancis grinned smugly to himself, mentally patting himself on the back for this small accomplishment. "You're welcome!" he gloated self-assuredly.

"I was talking to Vanellope, Peanut brain!" his smile deflated along with the swirl in his hair. Vanellope cringed sensing another argument coming. She turned to her adviser Sour Bill imploringly. "Bill, these two are giving me a banana splitting ice-cream headache. Could you please handle this while I go out for a drive to clear the stink from my brain?" she pleaded. The frowning spherical green ball needed only nod before his mistress was out the door. The only sign that the energetic racer was even there was the pink poofy pile of princess attire that she had glitched out of before leaving.

Pain. That was the only word he could use to describe what he was feeling. Oh sure, technically, he could use a whole vernacular of words such as anger, disappointment, hatred, a deep seeded need for vengeance, the list went on. But the pain was all that he could think about at the moment. The other feelings could wait.

He tried to move at least one of his limbs, but to no avail. It was as if he wasn't in control of his body at the moment. His whole body was numb. So he was in pain and he was numb...great! Not that it made any sense, but it didn't have to make sense to annoy him. Not only this, but to add insult to very literal injury, he apparently couldn't see. The corner of his mouth twitched in irritation as red cubic flecks flooded his vision. Within the red particles he could barely see his own binary code. What on earth happened to him?

Sudden searing pain shot through his mind like a hot knife. He could remember...fire. A huge beacon of fire. He remembered being burned alive, completely at the mercy of his own insect code. And he remembered the ones responsible for his downfall. That damned glitch and her muscle bound wart-hog of a wrecker. Oh, how he wanted them dead. Especially the glitch.

Suddenly the pain stopped almost as soon as it began. All he was left with was a dull headache and the strange tingling in his body. He assumed it was just his limbs regaining the ability to move once more. Carefully, so as not to fall flat on his face, he pushed his torso off of the ground, followed by his knees, until finally he was standing. Or rather leaning on something hard and sticky. Ghostly yellow eyes opened, slowly revealing to him his exact whereabouts. The Taffy Swamp. Well, that explained why he was covered in sticky gunk. Pushing off of the tree he was using to steady himself, he took at least three steps before landing on his knees once again. Letting out a growl of aggravation he tore a low branch off of the tree, using the candy stick to pick himself up off the ground.

"Ha, success!" he cried hoarsely, having not used his voice in some time. But as soon as he tasted sweet triumph he felt sick bile replace it as his body started flickering red in a most painful fashion. The candy cane he was gripping flickered as well under his touch and soon disappeared long enough for him to hit the ground.

"GRAAAAAAH!" he yelled to no one in particular. Because there was no one there. No one to hear his cries of aggravation. No one to watch his face contort in devastation as he finally grasped his terrible situation. No one to cheer him on. Or tell him he was the Greatest Racer Ever. No adoring fans. No candy people. No Sour Bill. NO NOTHING! Just him...and his newly flawed code.

"A glitch!" he hissed to himself. He held his hand above his head, but the glitching digits did nothing to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'm a code damned GLITCH!" he spit out furiously.

For what seemed like half an hour he stayed on the ground, throwing caution to the wind and screeching obscenities at the trees. His once white and red racing uniform was almost fully stained with green taffy when a sudden sound caught his attention enough to make him halt in his fit of profanity.

That sound! It was the most beautiful, familiar sound ever. The roaring of an engine. The screech of tires. The skittering of chocolate road pebbles being ground into the pavement. There was a kart near. 'If I can't walk,' he thought to himself, 'then I might as well drive!' Grinning madly he pushed himself up behind a nearby candy tree, so as to get a better look at the very much welcomed kart. And of course...the not so welcomed driver.