Greetings, my minions. Yes, tis Mad-Eyed Owl again, reminiscing about that distant time now misted over – way back in that classic, ancient age called the 1990's. God, I loved growing up in the 90's. It was brilliant. I don't care what the employment rates say. And one of my favourite cartoons at that time was the Biker Mice from Mars. I thought they were so cool. With their bikes and their Mars.
Anyway. Enjoy. Get back to me with reviews. PLEASE. There. I asked nicely.
Peace out.
There were flowers growing in the gutter.
That was the first thing Throttle noticed when he went outside to get the mail. Real flowers.
He'd been so surprised he'd dropped his letters, and they'd drifted down to the ground like a flurry of leaves. He hadn't seen flowers in Mars for so long that it completely kicked him out to see them now. Flowers were on Earth, not Mars.
He glanced at the sky, almost too hopeful. No clouds. Am I surprised? But they would come – he was determined that they would.
He turned around and went back inside, reading his letters. There were two, both of them bills. But that was OK – it was almost a relief to get them. Life was getting back to normal if people were trying to tax him.
The radio was blaring noisily, so he didn't hear the phone right away. His phone was the type that got louder and louder with each ring, so he almost had a heart attack when a screeching "brrrrring!" howled from the wall. He turned the radio off and snatched it up quickly.
"Hello?"
"Hey. It's me."
Carbine. Throttle sighed inwardly. "Hey."
Privately, he would have preferred a telemarketer instead of his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, he reminded himself. We aren't together anymore. She broke it off twenty minutes after I arrived back on Mars. That had been almost two months ago.
"How you goin'?"
"I'm getting on with it. You?"
"Peachy." She cut to the chase, just like she always did. "I have an assignment for you."
"You still playing General?"
"I'm always playing General." She didn't sound amused. "If you could meet me at my office at Domicile tonight, that would be great."
"You're not telling me now?"
"It's a little secret." He could hear her smiling. "Just a little secret."
"OK." He tried to put a smile in his voice too, but it didn't quite work. "So what time?"
"Around six. Six would be good." She was musing.
"Uh-huh."
"And don't be late." She sounded serious. "This is one of those clichéd life-and-death situations here. It's important to me."
"Fine. I'll meet you there."
"Great. See you tonight, then." She hung up.
It's important to me. He played it over and over in his mind as he put the phone back. Of course it's important to you. But wasn't I important to you?
He already knew the answer. The title of "General" in Carbine's name was the most important thing in his ex's entire life. He knew she would never let go of it easily – unlike how you let go of me.
He sat back down at the table and read his bills again, just for something to do. He dreamed of Carbine ringing him up and wanting him back, but it would never happen. He knew that much.
We just don't work. I'm sorry, but it's been too long.
Totally cool with that, girl. Off you go.
It's the only way I can cope without you right now.
He'd been to Carbine's office before. It was a tiny room with her desk in the centre, and windows at the back looking over the Domicile camp. He knew the office very well – he and Carbine had known the floor particularly. And the walls. And the chair. And the surface of the desk.
She was standing with her back to the door, watching the cadets as they practiced their combat skills. She heard him come in, but didn't turn around. "Hey, Throttle."
"Hey, Carbine."
She turned her head and smiled at him. "What's up?"
"Nothin' much." He sat down and watched her as she slid into her chair on the other side of the desk. He knew the way she moved – he'd always know.
"The other guys will be here in minute, I guess. I called Vinnie and Modo," she added to his questioning expression. "This is a big job. So I called in the big boys," she said with a wicked grin.
Throttle nodded, and they fell into a God-awful silence. Carbine seemed quite fascinated with the surface of her desk, and Throttle was just fascinated with her. It lasted maybe a minute before Carbine looked up and met his eyes firmly. "Throttle –"
She was going to say something important; he could see it on her face. And he didn't want to hear it. "I know. It's OK."
"What do you know?"
"You were about to tell me why we can't be together."
"Oh." Carbine sat back. "Yes."
"Don't start. Please. We've gone through this and I know. End of subject."
She nodded again, dropping her eyes. "OK."
Carbine only ever showed her vulnerability in little flashes. He savoured each second, because he knew he might never see it again.
When the door opened and Vinnie and Modo came bouncing in, Throttle was ready to hug them. Please save me from these clumsy moments with her. They hadn't seen each other for a while, too, so there was backslapping to be had. The boys managed to restrain themselves from tackling each other in Carbine's office – last time they did that, she'd called security and had threatened to shoot off important parts of their anatomy. They weren't game to see if she still meant it.
"Good to see you're all here," Carbine said smoothly. Always a professional.
Vinnie was fidgeting in his seat. "So, Carbine – do you need me to save the world again?"
Carbine rolled her eyes. "What I would like you to do is to preferably drop off a log… but I need you for an assignment."
"You injure me, lady." Vinnie grinned.
"It was meant to hurt." She grinned back anyway, baring her teeth savagely. "Shut up and I'll tell you what you want to know."
"Gladly."
She paused, giving him the eye. "I'm sending you out to look for Mace Sordovsta."
Modo growled audibly. "You're only sendin' us out to do that now?"
"In a word, yes." Carbine looked at him warningly. Modo shut up.
"I know it's been a while, but we've been getting reports of a large male Rat seen around backwater towns, sometimes with a young blonde Mouse-girl. He sticks around for a while, doesn't talk to anybody, and then leaves. We interviewed a woman who saw him, and she identified him as Mace."
Carbine paused delicately and listened to the silence. "She identified Harley as well. It's the first time in four years that anyone's had any sighting of either of them, and Harley's family put forward an appeal to track Mace immediately. So I'm asking you guys – asking – to help with the search teams."
"How many are there?"
"Four. North, south, east and west."
Throttle looked at her. "Are we going as a group of three, or –?"
Carbine raised her eyebrows. "No, actually. I've hired one of our best trackers in the field to help you out."
"Tracker?" Modo looked blank. "Ain't that from the movies?"
"Private investigation is actually a real occupation." Carbine folded her hands under her chin. "Tracking is a slang term for it. Their job is to inspect certain cases that involve a missing individual or individuals, at least one of them being criminal, and hunt them down to apprehend them. They're not real cops – that's for us to handle. But they're useful…" she wrinkled her nose. "Even if the one I'm hiring doesn't come cheap. She's worked for us before. She's very good, and she knows it." Throttle could see Carbine mentally adding bitch on the end of her sentence.
"Carbine, we can find Mace by ourselves, we can handle this sort of thing!" Vinnie was indignant. "Who is it, anyway?"
"Karma Supersede." Carbine made it sound as though that should clear up any disagreement, but it didn't.
Vinnie growled. "Jeez, we don't need the –"
Suddenly the door swung open. Everyone turned around to look as the tracker called Karma framed the doorway.
Karma had dark blonde hair that was highlighted in platinum and black. It was gently wavy, wafting down to her shoulders and brushing the teasingly low neckline of her body-hugging white singlet. She had on a pair of snug jeans and plain black boots, with a comfortable leather jacket. She wasn't dressed up in the least, but the way she stood and the way she spoke was enough to make Throttle stare at her with his mouth open and agape. She was hot.
Karma tilted her gorgeous head to one side. "You called?" Her voice came out in a husky, sexy little purr. It was a soft voice, but it made everyone go quiet.
Carbine nodded. "I did. Sit down."
Karma sashayed across the room, as though she owned it, and glided into one of the chairs next to Modo. She didn't even look at him – her eyes were on Carbine.
"So… what's new?"
Carbine slid the folder over the desk to Karma's waiting hand. "Read it. It's the case file against Mace Sordovsta… I'm sure you've heard of him."
Karma's eyes trailed over the words in front of her, and she reached into her pocket absently, producing a packet of cigarettes. She lit one, and then offered the packet to Carbine. To Throttle's surprise, Carbine accepted.
Karma blew out a hazy cloud of smoke as she murmured, "Mace Sordovsta… haven't heard that name for a long while." She sounded like she was musing. "Thought you woulda given up that case by now."
Carbine leaned in close, chuckling softly. "We don't give up… we just leave things alone, make the criminal feel comfortable, wait until they make a wrong move… then we snap 'em." She blew a long stream of smoke into Karma's face.
Karma smiled as she glanced up from the file. "What bullshit. You're not at a press conference, General – of course you gave up on Harley. That's why you've called me to do this for you." This was a woman who was not in the least afraid of Carbine. Throttle was suddenly very interested in how Carbine would react.
"How very observant of you." Carbine took the criticism in a very cool and un-Carbine way. Throttle wondered if it was just the smoke or if she was putting on the act on purpose. Was she nervous around Karma? Now that would be interesting.
The tracker in question shrugged. "Observation pays good. And I'm observant enough to know that it's taken a long time for Mace to make a wrong move."
"True, that."
Karma took a thoughtful draw on her fag, the tip of it glowing like her own personal Hell. "Jeez, Carbine, some of the guys I've tracked for you don't even make wrong moves in prison, even if they do grasp that nobody gives a fuck what they do once they're behind bars."
Carbine considered the light hanging from the ceiling, smoke trailing up from the end of her cigarette. "True…" She blew out another stream of smoke. She was following Karma like a lamb.
Karma nodded silently, reading the file. "Says here he's on other charges apart from kidnapping Harley… what else's this Rat done?"
"Fraudulence to the state, physical assault, murder, attempted murder, possession and usage of unauthorised explosive material, a stack of theft charges, alcohol smuggling to forbidden areas –"
Karma chuckled. "Oh, I remember alcohol smuggling. That was lotsa fun."
"Alkie smuggling? Since when were you involved in that?"
"I apprehended a lot of people for that, remember – back in the day, when we were young…"
"Oh yeah. Fun times." Carbine rolled her eyes. "Let's see, what else… open hostility with intent, violence and attempted assassination to authoritive figures and civilians, possible rape charges…"
Karma looked up at the last comment. "Re-ally…" she said meditatively, as she exhaled a tempest of tobacco miasma. "Who's the lucky chickie?"
"I said it's possible. Harley's a pretty girl," Carbine took her time to take another drag, "and I think he didn't kidnap her for just any old reason."
"Is it proven?"
"Does it need to be?"
Karma raised her eyebrows. "Damn…"
She snapped the file shut and handed it back to Carbine. "I gotta say, Carbine, this is gonna be interesting."
Carbine's expression suddenly epitomised a transparent 'uh-oh', but she managed to keep it out of her voice. "How so?"
"Most of the men – and women," she added after a moment, "that I've ever stalked for you have been alone. They don't have any hostages with 'em, which is good, cos it meant I could concentrate on the job properly. The two hostage-jobs I did for you were different from this – in the case of Dusky, I had several other detectives helping me. And Tumult-Furore released her hostages within two days before killing herself, the bitch… so I don't think that counts as much. They didn't move around with their hostages like Mace does, and didn't have access to so many areas that I can't get into."
"Whaddya mean?"
"He's a Rat. He can go hide in Rat communities. Can't track him there."
"Oh." Carbine lost all poise and began to look distinctly worried.
Karma blinked her long lashes. "If he's got a pretty little mouse-girl with him… things could get a tiny, teensy bit ugly. He'll use her as a shield, and that means he'll hurt her to scare me off. If she's brainwashed, and I can promise you she will be, then Harley will do exactly what he tells her to – even if it means shoot me 'tween the eyes. That in turn would lead to me defending myself, which would mean that I'd shoot back. Sorry, but I ain't taking any blame if she gives up the ghost." She said it as mildly as if she'd just been discussing politics or the weather. Her expression was docile, with her eyebrows slightly raised.
Carbine sat back in her seat, looking into Karma's eyes through a wall of murky haze. "We'll see what we can do about that when we actually get enough information," she said firmly. "Right now, I just want you to track him, maybe get close to him if you can, the usual dig…"
Karma nodded. "Will do. So now that we've discussed this…" her eyes slid over to the three guys, slightly patronising, "… why're these guys here?"
Carbine chose her words delicately. "Well… as you mentioned before, Mace has a hostage. So that means you have twice the responsibility – and since I didn't want to overly press you, I thought it would be good if you had a little help." She paused. "Just in case Mace gives you any… trouble," she supplied.
Karma's eyes were dark blue, almost indigo, and were as hard as rocks. It was only then that Throttle noticed a thin jagged scar, running down from the right corner of her mouth and under her chin. It looked wrong on her beautiful face, like a splash of red wine on a white silk tablecloth.
Karma's words were very brisk. "I don't work with Neanderthals."
Carbine cleared her throat. "I'd watch what you say, Karma. These guys know their stuff."
"Yeah? Well I know more stuff than they do." Karma crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, one hand raised elegantly as she balanced her cigarette between fingertips. "Either you drop the chumps or I drop the job. I don't wanna be lookin' after three big infants."
Vinnie's hackles rose. "Hey, we could probably do this better than you –"
Carbine's warning stare came too late. Karma pounced, a beatific smile on her face. "Could you really?" She sneered. "I doubt that, White-Fur. I've been in this job since I was eighteen. Lots and lots of the lifetime criminals you see in prison have been caught by little old me." She spread her hands. "And I don't even carry a blaster," she said wistfully, her eyes on Vinnie's holster.
Vinnie didn't back down. "What's that got to do with it? Mace's been on the run for years and nobody's even got close to touching him – what makes you think you can catch him now?"
Karma smiled mysteriously. "I have my ways." She finished her cigarette and looked at Vinnie with large eyes. "And I have my advantages, see? One: He doesn't know me. Two: I'm female and I'm blonde. Three: I can act as dumb as I want." She held up three long fingers. "I could knock him out by slippin' a little pill in his drink while pretending to be a whore. Sorry to break it to ya, but Mace isn't gonna find you all that attractive when you walk in the door, unless he's gay – and even then I'd have my doubts about him wantin' to screw you."
Carbine sniggered accidentally. Karma grinned. Vinnie scowled.
Karma's smile fell off her face with calculated alacrity. "See that, General?" she said without breaking eye-contact with Vinnie. "If he lost his temper for real, then we'd really be screwed. What'll I do if that happens? Mace will be shifty enough. I need to keep him buttered up – White-Fur there will screw it so fine it'll be admissible for a new fuckin' religion."
Carbine was seething. "Alright. I see your point." Her voice was very, very tight. She was going to make Vinnie eat his own genitalia when Karma left.
Karma glanced at her. "God. You do? How quaint." She put her hands behind her head and considered the ceiling, thoughtful. "Have a think, now."
"Double the price," Carbine said, hunting for a different approach. "We'll pay you double."
"You could offer me quadruple, Carbine. No dice." She stood up. "You know what? I don't have time for this. I gotta lot of other clients beggin' for my services, and they're willing to pay me a lot of money to do jobs that are a lot easier than this. So either you play with my rules, General, or you don't play with anything." She rocked all her weight onto one hip. "I'll let you think about it. Have a good night."
She whirled on her toe and floated out the door, slamming it behind her.
There was a moments' silence in which Carbine glared at Vinnie poisonously. Then she stood up too. "You… will die… a horrible death," she spat at his face. "And I hope I am there when you do." She grabbed her jacket and stormed out of her office.
Vinnie looked visibly hurt. "Something I said?"
"Vinnie, you're such a dick."
"And you're such a bleedin' heart," he snapped at Throttle. "You only came here so you could see her, and if something happens to make her happy she might take you back – you think she's gonna do that? She's a bitch, Throttle. Wake up to yourself, for God's sake."
Modo finally intervened. He told Vinnie to keep his mouth shut, but it was already done.
It was Throttle's turn to walk out. Because Vinnie had just hit a very sensitive spot, and he wasn't sure if he wanted it exposed for the entire world to see just yet.
BWAH-HAH! Throttle's an emotional wreck… poor darling.
Read and review, sil vous plait. Greatly appreciate it. Chapter two comin' up.