HARDSHIPS
Disclaimer: I do not own Rick Ungar's Biker Mice series, or any of the characters.
Summary: Charlene (Charlie) Davidson, owner of 'The Last Change' Carage mechanic, finds herself targeted because of the land she owns. The poor, unsuspecting woman finds herself to be an intergalactic marketing object that's been sold to someone she never expected to meet again, or want to meet again face to face.
PROLOGUE
...
Charlene Davidson screamed as she helplessly spun around like a tarp in nothing but blinding whiteness.
The legs pressing vice-like against the sides of her dark purple motorcycle were beginning to bruise under her black leather pants.
But as quickly as she had been pulled into the spinning whiteness, she was suddenly thrust out of it.
The garage mechanic grunted out in pain as she was pitched onto the ground, hard. The ground, which she very soon found out to be as uneven as it could get. She uttered a startled gasp as moments later her bike was tipped over sideways over the edge.
Charley instantly let go of the motorcycle and pushed away from it slightly to avoid getting crushed by her own machinery.
She rolled down the steep hill, all the while hearing her bike ''clunking'' against large or small pieces of stone.
When she finally rolled to a stop at the bottom of the rocky hill, she was in a world of hurt and coughing out the red dirt that she had accidentally gotten into her mouth. She grimaced in pain as she tried to take in a deep breath. Her whole body felt bruised and achy.
Her head still spun too violently for her to even attempt to get up and so she just lay there in a battered heap, carefully checking that her limbs were all in working order. They were, but every movement hurt.
When her equilibrium finally settled, Charley opened her green eyes and raised her head up to check out her new surroundings. What was revealed before her, shocked the mechanic to the core.
There was red sand and rocks all around. Volcanoes were either staying dormant or spouting out smoke and molten lava. Small whirlwinds were flying over the desert landscape that seemed to go on for miles on all sides.
And that was a likely truth.
These were surroundings that Charley had only seen once in her life until now. When she'd been captured in Limburger's Tower and taken to Mars by said alien's goons, Greasepit and Garbunkle. The two goons had been on a quest to save their boss from the hands of the Martians bent on putting him in front of the judge for his crimes.
But it hadn't been a spaceship that they'd used. The skinny, balding Garbunkle and the big, but stupid oil leaking brute, Greasepit, had taken her through one of the crazy inventions made by the demented scientist.
''Won't I ever get the change to ride a spaceship like any normal human astronaut?!'' Charley whispered to herself with frustration and sarcasm lacing her words.
Her vibrant green eyes took in the scenery of red sand and rock; the hills and the volcanoes.
She was really back on Mars!
Of all places that the horrible business-man could have transported her to, he'd decided on the one planet that actually had locals that knew the female garage mechanic!
Gritting her teeth in pain, Charlene gripped a handful of the very vibrant red sand in her fist and pushed herself to her knees. She then turned to face the direction she was sure her bike had fallen, groaning when she found the battered looking bike lying on it's side.
'' Well, great! I only hope that rough landing didn't inflict damage that I can't fix in a hurry. And that harsh tumble down this blasted hill, damn it!'' Charley grumped as she got to her feet and stumbled over to the purple bike lying on it's side.
She needed to get out of the open as soon as it was logically possible and figure out where she could find her friends. Or any Martian willing to help her in this unexpected crisis she'd ''landed'' herself in.
But as she put her hands on the motorcycle's handlebars, her ears picked up the sound of quick, almost silent footsteps approaching her from somewhere outside her line of vision. Her ears twitched slightly as she swiped her gun out of it's holster.
Spinning around, the human pointed the weapon at the approaching person.
But whoever it was that had sneaked up on her, he or she was certainly much quicker than her.
Charley uttered a surprised shriek as the thing pounced at her in a flash; it's big, strong, rough furry hands taking her weapon-arm in an unrelenting grip.
She squirmed frantically in the vice-like grip and tried to kick herself free, but the huge grey rodent with a long snout only laughed sadistically before smacking her on the side of the head.
''Ungh!'' Charlene gasped at the new pain. Stars danced in front of her vision, and that was when a smelly sack was thrown right over her head. Ropes were tied on her wrists and her arms were yanked all the way back.
So roughly that the young woman uttered a shrill shriek.
Her capturer only laughed more as the woman voiced out how she felt about the rough handling.
Charley felt tears of pain, anger and frustration stinging in the corners of her eyes. She had tried so hard to protect her beloved garage from the man bent on putting it flat on the ground. She had built her own special motorcycle from scratch once more with new improvements to its weaponry and design.
But even that hadn't done any good for her.
She had no back-up. No one to team up with her anymore.
And she had lost any sort of protection she might have had on earth when her Biker bro's had left to return to their home planet ten years ago. Well, not that she had needed protection at the time they'd left. She'd lived a pretty normal life for the next nine years until the Business Man Ronaldo Rump had begun to take over the streets of Chicago the very same way Laurence Limburger done when he'd still ruled over Chicago.
And now she was in an entirely different sort of dangerous situation somewhere that wasn't her home turf .
Charley let the tears fall from her eyes. No one would see her shedding them.
Not Ronaldo Rump who had condemned her beloved '' Last Change'' Garage.
Or the vermin that had captured her.
…...
Meanwhile, thousands of miles from the red planet in the windy city of Chicago a madly grinning business man wearing an expensive suit over his oversized rump, watched as the small building that had once stood on the streets he now owned go up in a huge explosion of dynamite.
Ronaldo Rump scratched his beardless chin in pleasure as the smoke and debry settled around the destruction site.
He had warned that annoying woman not once, not twice but three times to give him the property she had owned, but that little bitch hadn't listened to him. She had even built a surprisingly well-designed motorcycle with hidden weapons to fend off the people that worked for him if anyone so much as dared to try and enter her home with a signatured check.
But now, finally, the mechanic Charlene Davidson and the ''Last Change Garage'' had reached the end of their luck. The earthling and the thrice be damned bike were no longer there to annoy him or give him trouble in the business.
'' And hopefully, '' Ronaldo thought sadistically and laughed long and hard,'' she will find herself in very unwelcome hands soon enough. It sure pays off to do some business with the Sand-Raiders of Mars. Oh, Ronaldo, you sure are the greatest business-man on this planet.''
…...
Out in the sand-dunes of the red planet the bruised, miserable woman wearing black, ripped leather pants and jacket trudged on with her legs dragging from exhaustion and defeat. She kept wincing at the occasional prodding from the electric batton used by the vermin that had captured her.
Charley had no idea of the hardships that she would have to go through while in captivity, but she vowed to herself that whatever was going to be thrown her way, she wasn't about to be broken so easily.
The mechanic clenched her teeth under the sack tied around her head.
She would find herself a way out somehow. And the first thing she would do once she'd have her freedom was to search for her Martian friends and kick a certain Vincent Van Wham hard in the tail-bone for not making any effort to contact with her for the past year. And as far as she was concerned, Throttle and Modo weren't off the hook either.
Not one of the three goofballs, who's friendship she'd treasured for ages, had contacted her through the transmitter on Earth in twelve months. Not to tell her how things were going on Mars or to hear how terrible things had turned since Ronaldo Rump had taken over Chicago.
She had even began to steel herself to something she fervently hoped wasn't the truth. That her three ''Biker bros'' had forgotten all the amazing adventures the four of them had experienced together on Earth, and even on Mars. That perhaps her existence in their lives was no longer important to them.
That they'd left her all alone for good.
Like Jack had done!
'' Oh god... Jack!'' Charley thought bitterly as fresh tears dripped down her cheeks.
It had all happened six months ago, but the thought of it still sent a knife through the heart.
Her one and only true friend whom she'd known since high-school (and one who wasn't originally from another planet) had gone missing. Six months ago, after weeks of failed attempts to get in touch with the genius Computer Programmer through calls and emails, the extremely worried young woman had made the journey all the way to California to see with her own eyes that he was alright.
But he hadn't been alright. Not by a long-shot!
She'd spent a good part of the day trying to track him down in the usual places the man liked to go to in his free-time off work. Charley had even gone to Jack's apartment to wait for his return for well over an hour.
Finally, the immensily frustrated young woman had stalked her way to the California Police department where she'd eventually learned the harrowing truth to what exactly had happened to her good friend.
There had been tell-tale signs of a horrifying attack to Jack McCyber's apartment, and the Police Department had been baffled as to who could have been responsible in commiting such an attack, or as to where Jack's wherebouts could have been at the time.
So far this incident had been the one to ''take the cake'' for being Charley's most vile day of the year. Loosing her best-friend had made every other set- back that had happened that week seem so little. And she definitely showed it to the world as she'd stumbled out of the Police Department on numb legs and had hitched a taxi to take her straight to the airport.
Numb, confused, scared, angry and grieved had been her jumbled thread of emotions when Charley had stumbled her way back inside her own home in Chicago. Eventually she'd lost it completely in the comfort of her own garage. Needing to went the burning emotions of grief, Charley had uttered an awful scream and anything within the reach of her hands had been thrown across the room and into the opposite wall.
Finally she'd just curled herself into a fetal-position and cried until she was too physically tired to carry on.
'' OWW! '' Charley gasped out, breaking out of her thoughts as she felt another hard poke between her shoulder- blades. '' Damn it, bros! You thick-headed furballs! I wish you'd had the decency to make contact with me that day I learned about Jack...''
She gave a pained hiss at the sharp sting...'' so that I could have told you guys how much I missed you all.''
Fresh tears formed in her vibrant green eyes and rolled down her cheeks until making a trail down the side of her neck.'' That I MISS you guys so damn much!'' she whispered out loud, her dry throat protesting against the use of words.
…...
End of Prologue