Chapter Text
“I’ve been waiting a long time
For this moment to come
I’m destined
For anything at all
Downtown, lights will be shining
On me, like a new diamond
Ring out, under the midnight hour…”
Every racer had a pre-race ritual, and for number 86, it was belting tunes in his noise-proof trailer. There was little else that got him as pumped as singing along with Billie Joe Carmstrong and the other greats, and this song was especially fitting today. It was the last race of the season, the Dinoco 400. This was going to be his race.
“Well no one can touch me now, well,
And I can’t turn my back, it’s
Too late, ready or not at all…”
Chick had come too far to give up. Victory was going to be his tonight one way or another. As his father used to remind him, theirs was not a family of losers. He was going to win tonight. He’d finally get the recognition – and the Piston Cup – he deserved.
Suddenly he was being paged. The trailer’s intercom buzzed with his crew chief’s voice.
“Time to get out there, Chick! Knock ‘em dead!”
Chick bumped his CD player with his wheel to turn it off, then hit the intercom button.
“Oh, I plan to,” he replied with a private grin.
When he rolled out of his trailer, he was greeted by the customary flashing cameras and reporters shoving microphones at his grille. Not as many as he would’ve liked – probably half the amount surrounding that hotshot rookie’s trailer; Chick was the one who should be on the jumbotron! He was going to enjoy making McQueen eat it today – but plenty enough for now. Chick nodded and smiled as necessary, preening just a bit before making his way to the start.
Thanks to his minor wins over the course of the season, Chick was able to start in third. That wasn’t bad, it was a fairly strong start, but the trick would be to hold onto it long enough to turn it into first. He managed it on lap 36, and Chick held his own until having to pit on lap 52. After that, things really started heating up.
On lap 63, he was fighting Lee Revkins for first.
Well I’m so much closer than
I have ever known…
Just a little tap, not enough to hurt Revkins. Just enough to get him out of the way. It was all the leverage Chick needed, and for a few moments at least, he was in first. That was when that damn Weathers passed him. Just you wait, old man.
Weathers was a tough one to pass though. He had a way of consistently blocking Chick’s best efforts that infuriated him to no end. And to make it even worse, up came that stupid rookie. McQueen gave him a look as he tried to pass that made Chick’s coolant boil in all the worst ways. But now wasn’t the time to get distracted. Chick blocked him for as long as he could before McQueen passed him. Oh hell no.
Chick gave him a little tap. Again, not much, just enough to get him to spin out harmlessly. Chick laughed as out of the corner of his eye he saw McQueen have to take up the back. Maybe that would’ve been enough… but Chick wasn’t taking any chances today. Rutherford was coming up fast, and Chick took the opportunity to give him a shove.
“Dinoco’s all mine.”
What ensued was pure chaos. The racers behind Rutherford slammed into him and each other in a massive pileup. Tires went flying, even a racer or two.
“Ha ha! Get through that, McQueen!”
In the aftermath of the wreckage, everyone went to the pits. Chick felt secure in himself for all of two minutes.
“Ha ha, what do you think, boys?” He asked his crew as they were changing out his tires. “Thing of beauty.”
“McQueen made it through!” exclaimed his chief.
“What?!”
“He’s not pitting!”
“C’mon! C’mon! Get me back out there, c’mon!”
It was halfway through the race and he’d gone from second place to twenty-first in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t blame his team, Bruiser and the boys had done their best. That’s just how it goes sometimes. He could make it up, he would make it up, but he wasn’t going to be happy about it by any means.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”
Lap after lap Chick steadily climbed back up. He didn’t even shove anyone else. He could get away with it here and there; spin-outs and crashes were a part of racing, no one would be able to tell it was him if he did it sparingly. But he didn’t dare do it again at this point. No, it was safer now to do it clean, even if it meant shaking with effort at times. It should’ve been illegal to pit a car like him against competitors who were so much more aerodynamic… but Chick had a powerful engine and determination to spare. He could still pull this off. He had to.
On the last lap, he was right on Weathers’ tail, but McQueen had a huge lead. It wasn’t looking good… until suddenly he heard his chief through the radio.
“McQueen’s blown a tire! McQueen’s blown a tire! Go, go, go, go, go!”
A quick glance up at the jumbotron confirmed it, and Chick gunned his engine as hard as he dared. He and Weathers were neck and neck as they closed in on McQueen, who had blown a second tire and was struggling for the finish line.
Dawning of a new era, calling
Don’t let it catch you, falling
Ready or not at all
Oh, so close, enough to taste it
Almost, I can embrace this
Feeling on the tip of my tongue…
This was it. It was close, but this was his win. It had to be. It was the Chick Era now. He vaguely registered McQueen stick out his tongue as he and Weathers zoomed across the finish. Yeah, like that’d work. Chick had this. It was in the bag.
While the officials watched the replay, Chick and the other racers had a moment to relax. And wouldn’t you know it, even now, before anyone knew anything, the rookie was being swarmed by press. Chick refused to let them know how jealous he was, but he would take the opportunity to rib McQueen a bit when he got an opening. The press had retreated a bit, and McQueen’s pitties had driven off after some tiff Chick hadn’t caught nor cared about.
“Hey, Lightning! Yo, McQueen! Seriously, that was some pretty darn nice racing out there… by me! Ahaha! Welcome to the Chick Era, baby,” he shot him a wink. “The Piston Cup? It’s mine, dude, mine. Hey, fellas, how do you think I’d look in Dinoco blue?”
“In your dreams, Thunder,” replied McQueen, rolling his eyes.
“Thunder, what’s he talking about? Thunder?”
“Oh, you know, cuz Thunder always comes after Lightning!”
And the press ate that shit up. Of course they did. But it was time to reveal the winner, and Chick, Weathers, and McQueen all made their way to the back of the announcement stage. He had put on a confident show as always, but the anticipation was secretly killing him.
Then the announcement came. “Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in Piston Cup history…”
McQueen, cocky bastard, revved his engine. “…A rookie has won the Piston Cup.”
He burst out onto stage (“Yes!”) just to hear the rest of the announcement. “…We have a three way tie!”
Cheers and confetti erupted as Chick and Weathers rolled out onto the stage. Chick couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hey, McQueen, that must be really embarrassing, but I wouldn’t worry about it… cuz I didn’t do it! Ahahaha!”
The fanfare continued as the announcement went on. “Piston Cup officials have determined that a tie-breaker race between the three leaders will be held in California in one week.”
“Well thank you, all of you out there!” said Chick, murmuring to McQueen before returning his attention to the fans, “…Hey, rook, first one to California gets Dinoco all to himself… Ah! No, not me, you rock and you know that!”
Fireworks went off. Chick wouldn’t see McQueen again until he was getting ready to leave, rolling around a trailer just to find his least favorite red bastard talking to himself. When McQueen noticed Chick, he stopped abruptly.
“Oh, hey Chick,” said McQueen, seemingly unbothered. “Y’know, a little bug told me you like to sing! Is that true? Hey, tell me if you’ve heard this one yet. Ahem.”
“Have you heard the news that you’re dead?
No one ever had much nice to say, I think they never liked you anyway—”
“Shut the FUCK up!” Chick burned rubber and rammed into McQueen, pinning him against a fence. He held him there, determined to put a dent in his infuriatingly smooth, handsome frame. How dare this bastard use Gerard Waze against him?
“Whoah there, Thunder,” McQueen chuckled. “What are you gonna do, kiss me?”
“You wish, faggot,” Chick spat as he let him go, doing a quick three-point turn and speeding off before McQueen could see how riled that comment actually got him. He was going to smoke him in this tie-breaker, he’d make sure of it.