I do not really know what to label this as, however, it occurs right after the events of Don’t Tell also know as ‘The Violent Turbo Twins’ fanfiction.
Genre: Angst. (Is anger a genre?)
Character(s): Turbo, Turbo Twins.
WARNING: Mild violence. Graphic description (? - Tell me in your tags or a comment if you agree with this.)
“You what?!” The protagonist screeched, his small form adopting a rigidity fuelled by paranoia and fury.
Oh was he ever mad, was he ever furious. How could they be so stupid? Felix lived in an apartment with some thirty people living in it! He had a human wrecking ball at his disposal! How could something like an assault, a violent attack, go unnoticed? It was at times like these when he wished they would just drive into the 8-bit Sun already.
“Aw, stop yer whinin’!” Jet scolded, glaring malignantly at Turbo.
“He’ll keep his dang trap shut-“ Set seethed, his hands making swift jabbing motions, threatening to poke Turbo.
“If he knows what’s good for him” They growled.
“You need to start usin’ that brain o’ yours” Jet cautioned, tapping Turbo’s helmet. The racer swatted Jet’s hand away and scowled fiercely at him, prompting a sneer out of the twin.
“Ya’ll forgot that that there game has the most ol’ fashioned, secluded, backward characters in the arcade!” Set exclaimed, leaning forward so that he was eye to eye with the protagonist. The twins had to point out Turbo’s mistakes, his misjudgement and assumptions of their characters and scold him well. They were intelligent, they knew, they were not ignorant creatures who acted out on every spur of violence that decided to possess them. Turbo was the fool, Turbo was the impulsive creature and he was to be reminded of it at every opportunity.
“Don’t you know what backward people do?” Jet proposed the rhetoric question.
“They keep their traps shut, good and tight!” Jet and Set shouted right into Turbo’s face, disregarding every rule about personal boundaries. They were the ones in power and that had to be established.
Turbo relied on trophies, winning races, glory and popularity with the players to gain his want, his need, for attention. Every speck, every morsel of affection was consumed viciously by his gluttonous mind, savouring glory like the sweet treat it was and making sure to dwell upon its euphoric properties. The twins often lost the races they participated in, only collecting few trophies over the years between them. Finding that they starved from the lack of love, they adapted to be able to play with their food, drawing out attention, although in a different format, from those they interacted with. Special focus was placed on their passive-aggressive behaviours and secret inflictions of pain and suffering to those unworthy to be in their glorious presence.
Their little meeting with Felix had satiated their intense hunger and had provided them with a physical outlet from the shared, intense paranoia that had plagued them since the arrival of that dreadful, cursed cabinet.
Turbo had no right to chastise them, the little fool.
“Do not talk to me like that!” He retorted aggressively, pointing an accusing finger at them.
“I am the hero of this game, not either of you” He reminded them spitefully, lips curled back to reveal his teeth as his throat became dry and scratchy, ready to let out some monstrous screech or beastly hiss. The twins frowned but quickly chose to change their minds about how to react. They stood upright and glanced at each other, exchanging subtle smiles.
“Hmph, looks like Turbo is backwards, too” Set sneered in a nasally tone, mocking the way children would speak when taunting another. He went from adult to child in hopes to cause Turbo some additional emotional suffering.
“Yes, it seems like it, kept his mouth shut for years” Jet added, referring to how Turbo always seemed to tolerate their passive-aggressive jeers and innumerable pranks. They spoke as if Turbo was not there. The two liked to taunt him this way, engage him in their little word games.
“Like a Nicelander” The word was used like an insult. Nicelanders were soft and old fashioned, overly formal for the majority of the time and, most of all, were naïve.
They never did think very highly of that game, really. After all, there was nothing to think well of it, anyway.
Turbo was silent and gave no indication of emotion. Jet was secretly disappointed that they had stirred no reaction out of their friend. He was in the mood for conflict, so he decided to give Turbo one last push. He leaned forward languidly, coolly, eyes half-lidded and lucid with cockiness so that his eyes met with Turbo’s. He tongue ran across his top row of teeth, stopping at a yellow canine tooth, the red organ pressing against its sharp tip.
Set smirked, anticipating something daring about to occur, something he would enjoy watching.
“Get it, runt?”
Fist met face in one well-timed swing from Turbo. Jet remained turned away; fixed in the direction the punch had leaded him in. Set stood, unmoving, sharing his brother’s shock.
The protagonist yanked at the collar of Jet’s blue jumpsuit, unintentionally grasping some hair from the nape of his neck and brought him down on his knees before him.
“I will tear you apart, pixel by pixel and I will enjoy every minute of it” Turbo uttered hoarsely and promptly threw Jet onto the floor. His twin immediately kneeled by his side, clutching his arm to help him up. As Jet was steadily regaining his ability to stand he smiled.
“That was a good punch” He said honestly, massaging his jaw. Turbo’s angry demeanour flickered to one of surprise before resuming to its menacing look. Turbo had punched Jet and Set before, countless times. So why point such a meagre detail out now?
“You saying I don’t know how to punch?” The racer interrogated, ready to take offense.
“You know how to punch, all right” Set answered assertively, hints of aggression present in his voice. The twin was not happy at the fact that his brother had been hurt, even if it was from Turbo. Jet continued to rub his jawline, his tongue examining the inside of his mouth. His tongue edged its way in between his bottom line of teeth and his inner lip, caressing his tender, bleeding gum.
“Somethin’ different…’bout this swing” He muttered. The twin turned to his left and spat on the ground. A yellow tooth lay in a puddle of saliva. Turbo cringed momentarily before regaining his defiant stance.
“Does it hurt?” Turbo asked slyly. The protagonist watched the twin with mischievous eyes. Jet continued to stare at him.
“Don’t get cocky” He stated. Jet turned away and walked off, leaving his brother behind. Set hissed at Turbo, keeping his hands close to his chest like a recoiling animal before trudging after Jet.
Oh, the irony.