A/N: Hello all!

So, this is the first thing I'm posting here to ! I hope it is up to standards and I also hope people enjoy reading it. It is part of my commitment by posting it here to have it finished, even if that takes a long time!

Warning: This is going to be eventual Rod/OC, with a few other OC's thrown in here and there. But again, I think it is believable.

Second Warning: /Spoiler Alert/ for Cars 2.

Rod Redline belongs to the fantastic people at Disney.

Cadence Wheeler belongs to yours truly.

Rod had never expected to wake up again. He knew he was going to die in that abandoned warehouse on the underside of that bridge in Tokyo, alone, when everyone else had given up on him. It had been his smart mouth against the world, and unfortunately Rod Redline lost. The moment the electromagnetic pulse had been set at 100% power, he had felt his entire engine block erupt in flames with the most powerful explosion he had ever felt.

Do you know what it feels like to have your insides blown out? Probably not. Not many cars on the face of the planet can say they survived that. It was sheer dumb luck and a lot of work from McMissile, Shiftwell, and the various doctors and nurses that C. R. O. M. E. had scrounged up that ended up saving his life.

The pain was immediate, despite the darkness, the dizzy, sick feeling that boiled his tank and made him want to choke and regurgitate whatever might be left in there to throw up. When was the last time he had drank anything?

Clarity. Not much, but some. Rod couldn't think much more beyond that when he went back under, the pain flaring, forcing a groan from his battered, bruised, and severely—critically—injured body.

The next time he awoke was to something a little more pleasant, but with that came clarity, and with clarity came panic. Sheer. Undeniable. Panic. He fought.

Eyes flew open, the irises behind them wide, a little cross-eyed, and round with fear. He jerked, engine flaring to life with a roar before spluttering with the effort and choking. That was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Two nurses rushed in, one right after the other, small cars, white, and pretty. This should have been ringing alarm bells within Torque's mind. It didn't. He was afraid for his life, and cars did crazy things when under that particular type of stress, especially soldiers who often suffered from PTSD. For heaven's sake, he had been recruited just after the Cold war when things were still sketchy between the US and Russia.

The blue muscle car revved his engine threateningly at the nurses, and it whined unhappily. Like a supercharger, but not quiet. More along the lines of damaged than supercharged. The nurses exchanged fearful glances. It was all the time the American agent needed. He sprang forward like a cat on the prowl, tearing past the first as the second one had time to widen her cute brown eyes and part her lips for a surprised scream. Rod sideswiped her, squeezing past in the doorway from his hospital room (for where else would he be if not in a hospital, surrounded by blank white walls?).

Rod heard the screech of tires behind him as someone else took off after him. He didn't bother checking behind him. His rear view mirrors were both still missing from the fight in the bathroom. Goodness, where those lemons still chasing him? But….

A pause to ram through a pair of doors towards the ramp down the levels of the hospital. He was going far too fast for these tight turns, and felt his sides take a further beating as he skidded around and slammed into the concrete around him as he attempted escape.

But why was he in a hospital?

"Torque! Darn you, STOP RUNNING!" A voice behind him called. The first engine, closer, running high. But it definitely sounded happier than his engine.

A second voice, British accent this time. Not at all any of the lemons. "Redline! Stop! You're going to hurt yourself!"

That made Rod slam on the breaks, and he heard like-wise screeches behind him, working hard to narrowly avoid rear-ending him. Hurt himself? He reversed, whipping back around, and his transmission ground unpleasantly at the action, but it set him nose to nose with the cars chasing him. In that moment, he had never felt more relieved as things just clicked.

"Why you felt the need to run of all things while in a hospital!" A white Nissan continued to rant, throwing her hood around in irritation. "I mean, really! It's a hospital! It isn't like you woke up in that dark warehouse again! I-!"

She stopped only because Rod actually flinched at the mention of the warehouse, and both cars were suddenly watching him very intently.

"I'm fine. You were ranting at me? Telling me how stupid I am?" He said sarcastically with a characteristic drawl.

"Don't-!" The conclusion to that demand could have been anything. But Rod never did get to hear what it was the Nissan GT-R was going to say because the other occupant of the room chose at that moment to interrupt, forcing Rod to look his way.

"Redline," the British car put in helpfully, with a pleasant tone and a lazy smile. "I think what Ms. Wheeler is attempting to explain is the fact that you should not have been about in the condition you are still in, and that we are concerned for your well-being."

The blue mustang/challenger mix turned to look at the British car. He was blue, as well, though a little lighter than the muscle car, all smooth lines and charming British class. Rod's features twisted into something that was almost unrecognizable, his lips pressed tightly together, windshield lifted, hood tilted a little to the side. He seemed… puzzled, if one could say that about the smart-mouthed car resting there.

"McMissile?" Rod asked, windshield arching up a little higher in surprise when he received the answering nod of affirmation.

Torque closed his eyes, squeezing them shut a long moment as he worked to stuff down all the feelings and exclamations that rose up within him at that one moment—many of which would have to be censored if he spit them out, anyway. He took another five seconds to compose himself before he managed to ask the first, most pressing question.

"The tow truck?" He asked, half afraid to hear he had sent the funny, kind truck to his grizzly death at the tires of the lemons.

"Mater is fine. Safely home in the States, and with his first mission under his timing belt," McMissile responded gently, with a fond grin on his features.

Rod, if it was at all possible (which it might not be), lifted his windshield a little higher in surprise. "The tow truck figured it all out?"

The British spy nodded, still grinning fondly. "Mater saved a lot of cars, but we wouldn't have been able to do it at all without you."

"Aw. You're gonna make me cry," Rod sassed, and he wasn't actually sure why this time. With the lemons, it had been necessary. They all hated each other; all made fun of each other to make themselves feel better. The thought hit him like a bullet train. He'd been spending way too much time around lemons.

McMissile seemed to have taken the jest well enough. The same could not be said for the Nissan. She barged forward with a sharp rev of her engine. "Rod 'Torque' Redline!"

Rod reversed a little to clear the space between them, and he was absolutely certain that had he not already been badly damaged, the Nissan would have wrapped him very harshly on the hood for his comment. His dodge, and current damage, were not enough to save him from a dink to his headlights, and he reversed further, finding his hindquarters wedged firmly against the back wall, cornered. He panicked.

A/N: So, there is chapter one! I hope it is... interesting, and believable enough... I'm still struggling with the lay-out of everything on . I'm sorry. Next chappy should come very soon.