Labyrinth

Chapter One

"This is not good. Not good at all." At least they weren't shooting… yet. But all those blue lights and sirens had been joined by numerous, ominous black cars. Ricochet let one hand slide from its grip, just long enough to jostle the suicide-shift up a notch. Sparkle's engine deepened in tone, and together they easily began to pull away from the pursuing vehicles. With a twitch of her thumb on the handlebar, she activated the comlink. "Just who was that guy, Sis?"

"Don't care." Steel wasn't even trying to pretend that she was calm. That rattled Rico more than the potential deadly response the human authorities had. "Just lose the humes." Steel's radio picked up the scream of tires and rending of metal as someone near by crashed. "Lose 'em fast."

Rico breathed an affirmative and cut the comlink. She refused to acknowledge that she was scared, as the fear would only hurt the situation. Breathing short and fast, she gunned Sparkle through the evening streets of Baltimore. Keeping every running light off, she used the digitized readout on the interior of her helm for guidance. Cutting the wrong way up a one-way street, she redlined past lines of traffic, leaning low behind her chopper's handlebars. A few sirens cut short with the sound of screaming metal and whining tires; Rico winced and hoped that the humans had survived the fiery wrecks.

"Sit rep, sissy?" Rico asked, voice shaking. The sirens were fading into the night as the humans chose the priority of wounded civilians over her mad flight.

"Calvert and Orleans. Too many." Steel was breathless over the comlink, growling the words through clenched teeth.

Rico didn't bother to answer, instead she simply hit her front brakes and gunned the gas. Sparkle's rear tire smoked on the pavement as the bike swung around in a circle. Releasing the front brake caused the rear tire to bite, and Sparkle to shoot forward, front tire lifting up in a wheelie.

"Rico, hurry up! Aww, shit!" Steel's com transmission sent through the hiss of anger as well as the symphony of squealing tires and blaring sirens. Suddenly, a roar of metal tore across the speakers, so loud it left Rico's ears ringing.

"Sis?" Rico was answered only by a blast of static. After a few tense heartbeats, a groan of pain rolled over the broken link. "Hold on, Sis. I'll be there in just a minute!"

Static again. Then the sharp bark of Steel's sidearm. Rico rounded the corner of Calvert and Orleans streets at top speed, only to pull up hard on all brakes, skidding sideways to a stop. She held her breath waiting for the police and suits to turn in her direction. They remained silhouetted against the blue and red lights. Walking her bike backwards slowly into the shadows once more, Rico began to magnify the scene through her helmet.

The side of the Baltimore Sun building was scorched from the explosion. The melted slag at the base of the building was a mess of black and white police cruiser and twisted matte metal of a ebony motorcycle. Between the bulk of the cruisers used to cordon off the area, Rico spotted three limp shapes being carried from the wreckage. Two humans, and … Steel.

Ricochet's heart hammered hard in her ears. Sparkle began to back up once more, slowly rolling so that neither the motorcycle nor the stunned rider would attract any unwanted attention. The motorcycle's AI beeped softly at its rider; Rico bit back a harsh sob, shaking her head. She couldn't dive into that gathering of humanity. Rico knew she couldn't take on that many humans on her own.

Thumbing the comlink again, Rico set it to scan through various frequencies, until she began to pick up snippets of the police dispatch. Hearing a description of her motorcycle, and being identified as a potential 'second shooter', Rico slowly idled away from the crash scene. She continued to listen even as she began to drive out of the city, taking mental notes of just where her sister was being taken.

She knew she needed help, and she knew exactly where to turn.

The rain had started less than four hours before the Cubs game was scheduled. The heavy downpour had not only cancelled the ball game, but it lay a damper on the entire city as it pelted down. No one was paying attention to Vinnie's sulky mood, much less attempting to bait him out with a good fight. Modo was too busy polishing Lil' Hoss of the mud that she'd gained from the simple ride from scoreboard to the garage. The shop floor was filled with Georgie Brown's latest hot picks of the week, giving Modo the perfect way to ignore Vincent.

Throttle however was in the back office, leaned over the back of Charley's chair while she clicked her way around the internet. Normally, a rainy day would provide them with the distraction of cooking up new weapons, or trying to keep the boys out of trouble, but Throttle was much more concerned with a game of connect-the-clues.

Charley had five or six browser windows open, and she kept flipping through them as directed by Throttle. When she had finally finished reading the full article she had highlighted, she glanced up at the Martian. Throttle pulled his specs off to rub thoughtfully at the small ache between his eyes.

"There's a pattern here, and we're just not seeing it." He muttered, before leaning forward again. Reaching one arm over Charley's shoulder, he took control of the mouse. "See. Eight influential men and women over the last three years. Corporate heads, philanthropists, even an archaeologist."

"Nine," Charley corrected softly. "Counting Ambassador St. Pouligny."

"Right. And he's the only one that we're sure was Plutarkian. If we could just find pictures for the others…" Throttle sighed again, straightening to pace to the other side of the office. "They all started in North Dakota, with the head of Testouri Industries. After that, we've got what… no real discernable trail. Jumps from east to west in a matter of months."

"But they've all been hushed up." Charley pointed out. "Which really screams Plutarkian, or… cover up."

"Right." Throttle started to continue, but the garage entrance bell rang distracting them both. Charley pushed herself to her feet, making for the door, while Throttle drew back a little to give her room. They both hoped that the Mice in the front had enough sense to get out if it wasn't one of the regulars. Before Charley could even reach her office door, she heard the unmistakable sound of Modo breaking into a sprint. Flinging the door wide, she was witness to a leather-clad, helmeted female collapse into Modo's grasp.

Looking up helplessly, Modo found Charley's gaze first. "Charley-ma'am, I think she's hurt…"

Throttle followed the mechanic as she headed for the stricken woman. Vinnie pulled himself away from the window to join Throttle. The younger Mouse was wringing his hands together, as though he were nervous. Throttle gave him a nudge, and a questioning tilt of his head.

Vinnie suppressed a shiver that started down at the end of his tail. "She… she said my name, man." Curiously, Vinnie took another few steps forward, while Charley worked on the chin strap of the helmet.

"Huh?" Furrowing her brow, Charley ran her fingers along the strap again. "Fur?" She found the clasp easily the second time, and unsnapped it. Modo held the woman's shoulders up, while Charley worked the helmet off. When the unconscious woman's head fell back against Modo's shoulder, he swore softly under his breath.

"She's soaked." Charley glanced up to see three astonished expressions surrounding her. They were all staring at the limp Mouse in Modo's arms. "Throttle. Throttle. Get the cot in the back. Vinnie, blankets, and… and towels."

Modo's mouth worked for a few minutes, trying to find something to say, even as Charley made him help peeling the drenched leather jacket off her. She was just a little thing, and Modo worried over hurting her inadvertently. When Throttle had the cot set up, Modo took his time in transferring her over. Piling the blankets at the foot of the cot, Vinnie leaned forward slightly to stare at the Mouse.

"Recognize her at all?" Throttle asked quietly, drawing Vinnie away. Charley continued to strip the soaked clothes off the Mouse in the meantime, bundling her up in layers of blankets as she went.

Vincent shook his head, but didn't say anything aloud. There were a thousand reasons that she could have known his name, they had been practically celebrities on Mars after all. She looked familiar, as though he could have known her from bumping into her on a street, or maybe even a mission.

Modo joined them, shooed away by Charlie. He leaned against the door and sighed softly. In the relative silence, the rain beat against the roof like a thousand marching feet.