Prologue

Fog had been obscuring his surroundings for several hours now, and Miles could finally admit to himself that he had lost all hope of recognizing where in the world he was. All he knew was that he had somehow wound up in some kind of forest... which was odd, really, because last time he checked, he was supposed to be in a desert. For the millionth time since his departure to circumnavigate the globe, he wondered if forgoing the GPS had really been such a good idea.

At the moment, however, the fact that he was completely lost was the least of his concerns. What really troubled him was that he was definitely a long way from civilization and he had just run out of gas. He kept checking his supplies, in the vain, desperate hope that he would find a tank left that he might have overlooked before, but it was no use. He had nothing. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere, without any means to call for help. All he could do now was wait as he rusted away, which shouldn't take too long, in this humid weather.

Stupid! Stupid! He was so stupid! That was what he kept telling himself, like some sort of anti-mantra, sometimes in the privacy of his mind, sometimes out loud. It wasn't like it made any difference, since there was no one here to hear him. The cars who knew him would certainly have been shocked to see him now, though. The confident, smooth oil baron Sir Miles Axlerod, lost in a jungle and out of fuel – irony of all ironies –, caked with mud and who knew what else, freaking out and cursing himself like a lunatic. Why had he done this to himself? Why had he gone along with this harebrained idea? He was already rich and respected by all, so why did he still feel the need to do these things?

"I know why."

Miles froze, his eyes as wide as they could be. Had he... just heard a voice? Had he even been talking out loud before he'd heard it? But no, that was ridiculous. He was in the middle of a jungle and there was no one here, so he must be imagining things. He was so desperate that he was beginning to lose his mind. And yet, even as he tried to cling to his sanity, the voice just kept talking to him.

"It's because you want to prove yourself."

Maybe the voice was his conscience, he tried to reason with himself. Yet, for some reason, his conscience had a very creepy voice with a Russian accent...

"The world tried to convince you that you are worthless. That's why you keep trying to prove yourself to the world. Being rich just isn't enough. Being knighted isn't enough. Nothing is ever enough. You say you are respected by all, but deep down, you know you aren't, because no one respects the real you, no ones really knows you. If they did, they would never respect you."

A very bright light suddenly hit Miles' eyes, momentarily blinding him. He blinked and squinted, noting that a dark shape was forming before him. It was a dark car, with a single headlight in the middle of his bumper. He could very vaguely see a pair of cold eyes staring piercingly at him. It was all Miles could do not to start shaking at the menacing sight.

The mysterious car rolled forwards, smiling at him.

"In other words, you are like me," he concluded.

Miles just stared at him, too confused and shocked to say anything.

"I know your secret," the dark car then said, his eyes and his smile turning more malicious.

His secret, what...?

His confusion must have showed, because the other car frowned and elaborated, "I know you're a 'lemon'."

That word, that despicable word that had haunted him in the past, seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he was suddenly fully alert.

"Who are you?" he demanded to know. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"My name is Zil," said the dark car, with a courteous nod. "As to how I found you... Well, I followed you."

"What?"

"Actually, I've been following you for a while now," said Zil, as if there were nothing unusual or disturbing about that at all. "I've been watching your every move."

Miles shuddered. How long had this creeper been stalking him? Surely only for a couple of hours at most?

"W-wait, so... Am I in Russia or what?"

"Oh, no, you're in Venezuela, actually. I've been following you all the way, so I know."

Well, that wasn't reassuring at all. Still, Miles endeavoured to keep relatively calm and make sense of this whole thing.

"I don't understand," he admitted. "Why have you been following me? Did someone send you to—"

"Nobody sent me," Zil cut him off. "I've been following you because I need someone with your financial resources and your charisma to aid me in my plan. I just had to make sure you were fit for the job. And you are! You are just perfect."

"You're not making any sense!" said Miles. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Listen, I am a lemon, just like you," said Zil, dropping his pleased smile. "That means we want the same thing, wouldn't you agree? You, too, want revenge on those who have humiliated you!"

Miles shook his hood, unable to believe this insanity.

"You've got it all wrong! I don't care about that."

Zil looked taken aback and just stared at him, as if Miles were the nut job here.

"Yes, I've been humiliated, but that's all in the past now. I've got over it," said Miles firmly. "All I care about is my oil business now."

Recovering from his surprise, Zil smirked again. "Well, then I have some news for you, my friend. Your business is going down. You've been gone for several weeks. Did you really expect your company to survive that long without you?"

That gave Miles pause. He hadn't really realized how long he had been gone.

"Besides," Zil went on, "it doesn't look like you're going anywhere."

Miles' frown deepened. He couldn't deny the truth of Zil's words...

"But that's all right. If it's money you want, that can be easily arranged. If you agree to help me, I will save you from rusting away in this jungle and save your business. By the time we're done with my plan, you will be even richer than you already are, I guarantee."

Miles hesitated. He was convinced that this Zil was completely off his rocker, and he couldn't bring himself to trust him at all.

Zil looked away to direct his gaze – and Miles' attention – to a small gas tankard next to him. Miles eyed it hungrily.

"There's just enough here for you to make it out of the jungle, although you may still have to crawl a bit of the way." Zil lowered his voice to add, almost like a purr, "Wouldn't it be a shame if a successful car like you were to perish in a place like this, all alone and pathetic?"

Miles gritted his teeth, finding it very difficult to focus on anything other than that tankard.

"You don't have to worry about anything. I can help you. It will be the best thing that has ever happened to you. We can both get what we want, if only you agree to help me."

It was practically blackmail. Either help the crazy stalker, or die in the jungle. The way Miles saw it, he had no choice. He just couldn't end like this. He wasn't ready to give up now and lose everything.

"Fine, fine, I'll help you! Just give me that bloody tankard!"

Triumphant, Zil pushed the tankard towards Miles. "If you go north," he started, indicating the right direction, "you will find a group of journalists filming a documentary about the jungle. They'll help you. Try not to get lost again, because you only have that one tankard. I'll see you again... soon." He turned around and began to leave, but paused for a moment to add, "Oh, by the way... you had better not tell anyone about me."

A/N: Upon reading the official art book, I found out that this Russian car, Zil, was originally supposed to be the villain in Cars 2. Although I do like Axlerod as a villain, I think I like him better as a non-villain, and besides, I thought a lot of things about his plan didn't even make sense. This fic will try to make sense of it by having Zil as the real mastermind and Axlerod as the guy who was dragged into the scheme to act as Zil's puppet.

I'm still working on the development of the plot, but I hope you like the premise so far. ^^