not a racer! just a trainer!

[cruzzramirez]

[cruzzramirez]

[pixarsource]

Cruz Ramirez voiced by Cristela Alonzo CARS 3 (2017), directed by Brian Fee

[jeongguksjeon]

I'll tell ya what else he's got. He's got the attitude I want on and off the ice. So somebody here better tell me why I shouldn't be giving him a hell of a look!

MIRACLE (2004) dir. Gavin O'Connor for @jofer

[of-fear-and-love]

Training montage from Rocky (1976)

[effinbirds]

[pedro-reed]

Pixar Dynamics → Lightning & Cruz (Cars 3)

[hintzy]

tragedy of the athlete

1. post by @tamaupogi

2. tags on a post by @coppermouth

3. the wounded achilles, filippo albacini

4. the old catcher considers the failing of his knees, devin kelly

5. temporary job, minnie bruce pratt

6. this post

7. this post

[shecanball]

CHERYL MILLER during her time as head coach of the Phoenix Mercury (1997-2000)

[pixarsource]

The Lore of Pixar → Radiator Springs

[gaynfl-moved]

[backstepping]

nhl official stephen hiff’s family and friends all dressed up to celebrate his league debut and first call

[cruzzramirez]

[cruzzramirez]

Rookie Of The Year || Self-Para

Set: October 5th The finish line approaches.

Cruz stood on the now all too familiar starting line, bouncing on her toes. 

To her left was Samuel Hooper. To her right was Ryan Busch. 

Around them was a loud crowd of onlookers. 

Her heart was beating too fast already and she shook her arms, like that would help loosen her nerves enough to brush off of her like a dusting of snow. 

“Ladies and gentleman!” the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “We are pleased to welcome Ryan Busch–” the crowd cheered. “–Samuel Hooper–” the crowd cheered significantly louder. She did, too, clapping and wooping. It was like a reflex to the name at this point. “–and Cruuuuuuuuuuuz Ramireeeeeeez.” 

The crowd went ballistic. 

It made her blink, peering over at the stands. People were standing and clapping, waving signs over their heads with her name on them. She could hardly believe it. 

“Everyone loves an underdog,” McQueen said in the earpiece, as if he had tuned into her brain waves somehow. “Don’t worry about them. Focus on you right now.”

She snorted, looking back at the track, and put on her best American accent in imitation of his. “Speed. I am speed.”

She heard him laugh.

After a few more announcements, it was time to get going. 

Cruz watched the lights. 

Red. 

Yellow. 

Green. 

Go.

Busch shot off the line. Meanwhile, she and Hooper kept a steady pace to start. 

It took her about five laps to come to a conclusion, as she watched Busch have to take a break while the three of them were all in various places along the monkey bars. He hung there, having to kick his legs to release some of the tension on his hands. 

“They’re people,” she said aloud.

“What?” McQueen asked. 

“They’re people,” she repeated. “Just…people. I can run with them.”

“Yeah. Almost like you’ve been doing that for the past half hour,” he said, sounding a little confused. But to Cruz, this was a breakthrough. Hooper and Busch were no longer the Gods she had built them up to be in her head. Well, Samuel Hooper was still amazing in every way to her, and had only further proven this by getting to see it up close with her own two eyeballs, but she was right there with them, keeping time. 

Maybe…Maybe…

At the break after the 25th lap, Cruz followed them down to the tents. She jogged in the direction of hers, and turned to find a camera crew following along beside her. She blinked and smiled, and picked her pace up to get away from the massive lens, using a group of workers as a shield as she got on the other side of them, away from the camera. 

She was welcomed by her friends, and listened intently to McQueen’s feedback. Soon enough the break was over and she headed over to the reentry lane. 

“Tired?” someone asked her and she turned to see– 

“Mr. Dusty?” she squinted. Then grinned, “Not at all, sir!”

The co-founder of Rust-eze smiled back at her. “Good. Listen, I know you don’t got much time. Just wanted the chance to tell you– you can do this, Cruz! We’re all rootin’ for you over in the Rust-eze tent!” 

She blinked, but didn’t have any time to reply as the timer counted down the last few seconds, the roar of the crowd enveloping the arena. Cruz could only smile and nod, and turn back to the track to start the second half of this race. 

Wow. The Rust-eze guys thought she could win this? Who had been at this for longer than she had been alive? The ones that had given McQueen his chance? 

She smiled to herself. 

Around the course, she heard the same sentiment being shouted where groups of people stood by the track. People who hadn’t gotten tickets for the stadium, but who had wanted to come out to see the race all the same. 

“You can do it Cruz!”

“Let’s go Cruz!” 

“Yeah, Cruz! Woo!” 

She waved to them as she went passed, and they waved back. The sounds of their clapping following her around and around the track as she went. 

All of these people seemed to believe in her. 

“She’s picking up her pace,” Hooper said, watching Cruz disappear into the tree covered portion of the track. 

“It appears so,” his coach replied. “She doesn’t seem to be cracking.”

Samuel grinned, running to get ahead of her. 

Cruz glanced sideways as Hooper passed by and fought to keep her pace instead of speeding up to keep her lead. There was still a long ways to go, no need to spend it all right here. Hooper continued on his quick sprint and she watched, admiring his form– his running form! 

And then blinked when she saw him take a sharp turn through the trees. He wasn’t going off track, because that would be against the rules, but he was going down a path she hadn’t had the guts to take. It was a quicker route, but it was in total darkness. The only ones she’d seen go in there had been the racers with Magick to help them see through it, like Parapara. As far as she was aware, all three racers on the track today just had super speed on their belt. 

Maybe Hooper knew something she didn’t. What if it paid off, going that way? What if it shaved off minutes from his run? What if he pulled out so far ahead after taking that cut every time? 

Cruz started to head that way, too.

“What are you doing?” McQueen’s voice cut through her thoughts. 

“Taking the short cut.”

“Last time I checked, you’re not Jae.”

“But if he gets through, there’s no telling how much time he’ll shave off.”

“We don’t know that he can get through it that smoothly. It’s a trick.”

Cruz was coming up on the fork in the road, eyes locked on the dark path Hooper had disappeared into. 

In the end, she trusted McQueen and kept on the main path. 

She came up on Busch as he was going over the bridge and Boogie pit. Cruz hesitated, but stepped onto the narrowed track, figuring he was far enough away from her for it not to be a problem. 

He looked over his shoulder at her, only to quickly turn back to facing what was in front of him. Cruz couldn’t help but to watch as he balanced with ease despite his willowly frame. His long legs kept close together, one foot in front of the other, arms out stretched beside him. A strong breeze came through then, and her eyes widened as she saw something come from the brush to smack into Busch.

It wasn’t anything heavy– just one of the leaflets from the stadium, but it startled him enough to cause him to tip to one side. 

Cruz gasped, scared of the scene she thought she was about to witness, having to watch Busch go down into the pit of goo. 

Only instead of doing that, Busch blurred in place, magic being put to use. One moment he was at an angle, the next he was clinging to the track by his hands. He’d managed to catch himself, reminding her of how Mr. Parapara had been yesterday. Only instead of needing her help, Busch started to swing his legs until his momentum was enough to get him back up on the track. A few graceful movements had him back on his feet, as if nothing had happened. 

Cruz let out a breath and then started to clap. “Wow! That was amazing!” 

The older racer was quick to forge ahead, stepping off onto the more solid ground. Only instead of taking off he stopped and turned to look at her. Cruz grinned at him, giving him two thumbs up above her head. See? She knew that guy still had something left in him! 

Though it didn’t occur to her that she was supposed to be beating him until a few seconds later, and she had to focus back on what she was doing. 

Ryan Busch stared at the girl as she made her way carefully across the thin pathway. 

“Busch! Get moving!” Ward called in his ear. 

He grunted and turned, not even noticing one corner of his mouth had picked up until it was too late. 

There were only five more laps to go and the three racers had all fallen into two meters of one another. 

It didn’t seem like anyone was going to let up– though Cruz knew Hooper’d had to put in double time after getting a little lost in that so-called shortcut. He was breathing heavier than either herself or Busch. He was tired. 

She was, too, but she knew she still had enough to get her across the line. She didn’t know that he did. 

So, her only worry now was getting out in front of Busch. 

It was just a matter of timing for when. Too early and it would be giving him time to build up a last burst, or to try doing what he had done to Hooper and attempt to trip her without her being able to see it. Too late and…well, it would be too late. 

Five laps turned into four. Three.

Final two.

“Last lap,” McQueen told her as she crossed the line. Busch was a meter ahead of her 

Hooper had fallen behind. 

Last lap. Last time she would run this track probably. Last time she went up and over the massive wall. Last time she passed the guy in his folding chair. Last time she’d jump over the tree root on the left of the track. 

She kept on Busch’s ass the whole time, not letting up. She made sure he knew she was there, on his heels. 

The Boogie pit was going to have to be where she overtook him. If he was ahead of her she’d have to wait, have to keep distance between them so he didn’t try anything dirty. 

If she was in front of him, enough to be out of reach, she could do this. 

Cruz put her head down and drew on her magic to pick up her speed, taking the inside on a curve to overtake the lead. 

“That’s it,” McQueen encouraged. “Thread the needle, kid, you got him.” 

She smiled and didn’t let up. 

She didn’t feel like she needed to. Even on the narrowed part of the track, where only one of her feet would fit at a time, she kept the gas on her magic. She had walked it so many times before that she didn’t have any doubt this last time around. She wasn’t worried about misstepping because she just knew she wouldn’t. She had done it before, she would do it again. 

And she did. She stepped back onto the wider track and dashed off. 

At the hill she kept her faster pace, excitement brimming as she heard the sounds of the stadium in the distance. She didn’t want it to end, either, but was ready to cross that finish line. 

At the river bank, she took her reliable path, feet quick and mind focused on anticipating the moving platforms. 

She just needed to keep it together now. Keep her mind from wandering to all the things that were trying to press into the spotlight. All the variables, all the people watching her, all the things that were relying on this race, on the media, on what her life was going to look like after this– she just needed to run. 

She was good at running. 

Cruz came around the bend to the last straight and didn’t have to worry about any stray intrusive thought tripping her up– the crowd was too loud for her to even hear her own heartbeat. The noise had her teeth buzzing as she clenched them together. Her arms pumped, feet hitting the ground as her legs kept in time, and then– 

Then it was over in a matter of a few seconds. 

Cruz came to a stop a few meters from the finish line, leaning to put her hands on her knees and suck in breath after breath. She turned her head to watch as Ryan Busch crossed the line, too. His lips were parted as he tried to get air into his lungs by the mouthful, too, but he closed them briefly to smile at her. 

There was a light in his eyes– she almost wanted to call it impressed. 

She felt a hand on her back and stood up straight to find her friends surrounding her.

“We did it!” Cruz said. “We did it!” 

And then so many other people were there, too. Suddenly she was lost in a crowd, only to be hoisted up above them. Tanner and Jae had her sitting on their shoulders as people cheered and cheered and cheered. People reached to touch her hand, to congratulate her. She had no idea what to do, could only say, “Thank you!” over and over again to the strangers that were so happy for her. 

Until she turned to see her mother among them.

Cruz blinked at the woman. She was smiling. No scolds coming from her mouth, no disappointment in her expression. Just tears in her eyes. Cruz gripped onto her hand, smiling back. Tanner and Jae turned, and so Cruz had to, too. She tried to look back for her mum, tried to cling to her hand, but everything was moving and there were so many people. Their hands slipped from one another’s and Cruz lost her in the crowd as she was carried away. 

But that was okay, because her mum was there. She had looked proud. 

That was more than Cruz could have asked for– maybe everyone was going to know her as Lightning McQueen’s daughter from this day forward, but she had been Bessie Ramirez’s for a lot longer than that. 

Eventually they set her down and the crowd dissipated, letting Cruz get back to the tent where McQueen had an enveloping hug waiting for her.

She was putting on her hoodie as she left the locker room. As soon as she pulled her head through, Samuel Hooper was standing there, smiling at her. 

“Well done, Ramirez,” he said to her. “That was a great race. I…enjoyed it.”

Cruz stared at him, unable to say anything for a long moment, until her brain kicked back on. “So did I.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, you did.” 

Hooper held out his hand to her and she blinked at it before carefully reaching out to take it. He shook it.

“Congratulations on your success. We’ll race again sometime,” he said. 

It wasn’t a question. 

Cruz smiled up at him. He took his hand back from her and started to turn away. 

But…ah, you could never take the fan out of the girl.

“Uh! Mr. Hooper!” she called, stepping after him. He turned. Cruz turned, reaching into her bag to get out a sharpie and searched around until she tore off a piece of paper from her check-in binder. It wasn’t like she needed whatever it was anymore. She held them up to him, “Can I have your autograph?” 

Samuel blinked and then snorted, “Only if I can have yours, too. Fairs fair.”

“Ms. Turbowitz,” Busch said, nodding to the familiar woman among the crowd of reporters. He hated the post-race interviews– but it was all apart of the gig. 

“Mr. Busch, what did you think of the display after the race?” the woman asked. 

Ryan frowned at the question, knowing the answer he was supposed to give. He was supposed to say he thought it was childish and unprofessional. He was supposed to take a page out of his coach’s book and put the kid down for daring to have made such a big deal out of winning. 

Instead he said, “Ramirez looked like the happiest person in the world. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that after a race. I wish I could be her right now.”

Cruz Ramirez's story was the same story that had been told many times. A champion won. Someone else had lost. 

And yet the sweet taste of victory had not faded, no matter how many times it had passed the lips and touched the tongues of those that had earned it. Nor would it, for all of those that were waiting to get a taste.

..... 

MARSHALL GREEN was let go of his contract with Hostile Takeover Bank and was signed to Dinacco, after they had initially asked to sign Cruz Ramirez who had declined and told them where they could find someone they would be very happy with.

BRITTANY ROVER joined the Nitroade team. It was a good fit. She made her debut at the Miami 500 and went on to be a favorite among the team and the sport alike. 

THE PRIDE UNIVERSITY MAGICK GRAND PRIX TEAM went back to school to train for their own season. More eyes were on the program than ever before. A new coach was hired. 

RYAN BUSCH improved his times throughout the season. Everyone says it looks like he is enjoying himself a lot more these days. 

SAMUEL HOOPER continued to perform well, even going on to win the Piston Cup for his team that year, as well as a number of other competitions. 

LIGHTNING MCQUEEN continues to live in Swynlake, helping the PrideU team where he can. He also can be seen at every race his daughter participates in, alongside BESSIE and EMILY RAMIREZ, who are the loudest fans in the stands. 

and CRUZ RAMIREZ officially joined the Rust-eze team. Knowing she still needed experience, agreed to race in the minor leagues for a few years until she was ready to go to the majors. She still lives in Swynlake when she isn’t on the road, citing it to be where her friends and family live. In a word, home. 

[cruzzramirez]

Luck Of The Irish || Crushu + The Gang

Set: October 5th Before the tie break race, Cruz is asked a question she must consult with the team about. @dragon-not-a-lizard

CRUZ:Excitement had settled into her bones alongside the pure terror that had been residing there ever since she’d walked (or ran) out of the meeting with Ward. But, strangely, it wasn’t as loud today. Maybe it was because it was only a race of 50 laps. Maybe it was because she had realized that she was just lucky to be there. Maybe it was because she knew she wasn’t walking into this one alone. 

She made her way to the track early that morning, as she had been instructed by the committee in order to have a meeting before the race began about how everything was going to proceed. It was chilly outside, the clouds drawn over. They weren’t thick and brooding, though, so hopefully today would prove to keep dry. 

Cruz showed her badge to the now familiar woman at the table to check in, only to receive a concerned look from the woman. 

“Your team's already here,” she said in a hushed voice. 

“They are?” 

She nodded, then gestured behind Cruz where– yup, there they were! Only they didn’t really look happy. Cruz knew it was pretty early, but that didn’t explain the angry or sad faces that resided on the faces of her friends. And McQueen wasn’t among them, either. 

They were being spoken to by two men in business suits. 

Cruz looked back at the woman who nodded to her again, and she quickly crossed the distance to get to them. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“Ms. Ramirez!” one of the men greeted her. “We have a marvelous opportunity for you.”

“Oh?” Cruz said, eyeing her group over the guy’s shoulder. 

“While your coach is the only one allowed to speak to you throughout the race, your team is also there to serve you. Several of us from the Piston Cup committee thought you’d appreciate having professionals in your camp today,” the other man said. “That way you can have people who really know what they’re doing with you to give you the best advantage.”

She frowned. Where the heck was this kindness the day before yesterday, huh? But then she knew the answer to that– they wouldn’t have extended the help to someone with no prospect. To someone who wasn’t getting the sport some mainstream recognition. 

“My team’s been doing a great job,” she replied. 

“For goodness sake, Ms. Ramirez,” the man said, annoyed now. “This is a professional race, not some university tournament. We can’t have your group of children out there making a mockery of themselves. It’s not a good look.”

Cruz was taken aback and glanced over at her friends again. “Did you tell them that before talking to me?”

“We’ll get them good seats,” the other man insisted. “Food passes, merchandise! They won’t have to be put to work, they can simply enjoy themselves!” 

She scoffed, shouldering past them to get to the group. “Is…I mean, is that what you guys want? To just watch the race?”

MUSHU: There was going to be a tie breaking race. Mushu was sure that Cruz could win this one, so long as they all worked together to help her through it. At least, that was what he figured would happen. At least until the assholes in the fancy suits started showing up. And Mushu was familiar with those types. There had been plenty of them surrounding his father pretty regularly. People who thought they were better than others, who thought money and pretentiousness was all that counted.

It didn’t surprise him that the suits showed up now that Cruz was in the spotlight for this tie breaker. 

It still sucked to have them decide that Mushu and the rest of the crew were suddenly no good for Cruz. Even though they’d helped her through the first big race. It was insane. They were well on their way to trying to kick them all out before Cruz turned up. 

The fact that this guy was saying they were embarrassing kids was frustrating. His nose itched, and if his irritation grew he would no doubt end up with smoke coming out of his nostrils. “I don’t care about food passes and merch! I don’t know about the others, but I came here to help support you Cruz!” Mushu glared at the fancy suited man.

The others with the crew were all nodding and agreeing to the same. “Who even knows if their team is actually good anyway?”

CRUZ:“Yeah!” Joshua spoke his agreement with Mushu firmly, nodding toward him. “They could saddle you with a bunch of lazy bones who just look official.” 

Cruz smiled at this defiance, because it was her gut reaction to the offer, too. She loved her crew, they were her friends and they had done a great job, considering every single one of them had absolutely no experience being a part of this world. The only guiding light they had was McQueen and as a racer himself, there was only so much he could shed on them as far as the behind the scenes stuff went. 

Because of all the stress and limelight that had been cast upon them now, she did worry that the group would agree that they would rather relax today, veg out in the stands and enjoy being a part of the crowd rather than helping her. They had all been so nice to have in the tent, and today was going to be harder, in her opinion, than the last one. Sure it was a lot shorter and there were way less racers on the track but that’s also what made it more difficult. Plus, she was still tired from the race not two days ago. 

But, at the same time, she couldn’t do anything for them to compensate for everything they had already done. For the time they had sacrificed to be there for her. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, stepping closer to the group. “I mean, you’ve already had to stay here two days longer than originally planned. I can’t pay you for all your hard work. I won’t blame anyone if you just want to relax.” 

MUSHU: “Right! They could have it rigged or something. You’re better off with people you can trust!” Mushu pointed out. Not that it was guaranteed that they would do everything perfectly. But they at least for sure had Cruz’s back. He seriously doubted that some other team would bend over backwards to try to help her succeed. For them it could just be a paycheck thing. 

And okay, it was a little longer than planned, but he didn’t mind it. He had uni stuff probably, but he didn’t exactly love being a business major. And anyway, his father was still funding him pretty well. But he was probably the exception on the expenses side of things. 

“Eh, what’s another two days? I took the economical route over here anyway so I’m good to go.” And he didn’t like that those suits had tried to sort of bribe them with food and whimsy to keep them from helping her out. “Let us stick with you. We all want to help you win this race.” 

And Mushu was sure that Cruz could do it either way, but he was more confident that they would give her the emotional boost that some randoms never could. “Will you let us stay?”

CRUZ:She hadn’t even thought of that. That these people were trying to sabotage her in an effort to keep the image that you had to go a certain route in order to be a racer. The conventional way. The one where you had to have a lot of money to get anywhere significant in the sport. As the one guy had said, they were looking to maintain their ‘image.’ Which she could understand wanting, but they hadn’t done anything that would warrant them trying to give her a whole group of strangers and kicking everyone from being on the ground with her. 

And she knew that because no one had made the headlines or been clipped on TikTok or whatever doing anything embarrassing– only nice, funny things that had gotten a lot of views because they were uni kids and how strange it was to see a whole group of them, along with a pretty newly retired racer on the headset as a coach. They hadn’t done anything wrong. They just hadn’t done it the way it had been done– but when had this sport been anything but a game of improv and innovation? 

As soon as Mushu doubled down and said that he wanted to stay, everyone else did, too. All of them were in agreement, they would rather stay together and be her crew than take the cushy offering. 

It made her breathe in deeply, the feeling of their support making her wonder if she might just drift off with the wings it had given her. 

“I would never replace you guys, we’re a team.” And man did that feel good to say. It was almost unbelievable to once again think about this little crew, who had come all the way out here for her. For one another, really, since she had no doubt in her mind that had it been anyone of them standing where she was, they all would have rallied for that person, too. No hesitation. No doubt about it. “No one’s going to change that.” 

She put out her hand, palm toward the ground. Everyone came forward, slapping their hands on top. 

MUSHU: Mushu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He had figured Cruz would still want them around, but there was never knowing entirely until it was spoken aloud. Once she spoke it all felt right again. And… like Cruz said… they were a team! Mushu had been part of different teams before. Basketball, e-basketball and otherwise. They’d all been really fun to be on. 

But this one felt more special. Maybe because they were scrappy. They were underdogs. They didn’t have all the things that other teams might have. But they had each other. And they had a passion to see Cruz succeed in the race to come. 

A smile lit up Mushu’s face as he stepped forward with everyone else, slapping his hand on top of the others. “Alright! Go team!” He barely resisted adding a high school musical joke into the mix. But it felt good to be a part of something genuine like this. “Cruz, let’s show them all that this team means serious business.” 

CRUZ:Cruz looked up to meet Mushu’s eye as he said her name and smiled before her expression became a bit more determined. She gave a firm nod of agreement and confirmation– she could do that. 

“Team Cruz on three!” Jae shouted. “One! Two! Three–!”

“Team Cruz!” everyone echoed, throwing their hands up and breaking from the huddle. 

“Alright, let’s go get checked in,” Cruz said, waving everyone toward the table. Before she went to join them, she turned to look at the two men who had thrown a wrench into the machine where they had no business in having done so. She walked back over to them, now fueled with the fire of her friends’ belief in her and in themselves, with their desire to be there and give it their all despite having no experience. 

They turned to her from where they were grumbling to one another in conversation, their faces grim with disappointment. 

“Don’t ever talk to my team again,” she told them with a severe tone that the bubbly Cruz Ramirez had hardly taken on before. But this was too important. She didn’t want them thinking they could do stuff like insult kids who were involved in the sport, who were the future of it, and get away with it just because of where they stood in it. 

The men’s faces opened with surprise, no doubt having never been addressed in such a matter. 

Cruz walked away, joining the group at the check in table to make sure all the paperwork was in order– it was, considering nothing had changed in the last 48 hours since they’d last been there. 

She bumped elbows with Mushu as they all wandered inside, heading down toward the track and their tent, to get his attention. “Thanks. For…everything. I’m glad you found us this year, and that you’re here.” 

MUSHU: Their hands all went up in the air, Mushu yelling “Team Cruz!” right along with the rest of them. He felt energized. He felt even more empowered. He felt like it would be a serious rush if he could end up at a Grand Prix like this again someday in the future. Cruz made him want to learn a lot more about the sport. 

But at this moment, he was full speed ahead on the support train. He hurried to check in as part of the team, stepping away once he had done it so that the others could. He was already getting a little jittery in anticipation of this race. Though he was so sure that Cruz could win this. That she would win this. 

Mushu had been debating on what they could do to help Cruz celebrate after they won when she bumped elbows with him. He blinked, turning to face her and pushing his wild ideas aside for the time being. “You’re welcome. Honestly I should thank you. This stuff… it’s been a really cool learning experience. And I’ve had the chance to see a growing legend in the works I think.” 

It was cool, and it felt like being a part of something special. “I’d like to actually claim to be one of your first real big fans when you hit the big time with this win and stuff.”

CRUZ:Cruz couldn’t help but to laugh lightly at the compliment. To her, it seemed like such an overstatement. Her? A growing legend? Gosh, she had put competing at any level of the sport far from her mind years ago, when she had been a kid, all alone at her first try out, and looked around to see just how out of her league she had been in ever thinking she could be a racer like McQueen. All that time she had thought she had wanted to be just like him, that if she could just be a racer, too, then he would finally pay attention to her. 

It had never stained the sport for her, though. And this was why– getting to meet new people, to bond with them over something that captured a feeling that she felt could only be found in the innocence of childhood. When you were on the playground, uncaring of anything else other than getting to have fun with someone else who wanted to do the same. That was all that mattered. Building a community was just one of the benefits of entering the world. 

To hear Mushu say that he was getting something out of being there made her heart feel full and warm. That was all she had ever wanted in starting her little summer camp program back in the day, and then in basically strong arming the university into making an official team. Even if she had spread the word to one person, it was enough. Thankfully it had grown from there, and would only continue.  

“Stooooop,” she said with a shake of her head. “We’ll see what happens after today. Like I always tell you guys, one race at a time.” She paused, then smiled at him. “But thank you. It means a lot.”

MUSHU: Mushu couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah yeah yeah. I can’t see the future or anything but I am feeling pretty positive about your chances here.” And admittedly now that the field of people was a lot smaller it was even more likely anyway. And sure, there was still a chance that she could lose, but he chose to manifest only good things. Or he was pretty sure that was what all the tiktokers liked to say. Manifest this and that. 

“But look, even if you don’t… it’s still been great being a part of your team,” Mushu added. Because it was true. He hadn’t felt this good about something he’d done in a while. He’d been messing up nonstop since he got to Swynlake. But this was good. And he felt the bond of a team and the kind of support he wished he could have a lot more of.

Mushu put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve already really kicked ass here. It’s been awesome to watch. So yeah… good luck for this next part. But I really do think you’ll do it. I’ve got a good feeling.”

CRUZ:She didn’t know that she agreed with him. Both of the racers she was going up against were just so good and she…well, she didn’t know that she was going to be able to survive under the pressure. That’s what it came down to a lot of the time, the mental fortitude to keep going, to push through to the finish line without letting off the gas. Cruz didn’t know that she had that capability. Even the doubt that was coursing through her at the very thought of being able to do so was evidence enough. 

But, at the same time, she had never had someone else believe in her like the way Mushu seemed to. Like the rest of the team did, too. It was really hard to wrap her head around since all her life she had either been ignored by her father or told by her mother to tone her dreams down, try for something closer to the ground that she could actually reach. 

Now here she was, having tied with two professional athletes who had been at this for a few years. 

“Yeah. I guess I have, huh?” she said with a little smile, as if she was only just realizing what a feat it was. “Well, I’ll be honest. I couldn’t have done it without you guys. If you all hadn’t been here to help me and to say stuff like that to beat out the voice in my head– I would’ve been out on the first five laps. So, thank you.” 

She reached up to place her hand over the one he had put on her shoulder, giving it a pat. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Cruz said. “And I’m glad I don’t have to.” 

[cruzzramirez]

(Halftime Interlude) || Self-Para

Set: October 3rd Thanks for joining us on our coverage of the Cruz Ramirez story. During our short break we're going to give you a look into the goings on in the story with some people surrounding the main plot line you may have seen before. I've been Vicky, your author. We here at SwynlakeRP hope you're having a good day. Stick around, we'll be getting back to the main event very soon!

The suite of the hotel was large and plush. An ornate rug sat over hardwood where the furniture of the living room area was all oriented. 

Theodore Vernon sat in an armchair that was almost too small to fit his massive frame. He was just short of 6’5’’ and held a very broad stature. Everything about him was a bit pudgy– his cheeks, his neck, his fingers, his gut. But he was healthy, sort of had to be to get along well as an athlete, so he didn’t much mind the fat on his frame. It was just how his body looked. And, besides, he liked food too much to cut joy out of his life for the sake of getting on some top 10 list or whatnot. His hair was a dark shade of brown and was trimmed short, always in a neat side part that he had been sporting since Secondary school. He had brown eyes, light brown skin, and a short snub nose, with the recent addition of a mustache across his upper lip. His mother had told him it made him look mature. Everyone else said something along the lines of pornstache. He was still lukewarm on it. 

He was freshly full off a massive dinner and was nursing a glass of beer while he listened to Samuel Hooper’s team carry on about the race. 

He had spent quite a bit of time around the group since Sam had become top priority of Triple Dent’s team after Kargas had announced his retirement, and could never understand them when they really got going. Australians had a bunch of odd phrases that would draw a blank look to Ted’s face whenever Sam dropped them. Ted had been born in Bath, Somerset, a world away from the rural farm that Sam had grown up in, where the bloke who took people’s X-Ray’s at the hospital was also the place’s gardener. 

Yet, somehow, they got on. 

Probably because Sam was actually a decent fellow, as opposed to a lot of the types that came into the sport, and kept Ted sane. 

Most of the time anyway. 

Sam was sprawled out on the ground in the middle of the massive rug, having moved the coffee table so that he could stretch himself out on his back, hands laced together and at the back of his head. His eyes were shut, but he was awake, listening to his team, too, as they gave their orders to rest tomorrow. Then they started going on about the PR, what angle they’d need to take depending on the outcome of the tie-break. 

Eventually they filed out, leaving Sam and Ted alone. 

He sipped at the beer, running the back of his hand over his lips to get what had clung to his mustache. “Good show. How’d you manage to get yourself mixed up in all this?” 

Sam sighed loudly, releasing one hand in order to sling his arm over his eyes. He shook his head, “I’ve no idea.”

Ted grunted. “Wouldn’t have been happy with third?”

“Couldn’t help it. Busch was giving me a hard time.”

“He’s always given you a hard time.” 

A few minutes of silence passed them by before Ted spoke again.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like that. Not since before your injury.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you were enjoying it,” Ted said. “Don’t think I can remember you cracking a joke on a track since you came back.”

Sam moved his arm from his face, turning to blink over his friend who shrugged at him. He looked back up at the ceiling and considered that statement and found…that it was true. After he had been out on injury, getting back into everything had been hard. Especially since he had stopped being the Rookie and was now the guy his team was putting as their front runner, despite having several other good ones on the line up. Hell, they’d all made it into the top 30 tonight! 

There was a lot of pressure about being the new face of the team. Suddenly he was being asked to film for things, like interviews with YouTube channels, radio shows, podcasts. He was promoting Triple Dent at events, he was meeting with people who were far more important than the nobody he was. Or used to be, anyway. 

He knew he wasn’t a celebrity with any sort of status among the usual folk, but Magick Grand Prix fans were loyal and vast. When they knew his name, they knew him. Most of the time, it was a nice feeling. Most of the time, they were a fan. 

Other times…not so much. 

Being a professional athlete had started to stop being about the actual game he was competing in and started being about…evrything else. The races were something to look forward to, but they had more than just the game involved with them these days. 

Today had felt like it did when he’d been younger, back when he hadn’t known anything about the Magick Grand Prix, but had been put on the team by his phys ed teacher for the same of getting him out of trouble for an afternoon. 

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling a little. “It was that kid, actually. She just– looked like she was actually having fun out there. Even with the miserable weather and everyone spitting at her.” 

“Think she’ll show up?”

“I think she’ll be the one to watch.” 

Ted grunted his agreement. 

--

“She’s a nobody!” Ward yelled, slamming a hand flat onto the table and making everything on top jump a few centimeters into the air. “When was the last time you were beaten by a rookie in a one-on-one? Nobodies do not win professional races. The last one to pull off that crap was when they were still running around in the dirt of Arizona! This sport is more than that now– the only people that get up on the podium don’t come from the common clay no more. The only reason people like Hooper get a shot anymore is because Gifteds with speed made this sport, otherwise he’d still be in no-where Australia selling crops for a living. She’ll fold faster than a house of cards in a tornado.”

Ryan Busch sat silently while his coach continued to rant on, fingers fiddling with the salt shaker. This was all they had talked about tonight. Cruz Ramirez. Ward had been so confident that she would fail, had been gloating about it ever since she’d left. 

Busch had only known about the bet after seeing the way Ward was treating the new kid, like he had personally spit in Ward’s eye. Turns out the kid was just friends with Ramirez, who’d had the balls to put her head on a plate for Ward to get a chance to take a knife to, all for the sake of getting him out of a contract. He doubted Ward would have told him about it sooner than the plane ride over if he hadn’t taken the time to wonder why the rookie was left in the gym after everyone else had gone to dinner. 

He had thought the same thing, though. That the bet was silly. That the kid was an idiot. That he was going to run laps around her. 

And yet, here he was, a little over a day away from having to run 50 laps to break a tie with her and fucking Hooper.

Ryan sighed quietly, closing his fist around the salt shaker. He had hoped that somewhere between the anger and the fury his coach was giving out by the tons for his competitors, that he might just have a little bit of feedback to give him on his race. 

This was the first time in a few seasons that he had felt– good about the outcome. He’d essentially made the podium already. This early in the circuit, it could only mean good things for the future. The Piston Cup could be coming home to the team because of him. Finally. 

But all Ward could talk about was the kid. 

How she didn’t deserve to be there, how she had looked like a complete joke on the livestream in her shoddy uniform, laughing as she had slid through the mud, how ridiculous it was that she’d helped people on the track instead of competing. 

When he’d had enough, he shoved the heels of his hands against the table and pushed back. “I’m going to bed.”

“Busch!” Ward said, making him come to a stop before he could get more than two steps away from the table. “Sit back down, will you?”

He let out a slow breath and turned, “Look, Ward, I came here to race. Just like I always do, for you, for this team, for the pride of being the best! Isn’t that what any of this is about? About who gets that trophy? And if Ramirez wins tomorrow, it’s because she’s the best! Like you’ve been saying all fucking week– she has no team, no money, no experience, and yet she was on pace with both me and Hooper despite all of that! If this sport didn’t want to give people like her the chance then they would have changed the qualification rules a long time ago.”

Ward peered up him with an almost disgusted look at being spoken to in such a way, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Maybe instead of worrying about her, you should do your fucking job and be my coach,” Busch bit out. “Good night.”

He stormed off, pushing the restaurant door open with enough force for it to smack the wall that made a loud noise that startled several other patrons. Ward huffed, shaking his head in disappointment. He picked up his fork and went back to stabbing at his steak, popping a piece into his mouth. 

“Damned kid,” he frowned. “Just who the hell does she think she is?” 

--

“I got it!” 

Kori Turbowitz looked up from her computer as Jim came running over to her desk. He put his computer down next to hers, turning it around so she could see the screen, leaning a hand on the desk surface to brace himself as he used the other to control the trackpad. 

“Cruz Ramirez. Recent graduate of Pride University in Swynlake,” he said, pointing to a picture of the girl who had taken the Magick Grand Prix community by surprise these past few days. First with being one of the only amateurs to qualify for the Dublin race, and then by forcing a three way tie among two top competitors. 

She and Harold, her work partner, had been trying to get to the bottom of just where she’d come from before anyone else. 

Kori rolled her light brown, almost amber, eyes, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. Her dark hair had been scooped up into a claw clip at the back of her head, only her bangs hung down over her forehead. “We know that. Just like we know she helped get that university program started.”

“Yes, but–!” Jim, who was a boxy looking man with dark features and a full dark beard, held up a finger, then used it to click the next page he had up on his computer. It was a twitter page. One belonging to Lightning McQueen. The one he had pulled up was from a few years ago now, but as soon as she read it over, Kori remembered it. The whole scandal about him poking fun at the Magick-friendly town had been the beginning of his exit, hadn’t it? “My daughter goes to school in one of them and I think that’s basically the equivalent of studying abroad on the Survivor Island!”

Kori’s eyes widened. “Daughter.”

“Daughter,” Jim agreed. 

She sat back up. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely, look–” He hit the next tab, showing an older batch of paparazzi photos that had been taken of Lightning McQueen. His hair was still dark, lacking any of the salt and pepper streaks he was sporting these days. And there was a woman next to him. Jim read the caption aloud, “McQueen spotted around London with a woman who is not so much a mystery anymore! A source told us about Ms. Beatrice Ramirez and her whirlwind romance with the young Magick Grand Prix racer.” 

He switched to another tab. It was the town of Swynlake’s website, where it had listed a group of names with their contact information. Beatrice Ramirez was among them. 

“So that’s why he was there,” Kori grinned. “Family! She’s a nepobaby! Oh this is perfect. Jim, you’re a superstar!” 

“I already called Beatrice’s number, but it’s for her work office. Guess she isn’t in on the weekends,” he said. 

“She’s probably here,” she said. “It would have been nice, but this is more than enough. Come on! We gotta get a draft ready for Andrea before anyone else catches onto this.”

Jim picked up his computer and headed back over to his desk. The sound of fingers on keyboards took over from there.

--

Bessie found her mother on the living room couch, smiling at her phone. The older woman looked up as her daughter entered and said, “Look! Cruz is all over my page!”

Sure enough, when Bessie looked at the phone screen, it was her daughter’s face under the headline; Lightning McQueen’s Daughter Stuns Dublin Track This Afternoon. She snatched it out of her mum’s hand and read frantically over the article. When she’d seen enough she held it back out, her mother taking it from her with a disapproving look as Bessie slumped back.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she sighed. 

“She told you she was going, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” Bessie said, then gave her mother a sideways look. “I can’t imagine how she managed to get there, though.” 

The older woman ignored her daughter's eyes in favor of continuing to tap at her phone. After awhile, she turned it off and shifted to face her daughter. Emily Ramirez frowned at her, eyes narrowed a little, “Do you want her to fail just so you can rub it in her face?”

“No!” Bessie said, aghast. “How can you say that?”

“You’ve never encouraged her,” she reasoned. “I just don’t know why. Been between thinking you don’t want to admit to being wrong or because you don’t want her to have something of him.” 

Bessie shook her head. “It’s neither of those things! All you’ve ever done is encourage her to be more than what she is, and look how that turned out. She was devastated. And then he came here, and he made it worse. She was heartbroken. So what will you do, hmm? When she fails? What happens if she can’t come back from this one?”

“I’ll continue to do what I’ve always done,” her mother said, calm and steady. “I’ll support and encourage her. Don’t you understand, honey? This isn’t about him anymore. Maybe it was to start, but she loves that sport. He gave it to her, but you have never lost her to it. And you never will. She has a talent, and this might be her only chance to show herself that she can share it with the rest of the world. Heaven knows she’s spent all her life just trying to get you and Montgomery to hear her! Frankly it’s about time she got out there and started showing everyone else, rather than wasting it on the pair of you. At least they’re listening.”

Bessie blinked at this. 

Emily sighed, shifting to stand. She walked around the couch, on her way to her room, but stopped before passing through to the hallway to say, “At least he’s finally the one there for her.” 

[cruzzramirez]

Right On Track || Self-Para

Set: October 3rd Cruz races in her first Magick Grand Prix Race.

The first step off of the starting line was even more thunderous than the crowd. Over 150 Magicks crossing over into the race had Cruz’s skin vibrating, both with noise and with sheer excitement. 

Everywhere around her something amazing was happening! A fairy was clapping dust into the air and shrinking down, wings fluttering. A Gifted was crouching down and then leaping into the air, far and above everyone’s heads to bound over them. A sorcerer was pulling things off of people, hands making nothing into something. A shifter had gone from a person to some sort of giant wild cat, but with blue fur, and had taken off. And, of course, the people with speed had shot off leaving dust clouds in their wake. 

Cruz frowned at this, wondering what their strategy was to go fast straight out of the jump, but shook herself out of that headspace quickly– no need to get caught up in what someone else was doing! She had to focus on her plan, and her plan was to stick to Rowdy Busch like glue. 

All she had to do was beat him. That was her goal. Everyone else were just other obstacles of the course for her to weave through. 

Since she had only just run the Kelly Course earlier that week, it was still fresh on her mind. But she had seen a bunch of the professionals crawling over the course leading up to the day, getting their practice in, seeing what all had been changed or modified. Everyone who was smart about the game would know to have gotten familiar with the environment so they could build their game plan. 

The first obstacle was an easy one, and a staple of this place– it was a giant wall that you had to get passed. The track had narrowed and started to slope down, guiding its racers down into an incline with walls on all sides. Two of them were warded with magic, the energy fields obvious warning signs that they were not the ones they were supposed to be looking at. That was intended for the one that was about the size of a three story building, looming over them. 

A few racers had stopped to peer up at it, but a good majority didn’t even blink. Some phased straight through it, others used flight to start heading up and over, but for people like Cruz, who didn’t have those advantages, took to the wall itself. The outer layer of it was like a giant cage, bars that were there to climb. And climb Cruz did. 

Once her feet touched the ground she used her magic to put some distance between herself and the wall, knowing that what came next wouldn’t be beneficial to be around a lot of people.

It was a bridge of sorts, the track running over a massive vat of what the Magick Grand Prix liked to call Boogie. It was like a goo, basically. It wasn’t harmful to touch or even to ingest. It was, essentially, nothing. It had no taste or smell or anything, other than that it was like runny snot, hence the name. It made one very slippery, so falling into it was a total time waster– and also a sensory nightmare. Cruz had no intention of going over into it. 

And she knew that plenty of people’s strategies was going to be pushing their fellow racer into it if given the chance. 

The track running over the lake of Boogie was about 20 centimeters wide and had no railing to speak of. When Cruz got to the edge, there was already about ten people down in the pit, struggling to get themselves out. Someone else was clinging to the track by their fingers, feet dangling and kicking at the empty air below them, their swinging shoe lace brushing the surface of the gelatin below. 

Cruz quickly dashed across the length of the narrow track to get to them and crouched down until she could straddle it. “Here! Give me your hand!”

“Uh–” the struggling man blinked at her. “What?”

“I’ll help you up,” she told him. “Come on!” 

“No way!” he yelled, going as far as to move his hands so swing himself a few inches further down the track to get away from her. He had a New Zealand accent and his eyes glowed– literally! They went bright red with what she assumed was a warning. “I know how this goes, I let go and then you throw me over. Uh uh.” 

“I promise I won’t,” she insisted, scooting herself after him. “We’ve got a whole race ahead of us, don’t waste all your arm and grip strength trying to get back up. There’s a whole pack about to be here, and they aren’t going to wait for your fingers to move.”

Cruz held out her hand, pinky raised. The man’s eyes darted past her toward where people would be approaching sooner or later, then back to her. His eyes dimmed from the red lights back to regular brown irises. With a sigh he lifted a pinky from where it was clutching the track and Cruz grinned, giddy, and wrapped her pinky around his. Then she grabbed onto his arm and hauled his weight up. 

He was a big guy, made of muscle and probably not a whole lot else. And not the type of muscles that were lean and pleasing to the cameras of Hollywood. He was stocky but not at all short, with a wide set of shoulders and hips. As soon as Cruz had given him the boost he needed, he was able to lift his arms up onto the track and then swing a massive leg up, too. Crus reached out to steady him when he started to tip over the other side of the track, keeping a hand on his arm as he got into a sitting position on the track like her. 

She smiled, watching him catch his breath and then gasped, snatching her hand back. Her hands pressed into her cheeks as she stared at him, “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! You’re Aki Parapara!” 

The man picked his head up to squint at her, his open mouth pulling further with the motion to show his teeth as he continued panting. 

“You’re amazing! I’m such a huge fan! Oh my god, that last Las Vegas race was so amazing, the way you pulled one over on Nathan Murphy had me and my friends screaming at the television it was so cool,” she gushed. 

“Um,” said Mr. Parapara. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” Cruz said, then dragged her hands down, pulling at the skin of her cheeks. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m talking to you right now in the middle of–! Oh. Oh, we should probably get away from here, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agreed and then stood up, carefully making his way across the rest of the track one foot at a time. Cruz followed after him easily. Once they were on the other side of the Boogie pit, Mr. Parapara turned to look at her again. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I’m Cruz!” she said. “Cruz Ramirez.”

“Right. Well, thanks again Cruz. I’ll see you at the finish line?”

“Oh wow,” she breathed and then nodded. “Yes! Yes absolutely!”

“Alright,” he smiled and then started off at a jog, lights flickering over his body as he went. Cruz stayed behind until he was out of sight to squee a bit, jumping up and down, before she turned to look behind her. 

No one was there, save for the people still fighting to get out of the pit below. Few! She cleared her throat, turned back to the track, and got going again. 

Cruz passed by a lot of people on the next leg and obstacles, but had yet to see Busch among them, causing her to push forward through the laps until the first break of the day where she went to her tent as soon as the time started. She could hardly believe she had made well enough time to have gotten to the tents with no laps to make up, she had the full time of the break to rest and replenish. 

She was welcomed by the familiar faces of her friends. 

“Cruz!” Jae was the first one by her side, holding up an ear piece for her. “We’ve finally got the radio working!” 

“Brilliant,” she grinned, plucking it from between Jae’s fingers to put in her ear. “Have you got any athletic tape? Just to make sure it stays put.”

“On it, boss,” Jae said, giving a quick salute before bouncing off. Everyone crowded around as she stepped further into the tent, all ready to help. They were offering cool towels for her neck, water to drink, and energy boosting snacks to eat in the short amount of time that she had. And there McQueen was, with words of encouragement and advice on where she was losing time. 

“–but overall, you’re doing great out there,” he smiled.

“Yeah!” Gavin grinned, stripping the towel from her and getting a dry one to take its place. “No shit, you’re doing great. You’re in 6th place!” 

Cruz nearly choked on her water, having to spit out the mouthful in order to cough up the rest that had gone down the wrong wind pipe. “I am?”

Her heart stuttered in her chest and then everything else went numb, her eyes trickling to the side as she sort of left herself for a moment. 6th place. 6th place…in a professional race…out of 156 people….and she was…

“Hey Gav! Come over here,” Jae said after they had finished applying the tape to her ear, bundling Gavin around the neck with an arm and pulling the boy away from where Cruz was staring off into space. McQueen watched the pair go and then turned concerned eyes onto Cruz. He waited a moment for her to come back, glancing up at the clock counting down the time to when

“Cruz?” McQueen said, his hand a solid weight on her shoulder. She closed her eyes in a long blink before opening them back up to peer at him. He smiled, fingers gripping softly for a moment before he shifted, standing at her side and steering her back over toward the line where the racers came out of the tents and back onto the track when the race was to begin again. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just excited. You race your race, let everyone else worry about the scores. You’re having fun, aren’t you?” 

She nodded dumbly. He used the arm around her shoulder to squeeze her against his side. 

“Then that’s all that matters, kid,” he said. “Just have fun. You’re here! You’re in it– you just gotta finish it now.”

“Finish it…right,” Cruz muttered to herself and then blinked the daze of 6th place out of her eyes to look at McQueen in full focus. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for. And now that we got that earpiece working, I’ll be there with you every step of the way,” he said, then let go of her so she could head to the line as the timer wound down. 

The light turned green and Cruz got back to it. 

She looked up as she gently worked herself back up to a running pace, blinking when something wet fell onto her forehead. Cruz tilted her head back to peer up at the sky.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

And then the heavens opened upon them. 

It rained for the next half hour, turning the track into a slippery, muddy, mess of a place. It wasn’t a light misting either, it was a downpour. It drenched everything in sight, soaking everyone who wasn’t resistant to water, who couldn’t charm their clothes to be so, or who couldn’t control it. The drops were fat and they were coming down hard, making it hard to see so much as a meter out from one’s nose. 

And yet, Cruz couldn’t find it in herself to be all that angry. 

Sure it put a damper on her own magic, since she didn’t want to go barrelling down the muddy track and go spinning out to really injure herself, but there was something that she loved about running in the rain. It was freeing in a way. 

She came upon the massive hill that led down to the jumping course across the river down below and watched for a moment as a few racers were trying to make their way down it. Cautious with their movements, trying not to go sliding with the unsecure ground. 

“Damn,” a voice said beside her, making her look up. “That’s a real dog’s breakfast, ain’t it?”

Her jaw went slack because standing there was none other than Samuel Hooper in all his glory. He was tall– well, she knew his height and weight, actually! 6'2’’ and 101 kg. 

What? It was under his name when you Googled him! His team put it on their website for everyone to know! It was public knowledge! She wasn’t weird!! 

…anyway. 

His hair, which was a color that she could only describe as too-dark-to-be-blonde-but-too-light-to-be-brunette-but-actually-kinda-red-in-the-right-lighting, was long this year. She had seen it in many differing forms as she’d followed his career. When he had started out he’d had it shaved close to his head, then he had let it grow out a few inches on the top to show its wavy boarding on curly texture but kept the sides short. These days he had let it all grow out. Wettened by the rain, it was all slicked back and stuck together, except for a perfect curl that was plastered to his forehead. 

He wasn’t what most would consider conventionally pretty, but he was handsome all the same. With his oval shaped face, square jaw and kind, heavy lidded eyes. They were also hard to define in terms of color, but she had always thought they were best described as grey. The gloomy dark overcast of the lighting they were standing in only confirmed it for her as he turned them to regard her. He smiled, it was small but enough for his dimples to show on his freckled cheeks. 

Cruz wished that a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her down. 

This was Sam Hooper! THE Sam Hooper! Her favorite racer! (Well, second favorite behind McQueen– but since he’d retired, Sam had totally taken over.) The racer she would yell, Goals at the screen about when watching races or highlight reels. 

He was a beast on the track. An all around amazing racer as far as skill and brains went, and he was humble. Sure, he was more than willing to get into a tussle with someone if they were out for blood, having shoulder checked ol’ Rowdy Revin’ Ryan Busch himself off the track when the htB racer had tried to trip Hooper on the last lap of the final race on the Piston Cup Circuit the season before last, but he was nice, too! Always having a laugh with fellow racers and referees, knowing how to take a joke and when to dish them back out. He had a charity for environmental conservation and a program for kids in the sport! He was a freaking angel! 

And he was standing there, staring at her– where she was covered in mud, soaking wet, in an old jumpsuit. She probably looked a mess. 

To be fair, so did he, but he apparently had been blessed with the uncanny way of being able to pull it off in the perfectly messy sort of way. 

Alright, so maybe he was actually the worst. Her opinion could be easily swayed, her loyalties falling apart.  

“How’d you reckon?” he asked, then tipped his head to the side, nodding toward the hill they were looking down. And wow, his Australian accent sure was prominent, wasn’t it? “You alright?” 

“Huh?” Oh. Oh shit, Samuel Hooper had asked her a question and she had just stared at him! “I’m sorry! Uh! Yeah– this? Pfft. East peasy, lemon squeezy, am I right?”

Hooper blinked. 

Cruz continued to smile despite feeling herself die on the inside! Lemon squeezy???? Where the fuck had that come from? 

The depths of hell, probably. 

“Yeah?” he asked, then took a step back and waved an arm slowly, like he was welcoming her into a door he had just opened. Samuel Hooper bowed a little at the waist. “After you, then.”

“Me? Wow. Yeah, okay!” She let out a laugh that she had never heard herself make before and then decided that she needed to get out of there before she made an even bigger fool out of herself. Cruz turned to the hill and considered it for all of three seconds before she made her decision. There was really only one thing to do when presented with a giant muddy hill with no sharp objects poking up out of the ground. Right? 

Cruz took a few steps back to get a running start, bending down low to the ground as she went, and as soon as she got close to the beginning of the slope she jumped. 

She landed on her stomach, kicking up a splash of watery mud that hit her right in the face that she closed her eyes and mouth against. But as soon as the sensation fell away she opened her eyes again. On her belly, arms out stretched, Cruz went sliding down the hill. 

She laughed, pure and loud. A childlike glee produced in her chest, nostalgic for playing like this when she had been younger, without a care in the world about anything other than doing something to experience it and finding the joy in it. There was nothing quite like a mud slide, and there never would be. Which was why she hadn’t been able to resist the call of it– even in front of one of her personal heroes. 

Her body eventually did a spin and she flipped herself onto her back, sitting up as she got closer to the bottom until her momentum eventually came to a crawl, and then an altogether stop. 

Cruz laughed, slapping her palms into the mud before pushing herself up to peer up the hill. 

Samuel Hooper still stood there, but now there were several other racers watching, too. She wiped her face off with her sleeve, which didn’t really do much of anything since it was dirty, too, and then turned, off to go get started on another round of the river obstacle. 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Theodore Vernon asked. 

Samuel Hooper, who was Teddy’s best friend despite Teddy always saying otherwise in interviews that brought the other up, continued to watch Ramirez as she blurred away, shook his head. He let out a confused bark of laughter and turned to Teddy, “...I have no idea.” 

The larger man grunted and forged ahead, turning to the side as he started down the slippery slope, “And you said you weren’t worried about her. Ha!” 

The next few laps had Cruz stuck deep in her own brain as the course began to become familiar and the time sunk into it longer and longer. 

This was the part of the sport that she would always warn her racers about. The part where it started became a mental game– not with anyone else, but with yourself. Yet, there she was, not heeding her own warnings and advice, too busy thinking. 

Everybody she saw, she couldn’t help thinking about who was in what place. Where was she? Holding 6th? Or had she just fallen to 8th? No– 9th? How many people had gone over the wall? How many people had gotten themselves a time penalty doing something she couldn’t see? How many people had already dropped? How many had she lapped, if any? 

“Cruz,” came McQueen’s voice in her ear, startling her from her soupy introspection. She had been running, zoned out, using her magic to push a little faster and the sound made her falter– and she fell. Tripped, went down to the ground at a rate that she usually avoided. Coming out of the speed she had been going in such an abrupt way made her spill to the ground hurt more. Dirt kicked up around her and she went tumbling off the track, into the grass, and down the little hill. 

After the initial shock of it passed and her body began sending signals back to her brain, she groaned. 

“Cruz? What just happened? Are you alright?”

“No,” she replied, cautiously rolling over onto her back. “I fell.”

There was a long silence, though she could hear the sound of voices at a low timber, like McQueen was putting his hand over the microphone in order to say something. That annoyed her a little, but she had other things to be more annoyed about. She pushed herself up on her elbows and then got her palms underneath her to sit up all the way. Her eyes took inventory of her person, seeking out the places that were calling out via her nervous system. 

The right knee of her jumpsuit was torn, exposing her skin. Cruz leaned forward, expression pinching when she saw blood. 

“Are you hurt? Where are you? I can send medical–”

“No,” she repeated, this time with more bite to it. She gingerly poked at the skin around the injury. “I’m fine. It’s just a scrape.” 

“You sure? Look, don’t push yourself if you’re really hurt. It’s not worth it.”

“I’m sure,” she said Cruz bent her knee a few times to test it, eyes watching the track as bodies went by. Each one another number, pushing her down the ladder. Yeah, it was just a scrape. It would probably turn into a nasty bruise and be super annoying to heal since it was on her knee where the skin stretched every time she moved it, meaning the scab that would form there would constantly be in pain. And for the race, the raw skin was going to be exposed to the elements. 

“Then let’s go,” McQueen encouraged. 

She breathed in and got back onto the track, setting back into a jog. How long had she been down? Five minutes? Ten? How much time had she let go? How far behind was she now? How was she ever going to make it up? And she still had no idea where the hell Busch was or if she was ahead of him. Fuck, he might be in first place for all she knew! 

Tears began to brim and she let them fall. They were hot on her cheeks in comparison to the rain that, while it had slowed significantly, was still coming down. She let out a noise of frustration as her emotions began to spill over. “What am I doing?” 

She was tired. She was cold and wet. Her knee hurt. Her feet were starting to ache, too. She slowed down. 

“I can’t do this,” she sighed. 

“Who said that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone.”

“That seems like an exaggeration. I certainly don’t remember saying that.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I ever told you I wanted to be a racer before,” she said. 

“Sure you did.”

Cruz blinked. “What?” 

“That’s all you ever said to me when you were a kid,” McQueen insisted. “Well, a smaller kid, anyway. I just…I’m sorry. I should have known being a trainer hadn’t been your first dream.” 

“Oh,” she said and swallowed thickly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What was it like? For you? On your first race?” Cruz could remember that video clearly. She had only watched it a million times over. “How did you know you could do it?”

There was a beat of silence before he answered. “I don’t know…I just never thought I couldn’t.”

She snorted, sad and wistful. “I wish I knew what that felt like.”

“But you do,” he said. “I think every kid here, hooping and hollering your name can attest to it. You always believed in them– that’s why you’re here. Because you believed in Marsh so much you were willing to risk everything. You can make anyone believe in themself. Hell, you made me believe in myself, even when I thought I was down for the count.” 

Her lip wobbled as she fought to keep the sob from coming out. 

“Look, Cruz, there’s nothing I can say to make you believe in yourself. That’s something you’ve gotta figure out for yourself. I know I wasn’t around to get you a head start on it. So I’m just going to have to make up for it double time now,” McQueen said and she could hear the smile in his voice. It wasn’t that big, machismo one he had for the lights and the cameras, for her when he would visit on the occasion. No, this was the smaller one. The warmer one. The one that reached his eyes. The one Cruz knew she had the etchings of in her own features, knowing it had made her mother glance away from her oh-so briefly when she had been smaller. 

Suddenly, a tune was beating over the earpiece. She frowned until it started to become familiar, her body knowing it before her brain could remember that it was one of her old reliable tunes for warm-ups. 

“Let’s see if this’ll help you,” McQueen said.

“Noooo,” she groaned, but she was grinning now. Cruz could picture the tent now, everyone bouncing and bobbing to the beat. Cameras were probably all over the former racer making a fool of himself. clip farming. “Please don’t!” 

McQueen started speaking in time with the beat of the song, “You got this! You got this! I knoooow you got this! I believe! I believe! You are do-ing veryvery great! Just get back out there and beat them with– what rhymes with good? …What’d you say Jae?...ate? Ate what?”

“Stop! Stop!” Cruz laughed, having to clutch at her stomach. Tears continued to flow, but that was only because her emotions were all mushed together, no longer discernible. But they were no longer sad, either. Fresh amusement and happiness made them easier to blink away, “I’m going, okay? I’m going!” 

And she did, picking up her pace and dipping into her magic. Her steps became more confident, less drunken and tired, her strides lengthening. 

“Alright! Then you better pick up your pace. You’ve got a few minutes to make up for. You got it?”

Cruz straightened her spine, feeling the air become lighter as the rain seemed to finally let up. 

“I got it.”

Kicking it into high gear, Cruz gunned it through the next few laps. There was some worry that she wouldn’t have enough left in the tank to make it across the finish line, but she didn’t let it get to her. 

Because– while there was a lot riding on the outcome of this race, she did realize that McQueen had been right about one thing. Well, unfortunately she was going to have to admit he had been right about a few things, but the one she was leaning on at present was that this was supposed to be fun. 

She was never, ever, ever going to get another chance like this. She had already graduated uni, she couldn’t get those years she could have been competing back and there was no rec league for the sport, it was too small even on the serious side. She had only gotten entry to the qualifier because of a bet, because Ward hadn’t anticipated she would enter herself. This was probably her last race ever. So she was going to enjoy it for all it was worth. 

“Cruz, I don’t mean to startle you, but this’ll be the second to last lap,” McQueen informed her. “You’re coming up on Hooper and Busch. They’re neck and neck at the river bank. Where are you?”

“Coming up on it!” she said, running from where she actually had to step down the hill like a non-idiot. Cruz eyed where the two were jumping from platform to platform across the river, watching the path that Busch had taken before jumping out onto the first one. She had worked it out by now, having taken the same steps for the last half of the race. It allowed her to quickly catch up, getting to the other side of the obstacle and onto the last stretch as she watched the two ahead of her burn around the corner toward the finish line. 

For the first time all race, Cruz set her eyes on Ryan Busch in that bright green jumpsuit. 

He was older than either her or Samuel Hooper. He wasn’t quite in veteran territory as of yet, but he had just turned 38 this past year. Of course this meant that everyone thought he was on his death bed– but Cruz felt like he still had a lot more to give. If only he wanted to give it. 

Today, it seemed like he did. She could only guess that Ward had set a fire under his ass, not wanting to lose the bet. 

She dug deeper, getting herself a few more meters closer to the pair. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up!” Busch called out, not breaking his stride. His accent was thick with the  “About time, darlin’! I’d been hearing about you all week. I was beginning to think you were going to disappoint everyone and tap out early.”

The massive wall was just up ahead and no one pressed on the gas, all clamoring up the rungs in front of them. Hooper had the strength on his side, Busch the length, but Cruz didn’t have all the weight the pair of them did. She quickly got out ahead, getting over the top by a few steps, and was able to get to the ground before either of them by taking the risk in jumping a meter before what anyone would call safe. 

But the lead only lasted long enough to get her safely across the Boogie pit, the hair on the back of her neck standing up as she could hear the grunts and slaps exchanged between the two racers behind her as they no doubt battled to see who was going to get across the track first. 

Busch had apparently won that round, because suddenly he was right next to her. 

She kept her eyes forward and drifted away from him, knowing better than to run within reaching distance of him.

The last lap continued like that– one of the three of them would pull out ahead, only for another to overtake them on another obstacle, depending. All until they had made it back to the river. 

Cruz didn’t hesitate in taking her reliable path. She was breathing hard, her muscles arguing with every move that she made, but they worked with her nevertheless. Everything was. Every joint, bone, and blood vessel. They were all singing the same song, feet marching the tune that her heart was beating out. There was no part of Cruz Ramirez that was not there. She was entirely within that singular moment, the past and the future no longer leaking through. There was only the present. There was only that race. There was only her and the track and the step that she was in the middle of taking. 

She was the first across, but the two men were right on her heels. 

As they got closer to the finish line the sounds of the stadium roared. The lights beamed overhead, cutting through the dim grey of the late afternoon. The track began to firm up as dirt turned over into the artificial rubber. As soon as their feet hit it the sound of their shoes picked up, and it sounded like they were all hitting their strides in time with one another. 

Busch leaned hard into her lane, trying to block her out but Cruz had anticipated and slowed, letting him go to the inside shoulder as they turned a generous curve. Hooper kept to the outside, keeping her as a buffer between himself and Busch. 

The last straight stretched out in front of them and Cruz knew that this was it– the difference between winning and losing was going to be these last meters. She couldn’t let up. She couldn’t let a stray thought into her mind. There was absolutely no room for error. She had to beat this guy. She had to beat this guy. 

They all ran, huffing and puffing, feet smacking down hard on the track. 

The crowd yelled. Airhorns were blown. Music was playing somewhere. 

All Cruz could hear was the rapid beat of her heart in her ears. 

The finish line was ten meters away. 

Five. 

Three. 

Two. 

One. 

Gone.

She continued to run, to jog, and then came to a stop, hands instantly bracing themselves on the top of her head as she struggled to get a breath in. This wasn’t like the qualifier– she had nothing left, her legs felt like they were made of Boogie. 

Behind her Ryan Busch had crouched down on his haunches, one hand bracing himself against the ground. Hooper was still standing, pacing as he stared up at the screen that would display who had won in that photo finish. 

Everyone was– but nothing was coming up on the screen. 

“Cruz!” someone yelled and she looked down to find McQueen racing over to her, everyone else followed close behind. They all crowded around her, Ava pulling her into a hug that Cruz practically fell into, body more than willing to let someone else hold it up. The smaller girl laughed and staggered with the added weight, Tanner having to come help by taking Cruz under the arm on one side while Ava adjusted to be under the other one. 

“That was ah-may-zing,” Jae grinned. “I thought I was going to fucking die, mate, my heart was beating so fast.”

“Who won?” Josh asked, making everyone look back up at the screen.

“They’re probably deliberating,” McQueen said with a one shoulder shrug. “They got all that fancy technology these days– they’ll be able to tell. Come on, let’s get her back to the tent to sit down. I’m going to go see if I can get an answer.”

Cruz sunk into the chair they deposited her in and greedily took the water that was offered to her, drinking it in long pulls from the bottle until it was gone. Then she went back to focusing on her breathing until she could think about anything else. 

“They’re taking forever,” Jae complained. “I mean, come on, my adrenaline high’s already worn off!”

“Be kind, Jae,” Cruz scolded from her seat. “The race isn’t over for everyone. They probably won’t announce it until everyone's crossed the finish line.” 

“Pah,” they waved their hand at her. 

“How are you feeling, Cruz?” Nadine asked. 

She thought about that question for a moment and then grinned, “I feel great, actually.” 

The other girl smiled, nose wrinkling. She lifted her hands above her head and yelled victoriously, “Fuck yeah! Top three, baby!”

“Top three!” the rest of the tent echoed. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a booming voice said over the loud speakers within the stadium. A hush washed over the area, the once louder than life crowd went eerily quiet as everyone perked up to listen. “A three-way tie has occurred for first place tonight. In light of this situation, a 50 lap tie-breaker will be raced the day after tomorrow between Ryan Busch, Samuel Hooper, and Cruz Ramirez to determine a winner.” 

There was a beat before an excited rush of conversation over took it. 

“A tie?” Gavin frowned. “Is that the usual procedure?”

Cruz shrugged, “It’s not usually a problem, but that is the standard.”

“That sucks! You only get a day to rest?” Tanner frowned. 

“Oi, does that mean we aren’t going to a pub tonight to celebrate?” Jae frowned, earning themselves an array of objects being thrown their way. 

Tied. She’d tied with two professionals. One a legend, in his own smarmy right. The other with the makings to become one, too. 

Huh. Who would have thought? 

McQueen returned to the tent as everyone was packing and cleaning up, Cruz’s rule to always leave a space better than when they had found it still in effect despite the clean up crew this place no doubt budgeted for. He was grinning as he approached Cruz, "Congratulations, kid! What’d I tell you?”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he shook his head. “That was all you, Cruz.”

“No,” she said, firm. “It wasn’t. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

His expression softened and he gave a small nod. 

Then, to break the tension because she wasn’t about to sit in that after a whole day of wallowing in it, she said, “I mean right down to the technical sense! If you had only worn protection–”

“Okay, okay,” McQueen laughed, reaching forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders to start walking with her and the rest of the group toward the nearest exit. He sniffed and then made a show of leaning away from her, “Yeesh. We need to get you a shower.”

“And food,” she said. 

Everyone seemed to agree, only to start arguing about where they were going to go for dinner. Cruz smiled for a moment, only for something to catch in her chest as they passed through the doors inside the stadium. 

Suddenly, it hit her. 

She was going to have to do that all over again. 

Cruz groaned.