A/n: I do not own anything.

Thank you for the reviews, and sorry that it's taken me this long. Here is the latest installment of the Road Rage, where you too, can save the world while taking "behind the wheel."

The streets were quiet on this Saturday morning, as the daily hustle and bustle of the rest of the week was nonexistent. One could be cliché and say "nothing was stirring, not even a mouse." Unfortunately, there was someone else moving around.

A heavy set man in a purple suit looked out a window overlooking the streets of Chicago. Surprisingly, his tower had made it through Friday without getting destroyed. It seemed that those meddling Biker Mice had a habit of at least damaging his tower on Fridays. Then they'd let stand during the weekend, and then completely annihilate it on Mondays. It seemed the Biker Mice liked to either end or begin the week with a bang. (Pun not intended). He had made it through a week without any damage.

Not being able to see anything, the odious Plutarkian grabbed his binoculars off his desk and surveyed the rooftops for the meddling rodents. It was only seven o'clock in the morning, but he decided that it was never too early to watch for his enemies.

Satisfied that there was nothing out there but the customary pigeons, he went back over to his desk. He pressed the call button on his phone to call his henchman. After much fumbling and pushing random buttons he was able to call his henchman.

"Greasepit!" He bellowed from into the machine "Where are you?"

He was greeted by silence.

"Greasepit?"

No answer.

"GREASEPIT! IF YOU AREN'T IN MY OFFICE IN FIVE MINUTES YOU'RE FIRED!!!!"

This was responded by a loud crash and some choice expletives. "Be right in boss."

True to his word, the henchman appeared less than five minutes, rubbing his eyes. "Youse rang?"

"My dearest Greasepit, isn't a beautiful morning?" Limburger said taking a deep breath.

The oil covered buffoon scratched his head. "I guesses so. The radio guy says that the high is 70 degrees, low 53. Chance of rain is 10 percent." Greasepit ticked off the various predictions for the day. "Eugh…Sunburn index of 8. Pollen report is high."

"IF I WANT A FULL REPORT OF WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH THE WEATHER, I'LL WATCH THE WEATHER CHANNEL!!!!" Limburger snapped.

"I was just doing my job, boss," Greasepit said innocently.

"So you were, my dear boy, so you were," Limburger answered absent-mindedly, looking out the window of his tower.

"How should I take over Chicago today?" He mused.

Charley carefully opened the door to the mice's home in the Wrigley Scoreboard. She was greeted by at least three blaring alarm clocks, a cranked up television, and three snoring mice. Setting a small bag on the table. She grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and clicked off the blaring appliance.

"One down, six to go," she thought grimly. She walked into the room blaring rock music. She turned on the light, hoping that maybe he'd wake up. No, the inhabitant rolled and curled up in a ball clutching a teddy mouse. Charley chuckled and made a mental note to bring a digital camera for blackmail purposes.

Convinced that he wasn't going to wake up, Charley made her way back to the kitchen. Out of the bag that she brought she took out a yellow washcloth. She walked over to the sink and ran it under cold water. Not bothering to wring it out, she walked back the sleeping mouse's room. She carefully placed it on his face, and ducked as he swung like crazy.

Charley made a quick escape out of the room and watched from his doorway.

"YAAAHH! What? it? I… Enh… OW!" The white mouse cried as he fell out of bed. He sat up and picked the offending piece of cloth of his head and glared at it. He muttered a few explicatives and rubbed his head and bottom. Satisfied that he was awake, she moved on to the next room.

Charley entered the next room to the sounds of accordions. Strangely enough Modo was still sleeping soundly. "Modo?" She called, "Modo. Wake up."

"Enh… Meh? Charley Ma'am? Is that you?" Modo asked sleepily.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What are ya doin' here so early?"

"You've got that driving class, remember?" She reminded him.

"Oh, that. Completely slipped my mind," Modo said stretching "Glad you reminded me."

"No problem. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

She walked out of Modo's room and ran in to Throttle in the hallway. "Thought I ought to get up, lest you ambush me like you did Vinnie." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the muttering mouse who stormed into the bathroom.

"He'll get over it. Maybe he'll learn to get up when his alarm goes off the first time, then he'll lessen his chance of getting his face washed."

Throttle chuckled. The smell of hot dogs wafted into the room. "Smells like breakfast is done."

"Mmm…." Modo said, "It smells good."

"I can't see how you guys can eat this stuff this early in the morning," Charley said wrinkling her nose. She walked to the kitchen and started fixing plates of the bros' favorite food. Modo and Throttle followed her.

"Where's Vinnie?" She asked, noticing that the mouse hadn't made his stunning appearance yet.

"He's in the bathroom taking a shower, I think?" Throttle said, "But the water isn't running."

Right on time, Vinnie made his appearance. Looking rather disgruntled, he joined his bros at the table. "G'morning," He grumbled shoving a hot dog in his mouth and taking a swig of root beer.

"Well, aren't you just a bundle of sunshine this morning," Throttle chuckled.

"Yeah," Modo agreed, "Charley-girl even brought breakfast."

Vinnie glared at them both. Charley couldn't resist, "What happened? Did someone steal your teddymouse?"

Both Modo and Throttle choked on their root beer. "You sleep with a teddy mouse?" Modo chortled.

"Hahahaha….. Aren't you… a little… old?" Throttle asked between laughs.

"No," Vinnie lied "I don't."

Charley looked at her watch. It was a quarter to eight. "I really hate to break this up guys, but you'll going to be late for Driver's Ed."

"No worries Charley- girl, we can make it in fifteen minutes," Throttle said, standing up and pushing in his chair.

"Yeah," Modo agreed.

"We're the kings of speed," Vinnie boasted.

"Yeah, that's why people like you don't need a driver's license," Charley muttered.

"Alright bros," Throttle said putting on his helmet and revving the engines on their bikes.

"Let's Rock and Drive!"

"Oh boy," Charley said shaking her head as she watched them drive away into the morning. "The driving instructors are going to have their hands full."

A/n: After much delay, here is the next chapter. I can't thank those people reviewed enough. Please read and review. Ride free citizens!