I do not own Biker Mice from Mars, or any of the characters.
I am not making a profit from writing this story.
This is merely a fan-work
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Planet: Earth
Location: Chicago, Illinois
Year: 1995 (by Earth reckoning)
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The natural cave system was marred by the very UNnatural machine that stood in the center of the cavern. Formed by a series of cones, this machine was attached to the floor of the cavern by three bolts linking it to the machine, while various other cables and steel links kept it stable. This machine was called a Tug-Transporter, a device created by the alien race known as the Plutarkians.
These fish-like beings, native to the planet Plutark, were known throughout the galaxy as corrupt planet killers. Being the wasteful, portentous race they were, they had used up their own planets natural resources, and thus resorted to using their wealth and their underhanded tactics to steal the resources from other planets. Often, these planets were strip-mined to their very core, and when they had nothing left to give, the Plutarkians would plant a Tug-Transporter, and the planet would be dragged across the galaxy to become one of Plutarks new moons, a sick form of keeping trophies that the Plutarkians had adopted.
Many planets had fallen to the Plutarkian reign, but the last two were proven to be a bit more than the Plutarkians could handle. Located in the galaxy known as the Milky Way, these two sister planets, known as Mars and Earth, had managed to resist the Plutarkian occupation of their planets for years, though neither without their loses.
On Mars, the Cave Mice population was hit the hardest by the take-over, with their own government willingly selling huge amounts of land to the Plutarkians. Many corrupt government officials were swayed by Plutarkian Gold Gills to draw the Martian Military's eyes away from their activities, leading to many of the cities being destroyed in Plutark's thirst for resources. Finally, a small resistance known as the Freedom Fighters was formed, and started to fight back against the Plutarkians. The other two races of Mars, the Rats and the Sand Raiders, cajouled by Plutark's promise of wealth aided the Plutarkians in their pursuit of the destruction of the Cave Mice.
Meanwhile, the Plutarkian occupation on Earth was proceeding slowly. The native Humans were far less knowledgeable about the world beyond their galaxy, even their Planet, that the Plutarkians decided that discretion was their best course of action. Several high-ranking Plutarkians were sent to Earth in covert operations to the continent of America, where they infiltrated major cities under the guise of being 'honest businessmen' and began the tenuous task of strip-mining the Planet. One of these Plutarkians, however, had faced setback after setback for the last three years in his attempt at occupying his designated city, Chicago.
His name was Lawrence Lactavius Limburger. Wearing a mask to hide his Plutarkian features, he had been posing as a human industrialist for the past 3 and a half years, though his purple suit would often raise eyebrows as it seemed to belong in the 1920's rather than the 1990's. Along with his lackeys, a very oily individual known as Greasepit and a mad scientist known as Dr Karbunkle, Limburger had cooked up scheme after scheme trying to strip-mine Chicago to dust. But he was faced by one, no, three…furry problems.
For you see, three years ago, a spacecraft known as a Cycledrone Thunderpipe, used by the Cave Mice population on Mars, was shot down during its journey. It crash-landed on Earth, landing directly in the Wrigley Field scoreboard of Chicago. And from it emerged the bane of Limburger's existence.
The Biker Mice from Mars. These three mice had been part of the resistance on Mars, and had unknowingly followed the Plutarkians to Earth to continue the battle.
Throttle, the tan-furred level-headed leader of the group, wore a black sleeveless studded vest, blue biker jeans and black boots along with a brown belt and holster which held his laser pistol, and a green utility belt around his waist. He wore a red ascot around his neck as well as around his right wrist, while his left wrist had a studded leather band. On his right hand, he wore what he called Nuke-Knucks, a device that amplified his punches. He also had a tattoo on his right shoulder of the Martian Freedom Fighter symbol, consisting of a martian mouse face with wings on either side. His left ear held two silver earrings, one stud and one hooped earring that had a morning-star ornament attached. His eyes had been damaged during the fighting on Mars, so he always wore field-specs, which helped him to amplify his eyesight. His motorcycle, which he affectionately called Lady, was a beautiful black Scrambler.
Modo, the large grey-furred muscle of the group (though by far the sweetest), wore blue biker jeans with a red belt and black and purple boots. On his chest he wore a blue, purple and red chest-plate, along with purple shoulder-pads. On his left hand he wore a purple fingerless glove and a black studded leather band similar to Throttles. His left ear held two silver hoop earrings, while his right had a small nick in it. He wore an eyepatch over left eye, and when he was furious, his right eye glowed a sinister red. His right arm was an entirely different story. Modo had lost his right arm fighting on Mars, and during an unfortunate run in with one Dr Karbunkle, it had been replaced. From the shoulder down, it was made entirely from metal, with the fore-arm part able to open to reveal a laser gun. His motorcycle, known as Lil'Hoss, was a gorgeous blue Chopper.
Finally, Vincent (or Vinnie as his bros affectionately called him), the white-furred, loud and rambunctious motor-mouth, wore blue biker jeans with a yellow belt and black boots. He wore black fingerless gloves on each hand, and across his chest he wore two green utility belts that carried his flares, along with a dark pink bandana. His left ear held two silver studs. The right side of Vinnie's face had been damaged during the fighting on Mars, so he wore a silver mask to cover it. His motorcycle, known as Sweetheart, was a stunning red Sports model.
Charlene Davidson, or Charley as the bros called her, completed the group of heroes. Often sporting a blue mechanic shirt, dark jeans and brown cowboy boots, as well as a green utility belt, the red-haired green-eyed mechanic had become a fast friend of the bros since the day they landed, and together they had done everything they could to stop Limburger's plans of destroying the city. Which brings us to our current situation.
"Observe, my stagnating Stilton, how the Tug-Transporter performs in... competent fins." Limburger announced smugly while gesturing to the abnormally large machine behind him, with Karbunkle standing behind him. Before him, on the large screen, stood the images of two Plutarkians. To his left, was Dominic T. Stilton, Limburger's former employer during his time on Mars, and currently one of the high-ranking Plutarkians still fighting against the resistance on Mars. To his right, was the Plutarkian High-Chairman, Lord Camembert.
"We'll see." Stilton responded to Limburger's smug tone, crossing his arms over his chest. Camembert glanced to his right as if watching Stilton's reaction from his side of the screen, when suddenly, the loud rumble of motorcycles drew everyone's attention to the back of the cavern.
"WHAT?" Limburger cried before three motorcycles revved over the edge of the cliff, firing missiles at Limburger and his goons as they soared through the air. They landed with practiced ease, and immediately headed towards the Tug-Transporter, knocking Limburger over as they went. Each mouse headed for one of the three anchor bolts, with Vincent taking the time to quickly drop Charley off at the control panel. They each shot a tow line that wrapped itself around the bolt, then revved their engines and drove off, making the bolts come undone. As an extra measure, Charley grabbed a rock and smashed the control panel, before the mice grabbed her again and drove off.
Karbunkle and Limburger gasped as the Tug-Transporter began to rumble, smoke billowing out from the boosters before flames spouted and it took off, breaking through the roof of the cavern, leaving the planet behind, much to Limburger's dismay.
"Those Anchor bolts really are a serious design flaw." Karbunkle said sheepishly as Limburger face-palmed. He turned back to the screen as Stilton started laughing, while Camembert was simply enraged by this, yet another of Limburger's failures.
"You doleful dimwit! Destroy that Transporter before it reaches Plutark!" he ordered. Limburger scrambled for the remote and pressed the self-destruct button, which caused the lower half of the Transporter to break off and fall back down to Earth, right into Limburger Plaza, destroying it for the umpteenth time in the past three years. Limburger was unaware of this though, still listening to the rant that Camembert was giving him while Stilton carried on laughing.
"…until you squeal like a seal!" he approached the screen pointing a finger at Limburger. "And then…" he was cut off by a telephone ringing. He quickly answered it.
"What? A Tug-Transporter? Spotted where?" his tone grew increasingly concerned as he spoke, When suddenly the screen was marred by static. "LIMBUR…!" was the last thing he could shout before the line went dead, leaving Stilton's line open to reveal him still laughing before the rocks from the cavern collapse destroyed the screen. Limburger smirked.
"Better him than me, eh Doc…" Limburger gasped as he looked around. His mad-scientist was nowhere to be seen. He did not have much time to contemplate that before the rest of the ceiling began to collapse and he made a run for it.
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Above them the mice were watching the destruction from a safe distance, smiling at Limburger's cursed luck.
"Just like old times, hey bros?" Throttle asked cheerfully as he glanced at his companions.
"Yeah, some habits are too tough to break." Modo answered with a nod of his head. Vinnie shrugged, looking back at his female passenger.
"Even if we wanted to, right Harley?" He froze, his expression becoming one of heartache for a split second before reverting to a worried one. "Oops…I'm sorry sweetheart." He whispered as he shook his head. The Earther woman behind him shook her head.
"I don't mind, Vinnie. Nicest compliment you've ever given me." she placed her hand on his shoulder and lifted herself up a bit to place a kiss on his cheek. Vinnie blushed, but smiled none the less. Throttle chuckled as he revved his engine.
"Say it like you mean it, Fighters. Let's Rock…" Their customary victory shout was marred by a sickly inhale.
"And say Goodbye to your female companion!" Karbunkle shouted before firing what looked to be a ray gun at Charley. The blue ray hit her straight in the back creating a bright white light the temporarily blinded the mice on impact. When it faded, the mice were horrified to see that Charley was gone.
"CHARLEY!" Vinnie screamed as Modo fired at the ray gun with his arm, blasting it to smithereens while Throttle grabbed Karbunkle by the collar of his lab attire, holding his Nuke-Knuck aloft.
"Where is she, you sick bastard?" He growled out in a low tone. Karbunkle began to laugh with glee.
"That was a temporal displacement ray! It sends objects through time and space, completely at random! I'm afraid your little mechanic friend is lost to you….Forever!" He ended his explanation with a maniacal cackle, as the three bros watched him in horror before Throttle snapped out of it and knocked him out with one punch. He heard a thud behind him and turned to see Vinnie slumped on the ground, pounding the dust with his fists, tears in his eyes.
"No, no, no, no!" Modo dropped to his knees next to his younger bro, gathering him in his arms and holding him tight as he began to struggle. Throttle joined them, wrapping his arms around them both and tears sprang to his eyes. Soon, all three of them were crying, and Vinnie let out one last heartbroken scream that echoed over Chicago.
"CHARLEY!"
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Planet: Mars
Location: Argaia Basin
Year: 1985 (by Earth Reckoning)
Stoker growled as he watched from a distance as the Plutarkians began to pack up their machinery. In his 32 years of living, he never thought he would see a sight like this. The Argaia basin was completely strip-mined. Not one part of the natural beauty remained. He sighed, shaking his head before heading back to his bike and revving the engine. He and his newly formed Freedom Fighters had a lot of work cut out for them, especially considering that his contacts in the army wanted nothing to do with him. Those blind idiots couldn't see how the corrupt government were stuffing their pockets with Gold Gills, leaving the rest of the planet in the lurch.
"Yeah, well, we'll see about…huh?" He trailed off when a flash of light caught his attention, about 65 feet to his right behind a small hill. His brow furrowed when he spotted a Sand Raider vehicle headed towards it. Mind made up, he drove towards it.
Leaving his bike behind out of earshot, Stoker approached stealthily, keeping low until he was just a foot away from the Sand Raider vehicle. The two dogs had left it behind when they head towards the hill
"How do ye think she got 'ere?" The one said, the sound of a boot scuffing against something making Stoker's ear twitch. He took the chance to glance over the hood of the vehicle. The two dogs were inspecting something that was lying on the ground. From his vantage point, Stoker could make out a pair of brown boots that were attached to a seemly pair of legs wrapped in jean fabric. The one Sand Raider blocked his view of the torso area and the head.
"Argh, what does it matter? I'm sure she'll bring in a pretty price with the Plutarkians." Stoker saw red. Those low-down slavers! Well, he wasn't about to let them get away with selling innocents to the Plutarkians. Grabbing his laser pistol, he slowly approached the two until he was right behind them.
"Sorry fellas, but I'm afraid there ain't gonna be a deal today." He said as he brought the butt of the gun down on the one's head, while wrapping his tail around the others legs, pulling them out from under him. And a well-placed kick later, they were both unconscious. He quickly dragged them both back to the vehicle, tying them up for good measure, before turning back to the being that lay on the ground. Now that his view was no longer obscured, he could see the shapely torso that was covered by what appeared to be a blue mechanic shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to just below the elbow. What made him pause was that the arm and hand that he could see, appeared to be furless.
"What the…" He slowly approached her, cause it was most definitely female, and inspected the head. It was covered with a helmet, but the shape of it was too small and flat for it to be covering a Martian face. Gently undoing the strap, he pulled the helmet off to reveal long auburn locks, against pale skin that was devoid of fur. Stoker's jaw dropped as he gazed down at what he assumed was an Earther female. Though, if those old movies that they sometimes managed to get were to be believed, she was quite attractive… by Earth standards at least.
That made him think. What was an Earther doing on Mars? Had the Plutarkians kidnapped her? And if so, how did she escape? A small groan drew himself from his thoughts, and he watched as her eyelids flickered for a brief moment revealing emerald green eyes for only a second before they fell shut again. Stoker shook his head. Those questions could be answered later. Right now, he had to get her back to base. There was no telling how long she had been out here for, and without the Martian fur to keep her warm during the night, or any supervisions of any kind… He'd rather not think about it.
"Hang on sweetheart." He whispered as he put his arms under her knees and her back, bracing himself before lifting her into his arms. Her head lolled before laying to rest against his shoulder, her arms limp in her lap. He glanced back towards his bike. Not the most practical mode of travel if you have an unconscious passenger. He turned towards the Sand Raider vehicle. "Well, better than nothing." He walked towards it, placing the woman gently in the passenger seat, before turning and whistling for his bike. As soon as it stood still next to him, he reached for the communicator.
"Stoker to Headquarters. Come in HQ." He said, waiting for only two seconds before a familiar white furred face greeted him.
"Hey Stoke! I thought you were gonna be back at base in less than 10 minutes! You get lost or something?" Stoker rolled his eyes. At 18, Vinnie was among the youngest of the Freedom Fighter recruits, but darn it if the kid was gonna sit and be idle while his older bros were out fighting.
"Can it mudpuppy. Listen I need you to alert the Harley and the other medics. I'm bringing in a…civilian casualty." Vinnie frowned before a tan face with specs joined him.
"Civilian Casualty? Why would anyone be out at the Argaia Basin?" Throttle, at 20, was far more level-headed than his white furred bro, and though he was still a rookie, Stoker could see the kid would shape up to be a great leader. Hell, he might even lead the Freedom Fighters one day.
"It's a bit complicated to explain over the comms kid. I'll tell you what I know once I get back." A grey face leaned into the screen.
"We'll be here waiting for ya coach." Modo, at 22, was nearly a head taller than Stoker, but the kid was as gentle as a Martian squirrel-bat. It hurt to see the kid having to fight for his life every day, but dang could he fight.
"Thanks Modo, my mouse. Stoker out!" He switched the comm off before lifting the bike onto the back of the vehicle, getting in the driver's seat and driving off through the red sands.
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Uh...Hey readers! Yeah, I've been gone for a while. Life has been really busy. Of course, now, being stuck in isolation and all, well, yeah. For those of you that are waiting on Updates for The Trails of the Heart and The Swan Princess 4: The Last Airbender, I promise to try and carry on with them, but at this point, I've hit writer's block with both of them, hence why this story now exists. Never the less, I hope you guys enjoy this story. Please Review!
