Authors Note:
Now, I know that prejudice doesn't just end with a fancy speech, but I'm going to just say that these guys have been there, they've fought and some have died for their beliefs. They've been to different planets, seen different ways of life and experienced vastly strange cultures in comparison to their own. They've been at war for so long, they've loved, lost and still got up to fight another day. They've come across enemies who haven't changed, and those who have. So, it really shouldn't be that much of a stretch to say they just needed to have it brought up in a solid conversation where they're forced to confront that which is unpleasant and ugly in themselves.
Just a thought. On with the fix.
P.s ~ One shot. Might do an accompanying piece should anyone want one. Additionally Throttle doesn't appear on this one. Couldn't find a way to shoe-horn him in without it sounding wrong. Sorry Throttle fans! This is set after the mice get back from earth (Original series compatible only, sorry new series fans :P )
The fight lasted a short and sharp handful of seconds. Modo and Rimfire had caught a rat walking into their encampment and dragged him into the centre of it where everyone could see him. All the while the rat had struggled, crying out in panic that all he'd wanted to do was ask if anyone had seen his daughter. Vinnie had charged forward and ripped them apart, standing in front of the rat and directing a vicious snarl at Rimfire who, for the life of him, looked like he had no idea what the hell was going on.
"I've had enough of this. Who are you guys? Fucking Plutarkian?" Vinnie barked. Rimfire's hackles rose and Modo took a step forward, his eye glowing dangerously.
"You be careful Vinnie, you're my bro, but now you're going too far-"
"Too far? TOO FAR?" The white mouse bellowed in response. He pointed at the cowering rat behind him.
"Look at this poor bastard! He came to us for help, not to have the shit kicked out of him. If he wanted to die he could have just rotted in a Plutarkian camp."
"He's a rat Vinnie."
"And you're a mouse, but right now you're acting like a Plutarkian and I can't fucking stand to look at you, let alone call you my brother."
Stunned silence ran through the gathered mice. Vincent with panting with the force of his anger, but he did not move from his place between the grey and tan mouse in front of him and the mottled rat behind him. The encampment shifted as the rest of the patrol team came forward to see what was going on.
"What are you saying Vincent?" Carbine asked quietly, stepping forward to put a hand on Modo's chest and fix Vinnie with a pointed and critical stare.
The white mouse rolled his shoulders.
"You once asked me what was up on Deimos." He began, then fell silent. Carbine nodded. Vincent saw this and he continued.
"Deimos wasn't just a dead moon. It'd had it's centre gutted and was filled with a…" Vincent trailed off and ran a hand down his face. He took a breath and fixed her with an intense look.
"It wasn't a prison, it was something like a concentration camp."
Rimfire raised an eyebrow.
"What's that?" He asked, folding his arms.
"Remember Charlie?"
Many nodded.
"She told me that on Earth there was a war. A war that involved the whole planet."
"Sweet momma of Mars…"
"It went on for years…so many... too many humans died."
"Was it the Plutarkians?"
Vincent laughed weakly.
"No. No it was just humans. Humans against humans."
"But why? Why would anyone do that, w-"
"You should know Modo. The Plutarkians did it to us, except the humans were less about raw materials and more about killing those who didn't fit their description of 'the perfect human race'. Charlene said it wasn't because anyone had done anything wrong, it was because someone had decided that being different was evil, and that because that was what they believed…the humans that were different had to die."
"All humans look alike to me." Mumbled Stoker, frowning at the younger mouse. He shrugged and turned his head. Vinnie shook his head and looked around at the mice before him.
"These humans that killed, they thought they were better than everyone else. They killed people because they believed in different things. They killed them because of their different looks."
He turned to Carbine.
"They killed those who spoke out against them, those who tried to fight for what they believed was right."
She cringed minutely but resolutely stared back at him.
"So what are you saying? That we shouldn't act like something that the humans were? Vincent, rats hurt us, badly, during the Plutarkian war, you should know that better than anyone else."
"Yeah. I do. But Deimos…the idea of those camps came from Earth. The Plutakians, they'd scoped Earth before us, decided we were the easier target."
"So what? And how do you know that?"
"The info was up in the control quarters up there. This is closer to us than we think. They'd never have discovered how to…treat martians like that if it wasn't for their research into Earth based tortures and detention blocks…"
Modo rubbed his temples in aggravation.
"This is not makin' sense bro. What did you see up there on that moon?"
"I…they turned us into batteries Modo… chemical experiments and dissections worse that anything that we experienced in Karbunkles Lab…
A heavy silence hung between the two biker mice.
"It wasn't just us, mice I mean. It was rats and sand-raiders too. You know why some of those rats did such fucking awful things to us Modo? The Fish-scum promised them that if they did, they'd get their families back."
"Rat's aren't known for their smarts Vinnie."
"Neither are we when we're trying to save those we love."
"But they're-"
"Stop trying to find differences Modo. We're freedom fighters. Aren't we supposed to fight for freedom? If someone asks us for help aren't we supposed to at least try? How can we say we can't help this guy because he's a rat? That's like saying we can't help Charlie-girl because she's a human. Neither are mice, but why are we being so picky with who has the right to live and who doesn't? Doesn't that make us just as bad as the Plutarkians?"
Several heads lowered in thought. Vincent sighed. He looked at Carbine who was watching the rat with an unreadable look. Modo's eye's narrowed as he face showed his warring emotions.
"My grey-furred old momma never said nothing about makin' nice with rats Vinnie."
"But Grandma also used to say live and let live Uncle modo." Rimfire spoke up from behind them. He put a hand on his uncle's shoulder and squeezed gently.
"We claim to know better, to be better than the fish-bastards morally…" he cast a quick glance to the other freedom fighters and Stoker and flashed them a small smirk, "and hygienically too, if you want." A brief flicker of amusement passed through the group. Stoker relaxed and nodded. Vinnie grinned the sobered.
"If we take the higher ground aren't we supposed to practice what we preach?" Vinnie asked the mice. Modo looked upwards and sighed low and long.
"Practice what we preach? Those words aren't yours Vince…" He said slowly, questioningly.
"Yeah, they're a friend of mines." He added, mostly to himself, "though, she's not saying much anymore."
Stoker opened his mouth to speak but the white mouse shook his head.
"If we do this now. If we hurt this rat, when we could have helped him…that doesn't make us as bad as the Plutarkians…"
"…it makes us worse." Carbine finished with a pained whisper.
And it finishes there. I know it cuts off a little sharp, but couldn't really figure how to finish it other than that. And it's fun when Carbine gets the last word. 'Cause you know she always does anyway :D