Episode 7

…In Love… and War

Lawrence Lactavius Limburger chuckled to himself as he slithered through the portal into the past. Glancing around, he scowled at the pillar before him. He couldn't see the scoreboard from where he had landed; a perfect shot would require him to take three steps to the left. Three steps that would, unfortunately, place him out of sight of his three captives, back in the present day. Oh, the price he had to pay for finally ridding himself of those rambunctious rodents. So three steps to the left he accomplished, getting a perfectly clear view of the scoreboard, and the one spot the Mice would be leaping from their ship.

Below him, the Nubs were losing horribly, on a field glittering with early dew. The stands were packed to capacity, thunderous screams and applause reverberating through the scaffolding. Scanning the sky, Limburger tried to pick out the one star that was growing larger by the second. The Cyclodrone Thunderpipe. Limburger sneered, and lowered himself to one knee, bringing the laser rifle up to rest against his shoulder.

"What will I do without these pesky rodents plaguing my every breath?" he breathed, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "What should I take first? Lake Michigan? Perhaps the concrete from O'Hare?"

He chuckled again, and shifted his bulk to be just a little more comfortable. A large part of him was most pleased that he hadn't wasted time or money on some incompetent supervillian. After all, when you want something done right… do it you--!

Something hard collided with Limburger's side, crashing him to the hard concrete before he could finish his thought. The laser rifle tore from his hands, and fell clattering six feet from his outstretched form. Limburger flailed, trying to dislodge the weight that had settled on his back.

"Ease up, Ricochet," a voice, muffled yet gruff, sounded behind him. The weight shifted, moving away from his back.

"No!" The addressee snapped, with a voice as clear as a bell chime. "He's the cause! We've gotta stop him!"

Limburger felt a hand on his shoulder, and he was lifted to his knees. A figure stepped into his view, holding onto his shoulder as if it would keep him from attempting anything. Violet eyes flashed in the stadium lights, shadows outlined large dish-shaped ears. A Mouse. Limburger's weak three-chambered heart skipped a beat, leaving him breathless.

"Dammit," the gruff voice snarled. "There's the ship."

Limburger looked up as the violet-eyed Ricochet did. Yes! It was approaching quickly, and Limburger had a chance. He lunged for the gun. The female standing before him was faster, and Limburger rocked to the left, reeling from the roundhouse she had landed. For someone so small, and petite, she sure packed a wallop. The second Mouse moved with an easy, soundless gait, leaning down to pick up the laser rifle.

"Would ya just stay down?" Ricochet demanded as Limburger tried again to regain his feet. Her next punch was an uppercut, knocking the Plutarkian backward. For a moment, he glimpsed stars, or perhaps those were flashbulbs. Limburger allowed himself to flatten out, but his assailant kept advancing.

Her foot buried into his layers of fat to find his ribs. With a sharp gasp, he doubled over. Her second kick hit even harder, and like dry straw, three of Limburger's ribs snapped.

"Ricochet!" the second Mouse shouted. "I found the rift. Bring the fish!"

Grabbed by the lapels of his jacket, Limburger groaned. The female growled at him. "I can't budge him, sissy," she called back. "He's bigger than I remember…"

Sisters? Limburger groaned again as he was dropped back to the concrete. Bits of him ground against other bits, sending shooting lances of agony through his flesh. Already one of his eyes was swollen shut, and his lip was feeling puffy. The second Mouse, tall and muscular, yet most definitely female, blocked his view of the descending, smoking ship. She wrapped one hand around his neck, and hauled him up. Limburger's eyes bugged out, and he fought to draw a secondary breath.

No! No! This couldn't be happening! Who were these blasted broads? It had all been perfectly planned! Limburger's mind reeled as he was carried to the shimmering hole created by Karbunkle's toy. Unceremoniously, he was thrown through the hole, dropping to the ground, and skidding three feet to stop at the feet of the only conscious Mouse in the future.

Throttle didn't want to fathom anything that had just happened. Limburger had vanished for about five minutes, and now, this… The fish lay unconscious on the floor just out of reach of Throttle's boots. And the circular hole in the wall showed him perfectly just who was to thank for the assist. The sound of tiny bells jingling filtered through the portal. The taller female supported the other, jet black fur against silvery gray.

"The date?" the darker shouted. "What's the date?"

Throttle stared at them for another five seconds, before giving his head a shake. "June 20th!" At his feet Limburger began to stir.

"What year, you ninny?" she shouted again. "No, Rico! Don't go through that!" The smaller of the two had stepped forward, only to be caught and pulled back.

"The year? Ninety-six. Wait! Where are you go-…?" Throttle couldn't ask the full question before they dove from view. He twisted again in his bonds, trying to get his hands free. If he could get free before Limburger woke up, then he could destroy the machine. And… and… what wouldn't happen? He wasn't sure, but he knew that whatever could become of time travel wouldn't be a happy thing at all.

Throttle's ear twitched. Something was going on. Craning his head around, he could only see enough of the room to know that they were all still alone. Well, he could shout, but that would only bring goons. Unless he wasn't imagining things, and that really was gunfire ricocheting off the walls. The wild pattern of reports hinted that the goons were shooting at something fast.

"In here!" a muffled voice shouted. "Sissy, the door's loc-"

BANG! The heavy, reinforced door collapsed inward, kicked by a heavy boot. Throttle still couldn't see the door, no matter how he craned his neck, or twisted his torso. Either Modo's bid head, or Vinnie's big ears were blocking the view.

"It's not locked no more," Throttle recognized that rough voice. And he suddenly looked back at the still glimmering portal. "I've got the door, Rico; you go untie the boys."

Pistols, dual wielded, fired rapidly. The girls from the portal? Throttle could feel his head fogging up as he was trying to ponder it. Maybe he got hit a little harder on the head than he had thought. Boots skidded across the floor, and a figure crouched before Vinnie. Removing one of the fusion flares from his bandoliers, she twisted the caps, firing the reaction into high gear.

"Don't worry," she smiled at Throttle, her eyes glittering with joy. "The cavalry's here." Sidling over to him, she cut the chains binding his hands and feet first. As Throttle carefully extracted himself from the bonds, she shifted over to Modo. "Wow, he's out cold." She patted his cheek with a gloved hand, marksman's gloves, Throttle noticed the missing fabric over the trigger finger.

"The white one too, Rico," the figure in the door snarled, ducking behind the jamb in order to reload.

"But…"

"No buts. That was then, this is now. It's been fixed, dammit. Free him, get them all out of here, so we can blow this shit to holy hell."

Throttle blinked, and reached out to take the fusion flare from the silvery-gray female. "I'll do it. Wake Modo up for me?"

Throttle rubbed his eyes as she flashing him that brilliant smile again. His eyes must be on the fritz, because her eyes looked purple. As Throttle cut the bonds on Vinnie, he scowled at the stain of crimson on the kid's side. Lacerations up Vinnie's ribcage didn't make him feel too confident about getting out in one piece. The girl was kneeling beside Modo, patting his face.

"Hey, big guy, nap time's over," she said in his ear. Throttle watched her out of the corner of his eye, as she searched her personage for something. "Ahah!" came the exclamation as she apparently found the object. A tiny vial, the cork of which she popped out with her teeth, got waved under Modo's nose.

Throttle fairly laughed aloud as the big Mouse jerked awake, knocking the girl back a few feet. She recorked the smelling salts and nipped up to her feet. She then ran to the door and joined the other Mouse, pulling two pistols from holsters at her hips.

"You three need to get the hell outta Dodge!" the darker snapped with a jangle of bells. "Carry him or whatever the hell you want, just get out of here." The two girls alternated with cover fire.

"What about that thing?" Throttle asked, gesturing to the portal.

With a smirk, the jet-furred Mouse laughed. The sound sent a chill up Throttle's spine. "We've got that covered. Trust us."

Modo had freed the three beeping cyberbikes. After a second, he turned to look at the two females in the doorway. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, keeping Limburger's goon army at bay. Carefully, Modo picked Vinnie up and settled him onto the saddle of Li'l Hoss. Throttle swung a leg over his own bike as she pulled up next to him.

"Wait, who are you two?" he asked as he revved the engine.

The two girls smiled, an identical expression on sisterly faces. "Nobody of consequence," the younger answered after a moment. A flash of sorrow flickered through those odd violet eyes, as she looked at Vinnie. "Hey, take care of that guy."
"We're not leaving without you," Modo interjected. "Mice stick together!"

"We'll be right behind you. Hurry your tails up!" Those bells jangled as the jet-furred female swung back into the doorway, firing rounds down the hallway. "The thermite charge will take 30 seconds to detonate."

"Thermite?" Modo's eye grew wide and round. "Where'd you guys find thermite?"

"Modo," Throttle's tone had changed and he thumbed the launch key for a pair of rockets. Those rockets smashed into the far wall, and blew a hole the size of an elephant in the concrete and plaster. "Let's go. We'll see you two outside." He sounded, so confident, as he revved his engine and leapt from the tower. After a moment, Modo and his unconscious burden followed suit, the riderless red bike moved out a few seconds later.

Ricochet looked at her sister. Three years. Three years traveling around this verdant paradise, just to return here for one day. To see them all again for just one day. Every bone in Rico's body wanted to stay, to jump out the hole in the wall and follow them. Just to have a team again. To be a family again. But she had Steel, her true family. And seeing them again, brought back those memories. Rimfire's body falling slowly to the ground.

He had done it to spur her into action, she had finally decided. And now, they had the ability to prevent this from ever happening again. The thermite explosives in her hip pouch would assure that the entire Tower would be disintegrated. The living tissue in the vicinity wouldn't be harmed, which would be unfortunate. The fish-face would survive, as would Karbunkle, and all their goons. But it couldn't be helped.

Ricochet dug into the pouch, and removed the ordinance from its paper wrapping. The thermite was like silly putty in her hands. Very carefully she kneaded it with her fingers, and snuck across the room. Light arms fire peppered her position a few times, but Steel was quick at taking out the targets. The snipers shots were precise and deadly. Rico kicked at Limburger's hand, moving it out of her way. Finally, she lay the thermite charge against the main console.

Kneading the material had broken the five tiny ampoules of nitroglycerin within. Gently, Rico stuck the remote detonator into the clay-like substance, and backed away. "Bomb is hot, sissy." She said quietly, backing steadily away from the console.

"Grand," Steel smiled. "Let's blow this pop-stand."

"And?"

"And do what we do best, little sister," Steel answered, rising from her crouch and running for the hole in the tower. Steel flung herself from the building with all the grace of a soaring eagle, her arms and legs spread wide to slow her fall. Moments later, Ricochet followed suit, launching herself into open air with wild abandon. Upon the count of twenty, Rico pressed the small button concealed in the palm of her glove. Above her, the world turned white.

The thermite charge detonated, consuming the Tower in a blinding flash of white light and red hot heat. The wave of burning air washed over Rico's form, and she tucked small, keeping her hands by her sides. The wind past her face whipped her hair into a frenzy, the free fall from thirty stories was exhilarating. Steel's hand reached out as Rico threatened to pass her in midair.

Catching their hands, Rico swung herself into Steel's secure grasp. The elder Mouse used the added weight to shift her balance, until she was rocketing feet first toward the hard concrete. As the Tower began to crumble into a fine white dust behind them, Steel braced for impact.

The sound of pulverizing concrete hid the crash of Steel into pavement. And as the dust settled around them, Steel rose with a roll of her shoulders, and carried her sister from the crater they'd created. Their bikes greeted them around the block, joyous with blinking lights and bright beeps. Rico patted Sparkle's gas tank, and mounted up silently. As Steel settled onto the back of her ride, she flexed her knees carefully, listening for any damage.

"I wish we could stay," Rico whispered quietly. "I miss them."

"D'you think they got out?" Modo asked softly as they watched the Tower crumble. From their vantage point a few arms stuck up out of the concrete dust, and occasionally a plume rose where some one sneezed. Throttle shrugged slightly, and leaned over slightly to check on Vinnie.

"We should get him back to Charley," the beige Mouse voiced. The kid was pretty beat up, and both the others felt as if they'd been through the ringer a few too many times. "We'll take a breather; it'll be a while for Limburger to get back on his feet after that beating he took."

Modo blinked at his bro, before engaging the shield on his helmet. "Who beat the cheese-head up?"

Throttle never answered him. He rolled his bike slowly out of the alley, and turned left, weaving through the debris to the south. He had a soft, overwhelming sense of heading home, as if he hadn't been there for months. Sunset over Chi-town had never been so vibrantly beautiful.

The End?