He needed to get out.

All these vibrant colors, yellow like the morning sun, pink like a poppy, orange like the ripest of fruits, gold like the real element, they were the reporters of this room, swarming his eyes, and overloading his senses. It was puzzling; this wasn't the same room as he had stayed in the last time he was in Germany.

He remembered it vividly; the room had been a dull gray, posters of war plastered against the bare wall, and a thin mat in the corner, stacked with few cans of oil. Only the bare minimums had been presented to him earlier that year; a radio unit, heat lamp, and cans of oil. That's it; no more. The room had had a musky wet scent, little supplies in the meaning of light, and overall had the feel of a medieval dungeon.  Dusty remembered hating it the second he rolled in, but his mindset had been too exhausted to complain. After all, Franz's annoyingly catchy song had been repeating his head like a broken record nonstop.

This room was completely unrecognizable. The first sign was a large paper divider, much like the one left in Iceland, this one a peachy orange, cutting the size of the room significantly. This was the first thing that irked him; the decreased room. Roper had told him that his hangar mate had been disqualified. So, why was the room split in two? Granted, Roper had also told him that in Iceland, that would be a one-time thing. Dusty didn't understand; how was a racer being disqualified a one-time thing? It made no sense in his mind. Still, he dismissed the thought.

The second thing that annoyed him was the abundance of colors, oh, so many colors, in the room. He couldn't look anywhere without being blasted with an explosion of sunset-like hues. His eyes couldn't catch a break. ANYWHERE. He couldn't even focus on anything else in the room. Blinking rapidly, he quickly taxied out of the room, groaning quietly. The outside was strange; it wasn't quite dark yet; the sun still peeked the majority of its body over the towering mountains, but it wasn't daytime either. The sky was a gray-blue, stars not yet visible but clouds unable to be seen as well. It was twilight. The transitioning period between day and night, a time of day where the world was still deciding whether it still wanted light to rain down on those who lived on it. The mountains were black silhouettes in the distance, boasting their majestic beauty in a figure of black. Sliding the door shut, Dusty peeked over to the other one, awaiting him only feet away, the entrance to the other side of the room. No paper was plastered on the outside, no name was visible. Nothing signaled to him that someone was staying in there. The door was cracked open, and through the inch of visibility, the same vibrant colors that had so welcomed him in the other room peeked through.

"This feels weird."  Moving his gaze away, his eyes then fell on the landscape. The racer's hangars were posted on a mountain, overlooking a quaint town below, along with supply hangars and the main meeting room. A rocky cliff awaited him, and he rolled up to the very edge, so pebbles plummetted down its grassy face. The valley truly was beautiful; a small village was nestled in its hold, dim lights flickering like stars down below. Faint lively music drifted up from the bar, followed by small cheers and whoops. He knew El Chu and the rest of the racers were down there; they had invited him but he had politely refused. His eyes scanned the horizon. A small figure slicing across the sky diverted his attention. His eyes fell upon the figure. Their small frame seemed so familiar and was it not for their wings, he surely would have confused it for one he knew before.

But the wings. They weren't angled backwards as the others had been; these jetted nearly straight out, only bending backwards at the smallest angle possible near the end.

All of the other features were uncanny.

He watched as the plane flew over him, their landing gear lowering as they lined themselves up with the runway. As they disappeared behind some trees, Dusty's mind made a split-minute decision, and he started towards the tarmac.

An owl hooted. Cheers exploded from down below. Dusty didn't hear them.

As he rounded the corner onto the smooth pavement, his eyes widened. Nothing, not a single plane. It was empty.

Dusty glanced around. He was certain this was where he saw them land. He had to be.

"Um...h-hello?" He stuttered nervously. There was something about this atmosphere, it was creepy, sent chills up his frame. Only an owl answered his call. His eyes jerked upwards, to look at the bird, perched atop a rooftop. It peered down at the orange racer, head cocked to the side and eyes peering on curiously.

"Not you." He shot.

"Hoo."

"You don't need to know who, it just wasn't you."

"Hoo."

"I already answered that. Not you."

"Hoo."

"That's kinda creepy, you know that?"

"Hoo."

"I've suddenly lost interest in this conversation."

"H-hello?"

"STO-" Dusty cut himself off. That wasn't the owl. No, that voice was faint, soft, female. His eyes scanned his surroundings again. Where had it come from? He searched among the growing shadows. Nothing was visible but the growing darkness.

"Is anyone there?" There it was again. This time, Dusty got a good idea of where it had come from. The voice left a sort of melodic train, an echo of some sort, guiding him towards a dark narrow alleyway between two hangars that sat right at the edge of the cliff. Water dripped. Sounds echoed. It had a sort of eerie atmosphere, heavy and hard. He peered down the dark alleyway. Other than some crates, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, he sworn he had heard something. At the end of the alleyway, there was only a few feet before the cliff dropped off. He took a deep breath. This could be a very stupid idea. he began inching down the alleyway.

"H-hello?" With hearing the voice again, his velocity increased. The sweet melodic sound compelled him; it was strange, alluring, beckoning. He reached the edge of the dark alleyway, and peered around.

Nothing. There was nothing back there but a good patch of patch over looking the valley down below. He saw no car, no plane, no one who could have produced the voice.

"Maybe I made it up; I must be more tired than I thought." His eyes wandered towards the village down below, from which more cheering and giddy music emanated. He could imagine it now; all his fellow racing fans dancing about and cheering at the live polka band in the corner, playing a giddy tune while Franz most likely sang, or freaked them out with his strange party trick. There would be beer, and lots of it. This was Germany, after all.

"Um...h-hello?" His attention was cut in two, and he whirled around quickly, peering into the darkness of the shadows. He didn't see anything in the pure darkness; the more he squinted his eyes, however, the more things cleared up.

And he could see a figure, slinking deeper in.

"O-oh, gosh!" He wheeled backwards suddenly.

"Watch out!!" He had no time to regard the warning before his back wheel rolled off the rocky edge. His confused expression melted away in a flash as he felt the ground beneath the rubber of his wheel disappear, left with nothing but the wind and air of the valley below. His mouth fell open to yell, but  was cut off by a sudden descent in height. His gut dropped. A scream built up in his mouth. His propeller began to spin rapidly.

The cliff before him began to grow smaller as he plummeted, the wind slicing through his wings rushing upwards past him. The security of the earth leaving from beneath his wheels.

Everything stopped. His eyes flew open. He had paused in the air, just....there.

No, there was something. Something was wrapped around his propeller; A rope. A rope, wrapped around his propeller, held in place by a hook, leading up and over the edge.

"Hold on!!" The voice cried out, confidence now laced in its tone. Dusty panted, still terrified at the thought of falling as the rope began pulling his upwards. Strained groaning and grunts came from up above. When his front wheels landed on the ground above, it was like the weight on his wings had been cut in half. they immediately began spinning, trying to aid in the effort. With them, his propeller began to spin as well.

A pained yell escaped the hidden figure as his prop rubbed against the rope, the friction turning it red. The cry pained him, and he stopped immediately, resulting him to drop slightly.

"No...don't stop!!" The voice panted. Startled, he restarted it with a start. He was pulled up once more. His eyes focused intently on the rope as pulled him. It came from the shadows. His wheels pawed at the earth. He was mostly up, only his back wheel lingered over the edge. Both voices groaned with exhaustion, as he fought to pull himself up.

Finally, his wheel was pulled over the cliff edge and onto the ground. Panting, Dusty sighed in relief, as the rope was retracted from around his prop, and retracted back into the darkness. An exhausted whimper came from where it disappeared to and Dusty was reminded that someone else was there.

"Thank you...so much...." He said between pants, as he peered into the shadow. He could just barely see a figure, laying against the crook where the ground met the back of the warehouse. "Why don't you come out? I can barely see you." A faint gasp was heard.

"I-I...a-are you sure...I mean....ok." Reluctance coated the voice, and slowly, the plane wheeled out into the light.

As she appeared, Dusty's heart stopped.

The white pain job, scratched and torn, the blue and purple accents swirling from the top of her nose to the antennae. The eyes with an impossibly vivid blend of purple and blue. A small shape, smaller than him.

The rookie.

Dusty froze.

"Oh my manufacturer...." He breathed silently. She peered up at him, then slunk back into the darkness.

"Oh my, I shouldn't have come out, I'm sorry." She rambled, blabbering about how she was an idiot. Dusty was snapped out of his trance.

"Oh, no no, please, come back. It's just...you're alive..." He rolled forward as her nose and eyes appeared into the light.

"I-I mean, yeah, I think I am."

"But...h-how....you were lost...your propeller....huh..." Dusty tried to wrap his head around it all, but quite frankly could reach all the way around. It was so hard for him to take it all in; this had been a plane with propeller problems, lost in the middle of an Icelandic blizzard, for who knows how long. And now, she was here, speaking to him. It was too much for his plane brain to comprehend.

"Oh....yeah, the storm. That was a pain in the prop." She paused when she saw Dusty's face, frozen in time, drawn into a shocked expression, eyes wide and mouth gaping. "Um....are you ok?"

"No, no no no you're not alive...t-this isn't real." He stuttered, shaking slightly. Her gleeful experssion fell down, melting into a shocked hurt expression. Her mouth opened, as if she was going to say something, but then it snapped closed.

Well, by the tone of your voice, it seems like you don't want me to be alive, so I'll go kill myself. Good day." She snapped, growing annoyed. Her suddenly raised tone snapped Dusty awake.

Wait...don't go. No no no, you're dead. You have to be dead." His mouth was running as if it had a mind of his own; he held no control over the jabbering.

"Well, I'm obviously not."

"Wait wait wait...are you a ghost?"

"Hmm...let me think about it...no."

"Y-you're alive...." His voice cracked, trailing off. He was staring, but he didn't notice.

"I believe we've established that."

"B-but you look...different." He squinted at her small frame; he couldn't place it. But she knew there was SOMETHING that had changed; his mind refused to let him believe otherwise. Then, he saw it. "Your wings."

"Huh? What about them?" She glared at him.

"They're straight...er....straighter." He glanced at her wings; they weren't completely straight, but they were bent back at such a small angle, they could have been mistakable as so. Her bent wings were something that was so recognizable about her, something that defined her. She looked to the side, then suddenly perked up.

"Oh, dear, I forgot to take them off of racing mode." She laughed sheepishly, and sighed. "I'll do that now." What happened next startled him. About a little under midway down her wings, they began to tilt back further, a low whirring coming out. They bent until they matched her previous angle. Dusty stared. He had seen many many strange planes in his lifetime. But, never before had he seen expandable wings like this. It surprised him, as well as interested him. He had no idea she had had these, but it made sense, now that he thought about it. That explained why she had been able to fit in the alternate obstacle course. That's why she had come in first.

"That's...cool." He said with awe.

"O-oh...they're new..." She blushed, embarrassed.

"What?" Dusty narrowed his eyes. "How? Weren't you made like that?"

"Well...I-It's a long story." A cheer drifted up from the party down below, and both eyes drifted down to the bustling bar, which was now flashing with different colored lights. "B-but I guess it's a long night as well..."

"Wait wait wait...." Dusty wheeled rapidly next to her, away from the rocky edge. "Ok, go."

The plane giggled, then froze. Her eyes widened, then fell. Dusty could tell that her mind was going over the story, and it wasn't exactly the happiest tale. But before he could stop her, she began.

"I...." She trailed off, before taking another breath. "I was completely blind until last year."

This caught Dusty off guard. Out of all the scenarios that had run through his head, this was not what he had expected at all. "What..."

"When I was created, my eyes were welded shut in a freak accident during manufacturing. My parents had tried every doctor, every repair shop in the nation, but they had all said that it was too dangerous to force them open in fear that it would harm my eyes."

"But...what does this have to do with the wings?"

"Don't interrupt!" She snapped. "As I was saying, I went my entire life blind. That is, until last year, when I was selected into the EPEG."

"The Electric Plane Experimental Group."

"You know about it?"

"Yeah, I heard about that, it was all over the news. Only 7 planes were selected."

"And I was one of them. I-I don't remember much, but the next thing I knew, I was surrounded by a world of light and color and it was beautiful. Never before had I seen anything, such beauty, such....life." Tears welled at her eyes. "That wasn't the only thing they added." Her voice cracked as she signaled over to her wings and newly-polished propeller. "They're really convenient in tight spaces."

"Wow....so you're electric?"

"Not fully, part electric, part fuel." She smiled. "They wouldn't have let a fully electric plane into the race."

"That's incredible!! I mean, that's so cool." Dusty was practically beaming; this was just like meeting a celebrity to him. "And the fact that you're racing now. I mean, when you were blind, you were grounded, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess you could say I'm a flying novice. It's really funny, I didn't even mean to audition for this whole racing thing; I was clueless and it was all accidental."

"How did you 'accidentally' try out?" Dusty tried to comprehend how that could even happen but he couldn't.

"Well....when I got my vision back, I was still a really weak flyer, and back then, I didn't even know that my wings could extend. Since I couldn't go racing with the other planes, as you can guess, I was lonely. So, I picked up aerial entertainment, doing tricks, flips, stuff that didn't involve high velocity. I thought it was going to strengthen my flying skills. My first performance, I was assigned to perform at some try out, and at the time, I was still very new and VERY lost. Apparently, I had accidentally wandered onto the runway, and before I knew it, I was being forced to race.

"Wait...how did they have your name?"

"I...gave it to a pittie thinking they were asking because I was a performer. I didn't know they were signing me up." She paused as she caught a glimpse of the incredulous look Dusty was giving her. It was that kind of look you gave someone when they admitted to doing something so incredibly stupid that it seemed unbelievable they did that. She laughed as he narrowed one eye and raised the other. "Shut up, how was I supposed to know? Anyways, as you can guess, the second I got in the air, I began to suck immensely, and EVERYONE was laughing. I don't know what it was about those laughs that struck me, but suddenly, my wings popped out and I was zooming through the pylons, flipping left and right uncontrollably. I legitimately thought I was going to crash.

"But you didn't..." Dusty pressed on.

"Obviously not. The next thing I knew, cars and planes were screaming my name, the announcer was jabbering on something about a 'new record' or something, and I was being whisked away in a crowd."

"Huh....that's kinda cool, if you think about it." Dusty smiled goofily, genuinely impressed by her story. "And now you're here."

"Yep, I guess it is." She giggled, then glanced out over him. "The sky is beautiful, isn't it?"

Dusty's eyes wandered out, met immediately by an explosion of warm colors mixed with the blue and purple of the night sky. Pink fluffed clouds drifted aimlessly, reflecting the color throughout the world.

"Huh. It really is." Dusty marveled at the sight; he didn't see these types of sunsets back at Propwash. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed these races; seeing the foreign sights always impressed him and filled him with wonder and warmth.

They stood there, marveling at the sight, when the plane yawned. "Well...its been an exhausting day, I should really get back to my hangar."

"No, wait!! You still haven't told me what happened in Iceland!!"

"Oh, that? Meh, got lost in a blizzard, found frozen in the snow by some cars, taken in and nurtured back to health, returned to the airport to see everyone taking off, followed them, yatty yatta." Dusty stared. She had dismissed the entire situation like it had been nothing. Her courage honestly impressed him.

"Uh....." His mouth fell agape. "Ok, wow. Props to you."

"He he yeah. Hey, can you help me with something?"

"Uh...sure. What do you need?"

"I can't seem to find my hangar; I've caught wind that we all have hangar mates this race, but I haven't a clue who mine is."

"Huh...thats funny; I haven't seen my hangar mate at all. Apparently, my old one was didn't show up to the race, so they're giving me a new one." The plane laughed.

"Hey, hangar-mate problems are a struggle." She joked, and Dusty cracked a chuckle.

"Hehe, yeah. Sure, I'll help you find your hangar...um...." He rolled forward, just realizing he didn't actually know what to call her.

"Oh, oopsy. Haven't exactly told you my name huh?"

"Nope, you haven't."

"Heh...it's Gwenelle." Dusty froze. That name....why did it sound so familiar? His memory files raced, scanning every hallway of his archives, searching for that name. Gwenelle....Gwenelle...

His eyes flashed. His mind was taken back. Back to the howling wind and numbing snow of Iceland. His vision met the cool gray of his hanger. They spotted the flapping paper, taped to his hangar.

They met with the bold letters that spelt '-ell'.

And he was back.

"It's you!!" He yelled suddenly, causing Gwenelle to jump. "You're my hangar mate!!'

"Wait...huh? How do you know for sure?"

"I saw your name taped in Iceland!!" He bounced excitedly. "You're my hangar mate!!"

"Well....thats convenient." She flashed him a smile. "This is going to be fun, huh?"

Dusty tapped her wing with his own, gesturing towards the alleyway that led out. "Come on; I need to take you to your room...our room!!" He flashed her a goofy smile.

"Um...ok!" She returned the smile, and followed behind.