Oh, hello again!
I know I kind of do have a story on hold at the moment but I just have troubles with it and so I decided to put it aside for awhile... But I've been writing short pieces about the history of our three fur-brains and the beginning of the Freedom Fighters and the war etc. and it's really getting my attention now and it's been fun to write it so here's a little something that I wrote for what appears to be the first chapter, so I guess there's more to come...
What I'm writing may have a little bit different approach than the original storyline had in the series (but let's face it the original story-line was a bit messy from time to time so that just leaves more room for the speculations and what-ifs...) And I really wanted to write about how the guys ended up as Freedom Fighters and about the war and all...Where it all started...That has always fascinated me.
And again, English is not my first language so please be gentle but that been said I really do want to know your opinions so please, please hit me with the reviews and comments!
Please enjoy,
-SpaceFlora
Rebel Hearts
Chapter One
It was a cold evening and the blue Martian sunset was seen on the horizon as the Sun was setting just behind the buildings made out of Martian rock, casting its' final sunrays onto the walls coloured in different shades of red and maroon. A brown furred male, dressed in the dark hued jacket and dark pants and boots walked the narrow streets in the downtown of Brimstone City. From his body language could be detected that he wanted to remain as unnoticed as possible as he walked the sand roads between the buildings.
The once green parks were at the moment only dust, the river that once had ran across the Brimstone City had dried up and resembled more of a trench than anything else, only a shallow small stream was now lazily making its' way in the vast riverbed. Many houses still had flowerbeds around them but they were only housing resilient weeds and the remains of fauna and occasional hay. The problem with the drought had started some years ago when the Plutarkians had first comen to the red planet. First they came and started to make business with Mars, paying for the resources the planet had to offer, mainly iron. Since the population of Mars has never been too vast the Martian council (that comprehended the leaders and representatives of all different Martian races) decided that they could sell these resources they'd not necessarily need.
After some time though there started to be some problems, the level of the oceans and rivers started to decrease, it wasn't raining anymore that often and now Martians didn't even remember when had been the last time that they'd seen the rain. The Martian council confronted the Plutarkians who only stated that they're only mining iron and that they weren't to blame for the massive changes in the weather as well in the environment. After some spies had been sent there, they came back with the evidence that showed that not only had the Plutarkians stripmined everything they've gotten their filthy fins on, they'd been expanding their territory explosively also. It was during that time the Martian council finally figured out that this different race from another planet had not comen to Mars for business, but instead they had comen there to invade the whole planet, acre by acre and mercilessly exploit every last resource the planet had to offer, including the water. Since then the Martians had tried to fight against the invaders with the Martian Cave Mice Army as well with the Army of the Rats as during those years they did work together. But it simply wasn't enough. The Plutarkians had more men and heavy weaponry and in the end the Armies only settled for protecting their own territories, leaving the rest of the planet in the hands of the Plutarkians.
It had been during that time that some of the more idealistic soldiers in the Army rows had decided to create an alternative to the slow-working machine that Army was. They wanted to create a force that was effective and easy to lead and command without the bureaucracy. The Resistance was born. Its' main agenda was to fight for the future of Mars and the Martians since they had comen to a conclusion that the Martian council or the governments of both Mice and Rats weren't going to do that or not effectively enough. The Resistance was quickly labelled as a rebellious guerilla group that had taken the law into their own hands and therefore it became a criminal group in the eyes of the law.
But that was seven years ago. Now, as the brown furred male walked the streets of Brimstone City it was a night-time and even if the surroundings did give the atmosphere of an hot desert town the eves were always cold in here and the male had to tighten the jacket around him as his rapid breathing released vapor in the air.
The male, whose long hair had been tied into a ponytail sped up even more as he turned the corner and then took the stone stairs down, into a cellar before coming infront of a steel door which he opened in a hurry.
Inside the warm climate of the grubby cellar bar hit him in the face as he continued towards a table where he could see some familiar faces.
"Ah, Stoker, here you are...Finally..." A black furred male snorted, tapping the man on his back.
"Yeah, well, I had to take the scenic route... I think I was been followed, had to hide my bike and walk the rest..." Stoker replied, taking a seat by the table.
"Yeah, yeah...Always so paranoid..." Another male with dark grey fur chuckled, smoking his tobacco or the Martian equalance to it. Both of the men were dressed in the Fighter vests, yellow shirts and dark pants and boots.
"Hey, you'd be too if you had seen the good ol' Martian cell as many times as I have...! Trust me their bunks ain't that good that you'd wanna spend any extra nights in there... Not to mention that I'm a marked mouse now, I can't get caught anymore, next time they'll throw me in jail, permanently...for interfering into state's business..." Stoker talked back, keeping his voice low and glaring around them.
"Don't worry... the place' Fighter-friendly, it's safe...The owner even offered us these...!" The black furred male said, holding a cup full of Martian liquor and Stoker now noticed that there were infact three cups on the table.
"You just drink whatever a stranger brings into the table, Norton...?" Stoker raised his eyebrow, taking his jacket off. It was too hot to wear that inside. Outside the temperature had been freezing, here it was like a summer. It was all these mice backed into one tiny cellar bar and then the fire burning in one corner...The black furred male, called as Norton, shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from the liquor.
"It's free..."
"So, is being shot to the head..." Stoker muttered but then got silent as the owner of the bar came to them.
"Is everythin' alright, gentlemen? You need anythin'?"
"We're fine, thanks..." Stoker nodded quickly, still glaring around him.
"Don't worry, sir..." The owner said while seeing his uneasy behaviour.
"Everyone here is on your side...I know my customers." He kept his voice down but had a meaningful tone. Stoker raised his look to meet his eyes and he could tell by his look that he didn't lie. The brown furred leader of the Resistance nodded again and gathered a slight smile on his face.
"Well, it's nice to know that we've still got some friends..."
"Always... If there's anythin' you need... Just ask." The owner then said and after giving each of the three Fighters a look, he left.
"Didn't I tell you that the place was okay?" Norton smirked as he gulped his cup of liquor down his throat.
"Yeah..." Stoker answered but then turned to the other male sitting by the table, who had been reading the newspaper.
"So, what's on the news, Topper?"
"The news?" The dark grey male chuckled and leafed through the paper.
"Well, if we're believing the news then our planet's just fine...No war, no corruption, no robbing of our lands by a hidious race from another part of the Galaxy... It's entertaining more than educational really..." Topper answered and then put his cigarette out in the ashtray. Stoker sniffed his cup of liquor.
"Yeah, well... I guess war doesn't sell as well as it used to... I mean, for a planet that's constantly on a break of war, after all the civil wars, the Great Martian Wars etc...it can get tiresome and people want to live in this dreamland where everything's fine...They just want to believe in something good and read about the good stuff rather than the bad stuff..."
"You think it's okay to sell this crap to the citizens...? These guys should be journalists and not storytellers for Deimos' sake!" Topper asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's just like you said, it's only entertainment. People do know something's up, it's just not that fun to think about, so they don't. They push the thougths aside. They're just scared. And when you're scared you tend to cling onto the old patterns of behaviour... Mainly trusting the old systems, trusting that you're safe and the government will save your ass in the end..."
"And the Army..." Topper snorted.
"What choice do they have except to believe in them?" Stoker asked shrugging his shoulders.
"Uh, well, how about us? They could just believe in the Freedom Fighters!"
"It's not our job to educate the people, it's our job to try and end this...before it's too late." Stoker talked.
"Well, seems to me that someone needs to educate the masses! Otherwise we'll be sentenced for treason in no time...! Not really motivating prize for all the hard work..."
"We don't do this for some prizes, for trophys or for fame and glory...!" Stoker raised his voice, glaring his dark grey furred comrade.
"Uhm, excuse me...? Don't tell me you haven't been flexing infront of the prettier half of the population and telling hero stories about the mysterious Fighters...? Right... All I'm sayin' is that try to sell this to the kids, to the young ones who maybe ponder whether they should join us or not... Hey, kid, this is really fun, you'll do all this dangerous stuff for your planet but your prize is either a shallow grave out in the desert or a prison. Welcome on board, kid! Enjoy the ride as long as it lasts!" Topper chuckled, shaking his head, half-joking.
"I've never said or advertized that the life of a rebel soldier was an easy road..." Stoker muttered.
"Yeah, well, it could be made a lot easier, though...That's all I'm sayin'..." Topper shrugged his shoulders but then threw the paper away.
"Easy is for the weak-minded." Stoker half-joked and gulped his cup full of Martian liquor down. It made him to squint his eyes.
"Gods...! That stuff should be illegal...!"
"I think it is..." Norton replied, having been studying the two males bickering in the table. His eyes then turned to someone walking towards them. Stoker and Topper also turned their heads towards a young male, tan furred and with the rock-star hair, floating just above his shoulder blades. He was wearing the jeans, a dark sleeveless shirt and the black boots. He had a slender body but it showed the signs of strength and he was already taller than Stoker.
The young male gave the men a look and although there was something really calm about the youngster he still seemed a bit nervous. There was a silence when neither side said nothing. Topper then cleared his throat.
"Are you lost, kid...?"
"No..." The young male then answered quickly, shaking his head but his eyes fell on Stoker.
"You are Stoker, right...?" He then asked or more of stated and the brown furred male raised his look to meet the clear eyes of this young male.
"I'm sorry, you must've been mistaken..." Stoker only smiled back, turning away from him but the young male only took a step closer.
"You're Stoker, I know you are..." He kept his voice down but it didn't hide his rising enthusiasm.
"I mean, everyone on Mars knows you."
"Is that so? So, do I know you, kid?" Stoker asked, giving him another glance.
"Guess not."
There was another silence but the young male quickly cut it.
"I wanna join the Fighters."
"Well, I'm afraid that this is not the recruit office..." Stoker answered dryly.
"And you're not the Army." The young male answered back quickly, having a slight smirk on his face. Stoker didn't know whether he appreaciated the gesture or not.
"Why would we wanna recruit you?" He then asked not even trying to look enthusiastic.
"I'm a volunteer?"
"We don't recruit just anybody..."
"I'm not just anybody."
"Well, aren't you a self-confident kid... What makes you so special that we absolutely would wanna have you in our rows...?"
"I'm not a kid, I'm seventeen-years old. And I believe in your cause."
"What's our cause then?"
"The truth."
There was a silence again. Stoker turned his head to Topper and Norton who gave him a meaningful look back.
"You're a smooth talker, I'll give you that... What does your parents say about your future career-choice...?" Stoker leaned back.
"Haven't asked."
"Oh, we've got a real rebel here..."
The tan furred maled changed his posture a bit agitated.
"So, can I join you?" He then asked now having a little doubt in his voice since all this back-and-forth conversation had made the whole situation a bit hard-to-read.
Stoker sighed and stood up, putting on his jacket as did the other two males. The young male looked at them a bit baffled.
"Listen... What's your name...?" Stoker then turned to him again.
"Throttle, sir..."
"Sir..." Stoker chuckled amused but then gave him a glare.
"You know the monastery outside the city limits?"
"Yeah..." Throttle nodded.
"Be there tomorrow, at sunset."
"Yes! Wait, what?" Throttle asked now a little confused but saw only the backs of the older males as they stepped outside the bar.
"The Monastery...?" Throttle repeated in disbelief.
x
x
"Ah donno, bro..." The grey furred young male sighed while kicking the ball behind his mommah's house.
"Just think about it, okay? I mean, we've talked about this...About joining the Fighters." Throttle asked while sitting on a garden chair which seemed a bit unrelevant item since there wasn't that much of a garden left. Everything had dried up during the many years' of drought.
A young boy with a stripy mess of hair on top of his head tried to kick the ball back towards the grey male but so that it curved into the wrong direction.
"Sorry, Uncle Modo...! I go get it...!" The little boy ran to get the ball which rolled fast ahead of him. Modo scratched the back of his head and took a seat on the other garden chair. Even if he wasn't fully grown yet his height was noticeable and he was more robust-built than his friend.
"Ah mean... Ah want to join them but Ah can't just take off and leave... Ah've got responsibilities here..."
"I know you do but... C'mon, Modo, we've been talking about this forever...!"
"Yeah, Ah know..."
"This is our chance to finally do somethin' important!"
"Look, Ah know all that...! It just doesn't change the facts that my family needs me here...! Ah can't just...leave them. Out of the blue."
"You'll not leave them... If anything you'll help to make sure that they'll even have a future..."
The tall youngster sighed and leaned back in the chair, tapping the handrests. He then looked around the little yard.
"Man, Ah miss the green stuff... And water. Ah can't even take the kids to fish anymore after the lakes dried up..."
"So, let's make sure that this planet will someday be the planet it once used to be, hu..?" Throttle gave him a smile.
Suddenly a ball was rolling next to them and they saw the little boy jumping up and down a little further away.
"C'mon, Uncle Modo...! Let's play...!"
"Alright, alright, little man...! Sorry, your uncle just gettin' old and tired..." Modo joked as he got up and played with the football a little while before kicking it back towards the boy, more gently than serious.
"Gods know the Army ain't doin' anythin' for the matter...Why Carbine wants to join their side is just a mystery to me..." Throttle mused.
"Well, ya know she just might be the kick in the ass the Army needs...She's one determinated and fierce lady, Ah bet she'll end up as a General someday..." Modo chuckled back but then gave his friend a look.
"Ya didn't tell that guy Stoker that ya dated his niece, did ya...?"
"No... I wanted to join the team not end up buried out in the desert..."
Modo gave a guffaw. Throttle gave him a look under his brows.
"So...What ya say, bro...? You're ready to whip some tail and join the Resistance?"
"Yeah, sure...Ah'll just talk with my mommah first..." Modo nodded, scratching lazily his side and then kicking the ball again as it rolled beside him. Throttle turned his look to him again a little suspicious.
"She knows the Fighters?"
"Knows? Bro, get this: Ah found out she even knows Stoker..."
"How?"
"Ah donno where they've met...She always has like millions things cookin', Ah can't keep up with all of 'em..."
"That's funny..."
"How so?"
"Oh, I just thought that you know...sometimes... the more...aged, well, mature people..."
"Are ya callin' my mommah old?" Modo turned his look to him and it got Throttle a bit cautious. He knew he was in dangerous waters and he could swear that when Modo was been provoked his eyes were flaming and he did not like to see his face burning in those flames.
"No, no...Well, you know she is a bit more...experienced..? Look, all I'm sayin' is that normally... the older people tend to stick with their traditional worldviews..." Throttle tried to create a sensible sentence that would not make his friend go over the edge. Modo glared at him a while longer but then raised his eyebrow in the end and sighed.
"Well, she's not like that, she's always told me and my sis that no matter what we should always think ourselves and not necessarily believe everything they, the government tell us. We have to do what's right, what we feel is the right thing to do and always be true to ourselves and our values."
"Well, should have guessed... She's a rebel as well..." Throttle nodded, smiling.
Modo was to answer but was interrupted as a woman's voice echoed inside the house.
"Boys, come on eat...! You too, Throttle! Ah've made soup and there's plenty to every soul!"
"Ya do know that's an order and not a suggestion...?" Modo smirked at his tan furred friend who chuckled back, getting up.
"Yeah... Well, we better go eat then, bro..." Throttle tapped his friend's shoulder and gently nudged Rimfire as he ran to them, and the boy only cheerfully glanced back.