If Doc was still alive, just imagine how disgusted he’d be of Jackson Storm, he’d hate him. He’d kinda just want him to do the same thing he did to Lightning where he crashes on that one turn at Willy’s Butte and crashed into tons of cactuses.
Summary: Cruz’s next race is being held in Brussels, where it’s been very dangerous lately. McQueen warns her against going, even if he goes with her.
Warnings: anxiety attack, mild fluff
Word count: I’ll prolly forget to put here
A/N: I saw someone come up with the idea about what if Cruz has anxiety? Well here’s Cruz with an anxiety attack. I’m not very good at anxiety attacks because I had one like once, but it was barely an anxiety attack. It was more like a silent freak out, kinda ish. Idk. But this was my attempt.
Lightning sighs. “I’m serious, Cruz, it’s been very dangerous these past four months in Brussels. Lotta crime, lotta death, and I don’t know why they’re even hosting a race in Brussels in the first place.”
“Oh my goddd,” Cruz groans. He had been bugging her since she got the invite to the race yesterday, urging her not to accept. “Mr. McQueen, I’m going.”
“How many times have I told you to call me Lightning?”
Cruz doesn’t reply to that.
“Racing is dangerous, and you never stopped me-in fact, you pushed me into the middle of your race!” Cruz argues.
“But we were in Florida where there hasn’t been that bad of crime since last year!” Lightning argues back.
Cruz makes a short grumbly sound in her mouth. She’s about to say something when Lightning continues on, giving Cruz the urge to yell.
“Remember when they had the last race in Brussels four months ago? Someone came in, bombed it, and eight cars died. I don’t want you getting hurt, or killed, or seeing that stuff,” Lightning adds. “I even had a friend there. He lost all of his tires, and the right side of his frame was barely together.”
Cruz looked at him, now gaining a bit more seriousness for that moment. The noises on tv from her own mentor’s crash filled her head. She couldn’t help it, though, and wonder if that was her. Her bright, sunny yellow gloss shredded off and whatever was left was dull. She wondered if she’d be able to keep her tires, or if she could never drive again because her lower frame was so badly damaged. She wondered if her windshield would be okay…Oh god, if she was blind, if she was blin-