Yay! On it's first day I got a review, and I was so happy! Then I gots another....HURRAH! O Anyways, here's the second chapter, and although it is only a bit longer, it has more interesting stuff happen. Cause, well...I get bored easily, and try to spice up my fanfics when I do. So, here it is, my second installation of 'Child's Play' ....TO THE REVIEWS!!!
SamuraiPrincess01: Aw, thanks for being the first reviewer! You really think its cute, cause that's what I was going for. But as it gets into the story, it'll get more serious...Who is Streak, why'd they leave M.M with Charlie? Will I ever have my cake and eat it too? Oh, ahem. Yes, well, keep reviewing, and I'll keep writing!
Intrepidwarriors: Yep, 14 going on 15. I'm glad you enjoy it so much, it's really kind to know people like my work as much as I like writing it. Even more so, at some points. Anyway, Motor Mouth is what I picture a 6 year old would be like. Funny thing is, I don't like kids myself, so this is kinda foreign for me. I hope you'll keep you're word, cause I got another BMFM idea brewin' in my brain. Thanks for your review!
Disclaimer: I dun own Biker Mice From Mars, cause if I did, Vinnie would show us what he hides under that mask...Oo Candy, perhaps? J/k! But I do own Motor Mouth, Julie, and Streak, so dun take them unless ya ask...Even though I don't know why you'd wanna steal them..
An unknown child, not particularly special, had ended up on the 'doorstep' of Charlie Davidson. Unsure of what to do, Throttle and Modo had decided to see what information they could gather on the abandoner. It was clean they went by 'Streak' for the child always brought it up. The question was, where to look first.
They had agreed on a bar, since that was where most bikers would hang out. 'Especially the sleezy kind that would abandon a child', as Modo had put it. So there they were, in the 'Slop Hop' and were trying to gather the whereabouts of Streak.
Smoke wafted in the air, and if it weren't for their helmets, the mice would have chocked. Every stereotypical biker was there, drinking; belting out show tunes in a drunken stupor. The lighter of the two grimaced, glad that the helmet helped to keep most of the high-pitched notes out. He headed towards a stool, eyeing the people as suspects. So far, none had matched the description Charlie had given him.
"What's yer poison, big boy...?" An attractive bartender asked Throttle as he sat down, helmet still on his head.
He blinked, surprised for a moment, then slid back, and waved his hand, "Naw, we're here for business, not pleasure..." He turned to Modo, who was trying to decline a drunken woman as politely as he could.
The grey mouse blushed under his helmet, yet waved his hands trying to keep the lady off of him, "Ah don't reckon you know what you're sayin' ma'am..."
"Sure I do...You're strong. (hic!) I bet you could last a while..." She was cut off by a tap on her shoulder, and (much to Modo's relief) was distracted by the same bartender.
The brunette crossed her arms, and scowled down at the drunken redhead, "Cindy, where did you get that liquor? I could have sworn I cut you off an hour ago..."
"I brought my (hic!) own!"
The bartender rolled her eyes, and dragged the drunk out, tossing her into the street. It was a comical sight, and many men laughed. Someone cried out, "Aw, let her stay!" and earned a smack from a nearby girl.
Tossing her brown hair back, she sauntered back to the two mice, and shook her head. Eyeing them, she crossed her arms, and pushed up her glasses, "You were saying something about business?"
Throttle bit back his confused questions, and shook his head, "Uh yeah. We were looking for someone, ma'am..."
"Julie."
"A snake named Streak. You know anything, Julie-ma'am?" Modo practically rumbled the question. He was getting a bit peeved, and wanted to find the guy, so he could pound his face in.
One would expect by the look on her face, the bar's activity should have frozen. But no, barely anybody paid them any mind, and only the people closest to them began to edge away. Snapping out of her stupor, the brown haired beauty walked quickly behind the counter, and began to mix up drinks.
"Haven't the slightest..." Her voice shook, and she accidentally spilled some vodka on the bar. She mopped it up, not looking them in the face.
The leader saw right through her act, although it wasn't a hard thing to do, for she was shaking like a leaf. "Ma'am, please..." he sighed, "Tell us what you know."
Her voice came out more than a whisper, and she shook her head, "No way. I ain't getting into the middle of it...They'd take away my bar." She looked up suddenly, eyes fierce, "Get. Out."
Modo scowled. She was acting as if they had threatened her, "Excuse me ma'am, but we haven't insulted you, have we?" His voice held confusion, and she returned her gaze to the bar.
"You guys are too sweet. Just...Get out, and mind your own business!" She reached under the bar, and pulled out a gun.
The mice froze, staring at the revolver in shock. She didn't seem like the type to shoot anyone, yet there she was, murder in her eyes gun ready. They backed away, hands held up in a non-threatening manner.
"Now, I don't wanna shoot you, but I will if I have too. Get. Out." Her voice dropped, and she put a bit more pressure on the trigger.
"Looks like she means it, bro. Let's get out of here..." Throttle shot her an angry glare, before turning around, and strutting out.
Modo turned his head, expression hidden by his helmet, "Ah am very disappointed in you, ma'am. Very un-lady like..." and he was gone.
Sighing in relief, Julie the bartender slumped against her bar. 'To bad for those boys, but I can't risk my daddy's bar like that...even if it is to help out Streak n' Motor Mouth...'
Outside, Throttle turned to Modo, and clapped him on the back. "Don't worry bro! There are other bars in this city!"
It seemed to cheer the gray mouse up a bit, and he mounted Lil' Hoss, "Ah suppose...'Sides it coulda been worse."
"How?" The leader cocked a brow in interest.
Revving up his beloved ride, the gray mouse shot down the street, and called back to his bro, "She coulda had country music playin!"
Back at the Last Chance Garage, things weren't going well either. In fact, one could say it was going worse.
After cleaning up Motor Mouth's puke, (A job that Vinnie did not enjoy) there was dealing with a hyperactive six year old. She had thrown up in a spur of the moment kind of thing, and felt fine after expelling her stomach's contents. As it would seem, the less food she had, the faster she became.
We don't really know where children get their energy; all anyone really knows is that they have A LOT of it. Especially those under the age of 10. As it would seem, Vincent VanWham, and Charlene Davidson were blessed with such a task, as to try and calm her down. The garage was a visual of their failure to do so, an unknown substance dripping from the ceiling, and oil splattered everywhere.
Amusingly enough, Motor Mouth didn't have a speck on her.
Her two sitters, however, were a different story. Vinnie could have passed off as Grease Pit. If he were a different species, and weighed a lot more, and...well...you get the idea. He was dirty, okay? Geez...what do ya want from me?
"Can you get on with it?" Charlie bellowed, at the Author, before rolling her eyes.
Fine, fine. Anyway, the female was in even worse shape than the Martian rodent. She was smudged with unmentionable contents, her hair matted with motor oil and grease. She leaned against the doorframe, watching the child chase Vinnie's tail as he tried to run away.
"I've beaten up a mechanical monster..." He dodged again, his tail slipping through her grasps, "And I've blown up Limburger's tower countless times...But I can't handle a munchkin?" The white mouse slid on a puddle of oil, and fell on his back. He tried to blink away the pain, and came face to face with Motor Mouth.
"...TAG! You're it!" She took off squealing, a high-pitched noise that almost caused his ears to bleed.
"Gah!" His eyes popped open, and he covered his sensitive ears.
She soon stopped her yelp of glee, when she realized she was causing Vinnie pain. And it wasn't the normal, 'running into the wall pain' that they had endured so many times while chasing her. Motor Mouth edged her way to the curled up mouse, and prodded his shoulder. Not getting a response, she shook his arm roughly.
Only to scream as he turned around and grabbed her.
"Ha! Modo's not the only one that can trick a tyke!" He grinned triumphantly, keeping the child as far away from his crotch as physically possible.
Even if his arms kept her away from any potential hit points, she grunted and kicked anyway, "Lemme go! LET GO! NO FAAAAAAAIIIIIR!!!!"
Charlie patted her rodent friend on the shoulder, dodging one of the child's wild kicks, "Not bad...You'd make an okay dad, Vinnie..."
He couldn't help himself, and grinned slyly at her, "Wanna help me practice?" Which quickly earned him an evil glare.
"....Riiiight. Lets get this kid into a bath and a bed!"
The mechanic scratched her head, "Why? She's not dirty!" The child hung limp by her armpits, and was turned around. A layer of muck was stuck to her back. "Oooooh...good idea."
"I'm chock full of 'em, Sweetheart!"
"You're full of something all right," she muttered, following him up her stairs. It was bad enough Motor Mouth was dripping on the carpet, but his shoes left giant stains. 'Oh man...this is going to cost me a fortune in carpet cleaners!'
After her mental cry, she noticed that her fellow babysitter had stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the bathroom. Turning suddenly, (and adding a few splats to the hall) he held out the child to her. "Here! You give her a bath!" He said almost frightened.
Charlie barely had time to catch Motor Mouth, before staring at him, confused. "What's wrong?" She examined the girl, before concluding that there was nothing wrong with her.
"I ain't gonna give her a bath!" His eyes widened, very out of character, though comical.
"Why not!?" The two females cried in unison.
He lowered his voice, as well as his ears "She's a girl!"
"Ugh! Men!" She would have thrown her hands in the air, but they were full of muddy child. Motor mouth tried her best to look around at Charlie, but it was a difficult task. Still, the smart aleck kid chided her.
"Don't you mean...'Ugh! Mice!'?"
Vinnie smirked, before making his way away from the two, "Kid's gotta point..." he ruffled her hair on the way out.
Narrowing her eyes, the mechanic shot his back a look before entering the bathroom. It was spotless, yet that would soon change. Charlie set the child down on the counter, before undressing her and tossing her clothes into the sink.
"We'll let those soak...now, how about we get you all cleaned up?" She said in the most positive voice she could muster after the child had not only torn up her garage, but had messed her and Vinnie up.
Nodding, Motor Mouth waited for the auburn haired beauty to turn her back, before the six year old shot her a look that clearly stated 'Yeah, Right.' The look quickly washed away as Charlie turned back around.
"All right, Miss Charlene Ma'am!" The girl said in the cutest voice possible.
'Now, see? This isn't going to be so bad...' The mechanic though, completely unaware that she was in the clutches of a devil incarnate. An overexcited child, with enough energy to power a large city.
In the living quarters, Vincent VanWham had decided to chill with a couple of hotdogs and a cold root beer. He flipped through the channels, colorless ear twitching at the sound of running water. Feet lying on top of the coffee table before him, his thoughts wandered lazily as he bit down onto the various pig parts.
'I wonder how Charlie-girl's fairin' against Motor Mouth...'
Now, in a movie, or book, something would sound to answer his mental question. He focused on his ears, yet heard nothing except the running water. It was strange, how quiet the child could be once under control. Sighing slightly he let his eyes droop slightly, never realizing taking care of a kid could be so much work.
'Was I that bad at her age?'
His thoughts traveled to the peaceful past, of his mother who was long gone, yet sadness was not what he was focusing on. Instead, Vinnie thought of the calm days when his mother made time to play with him. He remembered a time when he had wanted to be a biker so badly, and she had bought him a bicycle. It wasn't a motorcycle, but he was 9 at the time, and it was the thought that counted.
'I don't want you to go breaking you're neck, Vincent.' She stared worried, as he did a few jumps on his new racing bike.
'Don't worry mom! It's really saaaaaafe!' He tumbled; head first, falling off his bike as he landed wrong on a particularly large jump.
She had rushed to his side, 'Vincent!'
He popped his head out of the trash can pile, grinning like a madman. That one point, he had felt as if he could break something, and a rush of adrenaline surged threw his body. 'Whata rush!' the juvenile grinned up at his mother, 'Don't worry! I landed on my head!'
She had laughed then, happy that he was safe. That was the last time she had really smiled, before the Plutarkians had attacked.
"YAH!" A large splash, and Charlie's yelp caught his attention, snapping him out of his stupor.
With a blank face, he listened to the thumping of tiny, naked feet come down the stairs. Still blinking in confusion, he watched as Motor-Mouth ran past him, bubbles flying off of her.
Next, Charlie came stomping down the same steps; her whole upper torso was soaked. The biker mouse grinned, appreciating the way her shirt became skin like. Shooting him a flustered glare, she plodded after the child.
"...No! Don't tought the motor-"a splash sounded, as well as an 'ewww' from the hyperactive six year old.
"-oil...VINCENT! Get over here and help me!"
He chugged down the rest of his root beer, before crushing it in his grip, "The Calvary is on its way...." The mouse grinned, wanting to see if Charlie-girl had dried herself or not. It would make his job a lot more manageable if he had some sort of focus point...
"I swear, I don't know nuthin!" The half drunk male stared up into the face of a fearsome fiend. IT had gray fur, glowing crimson eyes, and had him up against the wall. This devastatingly scary monster was, of coarse, a very pissed off Modo.
"Yeah, right, now spill it 'fore Ah spill you!" The Martian growled, pressing harder on his arm that held the man against a wall.
It was in the slums of the city, even worse than the area Charlie had set up her garage. Deep into the gutter, and the ghetto of Chi-Town. Although, it was a lot better than the one in New York, but I digress.
When the two mice had been cruising through the streets, they asked as politely to where Streak was at. Almost all of the responses were the same. A shaky 'I don't know who you're talking about' and then they would hurry away. This unfortunate little Earther had the stupidity to answer not only rudely, but with a smug air. He obviously knew something, and didn't expect one of the friendly bikers to tackle him.
"H-h-hey buddy!" He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, and looked over at Throttle. The leader calmly faced him, his features hidden under his helmet.
"Yeah..?" he answered coolly, as if uninterested.
"Call 'im off! I mean, ya ain't gonna let this maniac kill me!?" He seemed hysterical, eyes darting around for a way to escape his attackers wrath. It was hopeless, his feet dangling above the ground, oxygen becoming scarce.
Throttle smirked warily inside the safety of his helmet. Now there was a thought. Modo certainly seemed eager enough to hurt the guy, but the question was, why? Thinking back to the beginning of their search, he had slowly noticed his bro's growing agitation. His thoughts turned to Motor-Mouth, and he nodded, understanding. The gray mouse wasn't mad at the man. He was furious at Streak, and was taking his anger out on this poor sap.
That wasn't like Modo, at all. He was the one that kept his cool, until a battle, or confrontation. Yet, the past never had children on the line...well, in this way, that is. And with his bro's adoration for little ones, there was no telling what he would do.
"Hey, this can all be avoided if ya just tell us what you know..." Throttle waved his hand, using his companion's anger as a threat. And a good one too.
"Okay, ok-KAY!" He choked out the last part, as Modo growled and pushed harder. The large mouse then relaxed his hold, and let the man take a much-needed breath. His pale face became pinker, and he looked up, eyes wide.
"Yeah, yeah! Okay, nobody knows Streak, kay? Well, they've never talked to 'im!" he looked around, expecting the mysterious biker to jump out and attack him on the spot. "Like, Motor-Mouth would take for 'em, real creepy too cause you never saw Streak tell her what to say..."
He trailed off, noticing Modo's weary expression. It was what Charlie had described earlier; she had never actually heard the biker talk. Brow furrowed, he tapped the wall with his mechanical arm, an ever-present threat to the human before him.
"Go on..." Throttle's voice rumbled curiously.
Now much more sober than before, the captured man blinked, and lowered his voice to a whisper. It was apparent that whatever was hovering around Motor-Mouth's life was terrifying to the locals. "Word 'round here is that Streak butt heads with Limburger...I was there when he stomped into the bar. I dunno what happened when they walked out together, but nobody's seen either Lil' Mouth or Streak. Even their place is deserted."
That tidbit caught Modo's attention, and his head snapped towards the guy, startling him. "Their place? You know where they live?" his voice carried curiosity, yet the wavering anger was still obvious. At least they were getting somewhere.
"Yeah! At 6th Street and Oloccip avenue. Apartment 136! Now can I please go?" The man practically whimpered at Throttle.
The tan mouse nodded, and waved his hand at the retreating form, "Thank you for you're help, citizen!"
"WHATEVA!" was his only response. That poor man had promised himself at that moment that he would never drink again. Although, when he ran by a bar, he thought he might stop in for some free peanuts. Right, peanuts.
Modo grimaced, his nose wrinkling up. He replaced his helmet, sighing at the filters fought off the stench of poverty. It was depressing thinking that not only Motor-Mouth lived in these slums, but other children as well. Trying to shake off the depression creeping up on him, he mounted Lil' Hoss and turned to his bro.
"Ya ready to go? I wanna check the place out myself..."
"Same here bro..." Throttle threw a leg over his own bike, and it revved in anticipation, never good at staying still when tension was in the air.
The two rode off, dodging stray animals and large amounts of trash. Buildings flew by, crumbling on their foundations. Bums wandered the streets, some drunk, some sober and sobbing. It sent shivers up the two biker's backs, and they sped up. When they came upon the neighbor hood the unnamed six year old had come from, Modo's jaw dropped.
The apartment was what some would call...crap. Boards were nailed over the already broken windows, and the brick looked like it was about to turn into dust right before his eyes. He parked Lil' Hoss on the curb, and took his helmet off, in a stupor. Keeping his identity a secret didn't matter at the moment. His bro watched his movements, once again wary by his actions.
"You okay, Modo?" Throttle's voice cut through his thoughts.
The gray Martian shook his head, ears flapping lightly. "Uh, yeah. Just a little shaken up s'all..." He tried to walk up the steps, the first one collapsing under his weight. Closing his eyes, he attempted to continue with the second step, which was much more sturdy. It held it's place as he trudged up to the door. His large hand went to grab the knob, but the door blew open by a sudden cold wind.
"Geez, could it get any spookier?" Throttle joked dryly, noticing that it had no effect on his bro. He followed Modo in, quiet surprised at the furniture and relatively clean inside.
The gentle giant was just as confused. Why, by the looks of it, they didn't belong in the slums. The furniture was modern, and quiet clean, as was the carpet. The beige flooring had few stains here and there, mostly near the kitchen. A naked light bulb hung in the center, flickering on and off. What caught their eyes, or their noses rather, was the smell of seasoning.
Throttle frowned slightly, and walked into the dimly lit kitchen. The marble counters sparkled up at him, and he wiped his hand across them. Not surprisingly, there was no dust, or signs of abandonment. To further conclude his assumptions, a pot sat boiling some noodles, a spilled packet of Top Ramen lying near it.
"Whoever was here...left in a hurry..." He said in a whisper, edging towards the staircase. He motioned for Modo to follow, although silently.
The thought of Streak actually being there fueled the furnace, and Modo narrowed his eye. He allowed his bro to go first, not wanting to alarm the scumbag more than they have already. It was most likely the crack of the first step that had alerted whoever was there.
As they walked up the steps silently, it was lucky that they did not squeak. When they reached the top, everything was dark, save a sliver of light coming from a crack in a doorway. The other rooms appeared untouched so they headed towards the open door first.
Throttle flattened himself against the wall, holding up three large fingers. His other hand hovered over his laser. They stood out against the white walls, as he ticked them off. Three. Two...
Modo, ever vigilant had turned his mechanical arm into a plasma weapon as fast and as quiet as he could. He waited for his bro's signal, heart pounding. This would be it. He would finally get back at Streak for not taking care of Motor Mouth.
One.
Kicking in the door, (even though it was open), Throttle held his gun poised and ready to fire at any signs of hostility. When the small bedroom appeared empty, they lowered their weapons in shock.
The room was relatively small, and the walls a light peach. Surrounding a tiny day bed, were thousands of stuffed animals; all dogs. There were posters of Barbie, Disney characters, and other childhood heroes. Lying on top of the bed, there was a bag, half-heartedly packed full of clothes, one Doberman doll, and some CDs. The bag had M.M scribbled on it quite messily, and it donned on Modo.
"He was here..." his baritone rumbled through the empty room. The faint sound of a motorcycle racing off sounded outside, yet he ignored it.
"How do you know, bro?" Throttle also ignored the fact that he had rhymed at such a serious moment.
"Hey, ya rhymed..."
"I was trying to ignore it, thank you very much..." The tan mouse smirked and punched the others arm. "Anyway, answer my question."
Blinking in confusion, Modo grinned sheepishly, "Uh..what was the question?"
"How did ya know if he was here or not?"
"Oh, right! Well, lookit!" He motioned to the bag on the bed, "Streak was probably gonna take this stuff, n' drop it off at Charlie-girls place. That is, before he ran off..."
The leader nodded, making his way to the bag, "It wouldn't hurt to take this stuff back to Motor Mouth anyway. Looks like something she might want, not to mention she needs more clothes."
Zipping up the bag, Modo tossed it over his shoulder, before walking over to the window. Below it, was a large bush, perfect for catching someone. And right next to it, were skid marks. 'Oh yeah, he was here all right...'
"Heya, bro! You comin' or what?" Throttle was standing in the doorway, an impatient look on his face.
"Er, yeah. Ah was jus' looking at somthin'..." The gray giant shrugged off the feeling of foreboding, like they were messing with things that they didn't need to be. "Let's go give this stuff ta Motor Mouth, and see how Vinnie and Charlie girl are holdin' up."
"That's what I was thinking..." The shorter of the two made his way downstairs.
"Heh, Ya know what they say. Great minds think alike..."
"Right...but what does that have to do with you?
Modo stopped in his tracks, before comprehending that he had just been insulted. "Hey! Get yer scrawny hide back here!" He chased after his fellow biker, fist raised.
Throttle just ran out the front door, mounting his bike and placing his helmet on his head. He knew if Modo caught him, it would end up in a brawl. And as much as he liked dukeing it out with his bro, now was not the time to get caught up in fun. They had to take the bag to Charlie's garage.
And find out who this 'Streak' was, and why the heck would they stick around their house, after abandoning a child?
