Discovery: Homecoming
Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I have never, do not, and probably never will own my beloved Throttle nor any of his cohorts nor the concept of BMFM yada-yada-yada. But one day they shall be mine…and I'll share with inuficcrzy, KLC, and GG! And then the world will tremble before us, BWAHAHAHAHA! Erhem, but until then you can have all the fun reading this unoriginal original fiction. Throttle (the white guy with two Modo-arms) and Raptor (my firey and awesome mouse-chicka) are all mine, though. Defile them and there shall be blood to pay!

I also do not own PlayStation (copyright Sony) or the SoulCalibur (copyright Namco) franchise. I do, however, own one system and one game, and I also tend to get my ass kicked on it D;

Author's Note

Just a (not-so-brief) AN before the story so I can address a question that will be popping up in some readers' minds by the end of this chappy: Why in the world is Carbine such a bee-otch? Well, this is an excellent question, and there is a logical explanation: STRESS! Seriously, if somebody as optimistic as I am can turn into a right jackass at work when he's being flooded with orders, then I say Carbine is perfectly at liberty to be as much of a bitch as she wants right now. I mean, look at the work on her plate: She heads the Martian resistance against the Catatonians, is responsible for just about everything both military- and political-based, and on top of all that is living on a dying world and trying to restore it as well as she can. In addition, she has to worry about the resources from the dying world; water is scarce enough, and with the Cats effectively having conquered the majority of the surface of Mars, she can't send a continuous supply train to and from the surface. So yeah, I say all the power to Carbine. Someone doing what she's doing has every right to lose their temper; she is only mortal after all.

So that's that. I'd also like to give a couple of shout-outs, not all of which are BMFM-based. Firstly I would like to shout out inuficcrzy, KLCTheBookworm, and GirlyGeek, my fellow conspirators! One of 'em doesn't know it yet, but she'll be making an appearance in my up-and-coming Everybody's Favourite Talk Show: Biker Mice Edition. They've also got great writing talent, so go and read their stuff. Seriously, this chapter can wait: GOGOGOGOGO!

Another shout-out to ElvenAngelMayCry, a DMC fic-author. While I'm not well-versed in DMC, I can say that her stories did capture me. In addition, we are collaborating to write a Redwall fan-fiction: The Vanguard. We've already got loads of stuff done on that, so expect to see the next chapter up soon! Hopefully D=

Finally I have a double shout-out, to warrior4 and Keleiah. Both of these authors are key figures in my EFTS:BME fic and gave me permission to use their characters Rector and Fox-Kel. So he's made a lot of stuff happen. Both of them are wonderful authors, too; go read their stuff! Kelly (gotcha!) and Warrior are both tremendous comedians with their funny fics, but are also great at making epic fictions (epic being long and in-depth/well-thought as opposed to epic being just really good).

Anywhozeewhatzits, onto the chappy! This AN is way too long already D= As with last chapter, there will be an endnote system where necessary.

Chapter Two: Into the Inferno

Modo blanched in shock at Hera's words. Rimfire? Dying? When they finally clicked, Modo blinked the tears from his eye and asked aloud, "How are we going to get him to the base in time?" Raptor and Rimfire's Throttle both nodded; the same fear gripped their hearts.

Hera didn't answer them. Instead he looked at Throttle and said, "Regenerator, now! I need water!"

Throttle blinked behind his specs for a moment before it clicked. He whirled around and ran to his bike, unstrapping the Regenerator from its place on his bike. Placing the machine upright, Throttle pulled the trigger and blasted it straight at the sandstorm, hoping to make water from the wind and sand. A stone sank in his gut as the sand and dust turned to ice instead. He cut the blast; ice wasn't going to help!

Hera ignored the groan of dismay that came from Modo and thrust his hand at the ice. He cupped his palm upwards and turned it around, lifting it up in a fluid motion. The ice itself followed the movement and rose into the air, transmuting into water as it did so. It flowed rapidly towards Hera, who directed it like a musical conductor, until it flowed down onto Rimfire's body. The water snaked itself up Rimfire's legs, dampening the sand as it wrapped itself around his body, creating a cooling layer to lower his temperature as much as possible. Hera lifted him up potato-sack style, hefting him over his shoulder with one hand while keeping the water wrapped around Rimfire's body with the other.

Hera turned to Raptor. "Which way to the base?"

Raptor blinked and pointed south. "We should be only a click or so away from it. But how are you going to get through that storm with Rimfire?"

"Like this!" Hera jumped up and flipped backwards, sweeping his legs up and around as he clung fast(1) to Rimfire. To Throttle and the others, it appeared as though it was the force of the flip that created the massive gust of wind that blasted a space through the storm. Vinnie opened up his mouth to comment on the impossibility of what he was seeing, but Hera had already shot off at a headlong run. The opening would only be there for so long, and he had to get through before it closed.

Raptor made to call after him, but Throttle pulled her back and said, "We can ask him later! Let's get moving now and get through that storm. Vinnie, pull out the big guns! Modo, you too! Raptor, Throttle, I'm taking control right now. No, just do it!" Raptor had once again opened her maw to comment, but snapped it shut at Throttle's persistence. "We don't have time to argue about it; we've got to get there as fast as we damn well can!" Throttle grabbed the Regenerator and strapped it to his bike quickly before signalling to everyone else. "Alright people, mount up! We've gotta move!" Everybody did so and at a signal from Throttle, Vinnie and Modo started blasting a path through the sandstorm. With Throttle in the middle and Raptor and the white-furred Throttle in the rear, they made their way through the sandstorm.

Twenty minutes later the group found themselves around an open Martian subterranean tunnel. Raptor stared at the remains of the cover not five feet away: it was sliced totally in half. She looked at Throttle. "Your blue friend?"

Throttle nodded. "Probably; I've only ever seen him use his tail once, and that was to slice the barrel off a gun I pointed at him. Clean cut, too; it was either that or his sword."

"What about the burn marks here?" Rimfire's Throttle asked, tapping a scorch on one of the metal half-doors.

"Dunno; maybe he tried to blast his way in?"

Raptor laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, real smart one he is. Carbine's probably got every gun in the base pointed at his head right now. I don't care how tough he is, there's no way he can fight off twenty blasters aimed at point-blank range."

Throttle shrugged. "Right now I don't care; we need to get in there and get to Rimfire. Where's the hangar?"

Raptor moved over to a rock jutting out at odd angles from the ground. She pushed the top of it inwards and a massive door started to open from a nearby cliff. Throttle let out a grunt of frustration. "Okay, why is it that easy to open our hangar door?"

"It's not," Raptor said, remounting her bike. "It has a palm-print scanner and DNA detector. Only Martian palm-prints can work, since even the Catatonian shapeshifters can't imitate our DNA, and no other creature has a palm-print quite like ours."

Her white companion revved his engine. "It's been like that for a while; codes can be deciphered, but DNA can't." Throttle gave his engine one final rev before driving into the base. Vinnie followed suit, followed by Raptor and Modo. Throttle glanced back at the sand dunes and cliffs before entering the base himself.

Most people would have been preoccupied with the surroundings and inner recesses of the base. Vinnie even gave a whistle of approval at all the shiny metal walls and, better yet, the armada of ships that was held within. Throttle and Modo, on the other hand, were a bit more pre-occupied with the fact that, true to Raptor's prediction, a score of Resistance fighters were surrounding Hera Ledro with their weapons trained on his head. Modo growled and moved forward to stand beside Hera, bowling the other mice this way and that. Throttle was no less subtle in his approach.

"What is going on here?" he yelled. Five of the fighters turned around and set their sights on him. Throttle fumed. "Put your weapons down," he ordered. When they didn't respond, he slit his eyes. "I said now, soldiers. Who gave you orders to hold this person prisoner?"

"I did," Carbine called. Throttle looked around for the voice, eventually looking up and seeing Carbine on a catwalk. She jumped down and landed right in front of Throttle. "What would you expect, Commander? He forced his way into our base."

Hera heaved in indignity. "You wouldn't open the door because of your damned protocols, even though I was trying to save one of your Commanders!"

Carbine stared frostily at him. "For all we know, you could have hurt him yourself. You had no alibis, and had an unconscious Rimfire slung over your back. What, pray tell, did you expect me to do? Just let you waltz into our base and give you the opportunity to open fire on us?"

Hera stared levelly back. "Obviously it would be more intelligent to secure the Commander's safety first, and then keep me in a cell or another secluded place for questioning. This, I would argue, is far from the diplomatic greeting that Stoker would have given a stranger."

Carbine's hackles rose as she shouted back. "Don't even go there; for all I know you're a cat spy sent to capture the Regenerator. And don't even mention that you were there during the communication between us when you were on Earth; you could have been a cat spy back then."

Throttle stood akimbo and glared at Carbine. "Well I'm acting as his alibi right now, Carbine. He's with us; he's NOT a cat spy. Know why? Because the Regenerator's right there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his bike, where the Regenerator was strapped. "If he was a cat spy, he would have used any of the opportunities between now and when I met him to steal Regenerator."

Carbine shifted her icy gaze to Throttle, her voice laced with venom. "Oh really? When would he have had the chance, if indeed you were all together?"

"Well," Hera interjected, "I could have stolen it from him when he was effectively broken and wrecked in the cave near the Grand Canyon."

Throttle nodded. "He could have left me to die out there, or at least left me as fish fodder. Instead he helped me and helped keep the Regenerator away from the fishes and the cats."

Vinnie snarked. "Huh, he's been cool. And come on sweetheart, even you don't think you could kick his ass and ours, do ya? We're the Biker Mice from Mars, the baddest mamma-jammas in the solar system. Remember last time you accused us of treason?"

Carbine considered this. She heaved a sigh and signalled the fighters to lower their weapons. "Back to your duties," she dismissed. To Hera and the other travellers, she said, "Follow me; I want a briefing of everything. Throttle, bring the Regenerator. Modo, you're at leave to visit Commander Rimfire, but I want you to join us in my office as soon as you're done." Solemnly, Modo walked towards the med bay, indicated by a flashing gentle flame. Throttle nodded and moved to unstrap the Regenerator; Hera glared fiercely at the mice who had only previously been threatening him with weapons. With the Regenerator in tow, the group followed Carbine to her office. For some reason, Throttle couldn't shake the feeling that today was going to get worse.

Carbine sat behind her desk, drumming her fingers against one another as she stared at Throttle, Vinnie, and Hera in turn. Raptor and Rimfire's Throttle had been given leave to attend to their commander. Carbine shut her eyes briefly and sighed. Leaning back in her chair, she said, "I apologise for seeming to be aggressively protective, but you must understand that we're reaching a climax in the war; tensions are higher than ever, and to counter that I have to show that I have everything under control." She looked at Hera apologetically, but puzzled at the same time. "What was your name again?"

Hera Ledro inclined his head slightly and replied, "Hera Ledro. And you are Carbine de Martes, niece of Stoker de Martes?"Carbine nodded and Hera continued. "I am sorry for the loss of your uncle; had I been able to prevent it, I would have."

Carbine's hard visage softened slightly. "Yes, his loss was great for Mars, but even greater for us, wasn't it, Throttle?" Throttle stiffened, but did not reply. "Stoker was a great mouse," Carbine sighed, sitting up straight. "But he wouldn't have wanted us to sit here and wallow in pity and self-loathing while there was work to be done. Brief me; what has been going on?"

Modo sat down and held onto Rimfire's hand with his flesh hand. He was seated beside the med-bed Rimfire lay in. A series of tubes were connected to him, injecting a non-toxic cooling fluid into his body to preserve a stable temperature. Dammit kid…don't you die on me now, he thought, squeezing Rimfire's hand. If it would help, I'd give my other arm…You're a tough kid, Rimfire; you can get through this. You didn't make it through the Plutarkian invasion just to get beaten by a stupid fever.

The curtains parted with a scraping of the fastenings, and a doctor came in. She placed a writing board on the foot of Rimfire's bed and looked at Modo. "You're Modo, right? Rimfire's uncle?"

"Yes ma'am," Modo replied, straightening and wiping his tears. He looked at Rimfire's still frame and looked back at the doctor. "Tell me ma'am…will he live?"

The doctor smiled. "My name is Dr. Renfield(2), but you can call me Tareece. And as for Rimfire, he'll be fine. He simply overheated from sheer exhaustion; it's a good job your friend got him here on time. If he'd been delayed another ten minutes or so, I don't think we could have helped him."

Modo cringed, thinking just how close to death Rimfire had come. "So he'll be fine, then?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, he'll be fine. He's your nephew; there's strong blood running through his veins. And you know what they say: 'The blood is the life'."

Modo cocked an eyeridge. "Huh?"

Tareece smiled and waved her hand. "It's an old Terran religious saying, but no less true because of it." A look of concern drew itself across her face as Modo bowed his head back down. "Don't worry; he'll be alright. As I understand it, Carbine wants you for debriefing."

Modo nodded and looked at Rimfire. Rimfire…I'll be back li'l bro. "Thank you, ma'am," Modo said, rising. "Please take good care of him; he's the only family I have left, besides my grey-furred momma."

Tareece held out her hand, which Modo took and shook. "Please, call me Tareece. And don't worry, he's in good hands."

Modo blushed. "Yes, Tareece, ma'am. I'll be going now. And thanks again." With a wave, Modo jogged out of the curtain-enclosed area.

Tareece sat down on the bed and brushed Rimfire's bangs out of his eyes. "You're a lucky one," she said wistfully, "to have such a caring uncle. I wish all families were so tight-knit."

Carbine paced up and down her office. She rubbed her temples and looked at Throttle. "So let me get this straight: you found the Regenerator, ran off with it, got captured by Plutarkians then escaped and were saved by Hera." Throttle nodded an affirmative. Carbine narrowed her eyes at him calculatingly. "And you said your eyes...they're fixed?"

Throttle nodded and removed his specs. "They're fixed alright. Wish it never happened, but it did, and now I can see better than ever. Karbunkle even put in some extra stuff that lets me see infrared and night vision."

"It makes sense," Carbine said, folding her arms. "After all, if they were intending to use a more powerful mind bender beam on you, they were obviously thinking that you'd work as a great spy. But you escaped before they could?"

Hera smiled smugly. "Yes, and he took the entire spaceship down with him too."

"Wish I'd been there to see that," Vinnie groused, folding his arms. "I would pay to see anybody shoot down a Plutarkian cruiser; I would pay to do it!"

"Yes, but you're getting paid to do it," Carbine snapped. "So stop complaining. Your story is no less strange: you, Modo, and Charley were chasing after Throttle, then Cataclysm comes out of the blue and kidnaps her?"

Vinnie's clenched his fists, but he kept his voice even. "That's right. And we're gonna get 'im for it, too."

Carbine turned to Hera. "That still leaves you; what's your story?"

"My story is my own," Hera said. "It is of no consequence, and Throttle and Vinnie have already given you an account of my doings since meeting Throttle. Before then I had no part to play in this story."

Carbine narrowed her eyes frostily. "Don't play innocent; your story is just as important as theirs. How do you know Stoker? Why do you care about the Regenerator?"

Hera chuckled; it was a deep, mirthless laugh that sent chills down Vinnie's spine. "Those aren't apparent? I know Stoker from before you were born, or else you'd know who I was, and I gave him a hand whenever possible while he was making a new Regenerator. As for why I care about the Regenerator, that's obvious: I want the Martians to win against the Catatonians."

"Why?" Carbine challenged. "What does our war mean to you?"

Hera was growing impatient with Carbine. She just doesn't know when to quit, does she? Well, I can't say as I'd act any differently; she is in the highest position of command here, after all, and she has a lot of responsibility. Not unkindly, he replied, "Isn't the fact that I helped build it reason enough?" Carbine's look was all the answer he needed. "Well, how about the fact that this is a war of conquest? If it was a war based on morality or religion or some such nonsense, I wouldn't be involved. But the Catatonians want to conquer Mars. Conquest, no matter the reason, is wrong; I will not abide by cruelty, especially with a probable genocide resulting.

Carbine snorted with derision. "Oh, you expect me to believe that, right? That's such a sap story; why should you care about the destruction of our race?"

"Suffice to say that my own race is also on the brink of extinction, and I will not stand by while the same thing happens to another race." Then, in an icy tone, he said "Other than that, you'll have nothing from me; you haven't shown yourself to be trustworthy."

Carbine's eyes widened. "Me? Untrustworthy? What about you? You won't even tell us about yourself, yet you know quite a bit about us."

"Throttle is trustworthy," Hera stated. "Vincent is trustworthy. Modo, Raptor, Rimfire, and his Throttle are trustworthy. You have not shown yourself to be trusting, and are therefore not trustworthy; you are judgemental, pessimistic, and possibly even prejudiced. They are not."

"There are dangerous enemies to be made here while keeping secrets such as yours," Carbine warned.

Hera did not buckle under her frosty gaze. "I'm a warrior, not a politician; my job is to defend, regardless of whether they trust me or not. You can help me, but you will not hinder me. I'm here to help Mars and save Charley, and if I have to go against you to do it, I will. But it won't come to that will it? Mars needs all the help it can get right now. You won't turn away someone like me just because you're not certain if you believe my origins." Hera stared intensely into Carbine's narrowed eyes. She's in no position to turn away any help, especially not from one such as me. She's seen something of what I can do, and to turn away that advantage would spell disaster for the Martians.

Out of the side of his mouth, Vinnie muttered to Throttle, "And you think I have a big ego; get a load of this guy! He's calling Carbine's bluff!" Throttle nodded, hoping to the gods that Hera's gambit didn't go awry.

Carbine narrowed her eyes again, glaring daggers at Hera. "Fine; keep your secrets. But while you're here, you operate under Martian law, understood? You are not our kind and we are not yours, but this is our war you're fighting in, so you'll do things our way, got it?"

Hera stared levelly back. "I'll do what's necessary. Right now that seems to be acceding to your command, but if your commanders order something as boneheaded as the storming of a fully-armed and stocked base, I will remove myself from your command and act as I see fit. Do you understood?" Carbine nodded back at him; he was right. She hated him for it, but he was right.

Carbine made her way back to her desk as a knock sounded on the door. "Enter," was all that was needed for Modo to enter and shut the door behind him. "Ah, Modo. Excellent timing, do you have anything to add to their stories?"

Modo blinked. "Stories, General? Oh, you mean their briefings? Probably not; Vinnie's told you all about how Charley was kidnapped?" Carbine nodded and Modo shrugged. "Then no, I don't think so. Woulda been here sooner, but I couldn't find the place."

Carbine waved her hand and leaned back in her chair. "Alright then, dismissed. Throttle, would you stay a while? I want to talk to you about something."

Vinnie humphed, but was shoved out the door by Modo. Hera followed suit, sending a mental Good luck to Throttle.

When the door was closed behind them and they were well out of earshot, Vinnie turned around and shot a middle finger at it. He yelped in pain and lurched face-first onto the floor as both Hera and Modo smacked him upside the head. Modo looked at Hera, amused. "You learn fast," he chuckled. Hera just shrugged.

"You didn't hafta do that you know," Vinnie muttered, picking himself up off the ground. "The bitch deserves it. Throttle should totally ditch her."

Hera frowned. "That seems rather unkind Vincent. I can understand disliking her, but there's no cause for wanting them to break up."

"Actually, I agree with chrome dome for once," Modo said, staring back at the door. "Throttle could do a lot better than Carbine." At Hera's suspicious look, Modo explained, "Those two have had a rocky relationship."

"How rocky?"

Vinnie snorted. "Imagine your spaceship bouncing and scraping through a mountain range. That's pretty much what their relationship is like, but Throttle's the one that's working his ass off to keep it going. It's a miracle he hasn't already crashed and burned. She leads him on like a little puppy, and he never learns."

Hera shifted his gaze back to the door. "So why hasn't he left her yet." Silence ruled for a few moments. When no answer was forthcoming, Hera turned and asked, "Guys?"

Modo shifted uncomfortably. "Well…it's a long story. Pretty much all Throttle's life, actually."

Hera's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "He's been dating her his whole life?"

"No," Modo said. "No, if that was the case, he'd've left her a long time ago. But the reason he's dating her is because of his life."

Vinnie hesitated. "Well…you see, Throttle's never really been trusted, and it all started when he was a kid."

"Throttle is the last known member of his clan," Modo clarified. "Used to be him 'n' Harley till Mace kidnapped her. Before that – heck, before Stoker took him in – he was always looked at as the black sheep of the clan. His parents were master burglars; smart and tough. Throttle's kinda taken after them like that; even as a kid he was a bit smarter than most. He was only eight when his parents were caught, and then everybody started to think that because he was smart like his parents, he'd turn out like 'em."

"They're kinda right," Vinnie ventured. "He's pretty damn crafty, but he was just a kid. Nobody would take him in, and the Martian government wouldn't find him foster parents. He spent a week roaming the streets of Brimstone before Stoker found him and took him in. Kid was half starved by then; it was a blow for him, too. His parents always had a lot of money because of their little 'side-jobs'. He went from living the good life to lookin' for scraps."

"Stoker took him in and raised him," Modo continued. "It was great, too, since Stoker had a niece that Throttle could play with. She was only a year and a bit older than him, too, so it worked out well. Carbine wasn't really a bully back then; that happened when she joined the Freedom Fighters. But when Stoker was caring for Throttle, the Plutarkians came out into the open and really started their invasion."

"Because the Freedom Fighters were originally an underground political group," Hera interjected. "I met Stoker when he joined them, so I know all about the history."

"Yeah, well it wasn't all glory," Vinnie said. He'd adopted a dark tone as he spoke. "See, Throttle's clan was a low-class clan, and the low classes got hit the hardest by the Plutarkian invasion. Outside of Harley and her family, Throttle became one of the last of his kind(3). He didn't really care much, since he considered Stoker's clan more his clan, but the laws back then forbade inter-clan marriages. You could adopt kids into a clan and change their clan name, but most of the time the children kept their clan name; most people believe that changing the clan name is a way of erasing the identity of the person.

"Stoker was there as much as he could be for Throttle, but that wasn't always easy. Sometimes he had to bring Throttle along to the missions and leave him in the base or something with the guards."

"Throttle was always a hard worker," Modo said. "While he was there he'd help out around the base doing whatever he could, and when the guards were on break he'd practice Martian chess or checkers with them. Throttle's strength has always been in tactics, and a lot of people underestimated him because he was a kid. Kicked the guards' cans a few times before they wised up and took him seriously."

Vinnie flexed his arm. "Yeah, but Throttle's never been as good-lookin' as this studly mouse."

Both Hera and Modo rolled their eyes, and Modo pushed Vinnie into the wall before continuing. "Anyways, Stoker had a little surprise when Throttle was ten or so. See, he thought he could leave Throttle home alone once he turned ten, so he did; up and left for a meeting and told Throttle to stick around home. Well, he got home and found Throttle in his office, drawing all over his hidden assault plans."

Vinnie laughed. "Man, Stoker lost it. Grabbed Throttle by his tail and tossed him into his room, told the kid he was grounded till he came back and killed 'im, then went to try and salvage what he could of his plans. But man was he surprised when he saw his plans. Throttle wasn't doodling, he was fixing. Stoker told us he'd been trying to figure out a way to successfully flank the Plutarkians, but had no idea how. Throttle was in there making changes, and he found a way to get a decent flanking manoeuvre in."

"Make 'em think the main force is there when it's really coming around from the back," Modo said. A smug grin was plastered on his face. "Fishheads are stupid; if there's more than twenty or so people around, they think it's the main force. Throttle used that to make up a distraction plan, then had the main force come around the back. Stoker was totally licked; he couldn't figure out how the hell some punk kid figured that out. So, he called Throttle back out to finish the changes, and when he did he totally blew Stoker away. Hidden weapons, using the terrain; man, Throttle had it all."

"He kicked Stoker's tail in chess later on, too," Vinnie interjected smugly. "Stoker said it was his proudest moment ever."

"Throttle made it in to the Freedom Fighters four years later, just a month or so after me," Modo added. "He begged and begged Stoker to let him join, since Stoker was the head of the Fighters then, but he was only fourteen, right? Everyone told Stoke he'd be nuts to let the kid join. Eventually, though, Throttle fought his way through. Made it, too; passed all the tests, beat all the physical exams, everything. Made it in at the record age of fourteen. Nobody's ever gotten in earlier than fifteen, even after that."

"Hey, I got in at fifteen," Vinnie huffed. "You're not even supposed to be thought of before sixteen."

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy for Throttle. A lot of people thought he got in only because he was Stoker's kid, and he had to fight a lot of the higher-ups. Even when they realized he was made of the right stuff, though, they started on him 'cause of his parents. Even the women wouldn't look at him right."

Hera leaned against the wall. "What do you mean? He's good looking enough and has the personality to attract just about any girl."

"Yeah, but they couldn't get past the fact that his parents were thieves. They called 'im a bad seed, said that they were too good for the likes of that thieving trash."

"Carbine was the only one who would give him the light of day," Vinnie said. "See, he pretty much grew up with her once Stoker took him in, right? When she started showing interest in him, he just flew into her arms."

"He wanted some love is all," Modo said. "But Carbine's never been that touchy-feely. Hell, she can be real cold when she wants to be. Whenever they fought, she would rub it in that she was the only one who would even look twice at Throttle. I don't know if she did know how much that digs him, but she probably did. It's been like that with them ever since, and Throttle always comes back."

Hera frowned. "I'm curious; how do you two know all this? Are you guys really that close?"

Modo laughed mirthlessly. "We'd take a shell for each other, but we know all this because we were there for most of it. And I, unlike Vinnie, can actually put two and two together."

"He is better at relationships than I am," Vinnie acceded. "We tried to talk Throttle out of the relationship for the first while, but you can't really blame him for sticking. He's been on his own his whole life, it's only natural to want someone there with you."

Hera opened his mouth to comment when Carbine's office erupted with the sounds of yelling. Modo, Vinnie, and Hera shared a look before rushing back to the office.

Throttle slammed his fist on Carbine's desk. "What do you mean unfaithful? When have I ever done anything for anyone except Mars? I've always worked my tail off for her!"

"You blackmailed me with the Regenerator!" she screamed back. "You put our entire planet at risk just for some Earther woman!"

Throttle's growled dangerously. "Don't you start laying blame on Charley; she got kidnapped because of me. It's my fault, so I'm going to fix it."

"Well it wouldn't've happened if you hadn't run off with your tail between your legs!"

"Don't go there Carbine; I've already justified what I did. And listen to you; you're accusing me of fucking all this up, but you sent an escort team that Vinnie could have beaten single-handedly. If that force we ran into had been even a big bigger, we –"

"But it wasn't, and it doesn't matter. What matters is that you put Mars at risk for a Terran woman."

"Holy gods Carbine, why is it so wrong for me to put my friend's life as a priority for once? When have I ever thought of anybody except you or Mars?"

Carbine was about to retaliate when the door jerked open. Without looking, Throttle turned on his heel and pushed past the intruders.

Vinnie and Modo stared after Throttle while Hera glared at Carbine. "Is there a problem in here?" he asked icily.

Carbine shook her head and sat down hard behind her desk. "Tactical meeting."

Vinnie, being last out of the room, slammed the door behind him and started after Throttle. Modo, however, grabbed him and held him back. "Hey, hold on there; no reason to start running off after him."

"No reason?" Vinnie snapped, walking forward. "Did you hear that? 'Tactical meeting' my tail. She's gone and had it out with him again." Hera and Modo made pace to keep up with him.

"The relationship did sound rather…unhealthy," Hera admitted, glaring at the door.

"Forget helping Throttle," Vinnie growled, "we should just beat the tar out of the 'good General'."

Modo looked back at the door with a glowing eye. "Yeah, we should. I don't know what in the name of Mars is going through her head, but she needs to check the attitude."

"Maybe you should go talk to Throttle, Modo." Hera's eyes met Modo's eye. "Give him some steam to work off; spar with him, do a guy talk, punch one another on the shoulder, just do something to get him to release all that anger. He looks like he's ready to blow his top."

"Yeah," Modo agreed, staring back down the hall. "Maybe I should…chrome dome here isn't much of a talker anyways."

Suddenly, Raptor sidled up from around a corner they'd passed, startling Vinnie by touching him on the shoulder. "Calm down, Vincent." She gave Hera and Modo a dark look. "Look, I heard everything. Maybe I should talk to him."

Modo raised an eyeridge. "You? Why would you talk to him? You barely even know him."

"True, but girls like us are much better talkers than lugs like you. Plus you won't stand a chance against a pissed off Throttle; he's liable to rip you to pieces in his mood. I, on the other hand, have a much better chance; I'm a woman and I'm smaller and faster than you, meaning I can dodge better."

Hera visibly weighed the choices. "She does have a point, really. I've learned two things about women: first is that they're much better talkers than men are. Second is that you –"

"Never wanna make one mad if they're holding a pan? OW!" Vinnie yelped as Hera hit him upside the head again.

"Is this going to become a regular habit?" Hera tutted.

Modo ignored the two as the verbal swordplay commenced. Instead he said to Raptor, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, ma'am. Just be careful; he doesn't usually lose his temper, but it's something scary when he does." Raptor nodded and took off after Throttle.

With a strained grunt, Throttle laid into the red hanging bag. God dammit, he thought. What the hell is wrong with that woman? What is so wrong about helping my friends? With a grunt, he stepped back and kicked straight into the bag, ripping the fabric and sending the contents spilling out. Throttle panted heavily, moving on to the next bag. Dammit…Charlene, I'm sorry. I'll get you back babe, I swear. Even Carbine won't stop me!

What is the deal with that anyways? Carbine knows Charley! And even if I am thinking about Charley-girl first, it's not like I've gone out of my way to sleep with her.

Well fuck it. Who's she to tell me who to prioritize? She's never had the friends to know what it means; always sticking herself behind her desk and her papers, or rushing out like Vinnie on the battlefield.

And since when haven't I been faithful to her? I spent years hoping to get back to her, leaving everyone else alone and shutting everyone out just so I could be with her. Then she slaps the word traitor on my forehead and sentences me to death. Even after we save all of Mars again, she still holds that fucking grudge because I decided to stay down on Earth with Charley and fight off Limburger.

But what if you really do like Charley? a voice asked in his head.

So what if I do; it's not like she's my girlfriend or mate or anything. I'll always love Charlene, but why does Carbine have to go and blow it up like that? Besides, it's not like I love her like a girlfriend. It took a moment for Throttle to process what he'd just thought, then he returned to his bag-pummelling with a renewed vigour.

Throttle was oblivious to everything except himself and his punching bag, so he did not notice when Raptor entered. She noticed him, but more importantly she noticed the series of bursted punching bags and the sizable mound of red sand beside them. Bracing herself, Raptor walked forward and tapped Throttle on the shoulder.

Throttle hadn't heard her. Out of instinct, he swung back, coming out of his reverie when he heard a yelp. When the red haze lifted from his vision, he saw Raptor crouched with her hands in a defensive position above her head. He blinked, suddenly thinking the worst. Gods…I hit a lady! "Gods, Raptor, I…I…"

Raptor rose up and poked his chest. "And just what the hell do you think you're doing? You almost clocked me in the face!" She let the admonishment sink in a moment before continuing. "I should think that you'd have better control over your emotions. It's Vinnie's job to go off the handle; it's my job to go off the handle. You, however, have no right to start PMSing like an Earth woman."

When Throttle finally found his voice, all he could do was apologize for nearly hitting her. Raptor simply slapped him lightly on the muzzle to shut him up. "Hey, I'm a big girl, I can handle myself. Not like those punching bags there."

Throttle stared down at his boots sheepishly, noting the shredded bags to the side. Taking advantage of Throttle's inclination to silence, Raptor pressed on. "Hey, why don't we talk? A good rap session will let out all the stress." When Throttle mumbled a negative, Raptor narrowed her eyes. She could push him. All that mattered was finding the right buttons. "So what, you're just going to let Carbine win?"

Silence. Raptor was becoming annoyed now; he was clamming up tighter than a Plutarkian purse. "Hmph, and here Rimfire was always talking about you guys. Said you three were the best, and you were the best leader ever." Poking him on the chest for emphasis, she berated him. "Are you telling me that all Rimfire's talk was just hype? That you're not the tough kick-ass leader he said you were? The General is pulling your tail out by its roots, and you're just taking it lying down!"

Unbeknownst to her, however, Throttle's blood was beginning to boil. Trying his damndest to keep the growl out of his voice, Throttle said, "Hey, Carbine and I got history. And I'm dealing the way I've always dealed, and it's always worked too. So with respect, Raptor, back off."

"I will do no such thing," she growled. "It's obviously not working if you guys are getting that pissed off at one another when you meet after being away from each other for years on end. Open your eyes, Shades; it's not working. Why don't you just deal with Carbine?"

"Because she's…Carbine." Throttle clamped his fists tightly, digging his nails into his palms. "Look, let's not go on about this now, okay? We'll have your little rap session after the war, not in it. We can't afford to have tensions like this, and this will only get me pissed off at you."

Stubborn as a cat, Raptor thought bitterly. "Fine, we'll have it later. But we will be having it, understood Shades?" Throttle nodded curtly. "Good. Now come on. We've gotta go find the guys."

Still coming down off his renewed rage, Throttle said, "They're probably in Modo's room. He's got one of those Earth PlayStation things, and Vinnie loves video games."

Raptor rolled her eyes. "Oh yay; let's hear it for video games. Stupid Terrans…"

The silence was awkward as Throttle and Raptor walked down the hall to Modo's room. Awkward for Throttle, anyways. "So why do you care?"

Raptor didn't look at him when she replied. "Care about what?"

"Me and Carbine. You've got nothing to do with my team beyond this last mission."

Raptor shrugged. "Hey, it makes your teammates upset, and it's never good when a team gets that pissed off over something. Besides, Vinnie doesn't look so cute when he's sad."

Throttle coughed at the same time he snickered, making Raptor give him a curious look. "Sorry, but I find it hard to believe that you think Vinnie's cute. You don't seem the type."

Raptor snorted. "Oh please, he's cute. Hell, he's gorgeous; every woman on Mars can see that. That doesn't mean I'm into him. More to a man than looks, you know."

"But he is cute?"

"He is."

The silence came again, though it was not so awkward. When they came to the door, Throttle made to knock. His knuckles came within an inch of the door when they heard a groan from inside, followed by a laugh of triumph. Raptor cocked an eyebrow and Throttle sniggered. "Probably Modo kicking somebody's ass on that game of his." Raptor rolled her eyes and opened the door.

"Man, what is taking those two so long?" Vinnie's voice whined through the entryway. "Raptor should've had Throttle back ages ago." When Throttle shut the door, Vinnie's voice came again. "Well it's about time! Get in here, you idiots; I've had to watch Modo kick my ass every game!"

Throttle laughed and walked into the Spartan living space. Positioned on the couch were Modo and Hera, both with a wireless game controller in their hands. Vinnie was glaring grumpily at Throttle from another couch beside the first. "So, you figure all your stuff out?"

Raptor leaned on the arm of the couch beside Modo and Throttle sat down on the same couch as Vincent. "Later, Vinnie; still working on it. So what's going on here?"

"Same as usual; Modo's been kicking my ass at this stupid SoulCalibur game, and now Hera says he wants to give it a go."

Raptor picked up the game case on the floor. "'SoulCalibur Three'? There's three of these things?"

Vinnie was about to answer when the screen flashed and Modo let out yet another victory cry. Hera groaned and lay back in the couch. "How the hell are you doing all those moves?"

Modo buffed his metal fingers on his armour and blew on them. "Talent, bro, pure talent."

"Button masher…" Hera groused.

"Now you know my pain," Vinnie affirmed.

1 – Yes, this is correct grammar. The terms "hold hard" and "hold fast" are quite literally the exact same thing and used in the exact same contexts.

2 – In order to mask their true clan names, Martians will often use a name found in human literature or media as a cover.

3 – OMG JON YOU'RE SUE-FUCKING THROTTLE! Yeah, well deal with it. By the end of it he may or may not be the last of his clan; I've yet to come to an absolute decision on that. Plot bunnies are wonderful, don't you think?

Author's Notes

Heehee, I love literary references =) See if you can catch the Dracula reference in here (and don't think of the movie, please D= ).

Yes, I'm aware the writing style is relatively different this time around (and also how disappointingly short this chapter is; I expected it to be a lot longer). I'm taking the advice of Stephen King and trying to cut all the goddamn adverbs out. I do find that they plague good writing, so I'm refining a new style of writing. I'm also aware of some blatantly chauvinist language in this chapter. Don't sue me please; the characters are absolutely flooded in testosterone. Can you really blame them?

On another note, I recently saw the 2006 version of Rimfire, and I must say…-HISSSSSSS- What did they do to him? He was always so great and…great, but now he's this twerpy little kid who sounds like he JUST hit puberty! And…and…-HISSSSS- SERIOUSLY! Why do they do that to characters D= He was NEVER that clumsy – he was in fact quite a competent kid – and he…he…GRAAAAAAGGHHH! THIS is what happens when you get idiot writers who don't do their research before they consider themselves arrogant enough to delve into the canon, only to EVENTUALLY WRECK IT AND EVERYTHING IN IT! RAAAAAAWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRR!

The sad part is that I'm not even a Rimfire fanboy; I can't imagine how they're feeling right now.

Okay. Enough of that. I'll just cry in my pillow tonight, since he was one of my favourite characters EVER. Though that being said, I might just have my first drink; I'll need it after this depressing stunt the writers decided to take. Bah humbuggery! –stomps off—

Hera: Erm…right. Well, since Jon's gone off, I'll do the rest of this AN.

Jake: Why can't I do it?

Hera: Shush. It's because you're not in the story. I am, so clam it.

Jake: Hmph. –stomps off after Jon—

Hera: Anyways…

Hera: We apologise for the rather late update. Jon has been quite busy, and for the longest time he was battling with whether or not it was right to use…gah…

Jake: -pokes head back in- Come on, say it!

Hera: Grrr…MAGIC! There, I said it!

Jake: Yes!

Hera: -huffs- Yes, Jon wasn't sure if it was right to put in magic in here. I would disagree with it as being magic, however; Jon has made up some rather interesting scientific explanations for the phenomena which you might view as being magical.

Jon: -comes back in- Oh shut up. It's magic, plain and simple. If you want to hear the explanations that HERA is so dead-set on making (he absolutely hates the idea of magic, you see), then you can contact me, and I will provide them to you. In any case, be sure that as I have invented the Allsies, I have consequently invented a biology for them based in rudimentary neural and musculo-skeletal system principles.

Jon: Oh yeah…read and review please =D I always enjoy reading constructive reviews (not just things that say "Update please" or the like; seriously, that is abhorrently unproductive and a waste of your time and mine), and I always reply to them. I especially love constructive criticism; I can't learn from my mistakes if you don't tell them to me, after all. Be warned, though: I have a very sadistic army of dust bunnies that will infest the computers of flamers, and thereby torch their computer through overheating! Hah! So flame and BURN IN FIRE!

Jon: That is all. Till next time, mes amis!