The Good Plutarkian, a biker mice from mars fanfic

Disclaimer. I don't own BMFM; this story is just for fun. The characters are trademarks.

Mars Wars Chronicles The Good Plutarkian

(Based on the Good Samaritan Parable.)

By Tygsy

General Alexander Cottage watched the two moons rising. He sighed contentedly. Life was good. He had been designed to command the Mars battles and so far he was getting significant victories for his planet. The wretched rodents had learnt to respect him and he could see the prisoners showed a deference for him that they didn't show to anyone else. Not that they liked him. He knew of the jokes and the non-pronounceable names that he was called on his back. But he also could see that even the most graduated rank mice prisoners respected him and feared him; that was written on their eyes. As much an enemy can be respected anyway. Also considering that he never heard of any other fellow Plutarkian that had earned this respect, he had to gave the Martian some worm credit points (for them its equal to our cookie credit points... yucky. but they are fish, what you expected?).

Mars had been a thorn into his Lord's Camembert's shoes for a long time. Officially this planet lost in this even more lost galaxy was insignificant. A mosquito that could not be killed but annoyed nevertheless. Cottage knew extra officially this was not so. Mars was respected, thought this wasn't even hinted or mentioned, among the power circles in Plutark as a very difficult planet to take over.

Alexander wondered why. Most of its resources were gone, the population, according to official war reports had been reduced to 2000. Life in the red planet was considered unviable; even those primitive humans had come to that obvious conclusion. The general always suspected war reports; they tended to be false or with altered results, the least. He knew his people to well to be fooled over. The Plutark rulers were over puffed with pride. They would rather add several thousands of dead or captured mice, just to not admit they had failed to reach that amount and the mice had taken the better. This was annoying and could be troublesome. Especially in a battle. How much resistance he should expect? He had lost many valuable warriors because of the misreports. He had expected to find a city defenseless and all of sudden, his army had been surrounded by those bikes. All right. There HAD been Freedom Fighters among the mice that fought for the city. But Alexander was sure that only the leaders were FF, his army trained eyed recognized the military training and strategies they took. The great gross of Martian fighting for the cities were civilians. He knew the FF were very elusive. One could never tell where they would come from or when. The Plutarkian army could only count on that they would show up, sooner or later.

With the help of the rats' allies, the general could gather info of the after battle and what happened on the city. What he heard made him boil. They could have taken the city easily, if wasn't for their higher commands insist in diminish the mice, and reduce, on paper, their real number. They had lost the battle by a little bit. Lost also the chance of take precious FF information source. All because he had the wrong numbers.

He learned his lesson tough. He never told his superiors, but he began to release his information much more on the rats and sand raiders reports, than on his official fellows. He despised these creatures, but had to admit they were useful and smart. If they passed Alexander the wrong info, just once, the deal was off and so the war profits they obtained. They also saw that this Plutarkian was no fool and, strangely a man of honor. He lived for his deals. With their information, the general won battles. With won battles, they could share the prisoners. Alexander even assured his helpers had his part of the city water supply. With that he made this mercenaries lives a bit better and they were grateful to him. The deal he had made was about the prisoners. The water was a plus that could be taken any moment. As the Sand Raiders and rats also needed the water, even if at minimal body requirements, they passed true data for Alexander.

The general could take the slaves he wanted for his services. He had priority on the choosing, except for Freedom Fighters and the militaries. Those he had specific orders to send to Plutark. Their battle training made them too dangerous to be used as common slaves.

The civil population, well, as good mice they were, there was always number enough to pay the Sand Raiders and rats for the help. Those Martians didn't want much either. They worked in black market and the less and the better merchandise they had the higher the price they obtained. So it wasn't difficult satisfy them, for they had not interest in large quantities of prisoners. Alexander also found out, the more slaves they got, the higher the chances of slave head losses, for Mars environment was inclement. So were the FF toward the ones that sold their fellows. And the more complicated was the logistic to transport, keep them alive till they reached the buyer and all. Neither the Sand Raiders nor Rats cared for their fellow planeteers, but they wanted them alive enough so the deal could be completed and their payment received.

The general family was here at Mars with him. Plutarkians had conquered Emerald City and had made there their own fortress city. It had been being well defended from the Martians since it had been taken, being one of the few cities that could not be recovered.

Cottage had got one of the best houses. After it was restored he moved in with his family; his wife Piscilla and his two kids. The other commanders envied him. He was not born from noble houses; he was only mere unknown parents fish spawn that grew on Plutark worst districts. That what was gave him the fighting surviving experience and an insight about battles, that his so said well-bred colleagues lacked. Cottage wasn't fat either; he had gained some weight since he reached the higher ranks on war. But never reached the obesity of the rulers of Plutark. To horror of his fellow comrades he stuck to thin body and let aside the worms. They were tasty but full of grease. Alexander associated the thin body as constant recall of where he grew up, a place that he was thankful, despite of the hardeneship.

With all the wrong info his fellow fighters passed him, planning that he failed and with that fell in disgrace and left the Plutark aristocracy eyes once for all, that bastard still managed to keep mice away and get the best slaves and best housing district in this blasted planet.

Alexander was now moving to his summer home at Mons Oceanus with his family. It was fresher there during the summer; he could get a little rest from the fighting matters. The Freedom Fighters had been kept at bay; a stalemate had been established. The FF moves didn't retrocede, but didn't advance either, and with that, Alexander could leave war matter to the men he trusted and take a few days to enjoy some good time with his family.

Atlantis was a smaller city but well defended as well from Martians. It was located at strategic point to keep track of the FF activities. To its North, there were the Wild Coral Reef Mountains (the fish had given those names, they considered Mars belonging to them so they renamed all the cities and geographical places. To make clear to mice who had the whip on Mars.). Where they suspected that FF base and maybe the Martian Air Force and Army bases were located. Trouble was, there were so many mountains, and with Martian rich heavy metal soil, (even with all Plutark plundering) that none of their instruments could tell exactly where the bases were located. The huge amount of metal on the Martian soil messed up with their instruments and measuring results... How it didn't affect the Martians instruments, especially their plagued bikes either; it was still a mystery to be solved.

It had been tried the bombing there once, to try to get the mice out. They did get some unfortunate ones. But when they came closer to check where those mice could have surfaced from they found nothing but the body parts spread everywhere. Either the mice had moved deep inside the mountains, toward the bowls of the Mars or they had hit some rodents that had left their bases for some chore and could be from few feet to thousands of miles from the base. No way to be certain. The bikes that had not been in the explosion activated self- destruction programs, so not even their speedometer or the mileage marker could be obtained. They were just on wrong place at wrong time... In either way they found no trace where the others could be or even their bases.

Subsequent bombings brought no better results. If the mice were actually down the bowls of the planet, they would not be stupid to get out. If they weren't there it would be a lost of time keep the bombing, even with the entire rich mineral they could plunder. The Plutarkians plunder machines would be to far away from any nearest help, not to mention that that huge amount of metal would not allow them work as it didn't the war machines and vehicles do.

The travel to Atlantis was dangerous. They would have to cross the Wild Coral Reef area, the ravines and the path across the mountains. Every Plutarkian knew that going into that path was to be in the FF territory.

Cottage had decided to take the dangerous route. He was no coward. He had grown up in the worst and toughest streets of Plutark Main City. He rather died here fighting than tuck his tail under his legs like he had seen his comrades do. His family was brave too and he was proud of them. His kids, Tuna and Fondue already were good at sword maneuvering and laser blasting and could very well defend themselves. Piscilla came from a military traditional family; she knew the bravery and the war ways. He wanted raise his kids as he had been raised. In the fire of fight. Plutark already had enough coward children for his taste.

Another reason made him took this route. Thanks to another job of he damned FF, the shortest way between Emerald City and Atlantis were blockaded, so he would have to take the route through Coral Reef Mountains likening it or not. The caravan stopped some miles ahead of the Mountains. Their rocky fortress could see at horizon.

"What's wrong, Fella?" he asked to his mouse slave. Piscilla warned the kids to be ready, get their lasers.

One of the scouts came back. " A mouse sir. He seems to be hurt."

"A FF?"

"Seems so sir. Seems there had been a battle not long ago. There is a lot of them dead right ahead."

"The FF don't leave their dead behind."

"Agree, sir. May I speak my opinion?"

"Talk Ricotta."

"My opinion is that no one was left alive sir. The base doesn't know of the battle results yet."

Piscilla eyed her husband. " That can't be a good thing, my lord. While those rodents are busy with their dead... we can pass in safety."

"You stay here with our honor guards. I will survey the situation."

"Don't take long, my lord. We are in the enemy field."

"Mars IS the enemy field"

He went to the area. No doubt it had been a heavy battle. Losses for both sides. No one alive here, for what he could see. So where was the mouse the scout had seen? He heard screams from his right. Getting of his laser he kicked his ride toward there. He could not see right what was going on. It was like the sand had become alive. He got his binoculars. Ska'ash. Fighting the sand?? No, it was a mouse but his fur was the wet sand color. It was as the ground of Mars had lifted itself and was facing the Ska'ash, the Martian carrion eaters. A Martian mouse, alone? Facing those killers? But why? His battle was a lost one; the mouse was evidently on his forces limit. He focused better and could notice the Ska'ashes were flying low, over two other lain mice. The sand ground colored one was trying to pass the ones who blocked him from his companions. Risking his life to not leave the other two to the animals, ones that were probably dead long ago. By his condition, he had been on the previous battlefield and would not last much longer.

Cottage could have turned around, and forgot all of it, just let the mice for the Martian animals. But the mouse fighting called his attention.

"This mouse is barely standing. Still he is using all his last forces to save his comrades and if possible give them a decent burial. That is bravery. Honor. That mouse got my consideration. I will see what I can do. If he dies when I arrive, at least I can bury him. He doesn't deserve to be left for animals."

He waved toward his caravan and signed to them follow toward the mice direction. When they reached there, the tan one had lost his forces and the Ska'ashes were landed over the mice, already biting them. Cottage blew fire on the birds. "Fella, check if they are alive."

"Da?"

"Sir?" his wife looked at him. " Stop here and be caught by those terrorists?"

Cottage nodded. The tan one scenting the Plutarkians made a tremendous effort and lifted enough to point his guns to his bros.

Fella turned to Cottage.

"They are still alive sir."

Her eyes turned to the fallen mice, dreading for their future. She knew how hard her master could be when needed.

Cottage turned to the tan one. He could notice white streaks under the tan color. Looking closely, he saw, shocked, that the mouse was actually white. The Mars sand color ground got plastered on him with blood and sweat, totally changing his original fur color. " What are you doing?"

"I saw what you kind can do. They had already suffered enough on your people sick hands. I rather kill them myself than allow you put your dirty fins on them". He nodded toward the fallen comrades and he pulled the trigger. His eyes had some wild, insane look.

Cottage took the gun from the mouse easily. The fake tan mouse faced him. Hatred on his eyes. And defeat too. For not being able to save his bros from fate would be worse than death.

Alexander called one of his men on the caravan. " Doctor Blue Cheese. Please attend those Martians."

The lady doctor eyed him in shock. " You must be kidding. Save an wretched rodent?"

"One no. Three. Now."

"Your commander will hear from this."

"I deal with him later. Do it Soldier."

The doctor wrinkled her nose to the sweaty mice. " We are camping here?"

"No. Let's keep moving. I don't know what is keeping the FF from coming, but I surely don't want meet them." He turned to his guards. Check them for weapons. I want they receive all medical care, but they are still enemies, so I want them well guarded."

"AYE SIR."

The tan mouse wrinkled with the scent announcing the coming of his captor. He was put in a room separated from his bros, and heavily guarded by different scents that reached his sensitive nostrils.

A collar around his neck. He knew what this meant. If he passed by the neck pre programmed boundary limits, he would die, have ultimate pain or pass out. Aside that he was free, to move around the room. He couldn't tough. He was too weak for that. His captor stopped by the bed.

"Where are my bros?"

"Alive. And under medical care; do you have a name?"

The tan one hesitated; if this was an interrogatory...was the nicest he ever saw.

"Throttle." His voice was dry meaning it was all info he would provide voluntarily.

"I'm General Alexander Cottage."

The mouse froze.

* He knows me. Knows he is in deep shit. *

"I have heard of you. Why you saved us?"

"I was impressed with you friend fighting those Ska'ashs. Why did he do that?"

" What are your plans toward us?"

"Still thinking. I checked the Plutark files. You three are very wanted."

"So you saved us for the reward?"

Cottage eyed the mouse. " I already got my reward." He left the room.

Throttle stared the ceiling, thinking. He tried to get out of bed and his legs buckled under his body. When he reached the window the head began to tingle, warning he was reaching boundary zone. He tried a bit more, the pain was unbearable. He retraced.

* Not now. I need see my bros first...assure their safety.*

He went to door. The collar warned.

"You can't pass, vermin." The guard spit on him.

"I want see my brothers." He demanded, cleaning the droll f his face with disgust.

"Forget it. I don't know why the general worried about saving your wretched miserable tail. Must be for the reward. We all will swim in gold coins. Don't even think leaving. Atlantis is full of Plutarkians."

*Atlantis* Throttle shivered even more. One of the best -guarded fortresses of the stinking fish on Mars. Emerald City was the only one surpassed it. He was inside a well- guarded bank safer and he knew that. He doubted the FF could save them.

His only comfort was Fella. She had gentle hands and bathed him, changed his bandages. Through her he could get news from his bros. Vinny was well chained, due his own fault. He had always fought everyone who entered the room, so the only way was to restrain him. Strangely Modo had been left with his bio arm intact, only unloaded. It still was a treat itself, tough, due the giant force. He had been left kind of free as well, with only the collar on him. Throttle eyed the collar on Fella. It was different from theirs hers marked her as slave. It was V-shaped with a gem on it. She saw where he was looking at.

She ignored it and unlid the tray. A yummy food was there.

"For me?" Throttle eyed her.

"Eat what you can. T he doctor said your chest was still pretty hurt, you should have trouble into gulping down."

"And My bros?"

"They are getting same food." Throttle mouth watered but he covered the lid.

"I don't want anything from him."

"You need to eat. Acting like child won't help you or your bros."

"Why he is treating us so well? He knows what we are."

"Yes, he does. Still he gave orders to you receive all you need."

" Why? What he wants to conquer?"

"That I don't know."

Throttle looked the food.

"Don't worry. It's not poisoned. He could have been real hard on you guys if he wanted to."

Throttle eyed her. " I sorry, sweetheart. I cannot accept nothing from him."

She wanted to mention the already accepted the medical care, but decided otherwise. She took the plate away.

Vinny watched Fella come.

"Nice seeing you again sweetheart. Missed me?"

"One more comment like that I may think is not a good idea free you." She tinkled the keys in front of him. " I may think it isn't safe for me."

He eyed her seriously. " I won't hurt you. You have my word."

"Right!" She was sarcastic.

"You trust a Plutarkian and don't trust a fellow Martian?"

"It's exactly for you be a Martian and mice that I am weary."

Vinny reared his antennae in shock. " Did I hear right? You trust that worm ballon more than me? A Plutarkian over a Martian?".

"You heard right!" She said dryly.

"Why are you freeing me them?"

"I had my orders. You will be allowed to see your brothers, go to their rooms and talk to them. Each of you will be allowed 4 hours to roam around the house for exercising. Do something stupid and you will be locked permanently. The instructions are valid to each one of you."

"And the others?"

"Each other two will be locked in their rooms. We know very well how dangerous you three are together. So if you have a little decency, thank my master next time he come to see how you are."

"I will not thank a**&%*¨$@@()$% Plutarkian for anything.

"He worth more than thousands of Martian mice

"You are a turncoat; He hissed."

"I'm a survivor. And I know where right and wrong lays."

"You need to make a brain examination sweetheart."

"Seems they started to do on you." She stared his mask. Vinny huffed, his fur turning him twice his size.

"Too bad they didn't do a good job. They lost a wonderful opportunity. They could have made a surgery on your tongue as well."

She left room leaving a very pissed Vinny behind. He ran after her, being glad he could pass the door, held her arm firmly.

"I suggest you to behave mouse, Unless you want to go back to the chains and muzzle again." She shook the dog-like muzzle that had been on his snout. Two guards came toward him, weapons drawn. Fella lifted a hand.

" The mouse will behave. He want see his bros, right?" She eyed him.

Vinny balled his fists but nodded. He turned toward Modo's room and flopped on the ground. Passing out. He had been the most attacked by the Ska'ash. Several parts of his body skin had been pulled by the sharp beaks of the birds. Only his stamina had kept him conscious al this time.

"Get Doctor Blue Cheese." She said with disgust.

Modo watched the incoming caravan aiming to the house main door. He bared his teeth in a snarl. He knew what that meant. Those were coming to get them to Plutark. He sighed sadly, releasing some of his trapped tension. Deep inside he had hoped that Cottage was different. Vinny never had believed that and Throttle had decided to give the fish the doubt benefit.

Alexander had been treating him and his bros with courtesy, much more than they could expect from a stinking fish. They had been allowed to see each other, got the all the medical care they needed and the meals were just too good to be true.

Strangely, Cottage had not questioned them. Well, not the way the Plutarkians used to do. Their host had made them general questions about Mars way of life. Some things about their own lives, if they were married, had kids... and all. They had been mute about their own private lives and surprisingly the fish didn't pry more. As for Mars way of life, they were not sure what to say. The Plutarkian had not asked anything he could not have observed himself on a prisoner's camp, or a taken city. Not providing the info was becoming uncomfortable. Their host was always polite, gentle and cared for their needs. The mice were becoming to feel themselves acting with unnecessarily rudeness.

Was this a new interrogatory form? Or the Plutarkian could be not as bad as they thought, as that slave girl was always pointing out to them? Could he be really just being nice and the three of them were being the rude ones? Did they actually need to create a tension and be indisposed with the Plutarkian just because he was what he was?

Modo suffered more from the three. Vincent played tough and indifferent, but Modo knew that deep inside his bro was starting to have his doubts as well. Throttle as usual, had kept his thoughts to himself. He would talk to the others when he felt he was ready.

Modo was feeling himself guilty. That was not the way his mom had taught him and he was pretty aware of that. He could take the Plutarkian painful interrogatory. All this niceness was driving him crazy. He felt divided between his loyalties to Mars and his mother bringing up ways. He was almost begging to Plutarkians to give him a chance to punch them on the guts. As he found out later, the others shared his feelings.

The guards were at first torturing them, making clear every minute that they were just being fattened for the sacrificial blade. That an army was on their way to get them and make sure they traveled to Plutark.

The mice had smiled knowing the reasons the Plutarkian army was delayed. The FF could not free them, but could give others that tried to reach city a lot of trouble.

Now their death scout had finally arrived. Modo could see the small surface transporter ship that landed on the gateways of the general property and the scout that came to take them.

The mice had been locked on their rooms the day before the committee arrival. That had hurt Modo more than if he had been shot. He had really had had hopes...

Vincent watched the incoming guards from his window too and lowered head. He wasn't afraid of his future. He knew the worst was yet to come. He was disappointed with Cottage. Deep inside he was starting to trust that guy. He looked at his now growing fur, where once the skin had been peeled by the hungry beaks. Cottage and his wife had worked a small miracle. The skin had been glued back, with an organic natural glue and was now healing itself. Soon not even the scars would have been left. "* New ones will be made. You can count on Plutark for that.* he thought bitterly. He would never tell his bros, but was scared as hell. He recalled pretty clearly when half of his face skin had been churned and pulled out. He didn't think he could pass through all that again.

Cottage had shown his true face on the last two days. He didn't hurt them, but made clear he was a Plutark servant. His tone of voice had changed from gentle to harsh and snapping. He supervised the mice chaining with a stone face.

*That serves you right for trusting a stinking fish* Vinny thought bitterly.

The mice were taken toward the waiting ship. The newcomers guards beat them brutally. The three were defenseless with the Plutarkian steel glass restrainers. Their faces were on the ground and they smiled to each other meaningfully. They scooted against the wall that surrounded the property, their tails glued to their body, like scared mice do. The Plutarkians smiled evilly and came to grab them. They were stopped by sudden lasers. Coming from everywhere the FF jumped the high brick wall with their bikes like wild angered Doomsday riders.

The fish faces were taken by totally surprise and didn't take much to all be captured. HayStack had brought the guys bikes and they had time to be freed and join the fray before everything was ended.

"How? Parmesan roared. " How the alarms didn't sound? How he defense systems were not activated?" climbed the ship, now guarded by two pairs of armed FF at each boarding plank sides.

Cottage was the last to be brought. He interchanged glances with the mice and went aboard with dignity.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Vinny whispered. " That helped us?"

Throttle nodded. " The FF could never entered Atlantis or this house walls without his inside help."

"Why he did that?"

"Because he is a Plutarkian of honor."

His bros nodded and the three of them watched the fish disappear into the ship with a true respect and admiration for the General.

THE END