Greetings fellow fanfic writers! This is Andre, aka The Drive-in Theatre, with his debut piece, featuring an action-packed crossover fanfic between the Disney/Pixar movie Cars and the Fox Network's TV show 24.

I happen like both Cars and 24, as well as a general car chase fan. So I thought to myself: What if Jack Bauer was a automobile in the world of Cars? Who would be the villians? What if all the residents of Radiator Springs and the racing world were put through, as J.B. calls it, "the longest day" of their lives? What would be a suitable plot? How will the characters interact with each other? Why hasn't anyone attempted this before?

I guess the answer to the last question is because it's just insane and that nobody would even think of such a combination. Which sounded great to me. So I put a challenge to myself, to mash the two seemingly disparate worlds of the Disney movie and the Fox TV show, and see whether I can pull it off.

The result of this mash is what you'll read below. I always thought of myself as a fairly decent writer, so this will be the ultimate test, so to speak.

The format for this rendition of a real-time episode goes like this: Jack's usual introduction of the time period opens every chapter. Whenever there's a venue change, the name of the place will preceed the portion of that story in italics. Running reminders of the current time will be in bold and will show 3 seconds, while ad breaks will be denoted by two series of 4 seconds (usually 5 minutes apart to indicate the break) in bold. A summary of the ongoing plots will be displayed in the climax during the final minutes, with each place written in italics again. Lastly, the final countdown to the end of the hour will be the last 4 seconds in bold. Once you read it, you'll figure it all out anyway.

Before we begin, I would like to take the opportunity to give a shout-out to my other creative pursuits. I own a channel on Youtube called 'thedriveintheatre89', where I post film music videos and my own special brand of parody trailers. You can also see me on the Pixar Planet and Varaces forums, where I indulge my animation and car chase interests respectively. I'm also considering getting a DeviantArt account for more artistic 'pursuits', so to speak.

Few final notes of disclaimer. I DO NOT OWN Cars or 24. They solely belong to Disney/Pixar Animation Studios and Fox Entertainment Network respectively. I only claim copyright over fan-made characters such as Yuri, Pierre Mot, Sarah, Bill, Ethan and Takashi.

And now, fasten your seatbelts, folks. The longest day of Lightning McQueen and the rest of Radiator Springs is about to begin. Let's start the clock...

The following takes place between 6:00 AM and 7:00 AM.

The Cozy Cone Motel, Radiator Springs

The sun peeked out over the tailfin peaks of Cadillac Range. Its rays slowly washed over the valley below, gradually illuminating the arid Arizona desert. From total darkness, the sky changed to a creamy magenta, to an eventual pale blue. Dawn has arrived in the little town of Radiator Springs, and with it a brand new day full of possibilities.

A light azure Porsche 911 blinked her eyes open. With a yawn and a stretch of her tires, Sally Carrera drowsily opened the door to her cone and rolled out onto the driveway.

Over at the Army Surplus Hut, Sarge took a deep breath. Nothing like rising early in the morning to greet a brand new day. He blew on his bugle his usual morning roll call tribute to the now steadily climbing sun in the sky. The star spangled banner chases after the burning orb. The war veteran stood at attention for a few moments. The Jeep always considered himself a patriot, and was proud to serve his country. Strains of Bob Marley drifted through the still morning air. Sarge grumbled; if it was not Jimi Hendrix, it would be a reggae number from that hippy van's old records. He muttered an insult under his breath before lifting the bugle to his lips again to drown out the Rastafarian's crooning.

Sally stood admiring the beautiful sunrise as strains of Reveille echoed across the land. She always liked to watch the sunrise every day. No matter what happens, whether she or anyone else lives or dies today, the sun will always faithfully make its daily journey to the heavens every day. The Porsche smiled.


"Good morning, Miss Sally!" said a cheerful voice.

Sally snapped out of her thoughts and turned to see her old friend, a rusty tow truck.

"Mornin', Mater," she replied.

"Well, it's the big day fer Lightnin'", he commented as the opening chords of Marley's 'One Love' started from Filmore the local hippy's hut.

"Yeah, exciting huh?" answered Sally. "The final race of the new Piston Cup season. 200 laps of pure adrenaline. 500 miles of speed."

"1 heck of a race," a voice said behind them. Lightning grinned at his two friends as he rolled towards them.

"Hey, Stickers," greeted Sally.

"Howdy Lightnin'!" hollered Mater. "You ready fer the most important day of yer life?"

"The most important day of my life..." said Lightning, glancing sideways at Sally, "...was the day I came to this town."

"More like barreled into it," snickered Sally. Ever since the near-kiss a year ago, Lightning and Sally had silently settled on a platonic friendship. They would tease each other every now and then, and do the occasional race to the Wheel Well, but neither party dared made the first move. Sally had convinced herself that she could never be involved in a romantic relationship with a celebrity in the racing circuit. Love was a leap of faith, and she was too scared to jump. She supposed he felt the same way too, with his longing glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. So they settled on being just close pals, and nothing more, much to Mater's disappointment.

"There you are, hotrod!"

Doc Hudson, a royal blue Hudson Hornet, wheeled towards the group. "We need to leave by 8 if we're to make it in time for the pre-race meeting. That gives us a little more than one-and-a-half hour to get ready, while Mack loads up on fuel. It starts at..."

"6:00 pm, I know. Race is at 8. And we need at least 5 hours for the 500-mile ride." Lightning rolled his eyes.

"Maybe more if you want to stop over for lunch and still be early," added Sally.

Mater turned to look at the sun, now bathing the country in a warm golden glow. Sarge's screams mingled with Filmore's drawly protests in the warm morning air.

"Yep, it's gonna be a looong day," he commented cheerfully.



Morning dew clung to the desert vegetation strewn along the cliff faces a few miles outside Radiator Springs. A lone wooden billboard stood by the side of the road, marking the town limits. Its withering stands creaked and groaned in the wind. The sign displayed a simple shaded outline of a canyon and a cactus plant with the words "Radiator Springs" in bold, followed by a small subtitle "Gateway to Ornament Valley" running along the bottom.

In the distance, a rumble of engines started to approach the billboard, with the loud thumping bass of rap music preceding them. Four cars now appear, hurtling way past the speed limit over the horizon. To local law enforcement officers, and victims of their pranks and misdemeanors, this ragtag group of miscreants were known as the Delinquent Road Hazards, or the DRH for short. Their loud chortles as one of them told a joke pierced through the still morning air.

"And then he said, 'Yes Officer, I was a little over the speed limit. You see my brakes aren't working and I want to get home before I have an accident!" Boost, a grey Mitsubishi Eclipse with rear-mounted nitrous cans and a wide spoiler smiled smugly as he delivered the punchline.

The rest of the gang laughed heartily in appreciation of the good joke.

"Ah...heheheheheh," chuckled Wingo in his trademark staccato laughter. He was a flashy green and purple Nissan Silvia with a six-tiered ladder spoiler. "Hey dudes," he ventured, "I once knew this guy, right...and he musta been going, like, one-fifty tops. Show-off tried to beat a train to a level crossing..."

"Did he get across?" asked Boost.

"Yeah, a lovely marble one!"

The group exploded into guffaws again. Snot Rod, an orange Plymouth Barracuda with side exhaust pipes snickered before erupting into another flame sneeze triggered by the pollen from a nearby cactus.

"Jeez Snot, watch the paint!" chastised DJ, a blue Scion Xb. He changed the disk in the CD rack in his trunk. The bars on the frequency display panel on his side-skirts rose and fall in time as a heavy metal number boomed from his external speakers.

"Hey, check that out, you guys!" yelled Wingo. They had arrived at the billboard, and screeched to a stop.

DJ turned down the volume and stared at the painting. "It's that hick town 'Lightning the Queen' set up his base in!" he proclaimed as realisation dawned on them.

"How about we do them a little favour? I say this sign needs a little 'touching-up' after all those years, huh? What say you, boys?" suggested Boost with a mischevious grin.

"Alright!" whooped Wingo in agreement. "Yo, Snot! Get my paint cans out." Wingo was the most-artistically-inclined of his pals, as evidenced by his neat-looking paint job along his side panels. The quiet muscle car rolled behind Wingo and popped open the Silva's hood, careful not to knock his friend's head with his own ladder spoiler. "It's time this town got a makeover," the artist whispered gleefully.



A tumbleweed bounces along the deserted highway. On the slowly warming tarmac, a single bird hopped around, searching for worms. It was as plump and round as a tennis ball, devoid of a neck, with its head and body fused together like one fat blob. The bird chirped loudly, its call sounding like a squeaky toy, and began preening its blue feathers, but didn't get too far before it heard a low hum in the horizon. It blinked its wide, saucer-shaped eyes, the three feathers on its head rising in curiosity as the sound steadily grew to a roar. It slowly turned its head upon realising the sound was coming towards it from behind, and fast. The bird barely had time to leap out of the way before a Chevrolet Impala screamed past the spot where it once stood. Chirping indignantly, it flapped its tiny wings (which were amusingly not relative to its body size) and took to the morning sky.

"Woah, nearly made a road pizza outta that one, Bill!" joked a Ford Taurus as she pulled up in line with the Impala.

"Don't worry, I'll go faster next time!" Bill shot back at the Taurus.

"Bill and Sarah, if you both don't keep your eyes on the road, I'll make sure you're the next ones to be served on the tarmac!" growled a gruff voice over their TETRA radios.

"Ten-four, Jack. Sorry for the distraction, won't happen again, sir," replied Sarah. She switched off her radio before turning to Bill.

"Is Mr. Bauer always this serious? You know, when he's not on 'dangerous' missions like this one?"

"He's always serious. When you're CTU's best and most hated special agent at the same time, you can't afford not to be," Bill said to his partner.

"I heard that, Bill."

"Sorry, chief." the Impala replied as he glanced in his rear-view mirror at the slick-top Ford Mustang travelling a mile back.

"Apology accepted," grunted the old muscle car with a weary smile. Jack Bauer was a 1982 Mustang SSP, or Special Service Package, to be precise. When he earned his badge as a young recruit at CTU, or Counter-Terrorism Unit, an elite anti-terrorist government agency, he received an extensive body modification to suit the requirements of a field agent. 5.0 L V8 engine upgrade, 4-speed automatic transmission, a reinforced rollcage, and his very own light beacon. He didn't install the standard lightbar as he had to a lot of undercover assignments, so stealth was vital, at least until he had to arrest the suspects.

"Special agent, eh?" I like the sound of it."

Jack turned to the car cruising next to him, a smirking beige 1970 VAZ-2101. The scratches on his side panels and rusting hubcaps showed signs of his age, but beneath the ancient bodywork lies a youthful mind, quick, agile and ruthlessly merciless.

"Shut up, Yuri. We still got 300 miles to go, and the last thing I want to hear are your wiseguy remarks."

The Lada just grinned in reply. Although diminuitive in size, the Russian vehicle was the exact opposite in criminal stature. As an immigrant from the Soviet Union during the Cold War, Yuri made a living through supplying illegal arms to various organisations around the world; regions such as the Middle East, Africa, Eastern Europe, and South America. Whether it be guerrilla fighters, terrorist factions, or even secret government para-military agencies, he served anyone who wanted weapons to fight their cause. To him, race, religion, idealogies, it all didn't matter. He was just a businessmen, the middlemen who only serves his customers' interests.

Lately, he came into prominence on CTU's radar when he began selling illegal arms to several Middle Eastern terrorist cells who were fighting troops in Iraq. Capturing him became CTU's highest priority, and after several months of investigative work and stake-outs led by Jack Bauer, he was arrested in a sting operation in La Paz two days ago. He is now being transferred from the local county jail to the nearest Arizona State Prison Complex, which was approximately 500 miles from his point of arrest, before being handed over to the Russian authorities. Jack volunteered to be the commander of the five-man convoy, as he had done extensive research on the suspect in the course of his investigation and felt he knew Yuri's every move by heart. Normally such a job would be left to the U.S. Marshals, but he had managed to convince his superiors otherwise. He had a compulsive habit of taking it entirely upon himself to ensure the bad guy is brought to justice, not to mention being a fiercely loyal patriot who will do whatever it takes to protect his country. Even if it meant taking a life, as he had experienced many times before.


"Approaching tunnel, ETA 20 seconds," announced a silver 1990 Peugeot 405, who together with Jack, travelled parallel to Yuri, effectively flanking him.

"Roger that, Pierre," answered Jack. Pierre Mot was a former RAID agent, which was France's equivalent of a counter-terrorist unit. He was assigned to CTU's Field Operations Division as a French inter-agency liason. It was all part of CTU's frequent collaborations with Interpol. Jack didn't know much about the young French saloon, only that he had worked undercover with the Russian mafia and had many underworld ties, which proved invaluable when it came to busting the European crime syndicates.

They had just entered the mile-long tunnel and reached the halfway point before the CB radio chirped to life. "Uh...Jack, we got a suspicious vehicle up ahead. Looks like a curtain sider. Travelling at a constant rate of speed, I've told it twice to give way but it has refused to acknowledge. Recommended course of action?" Bill's voice crackled over the line.

"Keep requesting it to give way. Don't slow down. Ethan, Takashi, stay sharp. Wait my command," Jack responded.

"Copy that," replied a dark blue Land Rover Defender who along with a Toyota Hilux, formed the rear guard of the convoy.

Before Jack could issue the next order, Sarah's panicked voice hissed over the radio.

"Jack, the trailer's turned to block the entire tunnel. I have a bad feeling about this..."

"Alright, all units. Evacuate the tunnel immediately! I repeat, turn around, possible ambush in progress," hollered Jack.

The cab, a Peterbilt 379, detached from the trailer. The semi's metals curtains slid open to reveal three Chinese BJ212 Jeeps inside, armed with AK47 assault rifles. Leaping off the trailer's platform, they opened fire as they drove towards the scouts.

"Code red, code red! We're under fire from hostiles, retreat to tunnel entrance now!" yelled Bill as he and Sarah screeched to a halt and put their gears in reverse. Bullets ricocheted off the tunnel walls echoing like marbles rattling in a tin can. The duo pulled a reverse 180 and sped off to the main convoy.

One of the Jeeps pulled a bazooka from his side and aimed at the retreating agents. With a bright flash and leaving behind a trail of smoke, the missile launched from the barrel and raced towards its target. Bill barely had time to register the rapidly approaching cylinder of death hurtling towards him before it slammed into him, instantly detonating and blowing him into the air.

Sarah glanced in her rearview mirror to see her partner flipping forward from the impact before crashing down on his roof in a mangled heap of twisted metal. Engine racing, she shrieked into the radio, "Officer down! Get out of th..." She barely had time to finish her sentence before she got cut down by the machine gun fire.

"Sarah!" yelled Jack. He wheeled around and gunned for the entrance. The Peterbilt had also turned around and was now bearing down on him a few yards behind. He could hear the Jeeps shouting in Mandarin as they relentlessly pursued him...

Flo's Diner, Radiator Springs

Mack reverses into Lightning's trailer, coupling with the tow-bar. Once it's hitched, he drags the trailer to go meet Lightning and the rest who are having breakfast by the fuel pumps.

Welcoming Billboard, Border to Radiator Springs

The DRH snigger as Wingo spray paints over the letter 'P.' Snot Rod sneezes again.

Interior of Manifold Tunnel, near Southern Exit

"Ah bon, we've got air support," sighed Pierre in relief as they reached the glowing beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A Bell-UH-1 Huey chopper suddenly swooped into view and hovered at the entrance, its grenade launcher aimed at them. Jack saw a grenade bounce onto the road in front of Takashi, the rear guard who got out of the tunnel first.

"I don't think that's backup, Pierre," replied Jack.

A huge fireball ripped through the tunnel as an explosion knocked the Hilux into a rollover. He skidded forward on his hood, sparks flying, before Ethan crashed into him, instantly killing them both.

Jack slammed on his brakes, spinning around in a 180 to face the oncoming Peterbilt. He whipped out his USP pistol from his side-skirt holster and shot at the front wheels, puncturing them. The Peterbilt turned sharply to the left on his rims before tipping over onto his side. His forward momentum carried him on, skidding on his side down the road. The Jeeps ahead stopped and turned around to see the massive cab screeching towards them before being knocked aside like bowling pins. Jack and Pierre managed to outrun the ensuing carnage before it caught up with them.

Breathing heavily, Pierre watched the burning wreckage before them. "Zut, zut, et zut!" he muttered.

The two were now at the tunnel entrance, and they turned to the sky as they heard the hum of the helicopter's propellers as it lifted off. While they had been distracted by the pursuing semi and army jeeps, Yuri had sneaked away and boarded the chopper. He now sat expressionless in the cabin,staring down at them as the heli climbed into the clear skies. Burning with rage, Jack lifted his gun and fired at the chopper until he ran out of ammo. One of the rounds managed to hit the fuselage, and oil leaked out of the petrol tank. The Bel flinched and fired another grenade back before flying over the ridge adjacent to the tunnel.

"Get out!" Pierre yelled and shoved Jack out of the tunnel just as the grenade detonated, causing the tunnel entrance to cave in, trapping the Peugeot inside.

"Pierre!" shouted Jack as the dust cleared. He coughed and looked around in bewilderment at the unforgiving desert landscape that now surrounded him. His detainee had escaped, his entire team had been wiped out, and he was on his own. He gritted his teeth and yelled the only curse word he would say in a time like this.



So, what do ya think? I know I just can't end the first hour without Jack uttering his trademark cuss word. :) Well, if you thought that was cool, please comment! And tune in next week to see what will Jack do next!