"Okay, so, the Red Line goes to the garage. The Blue Line goes to the cafeteria. The Green one's for the gym. Orange is for Karbunkle's Lab; Yellow is for..." Vinnie trailed off. "What's Yellow again?"

"Yellow Line will lead you to the human's wing, the Black Line leads to the Martian wing. And the Purple Line leads to the head cheese's office," Modo finished, pointing at the painted lines on the floors and walls. "Our rooms are underground and everything. Feels just like... home..." Modo even sobered as he related that. And he scratched the back of his head. "Who'da thunk that a Stinkfish would treat a bunch of Cave Mice so nice?"

"It's called, smart entrepreneurship." A voice purred behind them. "And we'd kindly like you rookies not to block the hallways. I'd hate to have to break your kneecaps on your first day."

Modo and Vinnie parted as they turned. She had snuck up so easily behind them, totally silent on heavy biker boots. She was Martian; her large dish ears were held back, her antennae nearly lying flat against her scalp. Thumping up the corridor behind her were two giant dirty yellow Mice that dwarfed Modo. Between them, they carried a white box, a refrigerator from the looks of it.

"Well, hello to you too, ma'am," Modo replied, amazingly keeping his voice level and calm. One-eyed he could look the tall female almost directly on. She was tall, long limbed and very lean. Bells jingled lightly as she turned to the two brutes behind her.

"Rest on it a moment, boys." As they lowered the clunky piece between them, she turned back towards Vinnie and Modo. "Name's Steel. Alpha Squad." She stuck her hand out. "The thugs behind me are Lug, and Torque. Both Alpha."

Modo hesitantly reached out, accepting her offered hand with his cybernetic one. He introduced himself, and Vinnie quietly. "We're uh... awaiting our assignments." Her grip was strong as she pumped his metal hand once.

"Figured as much." Steel nodded, and gestured back at the two behind her. "Just be careful, Beta and Delta Squads aren't quite so forgiving."

With a heave, Lug and Torque hefted the fridge back onto their shoulders, and followed the stately creature down the hallway. Modo stared after them until they vanished around a corner. "Oh, mama," he muttered. "We've gotta lot of catchin' up to do."

Vinnie shivered. "She's scary. It isn't natural to be that quiet!" Modo glanced over at him and swallowed. Without speaking, they both decided that the safest place to be was locked in their temporary rooms away from whatever else might come down the corridor.

Every human in the facility wore identical white jumpsuits. Numbers were embroidered on the left breast, in the stead of names. Two men, and two women, worked the cafeteria line, spooning out heaps of grayish slop into small metal dishes. Vinnie received his glop without comment, but stirred the tin spoon through it as he followed Throttle and Modo towards a table. Lumps moved beneath the ash-gray surface, and it smelt like week old sweat socks.

"What is this crap?" he griped quietly, hoping only his bros would hear him. "Where's the hotdogs, and the root beer?"

Throttle just shook his head. He was busy scanning the tables for some open seats, but was rapidly getting shut down. Glares and snarls greeted his very eye contact, as he threaded his ways through the seats. There must have been at least a hundred Mice crammed into the small space, most wearing the gaudy purple and red livery of Limburger. Finally, at the back of the cafe, he spotted exactly what he was looking for. Her black hair was shorn short, a functional military cut, but the scar down her muzzle was all he needed to see.

"Carbine?" Throttle's smooth voice cut through the hum. Her table was nearly empty, only six of the ten chairs containing occupants. He felt his chest tighten as all eyes turned to him. Carbine's dark eyes were like ice, containing no hint of recognition, no mote of softness.

"What do you want?" she demanded, cutting off the drone of conversation at the table.

Throttle wanted to do nothing more than rub the back of his neck, but his hands were full. He settled for shifting uneasily from foot to foot. "Well, I was wonderin' if we could join you?"

Silence, broken only by a nervous titter from the wild-eyed creature sitting beside Carbine. She cast him a glare, and, with his red Mohawk shaking, he silenced himself. Carbine rose slowly, and the other seemed to tense. "I don't know who you think you are; and I'm sure that your not who I think you are, so impose on some other Squad."

"C'mon, Throttle, let's just go," Modo rumbled.

The blue-eyed Mouse sat up a little straighter. "Carbine, we need Outriders."

"You don't have to remind me," Carbine snapped to the shadows. She sighed deeply, massaging her temple with one hand. "Rimfire, your thoughts?"

Rimfire tousled his hair, staring unashamedly at Modo. Surely the boy would know his own uncle, and Modo prayed for a miracle. "I think..." Rimfire began quietly. "I think that... that we need Outriders."

Carbine threw her hands suddenly into the air. Without a word, she twisted, knocking over her chair, and stalking towards the doors. Something glinted in the Mohawk Mouse's eyes and he rose to move after her.

"My sweet, my princess, wait for me!" he called, trailing after the female like a mooncalf.

"My sweet?" Vinnie snorted, nearly laughing aloud.

"My princess?" Modo echoed.

"Don't knock it," Rimfire cut in. "Halogen's been there for Carbine since..." He motioned towards Throttle. "Well, since you guys, uhm... died."

Throttle set his tray down; his bros instantly following suit. "Yeah, well about that." Throttle returned, as he stirred his slop. "We didn't die... we got captured." He was grasping at straws now; he still hardly felt that their cover story was plausible. "We've been slave labor for the human's resistance for years."

"What is this stuff?" Vinnie asked again, sniffing a spoonful.

"It's a nutrient mash," Steel responded from the corner. "Just wait till you get a load of the protein shake for breakfast!"

The twins chuckled darkly at her cynicism. Torque twirled his topknot around his neck, and pretended to hang himself. Lug grinned. "I agree, bro... rather die than eat this stuff sometimes."

"Hey, it keeps us alive," Rimfire laughed softly. "I'll make sure Carbine files the paperwork, guys. We want you in our Squad, even if she's going to be difficult about it."

"Carbine doesn't know any way besides difficult," Throttle remarked.

"The pots calling the kettle black it seems," Steel purred, rising from her seat. "I've read your files, seen the documents. Hell, early on in the invasion of Mars, the Plutarkians tried to hire me to assassinate you."

"But you almost got Camembert instead," Modo finished, pointing his spoon at her.

Steel chuckled. "Seems I have a fan club," she patted his cybernetic shoulder as she moved past him. "Best keep it in your pants. Rimfire, I'm going to check on my sister. I'll find you and Carbine later."

Rimfire nodded, as she swiftly, and silently moved off. "Look, guys, U-uncle," Rimfire stuttered, as if he was afraid to say it. "I really hate to do this to you, but... I need you to prove you're who you are... y'catch me?"

Throttle sighed. "I catch you. You want to do this with your uncle, kid?"

Rimfire nodded, but Modo sidled uneasily. "I... I ain't so good at this..." Rimfire was already walking around the table to sit beside the large Mouse. Rimfire settled into his seat, and the slender antennae sparkled to life.

"Fuck!" Vinnie swore loudly, spitting out a mouthful of the gray slop. "That's gross! Where the hell do they get this stuff?" He spun, and instantly froze as Throttle's hand rose to smack sense into him.

"Quiet, Vinnie," Throttle warned softly. Vinnie watched Modo's eye close slowly, as Rimfire's antennae touched his bros.

"Ain't she a beauty?" Modo asked quietly (his voice echoing strangely inside Rimfire's head). "Seven hundred CC motor, dual carb, fuel injected. C'mon you two, wanna go for a ride?"

Two bundles, one blonde, one brunette with a vibrant red streak, bounced for attention on either side of the motorcycle. Two arms scooped downwards, cradling each one securely in thick, knotted muscles. (Young) Rimfire and his sister Primer grinned gleefully up. A swell of love filled him, so full he nearly burst with tears; he had built the bike specifically to take his sisters two precious kids on long rides, fishing and hunting, and all the things that a proper uncle should do. His ribs tightened, squeezed from both sides by strong little arms, and two small voices chiming up.

"I love you, Uncle Momo!"

"Uncle Modo," Rimfire whispered weakly, his voice shaking as he pulled away. He controlled himself carefully, unwilling to let the rock in the pit of his stomach make him ill. Modo wasn't so lucky, as tears ran from his good eye soaking a trail through his dark fur.

Modo reached out, patting Rimfire's arm delicately. "You're a good kid," he muttered. "A real good kid."

Rimfire smiled shakily. "You guys should really eat. We only get two meals a day, and we're due out for patrol in thirty minutes." He gave a hesitant gesture to the disgusting soup before the other three. "It's not always a good idea to skip a meal around here."

"But... but..." Vinnie sputtered.

"It's all we have," Rimfire interjected. "I'm second in Alpha, so, do me a favor, get used to taking orders. Carbine runs us like she used to run the Army."

"Tough and hard," Throttle murmured, glancing off in the direction Carbine had fled in.

"Look, I'm sure you guys must have suffered pretty badly," Rimfire rose, pushing his plate away slowly.

"Humes can be tough," Lug grunted.

"Left the li'l one with more broked ribs than we could count," Torque finished. Vinnie rubbed his side self-consciously.

"Eat, rest, and I'll see you guys at the garage in half an hour." Rimfire grinned, tilted his head towards his uncle. "And for what it matters, I trust you guys."

"At least somebody does," Throttle muttered.

Lug and Torque rose as one Mouse, gathering up empty bowls and trays. "We'll be in the gym if you need us."

Vinnie blinked at their huge shadows. "Can you guys get bigger?" The two of them chuckled in response, making Vinnie slightly uneasy.

"So, Green line's garage?" Vinnie asked as they stepped out of the cafeteria.

"Green line's gym. Red's garage," Throttle corrected.

"Man, I need a cheat sheet or something," the white Mouse griped. He glanced briefly at the orange line on the floor. That one went back to Karbunkle's lab, and the infirmary; a pang of guilt rolled through him slowly. The little gray Mouse had been trying to tell him something.

"C'mon, bros, the garage is three levels up; and we have ten minutes to meet Rimfire and Carbine there." Throttle started off briskly down the hall. He had gotten no more than four steps when a blaring alarm sliced through the air.

Clutching their ears, the bros fell into a defensive formation instantly; back to back to back, they searched for the source of the noise. A loudspeaker to their left rasped out orders, once in each of two languages. "Alpha Squad report directly to garage level 1. Uhhh, do not pass Go, do not collect..."

Modo glanced at the two behind him. "Greasepit?" He chuckled softly.

"I'm going to take that to mean us, bros!" Throttle answered swiftly. "Let's high tail it!" Throttle sprinted, with Vinnie hot on his heels, and Modo rolling steadily behind.

They arrived at the Garage just as the last few members of Alpha Squad were skidding in. Rimfire was zipping up the front of his uniform, while Carbine looked up to the three bros.

"They need to be fitted for uniforms," she snapped, pointing at them. "But later, right now, we have renegade humes attacking our oil wells. We can't afford another oil fire, ladies and gentlemen. I want everyone to saddle up, and move out. Steel, there's a sniper vantage in the control tower; pick one of the rookies to be your watchman."

"You," Steel pointed at Modo. "Tall dark and gruesome, you keep me safe while I'm in the scope."

"You other two will stick with Rimfire, follow his directions. Torque, Lug, Halogen, you're my unit. Let's lock and load, boys and girls. We get extra rations if we can keep those oil rigs from catching fire." Carbine sent a meaningful glance towards her three rookies. Trust was not something she could waste on the untested, and as far as the ghosts of the past were concerned, they were untested.

Bikes idled ready for the ride; helmets were passed out, fitted and shielded quickly. Modo patted the gas tank of his laid back fatboy. The springs beneath the seat twanged as he settled his weight upon it. There was no loving beep, no twitter of joy in the engine. He sighed heavily.

"Sure ain't no Li'l Darlin'," he muttered.

"No A.I.'s," Throttle observed as he swung a leg over his own ride. Chrome gleamed in the reflection of his face shield. "But all the bells and whistles."

"You'll earn an AI," Rimfire explained. "Nobody's first ride gets one, just incase they don't make it back from their first mission."

"What a rosy thought," Vinnie muttered, revving the engine of his red rocket. The roar of the other engines drowned his voice out. And one by one, they peeled out into the street. One bike remained behind, whistling sullenly from beneath its tarp. Unhappy, it began a system shutdown that would render it 'asleep,' until its owners voice would waken it.

Thick black smoke billowed just outside the eastern boundary of Chicago. It rose into the air like some menacing, bilious creature, hell-bent on blocking the sun from mortal eyes for eternity. Already the smog lay thick, like a blanket between the Sun and Earth, but the level of toxins released by the oil fires only tripled the greenhouse effects. Carbine looked back at the three Mice idling behind her. Another explosion rocked the field, her visor auto-tinting to accommodate the blinding flash of light.

"Rimfire," she asked tersely into her headset. "You in position?"

" Affirmative. " His voice sounded oddly hollow, and quiet. Perhaps the view from the west side was worse.

"Steel, I need intel."

" Three designated targets moving from Well Four, to Well Five. " Steel took a long breath into the mic. " Confirmed identities, Mills. McCyber...holy shit... "

"What?" Carbine waited four breaths before asking, trying to get a coherent answer from the sniper. "Steel, report!"
There was more silence. " Davidson has the Peacemaker rebuilt! "

"Fuck!" Carbine hissed, twisting around to gesture to her team. Without hesitation, the three loaded their weapons with armor piercing rounds. After a few moments, a hesitant voice purred over the speakers in all their helms.

" Just what is ... the Peacemaker?" " Carbine knew that voice intimately, and her heart fluttered upon hearing it again. She held her tongue, and held her breath as well.

" A tank, Throttle, a really big tank. " Rimfire answered, as a low rumble threatened to drown out his voice.

" Rimfire, get your tail out of there! " Steel fairly shouted over the comm. " Carbine, four clicks west; get behind that fucker and take it out! "

"Don't tell me how to do my job, sniper," Carbine snapped. "Halogen, you got the boom-sticks?"

Halogen's eyes sparkled, a manic sheen glittering on their dark surface. He chuckled softly, the sound echoing weirdly in his helmet. Carbine took his twitchy joy to mean 'yes'.

"All right, Lug, Torque, take out the satellite bikes, the rest of you Mice, Cheese in a Blender, variant four, on my mark," Carbine pushed off, revving her bike's engine as she slid sideways down an embankment. In the distance she could see a small plume of dust moving to intercept a much larger cloud. She quietly ticked down the seconds. "MARK!"

Rimfire, Vinnie and Throttle veered suddenly left, causing the tank's proboscis to swing ponderously after them. Behind them, the twins streaked towards their destination, the two bikes flanking the tank. Laser fire seared the air, mixing the stench of burnt oxygen with the thick black smoke of burning oil. Carbine and Halogen circled the tank in the opposite direction, bringing the monolith to a full stop as it lost sight of it's targets at such close range. Smaller gunports clicked open on the sides, peppering the ground with frantic rounds.

Halogen chuckled, and skidded to a halt behind the tanks massive treads. Boom-sticks were his specialty; demolition and destruction. He waited for a moment, until Steel sounded the clear call from high above. The sticks appeared from a variety of pockets on his personage, and he stuck four or five of them in among the treads of the tank.

"Yaah!" He shouted as bullets pinged off the tanks armor. One large round hit and bored a hole through the armor. "Careful with that fire, mates!" He warned through the comm. "Boom-sticks active!"

"Lets get clear, Mice!" Carbine shouted. "Once that tank starts moving, she's gonna blow!"

The Mice scattered, veering in all directions, disappearing into the thick black smoke. Someone wheezed and coughed, muttering curses under his breath. The tank swiveled it's gunport around, as if searching for targets. With a slow crank, the chink of treads shifted. The end of a stick caught in a gear, and a scream rose from the metalworks. Halogen panted as he glanced back over his shoulder.

"BOOM!" he shouted just a fair second before the first boom-stick ignited. The tank treads exploded with a fury of melted shrapnel. He could almost see the panicked looks on the humans' faces. And it filled him with an odd sense of joy, to know that one had the potential to burn alive inside the tank. His hopes of a human's death were quickly dashed as the hatch popped open.

"Steel?" Carbine asked softly.

" Bogey is not Davidson, I repeat. Not Davidson. " Steel responded as the figure in her scope was decidedly masculine. " Holding fire. "

"Let them go," Carbine ordered as the two bikes, now with three riders, peeled off leaving the half-melted husk of the Peacemaker behind. "Our concern is the oil wells. We need to get those fires out."

"Check it out, man," Vinnie stepped up and struck a pose beside Modo. "I'm almost as dark as you!" Modo couldn't help but chuckle, as he smacked Vinnie's shoulder. A cloud of black soot rose up from the white Mouse, leaving them both chuckling. From the neck up, Vinnie's fur was still pristine and white, but the rest of him, was black as soot. Of course, even Throttle was black with soot, but he had been the first to claim rights to a ten-minute shower.

Leaving the rest of them to wait their turns. Rimfire wasn't taking the wait well; he stood outside of a particular room, arguing softly with Steel. Modo watched the sniper and his nephew closely, making sure she wasn't going to strike, or damage the boy in any way. The female was unpredictable, violent, and all too eerie; all were traits that Modo didn't find the least bit trustworthy. Vinnie continued to talk, but his bro had learned long ago to tune him out. Rambling was a sort of defense mode for the white Mouse, the way he tended to feel most comfortable, listening to his own mouth run.

Lug and Torque were comical with soot drifting off them, playing an almost delicate game of ping-pong against Carbine and Halogen. The twins played mostly with their tails, using their hands for more applicable things, like grooming. When Throttle emerged from the shower room, Halogen instantly claimed next space, and abandoned the table. Carbine caught the paddle he dropped to her, and looked around bewildered. Damp fur tousled, and a roguish grin in place, Throttle sidled right up to the table, taking the paddle out of Carbine's hand.

"Don't mind if I do," he smiled cordially, smacking the little ball back towards the twins. Tack – tock. The ball bounced and struck Lug's paddle, sailing over the short net back towards Carbine. Carbine spared Throttle a momentary glare, before she struck the ball back.

"What do you want?" she snapped, as Torque returned her volley with ease.

"Just to talk," Throttle was quick to step up, to fill in any questions she had. "We're not your enemy. Look, I know there are some things we just don't understand, but there are reasons for everything." The ball cracked off his paddle, as Throttle delivered a wicked slice over the net. Lug was fast, a warm cloud of soot following him as he lunged for the ball. "You just have to trust me."

Carbine bristled silently at that, crushing the volleyed ball with a savage backhand. Torque watched as it sailed over both their heads, colliding with the wall opposite. "I trusted you to come back to me! I trusted you to understand my obligations with the army! Well, I don't trust you, whoever you are, anymore!"

The paddle fell with a clatter, and she huffed in a cloud of smoke, disappearing into the shared bathroom. Somewhere in Throttle's body, something froze, as he stared after her retreat with a gaping mouth. The room had fallen deadly silent sometime during the exchange, and now, he could feel it keenly. Running a hand through his mop of hair, the Mouse offered a nervous laugh, and ducked out of the room as fast he could.

Modo began to rise, but he thought better of the action as soon as he stood. Numbly remaining there, he watched the door to their room close slowly. Glancing down, Modo tried to offer a crooked tooth smile to Vinnie. Another door closed, then another, the second one eerily quiet, and Modo found that only three Mice remained.

"We should all get some sleep, Uncle," Rimfire mentioned quietly. "I'll have an extra bunk if you want it. Halogen won't be coming back tonight."

Modo sighed, as Vinnie's voice piped up, asking Rimfire just what he meant by that. Glancing at the bathroom door, the grayfurred Mouse knew exactly what his nephew meant. This wasn't going to be pleasant when Throttle derived a conclusion. "Let's all get clean. There has to be more showers in this place than just this one."

"RIMFIRE!"

The boy was out of his hammock before he realized that he was awake. He gave a yelp as his feet hit the floor and he stumbled, shaking himself in to awareness.

"Rimfire, blankets!" Steel was shouting from the common room. Rimfire grabbed the blankets off the lower hammock, getting a rumble from his bleary-eyed uncle. He had to be fast; he knew that tone. A halfhearted apology tumbled from his mouth as he bolted out the door. Steel was already in her glory, with the situation well under control.

"Lug, Torque, clear the halls to the medlab! Rimfire! Dammit, you took long enough! Hold this!" She thrust a bucket into his arms as she hauled the blankets out of his grip. Rimfire glanced down.

"Eww..." he breathed, holding the bucket at arms length. The black Mouse was bundling her sister up into the blankets. The twins had already started lumbering down the halls, and Rimfire was left holding the puke bucket.

"She started vomiting blood about ten minutes ago," Steel growled matter-of-factly. Her shoulders beneath the tanktop flexed as she carefully hoisted the frail Mouse into her arms. "You, there!"

Vinnie yawned, and stretched, as he peered from a doorway at the intense blue glow facing him. "What's the—"

"I need your help," she grunted as she sidled past him. "Go make sure Karbunkle's awake." In her arms, Ricochet heaved, and weakly yelped. Nothing came up, Rimfire was relieved, but her face was knit into such pain.

He looked back to see Vinnie still hovering in the door. "Go! Go! Go! We gotta help Rico!"

Vinnie blinked, and ran; while the young commander worried.

"Out! Out!" Karbunkle fluttered his hands at the Mice. Steel glared at him, the working of the muscles beneath her black fur was like music for his eyes. Rimfire (the boy possessed too much common sense at times!) placed a hand on Steel's arm, and led her out. The third, the new Mouse, lingered behind a moment to two longer than he should have. It was all the good doctor needed. "But you... you stay. I have use of a good strong Mouse."

Steel turned in the doorway, glaring back. "But!"

Karbunkle pointed at her, one long bony finger waggling slowly. "Tut!" The black Mouse deflated, and slunk out. Karbunkle's smile was not entirely pleasant; infact, he aimed to make the white Mouse more uncomfortable.

"Hold this," he offered up a vial of thin amber liquid. "Be careful not to spill it." With a dastardly grin and a gleam of his goggles, the doctor turned toward the sink. Vinnie trembled. He had to get his mind off the laboratory on Mars.

"Hey, violet," he whispered to the prone form as he sidled over. Her eyes flickered open for a second.

"Sissy?" Vinnie had to lean close to hear her whisper.

"No, babycakes, it's just the Vin-meister." He caught himself mid-flirt, and laughed softly. Glancing up as Karbunkle reappeared, Vinnie noticed his hand tingled unpleasantly. Moving the vial from one hand to the other, revealed some of the amber liquid had sloshed out onto his hand. Just as he began to curse his luck, the gray Mouse moved suddenly, her thin fingers wrapping around his arm, causing him to dump the rest of the liquid to the floor.

"Don'... don' let 'im..." she whispered, trailing off as Karbunkle slid a needle beneath her fur.

The doctor smiled again, and a chill crept up Vinnie's spine. "No worries; I have plenty more of her medicine!" He reached over the prone Mouse, spindly fingers nimbly buckling a thick leather strap around her wrist. Even drugged, the Mouse's eyes still opened; she still struggled.

Vinnie's hand throbbed. He grabbed a chair to keep the room from spinning. Woozy, he sank into the seat, and felt like his stomach was trying to crawl out of his throat. He swallowed heavily and watched the doctor fix an IV drip to Ricochet's arm. Something in him raged at how small she was; how the bones of her shoulders jutted; how the hollows of her collarbones were too deep. He gripped the chair and forced himself to his feet. Karbunkle raised a brow, watching the determined Mouse advance. Calmly, the doctor smiled and peeled the label from the drip bag, dropping it into the trash as he moved away.

Vinnie's vision blacked at the edges, but he focused on the waste can. He hit the floor two steps later with a resounding crack.

The medlab leapt into focus as he nearly gagged on the stench of epsom. Rimfire crouched by his side; Steel was beside bed, smoothing the patient's hair. Of Karbunkle there was no sign. Vinnie looked around again, and eyed the amber bag.

"The trash!" he chirruped, lurching to his feet, while Rimfire grabbed his arm to protest. Vinnie sniffled as he bent down, fishing around until he found just what he was looking for. "Ahha!" he exclaimed, holding up the prize triumphantly.

Steel glared at him, but Rimfire took the label. "What's this?" Carefully unsticking it from itself, he read it. His brow furrowed, and he held it out. "Steel?"

The black Mouse grunted, patting her sister's thin arm before crossing to stand with the boys. With her hands on her hips, she watched for the youth to finish removing the label from his fingers. She was all too happy to rip the label from Rimfire's fur, making him yelp and rub his fingertips. Those glowing blue eyes narrowed, and a slow glare formed.

"Just what is this?" she asked softly.

Vinnie shrugged. "It's whatever is in that bag." His mask reflected the amber liquid as he nodded towards it. Grimacing, Steel folded the label again, and stuck it into the breast pocket of her uniform. "What are we going to do with it?"

"Halogen was a chemist before the wars," Rimfire explained as Steel left the room. "Do you think you can handle Steel while I watch over Ricochet?"

"Handle her?" Vinnie jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and laughed. "I've handled tougher cases!"

"Good! Go!" Rimfire gave him a shove that sent him stumbling out of the room. The hydraulics whined as the door began to shut. Glancing back over his shoulder, Vinnie glimpsed Rimfire rubbing the bridge of his muzzle, and sighing. It wasn't his place, but Vinnie felt jealous that the youth had opted to stay with the girl.

"STEEL! It's four-thirty in the morning!" Carbine couldn't slam the door in the Mouse's face; Steel's arm barely quivered as her commanding officer strained against the door.

"Halogen," Steel's eyes were only for the svelt male lounging in bed. "I need your educational opinion."

"Steel! Get out of this room, this instant!" Carbine shouted in her ear, giving up her fight for a slammed door. Looking down, Steel sighed. Carbine had only a blanket wrapped around her, her eyes storming like a sand demon. The black Mouse shrugged her off again.

"This is about my sister, Halogen," Steel muttered, as the red-furred Mouse stretched languidly. He rose, clad only in his fur, and sauntered over to Carbine. Kissing her cheek, he bent down to fetch a pair of pants, and resolutely stepped past Steel into the common room. Steel smirked, as she looked back at Carbine. Reaching out, she put Carbine's hand back on the edge of the door. "Here, you can have your door-slamming temper tantrum now. Be a good four-year old and clean up your toys too!"

Steel spun on her heel, and followed Halogen into the common area. Behind her, she could hear Carbine sputtering, searching for a retort, but the only sound the commander made was the slamming of the bedroom door. Steel sighed, as she flopped down next to Halogen on the couch.

"How the hell do you do it?" she asked, fishing around in her pocket.

"The perks are nice." His eyes gave off a golden sparkle that stopped the sniper from further questions. "So what do you have for me?" He took the small label from her hands, and carefully unfolded it. His mouth pursed, a dark line appeared slowly behind his eyes. "Oh, dear…"

Sitting up a little straighter, Steel scowled. "I don't like the sound of that."

"2-methyl-2(methylthio)propionaldehyde O-methylcarbamoyloxime," Halogen intoned. Then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his muzzle with his forefinger and thumb. He wouldn't meet Steel's intense, glowing gaze. "Humes would call this stuff… rat poison."

End Episode Three

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