Chapter 10

The second the glass shattered on the ground outside, Throttle was out of bed. His eyes scanned the room for any intruders.

There were none.

He looked for Spectre. He wasn't in the room.

WHAT?!

Spectre wasn't in bed, or anywhere. Great.

By now, Modo was out of bed and got on the radio to Vinnie.

"Hey, Vinnie? You there bro?"

A few seconds later, a grumpy voice came over the speaker. "Yeah, what is it man?"

"Is Spectre with you?"

"Course not! He's with you...Sorry, Charley-girl! Are you o...Ow!"

"What's happening over there?" Modo asked.

"Uh, nothing...Ow!"

"Right, well, when you're finished, get over here quick. Spectre's missing."

"How quick? Can I try to set a new record?" Vinnie yelled excitedly.

"Whatever, Vinnie. Out." Modo signed off.

After setting down the radio, Modo's eye glowed red, angry that their new friend had been taken. Throttle came up to him.

"Easy, big fella. We'll get him back."

"I'm just mad. Mad that these stinking Plutarkians always have to steal and pillage everything that we care about. Our planet. Our families. Everything!" he yelled, before grabbing a steel girder, bending it around on itself and throwing it across the room.

"I know what your saying, bro," Throttle said in a calming voice. "It stinks, majorly. But we can't get angry now. Tell you what; try to think of a new way we can trash his tower. We're running out of ideas."

A flashing light and quiet beeping was heard in the corner of the room, and Modo went over to see Oblivion looking a bit sad.

"It's ok, little darlin'," he cooed. "We'll get him back. You can ride with us if you want. We might need you to get him out of there if he's hurt."

She brightened up a little bit, happy to be able to help.

At that moment, Vinnie roared into the scoreboard in a pairs of jeans. Slinging his bandoleers over his shoulders and shoving his boots on, the bros took off to Limburger tower.

*

"Ah, yes," Limburger gloated over the deformed mouse. "The High Chairman will be pleased. He will certainly take a bit more than your ears, young man," he taunted, albeit from a safe distance.

"High Chairman? Wait," Spectre said, taking in one whiff of the fat businessman. "You're Plutarkian!"

"Certainly, my young mouse. But you needn't worry about that. For you see, there is a very substantial reward who brings you to the High Chairman dead and an even bigger one if alive. No guessing which one I'm taking. And then, I will be able to buy myself off this planet and away from those ubiquitous Biker Mice, once and for all. Now," he said, addressing the goons holding Spectre. "Take him down the the lab so he can be held more securely."

The eight-man (and slightly injured) escort led Spectre to the elevator which directly took them to the lab. They were about to put him in one of the holding cells when a sly, wheezy voice addressed them.

"Put him on the table, I would like to view this little troublemaker."

After they had done their job, the nervous-looking henchmen took off out of the lab as quickly as they could without looking rude, before a white-clad, green-goggled, skinny man came out from behind a machine.

"And how are we today, M-2971?" Karbunkle asked.

Spectre took one look at him.

"YOU!" he screamed, but that was all he could say, for just at that moment, all he could see was black.

*

"Very good, my young Ninja. Well done," Limburger said, feeling very pleased with himself. "You shall be rewarded handsomely for your services, hmhmhmhm," he chuckled.

The Ninja stood impassively, hands behind his back, not actually understanding what the fat fish was saying.

"Well, we must make haste. His comrades-in-arms will be here soon. We shall need to transport to Plutark immediately. We..."

He was cut off by the thrum of motorcycle engines closing fast on the building, he looked out the window and saw four lights rocketing down the road, before they crossed the footpath and started riding up the side of the building. He jumped out the way as the four bikes crashed through the window.

"All right, Cheese-face. Where's the boy?" Throttle asked , his deathly voice able to scare corpses from their graves.

"Oh, must you always make such a violent entrance." Limburger ignored the question, brushing shards of glass from his suit. He discreetly made his way over to his desk.

Modo popped his arm cannon and blasted the floor in front of Limburger. "Where is he?" his eye glowing red.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. However, I will be sure to inform him of your imminent demise. Meet your personal escort to the shadow world, the Ninja," he arrogantly stated, before his desk whizzed on a platform to a lower level.

For a moment, neither party moved. They just stared at each other. One could almost hear a Western theme play, as if to represent a showdown at midday. Then, quick as a flash, the Ninja threw a smoke bomb on the ground and disappeared from view.

"Hey! I can't see a thing!" Vinnie yelled.

"Hit your infra-red, bros!" Throttle called, activating it on his helmet.

"Oh mama, now I can't tell where to put my best foot forward," Modo mumbled.

"Let's dance!" Throttle called.

The guys advanced to where the Ninja was standing, but even with their infra-red, they couldn't even detect a trace of him. Suddenly, the smoke started to quickly swirl, as if someone was rushing through it, and came straight for Vinnie.

He quickly ducked, but was too slow – a blade of sorts scraped along the back of his helmet. Reaching behind his head and feeling the deep gash in the metal, he cursed in Martian and kept looking.

*

Charley parked her bike in the bay that was signed "Reserved – L. Limburger: CEO" in the carpark and dashed through the front door. Walking past the reception desk and into the lobby, she heard some sort of animal's feral scream and the rattling of chains a couple of floors above. Charley vowed one day to undertake similar experiments on Karbunkle in his own lab, but for now she gracefully made her way up the stairs, careful not too attract any attention from any goons who may still be around.

*

The bros were still in Limburgers office, and after totaling anything resembling furniture which the Ninja might be hiding under, they didn't know what else to do. Then Vinnie had a brainwave.

"Bros, lights out!" he called.

Several shots later, all the lights in the room were blown to bits. It was pitch black.

"Now, get the bikes outta here!"

"What?" Throttle asked incredulously.

"Bro, you can't be serious!" Modo protested.

"Off! Bikes, get to the roof!" he called.

All the bikes, including Oblivion, flew out the window they had smashed earlier and skilfully navigated themselves to the top of the tower.

Now, in complete darkness with their infra-red vision, the Mice tried a different tactic. If they saw the smoke from the bomb shift quickly, they would strike before the Ninja could.

It worked on the first try.

In another attempt to try and take Vinnie's head as a trophy, Modo had shot the rope it was using as a swing, and Throttle used his nuke knucks to knock him straight out of the window and into the fountain in the front courtyard.

"Guess you're all washed up," sniggered Vinnie, looking down from the office.

"His skills must be getting soggy!" crowed Modo.

"Looks like he's gonna be in the dog house for a while, bros," Throttle chuckled.

Summoning the bikes back to the room, they raced down to Karbunkle's lab.