Disclaimer: Please note that the opinions held by the characters are not necessarily those held by the author. Further, I am not associated with Mattel or Mainframe, and hold no rights to the Hot Wheels line. (However much I may want to.) Finally, certain characters and a location from Battle Force 5 will be used in this story, but have all been changed slightly to fit into the Highway 35 continuity; don't expect to see Stormshocks, Sentients, or Battle Zones.

Chapter 1: A New Year

1/2/2007 (Present Day)
Highway 35, Nevada

The sun beat down on the tarmac as heavily as it had forty years ago, no matter that it was the middle of winter now. The air shimmered silently with heat, the desert creatures having crept beneath the occasional shrubs and boulders to escape being boiled alive by the hostile brightness. The road was empty, as nobody was insane enough to drive down a deserted Nevada highway that led nowhere, with these temperatures.

And it was a good thing, too, for they would have been at a loss to explain the two-story tall, long and narrow black and green monstrosity that was parked just off the side. The vehicle had two massive front wheels and four only slightly smaller rear wheels, all fitting neatly into the frame. Below a small green-windowed cockpit was the construct's main defining feature – a wide, gaping opening wide enough to swallow a car and tall enough to fit a small truck. Set behind the opening was a wheel with six silver panels, designed to spin around and sweep any captured vehicles into the behemoth's main hold. Indeed, this thing had struck nothing less than abject terror into the hearts of those drivers unfortunate enough to face it. It was nothing but supreme irony that it had also saved those driver's very lives.

Though it also seemed that it may not be able to save them from the intense heat outside. Even with the sweeping wheel lowered, there was still too much space for the hot air to enter, and the shade only did so much. "Apparently the drones never heard of air conditioning," muttered Nolo Pasaro. A Hispanic teen fresh into adulthood, he looked unhealthily skinny with his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his narrow frame, his shoulder-length hair frizzing in the heat. He was leaning against the purple-tinted window of the group's only remaining car, Nitrium, trying to take relief from the cold glass and meeting only limited success.

Arrayed around the sweeper's interior were several others, also suffering from the heat. They were very clearly delineated into three groups; the Metal Maniacs, the Teku, and the Command Crew.

Of the rough-and-ready Metal Maniacs, there were five. Tork Maddox, dark and burly with a shock of hair and a tire tread worn like a vest, was sitting down against one wall with his head in his hands. Taro Kitano, a quiet asian man with an imposing frame seemed the least affected, though it could very well be that he wasn't letting his weakness be seen. Mark Wylde, with one arm covered in tattoos, the other replaced with a black-and green prosthetic that matched the sweeper's aesthetic, and with some faint purple bruises marring his face, was simply playing absentmindedly playing with the bottled water he'd been given, his mind miles away. Porkchop, sitting on Nitrium's hood, was a well-built southerner with bright red hair and thick mutton chops. Finally, sticking out from his teammates by his rather smaller stature was Monkey, with a long chin and a constantly nervous expression.

The Teku, more streamlined and modernistic, numbered only four at the moment, including Nolo. Kurt Wylde, skinny and introspective and with gravity-defying upward-spiked hair, was carefully rationing his own water. Karma Eiss, with her brown hair in a ponytail and having removed her usual blue jacket in a futile attempt to beat the heat, was gazing at her water bottle as if willing the contents to spontaneously freeze. And finally, there was Shirako Takamoto, a Japanese man gently bobbing his head to the music blasting through his headphones, though even he was clearly wilted under the current conditions, having had chugged through his entire water bottle an hour ago.

Finally, there was Lani Tam and Sparky. Lani, a petite Hawaiian woman with hoop earrings and a big ponytail, was leaning against the ladder leading to the upper deck, fanning herself with one hand. Sparky, meanwhile, was dancing around cheerfully, unaffected by the heat in the slightest. He was, after all, a robot, built with pieces of a Racing Drone and various scrap left lying around, and wearing a red baseball cap perched jauntily atop his metallic head. "Hello." He said, and sparked. Everyone else just gave vague groans and mutters in response.

The rhythmic clang of metal on metal announced the arrival of the group's final member moments before he appeared at the top of the ladder. Lani quickly moved aside to allow Doctor Tezla to climb down, a task already made difficult by his motorized exosuit. Though it looked menacing and made him look rather intimidating, in all actuality it was rather weak, and without it, the good doctor would be completely helpless. Still, one wouldn't know just from looking at him; even as he hesitantly made his way down to the main hold, he kept a carefully neutral expression aided by his sleek and opaque purple glasses.

Once he had made it safely to the floor, he turned around to begin. "Now, while we have unanimously decided to find our missing member, Vert, I do believe we need a more… detailed plan." He strode over to Nitrium, placing an arm possessively atop the dome roof.

Tork stood up, stretching his arms out. "Well, before anything else, I think we need to get out of this heat, and get more water. What we do have won't last long with eleven of us." Earlier, Lani had driven Nitrium to the town about five miles down the road to pick up the water they were currently drinking, and had in the process discovered that it was now the second of Febuary. The cataclysmic battle that had evicted the group from their former base had taken place on New Year's Eve.

Kurt stood up, glancing at Nolo briefly; the Teku leader shrugged, and so the older Wylde brother threw in his two cents. "After that, we need cars. This Sweeper will attract too much attention, and won't drive too well off-road."

"And," Lani added quickly, "We'll need them to get back into the Acceledrome. I don't know what state it'll be in, but I think it would be a good idea to salvage as much as we can."

Tezla nodded. "Food, shelter, and cars. It's good to see we all have our priorities straight." With his purple glasses obscuring his eyes, it was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "The former should be fairly simple to attain, and as for the latter, I may be able to help at least some of you with that."

Unknown Time
Unknown Location

A dark sky, weighted down by thick black clouds, hovered uneasily over the emerald city. Once known as "Hot Wheels City" by those who had rediscovered it, it had since been corrupted, rebuilt from the ground up, into the twisted and evil location that now housed the Racing Drones. The skyline, imposing and terrifying as it was, was impressive, with many tall spires looming overhead. But in the very center was the tallest of them all, a towering structure with many buttresses and several outward spikes housing balconies and turrets.

At the very base of the tower, well below the main roads, lay a body. It was splayed out across the ground, arms and legs in all directions, and only the faint rise and fall of the being's chest showed that it still lived. All was still and silent, until with a halting, shuddering motion, the body stood up, and Kadeem opened his eyes.

"Where…" He muttered, looking about him. His memories were fuzzy; he remembered something about lightning, and then a city of green and black. It seemed he was still in that city, though in a rather unfamiliar part of it. There was something else in the back of his mind, some unfamiliar sensation and a feeling that there was something inherently wrong about this, but he ignored it for now. He picked a direction and began walking away from the tower, as he struggled to recall how he had come to be here. The lightning… a strong storm… the storm realm! He had been knocked off the road, was falling slowly downward… someone, a friend, tried to save him but failed… a green bolt burnt his parachute to nothingness… and then impact with the track far below. Then how was he still alive?

A strange sound came from up ahead, and Kadeem quickly darted into an alcove. His own speed surprised him, but he ignored that as he peered around the corner. Ahead of him, only a few yards away, were two cars parked, both sporting the same black-and-green color scheme as the rest of the city. The nearer one was wide and low, with two cockpits side-by-side, and a pair of extremely long fins extending from the back. The further one was a touch taller, but also had a somewhat smaller area – it had a single large cockpit, and two pointed antenna-looking things coming from the rear wheel wells. Some unfamiliar part of his mind instinctually labeled them as RD-02 and RD-06, respectively.

As Kadeem watched, two robotic beings stepped out of the building across from his and strode over to the cars. Their rounded heads and relatively wide torsos identified them as Soldier Units… RD-S%? Kadeem frowned; somehow he felt that the proper identification was RD-S2, but there was another part of his mind vehemently insisting they were S1 units. But that wasn't even what was bothering him; the real concern was why he cared so much, either way. The drones were the enemy, after all – What was important was that they were stopped.

The sound of engines revving brought his attention back to the present situation; the soldier units had entered their vehicles, and were now driving further down the road. Kadeem shrunk back into his hiding spot as they passed, searchlights sweeping back and forth across the empty alien street. Once they were gone, he sprinted forward into the building they had just vacated, finding a set of stairs and traversing it as his thoughts wandered once more, blissfully ignorant to the sounds of drone metal clanging down on the steps.

After the Storm Realm, what had happened? Here, his memories became a thick fog that obscured all; he could just barely sense that they had all taken place within this dark city. There was a woman, a queen…

Kadeem burst out onto the tower's roof, and suddenly it all came back to him. He barely registered the horrifying tableau of the corrupted city before him, collapsing down onto his metal knees and clutching his head, flooded by far more horrifying recollection. The woman was Gelorum, and he had been her prisoner. He had been forced to watch as she sent her drones into the realms; the one victory his allies attained in the Swamp Realm only spurred her to create a new weapon, the sweeper.

And then she had told him… everything. How the Accelerons had created the drones, how she led them in an uprising, and how their creators had withdrawn, abandoning them on earth. How they left something else for the small, still-developing creatures on the planet's surface, while the Drones fell into hibernation. And then she…

Kadeem shuddered. There was toxic green light everywhere, and pain, so much pain that it overwhelmed him, and he had fallen mercifully unconscious for the remainder of the process. What had happened after that, was genuinely unclear in his memories; another mind had been in control, and the experiences hadn't properly encoded. He had only been half-aware at the time, drifting in and out of consciousness. He recalled trying to push against the other mind and elicting little but small twitches here and there… and he remembered giving his all to open his fingers, choosing to fall where the other mind would have swung back onto the balcony. Why, though, was lost to him.

And now he was back again. He didn't know why, but he was in control again, the other mind reduced to telling him the names of things. But there was something else…

Reluctantly, Kadeem pushed himself back to standing, gazing out over the cityscape to avoid looking elsewhere. He drew in a ragged breath, hearing the mechanical undertone to his own voice, and let it out. He closed his eyes, a stray tear trickling down his cheek, and then looked down upon himself.

He didn't scream, he didn't cry, he didn't panic, though all three crossed his mind in quick succession. Somehow they seemed insufficient, too calm or collected for the unholy sight that met his eyes. His right arm was now clad in black armour, while his waist and below had been entirely replaced. He now stood on double-jointed legs, with lime-green wires glowing beneath black plating, and square toes that doubled as headlights. Reaching up to feel his back, he found that there were now spikes running down from each shoulder, and a bundle of wires extended from the nape of his neck to join the tangled mass in his ponytail, though to his surprise, some had come loose and were hanging uselessly down along his spine. Finally, he ran his human hand over his forehead, feeling bumps and grooves where the strange symbol adorned on every drone's head had been imprinted.

But that was not all; he could feel sensations within his own body that the brain usually filtered out; cold metal pushing against his lungs, while his heart felt like it was gone entirely, replaced with a mechanical substitute. It felt wrong, and that alone drove him to his knees again. But worst of all was in his head – his own brain remained intact, but now he could feel something else, a bundled mass of wires and circuits advanced far beyond human capability, pushed up against it in the back, where a hole had been cut through his skull…

Kadeem didn't know how long he lay there, sobbing unabashedly at what had been done to him, but after some time, the tears dried. His expression became blank, eerily so, and he calmly stood up, a single thought running through his head. He walked forward, the drone legs clanking against the roofing, until he stood at the very edge, looking down at the road far below. Part of him questioned this course of action, and he took a half-step back. But then the other mind chipped in as well; do not destroy yourself, human! His mind made up, Kadeem stepped back forward, balancing with a catlike grace atop the slight raised portion.

But then, before he realized what was happening, he twitched. The drone arm raised independent of his will, reaching back to select one of the free wires, and plugging it back into the port in his neck. Kadeem stepped back from the edge.

He screamed, though there was no outward sound, and wrestled within himself. The other mind was resilient, and now just enough control had been restored that the field was even, so to speak. The body twitched here and there, but otherwise remained eerily still, the same calm expression belying the struggle that was taking place within.

Hours passed before there was a victor. The body known as Kadeem stood up from its crouching position, and once more stepped toward the edge. He peered down at the street, then smirked and turned away, taking the stairs back down.

It was time to check in on his drones.

1/2/2007
Small Road near State Route 29, Florida

A car roared down a long, sinuous road, disturbing the otherwise serene quiet of the surrounding wetlands, and sending flocks of birds to rising from the treetops as they blurred past. It was a rather unusual vehicle that had attracted more than a few curious glances back on the main highways, all the way from Texas. From above, it could almost resemble the head of a trident; with three upraised sections coming to rounded points at the front, curving inward at the back and raising to form a spoiler over the middle section. The two lower portions between allowed access to both the sleek, jet-like cockpit, and the engine behind it, which was also protected by a smaller glass canopy. Headlights shone brightly from the tips of the outer tines, illuminating the darkening road as the sun began to set. The vehicle was painted in a glossy and reflective black color, with slight gold speckling, with cheetah-print racing stripes along the sides between the wheel wells. Hidden beneath the spoiler, positioned so none but the vehicle's driver even knew it was there, was a symbol depicting a roaring fanged mouth, and a name – Roadbeasts. It was a defunct symbol now, had been for four years, but the driver had kept it as a pleasant reminder.

The actual driver, her slender frame ideal for the otherwise cramped confines of the car's cockpit, was grinning to herself despite the leaden feeling in her arms and legs. Esmerelda Sanchez had set out yesterday, so it was with no small sense of relief that she was finally approaching her destination. She accelerated again, just barely brushing the speed limit, enjoying the sensation of this powerful car at her back once more; after too long in mothballs, she imagined that if it had a mind of its own, Power Pistons would have been glad to be free as well.

A road sign up ahead caught her attention, and she slowed down a bit to read it. Five more miles to her destination; she'd be there soon. Sighing and lifting off the gas pedal a bit, Esmerelda briefly glanced at the small computer screen to the right of the steering column. Maybe it had been sheer dumb luck that she'd been in the garage cleaning out the car when it had come online for the first time in four years, but either way she was glad she hadn't missed it. The message was brief, playing three times repeatedly before shutting off again, but it was enough to set her to packing her bags and cancelling appointments. It wasn't that she was unsatisfied with her present life, but even if there wasn't a bit of a thrill at the danger and speed of racing properly again, the message had made it clear that a lot rode on her decision.

Esmerelda slowed to a humble twenty MPH as she entered the city limits, though "city" was perhaps doing it too much justice. It was a fairly nice town, despite its rather remote location, but covered less than a square mile. There was a gas station right by the road, and Esmerelda turned in to the parking lot and put her car in neutral as she pulled up a GPS map on the screen. "Turn left and follow Swampy street around to the intersection with Greentop Road. Turn right, and arrive at the third house on the left. Simple enough."

Following the directions took no more than two minutes. The indicated house seemed innocuous enough, sporting pink lacy curtains, pale window shutters, and flowerboxes also painted pink. The house itself was white. As she pulled into the driveway, Esmerelda couldn't help but glance at the surrounding abodes, wondering if she'd gotten bad directions somehow. The only remotely suspicious thing about this place was the large dumpster tucked in on one side, between the garage and the neighbor's fence.

Still, with no small amount of trepidation, she hit the button to open the canopy and climbed out, her vibrant red hair waving slightly in a cool night breeze. The stars twinkled serenely above as she strode up the quaint pathway to the front door, trying to ignore the tacky pink flamingos and the one real flamingo adorning the yard. She hit the doorbell, bemusedly noting that both it and the mailbox were decorated with cute cartoony kittens.

The inside front door whooshed open abruptly, and the most hideously wrinkled crone in existence squinted at Esmerelda through the screen. "Whaddaya want." She said, her voice low and gravely. A strong smell of tobacco wafted out, and it was all the younger woman could do not to choke.

"Does… Skeet… live here?" She managed, throat clogging up with barely-restrained bile. "I'm… a friend… of… his."

The older woman's expression darkened even more if that were possible, but then she suddenly smiled. It was a horrible sight. "Ya here to talk to 'im, or is he gonna go with ya?"

Esmerelda grinned nervously, sensing the dangerous tone in the hag's voice. "Uh, that really depends, but I guess I am hoping he'll come with." She jumped back as the door was slammed shut again.

"HEY! ONE O' YER STUPID FRIENDS IS HERE TO TAKE YOU AWAY! I WANT YA GONE BY SUNUP!"

The Texan could only stare in nothing less than profound bewilderment at the door as the shout rang clear through the thick wood. She had no idea what she'd expected this reunion to be like, but something like this hadn't even been close to how she'd imagined.

Soon enough, the door opened once more, and Skeet stepped out. He was glad it was dark out; his face was red enough to be used as a stop sign. The former Roadbeast hadn't changed much, sporting the same goatee and generally kind expression, though he'd let his olive hair grow out a bit more. The Florida native wore jeans and a cotton jacket over a white shirt, looking more casual than he felt. Esmerelda, for her part, looked every bit the cowgirl in her knee-high boots and flannel button-up tee; all that was missing was a Stetson.

"So… how are you?" He glanced around the yard at the pink flamingos, (the real one had disappeared, likely frightened off by Granny's shouting) trying and failing not to think about how stupid it must all look. The kittens and flowerboxes had been granny, but the flamingos were all his. "It's been a while."

"Oh, you know." Esmerelda shrugged awkwardly, finding the drainpipe at the corner of the roof suddenly fascinating. "Been doing stuff."

"Ah, stuff. I like stuff. Stuff is good." Skeet coughed.

Finally, Esmerelda facepalmed. "Okay, you know what? Come here." Grabbing him by the wrist, she dragged him back down toward the driveway, gesturing vaguely at Power Pistons. "Did you get the message too?"

Skeet straightened up, relieved at the change of subject. "Yeah, I did. I was driving to the post office when it happened; nearly gave Granny a heart attack." He seemed more disappointed that it hadn't. "But that's not the only thing I got; you need to look at this." He walked around the side of the house, where the dumpster Esmerelda had spotted earlier sat. "Later that afternoon, some guy in a dump truck dropped this off, told me to be very careful with the contents. You'll never guess what's inside." The Texan shrugged, and in response, Skeet lifted up the lid. Resting inside in neat stacks were no less than thirty-two Nitrox canisters; they looked a bit different than they used to, but the faint odor was unmistakable.

Skeet shut the lid and turned toward her. "All my message said was to wait for someone to come for me, then they'd fill me in on the rest. I take it you're that person, so…?"

Esmerelda sighed and grinned, leaning against the side of the house. "Well, it looks like someone has this all planned out. I was told to go to you, and then I was given a bunch of phone numbers; I copied 'em all down here." She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded them; there were fourteen seven-digit numbers hastily scrawled down, alongside names. Taking the list and reading by streetlight, Skeet realized they were all names from the World Race. Dune Ratz, Street Breed, Scorchers, and of course Roadbeasts; curiously, he noted that there was only one Waver Ripper on the list.

"Anything else?"

Esmerelda nodded. "They said to gather as many of these people as I- we can, then head to Tezla's cube where further instructions would be left."

Skeet sighed as it sunk in, shaking his head. "This is crazy, Es. What does the old man want us to do now, do you think? I mean, it seemed important from the way he was talking, but I just don't know about all this; it's just so sudden, out of the blue."

Esmerelda shrugged and grinned. "Hey, it'll probably be fun."

"I guess so…"

"And you can get away from your Granny."

"You know what? I'm in!"

It didn't take long for Skeet to pack up and load his luggage into Vulture; Esmerelda noted with interest that his car had seen some use even after the World Race, and she self-consciously stroked Power Pistons' dusty dashboard. Even a car as advanced as Tezla's wouldn't have done well in dusty Texas, she told herself, but the feeling persisted.

A more problematic concern was the Nitrox containers; high-tech and exotic as the vehicles were, neither was really equipped for lugging around heavy loads. Finally, Skeet had the idea of renting a U-Haul trailer from a bigger town about an hour away, and promptly disappeared. Esmerelda was relieved when Granny retired from her perch by the window, shooting nasty glares at the weirdly-shaped car in her driveway, and aside from a quick trip back to the gas station for a foul-tasting energy drink and a bathroom break, (there was no way she was going to set foot in that tobacco gas chamber of a house) most of the next two hours were spent playing Solitare on her phone or watching the stars pass overhead through Power Pistons' yellow-tinted canopy.

When Skeet returned with the promised trailer hitched awkwardly onto Vulture's fender, the next half-hour was spent carefully loading the Nitrox containers into it, one-by-one. There was a scare near the end when a container nearly slipped out of Skeet's sweaty grasp, but Esmerelda was quick to catch it. Both were frozen in position for several long moments before they began laughing in hysterical relief.

It was 3:00 AM when they finally finished up, closing the now-empty dumpster and leaving Granny's house to dwindle to thankful nothingness in their rearview mirrors. It wasn't until they were on the highway that Skeet finally rediscovered the inter-car comm. "You know, she used to be a lot nicer when I was a kid." He said conversationally.

"But I'll bet she never really looked good." Esmerelda shot back with a laugh.

"Pretty much accurate, yeah." Skeet said.

With a loud whoop, the two raced through the Everglades, neither saying what didn't need to be said: The Roadbeasts were riding again.

6/10/1966
Handler's Corners, Nevada

Julia, perhaps unsurprisingly, got the job, and within a week had learned quite a bit about life in Handler's Corners. One of the first things she discovered was that Kelly, the waitress she had met on her first day, was rather more fond of Gavril than mere friends would be, and that he was utterly oblivious to this. She also learned that Kelly didn't like her very much after her questions about Gavril's ethnicity, and on her first day in the garage, was surprised when the other woman ran in, telling the Russian man not to hire the newcomer. Julia simply gave a mild wave of greetings and turned back to the truck she was fixing; The fan belt had snapped and looped itself around several different components, and it was a Gordian knot she had to untangle before she could replace the broken belt.

Gavril, for his part, was surprised despite himself to find that she was indeed as good with cars as she claimed, making the task of employee training little more than helping her memorize where all the tools were stored. She was a quiet and efficient worker, and while he was immensely grateful for the help, was somewhat disappointed at her somewhat close-mouthed nature, rarely initiating conversation except to ask for a particular tool or some physical assistance, and often answering his own attempts at it with vague, monosyllabic answers. She seemed particularly reluctant to talk about her past, quick to change the subject or use a bathroom break when the subject was broached, and while he played along and soon enough stopped asking altogether, mentally noted that he wouldn't forget the subject entirely – perhaps she just needed some time to open up to them.

Jose, the old man who ostensibly ran the garage, spent most of his days sleeping in the same chair, though he would sometimes get up at closing time and wander to his own shack on the edge of town, presumably to sleep some more. Gavril seemed to hold the man in equal parts high regard and frustrated disappointment. "He iz a very good man, do not get me wrong." He said one afternoon as he helped Julia pulley a new engine block into a car that had completely wrecked the old one out in the salt flats, "He believed in me and gave me this job when most of the town waz still… suspicious of my heritage. That was several years ago; they all like me now. But inyway, he hasn't been quite the sehme since… the accident."

"The accident?" Julia asked, curious despite herself.

"Indeed. Nobody knows what happened, but he rode out into the desert, oh, about a year after I arrived, and came back three days later, completely run down. He now drinks, sleeps, and on very rehre occasions, eats, usually then only because I force him to. Poor man; Zeke clehms he waz abducted by aliens. But regardless, until you came along, I waz really the only one here, and so I thank you for being so helpful."

Julia shrugged wordlessly, with an uncomfortable expression, and gave the rope a hard tug to bring the engine into position over the car's open front.

When she wasn't at the garage, Julia was often seen at Zeke's diner, drinking water and eating small meals that seemed completely contrary to the diner's modus operandi of 'bigger and greasier,' while either carefully planning her small finances, or listening with surprising amounts of interest to the owner's various ramblings about interdimensional robot aliens he claimed to have seen in the desert a few years back. She was sure Kelly had spit in her food a few times, but never complained.

But the most interesting development was on Friday the tenth, exactly one week after her arrival. She had gotten off work earlier in the afternoon, but after dinner at the diner, felt somewhat restless. Instead of heading straight back to the Motel like usual, she decided to stroll around town a bit. The sun was setting over the mountains just like the first night after her arrival, setting the clouds ablaze in dramatic shades of orange and purple. A tumbleweed blew down the street, surprising Julia – she'd taken them as mere clichés virtually exclusive to the westerns, like Bonanza, that Kelly watched when she could wrest control of the TV away from Zeke. He preferred the more science-fiction oriented Lost In Space, which Julia found amusing for her own reasons.

In her wandering thoughts, Julia didn't notice that her feet had taken her of their own accord to Jose's garage, until she was already there. The route between the motel, the diner, and the garage had already become habitual; she wasn't sure how to feel about that.

But to her surprise, much like the night of her arrival, that one garage door was open again, with the lights inside all on. She'd seen Jose leave earlier, and Gavril had accompanied her to the diner, so who could be in there?

A distinct sense of déjà-vu washed over her when she turned the corner to find the same '62 Ford Galaxie from before resting there, with a thick pair of legs beneath that could only be Gavril's. "Working overtime, I see?" She asked, allowing herself a small grin as she leaned against the frame.

Gavril didn't jump quite as high this time, but still cursed to himself as he rolled out from beneath the car. "Julia, are you intent on killing me and taking over my position?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "That iz the only possible explanation I can find for your insistence on giving me such a fright." He cracked a grin to show he was joking, and Julia let hers grow wider.

"I don't need to go to such lengths; I simply plan to outperform you in the workplace." She responded with a chuckle, "And I don't need to give Kelly any more reason to hate me." Gavril had been only vaguely aware of the tension between the two, but shelved this new information for now, simply glad to see the mysterious woman beginning to loosen up as he had hoped.

He stood up and stretched, and noticed her gaze slide back to the car. "Right, this. It iz something of a personal project of mine; I bought it in poor condition for extremely cheap, and have been modifying and experimenting with it since. I plan to make a faster, more efficient, and far more durable wehicle than the motor corporations can even dream of today."

Julia raised an eyebrow. "You aim rather high, huh?"

Gavril shrugged. "I strive towards perfection; it iz in my family's nature." He stroked the Galaxie lovingly. "Of course, I am if anything the relaxed one among us; I alvays say that even if one misses the moon, you can land among the stars."

Julia shrugged uncomfortably. "I suppose I've always felt that winning is the important thing. My parents were always going on about competition and effort, but I disagreed. That's part of why I left them, quite a while ago."

Gavril eyed her curiously, quick to file this new information. Julia must have read his expression, though, because she quickly clammed up; turning up her collar, looking away and crossing her arms, and standing up from her leaning pose. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't trouble you with my issues." She began striding away into the night, but stopped briefly one more time. "But I really do wish you luck with that car; I think you can make it into something amazing."

And then she was gone.

1/1/2007
Unknown Location

Vert Wheeler stared around him as he walked, gawking at the windows peering into test chambers, cautiously eyeing the other people he passed, and eyeing with unabashed appreciation the various cars that passed down the center of the wide, ovular hallway.

The Silencers' base was filled with a plethora of strange sights, all awash in an endless pattern of white and purple, but there was one strange sight, possibly the strangest of them all, that he was making a point of not looking at, something made difficult when that strange sight was walking beside him the entire time. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, son." Jack Wheeler said, his voice pleasant and understanding. Vert barely registered them as he ducked beneath a floating X-88 robot going the other way. "It's okay, you can ask me anything."

Vert stopped by a window; inside the adjoining room, a Silencer car was driving up a ramp onto the wall, then onto the ceiling; some sort of magnetic force from its underbelly was keeping it up. Jack stopped as well, watching his son's reflection in the glass.

"I guess I have just one for now," he said, his voice hard. "Whose side are you guys all on?"

Jack blinked and sighed, glancing down at the white driving uniform he was still wearing. "Humanity's. We're a top-secret organization, run by the UN, specifically set up to explore everything related to the 'Accelerons.' We also do a fair bit of research into technological advancements that go into the project; you've seen the things our cars can do." He stepped forward and laid a hand on his son's shoulder, voice growing softer. "Son, you must understand why I couldn't tell you."

Vert sighed, leaning his head against the glass. "I guess so." Another thought occurred to him, and he turned back to his father. "But I thought you were in the military!"

Jack chuckled. "Oh, I still am. But they pull people from all over; people with the right qualifications, and the proper… discretion." His grin faded. "Believe me, it's been hard to keep this from you, and it was almost impossible to keep this from Laura before she… Well, you know. I feel that I've had to sacrifice a lot for this, but I wouldn't have done it if I didn't believe the cause was just."

Vert nodded. "So, wait a minute. Back when I was in the World Race, you had to go earlier that same day. Was that…?"

"Yes. We knew Peter Tezla was entering Highway 35, and that he would be trying to recruit drivers to help him reach the end. We were sent to spy on him, and accompany you all without your knowledge to find the wheel as well. We knew there was another saboteur-"

"Kurt?" Vert interjected.

"Yes, that's the one, but our hands were tied from interfering unless he started taking more serious action. After you got the wheel, we were recalled; we figured Gelorum would make a move soon, but we didn't realize how soon. I really am proud that you were able to resolve that. By the time I got back, it was all over – all I had to do was bring you back home."

Vert grinned despite himself. "But not after another run through the highway, huh?" His face fell again. "But then the drones got the wheel anyway."

Jack looked down as well, glancing around. "Yeah. Admittedly we… grew cocky. Gelorum must have taken damage during her helicopter crash; everything she did after that point was contrary to her pre-established behavior patterns, and aside from occasional research expeditions, we didn't really keep as close an eye on the city as we should have; before we knew what was happening, she'd abandoned earth entirely and moved all her drones there, slowly rebuilding it to suit them. Tezla was more proactive in that regard." Under his breath, he added. "One of the good doctor's few admirable traits, I suppose."

They resumed walking, passing by a gaggle of technicians all wearing anonymous masks equipped with scopes and lenses. "So, what's the deal with him anyway? He said you'd been stealing technology from him…"

Jack chuckled again. "To be perfectly honest, the thefts were mutual. He used to be part of our organization, before even I joined. I don't know the full details, but he defected, stealing as much of our current technology at the time as he could fit into one car, and left to found the SCRIM corporation and do his own research. After the World Race, while waiting for you to arrive, I helped him repair that X-88 of his-"

"Gig." Vert said, voice suddenly hard. "His name was Gig." Jack looked over at his son in surprise, but quietly nodded.

"I helped him repair Gig, but also added a sleeper program into his operating system. Gig would occasionally send us information, including some of Tezla's own inventions and research; that's how we were able to recreate the Wheel of Power hologram that he himself stole from the drones. We knew where the Acceledrome was, but mostly left him alone to his own devices."

"And then he hired us." Vert guessed.

"Yes, the… Teku, was it?"

"And the Metal Maniacs, yeah."

Jack nodded. " To be perfectly honest, I was terrified when we found out you were in the Acceledrome. Tezla hasn't had the best history with… employee care, I'll say. I don't suppose he told you about Dan Dresden, Banjee Castillo, and your friend Alec Wood?"

Vert sighed. "Kurt did, after he found out. And then there was Kadeem and Markie, too."

Another silver car passed by, forcing Vert to dodge out of the way. "Yes. Anyway, the point is that Tezla, while useful to leave alone, is rather obsessed with his work. I was okay with you being part of the Teku, but when he contacted you all…"

"You should quit, son." Vert mimicked in an overly deep and serious voice. There was a faint trace of bitterness to his grin, and Jack looked away.

"I was looking out for you. I wanted you to be safe. And to be perfectly honest, you weren't exactly being careful in the Water Realm."

Vert sighed again, something he seemed to be doing a lot today. "Yeah, I see that now. And I almost did quit, except then…"

"Then Gelorum made her move. We were all so used to the Wheel's portals now that we completely forgot about the Highway 35 portals; she left directly from the drone city; it was only a couple of miles to the Acceledrome, and we had no time to act. And… you know the rest."

Vert nodded. "So, I guess there's only two other questions, then. First off, when I was chasing after Gelorum, and the drones were blocking me from getting to the wheel… was that you?"

"Yes." Jack hesitated, then went on. "While the rest of my team went into the Cosmic Realm, I was sent to retrieve the Accelechargers from Gig. Then the drones attacked, and everything went pear-shaped, as a friend of mine would say."

Vert nodded. "And the other thing. Why did the wheel take me… here?" He gestured at their surroundings. "I was expecting to go through the Ultimate Race all over again."

"To be honest, we're not completely clear on that. We don't know what happened to you before you returned to the Acceledrome," He glanced over at Vert's suit, white and blue and covered in Acceleron symbols, "though we have some guesses. However you came back may have bypassed the entrance to the Ultimate race, and then on top of that, one of our agents had gone into the drone city to take the wheel, after we realized the Highway 35 portals were still active after all, and they returned to our base through the drones' hologram; that could have created a feedback loop of sorts."

They turned a corner into a smaller, rectangular hallway, which was lined with purple doors. Jack stopped in front of one, but before he opened it, he stopped Vert and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I really am proud of you, you know. Everything. It's been hard to stay back and watch you get into danger, but it's also been hard to act distant, like I knew little to nothing about what you were doing. Like you weren't out there, saving the world same as me, even if you had to do it while working for Tezla. I raced my oblivious son."

Vert tilted his head sideways, watching his father. "But now I'm here, and I know."

"And now you know." Vert's father broke out into a big smile, before suddenly turning serious again. "But enough about the past. In the present, it is…" He checked his suit's watch, "Way too early in the morning; we both need our sleep, then tomorrow morning, we'll talk about the future. This is a temporary room until the higher-ups figure out what to do with you." With that, he left.

Vert barely registered the interior of the room, already half-asleep by the time his head hit the purple pillow. It had been a long day, exhausting emotionally and physically, and he was all too glad to let the darkness rise up and take him into oblivion.

So, this chapter turned out rather exposition-y, but that's okay. Reintroducing plot threads as well as adding some new ones, I'm fairly happy with this, though it may still need some fixing up in spots. Be sure to drop a review to let me know what you think; even enraged flames are acceptable!

Next Time: The Teku and Metal Maniacs go salvaging, Kadeem works his way up in the Drone world, Esmerelda and Skeet begin their recruitment drive, some more newcomers arrive at Handler's Corners, and Vert meets more members of the Silencers.