DreamRevelation

**SATIRE WARNING. ALL CHARACTERS WERE MADE PURELY FOR THIS STORY.** Six o'clock in the morning. Again. Makayla groaned as her alarm clock pulled her out of sleep, annoyed that it had ended an amazing dream - she was in Radiator Springs, talking and laughing with Lightning, her all-time favorite character of Cars. She wished more than anything that Cars could've been real… maybe she could actually be friends with him instead of just fantasizing. Shrugging the thought off as she threw on her school clothes, she trudged down the stairs to grab breakfast before catching the bus to school - she didn't attend just any school, though. It was a

Tony went around the base as he normally did. F-35s filled the barracks nowadays as the Navy built itself stronger on its own; the normally busy base was a tad more organized nowadays thanks to that alone. Not to mention Steve volunteering to take over flight instruction after Tera’s disappearance. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand why Tera had just left like that… but at the same time, he truly didn’t. “Getting used to not flying as much? Or are ya just bored?” he said, rolling over to Steve, who was sitting in the sun to keep an eye on the planes taking off and landing. If the plane was showing a

Tera quietly rolled out of her father's hangar, yawning and trying to look awake. It was around eleven, so everyone else was already up and about. Everyone else also knew that she was the only plane on base that slept in, but it didn't matter to her. She didn't want to look like it. The sun felt nice, though, and it was making her even more sleepy than before. Looking around, she found that there wasn't really anyone… except Tony, who was working on someone in the repair ward. It was a Hellcat she'd seen around occasionally, but never spoken to. It didn't seem like he wanted to be. She didn't care much. Everyone she talked to seemed to

All was quiet on a rather dusty Arizona morning; a dust storm had blown through the Air Force Base just the last night, sneaking in all the cracks on the hangar doors and unsecured windows. This was the beginning of the monsoon season, and the beginning of training a whole new set of recruits, for Jake Wingston anyways. It was about 4 in the morning, he wasn’t sure exactly when, but it was still dark outside. He was used to being up this early on a regular basis. Since his crash in 1979, he’d been assigned to training most of the new planes that came through Luke Air Force Base, sometimes whole squadrons, sometimes only one or two