Leland's POV
I had a feeling that this was not going to be the easiest mission that Finn and I would face. The signs of it were very simple. First of all, we – I – had gotten sent to a group of oil rigs in the middle of nowhere. Secondly, all satellites had been hacked. Then, a group of so-called 'junk cars' had owned the platforms with a Zundapp Janus I recognised as Professor Z. My day was about to get much worse.
I have been a spy for forty years. I know; it is not the world's safest occupation – far from that. Finn and I have almost been killed something along the lines of a few thousand times. We were always assigned the same mission. It comes from being best friends for a very long time. But I had always thought that we would get in a scrape, but always make it out alive. I guess I was wrong about that.
In the spy world, I was famous. Almost every single crook knew my name. Yeah. Leland Turbo and Finn McMissile. That was us. Professor Z might be watching out for us. For the past forty or so years, Finn and I have stopped every single criminal plot there was out there. Nothing would have changed, I supposed. But I was wrong about that, too.
Along with Sid, who was actually our main transporter, though I have never thought of him like that, I had reached the oil platforms. Finn would be coming along later. He was hiring a boat, and while I was travelling by air, he was going by water. Boats were never my thing either. And as much as I hate to admit it, I get seasick. Woah. Not a good sign in a life of spying. But I got by anyway. That had been my secret – shared only with Finn. No one other than he knew. Well, what can I say? A spy keeps secrets.
Sid had flown away, leaving me on the roof of the oil platform. The said 'junk cars' would be getting here soon. I just had to wait for them, blend in, and say nothing suspicious. I did not want to blow my cover.
From a distance, I could see the boats coming closer towards me. I drove down the spirals and slopes until I had reached the bottommost level. Then I waited. In theory, I was waiting to start my job. Yes; I considered spying a job. Well, it was. I got paid for it. But this would be my last job. But I didn't know that. Not yet.
Minutes trickled away just like water. Then... they arrived. The whole group of cars, some armed with guns, others with flamethrowers. There was only one that was weapon less. It was him. Professor Z. He was a really small blue, Zundapp Janus, with grey eyes, a monocle, and broken roof racks. That, and the fact that his engine is most renowned for stalling.
I had my eye on the lemon nearest the edge. He was about my size. I changed into my disguise. We had planned this for ages. This car was the lemon that I was supposed to replace, as my cover to find out what was going on. He had the hardened features of a Jaguar, but gone with age, and his green eyes were narrowed.
I took a sharp intake of breath. Here goes nothing, I thought. I swung silently down, and knocked him into the water, at least 500 ft below. He was more likely to be dead. I did not have a problem with killing cars. Some deserved it. It was all part of my job. It was almost too easy. None of the cars were looking at each other, and I was soon a double of the unknown car.
My eyes took in the room that we had driven into. I made myself look all the more beat-up and worn-down as I could; the Professor was staring intently at the group, as if he were suspecting something. Then, his analytical grey eyes turned away after meeting my disguised green ones.
"Grem and Acer have yet to bring the camera," he said, in his accented German voice. It sounded arrogant and pompous, as if he knew that I was secretly here. But then again, he might have spoken like that all along. "We will wait for them. But, I have something I need to do."
His eyes lingered on mine. I made myself look as ferocious and aggressive as possible; it was not too hard, but I guess he had seen through my disguise all along. "Vladmir," he said to me, "Come. I must have a word with you before the camera is to be transported."
I had taken notes of this Grem, and this Acer, and of course, the camera, sending them as quickly as I could to Finn, who would be approaching these crooks some three hours later. But what could I do then follow him? I had no choice. I would either follow him, or blow my cover. I went after him.
"Vladmir," he said to me. "I am very disappointed in you." For a start, my heart leapt. Maybe this Vladmir that I was impersonating had done something wrong, and I had had nothing to do with it. But I should have known from that steely look in his eyes that something was very, very wrong.
He smiled at me. It was innocent enough, but I could sense the cruelty in those otherwise blank eyes, and that curved mouth. "You should not have let yourself be impersonated by a MI6 spy."
I internally cursed. Without waiting for his next move, I bolted. My disguise melted away, and I was no longer Vladmir, but Leland Turbo again. I had done it. I had blown my cover. And for the first time, without Finn by my side, I felt a sense of real danger. Like I was going to die.
I drove straight into a broadcasting room. Even if I was going to die, I would let Finn know about these cars, about everything I had found out during my short time at the oil rig. I locked the door. I panned the cameras to me.
"This is Agent Leland Turbo. I have a flash transmission for Agent Finn McMissile. Finn, my cover's been compromised. Everything's gone pear-shaped. You won't believe what I've found out here. This is bigger than anything we've ever seen, and nobody knows it exists." I was starting to panic now. "Finn, I need back-up, but don't call the cavalry, it could blow the operation. And be careful, it's not safe out here." I heard cars in the hallway outside. They knew I was talking. I heard a voice that belonged to that green Pacer car, "Acer". It would not be long before my sentence, before I would be judged. "Transmitting my grids now. Good luck."
I switched the cameras off, and making sure Finn had received the transmission, I searched for an exit route. But there really was nothing – nothing, except the door that was now shaking with the combined efforts of the lemons. There was nothing for it. I would have to fight my way. Well, I comforted myself. You've always fought your way out before. It was sort of true, but it lacked one important detail. He had always had Finn by his side. The two of them, together, were unstoppable. But there was no two of them this time. It was just him.
By the time the door exploded inwards with the combined forces of the Gremlins, Pacers, Hugos and Trunkovs, a trapdoor was opening. I could see the bright daylight through the miniscule skylight (a skylight too small to be seen, but one that could fit an average-sized car through it). Like me. How could I have missed that small detail? Now, it would be the difference between life and death.
There was nothing more I could do to prevent the future events from coming towards me. The only thing I could do was to fight.
The fight was not exactly fair, to be honest. Well, let's see. There was one of me, and hundreds of them. The oil rig was literally swarming with lemons. It was virtually impossible to get out – alive. But I cocked my gun and aimed it at the first approaching lemon.
Blam.
I fired the shot, and it hit the oncoming lemon's windscreen, which cracked instantly, sending the blue Pacer spinning against the far wall, where a huge weight tumbled down from the impact, crashing fatally onto his head. One down. Just hundreds more to go. Another gun flipped out from the paintwork, and I fired shots. Not random shots. They were shots made for precision. Each and every one hit the expected target.
It steadily got worse. The lemons were firing at me, too, and a pair of them, Grem and Acer, were firing from beyond the doorway, hitting home a few times. I gasped as a bullet scraped against my tire, sending air hissing out of it. I felt the pain of it, and I saw, in front of me, the horror of the entire situation. I was going to die. I was sure of it. But I would take them down with me.
I don't remember fighting so hard in my entire life. I admit, I had still wanted to leave alive, and go back to Finn, alive, not caring whether I failed or not. A spy's goal was to obtain the information – and stay alive. I had obtained some necessary information that could help Finn. But I might not get out alive. The lemon's clearly had the upper hand. They fought against me, forcing me to back out against the wall, trapped. I still fired. My shots were no more precise than they should have been. At times, I fired blindly; I could not see through the heat and flames of the gunfire and flamethrowers.
I felt something scrape my paintwork, and I winced. The fight was more than even at first, tipped in my favour, but soon, the combined forces of all the lemons had me trapped, against the wall, with no way out. This was the end, I supposed.
"Well, you fought bravely," said the Professor, his eyes still on a few dozen dead lemons scattered around the room. I had obviously done more damage than I had anticipated. The lemons – already beat-up and broken, were in worse condition than they had been. I hid a snicker. It was sort of amusing to see them like this, wounded badly, and by my hand, too.
Surreptitiously, I trained my gun on the Professor, locked the target grid, and prepared to fire. He seemed to realise this, and his grey eyes widened with horror. The world seemed to move in slow motion. Professor Z desperately drove to the right, attempting to leave my sights, but my gun moved with him. The target was locked on him. And I fired.
But there was no explosion. No bang. The gun did not buck against my paintwork. The hammer had drawn back, and fallen, but there was no flash of fire, no bullet whizzing at 600 mph towards the Professor. The killing shot had not happened. And yet, I heard the click, and I knew the chambers in my gun were empty. No piece of metal heading for the kill towards the Zundapp Janus.
My last hope slipped away from me. There were no bullets in my gun. I could not hope to get out of here alive without a weapon. And there was no available one. The lemons were keeping their distance from me, knowing full well about the last time I had used an opponent as a weapon against a group of my enemies.
"Well, that's an unexpected development," sneered the Professor. "It looks like we'll finally kill the Leland Turbo. At last. Now, for your 'partner' in the business, Agent Finn McMissile…"
"No!" I screamed. "The thought of Finn in the same position as me was unbearable. These lemons couldn't kill him. Not only was he my partner and closest friend, he was like family to me. My family – the cars responsible for modelling me – were all dead, killed in covert operations by cars like these. And Finn was the only hope to stopping these lemons. If Finn died, the whole world would erupt in chaos. I did not know for sure what the lemons were planning, but I knew from past experience – and common sense – that it was not going to be good.
"I think it's time to get rid of this one, now," he said, and he waved at the lemons to take me away.
I thought of the best insult I could come up with. "Yeah?" I demanded. "You might as well just get rid of yourselves. You know, before you die naturally? 'Cause you guys look like you're going to fall apart and die at any minute now. In the near future. So you might as well do away with a piece of scrap metal like YOU!"
They dragged me away, as I continued to yell abuse and insults at my captors. That was the best I could currently do. I saw a machine. I saw the pieces of junk metal go into it.
I saw them being crushed into a cube.
For the first time, I laughed. Crushed. It was an acknowledgeable death, after all. It would hurt, man, it would hurt, but it would be over. No torture. Nothing. Just pain – short pain, and then death. It comforted me.
The lemons eyed me suspiciously. "What's so funny?" they demanded together, in union, a chorus. It seemed perfectly rehearsed, yet I knew that it wasn't, and I was a game in their bid for power. Like I was just a chess piece to get out of the way. A simple piece in a game that no one cared about.
I looked at them. "Me," I said.
They looked puzzled. Dumb cars, I thought, they really just follow instructions. They have no brain. They have no life. They just live to serve. I thought for a little longer, and then I thought, what a rubbish life.
One of them shoved me forwards, angrily. "Get in there," he demanded. He tried to drive into me, but though I was already battered badly, I held my own and refused to move. I heard his engine stall. "Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Don't you know what you're doing is wrong? It's wrong for you, and wrong for everybody else. Why?" I repeated.
"Because of who we are, everyone hated us. Posh cars like you, and that McMissile would clearly have turned your backs on us. But no more. We will take over what is left of society and become more powerful than ever before. And they – the cars who laughed at us before – will worship us. They will bow down before us. And we will rule, the supreme master of all!"
"But that will be an unhappy life," I whispered sadly. This was me. The real me. Ever since I became a spy, I had ridden myself of all emotions that may have been a weakness. But no matter how hard I tried, Finn and I just couldn't. And Sid, too. We were us. And maybe that was what made us so feared through the criminal world. It was because that we were not only ruthless and could kill, we could express emotion to an extent that made us who we were, and not dead, cold assassins. We were us. Emotions gave you the strength, the power you needed to fight back, and not for yourself, but for the ones you loved. Selflessness.
And maybe that was why we succeeded almost every single time. But not this time.
I struggled to keep my emotions at bay as they shoved me forwards into the mouth of the huge machine. The Professor was watching me with a triumphant gleam in his dead, grey eyes. You fool, I thought, you will never be able to know what real power is. Or the real definition of power, the strength behind it, the strength that will help you fight.
The huge jaws of the machine came at me, chomping in my direction, wanting to transform me into a piece of scrap metal, into nothing but a cube. As it came down upon me, as it started to turn me into a perfect cube, I thought my last thoughts. My last thought was not whether the lemons would be stopped or not.
My last thought before I died was whether I would see my parents again, meeting them again, up in the sky, where our paths would cross again. A bright cross in the sky. I hoped Finn would be okay. I hoped I wouldn't have to see him up in the sky, not for a long time yet. I didn't want him to die. To meet my family up in the sky would be a relief. And the sky shone bright, in beautiful not-faded colours of pinks and soft blues. And the cross, a bright white cross, hovering in the sky, waiting for me. Their tyres were extended for me, and I wanted to join them. But even if I didn't, I felt as if I had no choice. I was being pushed towards the cross, and towards the soft pink sky. Good luck, Finn, I thought. And that was my last thought, before I saw nothing but whiteness.
3rd person/Narrator POV
There was nothing more of the once-great spy, Leland Turbo, but a cube. A folded red cube, in all its perfection from the machine. His number-plate was visible: 63 TRBO. And yet, inexplicably, his eyes were still open. The clear blue eyes slowly disappeared behind those red eyelids, and as he took his last breath, his eyes closed, leaving nothing but red paint, streaked almost like blood. Leland Turbo's eyes were closed.
And he would never open them again.