Hey you guys.
Thank you so much for the reviews!
So, here's the first real chapter of the story.
Enjoy and feel free to leave a review, I'm dying to know what you guys think of it.
Ciao!
Chapter 2
There's no peace.
Only war.
It will not cease.
Only grow.
Two hours earlier...
With shrieking brakes, the bike came to a halt.
Her rider, a grey-furred male Martian Cave Mouse, opened the visor of his helmet.
To take a good look at what he was seeing.
And when he realized where he was looking at, his heart dropped.
It seemed like a logical response.
But those who were close to the gray-furred mouse knew it was everything but logical.
Because he was no mouse to frighten easily, nor was he easily impressed.
He was a well-trained soldier.
One of the best.
But seeing what was coming even gave the experienced mouse the chills.
For a moment, he just stood there, his body completely frozen.
He was almost mesmerized by the sight.
Perhaps shocked was a better word to describe it.
Then, he slowly lifted his bionic arm and pushed the button on his helmet to activate the radio.
"Modo to Stoker, over."
His voice was deep. Like a baritone.
It matched his impressive appearance; big, muscular and scarred.
The picture-perfect image of a soldier who had seen it all.
Up until now, that is.
His right eye, that wasn't covered with an eyepatch like his left eye, scanned the surrounding.
As he took in the upcoming treat, his heartbeat rose and goosebumps spread across his body.
"Stoker for Modo, what's your status, over."
The grey-furred soldier took a deep breath.
"Sound the alarm. Right now. We got a code red… over."
...
War strategies.
A subject one could talk about for hours and still have the feeling that there was something missing.
It was more than frustrating.
The responsibility that came with being a leader could be suffocating sometimes.
But the tan-furred mouse was used to it, and he carried this responsibility with him with pride.
It wasn't easy, but no one ever said that being a leader was simple.
Placing his hands on the table, he leaned forward and gazed at the map through his customized spectacles.
He knew where the enemy was hiding.
Now all he needed to do was to come up with a plan to lure them out and take them down.
That was the theory anyway.
A theory which portrayed simplicity, but make no mistakes.
Because in reality, a plan to attack was the antithesis of simple.
The plan had to be rock solid, otherwise, there would be too much collateral damage.
Too many lives would be put at risk.
All of a sudden, his heart skipped a beat.
War strategies.
It was nearly impossible to come up with a good plan.
But the tan-furred mouse now saw one.
It started to form in his head as his bionic eyes scanned the map.
But right before he could get a grip on it, the sound of a siren broke the silence.
He closed his eyes for a moment as he let out his breath.
Dammit.
So close.
He had been so close…
The radio, which he always carried with him everywhere he went, came to life.
"Stoker to Throttle, over."
With his eyes still fixed on the map, the tan-furred mouse brought the radio to his mouth.
"Throttle for Stoker, over."
His brains were still desperately trying to bring back the fragments of that's what's called a plan.
"Code red, rookie. Get the teams ready, pronto. Stoker out."
The tan-furred mouse slowly lowered the radio, the plan already gone up in smoke.
It wasn't necessary anymore.
There was no need to lure them out and take them down.
No, not anymore.
Code red.
The enemy was about to attack the base.
...
Push-ups.
Squads.
Burpees
Planking.
It wasn't that hard to tell how the white-furred mouse got his perfectly well trained and muscular body.
For a mouse who lived in a war, it was essential to be in good shape.
A mouse needed to make sure that he could outrun the enemy, that he could beat them before they got the chance to beat him.
In a nutshell: being in good shape could save lives.
For the majority of soldiers, this was a good enough reason to keep their body healthy and strong.
For the young mouse, however, it was nothing more but an additional advantage.
If one would ask him why he was this devoted, his answer would be plain and simple;
'To impress the ladies.'
The white-furred mouse placed his hands on the ground and pushed himself up.
Once in a handstand, he shifted his weight to his right hand.
This exercise required more than just strength.
Focus was even more important.
He bit his lower lip in concentration, trying very hard to focus on staying focussed.
Truth to be told, focus and concentration weren't the white-furred mouse his best qualities.
And yet, he managed to keep his balance.
Slowly, his left hand let go off the ground…
Maybe focus wasn't that important after all.
The will to do whatever it takes to be the best was sufficient.
But the sound of a siren broke him out of his already fragile concentration and as a result, his body toppled over.
His long tail lashed through the air, a last and feeble attempt to keep his balance, but the damage was already done and he landed on his back with a loud thump.
"Throttle to Vinnie, over."
The white-furred youngster jumped at his feet, his eyes searching for the radio.
Finally, he found it under a big pile of flares and grenades.
How the hell that thing ended up there was both a mystery as no surprise at all.
"Vinnie van Victory for Fearless Leader, over."
There was a short silence and he knew, he just knew, his leader and bro was rolling his bionic eyes now.
He happened to have that effect on others, sometimes.
"Get ready, we've got a code red, over."
A big grin almost split his face in half.
The silver mask, that was covering the scars on the right side of his face, moved along with every movement like a second skin.
Code red.
Oh yeah.
It was time to party.
...
Modo rushed through the barren desert, pushing his beloved bike to the limits.
The engine purred like a Martian Squirrel Bat being fed, having no trouble to work this hard in this heat.
Because it was hot. It always was.
At day, that is.
The nights were long, cold and full of solitude.
If Modo had to choose, he preferred the heath without hesitation.
He hated the cold. The darkness.
Most of all, he hated the deafening sound of silence that came with the loneliness.
Perhaps that was because it didn't match with his warm personality.
Because he may look threatening, his heart was one made in gold and therefore, he didn't do well on his own.
He was a people person, well… in his case a mice mouse.
His soft spot for women and children was the only thing that made him one dangerous mouse.
Because beware for those who insulted or mistreated a child or woman in his presence.
That lit his rage to unknown heights.
And even if it didn't happen that often, when it did, one could better run.
Run and hide.
But right now, he was the one who was on the run.
It was sheer terror that chased him, hunted him down to drive this fast back to the base.
Because he'd seen the threat that was coming their way.
A threat he knew they couldn't defeat.
Then again, it wasn't that there was a choice.
They didn't have the luxury to choose their fate.
Their fate was already sealed ever since the first day of the war.
You fight to protect what's yours.
Or you die trying.
There was nothing in between.
...
Throttle hastened through the small hallways of their base.
The base that was home to the Freedom Fighters.
A group of rebels, founded by Stoker.
The last group of Martian Cave Mice standing.
Mars her last hope.
The rest was fallen.
All of them.
Army.
Government.
The Guardians of Peace.
The Believers.
The non-Believers.
Everybody.
All gone.
It was up to the Freedom Fighters to save Mars of damnation.
They had their losses.
They had their victories.
The enemy was gaining ground, that he knew.
But giving up wasn't in the nature of Martian Cave Mice.
So they fought back with everything they had in them.
For years already.
But Throttle had a bad feeling about this one.
He couldn't fully explain why, but the sirene, which usually did nothing to him, now made a shiver running down his spine.
He felt distress, maybe even fear.
As he made his way to the garage, he tried to shake off this unpleasant feeling and gave orders to everyone he encountered at the same time.
The message was loud and clear.
All hell's about to break loose.
Prepare yourself to die.
...
Vinnie snatched a backpack from under his bunk and threw all the weapons he owned in it.
In a way, he had the unexplainable feeling that he needed to take everything with him.
Well, not entirely unexplainable.
One once told him that he had a slightly disturbing obsession with armaments.
He himself liked to call it… a passion.
Too much was never enough, that was his motto.
But there was this inexplicable urge to gather everything that he owned, everything next to his armory.
That wasn't much, though.
He'd lost about all he had in the war.
Weapons, however…
Weapons, he had plentiful.
So it didn't really came as a surprise that soon, the backpack was full.
His ruby red eyes looked at the remaining pile of grenades.
Then, he looked at the backpack.
Decisions, decisions…
One who lived in war had to deal with complex dilemmas like this almost daily.
The one more difficult than the other, of course, but that's another story.
The white-furred youngster then shrugged and threw out the rest of his belongings to use the space for more weapons and ammo.
A mouse needs to set priorities.
With the backpack on his back, he collected the leftover grenades and with his arms full, he started his journey to the garage.
He might die today.
But not without a fight.
Hell no.
If today was his time to leave this strange world, he would go down in a blaze of glory.
Biker Mice style.
...
Modo sped through the front gates of the base, yelling over his shoulder to the guards they needed to close them and let them stay closed till further notice.
They saluted and did what he said, but the gray-furred mouse was already gone.
After crossing the big courtyard, he entered the garage and his bike skidded to a halt, right in front of Throttle.
Modo pulled off his helmet and looked his friend and leader into his, behind glasses hidden, eyes.
"Modo, bro, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost", the tan-furred mouse asked worriedly when he saw the pale skin shining through his friends grey fur.
"I kinda did. Oh, momma, I've never seen anything like that", Modo panted, wiping off his forehead.
Throttle's worry grew. The fear on his friends face made him more than uncomfortable.
To be honest, he had never seen Modo this scared.
Usually, the person that was the casualty of the grey-furred giant's rare anger looked like this.
And it only confirmed what he was already thinking: something was very, very wrong.
"There's an army coming this way, an army ten times bigger than the whole Freedom Fighter group. Plutarkians. Rats. Sand Raiders…"
Modo swallowed with difficulty and grabbed Throttle's arm in an iron grip.
"They have Memphants, bro. Memphants."
Throttle's eyes grew big behind his glasses.
"What? But I thought Memphants were extinct…"
"We all thought that, but I saw it with my own eye. They have at least fifty of them."
A pang of fear made Throttle's heart skip a beat.
And another one.
Memphants.
Giant animals, with claws as sharp as razor blades, teeth even sharper and jaws strong enough to bite a Martian Mouse in half without putting some real effort in it.
"Are you sure?", another voice came from behind him and Stoker joined them, his brown fur bristled, his metal tail twitching.
Modo nodded.
"I may not be the smartest, but I ain't blind. I saw it. We're in for some serious trouble, coach."
"Good! I was starting to get bored around here."
All three of them looked up at the white-furred mouse who entered the garage. His face was hidden behind the huge pile of grenades that was in his arms.
But the tone in his voice gave away his excitement and they all knew him well enough to know that he was having a smile as big as the Cheshire cat chiseled on his face.
When Vinnie reached his cherry red racing bike, he dropped the armory on the floor as if it weren't bombs that could go off by the tiniest vibration.
The trio flinched and covered their heads with their arms, which was nothing more but a reflex as much as it was the most weak attempt to protect themselves in case one would go off.
As if arms made of fur, flesh and bones could protect them against the force of an explosion, or the burning heat of flames.
Throttle was the first one who peeked through his fingers, only to see that his youngest bro wasn't even close to being impressed and was now trying to figure out a way how to carry all the weapons with him on his bike.
"You've got enough firepower, punk?", Stoker asked his youngest pupil sarcastically.
"Hmmm, not sure. But my bike is only so big…", the white-furred mouse mused, rubbing his chin.
They all three rolled their eyes at the same time.
If this whole scene had taken place under any other circumstances, it would've been funny.
But there was no reason to smile, no, not even close.
And it was time that the white-furred loudmouth was informed about the gravity of the situation.
"Vinnie, this is serious, man", Throttle started didact, and he told what Modo had seen.
Vinnie froze when he heard 'army ten times as big'.
His eyes grew big when he heard 'Plutarkians, Sand Raiders and rats'.
His mouth fell open when he heard 'Memphants'.
He then looked at the three most important mice in his life and put a finger in the air.
"So, lemme get this straight. You're telling me that there's an entire platoon of stinkfish coming this way, along with the remains of the Martian Population, besides us of course, and some big ass beasts to attack the base, that there's no way we can defeat them and therefore there will be chaos, panic and disaster before we're all gonna get killed?"
"That's pretty much it, yeah", Throttle nodded.
Vinnie now rubbed his chin, a thoughtful frown between his brows.
But that soon changed and a grin so big appeared on his face.
"Aaaaooww, sounds like life as I love it!", he cheered with his high pitched voice and he pumped his fist in the air.
"Come on, bro's, why the long faces? Being bored to death ain't our way to die, man!"
Modo looked at Throttle, who looked at Stoker in return.
The brown furred leader of the resistance tabbed with a finger against his forehead, to make clear that in his humble opinion, the white-furred adrenaline junkie finally had lost his mind.
He himself wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty either, he even loved it to have a good fight from time to time, but this was different.
There was an actual chance that they might lose this one.
And oh boy, he was such a sore loser.
Even worse, this could be the end of them.
The end of Mars.
Sighing heavily, he grabbed his radio.
"I'll inform Carbine."
...
"I need snipers on the walls, along with a few men with bazookas. A group of five will defend the doors. The rest will drive out. Maybe we can stop them before they reach the base", a light grey-furred female mouse barked at the soldier who was waiting for orders.
The young male saluted and quickly rushed away to pass it through.
The female marched over to the four males.
"Carbine", Stoker nodded when she joined them.
"Stoker. Boys. Tell me, how long before they're here?", she immediately came to business.
"I think less than an hour, ma'am. Despite their numbers, they're moving pretty fast…", Modo answered polity because that's what he was.
Carbine thought about it, but when her gaze landed on Vinnie, she narrowed her eyes in annoyance.
"And what in the hell do you think you're doing?", she spit out.
The white-furred mouse, who was loading his bike full with weapons, froze.
He then looked over his shoulder, a shocked look on his face.
"I'm preparing myself for battle, what else?"
"Turning your bike into a bomb on wheels is not what I consider as proper preparation!"
Vinnie looked at his bike and then back at Carbine, now shocked that she could even say something like that.
"What? Too much?"
Carbine threw her hands in the air in frustration because of the ignorance of this young mouse.
"By all means, do your thing. Why should I even care if you ride into battle with a bike being as susceptible as a goddamn land mine? Heck, you probably pull it off too, knowing you. And knowing my luck, you ain't that easy to get rid of."
Some might feel offended by these hard words, but not Vinnie.
'Not easy to get rid of' was, next to music to his oversized ears, one of the biggest compliments you could give him.
He, therefore, shot her one of his most charming smiles, to show her his gratitude.
"What can I say? It's a gift, doll."
Carbine clenched her fists, being too close to losing her patience.
It was no secret that she wasn't that fond on the young white-furred mouse.
She was one who had discipline. One who lived her life with, how she liked to call it herself, military precision.
He, on the other hand, was a loose cannon.
Many times already, he had caused dangerous situations whereby not only his life but also those from many others were put at risk.
If it was her calling the shots, he was long gone already. But not only she wasn't the leader, Stoker apparently saw something in the kid and since he was the one who was leading this whole, in her eyes, bunch of misfits, the young mouse was free to stay.
Times were hard for the former General.
But the army was gone. All there was left were the Freedom Fighters.
And because sitting still and doing nothing while the world she once knew was fallen apart was not her cup of tea, the choice had been made for her.
If she wanted to fight, wanted to do something useful instead of running or dying, the Freedom Fighters were her only and last option.
So she had joined them.
That was a few years ago now and still, she wasn't able to get used to their, sometimes sloppy, way of working.
But by the looks of things, her suffering would soon come to an end.
Death was close and in light of that fact, the light grey-furred female decided the young mouse wasn't worth her now precious time.
So, she took a deep breath and focussed her attention at Stoker.
"Everybody is ready if you are. You only have to say the word."
The brown furred mouse nodded as a shadow flickered across his face.
His eyes wandered through the garage, watching with a heavy heart how all the Fighters were getting themselves ready.
Every single one of them he had selected on both skills and willingness to do the right thing.
He knew them all, and not only by name. Everything that was needed to know, he knew.
They were important to him.
All of them.
They were his responsibility.
His family.
When his gaze landed on Throttle, Modo and Vinnie, his heart ached even more.
He wasn't one that played favorites, nor he told lies.
So truth to be told; these three had a special place in his heart.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was getting old.
And for those who were living in a war for so long, settling down and having kids was out of the question.
But these three… they felt like the sons he never had.
He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't go around the fact that there was something special about them.
The three of them working together was the perfect mix with deathly Martian thunder as a result.
Many battles were won because of them.
Won in the name of Mars.
And now…
Now he was gonna send them out to die.
But it soon didn't matter anymore.
Because soon, Mars was going down.
Soon, Mars would be gone.
Later on, Mars would be forgotten.
There would be nothing left.
Not even history books to tell their stories, to keep their legacy alive.
No trace of what remains, no stones to mark the graves.
Nothing.
His gaze eventually landed on Carbine's face.
And after taking a deep breath, he gave the signal.
"Let's rock and ride, ladies and gentlemice. Mars needs us."
...
The sound of silence.
It was deafening.
Strange, how the sound of nothing could press against the eardrums.
How it even managed to produce a nagging headache.
The Freedom Fighters were lined up a couple of miles away from the base.
It was an impressive sight, but not seen by those who were standing there, in the sizzling heat, waiting for death himself to take them away.
Nobody said a word.
All were being consumed by the flashing images of their own lives in front of their eyes.
Moments of joy.
Moments of misery.
The mistakes they made.
Love.
Friendship.
War.
Throttle opened his bionic eyes as he slowly let out his breath.
Seeing the cloud of dust in the distance, announcing the by Modo called Army of Death, he felt unusually calm.
The fear was gone and for now, there was only resignation.
He'd lived his life the fullest.
Of course there were mistakes. Things he wished he'd done differently.
He glanced at Carbine for a moment, but then looked back at the cloud of dust.
Mistakes were part of life, whether one liked it or not.
How to deal with your mistakes took precedence over making them.
There was a lot you could say about the tan-furred mouse, but one thing was for sure; he'd learned from his mistakes.
His whole life, he'd at least tried to do the right thing.
And therefore, he was now standing here with pride.
Modo looked up to the sky, his heart now calm again.
Once a mouse accepted his upcoming death, there was no space left for fear.
There was, in his case, only love.
Although the love came with sadness.
Sheer sadness about the ones he had lost.
His sister.
His cousin.
His nephew.
His father.
And on top of it all…
His beloved mother.
Everything he'd done in his life was to make his mother proud of him, before and after her tragic death.
He was everything she once stood for.
And therefore, he was now standing here with pride.
Vinnie leaned forward on his bike, drumming his fingers on the windshield.
His body had started to produce adrenaline from the moment he'd heard that siren.
That was now, give or take, an hour ago, and the level in his blood was now raised to an extraordinary height.
Therefore, he was restless.
More than restless.
His heart fluttering in his chest, every muscle in his body tight as a drum, his breathing shallow, it all meant only one thing; his whole body was ready to rumble.
Body and mind.
There was no looking back, only forward.
The only thing that mattered was what was to come.
The past is the past and there's nothing a mouse could do about it.
That was how he lived his life.
And that was how would die.
He was the youngest member of the Freedom Fighters.
One of the best, too.
That was nothing more but a fact.
It was a status he'd worked hard for because he knew hard work paid off.
And therefore, he was now standing here with pride.
Loud drums echoed over the stretched out desert, announcing the presence of the rats.
It was an ancient war ritual in their culture, known for over more than a thousand years. A technique used to strike fear into the hearts of their enemy.
A successful technique it was.
The sound was more than terrifying.
Modo wasn't kidding when he said this army was a big threat.
The Martian desert was big.
Humongous.
But the army that was marching towards them did manage to make it feel small.
All of a sudden, the desert became claustrophobic.
The threat breathed by the army took away all the oxygen.
More than over a thousand pair of feet, fins and paws stamping in the red sand made the ground trembling.
It made the mice more than nervous.
Who knew what was gonna happen?
They all assumed the worst, no exception.
So perhaps a proper goodbye was in place now.
"Well, bro's, it's been surreal", Vinnie said while looking at the army that was coming closer and close, for once being serious.
"It was both an honor and pleasure to fight side by side with you guys", Throttle told his two comrades who were lined up next to him.
"Same goes for me. You two are the closest that comes to family in this world that's turned upside down", Modo agreed and he raised his fist.
"May we meet again."
"May we meet again", Throttle and Vinnie answered in unison as they bumped their fists against Modo's.
Bro's forever, till death do them part.
Stoker sat on his bike and watched the group of Freedom Fighters at his left.
His family.
His legacy, no matter if it would live on or not.
Determination was written on their faces, but fear was seen in their eyes.
They were willing to die for their planet.
Each one of them was brave.
More than brave.
But no one ever said that looking death straight into the eye was easy.
Seeing it stare back was even more terrifying.
Fear walked hand in hand with devotion.
One could not be brave without being scared.
The brown furred leader now looked at his right, seeing how the Army of Death came closer and closer.
Letting out his breath, he closed his eyes for a moment.
It was time.
His eyes flew open as he revved his bike, the engine roared loudly when he opened the gas.
Driving by his lined up comrades, he cleared his throat.
"Freedom Fighters! Once again, Mars needs us. Once again, we're forced to fight for our freedom. Fighting for our right to live. Our right to exist!"
Every mouse he came across, he looked straight in the eye.
To let them know he truly believed in them.
That he was grateful for having them fighting by his side.
To thank them for being brave.
"So we will fight! And we're gonna do that together! Because we are Martian Mice! And we are born to ride free... together! Enemies may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!"
The whole group was cheering at the brown furred leader who was now at the end of the line.
He turned around and once stopped in front of the whole group, he could see how everybody was getting all hyped up.
Good.
"We may die today. But when we do, at least we died fighting for our right to exist! For our freedom! And death is the only thing that can stop us! We don't run! We don't hide! Because when the going gets tough..."
"... the tough whip's tail!", the whole group roared in unison.
"That's right!", and Stoker popped a wheelie as he pumped his fist in the air.
"It may be the last time I'll say this, but fuck that..."
After turning his bike on only his rear tire, he now faced death.
But no time to be afraid.
It was time.
His bike landed on its front tire again as he took a deep breath.
"Freedom Fighters... ATTACK!"
And so they did.
Hollering loud, with the sound of more than over a hundred engines roaring loudly on the background, the Freedom Fighters drove straight towards the enemy.
Determined to win.
Prepared to die.
For Mars.
For freedom.
