Throttle came pounding out toward him, laser drawn. Carbine and Stoker too came outside, their lasers held aloft to cover him.
"What is it big-fella?" Throttle asked, putting his laser back in its sheath when he saw Modo was unharmed.
Modo pointed to Sweetheart's camera and asked her to replay the footage she had just shown him.
The camera angle was lopsided, as Sweetheart had clearly been lying on the ground when she had started recording.
"Vinnie!" Charlie's shrill scream pierced the air.
A large mountain of human flesh appeared, dripping a black liquid as it carried the squirming mechanic under one arm. When she tried to fight her way out his grasp he smacked her head hard enough to stun her, her head snapping back with the impact of his fist.
Greasepit was issuing orders to several goons, two of which dragged an unconscious Vinnie between them.
"Hurry up youse goons, before the other rodents show up!" he ordered curtly, tossing Charlie in when Vinnie had been dumped in the rear of a truck.
Carbuncle wandered into view, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
"At last, I can create the ultimate weapon that those mice won't be able to resist!" he declared, cackling happily to himself as he climbed into the passenger side of the truck.
Greasepit wandered over to the fallen Sweetheart and gave her front a hearty kick that caused her to slide several feet away from him.
"Not so tough now are you, you over-rated scooter!" he spat and turned back to the truck.
The recording ended, leaving a quiet hush in its wake.
Everyone stood waiting, looking expectantly at Throttle, but for once, the mouse leader was at a loss in formulating a plan to rescue Charlie and Vinnie. Their last attempt on the tower had been completely unsuccessful. Neither their bikes, nor any of their weaponry could leave as much as a scratch on the building.
"I don't know big guy, I really don't know" Throttle said helplessly.
Modo frowned, not willing to believe it may be the last time he would see Vinnie and Charlie. "There's got to be a way in there!" he said fiercely.
"What about crashing the ship into it?" Stoker asked helpfully.
"Won't make a difference, our bikes are made from the same alloy as the ship" Throttle said, racking his brain to think of something, anything that would work.
"The secret tunnel!" Modo said suddenly, his lone eye glowing red with excitement.
"Good idea big guy" Throttle said approvingly, whistling their bikes out from the garage.
"If the tower is as well guarded as you both say it is, there's no way that the tunnel will be undefended" Carbine said before the boys could finish climbing on their bikes.
They paused, legs held mid-swing over the bike seats.
"Aw crap!" Stoker swore. "She's right. So what do you suggest then Carbs?"
"Takeaway" Carbine replied.
"Don't you think we should try and rescue them before we have dinner?" Throttle asked, surprised by his fiancé's appetite.
"We can't blast our way in, we can't smash our way in and we can't sneak our way in, so let's go through the front door" Carbine said with a conspiratal wink.
Modo's frown of worry changed to an enlightened grin. "What sort of takeaway is a stink-fish going to go for?"
"Worms!" all four mice yelled in unison.
But where from?" Stoker asked out loud, mulling the problem over in his mind.
"Easy, we find out who Limburger's supplier on earth is and we get together a nice little meal for cheese-breath" Carbine replied. "But before we can do that, we've got some Intel to gather" she said as she climbed onto her bike.
With Carbine's idea firmly entrenched in his mind, Throttle was able once more to return to the job he was best at. Taking control, he started issuing directions to the other mice.
"Carbine, you and Stoker head to Chef Andy's and let him know what's happened. See if he knows anyone in the fishing industry that supplies to Limburger Enterprises. Modo and I are going to muscle in on one of the bars his goons frequent. We'll find out what's going on with that tower!"
Carbine nodded, slammed her helmet down and took off, confident Stoker could keep up with her.
"LET'S ROCK AND RIDE!" Throttle hollered in tandem with Modo as the two brothers drove in the direction of the Catanonian Bar.
The two brother arrived at the bar and walked in, their bodies rigid with adrenalised anger. Throttle's eyes scanned the crowd, trying to identify anyone that looked like one of Limburger's goons.
"Can't see any bro" Modo said in disappointment, his height giving him an advantage his tan brother didn't have.
"The grease stain and his flunkies should be here by now. They're usually drowning the last of their brain cells by sixish!" Throttle said, growling in frustration. "I'll ask the barman" he said, moving purposely toward the bar counter.
The male bartender greeted them and asked them what their poison would be.
"We're looking for someone" Throttle told him, waving aside the offer of a drink.
"Can't says I can help you, but I'll try" the friendly bartender said.
"Big guy, drips oil, not very smart. Or one of his pony-tailed friends."
At this announcement, the bartender's face changed from friendly to downright hostile.
"Sorry gents, can't help you!" he said, and turned his back on the mice.
Modo's eye blazed red and he moved forward, ready to yank the bartender over the counter and illicit the information from him, with or without violence!
"Easy big guy!" Throttle said, putting his arm out to stop his grey bro from pummelling his way through the bar's patrons. "We're not going to get any help like this. We'll try the Dog's Breath instead."
Throttle turned round and found his way barred by a large biker and a good portion of the bar's inhabitants.
"If you're friends of that pathetic oilspill and his monkeys, I suggest you leave now and never come back here!" the large biker rumbled.
The crowd behind him nodded in agreement and several hand-held weapons, including brass knuckles, base-ball bats and chains were brought out for the mice to see.
Throttle could see the hostility radiating off the crowd and decided honesty would be the best policy if he and his bro wanted to live to see another day.
"Greasepit and his like aren't friends of ours. My apologies for any misunderstandings" he said smoothly, his husky voice calm and level.
The large biker stepped closer and looked Throttle up and down, doing the same to Modo before his face split into a grin.
"Do you know a guy named Vinnie?" asked the biker.
Throttle's cautious nature made him pause but his gut instinct told him he could trust this massive human.
"Yes, he looks like us but he has white fur" Throttle replied.
"And his girlfriend's name is Charlie" the biker finished for him.
"You know them?" Modo asked eagerly, barely able to contain his excitement.
The biker nodded. "I drive a taxi during the day and I dropped them off at the airport when they were on their way to Vegas. Nice couple, if a tad thick about admitting they were sweet on each other!"
"I'll say" Throttle muttered in agreement and Modo had to swallow a smile at his leader's uncharacteristic outspokenness.
"So what's happened to your friend and his woman?" the biker asked.
"Greasepit's boss has kidnapped them and we were looking to get them out" Throttle said.
The biker nodded thoughtfully. "Name's Big Ned" he said, holding his hand out to Throttle.
"Throttle, and this is Modo" Throttle said, shaking his hand. Modo did the same and was impressed by the beefy human's grip.
"Nice to meet ya's. Whatever you need to get your bro and Charlie out, you got it. We ain't no friends of Greasepit ourselves!" Big Ned said and the crowd behind him laughed in appreciation of the joke.
Before Throttle could answer, his cell phone rang and he excused himself as he answered it.
"Throttle, we're in luck!" Carbine's excited voice greeted him. "Chef Andy knows the guy who provides the worms to Limburger. He says the next shipment is due for delivery tomorrow, sometime in the mid-afternoon."
"Nice job Carbine. Limburger will be getting a delivery tomorrow alright, but there'll be an unsuspected plague….of mice!" Throttle replied. "Meet us back at the Last Chance in an hour. We've met some unknown friends of Charlie and Vinnie and they want to help out."
The connection was cut as Carbine hung up on her end and Throttle returned the phone to his pocket.
"I'm guessing that you have a plan already in the making judging from that call" Big Ned observed.
Throttle nodded, his mind absently piecing together the strategy that would get them inside and ensure there were no casualties for the good guys.
"If we get hold of the truck that does the delivery, we can swap the contents for ourselves, get inside and rescue Charlie and Vinnie" he said. "But getting through the front door is going to be the hardest part. Delivery Mice aren't exactly normal these days!"
"No, but human delivery personnel wouldn't raise an eyebrow" pointed out Big Ned. "A couple of the boys and I will get you inside, while my people keep the rest of the goons busy elsewhere."
"Better make sure it's an extra large serve of worms" pointed out a young biker standing next to Big Ned. "Modo isn't exactly sample-sized!"
Everyone including Modo laughed at the joke, until two of the female patrons mentioned about doing a little Modo sampling themselves, which caused the tall biker to blush his trademark crimson red.
"Nobody's sampling anything!" Big Ned rumbled, feeling sorry for the Martian's discomfort. "These are our friends, and you'll treat them with proper respect" he said, particularly to a middle-aged blonde biker who was eyeing both mice with interest.
When the female groans of disappointment had died down, Big Ned said something that caused chills to run up and down the Martians' spines.
"One thing you should know, word on the street is that it aint Limburger in charge no more. Some ugly chick that goes by the name of an Italian cheese is in charge now."
"Romana Parmagana!" Modo whispered hoarsely.
"Yeah, that's it!" Big Ned said, pleased someone knew what he was talking about.
"She'll be dead meat" Throttle said.
"Who? Charlie?" asked Big Ned, not liking the thought of something happening to the elfin-like mechanic.
"Actually, I meant Romana. Last time they met, Romana made some nasty comment to Charlie that had her fuming for days. Our feisty mechanic will tear her eyes out if she gets the chance!"
Throttle spent the next ten minutes filling Big Ned's gang in on what had happened in their first encounter with Romana Parmagana and Jack McCyber. At the mention of Jack's name, the young biker next to Big Ned straightened up and an intrigued gleam appeared in his eye, vanishing just as quickly when Modo glanced his way.
Throttle also used the opportunity to outline what he needed from Big Ned and his gang.
"Alright lads, and of course ladies" Big Ned said, acknowledging the female bikers. "Hit the sack early, I want you fresh for pummelling goons tomorrow" he ordered.
The bar gradually emptied as Big Ned's gang headed off for some shut-eye, while the biker mice and Big Ned and the young biker, plus one other member of the gang headed to the Last Chance to finalise plans with Carbine and Stoker.
Satisfied with the workings, Throttle called it a night and the humans left for their own homes, while the Martian males settled down in the Last Chance living room. Carbine preferred to sleep in her own bed, where her worries wouldn't keep the others awake. Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, she gave up trying to sleep and went downstairs, intending to go for a walk to clear her head.
"Carbine?" Throttle's voice whispered from the couch.
Carbine tippy-toed over to the couch and looked down at her handsome fiancé's features.
"Can't sleep" she explained in a whisper, running her hands through her hair in frustration.
Throttle didn't say anything, just held his arms out to her, inviting her to join him. Carbine crawled quietly onto the couch and settled herself in his arms, resting her head on his chest. The rise and fall of his chest soon settled her and she drifted off, safe and secure in the embrace of the mouse she loved most in the universe.
Around lunchtime the next day, Big Ned returned with his two companions and the plan was put into effect, much to the relief of all involved.