Howdy, my dear readers!
How are y'all doing out there?
As always, thank you so much for the reviews/favs/follows!
I can't emphasize enough how much your support means to me.
So, I finally managed to write the next chapter of this story, and I had a blast doing so.
Well, eventually I did, at first I had no idea how to work towards the idea I already had, but I finally figured it out.
I hope you guys like it!
Enjoy! ^^
Chapter 16
-Sherlock Holmes and the Mighty Martians-
With a groan, Charley fell into the chair and closed her eyes.
Vinnie wasn't kidding when he told her he wanted to train her.
Every muscle in her body, and that included the ones she didn't know even existed, was sore, making it feel as if her body was on fire.
Kind of like having a fever without the fever.
The good news was that, despite her natural-born clumsiness, she was making some serious progress, but not even that made her feel better right now.
Never had she known that muscle pain could make one feel so miserable, but she knew now.
Heaving a sigh, she opened her green eyes and looked around the garage with a heavy heart.
Business was booming, which was beneficial for the wallet, sure.
Unfortunately, Pux was on a two-week holiday with her mother, which meant that all the work now landed on Charley's very sore shoulders and for some reason, she had a hard time staying on schedule.
Which was odd, because before she hired Pux for the weekends, she had no trouble whatsoever running the garage on her own.
Perhaps that was because she was just so tired all the time.
Or maybe she was just spoiled due to Pux's good help.
But okay.
If she had to be completely honest, she didn't only miss Pux for her excellent assistance.
Despite her intense character, Charley actually enjoyed being in the presence of the sassy young girl with bouncing blonde curls and without her, it was just way too quiet here.
Clenching her teeth, Charley reached out to the small bottle of water standing across the table, and when she finally had it in her hands, she fell back in the chair with a grunt.
"Jesus Christ", she cursed quietly to herself as she struggled with the cap, for even her fingers were in this constant state of agonizing cramp.
If she had known beforehand that Vinnie was like the drillmaster from hell, she would never have signed up for this shit, then again, her knight in shining fur didn't exactly do half measures so she wasn't sure why it surprised her that much.
After what felt like a lifetime, she finally managed to get the cap off, only to throw it away in some sort of childish attempt to vent some of her agitation.
An action that came with consequences, for she almost pulled a muscle in her arm and a sharp pain shot all the way up to her neck, making her squint.
"Goddammit, I'm gonna kill him", she murmured, massaging her neck in the hope it would ease the pain a bit, but didn't.
Of course it didn't.
Nothing could save this day.
It was doomed, all because of this killing muscle pain.
As she lowered her hand, she took a sip from the cold water and closed her eyes again, trying very hard to relax, if only for a few minutes before she had to go back to work again.
Four weeks had passed since that night Vinnie had taken her on a Mind Walk in the treehouse, and things were going surprisingly well, actually.
Never had she thought that she would be able to adjust to a life filled with aliens and the associated war this easily, but she did.
It felt good to be part of something, especially when that something included a very sexy and sweet creature with fur as white as snow.
The fact that this same creature had saved her from her solitude was a very nice addition to all this.
Despite Vinnie's earlier reluctance, he had done everything within his power to make this all work, to make her a real asset for the team.
The same applied to Throttle and Modo, and she couldn't be more grateful.
Although they didn't allow her to join them in the real fight, they did let her work on their respective rides on a regular basis, which was enough, for now.
Working on alien bikes was simultaneously like a dream coming true and challenging, but it was mostly the challenge that made it so much fun.
She really needed to use her brain instead of just working on automatic pilot, like she was used to after years of experience, and it was like a breath of fresh air.
O'Neill had proven to be trustworthy so far, though Charley could tell that both the mice and the detective were still slightly aloof towards each other.
She guessed she couldn't really blame them, considering their history and line of work, but despite that, their teamwork was simply exquisite.
Shortly after him finding out that the vigilantes he had been hunting were in fact aliens, O'Neill had suggested involving Chicago's law enforcement, knowing perfectly well that it wasn't realistic to run an operation as big as taking down a world-domination-seeking alien who had its roots clawed so deep in the city behind his boss's back.
The Martians, especially Throttle, had been reluctant at first, mostly because they didn't want any more people to find out what was really going on in the Windy City.
Eventually, they had come to an agreement.
The mice would cooperate and collaborate with the local police IF they stayed completely anonymouse, and that included Limburger.
To secure their secret identity, they would only work directly with O'Neill and no one else.
And yes, Throttle had literally said anonymouse, which was cute, really.
By some miracle, O'Neill had managed to convince his boss to work with the so-called vigilantes instead of against them, and he was now the proud leader of his own yet small unit.
Even more so, he had kept his promise.
No one besides O'Neill knew either about the mice or Limburger and strangely enough, it worked.
There was far less destruction than before this arrangement, and far more thugs behind bars, much to the boss's satisfaction.
From what Charley could gather, the idea was to deplete Limburger's so-called army first to increase the villain's vulnerability, and once he was alone and defenseless, the mice would take care of him, whatever that might mean.
Of course, someone wasn't very pleased with the less destruction part, but even Vinnie knew he had to look at the bigger picture and thus, he did his part, though not without complaining.
Come to think of it, if there was one thing the white-furred Martian was good at, it was complaining.
But she still loved him with every fiber in her body.
Yes, he was a real piece of work, but he was there for her and he loved her unconditionally.
Only thinking of him brought a smile to her face, you know, one of those smiles that made one look goofy, and she carefully touched her still slightly searing lips with her fingertips.
Last night, Vinnie had brought her to the treehouse to unwind after days of hard training and working overtime at the garage, but unwinding wasn't the word she would use to describe the uh… eventful evening.
But perhaps that didn't matter, for the outcome was the same - a full battery along with a certain calmness.
They didn't spend the night together very often, for Vinnie didn't like to leave his bro's by themselves, and she wasn't sure whether it was because he was afraid he would miss out on anything, like a fight, or because he was genuinely concerned that something would happen to them if he wasn't there.
She suspected it was both, but who knew?
He was a very complicated mouse, and although she was slowly starting to understand him, there was still so much to learn.
Either way, the rare nights they did spend together always made her feel more rested than any other night could accomplish.
She figured it had something to do with the safe feeling he always managed to give her, you know, when he wrapped those strong and muscular arms around her to pull her closer to him.
When he nuzzled his nose in her neck.
When he heaved a somewhat happy and satisfied sigh right before falling asleep…
And then there was the fact that Martian Mice had a higher body temperature than humans, making him not only her personal knight in shining fur but heating pad as well.
Yeah…
If she had something to say about it, she wouldn't mind spending every night with him for the rest of her life, but the fact remained that they were at war.
And living in a war required sacrifices and certain adjustments.
The sound of the garbage truck pulling up in front of the garage broke her out of her thoughts, and her green eyes darted to the clock.
A shock went through her body when she saw the time, and she jumped at her feet, something she immediately regretted, and not only because of that vicious muscle pain.
Due to her sudden movement, the water bottle slipped out of her hand and of course, the remaining water splashed all over her.
She let out a soft shriek when the cold liquid trickled down her cleavage, giving her goosebumps all over her body and she quickly snatched a towel to clean herself up.
"Way to go, Charlene. Way to go", she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she dabbed her wet blouse.
While she was doing that, she looked at the clock again, feeling slightly distressed.
Usually, she didn't do strict timetables, she just worked until the job was done, but that was when she was still alone, which she wasn't anymore.
And the one good thing about Pux being away was that the mice, and possibly O'Neill if his busy schedule allowed it, could come over for dinner.
Which gave her about two hours to finish up the Harley she had been working on before her break.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Deciding that her clothes would dry themselves while she was working, she threw away the towel and went back to work.
…
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, our three furry heroes were on their way to their next mission.
Once they were close to the building O'Neill had told them to go to after receiving an anonymous tip, they skidded to a halt to assess the situation.
"Now remember, bro's, we're only here to find out if something fishy is going on. O'Neill will handle the rest", Throttle told his beloved friends, although he only gave Vinnie a meaningful look and not Modo.
The white-furred mouse heaved an excessively loud sigh as he rested his helmeted head in his hand.
"Man, I sure miss the days when we just went in guns blazing…"
"Simpler times", Modo grinned as he patted his young bro on the back, not planning on telling him that he actually felt the same way, for it would only plant ideas in Vinnie's head, and knowing him, they would be stupid ones.
Sure, this whole team-up thingy with O'Neill worked better than he initially thought, which was all that mattered, but damn, he too missed the time where it was just him and his bro's with only Martian Thunder standing between them and the enemy.
"Ah, lighten up, will ya, Vincent? It's not like we never have a good fight no more. It's just a little less frequent", Throttle snickered, using his helmet to zoom in on the building.
It looked quiet, but that didn't necessarily have to mean something.
"Now that's just other language for boring. I need to whip some tail and soon, before I possibly explode or even worse; fade away", Vinnie whined, draping himself over the windshield of his bike to display his misery.
Modo eyed him with pursed lips.
"You do know we had a good fight only two days ago, right?"
Vinnie cast him a deadly glare.
"And your point is?"
"It's been barely forty-eight hours."
"My thoughts exactly, big fella. I need my daily dose of violence to maintain good health."
"Good mental health, ya mean", Modo muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he folded his arms.
"Okay, boys, knock it off", Throttle intervened, knowing his bro's well enough that the clock almost hit wrestle o'clock, and although he too loved to play around a la Martian-style, now was neither the time nor the place.
"Let's scope this place out."
After putting their bikes in silent mode (one of the many brilliant modifications Charley came up with), they drove around the warehouse that was their destination and stopped under one of the high windows at the back.
Throttle opened his visor with an amused look on his face, and he gestured at the window almost gracefully.
"Vincent, if you please."
Still softly cursing under his breath, Vinnie climbed on his bike and after cleaning a part of the window with a soft squeaking sound, he peeked inside.
His red eyes wandered over the group of goons, the working machines and Greasepit standing near a control panel, and his heartbeat accelerated when he saw the many opportunities this place had to offer.
Or well, that would be the case if they hadn't been forced to change their usual MO.
Ugh.
"No wonder Limburger can afford to buy up all of Chicago. He prints his own money", he told his bro's, and he glanced down at them with a somewhat hopeful smile on his face.
"I'd say - it's time to put a little kink in his cash fuh-low."
Throttle let out a soft chuckle, not even close to surprised by Vinnie's attempt to turn this recon mission into one that included a lot of big booms.
"No can do, baby bro. O'Neill has to catch them in the act to arrest them. If we blow the evidence to smithereens, his hands will be tied. Nope, sorry, we have to play this one by the book."
Vinnie clenched his teeth, but instead of really protesting, he only muttered some Martian curse words under his breath to vent some of his frustration.
Perhaps that wasn't really like him, but he knew Throttle well enough to know when it was useless to go against him, and this was definitely one of those hateful moments.
He even planned on climbing down as quiet as a mouse, he really was.
But things got complicated when he turned away from the window.
He wasn't sure what happened, but it seemed as if his foot just stepped into nothingness, and before he knew it, he lost his balance.
His long tail lashed through the air, one last attempt to stay on his feet but to no avail and he fell off his bike.
Perhaps that wouldn't be a problem if he didn't try to grab the small window ledge right before that happened, but he did.
Even worse, his knuckles accidentally knocked on the window while he was at it, probably alarming those inside at the same time.
Throttle, who was about to call O'Neill, slowly lowered his hand as he stared blankly at the white-furred mouse lying on the dirty ground, and so did Modo.
Vinnie looked back a bit sheepishly.
"Hehe… oops", he chuckled with flushed cheeks, and Throttle gnashed his teeth as he glanced at Modo, who shrugged a bit helplessly.
"Maybe they didn't hear it."
The sounds of machines stopping, people running around and the characteristic sound of loading guns coming from inside told them otherwise, and instead of calling O'Neill, Throttle closed his visor.
"Well, it looks like you're getting your fight after all, Vincent."
He didn't even sound that unfriendly.
Not that Vinnie cared.
The moment he realized it was tail-whipping time, he leaped on his bike, his humiliating fall already forgotten.
"AAAOOOW, I've been dying to say this all day, dudes! Let's ROCK…"
Modo and Throttle shared a somewhat amused look before they popped a wheelie.
"...and RIDE!"
In all fairness, they too enjoyed a good fight from time to time.
They were just less… obvious about it.
When they flew around the corner of the building, Limburger's goons were already running outside to find the person snooping around, but the moment they spotted the mice, a few of them immediately opened fire in some sort of panicked response whilst the rest turned tail and ran back inside.
"Ahw, they're running away", Modo snickered, zigzagging to avoid the bullets coming from those still standing.
"Don't get too excited just yet, bro. I'm sure they'll come back. They always do, like them cockroaches", Throttle told his grey-furred friend while preparing his bike to return fire.
As if on cue, a raw voice was heard from the warehouse.
"Get 'em, yous goons!"
Soon thereafter, a group of buggies burst outside, and Throttle shrugged with half a smile on his face.
"Told ya."
"YIIAAUW, my blood pressure is starting to ri-ise!", Vinnie exclaimed with a singsong voice, and after making a little dance with his bike, he opened fire on the buggies.
And with that, all hell broke loose.
…
After parking his car, O'Neill leaned back in his seat to take a moment to prepare himself.
He was just on his way to the warehouse to meet with the mice when dispatch called to tell him 'there's been another one'.
Truth be told, these simple words had turned his blood into ice, and while softly cursing under his breath, he had turned the car around.
And so here he was.
Gathering enough courage to at least step out of the vehicle.
One would say that with his long-standing expertise, he had seen it all, but this…
This was one case that gave him the chills, and that was saying something, considering aliens were running around in his city.
Knowing he couldn't sit here forever, he took a deep breath and after grabbing his hat from the passenger seat, he stepped out of the car.
He just put the hat on his bald head when his slightly chubby partner came walking towards him.
The somewhat pained expression on his usually joyful round face was enough for O'Neill to know that this was, indeed, another one, and an unsettling feeling washed over him, nestling itself in his stomach.
"Do we know who she is?", he asked the moment Rex reached him.
Instead of being insulted by this somewhat crude greeting, Rex Jackson merely grabbed his notebook.
"Patricia Wilson", he answered grimly as he flipped through the pages, and his bluish eyes darted to O'Neill.
"She was reported missing by her husband three weeks ago."
"Pregnant?", O'Neill asked as he walked towards the crime scene, followed by his trusted partner.
"Yup. Not anymore, though."
The unsettling feeling transformed into a heavy one, making it feel as if his stomach was about to drop out of his body, and O'Neill swallowed with difficulty in some feeble attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat.
"It's the third one, O'Neill. That means we've got ourselves a serial killer on our hands", Rex told him as he held up the yellow tape for his colleague.
"I know how to count, Rex. And I don't need you to tell me that three strikes equals a shitstorm", O'Neill grumbled, grumpy like an old man as he straightened his back and marched over to the body.
Not at all impressed by O'Neill's snarl, Rex followed him like the loyal dog he was.
He was working with O'Neill for years now and, as sad as it might be, used to his unique and somewhat unpleasant way of communicating.
"You think it has something to do with those mysterious vigilantes you work with?", he asked, adjusting his glasses.
O'Neill didn't even have to think about that question as he slowly halted next to the victim.
"No. They are the good guys. This… this ain't the work of someone with a heart."
His brown eyes wandered over the female that was lying at his feet as he fought against the nausea that popped up like a clown puppet out of a box.
If he was anyone to judge, she used to be a beautiful young woman in the prime of her life.
Not anymore, she wasn't, and not only because she was as dead as a doornail.
No, that was mainly because of the giant hole that used to be her stomach, and her guts hanging out didn't really help either.
If anything, it was disgraceful, and O'Neill heaved a sigh before he turned around and grabbed his phone.
"I need to make a call. After that, I wanna hear everything you know."
Rex nodded, and he walked to the coroner to give O'Neill some space.
After typing in the number, O'Neill brought the phone to his ear and gazed up at the clouded sky as he waited for Throttle to pick up.
It took him a while, but eventually, the soft and husky voice of the alien mouse came over the speaker.
"Heya, O'Neill. Funny, I was just about to call you."
A loud explosion was heard in the background, followed by a ray gun being fired, and a frown appeared on O'Neill's face.
"Now what did I say about keeping a low profile?", he hissed into the phone, trying very hard not to break the thing in two, but it was hard.
Working with these mice was quite the challenge, sometimes.
They seemed to be a magnet for trouble, and although he knew deep down that at least Throttle did the best he could to make this all work without too much collateral damage, their little setbacks were severely annoying, mostly because it was he who paid the price.
Yes, his boss had agreed with this crazy plan of his to work with the notorious vigilantes without even knowing who (or what) they were, but only because O'Neill had promised him less violence and a higher arrest rate.
A promise he intended to keep.
He too cared for this city, perhaps even more than was good for him.
A smoky chuckle was heard.
"Yeah, about that…"
"AAAAOOOOWWW!"
Vinnie's characteristic battle cry almost made O'Neill's eardrums snap, and he quickly held the phone a few centimeters away from his ear with a face like thunder.
"Jesus Christ, what on Earth is going on there?!", he barked, although he already knew the answer.
That white-furred maniac was going on, that's what.
His need for violence was disturbing, to say the least, and highly inconvenient from time to time, for earlier explained reasons.
"We're just blowing off some steam. No sweat, O'Neillio, we've got it all under control", Throttle told him, but despite that he tried to sound nonchalant, O'Neill didn't miss the slightly annoyed undertone, telling him that this wasn't what Throttle had planned, which made sense, actually.
In the short time that he knew the mice, the detective had learned that the tan-furred leader was loyal, highly dedicated to the cause, and a uh… mouse of his word.
He also knew that Throttle did everything within his power to control that white-furred daredevil, but that it wasn't always as easy as it looked, simply because Vinnie's need to cause mayhem grew even bigger when he wasn't able to blow off some steam from time to time.
God only knew what would happen then.
The city probably wouldn't be standing after that.
With this knowledge in the back of his mind, O'Neill took a few deep breaths to calm down again, for it wouldn't be fair to take his frustration out on the wrong person.
Besides…
"Well, maybe it's a good thing that you have it all under control, because I'm gonna be stuck here for a little while."
"Where's here?", Throttle asked calmly as another explosion almost shredded the detective's eardrums to pieces, soon followed by Vinnie singing a very off-key version of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now.
"Crime scene", O'Neill said shortly, not wanting to share any more information than he needed to, especially not about cases that had nothing to do with aliens.
"That's some rough shit, man. I'm sorry."
O'Neill's lips twitched, as always, he was somewhat touched by the tan-furred mouse's kindness and ability to sympathize without making him feel like a fucking baby.
"Yeah, it is. You sure you got it covered?"
"Absolutely positive. You do your thing while we do ours, 'kay? I'll ask Charley to save you some hotdogs, and no, I won't tell your wife", Throttle joked with a withheld chuckle, knowing already how much his beloved Rose hated junk food.
This time, a real smile appeared on the detective's face.
It was strange, really, how these three mice were both a pain in the ass and brightening up his life in ways he never could have imagined.
"Alrighty then. I'll call you when I'm done here."
"Okey-dokey. Later, Sherlock Holmes."
"Later, Mighty Mouse."
And with that, O'Neill hung up and focussed his attention back on the main problem.
A serial killer ravaged the Windy City and it was up to him and Rex to stop him.
Time to get to it then.
…
Charley had just made her way over to the small kitchen adjacent to her garage when blaring music and roaring engines announced the arrival of her three furry friends.
Soon thereafter, Vinnie practically bounced into the kitchen, all hyped up.
"Hey sweetheart, we're back!", he cheered happily, and Charley playfully rolled her eyes.
As if their quite loud entrance wasn't enough for her to know that they were, indeed, back.
Oblivious to the fact that he was stating the obvious, Vinnie pulled her in his arms and swirled her around before putting her back on her feet and planting a kiss on the top of her head.
Suddenly, his smile vanished like smoke in the wind, and he sniffed at her hair with a furrowed brow.
"You smell different", he muttered, but then he shrugged and skipped to the refrigerator.
"When's dinner?", he asked as he leaned on the now open door of the fridge, searching for a root beer and already moving on with his daily routine, but the same thing couldn't be said for Charley, who was standing right where he left her, feeling severely confused and not only because all this happened in just a split second.
She smelled different?
What the hell was he talking about?
Was this his way of telling her that she stank?
Her cheeks flushed, and she brought her nose to her armpits as inconspicuously as possible.
Well, perhaps she didn't exactly smell like a bouquet of petunias after a hard day's work at the garage, but it wasn't that bad.
Perhaps the cordite of today's explosions had affected his sense of smell, for it was obvious that he had been in a fight.
His clothes were dusty, there was even a tear in his black jeans.
Add that to his exceptionally good mood, and violà.
The question of how his day had been was off the table.
Deciding that this had to be the most logical explanation for him commenting on her scent, Charley shrugged off the confusion and made her way over to the stove.
"Dinner is ready in twenty."
"Ah, man, that's like forever!", Vinnie whined, but Charley merely ignored him as she pushed him away from the fridge so she could open the small freezer below it.
"Is O'Neill coming?", she asked, needing this information to know how many hotdogs she had to make.
"Nope. He's at a crime scene. Promised we'd save him some hotdogs though", Throttle answered that question, and Charley looked over her shoulder, straight into his friendly face.
"Howdy, babe."
"Hey there, Charley ma'am", Modo greeted her as he walked into the kitchen after Throttle, and the human female waved at both of them to greet them back.
But then, a frown appeared on her face and she glanced at Throttle again.
"Did you say crime scene? Is he still doing that now he's teaming up with you?"
The tan-furred leader plopped down on one of the chairs and caught the can of root beer Vinnie threw at him without trouble.
"From what I've heard earlier, this is about a case that started before he knew the truth about us. Guess he couldn't let it go", he shrugged as he opened the can with a loud sizzling sound.
Charley slowly nodded and focussed her attention back on getting the hotdogs out of the freezer.
Finding it hard to let things go sounded a lot like their befriended detective, so it made perfect sense.
But just when she was about to fill a pan with water to defrost them, she turned around to face the mice, who were now all three sitting at the table.
"Wait a minute. Do you think it's about these gutted women? I read about them in the paper."
Again, Throttle shrugged, not as nearly as interested as she was, simply because it wasn't their business but O'Neill's.
"Could be."
"He's not really generous with sharing information about that part of his life. Ya know, the alien free part", Modo explained when Charley was still waiting for an answer that would actually make sense, and she shot him a grateful look before turning her back on them again to continue making dinner.
She wasn't sure why she was so interested in this case, maybe because the murders were so brutal and for some sick reason, that piqued her curiosity.
Well, as it turned out, she wasn't the only one.
"Gutted woman, 'ey?", Vinnie mused out loud as he rubbed his chin.
"So, hey, you think it could be a werewolf? All this reminds me of that documentary I've watched."
Charley snorted, putting the hotdogs in the water.
"Werewolves don't exist."
"I bet you said the same thing about aliens", Vinnie grinned cheekily.
"Besides…-", Charley continued imperturbably, raising her voice a bit.
"-…I don't think Twilight falls in the category of documentaries."
Throttle almost choked on his root beer while Modo nearly fell off his chair.
"You've watched Twilight?", the latter asked, completely dumbstruck.
Vinnie merely shrugged.
"What, Bella's hot as fuck."
Charley's back stiffened, if only a little, but Vinnie's keen eye didn't miss it.
"But not as hot as you, sweetheart", he quickly added with a faint blush visible under his white fur.
Charley's lips curled into a smile, one he didn't see since she was still standing with her back toward him.
"How flattering. You telling me I'm hotter than that expressionless vampire chick truly is the highlight of my day so far. You sure know how to compliment a girl, Vinnie."
"Well, you know me, babe. I aim to please."
She didn't need to see his face to know that he was having that awfully sexy smile etched on his face again, and her heart fluttered in her chest at the thought alone.
Knowing she needed to stay focussed on making dinner, she fought the urge to glance over her shoulder.
Who knew what would happen if she looked into his twinkling red eyes while he was having that dazzling smile on his face?
Only very awkward things, and she wasn't sure if her ego could bear it.
It still hadn't recovered from their first formal meeting.
Go vigilantes, pfff.
How on Earth did she come up with that?
She still didn't know.
"Anyways, I wasn't talking about Twilight, but Supernatural. Sam and Dean talk all the time about werewolves eating hearts and leaving gutted bodies behind. So I think my werewolf theory ain't that far fetched", Vinnie babbled his merry way, and instead of telling him that Supernatural didn't really count as a documentary as well, Charley just listened to the lovely sound of his voice.
While she was doing that, her mind slowly became blank.
Her sore muscles relaxed, and for the first time in forever, she felt genuinely happy.
Here she was, making dinner for her odd yet loving family.
It made her feel all warm and fuzzy from the inside but mostly loved.
She hadn't felt loved in a very long time, but she did now, and it felt so good that she could cry.
Just when she was about to roast the buns for the hotdogs, the side door of the kitchen flew open.
"Charley, I'm… OH."
Charley's heart skipped a few beats and she swirled around so fast that she almost knocked the pan with boiling water off the stove.
The mice jumped at their feet at the same time, and they all stared at the person standing in the door opening with her lips still forming a perfect 'oh'.
"Pux!", Charley called out with a shrieking voice, one that would've brought a blush to her cheeks if she wasn't so flabbergasted right now.
"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were on a holiday with your mother!"
Pux didn't answer, in fact, she didn't even move.
She just stood there solid like a statue, which was at odds with her usual bouncy presence.
Truth be told, Charley couldn't recall seeing Pux this motionless, ever.
Her blue eyes were wide open and fixed on the mice, who gawked back at her.
For a moment, nothing happened.
It was so deadly quiet, one could hear a pin drop, and although Charley seemed to be the only one who was able to move, she had no idea what to do.
No idea what to say.
This was highly unexpected, next to inconvenient.
Above all, she was probably the last person to tell another how to deal with encountering extraterrestrial life.
Someone really should write a manual about that.
After what felt like a lifetime, Pux blinked.
And again.
And again.
Her chest swelled up as she took a deep breath, and Charley could see the mice brace themselves from the corner of her eye.
But instead of screaming her head off, as they all expected, Pux pursed her lips and turned her gaze away from the mice to look at Charley with a slightly tilted head.
"Charley? Why are there three giant gerbils in your kitchen?"
Charley looked back at her quizzically, not sure how it was possible for Pux to sound so calm.
Perhaps a bit too calm, considering she just found three aliens in her friend's kitchen.
Hm.
Maybe she wasn't the best example for dealing with alien encounters, she did know that this situation needed a delicate approach to stop possible escalation, and thus she gave the mice a slightly warning look to tell them it was probably for the best to let her handle this before she cleared her throat.
"They uhm… they ain't gerbils. They're mice. From Mars", she added, although she wasn't sure why, for she realized how stupid this must sound.
"Aliens", Pux concluded briefly but intensely with a blank face, nodding her head and her blonde curls bounced happily along.
Charley relaxed a little, and so did the mice.
Against all odds, she seemed to take this all very well, at least better than Charley expected.
But then, Pux suddenly snatched a frying pan off the stove and launched herself at the mouse standing closest to her, which happened to be Vinnie.
"NO WAY I'LL COME WITH YOU WITHOUT A FIGHT! I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE GET ABDUCTED BY ALIENS AND I'M TELLING YOU, IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN!", she roared as she lashed out with the pan.
Although this came highly unexpected, Vinnie still managed to duck just in time, and the pan missed him by only a few inches.
"Whoa, sweetheart, chill! We're not here to abduct you!", he tried to reason with this little human who was clearly insane in his humble opinion, and he scrambled backward to create some healthy distance between them.
But Pux followed him like a wasp smelling sweetness, swinging the pan at him with every step he and therefore she took.
"YOU WILL NEVER HAVE ME OR MY UTERUS! I ALONE DECIDE WHO CAN PLANT SOMETHING IN THERE, YOU HEAR ME? I'VE SEEN THE MOVIES!"
"W-What?", Vinnie breathed with his red eyes wide open.
He was so severely shocked by her words that he stopped moving, if only for a nanosecond, but it was enough and with a loud 'cloink', Pux hit the white-furred mouse square on the nose.
Vinnie let out a squeak as he grabbed his now bleeding nose.
"Ooch! Easy on the merchandise, babe, it's grade-A mouse material you're messing with here!"
But when Pux still kept coming at him, he decided to cut his losses and turned tail.
Obviously, she was impossible to communicate with right now.
"Stay away from me, you crazy woman!", he yelled over his shoulder as he quickly bolted, but the blonde girl chased him down mercilessly, still screaming her head off about all the things she had seen in the movies while she tried to hit him again.
The three others watched the scene with their lower jaw practically resting on their shoes.
Modo was the first to recover, or at least enough to say something.
"We should probably do something."
Throttle blinked behind his glasses.
"Yeah, I'm just uhm…-"
He clicked his tongue with a frown.
"-…what is happening here?"
Charley put a hand over her mouth, not sure whether to cry or to burst into hysterical laughter by seeing the small, slender-built girl chasing a very buff macho mouse coming from Mars through her garage.
"If you ask me, it looks like Vinnie is about to be killed by an eighteen year old girl."
The corner of Modo's mouth twitched.
"I suppose we can't let that happen. His ego couldn't bear it."
At that moment, a horrified Vinnie flew past them, and they heard him yelling something that sounded a lot like 'Do something!'.
A smile appeared on Modo's face and when Pux was within hand's reach, he grabbed her by her hoodie.
"Okay, that's enough, Lil' Miss. Despite his talent of being a pain in the tail, I'm kind of attached to my little bro."
Obviously, this sudden interference took Pux off guard.
Breathing heavily, she dangled in Modo's grip as her blue eyes darted from Vinnie -who now stood behind his leader for protection and glared at her over Throttle's shoulder- to Modo.
The grey-furred giant flashed her a soothing smile that was supposed to calm her down but failed miserably, for Pux visibly paled.
Seeing Modo up close in his full intimidating glory obviously did something to her, despite his friendly smile.
However, Pux wasn't one who fazed easily, and while gritting her teeth, she raised the frying pan again, all ready to knock the light out of Modo's visible eye.
But then there was Throttle, whose tan-furred tail coiled around her wrist before he gently but firmly took the pan from her.
"Although this was definitely a sight to behold, I agree with my grey-furred friend over her. Fun's over. It's time for you to calm down. We're not here to hurt you."
Pux cast him a deadly glare with her lower lip slightly trembling, obviously not amused by him taking away her beloved pan, before her burning gaze landed on Charley.
"You have a lot of explaining to do."
So, I figured we could all use a lighter chapter with some humor after all the heavy shit I put Vinnie and Charley (and you guys) through.
Also, I really wanted Pux back in the story, and boy, whatta comeback, huh? :')
Although it first felt like a sort of 'in-between' chapter to me, there's a lot going on, actually.
And I wonder - what do you guys think will happen next?
I left a few hints here and there, it feels super obvious to me but that's probably because I already know what is going on, hehe.
Well, let me know, if you have some time to spare, that is.
It's really helpful for me as a writer to hear how the reader interprets my work.
Thank you so much for reading my story and supporting me.
Feel free to leave a review, always very much appreciated.
Stay safe out there, be nice to yourself and until next time, my friends!
Later!
PS: I'm currently rewriting Breaking The Habit, it's mostly grammar but there are new scenes added as well.
The first 'new' chapters are already on AO3, so go check it out if you want to. If not, no hard feelings, of course.
PS 2.0: Go read SpaceFlora's stories if you haven't read them already, they're fucking awesome!
Tata!
