Chapter 1: The Danger of Racing

"Fuel?"

"Check."

"Tire pressure?"

"Check."

"You gonna win this race?"

"You bet I am." Lightning McQueen says as he shifts from tire to tire, shaking them out in warm-up stretches while his pit crew gassed him up physically and mentally.

Tonight officially marked the third race of the season, with 42 other racers eager to compete in the race for the highly-esteemed season title and the trophy every racer sought after - The Piston Cup.

Florida International Speedway was packed to the brim, bustling with enthusiastic attendees and overzealous bustle of paparazzi crews trying to delve within the territory of famous racers like savages on high, all in the hopes of snapping infamous money-making shots for the press. Camera lights shone in a brilliant display akin to fireworks; the energy of the arena reaching peak intensity. It added metaphorical fuel to the fire of excitement and the overall liveliness of the arena was amped ten-fold.

It was always like this, but Lightning McQueen supposes this is just one of the things he could never get tired of. Besides winning, It was undeniably the best part of any race.

Down in the pits, the Radiator Springs crew convened, checking over quality control one last time before it was time for racers to be called down to the track. Lightning's ever-entrusted pit crew, confident in the fact that they were prepared and coordinated for tonight's race, was definitely a huge advantage. They were unlike half of the other scatterbrained pitters some of these other racers were dealt with and luckily for him, his pit crew were more than just a couple of indisposable employees. Not only were they some of his closest friends, either, they were family. Something he wouldn't trade off for anything.

Not a single one of them went without exchanging their words of encouragement, all part of their typical pre-race routine, ensuring their friend that everything was well within the bounds to attain a flawless victory. With such supportive friends like them, it was impossible for Lightning not to feel this confident.

"You're gonna do great out there today, Stickers."

The familiar sound of Sally's voice emerges through the noisy commotion of mechanical whirring and loud pit chatter, her friends easing out of the way to allow her space to come forward.

Lightning's attention is immediately drawn to the ever-so graceful blue porsche whose face was alight with a proud smile, emerald green eyes coveting a loving gleam to the car that meant the world to her. The mere sight of Sally alone was reassurance to him enough. Only she could manage to light that spark of indescribable happiness to his core.

Missing her had become a thing of the past since she recently began attending more and more of his races. He found it very endearing that she would take time away from Radiator Springs to come cheer him on from the sidelines; and ever since then, it had only given him more incentive to push himself harder than ever to win. The boundless support she came to offer was more than appreciated and In just the short time they spent learning more about each other, he came to learn that she didn't have a single mean-streak in her. It just wasn't in her nature. She was always the most gracious and humble of her community and that alone was just one of the many reasons he truly loved her.

That, and you know, her impressively good looks. But that's beside the point.

He watches keenly as his girlfriend approaches, feeling her eyes looking him over, and he's almost taken aback by the unexpected kiss she plants to his front fender.

"For good luck." She says, her voice harbored with affection.

He takes to the sweet gesture with an appreciative smile and a light-hearted chuckle, quick to reciprocate his appreciation.

"Thank you, Sal... Now the others don't stand a chance." He jokes, blue eyes lingering on her a little longer than intended, even as she retreated back to her usual place in the pits. But his reverie was soon interrupted by a voice echoing over the PA system.

"Attention All Racers: Please take your position at the starting line. The race will begin shortly. I repeat, please take your positions."

"Alright everyone, it's time." Doc Hudson chimes in, gaining everyone's undivided attention as he claims his position up on the crew chief podium.

"This is it. Remember what I taught you, kid. Don't get yourself stuck on the inside like last time, and you'll be fine." His mentor began, all eyes on him, and there's a momentary pause before he continues.

"But before I send you off, there's one more thing I need to mention," He adds, and the racer under scrutiny clearly isn't too happy about the prospect of receiving an inevitable lecture from his mentor at the very last minute.

"Try and stay away from you-know-who. I don't need him throwing you off your game tonight. You know what happened last time, and I don't want a repeat of that happening again."

The comment earned an exasperated eye roll from McQueen, clearly bothered at just the mention of the narcissistic racer.

"Doc, listen, that was the one time went too far with the threats. There's a line you don't cross, and that was exactly what he-,"

"Look, kid," Doc interrupted with stern inflection, clearly not wanting to delve further into the subject again. "Just mind your own business and keep your focus on this race. Fighting won't get you anything but a disqualification, you know that. Don't let this idiot jeopardize everything you've worked this hard for. You've made it this far. Don't screw up now."

"I know, I know," Lightning utters, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was clearly irked.

"Come on, you got this. We're here for you, kid," Doc gestures to the congregation of his friends, earning a collective noise of agreement from the rest of the crew.

The racer settles for a wordless sigh, knowing better than to even try and provoke an argument with his friends over a matter so trivial. Even if he didn't always openly express his gratitude, they already knew deep down, he truly did appreciate their efforts and support.

"Alright, fine, I get it. Thanks, guys." Lightning responds in a slightly more appeased manner, eased from the brief moment of consolation.

"Now, get out there and show 'em what you're made of." Doc concludes with the slightest hint of an eager grin, looking on as the former rookie bids them farewell and swiftly makes his way out of the pits to join the crowd of racers making their way to the starting line.

Sally's gaze lingers on the sight of her lover's fleeting form until he completely disappears into the crowd. Her lips down-turn into a slight grimace, something she finds herself doing more often, as troubled thoughts rouse in the form of a hushed whisper to herself.

"Please be careful, Stickers."

"Welcome back, race fans! I'm Bob Cutlass, here with my good friend, Darrell Cartrip. We're here today at the Florida International Speedway, midway through the racing season."

"Right we are, Bob. Four cars are tied for the season points lead, and of course, the winner of this race will win the season title and the highly coveted piston cup."

"Man, It's gonna be an exciting night, Darrell! Get ready boys, this race is about to begin!"

This was it.

No turning back now.

Positioned at the threshold of the starting line, Lightning mutters through his customary mantra of 'speed. I am speed.'.

But also too, reminding himself of his mentor's advice;

focus.

He breathes.

In.

Out.

In the midst of his critical moment of concentration, his solitude is too suddenly interrupted by a harsh voice shouting out his name from behind.

"Hey, McQueen!"

An irritated sigh.

"What do you want, Chick?"

"Hey, C'mon man, I just wanna congratulate you on your last win," The egotistical racer approaches with a total shit-eating grin, followed by the act of him bumping tires with the clearly irritated racer in a deceptive display of buddy-like sportsmanship.

"After all, it is your last win of the season. Even rookie over here agrees with me. Says you might as well quit now while you're at it - and I don't blame him! You can kiss that piston cup goodbye." Chick ends in boisterous laughter, casting a glance at the new cobalt racer at Lightning's side.

"Ahh but anyways, Lightning, have you met my good friend here, Torre Pierce?"

"Wait, what?" Lightning faltered, eyes suddenly opening in rapt attention. The wall of disinterest he had tried to impart came crumbling down around him, and he suddenly found himself thrown into the conversation without much choice.

"Let me tell you, this guy is hilarious." Chick gestures a tire in the direction of the rookie racer, who in response, exchanges a brief glance with the two veteran racers.

"Y'know personally I thought he was a little weird at first, but once you get to know 'im, he ain't so bad." Chick uttered through a hushed whisper as if trying to spare the racer from the humility of gossip, but did a pretty shit job at it.

In the midst of trying to wrap his head around everything Chick just verbally bombarded him with though, Lightning gives the foreign racer a quick once-over as if trying to decipher the unfamiliar car's entire existence in one brief look. But he Instead, discovers something else entirely, coming to a sudden standstill in the face of realization.

His eyes widen, a surprised gasp falling past his lips.

"Wait - Torre Pierce," He repeats the name aloud in revelation, addressing the racer at his side with newfound energy. "Hang on a second, I remember you."

"Wait, hold on - You know him already?" Chick's eyes darts between the two racers in incredulous surprise.

"Yeah, I do." Lightning says, his eyes never parting from the sight of his old acquaintance. "We met a long time ago, but I never thought I'd ever see him again." His tone implicates genuine surprise, in which naturally he expects the other party to respond. But for some reason, he doesn't, and Lightning is unable to help but find the silence slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh yeah? And how'd someone like you actually end up meeting mister elusive over here?" Chick persists; trying to entail an obvious distraction in the form of pointless conversation.

"That's none of your business," Lightning retorts, turning his attention away from the impetuous racer at his side.

"What, someone scared of 'resurfacing the past'?" Chick mocks with bitter intention, clearly unhappy with the response he'd gotten.

"No, It's not even like that -"

"Because I heard two of his wins were against someone by the name of you."

The comment almost catches Lightning off guard, but he plays off his near-loss of composure with an apathetic roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, so what? That was a long time ago, it doesn't matter anymore." He tries to implicate his disinterest in the subject, but Chick responds in cocky laughter.

"Yeah, that's what you think. Pierce over here tells me he's got a pretty big surprise for you. And frankly, I'm with him on this one. Y'wanna know what it is?"

"Lemme guess-"

"Beating you!" Chick asserts his remark with crude laughter, and Lightning can only regard the comment with a scoff.

"Oh, Is that right, Pierce?" He provokes, letting his eyes drift in Torre's direction in search of confirmation. "Well let's hope you still got it in you after all this time."

But the response he got was… odd.

Pierce hadn't said a word. Barely even acknowledged him. The racer's eyes narrowed, his demeanor unexplainably hostile as he diverted his attention back to the racetrack instead.

Needless to say, the blatant disregard was slightly off-putting.

Chick had promptly burst into laughter at the scene, which only added more salt to the metaphorical wound Lightning had been inflicted. All he could do at this point was cast a displeased glare in Chick's direction and wish this painfully awkward situation would be over with already.

Whether a car liked him or not was their problem, not his; It didn't matter whether or not Pierce was dead serious or just playing games with him, but in either case scenario, Lightning still had some level of manners.

Which is why when he looks over to address Pierce again, it's with good intention.

"Oh, and hey," Lightning starts, and despite the almost painfully obvious discomfort on his features, he persists nonetheless, trying to precede his friendliest tone of voice possible in an attempt to prove that his sincerity was actually genuine. "It's good to have you back with us."

And he carefully observes the racer's mannerisms for even the slightest sign of acknowledgement this time.

But still, nothing.

Taking that as his que to just give up already, he does so with a confused diversion of his gaze, attempting to regain his focus back on the racetrack.

He was almost certain Torre wasn't going to willingly speak at this point. Whether he was suddenly mute, or just selectively so, Lightning assumed he would speak when and only when he felt comfortable in doing so; not that it was going to be a problem. McQueen already had an over-talkative teammate, he certainly didn't need another thrown into the mix.

But It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. It left him dwelling over a list of possibilities as to why he was suddenly being given the silent treatment from his old acquaintance. It was an unwelcome change and frankly, he found it extremely uncomfortable.

The way Pierce had regarded him with such cold ruthlessness in his demeanor indicated there was obviously something more serious going on.

But what?

They barely knew each other, and even in the brief time they actually did care to talk to each other, he doesn't recall ever being rude to him in the past. Sure, there was the occasional playful banter that was obviously common amongst racers on the track, but it's not like it was bad enough to spark this incessant rivalry between the two of them; which is exactly why all of this was so baffling and especially unsettling.

Something - and he didn't know what exactly, but it was something - was definitely off about the guy.

Instinct said:

don't trust him.

Lightning worries at his lower lip, trying his best to bury this unsettling feeling that suddenly overcame him, but still found it slowly biting away at his subconscious.

So much for starting the race with a clear mind.

"Racers, start your engines!" The officials suddenly announced over the PA, startling Lightning out of his thoughtful daze.

For the sake of winning this race, he had no choice but to forget about it. It was a matter he could finish worrying about after the race.

The preparatory sound of revving engines drowned out his thoughts; a pleasant moment of respite. But it failed to drown out the sound of Chick's antagonizing voice proclaiming aloud:

"See you in last place, McQueen!"

"Yeah right." He mutters through gritted teeth, forcing himself to hone in all of his concentration on the track while the countdown initiated.

3.

2.

1.

The starting flag shoots down, the overpowering sound of screeching tires and roaring engines commencing the beginning of the race; but already, it's too soon interrupted by a sudden, yet ever-so simple remark from the deceptive foreign racer at his side.

"Au Revoir, McQueen."

And there it is again. That unsettling feeling in his core.

With a hitched breath, Lightning's eyes shot up at the sound of Torre's familiar thick french accent, clearly caught off guard by his choice of words - no, not only the words, but his way of saying it.

But before he could even muster a response, Pierce had already surpassed him by at least six places, leaving him completely in the dust.

He struggled to regain his composure in the midst of his already compromised position, and grits his teeth in unfathomable frustration when he realize he had already fallen to 9th place.

He wasn't just frustrated now, he was pissed.

"Come on kid, get your head in the race!" Doc's voice suddenly shouts over the headset channel, startling Lightning from his pensive thoughts.

"I know, I know, I am!" He responds bitterly on impulse, pushing himself hard to try and surpass the cars ahead of him and reclaim his rightful place on the top five of the leaderboard.

"In the second place slot, we find Torre Pierce. You know Darrell, I don't think anybody expected him to make a comeback after what happened. The rookie returned into the racing season after a long break concluding his wreck in France, and it's a miracle he's even still racing here with us today."

"You know, his determination to stay relevant in such a competitive sport is beyond anything I've ever seen. And it seems no one knows much about this rather elusive racer either, claiming he prefers to spend time alone to train at racing headquarters with his mentor in order to perfect his racing. With four wins already under his name, will he come through today and win this piston cup?"

"In fourth place we have the incredible Lightning McQueen and folks let me tell you, ever since he's been under the mentorship of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, his performance has been through the roof this season!"

"Absolutely, Darrell! It's amazing what kind of tricks the former rookie has learned from his mentor. Does McQueen have one more victory under his hood, or will the new rookie racer, Torre Pierce, show him up and snatch that cup and the title from him?"

"Well Bob, we're just gonna have to wait and see!"

In the midst of the sixth to final lap, Lightning quickly finds himself approaching the racer he'd been dreading - Torre, in all his crowning glory of being in 1st place.

He narrows his eyes inquisitively, trying to discern his next best course of action. He's feeling confident in the situation, and he reckons he can definitely ease his way up to 1st before the last lap. But things are much more easier said than done.

And he especially doesn't expect Chick to suddenly approach from the inside and surpass him.

But Lightning scoffs, pretending to give his competitor a false sense of dominance. It's not like this wasn't the first time he's done this. Patience was never Lightning's strongest suitor, but it did increase the level of satisfaction in the end.

And It's a major increase in speed that leaves Chick in the dust yet again, and he certainly doesn't need rear view mirrors to see the anger on his face. He already knew.

"Oh no you don't," Chick viciously mutters under his breath, his eyes narrowing in perpetual anger at the racer's bold efforts to surpass him.

And no matter how incredibly satisfying the pass-up was, McQueen ultimately finds himself struggling to withhold his place in 2nd. Caught in between two racers with a vendetta against him wasn't the greatest of positions to be in, so it was in his best interest to make optimal use of his stamina in the situation before he was forced with the others at the bottom of the leaderboard.

Down on the fifth to final lap now, the competition was daunting.

His eyes scope the track, searching, waiting for the right opening to snag. And when he finally sees one, that small window of opportunity, he immediately goes for it.

And Pierce, of course, wasn't too pleased with the idea of being surpassed by his rival.

Discerning eyes can see the dirty look being cast to him, but for his own sake, Lightning tries to maintain an air of disinterest and instead focus on his position; but unbeknownst to him, Pierce decides to settle for foul play in the game.

The sound of a shrill whistle effectively startles Lightning into submission, and his eyes are immediately drawn to Torre, confusion weighing heavy on his face.

Tearing his eyes away from the track was a huge fault on his end.

Pierce uses this distraction to his advantage, intentionally swerving into Lightning's personal space and forcing him off of his lane with a harsh side-swipe to his back fender.

The force of the impact throws Lighting off his balance but never off the track, and he's left desperately fighting to regain control with gravity. His eyes narrow with malice at the sight of Pierce using this as a way of getting ahead, and in some place in the back of his mind, he knew Chick had to have been a deliberate accomplice in this game of deceit.

Those bastards play the same dirty tricks.

He struggles to regain control after the knock-back, his tires rendering a cloud of smoke from the friction against asphalt, but somehow he manages to save himself with a maneuver he'd learned from his mentor, specifically for situations like these, and he's immediately overwhelmed with relief.

But his reprieve is short-lived since the last few laps were rapidly advancing and he still had some ground to make up. But it's with minimal effort he easily reclaims that lost ground, and It's to Pierce's discontent that he quickly returns within the bounds of his territory.

McQueen casts a brief side-glance at the cobalt racer, trying to suppress the urge to proclaim his inevitable victory aloud, but refrains from doing so in response to the sudden catch of a shift in his demeanor.

Judging by the look on his face, Lightning clearly wasn't supposed to still be here.

His gaze lingers for only a moment longer until he finds himself under Pierce's scrutinizing glare, and it's his eyes alone that force Lightning to suddenly reel back in fear. Just then, his gaze catches a strange glimmer of light on the back of his fender.

That's when he knew something wasn't right.

It's the faint flashing of a tiny red light in his vision that causes him alarm, and that's all the reason he needs before he's contacting his crew chief in distress.

"Doc, come though, can you hear me?" Lightning calls out over the mic, his breathing labored and voice uncharacteristically nervous.

"Yes, I hear you."

He hears his mentor's voice come through clearly, and finds the sound oddly comforting.

"You alright out there?"

He hears Doc again, and this time, he's forced back into reality.

"No, I'm not, I -" Lightning starts but finds himself suddenly hesitating, his sentence falling short in the irrational fear that he might just be overreacting.

"Lightning, what's going on?" Doc's voice raises in genuine concern, and that's all he needed to hear as assurance to himself that this actually was something serious he needed to address.

"I think something bad is about to happen,"

"Wait - what?" He hears his mentor briefly taken aback by the message.

"I don't know, I just- I don't feel right, Doc," Lightning confesses, his speed starting to noticeably decrease as a result of his panic. The delay causes him to lose his spot in 2nd and fall back into 4th, and he hears ecstatic laughter come from Chick at his newly gained position.

Then, another strange speck of light. This time on the 86's rear fender.

Now he knows he's not hallucinating.

"Come to the pits right now." Doc instantly demands, the sudden inflection of his voice serious enough to raise concern with the rest of the crew around him. "I'll call security if-"

"Doc," Lightning urgently interrupts, his gaze following the movement of that same obscure red light from earlier. This time, pinned on the back of a random racer's bumper.

Before he could get a word out, the illegible object unexpectedly releases from its host and almost nicks him in the tire during the drop, prompting him to quickly swerve out of its path, barely managing to avoid a collision with a neighbouring racer.

He thinks it's the only one and he's about to inform his crew, but the sight of a second flashing red light causes a hitch in his breath when it drops dead in his path.

"Doc! There's a- "A sudden sharp gasp cuts his sentence short, tires skidding across the pavement as he swerves out of control.

The last thing Lightning McQueen could recall was the bright flash of a spark ignite underneath his tire and against the concrete underneath him, succeeding a violent impact of an intense blast of heat. The shrill sound of metal scraping against concrete, thick black smoke suffocating him, a panicked thought of 'can't breathe, can't breathe...!' and then suddenly -

Pitch black.