Planet: Mars

Location: Freedom Fighter Headquarters


Charley sat fiddling with her gear in the privacy of her room. The garage was Harley's domain first, and the dining hall was currently filled with some rambunctious Fighters. And while she loved her bros, every now and then, she needed a break. But even as she sat adjusting the voltage on her whip, her mind was on other things.

She was still determined to try and save Harley and possibly ensure the bros didn't have to go through Karbunkle's torture, but Amelia's death had been a massive blow. The uncertainty of it all was making her queasy. She had to be careful as to her next move, lest she irrevocably obliterate the timeline. She couldn't fail. She could not fail.

She hissed as her screwdriver slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. She put the whip down and reached for the tool, before pausing to stare at her hands.

They were shaking.

Her breathing turned shaky and she curled her fingers into fists, closing her eyes as she leaned back into her chair, trying to calm down.

'It's fine. I'm fine. I can do this. I have to do this…'

The door suddenly opening caused her to yelp and jump from her chair. She spun to see a wide eyed Carbine standing by the door with one hand on the handle, looking as if she wasn't sure to fight or flee. That nearly garnered a chuckle from the human woman. Carbine was a force of nature. Nothing could possibly scare her.

"Uh, hi, Carbine. Sorry, I was…uh…lost in thought there…" She stuttered a bit, inwardly flinching. Great, perfect first impression to give your brother's girlfriend… well, second impression, whatever. Carbine did not seem to react to that, instead just raising her hands in a surrendering manner, eyes closed.

"It's cool. I get it. You probably didn't have much time to yourself with the Plutarkians." She said casually as she moved to lean against the wall, crossing her arms as she glanced off into nowhere. Charley felt her hackles rise. Carbine was acting casual, that wasn't a good sign. She had to stay on her toes for this. "I actually came to talk to you." Carbine stated, still not looking at her. Charley took a second to pick up her screwdriver.

"Oh yeah, about what?" she replied breezily, bracing herself for an interrogation. Sure enough…

"About how the Plutarkians abducted you. You said it was three years ago?" She kept her back to the female mouse, but she could practically feel the skepticism rolling off of Carbine. Well, time to test her storytelling skills at last.

"Yip. Was simply minding my own business, working on my bike when three of those stink-faces blasted their way into my garage, nabbed me and put me to work on their machines. No idea why they decided I was on the one to take. I guess I was just unlucky that day." She said as smoothly as she could, finally collecting her screwdriver and placing it back on the worktable.

"Hmm, probably. Though I didn't think those Stinkfaces would be that stupid." Carbine continued. Charley paused as she dusted off her pants, glancing at her.

"What makes you say that?" She asked, both curious and apprehensive to what the mouse would say next.

"Well, there's this law that all of the galaxies follow. It's a pretty big thing. Basically, it prevents any life forms from being taken from their home planet, unless said planet has had sufficient time to be contacted by alien life." She answered calmly, before finally turning her eyes back to her. "Earth kinda falls under that law." Charley made sure not to visibly react as she turned back to her worktable, fiddling with her whip as she came up with a reply.

"Haven't the Plutarkians already broken that law a few times over now? I know Mars isn't the first planet they've targeted." She hoped asking that would buy her some time to prepare herself for any further questions.

"They got permission from our planet's Government before they started mining everything. And they haven't taken any Martians off planet." Carbine answered smoothly. "So why did they risk taking you?" Charley threw a look over her shoulder as she shrugged.

"Hey, you got me. I didn't ask to be taken. Before I was, I didn't even know aliens existed." She tucked the whipped back onto its spot on her belt and started cleaning her gun. She heard a soft scoff.

"Yeah, figured as much." Charley tried not to be offended by that statement. Then she heard Carbine shift away from the wall. "Though I have to wonder how they managed to keep you secret for all those years." She turned her head to see Carbine now facing her, hands on her hips. She shrugged again, turning away and praying the mouse did not sense her growing nervousness.

"Well, you just pointed out they were stupid enough to take me from Earth. They must have not wanted anyone to know about me." She replied, praying it was working. Carbine took a few steps closer to her, standing over her as she worked on her gun.

"And yet, they left you alone long enough to escape. I would think they'd keep you at the highest level of guarding." At this, Charley couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh please, like it's impossible to outsmart those stinkfaces." She sobered up quickly, clearing her throat, "It still took me three years though, so I'll give them credit for that." Out of her peripheral vision, she could see Carbine shifting her weight.

"Well, now that you've escaped, the Army can help get you back to Earth." Charley bit back a sigh. Of course Carbine would be the one to bring it up.

"Thanks, but I'm good. It's not like there's anything waiting for me back on Earth." She responded with a self-deprecating smile.

"I thought you had friends back on Earth. Some guys Stoker mentioned?" Carbine countered. This time, Charley couldn't hide the wince of regret as she thought of those she had left behind in her time. She took a moment before she answered.

"I've been missing for 3 years now. The police will never find a body. At this point, it will be kinder for me to let them move on with their lives." She hoped that's what the bros had done now that she wasn't there anymore. She couldn't bear the thought of anything else. She shook her head with weak smile. "Besides, I have a new family here. I figure that warrants me sticking around."

"So two months is long enough to decide he's family to you?" Carbine bit out. Charley paused, putting her gun down before turning in her chair to look up at the stormy expression the mouse held. Charley smirked.

"So that's what this is about. You're afraid I'm using Throttle." She pointed out. Carbine's eye twitched before she pointed a finger right in her face.

"You're damn right I'm afraid you're using him!" She flung her arms out wildly as she continued, pacing about the room. "You're an Alien, Charlene. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't want to stay here. And yet, you are so eager to throw away the life you had on your home-planet after only two months of being here? Who in their right mind decides: 'Sure, I'm gonna stay and become this alien's sister, who I've only know for a month'?" Charley let Carbine catch her breath after that little rant before she stood up.

"The person that had nothing else left. The only family I had ever known had been gone for 5 years. I had my friends, sure, but they had their own lives. I couldn't expect them to stay with me forever. Sooner or later, they would leave too." And that was true. She knew the bros wouldn't have stayed on Earth forever. Leaving Mars before had been hard on them. At some point, they would have returned to their home planet, leaving her alone once more. She would never fault them for that though. She would have let them, encouraged them to return to their home and their families, while silently suffering from the heartbreak their absence would cause. She felt wetness on her cheek and quickly moved to wipe away the tears that had fallen, but Carbine had already seen them. Said mouse was now watching her with a calculating gaze. She took a breath and faced her fully.

"When I joined the Fighters, I wasn't intending to find a family. But… Amelia and Throttle welcomed me into theirs with open arms. And now that she's gone, how can I not do my best to look out for Throttle?" She hugged herself tightly as she gave Carbine a small, genuine smile. "I know it's crazy considering what I've been through, but…I trust Throttle. I trust him to look out for me, just like I hope he trusts me to do the same for him. And while I know you may never trust me, I hope you at least trust Throttle. That kid seems to really love you."

Silence reigned following her final statement. Carbine looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't, and Charley did not wish to interrupt her train of thought.

"Carbine, Charley!" They both jumped when Harley raced into the room, eyes wide with panic. Carbine recovered first.

"Harley, what's wrong?" she asked urgently. Harley shook her head helplessly.

"You guys need to come to the dining hall. We've got trouble. It's the Council." She announced gravely. Charley raised a brow while Carbine sucked in a breath, then sped out of the room. Harley gestured for her to follow. Clearly, this Council meant something was wrong. She vaguely remembered the bros mentioning it before, when they had discussed clan Matriarchs and Patriarchs, but not much else. She raced down the hall behind the two women, only to be meet with a large crowd gathering in the dining hall, murmuring amongst themselves before Stoker's loud cry reached her ears.

"You can't be serious." She had never heard Stoker so pissed before. A voice she did not recognize responded.

"I am sorry General, but it is the law. We are merely doing our part in enforcing it." The male voice sounded arrogant and vain, and almost reminded her of the way Limburger spoke. She tried to spot what was happening over the shoulders of the Fighters in front of her, but they were all simply too tall. A hand on her wrist grabbed her attention as she turned her face to Harley, who began pulling her through the crowd as quickly as possible along the side of the room.

"Bullshit! That law hasn't been enforced in over 50 years, and now you suddenly to bring it back again?" Stoker growled. Charley flinched, having never heard the mouse swear before. Whatever was going on was clearly pushing him to the limit.

"Regrettably, the Council has been lax in its duties, but we are intending to rectify that now." A voice that sent shivers down her spine with how slimy it was replied this time. It also sounded older than the first voice.

"It looks to me like a convenient excuse to target one of my best Fighters." Stoker's ground out reply came just as Harley came to a halt beside Carbine. Charley startled as Lance, Scythe and Blade all converged in front of her, as if keeping her out of sight. But they at least left enough room for her to finally see what was going on.

The first people she saw where a group of unknown Mice, six in total. Three of them were dressed in what looked like fancy tunics, all a deep burgundy color with long sleeves and hems that reached the floor. The mouse in the middle looked about in his 40's and was wearing a sort of laurel crown made from a plant she recognized as Serviceberry from her time with Primer. The other two mice stood on either side of him, one on his right in his late 30's, the other probably in his 60's, given the grey beard he had.

'That must be the Council.'

Charley turned her head toward the other three mice, who were looking distinctly uncomfortable. She immediately realized these mice were part of the Martian Army, as their clothing was similar to Carbine's in both color and style. One of the mice, a burly grey furred figure, with a brown military undercut was glancing between the Council and the Fighters, his arms crossed. Charley realized with a start that this mouse was Sergeant Scabbard from the bros tale. He was dressed just as the bros had described, with a red short sleeved shirt with canary colored embellishments indicating his status as a Sergeant. His pants were sepia brown while his belt was a juniper green with a gold colored buckle. And finally, his combat boots were a syrup brown.

'The Army is here? Whatever is happening cannot be good.'

She finally turned her attention towards Stoker, who was standing tall as if he were facing death itself. She could see his face was morphed into an intense scowl, trained solely on the Council. Behind him, standing with fists curled and ready to move at any moment, were Vinnie and Modo. Both had matching scowls on their faces, heads lowered ever so slightly, and she realized they were standing guard.

Throttle was standing behind his bros, stiff as a board. His eyes were wide and glassy, transfixed on the Council. Charley didn't think anything could have terrified her brother, but whatever the Council was trying to do had him scared.

"This has nothing to do with the recent actions of the Freedom Fighters, General Van Rotten." She turned back as the who she assumed was the Leader of the Council spoke, seemingly for the first time as she had not heard his voice before. His voice did not have the slimy or haughty quality of the other two, but it was stern. He gazed at Stoker with an impassive expression. "Matriarch Amelia Threemane died leaving no viable heirs to hold the title of Clan Leader. Her son Throttle is not of age. Therefore, by the laws of Mars, Throttle Threemane must lose his clan status and be banished from our society."

Charley gasped as her hands raised to cover her mouth. The crowd of Freedom Fighters were murmuring louder, and shifting relentlessly. Harley echoed her horrified gasp.

"They can't do that!" she whispered to Carbine. Charley looked to the grey furred mouse to see her grinding her teeth while fixing a fierce glare at the Council.

"They're the Council. They do whatever they goddamn please." She growled low. Charley focused on Throttle again, who was now shaking like a leaf as he glanced between Stoker and Sergeant Scabbard, shifting on his legs as if getting ready to flee. She covered her face with her hands. If she ever needed proof from the universe that she had caused Amelia's death, this was it. Throttle had never been banished in her time, she was sure of this. He had time to become the Patriarch because Amelia had been there to give him the title with no problems. And now, because of her, he was losing everything.

"You have no right to do this!" Stoker shouted, getting up in the leader's face with a snarl. He remained unfazed as he reiterated.

"We have every right, General. We are simply here to uphold our laws. Unless a viable heir steps forward, one of age, we will have no choice but to escort Throttle from these headquarters to the Waterless Barrens."

Charley paused. Of age?

"Mice are only considered old enough to become Patriarchs or Matriarchs at around 26 years."

Charley lowered her hands as Vinnie practically snarled.

"I'd like to see you try!" Modo even went as far as to reach for his weapons.

"You take one step towards our bro and you'll be in for it!" The council member on her left merely rolled his eyes.

"General, control your soldiers." He ordered in a lazy tone. Stoker glared at him.

"Actually, I'm tempted to join them in their threats." He replied.

She considered the Council's implications. It seemed they were here on the basis that Throttle was the last member of his clan and too young to become the new Patriarch.

But he wasn't the last member anymore, was he? And she was of age…

"Enough of this. Sergeant Scabbard, arrest Throttle." The eldest Council member ordered, pointing a knobby finger at Throttle.

She steeled herself, and prayed to God she was right.


Stoker was pissed as hell. The Law of Obscurity was practically an ancient relic, from a time where it was considered shameful to have a small clan. And if you asked Stoker, banishing a Mouse to the Waterless Barrens for simply being an orphan was a barbaric practice that he was glad had been done away with. But apparently, the Council saw it as the perfect way to meddle with the Freedom Fighters efforts. Not that it surprised him, given their dealings with the Plutarkians were what had ultimately convinced the Martian Government into allowing the Stinkfaces to buy land on Mars.

"STOP!"

Stoker spun around to see Charley forcing her way through the crowd from behind Lance and Blade, the two mice eyes going wide and apologetic as they glanced at him. She steadfastly ignored everyone as she made her way to her brother, who was watching her with alarmed eyes.

"Charley?" Throttle whispered. The human merely raised her arms and brought the tan mouse into a hug, one hand stroking his head in a calming manner. The mouse returned the embrace with shaking arms, tucking his head into the crook of her neck, even if the action was slightly awkward due to their height difference. Stoker felt a lump in his throat at the display, one that was immediately soured when High Chancellor Striker reminded him of their presence.

"A human? On Mars?" He glanced at the leader of the council with disapproving eyes, but was shocked when Charley released Throttle and stepped towards them, head held high and shoulders squared. Her face held a silent determination he had seen once before, not too long ago.

"My name is Charlene Davidson-Threemane. Adopted daughter of Amelia Threemane, and sister of Throttle Threemane. I am of age, and thus I invoke the right to become Matriarch of the Threemane clan." The room became silent as a graveyard, and Stoker fought the urge to break out into laughter.

'Atta-girl, Sweetheart.'

"This…this is impossible! A human could not possibly have completed a battle?" Chancellor Rubble squawked, causing Stoker to roll his eyes. Before he could say anything else, the rumble of an engine from the garage made all the heads turn. Comet suddenly burst into the room. Stoker wisely stepped back as she sped towards the Council, pulling tight circles around them before skidding to a stop next to Charley, who did not flinch once at her bike's behavior. This time, Stoker couldn't help the grin when he saw the spark of amusement hidden in her green eyes. Throttle stepped forward to stand on Charley's unoccupied side.

"I stood as witness to my sister's battle. She is a member of the Threemane clan, and therefore, I support her claim as the Matriarch." He declared, voice only minimally betraying his shaken state. Modo stepped up and rested a hand on his bro's shoulder.

"The Maverick Clan stood as witness to Charlene's battle and supports her claim." He declared in a no nonsense voice. Vincent stepped forward next.

"The Van Wham Clan stood as witness to Charlene's battle and supports her claim." Stoker smiled at the bros before another voice rang out.

"The Cannonblade clan supports Charlene's claim." For the first time, Charley's eyes were torn from the Council and landed on Carbine, as she stood with her arms crossed smirking at the Council. He also heard how Scabbard groaned and face-palmed once he realized that it was in fact one of his own soldiers that had made the statement, muttering something about how he didn't deserve this. Stoker cracked a smile before walking over to Charley, Comet beeping a welcome and moving to the side, allowing him to take her place at Charley's side as he turned back to face the Council.

"The Van Rotten clan supports Charlene's claim." He added with a flourish, knowing they had backed them into a corner. With three clans having been witnesses and two additional clans backing her, the Council had no choice but to accept Charley's claim. Of course, they did not know when to quit.

"This is an outrage! A human cannot be a clan Matriarch." Chancellor Breaker shouted, losing his haughty composure to rage at them all. Stoker smirked.

"The law doesn't state she has to be Martian. Only that she is a member of the clan, is of age and/or has a partner to lead with. Charlene Threemane qualifies for the title of Threemane Clan Matriarch." He pointed out with smug expression, knowing he was in the right. Sure, there had never been a human matriarch before, but Stoker had full faith in Charley to be the first. Chancellor Rubble clearly had other ideas though.

"You cannot-!"

"Peace, Chancellor Rubble." High Chancellor Striker raised his hand, silencing his colleague, who was not at all impressed, but kept his tongue. He turned his attention to Charley. "How long have you been with the Freedom Fighters, Miss Charlene? I would assume word of a human on Mars would have reached the Council by now." The last statement was clearly aimed at him, but Stoker didn't give a damn. If they were too busy lining their pockets with Plutarkian gold gills, who was he to keep them informed of anything?

"I arrived just over two months ago. I have been part of the Threemane clan for the last two weeks. That is all I feel comfortable sharing, Chancellor." She ended with a solid tone. He could see how Striker twitched at the slight, whether intentional or not…though knowing Charley, it was likely intentional.

"And you think yourself capable of being the Matriarch of the Threemane clan?" he stressed, clearly trying to intimidate her. Charley was having none of it, giving a solid nod in response. He stared at her for the longest time before continuing. "Very well, the Council shall acknowledge your claim. On one condition." Stoker became tense at the High Chancellor's words, knowing that something was about to go horribly wrong, but Charley did not seem to sense the incoming threat.

"Name it." She challenged. The High Chancellor smirked.

"You must complete the trial of Orthos."

Stoker felt like his body had been dunked in ice. He could distantly hear the horrified gasps and whispers of the Fighters through the ringing in his ears. Glancing to his side he could see the matching horrified expressions on the bros faces, as well as Carbine and Harley's. The trial of Orthos was as ancient as the Law of Obscurity, and so dangerous that it was rarely invoked. Hundreds of Mice had been killed trying to complete the trial, and the High Chancellor knew it. Turning his face back to Charley, he realized she was still focused on the Chancellor, who had continued speaking.

"If you should succeed, the Council shall acknowledge your claim. And as an added boon, should anything happen to you in these… trying times, your brother shall retain his clan status, until he is of age and may take on the role of Patriarch himself." Stoker sucked in a breath, knowing exactly what the Chancellor was doing. He was manipulating her into taking a deal too sweet to turn down. Before either he or Throttle could do anything, Charley sealed her fate.

"Deal." Stoker felt like he couldn't breathe as he watched the High Chancellor smile.

"So be it. The Trial is set for three weeks hence." He announced to the room, turning on his heel and motioning for his group to follow, casting one last glance back at them. "Good luck, Miss Charlene."


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