I'm glad this was met with such success. Great reviews and I had like five people add this to their favorites. Woot!

Well since it was requested, I am writing more. Please keep in mind, I really have no idea where this is going. I'll imagine a plot will hit me about three in the morning when I'm trying to sleep and it will be so awesome and so cool that I'll have to force myself to get up and write it or be forever plagued with the idea that I forgot but will always remember how great it was.

Until then, it's random filler time!

So, I don't own the Biker Mice from Mars. They belong to Mars. I don't own Mars. That belongs to the Martians, or do the Plutarkians still claim the planet? Well may they burn in hell, whether they do or not.

Between a Rat and a Hard Place

2

Stilton's Castle was not what Nega would have expected. Mostly, it smelled nice. Not just that it smelled normal, but she could swear the faint waif of flowers followed her wherever she went. She'd never smelled flowers that often, and certainly never would have expected to find the scent so damn strong in the building owned by a Plutarkian. There were few things that smelled worse than those fish faces, and things like sewer pipes weren't even on the top of the list.

She'd heard that this particular Plutarkian was odd in comparison to his peers when it came to cleanliness, but when she'd arrived at the palace, she was beginning to suspect it was more than just washing with water instead of mud.

She didn't even want to be here. It was always in her policy to stay away from the Plutarkians as much as possible. Oh sure they paid, but that was about the only thing good about them. They spit on you when they talked, raw garbage was usually friendlier on the nose, and she just had a general dislike for people who had had much more luxury than she had when growing up. Plutarkians, at least the ones who oversaw the mining of planets, had all grown up with silver spoons shoved in their mouths.

Unfortunately, she hadn't much of a choice. The battle to take the city Grenburg hadn't been much of an accomplishment. The city had fallen, but only after loosing several soldiers, both Plutarkians and rats, buildings were ruined and the place looked as if it'd already been dug up by those damn drilling machines. Of course, she doubted Stilton cared much for the loss of soldiers, and the city was due to be 'processed' soon, but the communication towers that had been decimated was causing a bit of a problem.

With no way to just link in and tell the head Plutarkian of the success the higher ups in charge had decided they'd simply send someone to deliver the good news. Nega had drawn the short stick as she was one of the few ones in the lower ranks with transportation (she'd never seen the reason to get rid of the bike she'd 'liberated'). But as a sergeant in what barely qualified as an army, she wasn't so low in the food chain that she went unnoticed when these little chores that were important despite being annoying needed to be taken care of.

In other words, she was expendable but important enough to do play little messenger.

Recon jobs were the pits, but she supposed it was better than getting shot at. There had certainly been enough of that the last couple days.

She figured it'd be a quick in and out, tell him the good news, take whatever orders the Lord of Fins had back to the front line, and head back to her company before trashing the next place on the list. Easy thing. Fast.

"I know I don't have an appointment," she argued with the guard, "but I do have news for him. I'm on his damn payroll."

"Yeah," the overweight Plutarkian, who looked as ridiculous in purple spandex as a larger alien fish could, commented in a bored drawl. "You're on his payroll. So you can wait. He has other matters to cover right now."

"Oh why don't you shove it?" she snarled. "We're in a war right now and-"

"And as long as he isn't on the front lines, he couldn't care less," a voice drawled behind her.

She turned and saw a tall rat standing there, dark brown fur and a lean status.

"I'm sure you'll be informed when he's ready to see you," he said simply. "Until then, care to join me downstairs? There's a bit of a Rec room down there. Stilton is generous to keep him employees entertained."

She crossed her arms, but shrugged. Standing here to argue with an over grown flounder wasn't much her idea of fun, and if she had to wait, she might as well keep her mind occupied.

"Did you really think you were going to talk to Stilton just by strolling in and demanding to see him?" the rat asked as the two of the walked off. He led her to a set of stairs and they began to descend it.

"It's a message," she stated. "Grenburg was taken. There, took me five seconds to say it. Probably would have taken me less time to say it to him considering how bad I want to get out of here."

The rat snickered.

"I take it you don't spend much time away from the front line?" he asked.

"Gee, how'd you tell?" she asked in mock sweetness.

"Well most would be happy for the change of pace," he responded. "I'm Flick by the way."

"Nega," she answered. "Gods, I hope I can get back soon. This really isn't suppose to take too long."

"Ah, take a load off," he responded as they reached the end of the stairs. He opened a door to a room where several rats and hyenas were sitting around, tables and chair spread out in the room and at many of them a game of cards being played. She followed him to an occupied table after he grabbed a couple of drinks from the large fridge.

"You all have this much free time, then he's more generous than I thought," she muttered.

"He's too busy to notice. We have to take our time off when we can," he noted. "Things have been busy around here for the last few hours. Lot of activity, especially in the lab on the second from top floor."

"What's going on?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Some mice from that Freedom Fighter group were captured and brought in today," he answered. "Brought straight to Karbunkle."

"That psycho?" she questioned, disgusted. She'd heard many things about that guy, and none of them good. The Terrain saw everything as a guinea pig for him to play with, and apparently the term "lab rat" was pretty literal for some of her species that had run afoul him. He was the kind of guy that you told stories about to your kids to get them to go to bed at night, and he probably would've liked knowing that too, the twisted maniac.

"Yeah, he seems pretty happy to have them to play with."

"Play with?" she asked with a frown. "God, what's that sick bastard doing?"

"Apparently some improvements," he responded. "A lot of them were pretty hurt. He's adding some bionic parts."

"And the point of that is?" she asked after she sipped on her drink. "Seems kind of stupid to be helping them."

Flick chuckled.

"What am I missing here?"

"He's got this weird machine," he said in a whisper she supposed he thought was dramatic. "It's this brain-washing thing. Takes someone and makes them pretty much a willing slave to the Plutarkians. He's gonna use it on all of them."

"Sounds like a typical mad scientist," she muttered. "Does it work?"

"That's what's so funny about it," he said. "It's already been used. And the guy they got, well lets just say that if it worked on him, no one else is going to be able to resist."

"Who'd they use it on?"

"Stoker," he replied with a laugh. "Can you believe it? The leader of the Freedom Fighters is right here, and would be willing to lick Stilton's boots if ordered too. The only problem is he's been going around ever since the machine scrambled his brain, acting like he owns the place. He's still as arrogant as ever."

Nega blinked. Stoker was here? She hadn't seen him for nearly half-a-year and suddenly they were on the same side?

"Ironic," she muttered into her drink.

"Yeah, makes me glad to be on the Plutarkians side already," Flick stated. "I'm getting paid and don't have one worry about being turned into some kind of zombie for their cause. Hell, bet you when this war is won they kill every single one of those damn mice they enslave just for the fact that they opposed them in the first place."

Nega frowned. Honestly, that wasn't a bet she was willing to take on. Chances are he was probably right. And even if it wasn't, the alternative was being willing slaves for the rest of whatever, fighting for Plutark and helping take over planet after planet. It'd be merciful just to kill them off.

"I think I'll go," she said as she stood.

"Huh? Where you going?" Flick asked.

"Think I'll check the place out a little," she said. "That and yell at that guard to let me in. I know Stilton is busy, but the universe doesn't revolve around Plutark, and neither does this rat."

"All right," he said with a small wave. "See ya."

She was heading back to the top of the castle, eager just to give her report and leave, now more than ever. She didn't know why, but something about the whole enslavement thing didn't sit right with her.

It's not that she didn't think the mice didn't deserve it, it seemed like bad karma they'd deserved for a while considering what had happened to her and other rats. But there was something unsettling about the thought of anyone becoming slaves to the Plutarkians through a little process with a machine. What if the fish suddenly decided they didn't want to pay their mercs anymore? She was working for them for the time being for the sake of getting off of Mars, but only until then. She had no intention of letting them slap some kind of programming in her head to get her servitude for the rest of whatever.

She only passed a few others as she walked. She bit her lip as she looked around. The floor she was on just happened to have the lab the Flick mentioned. She wondered, was Stoker in there right now?

Though even if he was, she had no reason to go looking. If he was under the influence of brainwashing, what was there for her to really do? It sucked for him, but there was nothing to do for it really.

And they were technically on the same side now. Okay she was a willing traitor to Mars for the sake of some quick cash and he was a zombie, but they were still now both out to see the planet mined to dust. It'd be down right stupid of her to seek him out and say anything to him, and what was there to say anyway? Heck, for all see knew he was a brain dead, mumbling moron by now.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Okay, so she'd been wrong before.

She rolled her eyes and looked to Stoker. He looked no different than when she'd seen him last, before the fall of Brimstone and everything else that had been happening lately. He grinned just as much as he did when they were stuck in that blasted cave together. But there was a gleam to his eyes that she noticed. They were tinted green, and in the dim lighting, she could swear they were glowing.

"Nega," he said. "Never thought I'd see you again. What's shaking?"

If she hadn't heard that he'd been switched over to the other side she would have assumed he'd snuck in and pulled a gun out on him. That's just how damn normal he was acting.

"I heard you were here," she said. "I'm here to report to Stilton, and there were some rumors flying around."

"And you came to see me? That's sweet kid," he said, grinning and crossing his arms, leaning against the wall, cocky as ever. She noticed the slight swish of his tail and couldn't help but stare.

"What did that bastard do to you?" she asked all of a sudden. "What is that thing?"

"Oh this?" he asked and curled it in front of his body to let her see better. "An improvement by the good doctor. It's quite useful. And definitely going to be fun to use when I choke the rest of the resistance to death."

Nega wouldn't claim to know Stoker well. Hell, she didn't know him at all. But she knew this wasn't him. He didn't strike her as the type to enjoy hurting people, but the way he grinned at the thought of getting rid of his old comrades, it was no doubt from that machine.

"What happened to you was sick," she muttered.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said you've fucking lost your mind," she snapped. "I don't know what the hell that freak Karbunkle did to you, but it's turned you into everything you hated. You're nothing but a puppet, and the fact that you can still think only makes you even more pathetic."

"Pathetic?" he asked, his friendly demeanor now gone. He was off the wall, standing over her and frowning, fists clenched. "I know who I serve. Plutark deserves this planet, hell this universe. It's their right. You said yourself that if I were smart I'd join up like you had."

She shook her head and allowed herself a mirthless little laugh.

"I'm getting something out of it," she responded. "And once it's all over, I intend to get out of here and never have to look at a slimy Plutarkian again. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a little pet. You're not getting anything. And now I plan to report and get the hall out of here."

He moved so fast she'd barely had time to whip out her gun before it was slapped out of her hand before she had a good grip on it. It clattered to the stone floor as one hand shoved against her throat, slamming her against the wall. Her head smacked into the crude brick and dazed her, small flashes of white light dazzling in her eyes.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, rat," he snarled. "I work for Plutark, but that doesn't mean I take lip from anyone else."

She twisted underneath him, shoving her knee into his gut. He let go with a grunt of pain and she yanked out her knife.

"Look," she huffed, trying to hide the fact that she was a little out of breath. Stoker was bigger than her and stronger too, a lot stronger. She'd had the wind knocked out of her from that little shove of his and knew if he jumped her again it wouldn't be so easy to fend him off next time. "I don't really care what side your on or why. Hell, even if I did what's it matter? You're being used, and then you'll probably be thrown away, but it doesn't affect me, so it's the end of the conversation, isn't it?"

He scowled at her but then scoffed and shook his head.

"Little merc isn't worth my time anyway," he muttered.

"Glad to know to know my place in your priorities," she answered before a fat Plutarkian came around the corner.

"You," he snapped at Nega. "Are you the one from the front lines? I believe you have a report to make to Lord Stilton."

"Yes," she answered.

"Hurry up then!" he yelled. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting. You should have just stayed downstairs where we could find you."

"Of all the…" she muttered as he stalked away. "Gods, I hate these guys."

She looked to Stoker, but he was already walking away. She shrugged and replaced her weapons. There was nothing to do for it. Things were the way they were. It's not like there was anything she could do… even if she did owe him her life.

"Shit," she muttered as she proceeded to the top floor. "I'm a rat, I shouldn't even have a conscious and now it's bothering me about something I can't fix anyway? What am I, a cosmic joke to the universe or something?"

If Stilton's castle was a surprise, it was nothing compared to the Plutarkian himself. She didn't think she'd ever seen so many ruffles in her life, and the way he would randomly wipe things off with his lace handkerchief was the most ridicules thing she'd ever heard of from one of these guys. His smell was even worse. While not the traditional 'animal left in the road to die on a hot day' smell, it instead seemed like he had bathed in perfume, and the strong smell was all but making her eyes water.

"I understand that you have news for me," he drawled.

"Yes sir," she responded, wanting to escape the odor more than anything else in the world. "Grenburg has fallen, after a three day siege. However, we lost all communications, and the repairs may not be done for a week. Do you have orders for what the company should do now?"

"Mmm," he muttered. "Keep the city secured. I don't want it to become a hassle like Brimstone did. Efforts taken to overthrow that city months ago, just to have to fight those resistant fighters to keep it. Thank goodness some of the mice in the government understand currency is the answer to these sort of arguments, but I have no intention of having to pay more when we're so close to finishing with this planet."

"Understood," she said and bowed lightly. Manners were best when you wanted a short conversation. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Wipe your feet next time you come into my presence," he complained.

'I'd like to wipe them on your face,' she thought merrily before the door burst open.

"What's the meaning of this?" Stilton yelled at the Plutarkian guard. "What do you want?"

"My Lord," he gasped. "Deep Pocket just radioed in. He's coming with a mouse, a General from the Martian Army. Also, there's some problems in the labs. The mice are tearing everything up!"

"Well, do something about it then!" he shouted.

"I'll just take my leave," Nega said, not caring if anyone was listening to her or not. Whatever was going on, she hadn't much interest in it. She slipped out the door before either Plutarkian even noticed her and was running down the stairs as fast as her legs could go.

Instincts were kicking in and telling her that something was about to hit the fan, and she preferred to be away from the place when the sirens stared going off. After all, it's not like she was being paid to guard this place. She had a war to get back to.

She was out in record time and climbing on her bike when she saw it. Down in the chasms below, a mouse. Curious, she pulled out a pair of binoculars and looked through them. It was a female, black hair and had the clothes of a soldier. And she just happened to be leaving behind a kid to guard a rat and a Sand Raider.

What, was she kidding?

Nega sighed. Well if fate wanted to present her with an opportunity, who was she to argue?

Sneaking up on him was easy. Too busy sulking and mumbling to himself, he didn't notice anyone behind him until he felt the gun pressed against his head.

"Hey kid," she said. "You lost? This is a bit far out for a mouse to be. Doubly so since I notice you don't have a weapon."

"Who's there?" he snarled.

"Kid I'll give you this, to speak in a tone like that to someone who has a gun on you, you have guts. But if you don't shut up they're gonna be the last thing you see hanging out from your stomach, got it?" Figuring she'd pulled the kids chain enough, she chuckled. "Look, I take this gun off you, you promise not to do anything stupid? I need a favor, and it'll be better if you live long enough to do it."

"What do you want?" he asked and she lowered her weapon. The pressure gone, he turned around.

"Now before you do anything dumb," she cut in before he could even bristle at her, "let's not forget that I'm armed, and you're not. I'm going to assume you know Stoker, and are here to help rescue him?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'll take that as a yes," she said. "He's up near the top floor in the lab. He's been brainwashed."

"So I've heard," he commented.

"My, doesn't the good news get around fast these days? Well, everyone knows your friend was coming, and I'm sure they'll be ready for her, including Stoker. And judging from the fact of how soft you guys are in battle, I wouldn't guess she'd be willing to shoot him."

"Man lady, you don't know Miss Carbine," he responded. "But you're right, taking him out just because he's been brainwashed isn't our style. He doesn't deserve that. So, going to gloat over me and think I can't get away to help her?"

"I'm telling you this so you will help her," she replied. "I don't know if there's a way to bring Stoker back, but if there is, I'm entrusting you guys to find it."

"Wait a second… what?" He looked honestly stumped.

"Stoker may be an enemy because of particular politics, but it isn't personal. In fact, he may be the only mouse I've ever considered likable, in an annoying sort of way. In any case, he rubbed me in a much better way as friendly enemy than a bastard of an ally. The war isn't personal, but my standing with him are, at least to me."

"I'm not sure I completely understand," he started.

"And you don't need to," she answered. "Just go."

She grabbed his arm just as he was about to run off and he gave her a confused look.

"Just one thing," she told him. "You can't tell anyone what I've done, not even Stoker."

"What? But why?"

"I'm still the enemy, kid. He saved my life, but while I do owe him something, even doing this little could land me in hot water. Sending you may not even do him any good, and you may have just run in on your own eventually, but there is a chance. Besides, I don't think I could deal with him getting the wrong idea about me. He thinks I'm a nice person as it is."

"I can live with that," he said and ran off.

"Well, time to check what the cat drug in," she muttered as she walked over to the rat. He was lying against a broken wall, head lying against his chest. She pointed her pistol at his knee, figuring what a nice distraction he'd make yelling and bleeding all over the place while the others got away, and leaving all the credit to the mice for doing it to him as she rode away free. He groaned softly as he stirred, looking up at her.

'Mace?' she thought as her eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed.

"Huh?" he murmured, still fighting to gain awareness. "Who…?"

"Stuff it," she replied as she knelt down next to him and made a point of jabbing his nose with her gun, hard. The sudden pain caused him to yelp before he realized who had the weapon on him.

"You know, I was considering the knee, but the face is a much more satisfying target. Though I guess you always enjoyed going for the back," she informed him. "Care to explain what you're doing here Mace?"

"Nega," he replied with a small smile, warily eying her gun. "What are you doing here?"

"Delivering a message to the head Plutarkian Overruler himself," she replied. "Some of us have real work to do."

"I take it'd be a bad idea to ask how you've been doing lately?"

"Got it in one shot," she answered. "Last I heard you were off making nice with the mouse population against the Plutarkians. So you're Deep Pocket? Mind if I ask you whose pocket you're in for this week?"

"That was nothing but cover," he answered. "Figured as long as I was going to loose my home I should make some profit off of it. And as long as I was going to make some money it was going to be some real cash and not some petty fee as a pawn to get shot at. This way I had some info on them already. I've been making a killing as a spy, in more way than one if you'll pardon the pun, and all because of their trust in me."

"Yeah I see that trust was warranted," she responded as she looked down at the mouse mask near his feet.

"I've been using that for years," he answered. "Think they'd trust one of us?"

"I wouldn't," she answered as she stood. "But you've always been slippery, even for a rat. I was fourteen when you drove that electric screwdriver into my hip, and barely fifteen when you screwed me over again, if you'll pardon the pun. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you out of spite?"

"Because in my position, you would… Ah, who're we kidding? You did do the exact same thing," he answered. "That, and I saved your life."

'Dammit,' she thought as she holstered her gun. "You know, karma has been playing with me a little too much these days. Why is it that all my debts are biting me in the ass lately?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Never mind that, where did those two mice go?"

"What mice?" she responded as he got up. "When I found you, you were all alone. Well, you and the Sand Raider, but that thing hardly counts, now does it?"

"Great," he growled. "Looks like my cover is pretty much blown. Unless they get caught in the castle, but that bitch has such a talent for getting in the way that I doubt it'll do much good. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already linked in to the base and blabbed to everyone."

"Well sucks to be you," she answered. "Maybe you'll be forced to play one side from now on."

"I've always been on one side."

"Yeah, yours. Which is true of any rat, so I guess I can only fault you so much," she sighed. "Well… guess I'll get going. Just so you know, things look like their going to get pretty hectic in there. And I doubt I'll get much of a bonus for sticking around to help out if things get out of control."

"Nega," he started and reached for her shoulder.

"It's been nearly seven years since Plutark started to buy up this planet," she said as she shrugged his hand off. "I don't think you have touching privileges anymore."

"Maybe I should work on that," he responded. "What company are you with? We can get some drinks when this is all over."

"No deal," she stated. "Besides, knowing you, I'll never see you again."

"I hope I disappoint you," he answered.

"Well, you have had practice at it."

"You know, it's not like I could take you along with me. You've always been too honest for a rat."

"Honest, huh? Dear ol' mom and dad use to call it being weak," she mused. "Guess it's the same in most books?"

If he was about to say something, she didn't catch it as she gave into an insane urge and stroked his face, burying her fingers into his fur.

"For what it's worth, I guess I owe you a thank you for saving me from those Sand Raiders."

"You saved me first," he answered, returning the affection she was allowing herself. "It was the least I could do, to bring you back."

"Good luck," she said as she pulled herself away from him. "Don't get yourself killed, okay?"

She should have slugged him when he kissed her on the top of her head. Just like when she'd been a kid, not that he'd treated her like a kid for long. But from the sounds of explosions coming from the castle, it was about time to book it.

"See ya later Mace," she said before heading to her bike. He didn't answer, but then he was probably pretty busy all of a sudden.

---------

I have no idea where that came from, so don't even ask. Her old flame was supposed to be some nameless character that she didn't even care about anymore, but somehow it morphed into this. My stories have a bad habit of running away with themselves. But considering we all know how he ends up, she'll probably never see him again.

In a twisted sort of way, I liked the idea actually.