Happy Turkey Day to those who celebrate it, and Happy Thursday to those who don't. To celebrate, shiny new chapter! Yay!
And two new OCs have made their appearance! Yay!
Disclaimer: I do not own Biker Mice from Mars. I do, however, own this story and any characters in it that never appeared in the actual series. I also own the Chicago Institute of Art and Design, as I'm pretty sure it's a college that doesn't actually exist.
I would also like to disclaim all responsibility for any discrepancies in the whole attending-college ordeal. Having never had the pleasure of actually attending college myself, I am getting the majority of my info with a little Google-fu research and a whole lot of making shit up as I go along. Um ... yay?
As always, I adore the reviews I've been getting, so feel free to keep 'em coming! I find them inspiring. Well, them and a whole lot of really great music. Anyway, on to the story!
Chapter Nine
Alley muttered to herself and punched the button on the elevator, waiting for the lift to carry her up to another floor. This was the fifth ride she'd taken so far in search of the elusive Main Office, and her nerves were about shot. And it was totally Stoker's fault. He'd had her so turned around that she'd taken off without remembering to grab the GPS out of Priscilla's glove-box, thus leaving her to find her way to the Chicago Institute of Art and Design without so much as a road map to guide her.
After two hours of battling downtown mid-afternoon traffic, getting turned around twice (once going the wrong way up a one-way street), stopping at three different convenience stores to ask for directions, she'd finally made it to the main campus located three miles outside of the actual city. Only to be faced with another conundrum: the campus really was huge. The four buildings on the campus were huge. And only one of them contained the offices where she was supposed to fill out the final papers to turn in for the start of her school year.
On a whim, she'd picked the biggest building that was located the furthest from the gated entrance, which had thankfully been the right choice (according to the random student she'd asked in passing). But now that she was in the place she was supposed to be, she found herself confused and lost all over again. The large floor layout maps hanging on the walls by the elevators and escalators were proving less than useful. Big red dots with the words "You are here" graced every one, but the maps themselves were all wrong, and didn't seem to match the actual floor plans at all. So no matter where Alley supposedly was, she couldn't help feeling like she was supposed to be somewhere else altogether!
The elevator dinged, the door slid open, and she stomped out of the lift and turned right … only to run headlong into a wall of books and poster tubes, hard enough to knock herself flat on her ass. There was a startled yelp from behind the book-wall as it promptly came tumbling down, scattering tomes and tubes all around her. And the tall, skinny man who'd been holding them blinked owlishly at her from the wire-framed glasses that had been knocked askew on his nose.
"I am so sorry!" Alley cried, scrambling to her knees to help pick up the scattered books. Her entire body was flaming with mortification. "I wasn't looking and I knocked into you and I am just so sorry," she babbled.
"No worries," the man grunted, getting to his feet. "I wasn't exactly looking where I was going, either. What with the books blocking my view and all." He offered a crooked grin, soft gray eyes smiling down at her through an unkempt mop of sandy brown curls. "You okay?" He offered a hand to help her up, which she gratefully accepted. "No broken bones or anything?"
"Nah, I'm fine. How about you?" she replied. "I hit you pretty hard."
"Oh, don't worry about him. He's used to being knocked on his ass by girls."
The man heaved a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes as a woman dressed all in purple and black joined them. She smirked at him and kicked a poster tube out of her way with a well-worn engineer boot. "This your new method for picking up women? Play the injured puppy and get them cooing and drooling all over you in sympathy?" she teased.
"Don't you have some kittens to eat or something?'
"I upgraded my diet to pig hearts this week. More protein."
Alley watched the two of them banter, fascinated. They were as different as two people could be. If she had to put a title, he was classic preppy nerd while the girl was clearly the punk-goth type. In normal society, these two would hardly take time to look at each other, much less interact like … well, a lot like her and Charley did, actually.
"Are you two related by chance?" she blurted, and felt herself blushing all over again when the pair stopped talking and turned to face her. Goth Chic had gray eyes, too, she noted, heavily made up with dark shadow and liner. And she suspected that under the cherry-red hair dye, the girl's natural hair color was also brown.
"You're good," Goth Chic commented. "Most people don't figure it out on the first try. You must have an annoying brother, too."
"I'm an only child, actually. But my cousin and I get along pretty much the same way," Alley explained. "So, you're siblings?"
"Yeah, we're twins. Can't you tell?" Goth Chic's voice was so bland, Alley couldn't tell if she was joking or not.
Preppy rolled his eyes and smacked his sister across the head. "What the birth defect means to say is her name is Constance Archer. And I'm Christopher."
"Call me Chex," the girl put in. "If you call me Constance or Connie, I'll be forced to kill you. You can call him the Mutant Hobbit." Another smack over the head from said Hobbit. "Okay, fine, call him Chris."
Alley laughed. "Alley Davidson," she said. "Freshly relocated from Florida. And you're from?"
"Oh, we're born-and-bred Illinoisans," Christopher replied with a grin. "Chi-town residents for the past ten years. A little town called Penbrooke before that."
"They call it a town, but it's more like a speck of dirt on a map. You know, the kind you try and scratch off with your fingernail." Chex demonstrated by scratching the air with a black-painted nail. "Oh, speaking of maps, I probably should tell you, the maps on the walls? They've been switched around."
Alley's brow furrowed. "Switched?"
"Yeah." Chris nodded at the map behind them. "That one says Atrium floor, but the Atrium is actually in another building. This is the Hospic floor. Who knows where that map ended up."
Alley's jaw dropped. "No wonder I can't figure out where I am!" she huffed. "What morons went and switched the maps?"
"Just some prank from the senior students," Chex said with a shrug. "The frat houses tend to pull crazy shit like this to confuse the hell out of the newbies. Congrats. You can consider yourself officially initiated. Welcome to college. Just like high school, but with a lot more drinking."
After picking up the rest of the books, the twins guided Alley to the correct office located on the first floor in the back of the building. They seemed to know their way around the place pretty well, and when Christopher told her why, she was astonished. "Your father is the dean?" she repeated.
"Yeah, but don't hold it against us," Chex deadpanned. "We can't help who we were born to."
"So you know this place pretty well, huh?"
"We've been running around these buildings since we were kids. I always wanted to attend school here," Chris told her. "My sister is here because her other option was Military boot camp, but the food is better here."
"Ah." Alley grinned. "That would be those pig hearts you mentioned?"
"And let us not forget the kittens," Chex added. "So, what're you majoring in?"
"Well, because my parents absolutely insisted on me picking something I can make a real career out of, my major is graphic design. But since I'm not sure if that's what I actually want to do, I'm minoring in creative writing and music composition, and looking into a few possible art courses for next semester."
"Sweet. Another writer type. I dig it." Chex offered a high-five, but hastily reconsidered when she nearly dropped her armload of books. "What's your preference? Novels? Poetry? Essays?"
"Well, I don't really know," Alley admitted. "I've mostly kept journals and stuff, and I've written some song lyrics here and there, a few poems. But since I've never actually let anyone read any of it, I don't know if they're any good or not."
"You write music?" Chris asked.
"Sort of. I didn't take a lot of music classes in high school, but I do know my basics. I took piano lessons for eight years. I'm in the beginning course for music composition. I think it'd be fun to try writing my own songs."
"Do you sing, too?" he asked hopefully.
"What's with the twenty questions?" Chex nudged her brother. "Trying to recruit her for your little band?"
Alley raised her eyebrows. "You're in a band?"
She must've sounded skeptical, because he drew himself up, looking a little wounded. "It's nothing spectacular, just a garage band I put together back in high school, but we get decent gigs on weekends and stuff," he replied. "It's a lot of fun. Hang out, play good music. Get paid for it, even. Since we graduated, though, some of the members have left. The drummer headed to Oxford and our female lead singer is attending Juilliard. We've still got our bass and guitar players, and I sing and play the keyboard."
"That's cool," Alley said.
"We'll probably hold auditions for another keyboard player and singer once classes start. See if we can get some interest. It'd be great to keep the band going, if we can."
Chex cupped a hand to her mouth and added in a stage-whisper, "That's a hint for you to show up and sing."
Chris mimicked the move. "She's just mad 'cause we won't let her join. She can't hold a note to save her life."
"Butthead."
"Birth defect."
"Awww, you guys love each other so much," Alley teased. "Almost makes me wish I had a brother, too."
"Don't. You're better off," Chex said blandly.
Alley laughed. "So what're you majoring in, Chex? You like writing, too?"
"Connie has wanted to be a professional writer since she was old enough to pick up a pencil," Chris said with a roll of his eyes. "Don't get her started on the subject or you'll never get her to shut up again."
"Don't mind him." Chex pulled a face at her brother. "His ultimate goal in life is to be our dad's personal Mini Me. He fully plans to take over the position of dean when Pops retires."
"That's not set in stone," Chris muttered, blushing a little. "But it's sort of a position that's been passed down in the family since the school was founded. As the oldest son-"
"As the only son," she cut in with a snort.
Chris shot her a brief glare before turning his attention back to Alley. "Our family founded this school," he explained. "We don't own it, per say, but it's always been the Archer sons who have taken the position of dean."
"It's got something to do with the founding father's will or some sort of legal shit like that," Chex put in, waving a dismissive hand. "Even though there's a board of directors and all sorts of officials these days, they can't kick an Archer son out of the position, unless he willingly steps down."
"So, when Dad retires, I'll be taking over as the dean," Chris finished.
"Wow. That's kind of nice, knowing you've got a career path all planned out for you." Alley pursed her lips, considering. "Unless … you don't want to be the dean? Then I guess it'd be kind of a pain in the ass."
"No, I'm willing to step into the position, but it'll be after Dad retires, and since he's only in his forties, that won't be happening for awhile."
"So, what do you plan to do with yourself in the meantime?"
"I'm majoring in musical composition, the advanced classes. I'd like a career in music. Maybe become a pianist, or even a teacher. It'd be kind of fun to teach classes here, actually."
Chex snorted. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, my brother really loves this school."
"Oh, like you're one to talk."
Alley grinned as she listened to the twins' bickering, which only ended when they finally reached their destination. "The offices are right through here," Chris announced, pushing open a set of swinging doors to reveal a posh waiting room.
"The dean's office technically closes at five," Chex said, "but being his kids gives us certain advantages." She flashed a cheeky smile at the secretary and sauntered down the short hallway as if she owned the place, stopping before a closed door. "Hey, Pops, you in?" she called.
"C'mon in," came a deep voice from the other side. Chex pushed the door open and stepped into a large, richly furnished office with Chris and Alley bringing up the rear. "Got those books and posters you wanted," she grunted, dumping her armload onto the mahogany desk. The dark-haired man on the other side glanced up from his ledger, gray eyes crinkling with a smile.
"Thanks, kids." His eyes fell on Alley. "I'm sorry, young lady, the office is closed now."
"Um," Alley began, but Chris hastily stepped in. "She's with us," he explained. "She got lost trying to get here because someone went and switched all the floor maps on the walls."
"Again?" Mr. Archer rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Didn't we just go through that last year?"
"Better up the security, Pops." Chex took her brother's armload of books and unceremoniously dumped them into an empty armchair. "Tricky bastards, those seniors."
"Language, Constance," the dean sighed.
"Sorry, Sir." She didn't sound sorry at all.
"Alley has some more papers she needed to sign. Think she could do that real quick? After all the trouble she had getting here and all…" Chris prodded.
"Sure, sure. Have Mary pull the file. Alley, was it? You can sit at the table out there and finish what you need. I just ask that you be done by six thirty. That's when Mary has to leave."
"Oh, that'll be plenty of time. Thank you, Sir," Alley replied gratefully, placing the poster tubes she was holding on the chair beside the books. She stood awkwardly, wondering if she should bow or curtsy or something, and settled for a polite nod as she turned to follow Chex back to the waiting area.
Half an hour later, Alley was on the final paper, filling in her new address. She jotted Charley's house phone down as a temporary number until she could buy a cell phone. She considered who to put as emergency contact. Her parents were on the other side of the States, so they were out. Charley was the only person she knew in this city, aside from the mice, but she could hardly use their names. She wasn't sure if they even used phones. Probably best to leave it blank for the moment. She could always fill it later.
She glanced at the twins, who had for whatever reason decided to stick around; Chris had made himself comfortable in an armchair, absorbed in a well-worn copy of what looked like a science fiction novel.
Chex lounged on a loveseat with her long black-and-purple-striped legs resting against the back of the couch and her bright red hair brushing the ground. She didn't seem to care that her short, black-lace tutu skirt had ridden up her waist and now rested in a frothy pile on her stomach. Or that her upside-down face was slowly turning the same shade as her hair as her booted feet danced in the air, keeping time to whatever song was playing on her iPod. She completely ignored the disapproving glances both Mary and her brother kept tossing at her; if anything, they only seemed to encourage her as she drummed the air with her purple-gloved hands, body squirming as she danced on her back. Alley found herself grinning, wondering if she could convince Chex to come shopping with her for a new phone that week. She had a feeling that, despite their very different appearances, the two of them would get along swimmingly.
A disturbance from the front of the waiting area caught her attention, and she looked toward the front desk, where three men had entered the doors and were casually strolling toward them, ignoring Mary's frantic attempts to stop them.
"Aw, shit," Chex swore softly. "The Purple People Eater's back." She quickly flipped herself around and patted down her skirt, snatched a photography magazine off a nearby rack and hastily flipped it open. She didn't seem to notice it was upside-down. "Keep your head down," she hissed to Alley. "Don't look at 'em, don't draw attention to yourself, and whatever you do, hold your breath."
"Hold my-bwoaaarph," Alley gagged as a most awful stench suddenly hit her like a brick to the face. She choked, one hand coming up to pinch her nose shut as she ducked her head, staring through tearing eyes at the forms in front of her. The three men passed them, and she dared to glance up for a better look, then did a triple-take. Purple People Eater was right! He was the largest man she'd ever seen. And he was dressed in the most glaringly purple pinstriped suit her eyeballs had ever had the misfortune to encounter. His greasy black hair was slicked back in some semblance of a coif and he carried a cane in one white-gloved hand. All he needed was a Tommy Gun and he'd be the epitome of the classic 1940s mob boss.
He noticed her staring, gave her a cold smile that sent a chill shivering up her spine, and sauntered down the short hallway to the Mr. Archer's office. The two henchmen following him, looking more like typical thugs on a street corner than anything, didn't even glance her way. She watched them go, wondering why in the world she felt like she'd seen him before.
As soon as the office door opened and shut, Alley released her breath and gasped for air for a moment. "Holy hell," she hissed. "Did somebody drop that guy into the Bog of Eternal Stench?"
Chex burst out laughing and reached over to slug her brother in the arm. "See? I told you I wasn't the only person in the world who watches Labyrinth!"
"Well, we all must have some flaws," Chris sniffed, shutting his book.
"Says the guy reading The Man Who Fell to Earth for the umpteenth time."
"It's a classic book!"
"And Labyrinth is a classic movie!"
"Guys!" Alley snapped her fingers to get their attention. "Focus. Who was that?"
"Trouble," Chris grumbled. "He's been coming around lately. Dad says he's been trying to convince him to sell him the school or something. He wants the land around it."
"Yeah, he seems to have it in his head that Pops owns the place and has the legal authority to sell out, or can convince the board members to sell out, or something. I dunno, the guy's a nutball." Chex circled her temple with a finger.
"Well … hasn't anyone called the cops on him or something?"
"Won't do any good." Chris ran his fingers through his tousled curls, mussing them even further. "His thugs are there for show, but he hasn't actually gotten violent or anything so they can't toss his fat ass out. Dad wouldn't, anyway. He prefers to keep the peace and try and talk things out."
"Yeah, he's stupid like that," Chex muttered, earning a glare from her twin.
"Besides, we think he sort of owns the police. He lines their pockets and all." Chris rubbed his fingers together.
"He's got some weird-ass cheese name," Chex added. "Like, it really fits him, though." She glanced at her brother. "What was it? Muenster? Pepperjack?"
"Limburger," Alley said quietly, as it abruptly hit her where she'd seen him before. In Throttle's memories. "That's Lawrence Limburger."
"Yeah! That's it!" Chex laughed. "Smelly cheese for a really smelly guy!"
"How often does he stop by?" Alley asked.
"I dunno. He started coming around about two months ago. Once or twice a week, I guess. No big deal, really."
"No, listen, this is a big deal." Alley shook her head. "That guy, he's dangerous. He's—" She stopped, struggling to think up a way to explain how dangerous. She doubted the truth would get her anywhere but locked up in a nuthouse. "He's mafia," she finally blurted. "He's a boss in the mafia, and he's buying up property all over the state to strip-mine it. He seems focused primarily on Chicago, though. My cousin, Charley? She's been harassed by Limburger for years, trying to buy out her garage, or take it by force. She's managed to resist, but only 'cause she's got some good friends helping her out. If it wasn't for them, she'd be out of business by now. Possibly worse. He has gotten violent with her in the past. If something isn't done to stop him, he'll start using force to get what he wants here, too. Trust me on this, okay? I believe my cousin."
The twins stared at her, wide-eyed. Even Mary had stopped what she was doing to listen.
"But, when he first showed up, Pops called the cops on him, and they didn't do anything," Chex finally said. "I mean, they said they couldn't do anything."
"Never mind that he was legally trespassing, showing up after-hours without an appointment and even making veiled threats," Chris added. "That's why we figured he's got the police in his pocket. They could've done something otherwise."
Alley chewed on her lower lip. "I gotta get back," she decided. "I've been gone too long, anyhow. Charley needs her truck back, and I want to talk to the guys about this. Her friends, I mean. They can probably help, and the cops never even need to know." She gathered the paperwork and slid it back into the folder, taking it to Mary.
"You two should get yourselves home," the secretary told the twins. "Don't worry, I'll stay and make sure Mr. Archer gets out safely. I'll call security in to escort him if I have to." She took the file from Alley and nodded. "Welcome to the Institute, Miss Davidson. I hope you'll enjoy yourself here."
Alley flashed her a weak smile. "Well, can't say it won't be interesting, at least."
