Summary: McQueen goes to the arcade before his duel.
A/N: The end of chapter 8 implies that McQueen and Chick met in an alleyway. I later retconned this information, but forgot to take that out of the chapter 8 document before posting it here. I did try to update that chapter, but in the event that it doesn't go through I'm providing this note for context.
The race was set to happen that night. This meant that the rest of the day, McQueen was free to do as he wished.
Well, to be frank, Motoropolis wasn't anything special. The Piston Cup circuit often raced at tracks around major metropolitan networks, so Mcqueen had grown used to what cities generally had to offer. Today though, he was so antsy to beat Chick that he just couldn't sit still.
Motoropolis was known for its impoverished community (and resulting high crime rates). Even Mcqueen knew that a big celebrity like him would be a target in a place like this….at least from a general perspective. So he took precaution by avoiding the popular tourist attractions.
He instead went to the arcades.
The evening sun shone between two buildings, sending a glare McQueen's way as he entered the gaming establishment.
He didn't notice the orange mustang that followed him in.
The arcade cabinets were obnoxiously loud. Stinger much preferred the peaceful quiet of night. Where he could be a shadow among shadows, a monster in the dark.
As McQueen sat in that stupid little machine, spending what must've amounted to a few hundred dollars on cheap plastic entertainment, Stinger imagined himself in the thick of the jungle.
He was the lion…. Nay! He was the hunter! Hunting lions! For flesh, blood, and money! Lots and lots of comfortable cash.
The mustang thought then about his home…. his wife and kids… The danger they were in, if he didn't meet his quota.
His tires itched for a trigger he didn't have. He was the hunter. He needed to fight. He wasn't sure how much longer he could wait around.
Finally, the game was over, and it looked like McQueen was leaving….only to plant himself in another DAMN cabinet.
Screw this! Stinger threw a tire in the air and left. He had better things to do than spy needlessly on prey he couldn't yet hunt.
As the mustang left, he passed a rusty tow truck that was entering the facility. Stinger regarded the truck with little thought, "just another commoner lowlife… Beer drinking redneck ass…" He knew was better than that. Stinger worked hard to earn his keep.
If only his rich mustachioed client took things as seriously as he did….
McQueen was wrested away from his game by a familiar face.
"Mater?!" Mcqueen snapped, "What are you doing here?"
"Dad-gummit!" Mater's teeth grit, "I should be askin' you that! I've been lookin' everywhere for you,"
"Hey," McQueen chuckled softly, "Let's keep it d-down…. We don't want to cause a scene..."
Mater shoved his hook at McQueen's face, "I don't care 'bout that," he stated, "I'm here to bring you home, now!"
Some of the arcade-goers stared with dismissive interest, before returning to their games.
"Geez, buddy… What's gotten into you?" McQueen backed into his arcade seat.
"It's been a long day..."
McQueen saw his screen flash as his character died. So much for that round. Time for another.
The racer snarled, "Just let me have my fun! I'll go home with you after the race!"
Mater shook his head, "I don't think so, pal….. This is for yer own good,"
His hook lowered to Mcqueen's rear axel, tugging hard.
"Noo!" McQueen yelped. He felt a wave of hot embarrassment wash over him as he was literally dragged outside.
Someone snapped a blurry picture, instantly sharing it on the Blue Thunderbird social media app. It got 27 likes in about three minutes, and was the talk of the town for the evening.
Later, someone would make a blogpost claiming that one car was actually the racing legend, Lightning McQueen…..only to promptly receive criticism on such a bold claim.
And then everyone forgot, as they did. The system reset. The game was done. Such is the fleeting nature of internet fame. New game. New game. Insert four quarters to play.
A dollar to play. To wash the pain away.
Mater couldn't have known that it was too late to go back. McQueen had already made a deal with Chick... and now they were about to drive right into his trap. Stinger's appearance at the arcade wasn't just for show.
