Holley sighed. She was tired, her eyes drooping slightly with each blink. It was three in the morning when Finn had radioed her, instructing her to meet him at the diner three blocks away from her apartment. Despite her rather loud arguments against this, he insisted she came. The road was dark and desolate, the Jaguar finding herself to be the only one awake at the early hour. Streetlamps on either side of the street barely illuminated the way, all the shop front's signs had all been turned off hours prior. Grumbling, she pulled into the driveway of the Café, not seeing her elder partner anywhere.

"OK Finn, I'm here." She spoke into her radio, not at all amused by the dark and cold London morning.

"Splendid timing, Miss Shiftwell." A suave voice said from beside her. She jumped slightly, becoming used o the Aston Martin's sudden entries and exits. He was looking at her innocently, as if it wasn't three am, forty-eight degrees, and he hadn't ripped her from the best sleep she'd had in days. He smiled, sipping a steaming cup of tea.

"…Where did you get that?" Holley asked, curious. "Never mind, I don't care. Why did you call me out so early? Couldn't it have waited until morning?" She reprimanded herself. She allowed herself to be more relaxed with her attitude around Finn, seeing as how they were now partners in crime so to speak.

"Well, we have a new mission. But if you want we could wait until morning, but that would mean less time in a small desert town in the middle of America…" Finn trailed off, a smug undertone laced every word he spoke. He knew that the mention of their mission location would catch her attention, even at the ungodly hour.

The drowsiness that was hazing her mind was instantly gone. She turned, glancing at her partner as he stared out into the empty night. She waited for the punch line, but it never came.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Siddley's waiting for us. We best be going." Finn countered with a calm voice. He always was a morning person; finding the early morning pleasant. He pulled out onto the road, making his way towards the field in which the spy plane was waiting patient, and probably partaking in multiple cups of coffee.

Holley quickly drove after him, choosing to remain quiet until they got to the plane. She knew that not only the walls had ears, but that they could also talk in every language. She kept close to her partner, not wanting to lose him in the darkened streets of the calm corner of London.

She didn't really notice when they reached the unkempt fields on the outskirts of the city. The long grass tickled her fenders and brushed softly against her wheels and rims. She could feel the moist dirt turn into the hard metal of Siddley's boarding ramp.

"So, what is our mission about this time?" The magenta car asked. It had been three months since the Allinol and the World Grand Prix, but the missions never seemed to stop. This would make her and Finn's third and a half mission, the half was a complete accident but it counted none the less.

They didn't feel it when Siddley took off, taking them to the distant land of America in the dark night.

"There's been a rash of disappearances in the Ornament Valley area. The disappearances aren't only in the Radiator Springs area, they reach as far west as Santa Carburera and as far north as Motoropolis. These have been happening for the past three years, but have become more frequent in the last six months." Finn pushed a disc towards the Jaguar. "This disc holds a large amount of the missing persons, but we need to stop off in town and get the rest. Sheriff should have what we are looking for. And you can spend some time with Sir Mater while we are there."

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Alarms blared in the distance, lights flickering on down the length of the corridor. The polished white tile reflected the harsh lights that extended down the length of the hallway. To either side were open doorways; the only thing keeping the prisoners locked inside was an emancipation grid, which could vaporize them if they attempted escape.

He whistled a merry tune as he meandered down the hallway, much to the anger of his fellow prisoners. He just grinned, holding his hood high as he drove slowly, as if to rub it in their faces. Guards passed by his petit figure, completely ignoring the escaped figure.

"Ha… wunderbar… they haven't a clue…" He whispered half to himself. The distraction he caused was leading the guards away from the main issue.

"Zundapp! Hey! Over here!" A familiar British voice called out to him, making the Janus turn slightly. Axelrod was sitting by his doorway, waving a tire frantically. His army green figure was dull from months without polish, dust in the crevices of his tires.

"Ah, Sir Axelrod… How are you doing? It seems you have been moved out of the maximum security vault…" Zundapp trailed off, his German accent mangling the English words that he didn't grow up speaking. He spoke smugly, giving the jeep a condescending look through his monocle, crooked teeth forming a malicious smile.

"Ah, yes, yes. Good behavior and what not… Anyways, would you be a dear and let your old pal out of here? I'd be ever so grateful…" Axelrod was groveling at the smaller car's tires, and Zundapp relished in the power he had over the once proud and egotistical billionaire.

"That's the thing… I can't do that in good conscious."

Alarms continued to blare; screeching tires in the distance signified the search for the missing prisoner had begun. Axelrod stared at his former colleague with a look of pure shock.

"C'mon mate… We could turn up a pint, and plot new ways to rule the world… eh?"

"Hmm…" Zundapp pretended to ponder over the decision, looking off into a corner, noticing a security camera aimed right at him. His curious glare morphed quickly into an evil smirk. He looked back at the pitiful sight of the Range Rover, watching him ramble on about this and that. The bright blue eyes portrayed a dark innocence in the British car, creating the familiar sensation that Zundapp never really did like.

"Alright, but first, let's get you out of there, shall we?"

Zundapp reached into the grid, smiling at the discovered fact that only things coming out would be maimed. He gripped the larger car's tire in his own, before roughly yanking the Range Rover out of the grid.

"W-wait! The Grid…!" The dull green Range Rover found his body being pulled through the transparent screen easily. Feeling the light blue electricity pass over him, he emerged on the other side, standing before the surprisingly strong Zundapp.

Axelrod felt the chill of the air outside of his cell, the stark contrast of cool air conditioning to the stagnate air of his confinement area sent chills throughout his body. His tires touched the icy tile, feeling nothing but cold. He could see that the professor wasn't reacting to the odd frigid sensations that were creeping up from the floor. He looked down, awkwardly seeing the faint outline of his tires. He could see the black rubber turn white, before flaking off in white squares. A white line, misty and transparent outlined his chassis, creating the sense of cold nothingness. Beyond it was a grid-like pattern that was inching its way up his sides and fenders. Axelrod gasped, watching his body flake away into nothingness.

"Oops, guess I forgot about the emancipation grid. Don't worry though; I hear it's very painful…" Zundapp smiled, speaking in a light and melodic voice, almost as if he was speaking to a child. His dark smile grew colder as he watched his former employer vanish into the air around him.

Axelrod screamed. The green car panicked, trying to shake of the whiteness that was enveloping his figure. It seemed almost to speed up with the jerky movements, reaching the top of his roof. The grey eyes of Zundapp watched as the form before him flickered, then exploded, sending the tiny glowing fragments every which way before they too faded.

He glanced back up to the camera, insanity gleaming in his eyes.

"Guten Tag…" he let his smile fade, before turning down the hallway, leaving the silent hallway behind. He continued to whistle his tune, except this time the only echoes accompanying him were the fading screams of the Range Rover.

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The police cruiser rested low on his shocks, his curb feelers touching the warm sand. He sighed softly, the sound barely traveling a few feet. His black and white paint absorbed a tremendous amount of heat, calming him from his tedious job of waiting for something eventful to happen. Sheriff had always loved his profession, especially when he could relax in the cool shade of the Ornament Valley billboard.

Today had seemed different for some reason. The policeman couldn't seem to get comfortable in his usual spot, the endless and empty road making him abnormally nervous. He fidgeted again, shifting his weight from axel to axel.

Sheriff sighed, before pulling out onto Route 66, headed back for the sleepy town of Radiator Springs. He figured that he could get his engine looked at by Ramone, get something cool to drink at Flo's and return to his post after a long break.

The pale asphalt suddenly became black as he approached the small town, the rough road becoming smooth. Lightning's work had held up for five years, the paint hadn't faded either. It was a short, but nice patch of pavement.

"Howdy Sheriff!" The show girl called as he pulled into the gas station.

"Afternoon, Flo." Sheriff responded warmly. Pulling into the shaded overhang, he spoke with a few visitors and residents. The pale green Motorama car pulled up, she and Sheriff speaking lightly about the weather and trivial things. She had brought him a quart of his usual, earning a surprised thank you from the sheriff.

Someone called out to Flo, asking for a refill, interrupting the two's friendly banter.

"Coming right up hon!" Flo turned to drive off, before looking back at the black and white officer and adding softly, "There's someone looking for you down by your office. He looked pretty upset… Hold your horses, I'm comin'!"

Sheriff sighed, his job never ceasing to pester him at the most inopportune time. He rose off his shocks, reversing slightly so he could exit the crowded area without bumping into anyone. He went to drive forward, turning in the direction of the small town's police department, but a suave voice caused him to slam on his breaks.

"Good day, Sherriff." The Aston Martin seemed to appear out of nowhere, a friendly smile greeting the Police Cruiser.

"Well hey there Finn!" Sheriff returned the smile. "You finally get that vacation time?"

"Sadly no, I'm here on business." The Aston Martin drove forward slightly, encouraging the policeman to continue towards his practice. "I actually need something of you."

"Oh?" Sheriff replied, "And what would that be?"

"I am in need of the records of every car that has gone missing in the area."

"Well, I should have the records in my office; you're welcome to come along. Flo told me there was someone there that needed me…" Sheriff trailed off, seeing splashes of color in front of the police office.

The two drove closer, Sheriff's surprised look turned into a frown upon seeing who it was.

A panicky Gashi fidgeted by the doorway, debating as whether to stay or go. Nearby, a Bragatron and Reko-do waited patiently for the Gashi to decide. The Aston Martin had never seen a car with such a large spoiler, or such a colorful paint job. He could only wonder as to why the young car would be so nervous of the building before them.

"Hey, tuner."

The gruff voice made Wingo jump, turning quickly to see the Sheriff and an unfamiliar Aston Martin a few yards behind him. The blue car looked curious, oblivious to the Police Cruiser's irritation.

"H-hey Sheriff… Nice d-day isn't it…? Um, I would… Uh… I n-n-need to… n-need to…" Wingo stuttered, as if nervous. In reality, the words wanted to be said, but his mind couldn't come to grips with what he wanted to say. He trailed on like this for a minute or two, rambling on about nothing.

The Aston Martin looked down at the much younger car, which could only be as old as Holley. He knew the look in the brown eyes well enough to place it without much doubt. He had seen that look worn by many cars at many funerals and debriefings, and probably wore it himself before as well.

Sheriff on the other hand, had no clue as to what the delinquent could possibly want. His constant stuttering and out of character behavior was a stark contrast to the cocky and brash tuner he was used to seeing at his headquarters. Finally he had had enough of the Gashi's rambling "What do you want?"

Wingo cowered under the angry sheriff's glare, before murmuring quietly. "I would like to file a Missing Persons Report." He looked down at the ground, as if ashamed by the words that left his lips.

Finn drove forward, trying to look as neutral as possible. A glance to his colorful friends got their attention, and they drove forward sheepishly, looking as nervous as their friend. "Why don't we go inside? I am going to need to talk to all three of you."

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Wingo shifted uncomfortably in the clean office. Usually his visits in the small room entailed a parking boot on one of his tires, and a stern glare from the resident police officer. He glanced at Snot Rod, who appeared to be as uncomfortable as him. Wingo had been the first to be questioned by the Aston Martin, followed by Snot Rod, but was bored and awkward waiting for the questioning to finish with DJ.

The Gashi looked up to the ceiling, before shifting his gaze to the floor and back again. His eyes flitted to the walls, shifting his weight to one side.

"Oi, Wingo."

Snot Rod's deep voice startled him immensely, making him start. He looked at the orange muscle car, who returned his gaze with a serious expression. Wingo recoiled lightly under the cool blue gaze, ashamed for being so nervous in a place they had been multiple times before.

"Why don't you go to the Café? I can wait for DJ."

Not wanting to argue, Wingo silently nodded, driving out the wide glass doors that led to the outside world. He drove solemnly to the café, ordering a drink and tried to relax.

Wingo sighed, staring up at the blue sky. His normally bright brown eyes were dull with depression. He watched as grey clouds drifted lazily across the sky, bringing the hope of rain. His can of gasoline had long since grown warm, a red Miata brought it to him cold. The shade felt freezing, but he couldn't muster up the strength to move into the blinding sunlight.

The private investigator had asked him standard questions about Boost, where he went to school, how the two were related, what they normally did in their free time, what job he held. Others were more personal, like what he thought was out of character for the Kyoku or how he reacted to the other's disappearance.

He missed his close friend more than any of the others. He recalled meeting him while on suspension from school; he broke the strict dress code once again by coming to school in pink and yellow leopard print. They were attending different elementary schools, but found more in common with each other than anyone else they had met. They grew older and created the Delinquent Road Hazards after graduating high school. They had never been apart, being best friends.

He sighed again, the melancholy emotions threatening to draw tears from the Gashi. He focused on the pavement in front of him, the cracks few and far between and the texture sandy. Wingo finally noticed that he was covered in dust from rims to spoiler, but didn't care.

"Calculations confirm that Transberry flavored gasoline produces a displeasing taste when heated over 54 degrees."

Wingo glanced up, his eyes meeting a blinding white paint job. The car was looking blankly down at him, pale eyes watching the Gashi with interest.

"Um… can I help you?" Wingo asked nervously, he wasn't really in the mood to talk with random strangers.

"Do you feel pain?" Was the monotone reply. The car simply continued to watch him, observing the reactions. "Data infers that frowns are associated with sadness and anger."

Wingo glared at the plain car. He glanced to his side and noticed an odd barcode, black and obvious on the side of the pale car. Finally he spoke. "If I said 'no' I'd be lying." He murmured with a sad chuckle.

The white car looked expectantly at the purple and green tuner, as if asking for more without saying it outright. Pale eyes searched the sad expression on the Gashi, finding a distant look in his watery eyes. His own expression remained neutral at the odd display.

"My best friend went missing recently. They're working on finding him, but I'm worried anyways. I mean, what if I never see him again..?" Wingo started, speaking quietly. He wasn't really sure if he should even be talking about this to anyone.

"What do you intend on doing if the outcome is not favorable?" Was the blank reply.

The Gashi's undercarriage tensed slightly at the cold and emotionless words. He turned with a dumbfounded expression to face the stock car, who countered with an equally blank face. They looked at each other for a few minutes, before Wingo's face faltered and he looked at the concrete pad solemnly.

"Well, I dunno. Guess I'd go home and open a paint shop, do custom works. Maybe ghost with DJ and Snot Rod… When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade right?"

"Inadequate philosophy. Return the lemons to life."

Wingo laughed, feeling the persistent unhappiness lifting of a moment. Boost had said something along the same lines. When Wingo would use the phrase, he would always demand to see life's manager, or burn down life's house with combustible lemons. He smiled for the first time in three days.

"Ahaha… Boost used to say the same thing." The Gashi glanced up, seeing DJ exiting the sheriff's office with Snot Rod. "Well, gotta ghost. Never did get your name?"

"I am a VIN."

"Vin? Alright then. Catch ya on the flip side!" Wingo sped off, meeting his friends with a smile that was returned.

Vin watched him go, with an odd look shining in his lilac eyes. Something was stirring in his systems, unable to pinpoint what exactly was bothering him. He felt conflicted, suddenly the need to drive spurred within his mind. As he raced down the opposite direction that the tuners went, he whispered sadly, letting emotions seep into his voice for the first time.

"Farewell."

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Oh my god I am so sorry that took so long to spit out! Yeah, I am continuing this, but to be fully honest I only have half an idea on where it's going. Anyways, I am proud of the Zundapp and Wingo and Boost sections, but not much else. I cannot write those British lunatics for the life of me… please forgive me… I even read most of the fics of them to get a better idea but as you can see that didn't help…

I had to restart playing the game to get all the VIN quotes, so you'll be seeing lost of them, but I won't tell you which ones they are. You can figure it out; I know there are smart people hanging around somewhere.

Plus so many Portal references!

Anyways, again, one of my New Year's resolutions was to respond to the many reviews I hope to get this year for my stories, so here we go! Plus, they are in order from earliest, so yeah.

Samantha Spanner- To be fully honest, when you mentioned saws hanging from the ceiling, I wasn't sure what you were talking about. But when I replayed the game, I found the MotorCo shortcut. Oh god, I couldn't believe how semi-accurate I was with this! I squealed so loudly my parents came into the room asking what was wrong lol. Plus I hope this answered your question!

Mighty ANT- I am so happy you enjoyed it! I can only hope this can compete with the first chapter, even though I know it can't… the game is fun, except when you are going after the 'boss' races, when the things they yell at you get really annoying and make you scream at the TV…

Itsfinnmcmissile- You got your wish as its being continued! My computer is really mad at your username though, it keeps telling me it's misspelled, even though I know its right! And don't worry. Boost will/will not be tortured immensely…

Guess who forgot to put a disclaimer? Cars/Cars 2 ©Disney/Pixar