Author Note: I apologise for the long wait for this chapter, unfortunately Real Life got in the way. Hope you enjoy this next chapter and I promise to be more on the ball in the future!

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"So, who's this guy Limburger?" asked Carbine, leaning against the wall as Charley worked on her bike. Behind her, Vinnie and Throttle were scarfing down hot dogs, after Vinnie had gone to a nearby vendor to pick up something to eat. Carbine had enjoyed the food as much as they did - after the K-rations anything tasted good - but watching the two of them eat had made her lose her appetite. They were enjoying the junk food way too much.

Charley tightened a nut on the tyre, pausing before replying. The other two mice seemed
friendly enough, but Carbine was stand-offish and intense, which unnerved her slightly. "First heard of him about a year ago. He's been buying up land around Chicago, supposedly to do some urban restoration. But things around here are more demolished than restored. He's been after the Last Chance for a while, but he never sent a mob around before. Usually he just offers money."

"You don't want to sell?"

"The Last Chance is mine," replied Charley determinedly. "I wouldn't give this place up for ten times what he offered!"

Looking up, Charley saw a smile play across the mouse's face. Obviously the attitude impressed her. But then reasoned Charley, she was a soldier in a war to save her planet - it was doubtful she'd have time for quitters.

From across the room came a loud belch - Throttle, showing off. A second or two later, a second even louder belch sounded, this time Vinnie. Charley grimaced. "I guess men are
the same no matter what planet they're from."

"Unfortunately," said Carbine looking resigned and Charley grinned. Carbine grinned back and Charley wondered if she might have broken through the Freedom Fighters hostile exterior.

"You and Vinnie are an item I noticed," she said conversationally and immediately the smile was wiped from Carbine's face, replaced by a look of suspicion. Obviously, where Vinnie was concerned, Carbine had a jealous streak a mile long.

"Yeah, we are," said Carbine in an overly casual voice. "Been together a long time."

"That's great," said Charley, wanting to ask more but put off by Carbine's attitude. "Hey, maybe I can give you a hand repairing your ship too - I'm pretty good with a wrench." She smiled to show the joke, spinning the wrench around in her hand.

"Maybe you can." Carbine leant against the wall and took a sip of the root beer in her hand. "But we crashed pretty hard. Might take a long while."

"Time I've got," said Charley ruefully. "Since the neighbourhood was torn up, business has been kinda slow."

"And while we're here, we can take a look at this Limburger clown, see what his game is." Carbine scowled. "I've got a bad feeling about him."

"You and me both." Charley straightened up and stretched. "Bikes are ready."

Throttle and Vinnie headed over and Throttle revved his engine, listening for the gyro. "Not bad. You're a pretty good bike jockey."

"Best in Chi-town," said Charley with a smile. "By the way, your weapons looked like they could use a little improvement, so I put in a few extras."

"Extras? Like what?" Vinnie noticed a new button on his dash and pressed it. Immediately, two missiles shot out of the front and blew a hole in the garage door.

"Like that," said Charley with a sigh.

Vinnie didn't even notice Charley's annoyance over the door. "Oooh! I like it sweetheart, I like it!"

Carbine jumped on her bike, putting on her helmet and ignoring Vinnie's words. "Since we're back in business, what say we check out this Limburger character?"

"Teach him it's not nice to threaten innocent people," added Throttle with a smirk.

"Aaooww!" Vinnie revved his engine and Charley had a sudden horrible premonition, heading for the door control and raising it just as the three mice sped out.

"Now I know why mice live in caves," she muttered to herself, grabbing the missiles left outside before they could be found and contemplating the ruins of her door. If they did have to stay on Earth for an extended period, she was going to have to get better insurance.

Meanwhile, the three mice headed for Limburger Towers. It was hard to miss. The vast structure stood out against the other buildings, the immaculate architecture and majestic grounds of the place a stark contrast to the devastation around the Last Chance.

"Battle Mode bros," said Carbine.

"Let's rock the walls off this joint," added Throttle.

The mice rode straight at the tower and directly up the walls, planning to enter via the roof. But before they had got half-way up, several canons emerged from the walls and opened fire.

"I don't think Limburger's exactly happy to see us," commented Vinnie as the mice evaded the shots. A moment later, they landed on the roof and paused for a moment.

A moment was all it took for a group of hired hands to emerge on dune buggies and start blasting at the mice. Unfortunately for them, the Biker Mice had faced worse odds against better fighters than them and made short work of the goons.

All three mice hit buttons on their bikes, ejecting ropes and grabbing the ends, leapt from the building and crashed through the top window. In the office inside was a frightened looking and extremely obese man in a loud purple suit, cringing away from the broken glass.

"It's so hard to get good help these days," commented Vinnie in a mock-sympathetic voice.

"I know, I know," replied the man mournfully. It seemed likely, given Charley's description, that the man was the infamous Limburger.

Throttle stepped forward, scenting the air. "Hey… I smell Plutarkian!"

Whipping his tail up, he grabbed Limburger by the hair. The mans face stretched and pulled from his head, revealing it to be a mask – and beneath, a Plutarkian.

"Oh – you could tell?" Limburger seemed suspiciously unworried by the revelation. "I must have the air conditioning repaired at once."

Carbine opened her mouth to make a comment, then paused as the floor opened up in the corner. Slowly, the lift rose to reveal a familiar figure.

"Karbunkle," snarled Vinnie, clenching his fists.

"Yes, my dear boy. Karbunkle smirked at the enraged mice. "How very nice of you to remember."

"I remember," Vinnie growled, taking his gun from his belt and advancing on the Doctor, but was distracted as another part of the floor opened up, the whirring noises suggesting another lift rising.

"Not more of those idiots from the roof," said Throttle, shaking his head in mock dismay. "I got news for ya – they're not exactly stopping us so far."

Karbunkle cackled. "Trust me, this – gentleman is far better armed than they were."

Throttle raised his own gun, but hesitated as the figure rose through the floor.

"Modo?"

The grey mouse glared at them through the visor of his helmet, sat in the saddle of a bike that was nothing like the one he had ridden on Mars, before the invasion. Clearly not a Martian creation it was turquoise, evil looking spikes from the centre of the wheels and a huge canon on the front. The bike was larger than those the other mice rode, heavier looking, but a small burst of flame from the exhaust as he gunned the engine suggested that it could still do some speed.

"Oh man," said Vinnie in dismay, training his own gun on Karbunkle. "Whatever you've done to make Modo like this, reverse it."

"Now," added Throttle menacingly.

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Karbunkle with a smirk. "Now my Martian Masterpiece – get them!"

In response, Modo raised both of his mechanical arms and opened fire. The other three mice ducked out of the way and hit the floor.

"Be careful!" shouted Limburger from behind his desk. "Those windows are expensive!"

Throttle whistled loudly, the sound audible even over the sounds of gunfire, before scrambling up and heading for the broken window, dodging shots, followed by Vinnie and Carbine. The three leapt out of the window and their bikes met them on the way down, giving them the chance to grab the handlebars and swing into the saddle.

Modo stopped firing, lowering his arms as the mice escaped. Limburger shot out from behind his desk. "Why have you stopped? Exterminate them! Eliminate them! After them!"

Modo rode forward at top speed, leaping from the window the Biker Mice had just left by and slamming to the ground several storey's below.

"At least now we know why we could never find Modo on Mars," said Vinnie.

Carbine took a look over her shoulder. "Um – he's gaining on us."

"If we can lure him away from Limburger Tower…" began Throttle.

"We can what? Bum a quarter off a passer by and use it to hypnotise him back into the guy he was?" Carbine scowled, the sarcasm dripping from her words. "We need a plan. We gotta lose him, then rethink this."

"Easier said than – whoa!" Vinnie swerved as he saw a missile heading his way in the wing mirror. It exploded on the road behind him.

"We're gonna attract too much attention," said Throttle worriedly.

"Split up," ordered Carbine. "Meet up at the Last Chance. He can only follow one of us."

Carbine continued to plough straight ahead, while Throttle took a left and Vinnie a right. A moment later, Modo sent another missile after Carbine, which she avoided easily, blasted his arm canon in Throttle's direction, forcing the mouse to swerve onto the wrong side of the road and jump a parked car, before riding off after Vinnie.

Vinnie glanced in his wing mirror and smirked. "Sorry Big Guy, but I can outride you - on this planet or any other!"

Pressing a button on his dash, he shot a stream of oil from the rear of his bike. Unable to avoid it, Modo rode into it and skidded sideways for several feet, somehow managing to avoid losing his bike, then righting himself at the end of the oil stream and carrying on after Vinnie.

"Oh man," muttered Vinnie. "Trust Modo to pull out a killer brody!"

Modo raised his right arm and started blasting after Vinnie, forcing him to weave around the shots. Ahead of him, Vinnie spied a large industrial plant, the doors wide open and Vinnie rode inside, checking the interior for anything that could aid his escape without any real harm coming to Modo – then he saw an enormous vat of some kind of boiling contents and grinned.

Putting on an extra burst of speed, he hit a ramp leading up to the vat and rode up, leaping as he reached the top. The heat from the fumes coming from the vat began clouding his vision and he blinked irritably, hoping that he'd timed the stunt just right….

With a crash, he smashed through the window at the opposite side of the vat, landing on the floor outside the warehouse and screeching off down the road. Keeping an eye on the mirror, he headed away from the Last Chance until he was satisfied that Modo hadn't been able to follow. Then he took the road back to the garage, already trying to come up with some way in which they could break Karbunkle's hold on the mouse.

In the warehouse, Modo hadn't even tried to leap the vat – on his much heavier bike and with his added weight, it would have been suicide. Instead he pulled up at the top of the ramp and stared impassively at the window where Vinnie had smashed his way out.

"You! Hey, you!"

Modo turned his head slowly, regarding the man in the hard hat shouting at him from the foot of the ramp.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? What is this crap? You can't just come busting in here! Who's gonna pay for that window?"

Ignoring him, Modo rode back down the ramp and out of the building, the foreman squawking as he tried to give chase, the rest of the workers staring in disbelief.

At the Last Chance, Carbine paced anxiously and Throttle sat on his bike seat, a frown creasing his face. Charley had decided it would be best to remain quiet until there was some news of their friend.

When Vinnie rode through the door, Carbine was at his side before he even stopped the engine. "Are you hurt?"

"Nope," said Vinnie, removing his helmet, the usual cheerful look absent. "Lost him. I just don't believe it – anyone else we could have just taken out, but Modo…"

Charley folded her arms. "Who's Modo?"

Throttle sighed. "Back on Mars, before the war, Vinnie and me used to hang out with a mouse called Modo. Biggest mouse I ever saw, tough as nails, but he had a heart of gold – soft touch y'know? When the war first broke out, Modo got his family away from their place, but his dad wouldn't go. They both went missing. We kinda… assumed the worst."

"Then a few years later, Modo turns up again, modified into some super-soldier and fighting on the side of the stink-fish."

Charley bit her lip. "Maybe he – volunteered?"

"No," said Vinnie, his voice low but firm. "Modo would never sell out. No matter what they offered – or what they did."

Carbine flicked her tail against the floor. "Why did he go after Vinnie?"

Throttle glanced over at her. "What do you mean?"

"He could see we were getting away from him rather than fighting and he knows Vinnie. He had to know Vinnie had a better chance of getting away faster than one of us two."

Vinnie didn't even comment on this admission of his speed. Charley may not have known them for more than a few hours, but she realised that this omission meant Vinnie had something major on his mind.

But Throttle suddenly wore a look of hope. "We know that Modo still has the same ability to reason – so he should have guessed that."

Vinnie jumped off his bike. "You mean, Modo might be fighting the mind control?"

"Remember when he caught Primer back on Mars? I think at least unconsciously, a part of him is fighting it."

Carbine shook her head slowly. "But he never met me before the war – if he was acting out of some sense of brotherhood, he'd come after me, not Vinnie."

"No, he wouldn't!" Throttle pounded his palm with his fist. "Because you're a woman!"

"And what a woman!" grinned Vinnie, good humour obviously restored.

Carbine gave them both icy glares. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Modo would never hurt a lady," said Vinnie. "His mamma would whup him good!"

"He'd rather go after us than risk hurting you," said Throttle, seeing Carbine's expression and deciding it might be wise to placate her. "He doesn't know that you can handle yourself."

"So Modo wants away from the Plutarkians," said Vinnie. "Man, I knew the Big Guy wouldn't turn his back on the Mice!"

"One problem," said Carbine. "What exactly are we going to do about it?"

The jubilant mood dampened slightly as the four contemplated this. Vinnie's hand rose and he unconsciously touched his mask. "Karbunkle said the mind control chips were planted under the skin. So we'd have to get him to a surgeon or something."

Charley frowned. "I'm sorry guys, but I don't think there are many doctors on Earth who'd be willing to do an op like that – and I don't know a vet who can keep his mouth shut."

"Then we'd have to subdue him and get him back to Mars," added Throttle.

Silence reigned in the garage for a while, then Carbine straightened up, picking up her helmet. "Well, as long as we need to get him back to Mars, we'd better check out the spaceship. Come on guys, might as well see how bad it is. Coming Charley?"

Mildly surprised to be included, Charley nodded and went for her own bike, kept in the corner of the garage.

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"ESCAPED!?"

Limburger slammed his fists against the desk, glaring at Modo. Modo looked back, unintimidated.

"How could this have happened?" Limburger fell back into his seat, scowling furiously. "First on Mars and now here – why is it that those infernally infuriating rodents always manage to foil my plans? Why could you not maul those mice? What went so ridiculously awry?"

"They split up," replied Modo in a voice without inflection. "I could only follow one and he escaped."

Even in his anger, Limburger could see the logic in this. "Damn! I can't even get one mouse moving into Chicago – it had to be three! There'd be far more chance of defeating them if they were alone…"

He stopped, his eyes lighting up as he came up with an idea. "My dear muscle-bound mouse, I believe your infuriating failure has shown me the fatal flaw in the Biker Mice family – and given me some fortuitous thoughts!"

Modo's bionic eyes gleamed briefly, but the mouse himself merely nodded as Limburger headed down for Karbunkle's lab.

At Quigley Field, the three mice gazed up at the scoreboard. The spaceship still hung out of it, looking decidedly worse than they had hoped.

"It's gonna take a long time to mend that mangled mess of metal," said Throttle gloomily.

The ship picked that moment to fall further off balance. With a tortured screech of metal, the ship fell totally inside the scoreboard, a crashing sound indicating further damage.

Throttle sagged over the handlebars of his bike. "Typical. Just great."

Carbine removed her helmet and rubbed her forehead wearily. "How are we supposed to get back to Mars with the ship in that state?"

The mice lapsed into a dejected silence and Charley decided to try to improve on things. "Well… if you're stuck here on Earth, this place will make as good a hideout as any!"

"What, here? In the scoreboard?" Throttle laughed derisively.

Charley bristled slightly. "Why not? Limburger would never think to look for you there!"

The mice exchanged looks and shrugged. "I guess we could check it out," said
Carbine.

Vinnie grinned widely. "Now that we've got the bachelor pad thing sorted out…"

Carbine shot him a look.

"Um, our first place together and a lodger?"

"Gee thanks," said Throttle wryly.

Vinnie sighed, defeated. "Now that we've got somewhere to stay – that satisfy everyone? Whaddya say we grab a little chow?"