As mentioned earlier, this is my first multi-chapter Fanfic. Took me bloody ages to try and figure out how to divide it into chapters. Anyway, i ophe you enjoy it and have a nice day. Z.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the original BMFM cartoon and/or franchise, because in no way, shape or form could I come up with such an unreal idea for a TV show. I do own Spectre and Oblivion though, so if you would like to use them, please email me first.

Feral Rage

Chapter 1.

Red lights flashed and klaxons screamed warning at whoever was piloting that spaceship that impact was inevitable. A womans computerised voice came over a loudspeaker.

"Attention! Impact in less than-"

A single shot from a Martian-issue laser pistol silenced the voice, and while he had it out, the only being inside the ship blasted the blaring klaxons off the wall, leaving only the red lights to insult his senses.

Holstering the weapon, he shook his head trying to get the ringing out of his ears, or what was left of his ears anyway.

The spaceship thundered through the sky, glowing red against the darkness of night as the intense heat of entering Earth's atmosphere began to rise. If this was an Earth craft, the angle he was traveling on would be at such a high gravitational force that the ship would crumple and disintegrate, and the heat would take care of the rest. However, the Plutarkian steel shuttle managed to hold up to both of these issues of a crudely calculated planet entry.

Bursting through the clouds, the underskilled pilot saw that he was dangerously close to crashing into a large area that was populated by thousands of lights.

No.

He was going to crash into it.

The pilots wild orange eyes frantically searched for any kind of labeled button that would try and steer clear of the light. Finally, they came to rest upon one that offered a glimmer of hope

RETROGRADE THRUSTERS

Shrugging, he pushed the button and felt like the ship lifted a little, as if being caught in an updraft. The retro thrusters boosted the ships altitude a little, keeping it steady, but it was still hurtling towards the city. The pilot then ran to the steering vein and pulled hard, trying to get the nose of the spaceship up.

It was going to be close.

*

It was a night game of baseball, and the stands were packed at Quigley field. Fans cheered as the next batsman come out. Bases were loaded with two out.

The Biker Mice and Charley were sitting in their usual posse in the scoreboard, scoffing root beer and hot dogs and enjoying the best view of the game. Charley wore a Nubs cap in support of their home team, and all were yelling support from where they were standing. The burly batsman took his place at the plate and waited for the delivery.

The pitcher threw.

The batsman connected.

The ball got sent flying into the sky, right towards the scoreboard. The mice's eyes widened in sheer excitement as the first opportunity to catch a home run ball presented itself.

"I got it!" called Throttle.

"I saw it first!" yelled Modo.

"It's mine!" shrieked Vinnie, easily the most excited.

The three mice shoved and pushed among themselves, trying to get to the ball. The ball got closer, and the guys all reached out at the same time to claim it as theirs, when a flash of brown hair blocked the sight of the ball. The mice fell silent, and could only watch as Charley took a diving catch right in front of them.

"Charley-girl! That was mine," said Throttle, his deep voice sounding slightly gruff. Modo looked a little bit sad as well.

Vinnie looked quite sly. "So, Charley-girl, you got the ball?"

"Yeah..." Charley said.

'I always knew you were a good catch for me, doll," the white mouse said charmingly, waggling his eyebrows.

Charley rolled her eyes at him, before turning to try and hide her blushing face.

"Uh oh, bros," said Throttle.

"What's the matter?" asked Modo.

"That," the tan colored mouse replied, pointing out the window.

All of them looked out the window to see a fiery comet come rushing at their general direction.

A spaceship.

"Well if past performance is any indication..." said Vinnie.

"That ship's last stop ever is gonna be here," Modo said.

"Let's bail, bros!" called Throttle, and they leapt onto their bikes, with Charley taking her usual spot behind Vinnie.

"Let's rock!"yelled Throttle.

"And ride!"

The three bikes blasted out the back of the scoreboard and rode out into the carpark to watch another episode of a spacecraft crashing into their home.

The thundering boom became deafeningly loud, announcing its approach. The crowd in Quigley stadium began to go into panic as they saw the rocket on a direct collision course with them.

The ship began to tilt upwards slightly, and just when everyone thought the scoreboard was going to be wiped from the face of the earth, it clipped the top of the structure and skipped like a stone on a river surface back into the air, enough to fly over the remaining residential blocks that made up Chicago.

The guys and Charley saw the whole thing.

"Well, that's a first." said Modo, who expected to be sleeping on the floor of Charley's lounge while the entire scoreboard got rebuilt from scratch.

"Awesome!" whooped Vinnie, but then recognised exactly what it was.

"Did you guys see what that was?" asked Throttle, who managed to catch a glimpse of it.

"Yeah..." said Vinnie, cracking his knuckles.

"Wait, I didn't see," chimed Charley. "What was it?"

"It was a Plutarkian shuttle," said Throttle, his voice deep with concern. "And when they arrive somewhere..."

"You know it's gonna be a pretty fishy situation," added Vinnie.

Charley hugged her arms tighter around Vinnie's waist. "Let's rock..."

The guys looked at each other in confusion, then turned to Charley.

"And...Hey, why are you guys looking at me like that?" she asked.

"Babe, this is reaaaally stupid muscley macho maniac stuff. We can't have you come with us," Vinnie stated, trying unsuccessfully to avoid being hit across the head.

"That's right Charley-girl, you might get hurt," offered Throttle.

Still no dice.

So, after thirty seconds of arguing and Charley being forcibly removed from Vinnie's bike, the guys quickly rode off after the ship.

*

Getting over the stadium was only one of three problems. The second issue involved directing it to a place where it wouldn't hurt any people. He looked out the front window and saw that with the retro thrusters burning, coupled with the skim of the ship on the scoreboard, it had given him enough air to miss the rest of the civilian housing.

There was the third problem; how to get out of the ship alive.

He pondered this for a little bit. Why did he even want to survive? His entire life had been robbed from him long ago. His identity stolen, his family gone, no friends. No cause to fight for. Hell, he wasn't even on his home planet – he'd crashed on some foreign spherical thing that looked kind of blue from outer space. And if there were inhabitants here, they would be the same anywhere – shunning anything or anyone who didn't look the same as them.

He was ripped from his thoughts when a shrieking, metallic groan sounded from the ship. If one saw from the outside, they would see the tailfin wobbling from side to side, effectively weakened following the incident with the scoreboard. Then, the outer hull of the ship began to rip apart from the intense pressure, resulting in the tailfin being torn from the main body of the ship and falling into a river. And then, the ship lost cabin pressure, and started spiralling out of control, losing altitude fast.

Suddenly, his mind turned hazy, and then he blacked out, like every other time in a high-stress situation. He ran towards the back of the shuttle, through the corridor to where the tailfin used to be and vaulted out into the summer air. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, and was greeted by a thunderous roar of a motorcycle engine from inside the ship. Then, a headlight flashed and the motorbike flew out of the cargo hold, fire spewing from its exhaust pipes.

The Oblivion. Or Obie for short.

He grabbed the handlebars and parked himself in the saddle, before hitting the ground hard on the bike but staying upright, and slowly coming to a stop. He watched as the Plutarkian hulk plummeted down into Lake Michigan, thumping the water hard and slowly sinking into the depths.

He grabbed the helmet in the luggage container, sat it atop his head and rode off.