A.N. Well, here we go! I have published this story before on a different site, but never here. If I screwed up the uploading in any way, then forgive me. I'm still learning the ropes. All characters that are Biker Mice from Mars characters belong to, you guessed it, the creators of Biker Mice from Mars. All other characters are mine. Without further ado...

The Searcher

"Aaaahoooww!" a shrill voice cried out.

Limburger grimaced and watched on the monitor as his three most hated enemies careened easily around his employed marauders, taking them out one by one and laughing and joking all the time. He didn't expect that his henchmen would actually win, of course; he had merely wanted to lure the mice out of their hole and into open land. Still, it was disconcerting to witness the easy annihilation of his personal army.

They were in the open space of a park, lured there by a "robbery" of a bank. The Biker Mice were only too willing to chase them down, most likely anticipating an afternoon of fun at his expense. Oh, how he hated them.

This time, however, they would surely get their due. An evil, self satisfied grin slithered over Limburger's lips as he lifted a small vial with clear liquid. Karbunkle had promised a quite intriguing result from this harmless looking flask. The hardest part was to get the contents into their systems…and that would surely be taken care of quite soon. He laughed softly to himself as he recalled his conversation with the mad scientist.

"Just tell me what it is, dear boy," he had said earlier, making little effort to hide his impatience.

"Oh, it's something quite different," the scientist had wheezed. "But I'll give you a hint. What is something that is not only infinitely stronger than any muscle bound villain that we throw at them, but also something that resides within themselves?" Limburger had stared at the scientist and was about ready to eject him from his office when it dawned on him. He had ordered the robbery ruse and armed his henchmen soon after.

Now he strolled to the large window that gazed over the city. He was so close to owning it, he could feel it. A voice startled his dreaming and he turned to the monitor.

"Should I launch the attack now, O Cheesiness?" Karbunkle asked in his ingratiating whine.

"Go ahead," Limburger replied calmly. He turned away and grinned again.

What was stronger than brawn and yet resided within?

The mind.

"Whoa-ho, don't look now, but you got a mouse on your tail!" Vinnie exclaimed, whipping behind one goon. He reached out and grabbed the man by the pants, then flung him into the bushes a few yards away. Throttle chuckled, taking out an enemy himself, but he was unsettled.

"Big fella," he called to Modo, "doesn't it seem like this is too easy?"

"Whaddaya mean?" Modo said, side swiping an oncoming thug with his metal arm.

"I mean, first of all, when is the last time that Limburger tried to rob a bank? Kind of forward isn't it?"

"Yeah, he's usually slimier than that. And these guys aren't fightin' too hard either," Modo said, his brow furrowed with thought.

"It's like they lured us here…it's like a trap!" Throttle said, raising his voice so Vinnie could hear. Vinnie snorted and blithely fired his engines.

"Aw, who cares? If Cheeseface wants to play, then well, let's humor the guy for once!"

"Doesn't sit right to humor him any…" Modo grumbled. Throttle, after punching out an approaching goon, nodded and revved his engine.

"Let's chase 'em off fast and blow this joint," he resolved. "Vincent! You hear me?"

"Aw, we haven't played around in ages!" Vinnie moaned. "No need to hold this mouse back, I've got it all under control!"

Famous last words, Throttle thought to himself, but had to admit that the area still seemed harmless. Perhaps Limburger was getting desperate and his weak attempt at robbery simply went wrong. Or perhaps…

"Hey, watch it!" Throttle suddenly shouted, veering sharply to the left. A small, sharp projectile had just been fired silently at him, and he barely missed it. "Vinnie! Big Fella!" Modo noticed and managed to deflect it with his gun-arm, but Vinnie, who was in the midst of gleefully sailing over his enemies' vehicles, caught the small object square in the chest. He gasped and landed his bike hard, barely managing to keep it upright. Quick fear flooded Throttle as he watched his younger bro clutch his chest in pain.

But then, after a few agonizing seconds, Vinnie straightened, pulled something from his fur and flicked it away. The grin he flashed them was as wide as always.

"No sweat bros, they can't take the Vin-man down that easily!"

"I hear ya bro, but it's still time to get this over with!" Throttle called.

"I second it," Modo growled, and opened his gun arm. Before they could launch a last attack, the thugs suddenly screeched to a halt, swerved around and rocketed away. The three mice looked at each other, puzzled.

"Well, I guess they had enough fun for today," Vinnie hooted, trying to retain his confidence despite his confusion.

"Guess so. Hey, why don't we celebrate with some grub at Charley's?" Throttle suggested.

"I barely worked up an appetite. But, who's gonna say no to some 'dogs and rootbeer?" Modo remarked. Vinnie merely gave his high pitched victory cry and wheeled his bike around, taking the lead.

"So, what was that thing that hit you, Vin? Does it still hurt?" Throttle called casually over the motors.

"Pshaw, me, hurt? It'll take more than a spitwad like that to knock me down!" Vinnie replied proudly. Throttle chuckled but continued to glance at him as they traveled home.

"Sweetheart, I'm hooome!" Vinnie called moments later, bursting into the garage. Charley peered past the hood of the truck that concealed her and rolled her eyes.

"Sheesh, Vin, why don't you speak up? I couldn't hear you that time," she said sarcastically, bending over the engine once more.

"What's wrong, babe, oil in your ears?" Vinnie teased, slinging his arm around her. Charley elbowed him in the gut, but her smile faded quickly at his sharp intake of breath. She looked at him, puzzled, but he merely made a face at her and retreated to the kitchen table.

"Afternoon, Charley ma'am," Modo said in his courtly way, before stuffing his face full of the steaming junk food. Charley wiped her hands with a rag and pulled up a chair.

"So, you guys save the day again or what?" she asked, helping herself to some rootbeer.

"Wasn't much to save," Throttle replied after swallowing. "Seems like Limburger's thugs tried to rob a bank, but they didn't put up much of a fight, and turned tail after…" he trailed off and shoved another hotdog in his mouth. Charley raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, but he pointed to his full mouth. She shook her head and rose from the table.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the day, besides not making a mess in my house?" she asked pointedly.

"Well, I dunno, but I'm feelin' in the mood for some Sweet Georgie Brown," Modo said with a grin, reaching over to the radio. Charley cringed.

"Ugh, I wish my ears really were full of oil," she moaned as the screaming sounds of the electric guitar filled the small room. Throttle and Modo whooped at the strains of one of their favorite tunes, but all of them stopped short when they saw Vinnie grimace with pain and swiftly cover his ears.

"What's wrong?" Modo asked, quickly switching the radio off. Charley stepped closer, her brow furrowed. Out of all of them, Vinnie always had the highest tolerance for noise, especially since he generally made the most noise.

"I just…I dunno. I have a headache or something," Vinnie mumbled, his voice sounding oddly subdued. Throttle frowned and peered at him. Vinnie's face looked drawn and a little vacant, and his eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. Suddenly he blinked and glanced up at his bros, his eyes focusing and regaining their normal expression.

"What are you all lookin' worried for? I'm fine, just a little headache. Crank it up again Modo," he said, but as he spoke his smile slid away and his face became blank again.

"Why don't you lie down, Vin," Charley said, reaching for his arm. "You don't look so good."

"Babe, I always look good. I…whoa…" Vinnie slowly slumped forward, and Throttle and Modo both moved at the same time to catch him.

"Come on, lil' bro," Modo said gently, easing him to his feet. Vinnie protested weakly, but they ignored him and pushed him carefully down on the sofa. He leaned back, his palms pressed against his eyes. Charley touched his forehead and was distressed to feel that his fur was damp with sweat.

"I'll go get a cool washcloth...Vinnie!" Charley suddenly gasped. "Your antennae!" All of them gave a start of surprise as Vinnie's antennae began to glow a soft red, the light slowly increasing. Throttle dropped down next to him.

"Vinnie? Look at me. What are you feeling now? Do you see anything strange?" he asked urgently. Vinnie suddenly reached out in front of him, grasping sluggishly at the air.

"What's going on? Who…it can't be…Rayna?"

"Huh?" Modo asked, looking around.

"Rayna? Is that you? Don't you see her? Look!" Vinnie cried, pointing at nothing. Charley eased down on his other side, and lowered his arm gently.

"Vinnie, no one is there. It's okay," she said soothingly, trying to keep a tremor of fear from her voice. She glanced at Throttle, her eyes asking questions.

"Vinnie, listen to me. Don't let yourself be pulled to the past. Stay with us. Fight it!" Throttle said urgently.

"Modo, what's going on?" Charley hissed, but Modo shook his head slowly, looking as confused and perplexed as she felt. Only Throttle seemed to have an idea of what was happening to their friend.

"I'm…I'm trying…I just can't…" All of them watched tensely as his face showed a struggle that none of them could comprehend. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his antennae glowed more brightly than ever.

"Whoa…I'm falling…I'm…bros, give me a hand here! Bros…Charley…where are ya going?" Vinnie called, his voice filled with uncharacteristic panic. Charley shuddered, having never heard fear in his voice before.

"I'm here Vin, stay with me," she urged, squeezing his hand. Vinnie looked at her with glazed eyes, sweat trickling through his fur.

"My head…it hurts…it…Charley…" Vinnie drew in a sharp breath, stared at Charley, no, through Charley with wide eyes. As Charley clutched his hand, Vinnie's eyes slowly rolled back in his head.

"No!" Throttle called, shaking his arm, but Vinnie relaxed completely into the couch, his eyes sliding shut. His breathing slowed and deepened, and his hand went limp in Charley's grasp. She drew her breath in and quickly placed her hand over his heart, but it was beating steadily.

"He's gone," Throttle said grimly, standing up.

"What…what do you mean? He's not…not dead!" Charley protested.

"Yes, his body is still here, but his mind is not."

"What do you mean? Where is he?" Modo demanded.

"His mind is no longer in the present," Throttle said cryptically. He glanced up at Modo. "Whether he wants to or not, he's become a Searcher." Modo's face registered with surprise and alarm, and though Charley didn't know the connotations of the word, she looked fearfully at the still, sleeping form of the young white mouse.