No one slept for fear that Harley would pass away without them knowing it. Vinnie kept a constant vigil at Harley's bedside, holding her hand and willing her to live. The group breathed a sigh of relief when Harley survived their first night back on mars. Even though Harley had survived the night, she was still in grave danger. She was constantly slipping in and out of consciousness. Her breathing was ragged and she was running a high fever.
"Uncle Modo! Uncle Modo!" Rimfire yelled, breaking the solemn silence in the lab. Everyone looked up to see Rimfire running toward the lab excitedly.
Modo shushed his nephew. "Remember where you're at nephew," Modo said as he gestured toward where Harley was lying in a semi-comatose state.
"Sorry Uncle Modo," Rimfire apologized.
"What's going on Rimfire?" Stoker asked, recognizing the urgency in Rimfire's voice.
"Word is out that Limburger has sent Greasepit and his goon army here to search for Harley and Aunt Torque. He won't come here himself, he has too many enemies among the bounty hunters."
A considerable number of the bounty hunters were super villains who Limburger had previously hired to rid himself of the Biker Mice. Limburger had not paid any of them for their services. The big cheese's failure to pay the mercenaries for their work had, of course, made him a pariah to them. If given the chance, virtually all of them would destroy Limburger and give it no second thought.
Limburger was still reeling from the experience that he and Karbunkle had on Black Rock asteroid when they were accidentally transported there while trying to import the monsters Gorgonzola and Munsterella to destroy the Biker Mice in Chicago. The megalomaniac and his mad scientist were confronted with irate super villains who desperately wanted revenge against Limburger for their defeat at the hands of the Biker Mice and for the fact that the big cheese failed to pay them.
"Greasepit and those goons will be up against some of the most ruthless and bloodthirsty criminals in the galaxy. They won't stand a chance against them. Those bounty hunters will turn them into mincemeat," Throttle hypothesized. "Still, I say that we should do everything we can to stop them. The fewer goons there are looking for Torque and Harley the better."
"Already on it Throttle," Carbine said to her boyfriend as she walked in the lab. She had immediately returned to duty upon arriving back on mars. "It seems that Karbunkle was planning on using some chemical warfare against us Martians. Apparently, the war ended before he had a chance to mix it into the food supply and further decimate our population. We've found some highly concentrated food poisoning stored in barrels in the basement of Karbunkle's lab. The bounty hunters frequent a bar run by the sand raiders. Since the food poisoning is in liquid form, we've diluted it and disguised it as a beverage. We sent it to them as a 'peace offering' from a warring faction of the sand raiders. They are presently drinking it as we speak."
"Uh Mr. Limburger," Greasepit said as he spoke to Limburger via vidcom. It was his first day back on mars and one of the first places that he and the rest of Limburger's goons had stopped was to get something to eat and drink at the sand raiders bar. After drinking more than their fair share of the "funny tasting root beer," Greasepit and the goons became severely ill.
Greasepit was nearly doubled over in pain as he spoke to Limburger. His teeth were clenched and he clutched his stomach tightly.
"Well, what is it?" Limburger said to Greasepit impatiently. "I don't have all day. I'm a busy fish you know. I hope that you have something positive in the way to report in your progress in finding those femme fatales."
Tears were running down Greasepit's face. He groaned in pain. "Mr. Limburger, we can't find 'em. Us goons is too sick."
"You imbecilic ingrates!" Limburger shouted at Greasepit, failing to acknowledge his obvious illness. "You lazy louts! You'd better have something for me the next time I speak to you about the whereabouts of those two fugitive females or else I'll take it out of your greasy hide!"
As Limburger continued with his tirade, Greasepit passed out. He lay unconscious while Limburger continued to tell him what a "dimwitted doofus" and a "bumbling buffoon" he was. It would be several days before Limburger would learn that Greasepit and his goons were all victims of food poisoning.
"How can this be happening to me?" Limburger screamed upon learning that his goon army had been incapacitated by food poisoning. "All I want to do is find those two ermine escapees and collect the bounty on their heads. Is that too much to ask for?"
Limburger's wailing was interrupted by Mace appearing on the vidcom.
"Greetings Lawrence," Mace said in a chipper voice. "We haven't spoken in quite a while."
"What do you want you repulsive rodent," Limburger said wearily.
"It has come to my attention that your goons came upon a little, misfortune, shall we say?" Mace said.
"Did you have something to do with this you repugnant rat?!" An infuriated Limburger yelled at Mace accusatorially. "Were you behind the illness that has afflicted my goons?"
"No, why, I would never do such a thing to you Lawrence," Mace said innocently. "In fact, I contacted you to offer my services to you in order to help you find the two missing Martian mouse females and bring them to justice."
"Why, pray tell, would I wish to accept your assistance?" Limburger asked Mace.
Mace grinned slyly at Limburger. "I am aware of the present financial difficulty that you are having concerning your ex-wife as well as I sure that you are aware of my present financial difficulties."
"I believe that if we both work together and pool our resources that we can apprehend those fugitives and collect more than enough reward money to eliminate both of our financial dilemmas."
"Limburger," Mace said in a tone of voice similar to the one used by used car dealers, "I would like to give you an offer that you can't refuse."