Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)
I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D
Chapter 6 – Full English
Throttle woke up to the sound of his bro's snoring the next morning. They'd gotten in sometime early that morning chattering loudly about castles, swords and guns. Throttle had paid little attention to it at the time, but now he was awake and wondering if they'd been to the cinema the previous evening. He trudged into the kitchen and turned the kettle on to make coffee. Less than 48hours until Carbine arrived; he felt a mess, things were getting way out of hand. The worst of it was that he had to go apologise to Charley, if he didn't he'd not only have his bro's on his tail, but Carbine and Stoker as well. Throttle rubbed his temples; the pressure was mounting.
After gulping down a mug of weak coffee Throttle reluctantly dragged down stairs to his bike and drove the short distance to Charley's place. The garage was locked up; Throttle shook his head mildly surprised, but unconcerned at this. His concern grew however when he discovered the locked doors to the house, no lights on, no sign of movement. He paced back round to the front of the garage and looked suspiciously at the new house next door.
"Morning!" A cheery female voice hailed him over the fence. "Charley's over at my place – come and have a coffee while you wait!"
Throttle shook his head, he still had his helmet on and he was fairly certain the woman couldn't see his tail at this distance. What to do about the invite though? Throttle sighed polite excuses seemed to be the order of the day; only problem was he wasn't feeling particularly polite.
"Come on Throttle, I know all about you – I've met Stoker!" The woman called again. Throttle felt his stomach muscles tighten and his head reel. She knew – she knew about them; but she'd said she met Stoker. Throttle slowly strode over to the house. He was met by a cheery young woman holding a one eyed cat in her arms.
"Come on." She indicated a path leading to the back of the house. Throttle followed mechanically.
"Where's Charley?" Throttle asked as he stepped into the kitchen and looked for the brunette mechanic.
"Asleep upstairs – we were up late last night talking, so I persuaded her to stay over. Did the bro's get home ok? They had quite a bit of mead! Sit down won't you?" She indicated a chair. "I'm Freda by the way."
"Morning." Throttle murmured wondering what mead was. The cat jumped down and ran into an adjoining room. Freda began brewing coffee and cooking breakfast; two canine heads watched intently from the doorway.
"Hope you like strong coffee." Freda shoved a mug across the table. "Give me a minute and I'll have breakfast to go with that."
"You don't have to..." Throttle began, but Freda cheerily cut him short.
"Nonsense! I love cooking – and cooking is always better when there's more people to feed! Besides you look like you need a good breakfast – you've not been sleeping well have you? You look tired and stressed, and you're temper isn't at its best – go on admit it, you'd love to shout at me right about now." Freda looked at her newest guest.
"Yeah I would love to shout at someone." Throttle agreed sheepishly. "Don't think my head would appreciate the noise though."
"Oh – I probably shouldn't have given you coffee if you have a bad head." Freda spoke apologetically then brightened. "Fancy some stress relief?"
"Like what?" Throttle asked curiously, his flicking tail finally beginning to slow after days of stressed out lashing. Freda really was a breath of fresh air; a very chatty breath of fresh air mind you.
"I'm making bread – you can give it a good pounding if you'd like?" Freda indicated the dough on the side in a bowl with a laugh. "I'm doing too much at once as usual."
"Er – it might get furry." Throttle replied lamely, forgetting he still had his helmet on and hadn't even taken a swig of the coffee.
"Take your helmet off you goof ball! I know you're not human so why pretend?" Freda shrugged; Throttle nodded slowly and released the strap to slide his helmet off.
"How do I?" He looked at the dough as he strode over to the surface.
"Wash your hands first." Freda instructed, "Then knead it, pummel it, punch the tar out of it!"
"Right." Throttle washed his hands and dried them before tipping the bread dough out onto the already floured surface. He uncertainly began pushing the dough back and forth; Freda deftly stepped across and showed him how to pull the dough round in a kneading motion.
"You can thump it – my mates back home always did, more they thumped it the better it tasted I reckon." Freda told Throttle cheerfully as she went back to cooking breakfast. "Where're Modo and Vinnie? They said they'd be here for breakfast."
"Still asleep when I left – hey you know Modo and Vinnie?!" Throttle suddenly exclaimed as the import of what Freda had been asking finally sunk in.
"Yup they were over here last night – give the dough a good bashing as punishment for your bro's going behind your back eh?" Freda winked and disappeared. Throttle began punching the dough viciously, slowly the punches stopped and he returned to kneading it before thumping it again as he thought of all the frustrations he'd been bottling up. Freda reappeared and nodded approvingly.
"Looking good!" She said as she checked on what was cooking. "Hope you guys like full English."
"They've never had it." A sleepy Charley yawned from the doorway.
"Morning Charley!" Freda called in a sing song voice.
"Morning Freda, morning Throttle." Charley yawned again. "You know for a camp bed that thing was deliciously comfortable!"
"I could make you one if you'd like." Freda offered, she'd made up one of her medieval campaign bunks for Charley the previous evening. Constructed of wood and rope the end result was surprisingly comfortable.
"Charley I need to apologise for yesterday." Throttle suddenly spoke up. "I've been really stressed and I apologise for getting so fixated yesterday."
"It's ok Throttle." Charley picked up the mug of coffee Throttle had left and took a sip. "I know you've been stressed."
"How's the bread dough helping?" Freda asked looking at the firm dough shaping up under Throttle's hands.
"A lot actually." Throttle replied in surprise as he realised he was still kneading the dough firmly. Charley chuckled as she watched the tan furred leader taking his frustration out on the willing subject.
"Where are those two?" Freda asked in disgruntled tones as she looked out of the window for any sign of Vinnie and Modo.
"I think this might be done." Throttle murmured as he looked at his dough and flour covered hands. "Though I probably got fur in it."
"There's always fur in my bread dough – I own dogs and cats." Freda waved off Throttle's apologies good naturedly as she spotted an extremely sleepy Vinnie and a yawning Modo weaving their way across from the front of Charley's garage.
"So you do have cats?" Throttle asked as he washed his hands again. Freda placed the dough in a greased bowl and covered it, setting it atop the cooker to begin rising.
"Yup, just regular ones though, all rescues I took in." Freda pointed to the top of a dresser. "There's Bes waiting for her breakfast – and hoping to get some of ours no doubt!"
The beautiful tabby queen mewed loudly in response. Charley reached up to her and lifted her gently down.
"Aren't you on your Hi-Fi perch this morning?" Charley crooned. Vinnie and Modo walked in at that moment, Vinnie immediately rolled his eyes at the sight of Charley with the cat.
"Nah – she only sits there if it's on, I would have named her Hathor after the ancient Egyptian goddess of music but I'd already got a cat with that name so I called her Bes instead." Freda shook her head. "She's a funny one."
"What's Bes?" Charley asked sleepily.
"The Ancient Egyptian god of entertainment – or one of them at least." Freda laughed. "I don't pretend to be an expert on Ancient Egypt."
"Oh wow – are all your cats named after gods and goddesses?" Charley queried as Bes rolled trustingly in her arms.
"Pretty much, it's building on a theme – I've always loved old legends and stories from different cultures. I just never realised how fully it would creep into my life!" Freda laughed. "Anyhow breakfast's ready!"
Throttle gave a low whistle at the variety of food Freda had cooked up; apparently English breakfasts were a somewhat decadent affair. Vinnie gave a whoop of delight and dove in. Charley set Bes down on the dresser and sat down quietly resigning herself to the fact that Vinnie was going to love this meal as much as the one last night.
"Wow, Freda ma'am ya didn't have to cook so much." Modo murmured as he helped himself to eggs and bacon.
"Nonsense! An army marches on its stomach!" Freda grinned. "At least that's my paternal grandfather used to tell me."
"Guessing he was in the military?" Charley enquired.
"Yup, Grenadier Guards." Freda stated proudly. "After that he was a policeman in Gloucestershire."
"So are the Gren-di... Gredni – whatever! A famous British regiment?" Vinnie asked round a mouthful of food.
"Gren-a-di-er Guards." Freda slowed the word down so Vinnie could hear the syllables more clearly. "Yes they are a fairly famous regiment I think – they're very famous in the UK at least. They're the senior regiment amongst the Guards Division at any rate if that means anything to you. Actually both they and the Coldstreams were formed during the English Civil War – on different sides of course."
"So they're an old regiment." Charley raised her eyebrows.
"Old and distinguished." Freda winked. "And steeped in tradition like most of Britain!"
"Is it true that they and the Coldstream Guards are the oldest of the Guards Division?" Throttle asked; all eyes suddenly locked on the tan furred leader. Throttle shifted uncomfortably under the stares, Freda was the first to recover herself from the shock.
"Yes, from what my Grandad said the two regiments were fiercely competitive – I would imagine that still holds true. How much do you know about British Regiments?" Freda asked curiously.
"Oh, I er – heh, accidently discovered something or other about the Guards on tv." Throttle shrugged. "It looked interesting."
"Seriously?" Vinnie asked incredulously. "It looked interesting?"
"Well there's no reason not to learn about earth history an' culture while we're here." Modo reminded the younger mouse. Vinnie pulled a face.
"Well that is of course unless you have a pea sized brain." Charley teased, Vinnie choked on the piece of sausage he was eating.
"Well if you're interested I have lots of history books – mainly British history of course, but you're welcome to borrow anything you find interesting." Freda shrugged. "They'll only be gathering dust until the next time I read them otherwise."
"Thank you." Throttle replied in surprise. "I'd love to borrow some books, I have wanted to read for so long, but the public library is a bit of a problem."
"I can imagine, and naturally being a gentleman you can't expect Charley to lug heavy books back and forth." Freda grinned. "Look no further. I'm afraid I'm bit limited on subject range, but what I am interested in I have a lot on."
"Like the entire box I emptied yesterday on the War of the Rose?" Charley asked stifling a yawn.
"Wars of the Roses Charley." Freda grinned apologetically. "Sorry I keep doing that don't I?"
"What's that Freda ma'am?" Modo looked surprised.
"Correcting you guys." Freda replied chagrined, she honestly couldn't help it, and she just hated hearing mistakes over historical stuff. Thing was most people got really irritated really quickly over her corrections.
"Awww! Don't worry doll! We're from Mars remember? We're bound to get things wrong!" Vinnie interjected soothingly.
"Yeah ok, so I have an excuse to correct you guys, but not Charley – she was born on earth and educated here. I have no right to keep correcting her like an erring student!" Freda reasoned.
"Oh I don't mind – honestly! You're really interesting, and I won't learn proper terminology until someone teaches me. I never enjoyed book-ish subjects at school, the teachers were soooo boring!" Charley huffed. "You tend to tell it like an adventure story!"
"Oh! I can be boring – trust me I do boring very well!" Freda laughed. "History can be a really dry subject in some areas, but it can also be really exciting and rewarding."
"You a historian then?" Throttle asked glancing sideways at Freda, she didn't seem the sort, but you could never tell.
"Kind of, I'm a bit of a jack-of-all-trades really." Freda shrugged. "I get bored easily so I dabble in other subjects; I used to drive my old history tutor at university quite, quite mad!"
"Dabble? How do ya dabble in stuff?" Modo queried in surprise.
"Well I used to go on archaeological digs as a volunteer, and then I finally did a college course in archaeology – that resulted in one heck of a temper tantrum from one of my history professors! I like English, English Lit, Languages, Anthropology – oh and I studied historical aspects of Religion, Philosophy and Law during my Bachelors degree." Freda rattled off. "There's other stuff I'm in to as well, but those are the main ones."
"Heck!" Vinnie grumped emphatically. "You're a bookworm!"
"Munch, munch, munch!" Freda agreed happily grinning. The others laughed as Vinnie's face mutated into a picture of abject disgust.
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