Summary: An alternative sequel to the World Race movie that I started before I knew about theAcceleRacers series. Hope you find it interesting, and feel free to review!

Disclaimer: I don't own of the Hot Wheels, Mattel, etc. stuff that I'm writing about here.

Author's Note: Obviously, this doesn't fit in with the events of the AcceleRacers series since I wrote it before I saw any of them. Please don't be too upset with me! The prologue is a bit sad, but things do improve, so don't get too depressed. Hope you enjoy!

Prologue

Professional driver Kurt Wylde paused briefly to draw a deep breath of refreshing spring air before turning toward the night club where two of his best friends awaited him. He didn't know how late they would be out that night, but in his mind, it didn't matter. He had placed second in a race the day before, and there was nothing important on his schedule for several days.

He had just entered the club and spotted his friends when his cell phone rang. Irritated, he fished the devise out of his pocket and was tempted to simply turn it off. But, somehow unable to ignore the feeling that it might be important, Kurt motioned for his friends to wait for him and stepped aside to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Kurt? It's Markie."

Markie – not exactly someone he was anxious to talk to; but, hey, it was his little brother.

"Hey, Markie, what's up?" Kurt couldn't help smiling to himself. Normally when they spoke, his younger sibling would identify himself simply as "Mark." But he rarely, if ever, protested when Kurt reverted to the old habit of calling him "Markie." And it was now a subtle yet amusing change for his brother to willingly call himself "Markie" right from the start.

"Listen," Markie continued, "I really need to talk to you. Something's happened."

"What?" Kurt was no longer smiling, for there was no mistaking the pain and dread in his brother's voice. "Markie, what's wrong?" he asked again.

"Kurt, Mom and Dad were in a car accident, a really bad one. They…" Markie's voice faltered and trailed off.

Kurt froze, a grip of cold fear wrenching his stomach.

"Markie," he began slowly, "are they all right?" His voice sounded hollow and strange, even to himself.

There was no answer, but Kurt no longer needed one. The unmistakable sound of his brother crying on the other end was all he needed to hear. Nevertheless, he kept pressing.

"Markie, tell me, what happened?" He tried to keep his voice low, but he could feel his own panic rising rapidly. He briskly stepped back outside into the night, friends forgotten. And Kurt Wylde could only listen in agonizing silence as his brother finally spoke.

"Oh, Kurt," Markie at last managed to say through his tears. "Kurt, Dad was killed on impact…and Mom's in the hospital right now. They're not sure if she's gonna make it."

Kurt stood still in stunned silence, struck dumb with sudden grief. His chest tightened, stifling his breath.

"Kurt?"

At that, Kurt found his voice.

"Markie, are you at the hospital?" he asked.

"Yeah. The one closest to our house."

"I'm on my way right now," Kurt told him as he hurried toward his car. "I'll be there as soon as I can, probably a couple hours. Just hold on until I get there, all right?"

"Okay." Markie sounded too overwhelmed and confused to say otherwise.

"Good." Kurt didn't really feel much different than his brother, but he knew that he had to get home. "I'll be there soon. Hang in there, Markie. I'm on my way." Kurt hung up the phone, jumped into his car, and sped off down the road.

The drive from New York City to the Boston suburbs usually took about three hours to complete. Kurt made it in less than two. He arrived at the hospital and strode quickly up to one of the front desks to try to locate Markie. He glanced down at his watch. Almost two in the morning, he thought to himself. No wonder this place is so empty.

"Hello, Mr. Wylde," the young woman behind the front desk greeted him before he could say a word. "You'll find your brother in the waiting room nearest to the Intensive Care Unit." She pointed a finger down one of the main hallways. "You two really look alike," she explained when Kurt remained silent.

"Thanks," Kurt said with a slight nod as he hurried off in the indicated direction. When he finally reached the waiting room, he found Markie talking alone with an elderly nurse. Both looked up when he entered, and Markie immediately ran up and hugged him. Kurt returned the embrace, but neither of them spoke.

After a moment, Kurt looked over his brother's head at the nurse who had remained in the room. His eyes asked the question he couldn't bear to put into words, but in his heart, he already knew the answer. And the nurse, tears brimming in her own eyes, confirmed his premonitions with a slow, deliberate shake of her head. Their mother had now passed, as well. The nurse then silently withdrew from the room, leaving them alone.

Kurt's mind was racing. No! it screamed to him. Mom and Dad are fine! They're just…

But he couldn't even convince himself of his own lie. He knew the truth, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do to change it. Grief and helplessness overtook him at last, and tears he had previously held back now flowed silently down his cheeks.

Markie, on the other hand, was sobbing uncontrollably into his brother's shoulder, oblivious to the world around him. Kurt sighed slowly and rested a hand on the back of his brother's head.

"Markie…" he began, but his voice failed him. No words could have been a comfort for Markie now. He just needed to know that he wasn't alone. The two of them stood locked in long an embrace, all sense of time having vanished long ago.

"Boys?"

Kurt and Markie both started at the sudden interruption, and they turned to see a white-haired doctor standing beside them.

"I'm sorry, boys, but it's late, and there's nothing more you can do here," the doctor continued. "Why don't you go home."

Kurt nodded. "You're right," he quietly conceded. "Let's go, Markie." He gave his brother's shoulder one last reassuring squeeze, and they left the hospital.

The ride over to the Wylde home was not a long one, but it was silent. Kurt slowly pulled his sporty Sling Shot race car up next to Markie's sleek Corvette Stingray convertible. Both cars had been taken home as souvenirs from the exhilarating World Race just nine months before.

Wordlessly, the brothers entered the house and prepared for a night of restless sleep, if any at all. Kurt's old room had been converted into a guest bedroom several years ago, but it made little difference to him now. He stopped briefly by Markie's room to say good-night, but it was empty.

Yet, as he continued further down the hall, Kurt was startled by a muffled sound coming from his parents' bedroom. He quietly opened the door, and in the faint light from the hallway, he saw Markie stretched out on the bed, crying softly into his mother's pillow.

"Markie?" Kurt called softly, his own tears threatening again. He went forward and lay down on the bed beside his brother. But Markie's only response was more tears.

Kurt sighed desperately. "Come on, Markie, talk to me. You haven't said a word since I got here. Please say something – anything!" He reached out and began to gently massage his brother's tense neck and shoulders, which soon became visibly more relaxed.

"Oh, Kurt," Markie sobbed at last. "Kurt, what are we gonna do?" His voice was layered with grief, helplessness, and fear.

"We'll be all right, Markie," Kurt assured him. "Just give it some time. It'll be okay."

"But what are we going to do now?" Markie asked again.

Kurt thought for a moment. "Well," he finally went on, "I guess you can come to New York and stay with me for a few years. You may not exactly like the idea, but it won't kill you."

"But is it really necessary? You know, I've still got most of that five million dollars left from the World Race. At least I wouldn't have to worry about money."

Kurt shook his head. "There's more than money to worry about here. You're only seventeen, you're too young to be living on your own. You may have plenty of money, but I'm not sure you're ready to properly handle it all by yourself. Besides, even five million dollars won't last for the rest of your life."

"I know," Markie sighed. "You're right."

"Good. I'm glad you're at least being sensible about all this."

Markie finally rolled over to face his brother. "Yeah." He bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling, but his tears returned with fresh intensity all the same. "But I still miss them so much!"

"I know," Kurt replied sadly. "I do, too." He laid an arm across Markie's shivering shoulders, and in the silence that followed, the brothers finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.