- Header Author's Everlasting Notes BEGINS -
"Nothing, ever" has been discontinued. I can't find the time to continue writing any longer. I also lost the inspiration and interest mainly due to the enormous load of corrections needed and remaining chapters to write. This header has been updated in November 2016 though in order to comply with 's guidelines and make the story visible again. I just might do something about this old creation of mine but I cannot promise anything. Anyway, hope you still find it "readable" and thanks to everyone who left feedback throughout the years.
All spelling and grammar errors you locate are my bad since I usually write in a hurry when inspiration strikes, also English is not my first language. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this fanfiction series and that it might inspire you in turn. Credits to those who can hazard a good guess where the title is taken from and what it refers to.
~Andreas W
On Ownerships of Characters
This is a fan fiction which means I do not own nor have I ever owned any of the original Biker Mice From Mars characters. All other people/mice/aliens/etc figuring in these stories are created and therefore owned by yours truly with the exception of:
1. Spark
2. Stunts
3. Starblaze
4. Kickstart
5. Centerline
6. Mrs. Davidson
These six characters belong to JWC who was kind enough to let me borrow them for this imaginary adventure.
The time-lines in these stories are based on the Earth-time and the military 24-hour system.
Warnings!
Some of the story chapters contain foul language (but the worst words have been stripped voluntarily been stripped since they were deemed redundant), cases of nasty violence and later even erotic descriptions unsuitable for readers under sixteen years of age. You must be (or claim to be) 16 years or older to continue reading.
I am not saying this to belittle you - I do it FOR YOUR sake. You have been warned so please do not harass me if you find my story discomforting. Thank-you very much.
Also, please do not try to blatantly rip off or modify my stories in any way, okay? If you wish to borrow my characters you'd better ask before doing so. This is common courtesy and sense, people. Also, respect the characters which I in turn borrowed and do not use them without expressed permissions from JWC. Not adhering to these words of wisdom might result in you getting a rather pissed author on your back and that would not be nice, now would it?
- Header Author's Everlasting Notes ENDS here -
Andreas W's
"Nothing, ever"
Part I (a prologue) A Christmas as you wouldn't like
Chicago
December the 24th, 1998
19:10
"So, we'd like to warn all you drivers out there, slippery roads and a snowstorm is a baa-aaad combination fellahs! So watch where you're driving! And now for something completely different!"
"Yea yea yea! El, can you turn down the volume?"
"Does it make you nervous?"
"It's not that. I just don't like to hear that guy Brown, yelling. The music he plays, too much metal-crap."
"Tsk tsk, don't be like that! It's hard to believe that you ARE from Essex!"
"That's why I insisted we should move to Chicago, to get rid of all that rave."
"Chuckle Bad excuse, James darlin'."
He turned his head and grinned.
"As bad as always, huh?"
"My god, it's already 7:15p.m! Timmy must wonder where we are. He said he would come home at seven."
"Aw, come on sweets, you really don't think our little anarchist would be too much for Renshaw to bear for another twenty minutes?"
"Remember that they're going for a vacation? We don't want to be an obstacle in their way, right?"
"I guess we don't and better hurry up a little?" he asked and accelerated.
The car, a BMW M Coupé, had studded tires and was well prepared for a ride through a winter city in the middle of a snowstorm.
Both the windshield wipers were working rapidly and the lights were good enough to at least reveal thirty yards ahead in the heavy snowstorm.
There was unusual much traffic on little road they were driving on that lead through a very anonymous block in the outskirts of the city.
"Damn, we won't be able to be home before 7:45pm." James muttered and slowed down the car a little.
"I'll call them and forewarn about our late arrival." Elinoré said and dialled a number on the cell-phone, then waited until someone picked up.
"Renshaw, it's Weronica."
"Hi, it's Elinoré."
"Oh hi, I was just wondering why you didn't show up."
"Yes, I'm terrible sorry...but we're gonna be a little late, and..."
"Don't worry about it. We just got a phone-call from Henry's parents and we'll go there tomorrow when the weather is better. Peter and Tim are having a great time so you don't need to hurry."
"Thank goodness, then I can breathe out." Elinoré laughed and felt the tensions go away. "You're great who can bear with us and our mistakes once more."
A laughter could be heard from the phone's little speaker.
"Well, it's not like we're getting used to it but this time you DO have a good excuse. So don't hurry and get into an accident, okay?"
"Promise." El grinned a little. "We'll hopefully be there in thirty minutes but I'm not sure."
"Come whenever you want, we'll keep an eye or two on Timmy."
"Thanks. I love you for doing this. We'll come as fast as we can, okay?"
"Love is mutual here. We'll see you later." Weronica laughed again.
"Bye."
She hung up and put the cell phone in the purse.
"No need to hurry. They're not leaving tonight."
"Whoa, we're lucky today! Once a year is it supposed to be so, isn't it?"
"Always." His wife answered and squeezed his arm gently.
In front of them was a railway crossing and the red lights flashed, so James stopped the car and waited.
"This will be the first calm Christmas since I don't know when." James said right out into the warm air inside the car.
"Mmm." Elinoré mumbled and stared blankly at the large amount of snowflakes that fell over the windshield and slowly melted on the warmer glass before the windshield wipers removed them. "So much trouble, still so much time left."
Behind the BMW, a lorry appeared and the driver stepped on the breaks to slow it down.
Suddenly, he felt a powerful jerk go through the vehicle when all breaks froze and locked the wheels. The slippery state of the road caused it to slip and fall over with a load crash.
"What the hell is going…." James got out before a deafening sound of the crash followed by the violent jerks that passed throughout the entire car when they were pressed through grade-crossing barrier.
All provisions in carry bags flew around them and smashed the instrument panels.
Slowly, the car fell over and the Waltwilths found themselves hanging upside-down in their safe-belts, aching all over and soaked in food.
Elinoré was the first to recover from the shock.
"WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE JAMES!"
She furiously pressed on the switch that held the safety-belt locked but it refused to let go.
"Shitshitshitshit..shit…" James cursed and grabbed the seat, lifting himself up a little to ease the pressure on the belt.
His trembling hand finally found the switch and it let go.
He fell down with a hard thud but collected himself as quick as he could and began to help Elinoré out of the seat.
"Hurry... We must get out..." She whined, trying to pull herself up to make it easier for him.
"I'm trying!" He barked harsher than he had expected.
"Ouch!" At last, the belt released her and she fell down over him.
James kicked hard on the car-door next to the driver's seat and it let go, opening itself widely.
"Come on!" He hissed, just as a familiar shrill sound from the rails went up through the roof of the car.
A powerful light from outside lightened up the entire inside and their pupils shrank.
"Elinoré..." He gasped.
"Jam..."
In the next second a horrible crash exploded through their heads and their eyes didn't see anything anymore.
"Holy Maria!" The male Lorry-driver shouted as he ran after the express train which took it sweet time to stop.
Load metallic shrieks echoed into the snowstorm and a fire exploded inside the car's coupe as burning metallic splinters lightened the leaking gas.
21:01
Detective superintendent Carl Adams sometimes hated his work.
He had been forced to stand in the sharp smell of fried metal and bodyparts and hear reports from the technicians.
Endless reports about the victims, the story about the accident and etcetera.
But worst of all was when he had to visit the remaining relatives and tell them.
This time, they had to tell a four years old boy that he had no parents anymore and that would be hellish enough.
His female colleague Ashley Eubanks accompanied him in the patrol car that evening on their way to visit the family Peterson.
About one hour earlier had a Weronica Peterson called the local police-station and reported that James and Elinoré Waltwilth hadn't showed up and she had not even been able to reach their mobile phone.
After they had been tracing the license plats on the damaged BMW and technicians had found two bodies were there hardly no doubts that it was the Walthwilths.
Great.
"Here we are. Greenhill Avenue." Ashley commented and Carl shook his head to revive from the deep thinking, slowed down and did an illegal parking in front of a middle-large red house made out of pinewood.
Two cops got out of the car and walked up the gravel path and Carl recognized a movement in one of the enlightened windows.
Next time the door opened and a rather tall woman with straight blonde hair and a ravaged face appeared in the opening with light streaming out around her body, creating a shadow on the porch step.
The two strangers removed their hats.
"Good evening. Mrs Renshaw I assume? I am superintendent Adams and this is my colleague Ashley Eubanks. May we come inside?"
She nodded stiffly and made way so that the two officers could step inside.
A broadshouldered man with brown short hair came out from an opening to the right. His face was troubled.
They introduced themselves to him.
"What has happened?" Henry Renshaw asked them in a matter-of-fact tone. "I want to know it, straight and easy without any explanations or sluggishness. Speak!"
Carl Adams was silent for a while and felt the silence thicken until it threatened to stifle him.
"Your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Waltwilths were involved in a car-accident about two hours ago. A collision made the car break through grade-crossing barriers and they never had a chance to get out. I am deeply sorry."
Weronica put a hand over her face and big tears began to roll out of her eyes.
Henry Renshaw on the other hand seemed to be totally unaffected although anyone could see in his eyes that the emotions were wrestling each other.
Nobody could find out anything to say.
Every word seemed to be useless, without meaning and filled of blaspheme.
"What is going to happened to the boy? To Timmy?" Henry Renshaw asked at last.
"I cannot say since I am not any social worker." Said Adams with big effort. "But I believe it's best to let the boy stay here over the night and you will be contacted tomorrow."
Henry nodded slowly.
Suddenly, a little shadow appeared on the hallway wall.
All adults turned around and looked at Tim who was standing in the doorway Henry had entered the hallway from.
His face was pale and confused.
"Where are they?"
Silence.
"Where are they?" He repeated.
Weronica quickly wiped the tears off with her sleeve and shot a quick glance at Ashley.
The other females mouth formed the word SHOCK.
"Where are mom and dad? Where are they?"
The blonde woman wrapped her arms around the little kid with nutbrown hair and embraced him.
"I'm sorry, Timmy. I'm so sorry..." She whispered and caressed his hair. "So sorry..."
Carl Adams had been right.
Next day, a female social worker called the Renshaws and talked with Henry for over half an hour.
Shortly thereafter had Henry a adult-to-adult talk with his wife.
"She says there is a possible orphanage that can take him in after the Christmas weekend." He said in low-voiced. "A woman from the social welfare service will arrive at 11:00 so that we can talk about this."
She nodded and sipped on the coffee.
Timmy was still in shock and very hard to establish a contact with when the social worker arrived. A middle-aged woman with steelgrey hair and thick glasses named Agda Creves.
She was very objective and asked them if they could look after the boy for another week.
They agreed.
At first, she asked them if they had thought about adopting Timmy into their family but Henry said no.
"May God and Tim forgive me for this, but we can't. We have Peter and Anja already and we know that we won't have time. I don't know how we will ever be able to explain this to him... We just can't."
Mrs. Creves nodded understanding and wrote the answers in her notepad.
"If you would happened to change your mind, I want you to contact me as soon as possible."
"Of course, of course."
December the 31st, 1998
10:15
"I wonder if we haven't made a decision we will live to regret." Wictoria said to Henry as they watched Timmy walk down to the cab that New Year's Eve, accompanied by two workers from the social welfare board.
He didn't answer and went back inside.
December the 28th, 1998
15:54
Four persons were sitting in a livingroom in a rather luxurious apartment in the more central parts of Chicago.
First there was a tall and bald man from CIA called Patrick Wayne, then a child psychologist named Evans Jansen, a lawyer named Spencer Schwartz and at last a female from the local government's committee for childcare.
Her name was Rita K. Wicker and it was obvious that she and Patrick knew each other from before.
"He will survive this." Said Evans and meant Timmy. "You can't imagine what a great ability children posses to work things like this one out. But I am worried that he might be at that institution too long."
"That depends on if we can find some proper surrogate-parents." Answered Rita.
She had a voice Evans didn't like at all.
It was too cold, sharp and demanding.
The kind of a voice you can expect hearing from a general in a concentration camp.
"I would like to ask you, Mr. Spencer, what the last will of the Waltwilths say?"
"Oh, I apologize, I almost forgot." The lawyer said quickly and opened an envelope, pulled out the papers and gave each person a copy. "I guess you can read the text yourselves."
Five minutes later had they been reading through the document that was very clear on every point.
Almost all furnitures and the house were going to be sold, and the receipts were going to be placed into bank accounts.
The remaining things were supposed to be stored in a warehouse until Tim had reached the legal age and could do whatever he wanted with them.
"Then, there is also that safe-deposit mentioned. It belonged to Mr. Waltwilth himself and can only be opened by his child."
"Isn't that cryptic." Patrick commented.
"Not really. You know what might be stored in there. Photos, family jewellery and things like that. Access to it required both a password, a key and a retina-scan…"
"All that for some family things? You don't believe that yourself, right Mr Schwartz?"
"What I believe or not, is not relevant in this situation. I am paid to protect Timmy Waltwilth's legally property against all hands, and that is what I am going to do."
"My advice is that we leave him out of all these matters until he has grown older and put this pain behind him." The psychologist put in gravely. "I don't understand why this discussion is even brought up?"
"An expert on physiology and parapsychology might have some interesting documents in his safe deposit, wouldn't he Mr. Jansen? Why do you think the government has rented us this exclusive place to discuss such a simple matter as an orphan child?"
"Well, I don't want to get involved in any dirt!"
"You are already in it then. If you two gentlemen believe that this is a coffee party where we discuss which ball we were at last time, then you're wrong."
"We are gonna be as clear as possible, Mr. Schwartz and Mr. Jansen." Rita spoke in that ice-cold voice. "Our employers want the contents in that safe deposit, the sooner the better. We can't reach it the child doesn't allow us to. That is why we ask of you both to try to convince him about this and tell us where the keys are. If he would happened to die, which we certainly don't want, the box will not fall into the hands of our employers earlier than 2020. That is to long and we don't have time to wait. Do you understand?"
An ominous silence hung in the air until the lawyer got up on his feet.
"I don't want to be involved in any of these Gestapo doings. Count me out of it! I have done my part in this meeting."
"Sit down, Mr. Schwartz." Said Patrick in a soft voice, now with a gun in the hand.
The lawyer froze and he stared at the man's unemotional face for a flashing second before slowly sitting down.
Patrick smiled and waved with the gun.
"Does it have to be any clearer than this?" He asked.
FBI-report: #DE919-594-316
Thursday, 17/6 1999
Name: Waltwilth, Timothy Adrian Leopold
Age: 5
Date of birth: 29/1/94
Date of case: 13/6/1999 OR 14/6/1999
Status: missing
Last seen: The orphanage 'Rosegarden' 21:00 13/6/99
The case: Disappeared from his room during the night between June the 12th and 13th, sometime between 21:00 and 07:00. No children have seen him leave his room and/or the building. Upon examination by the local police was it reported that all doors were locked safely. No trace of fights in the rooms. Security cameras were fully functional upon examination. No unauthorized persons have been seen around the room of the disappearance. After proper examination has the management established that all employees have acceptable alibis.
Suspicion of crime: N/A
Summary: Enigma
And the real story may begin...