Before you read this chapter! Apparently, the site was acting up again when I posted last month, so for those that missed it, please check out chapter 42 first before reading this one.

Breathing hurt, a lot. The sharp pains in his ribs indicated that breathing would indeed be a problem, but why? He remembered falling. He was on his bike, and he was falling and falling some more… with Modo! Modo had been falling too, down a big black hole. He remembered think Charley was going to kill him. A splash of ice water to the face abruptly brought Throttle back to consciousness. His ears picked up on the muttering around him. He shook his head trying to get the water out of his eyes. The first thing he noticed was Modo lying next to him, also grumbling at the rude awakening.

A shadow fell over them.

"So… it can talk too."

They looked up at the imposing figure. A receding hairline revealed what looked like staples in his forehead, giving him a look similar to the monster from the movie Charley had shown them recently. Frakenstein! Not a great look. Dressed in a worn red football shirt and a black cloak with metal shoulder spikes, he was holding what looked and sounded like an electric whip. Definitely the top god of this down and out pit. Not to mention a 10 plus on the ugly meter.

"7 foot talking mice on motorcycles." His face pulled into a sneer. Throttle realized with a start his and Modo's helmets were missing, revealing their Martian features to the thugs of the Pits. Great! Just great! The man continued to drawl. "Man, they'll let anybody into these pits these days, won't they?"

Throttle made the mistake of trying to sit up, which was slightly tricky as his arms were bound together There was a slim chance this blond gorilla with a whip was reasonable? But instead, he was met with a foot to the face, slamming him back down on the ground. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder and down his spine. He bit back a cry.

Oh yeah… that's dislocated.

He had to grit his teeth while descending through the pain-fog, but tuned back in just in time to hear the giant thug talking about how fairness wasn't a thing down in the pits.

"What do you want from us, Pit Breath?" He kept his voice steady. It was pretty obvious showing weakness here could spell disaster for them.

The Thug just laughed.

"Pit Breath? Ha! It's simple, Pancake-ears. I hear your bikes are pretty hot. Just what my pit crew needs. But the bikes seem to have a problem… cooperating." he turned his head. Throttle had to lift his to see over Modo. Lady and Lil'Hoss were pretty much holding their own as four thugs surrounded them, pulling spinning wheelies as they tried to mount them.

Good girl, Lady.

"So here's the deal…" The thug turned back to them. "You get those bikes to work for me and…maybe, just maybe, I'll let you go."

Surrender their bikes to something that looked like a cross between Frakenstein's monster and a buffalo in a blond wig? It took a grand total of 2 seconds for Throttle to give his answer.

"No deal. No one rides my bike but me."

"Especially not some porked out, pompous, pit bait like you!" Modo added heatedly. The thug reached down and pulled Modo up by the bindings like he was nothing but a rag doll. It seemed a 7-foot mouse was no trouble for him. Throttle had to hand it to him, the man was as solid as a rock.

"Oh, big talk, fuzz-face…" He lifted the whip next to Modo's face and activated it, the electricity buzzing loudly. "…but a bigger mistake. You just bought slave labor, for life. But don't worry, that won't be long."

He drops Modo, cracking the whip between their ears. They flinch away from the snap.

"Get these freaks down to the quarry!" He ordered. Several thugs move forward pulling them roughly to their feet, Throttle bit back a groan as they jostle his growing list of injuries. But Throttle knew what was good for him and said nothing. As they were lead down to an even deeper part of the pits, they spotted several more prisoners working on what looked like a gaudy castle hewn from the rock. Here they are finally unbound but stripped of their weapons and shirts. Their arms were shackled together before they were given picks, which Throttle struggled to grab with one hand. As soon as the thugs disappeared, leaving them to their assigned duties, Throttle finally tapped Modo on the shoulder.

"Bro, I think I need a little help here." He muttered, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Modo glanced down, finally noticing his bro's shoulder suddenly had a square shape to it. He winced.

"Oh momma." He glanced around him before silently placing his pick on the ground. Taking Throttle's limp left arm by the wrist, he placed his free hand against Throttle's shoulder, pulling on his arm while simultaneously pushing against his shoulder. Throttle grit his teeth feeling the throbbing pull on his muscles. Suddenly, Modo gave his arm a yank and they heard a dull pop, and another sharp pain echoed through his side. Throttle doubled over and nearly vomited. Only Modo's solid frame kept him from keeling over. Gods! It was hard to breath down here! "Easy, easy, easy. Easy bro."

Throttle took a couple of well-deserved shaky breathes before regaining his bearings and straightening himself out again. "Thanks bro."

"Throttle, you shouldn't swing a pick with that arm." Modo muttered seriously.

Throttle chuckled humorlessly. "Not like I have a choice here, bro."

"Get to work!" They glance up. The ugly thug from before had graced them with his presence, mounting himself on a ledge just above them, whip in hand. How cliché. Modo grabbed their picks and handed one to Throttle.

"At least try not to actually strike the rocks. It'll jostle your shoulder too much, I'll handle it." Throttle gave a grateful nod to his bro before finding their spot. They both swung down, Throttle gritting his teeth as they movement pulled at his shoulder, even without the impact of the pick against the rock. "You think Vinnie and Charley have noticed we're gone?"

"Depends on how long we were out for, but probably." Throttle gave a quick glance to the sky far above them. "I hope they're ok."

Charley backed the crane to the very edge of the pits, pulling up the handbrake up and hopping out of the front seat, not even bothering to shut the door. She flicked on the switches and started moving the crane into place to attach the chain to Sweetheart, who was waiting patiently.

This was really not how the evening was supposed to go. After Vinnie had given her the bad news, they had raced back out on the streets with Sweetheart. Finding the trail of destruction the bros had left behind wasn't difficult, even in the moonlight light. When that trail had lead them to the very edge of the pits however, Charley's heart dropped into her stomach. If they had survived that fall, they were trapped in the Pits. Vinnie had seemed way too eager to get down there, but at this point, they had little choice. If Throttle and Modo had a chance, Vinnie was it.

A scuffle of a foot behind her made her freeze, and in a split second her training kicked in. She grabbed the arm that was outstretched towards her, shifted her weight and flung the assailant over her shoulder. It was only when he let out a grunt as he hit the ground that she realized who it was.

"Wooah. Great use of technique there, Charley-girl!" Vinnie wheezed as he pulled the bandana down. "Glad to see you're paying attention." She took in his appearance. He had changed into a torn tan shirt that hid his furry arms, a red tunic over that held in place by a studded leather belt, he had acquired a black wig from somewhere, which hid his ears, and the ensemble was completed with a bandana to cover his face and a brown hat.

"You scare me like that again, and I'll stuff that hat into your ears!" She snapped, pulling him back onto his feet. He dusted himself off with a smirk.

"Can't be done, lady." He bent forward and knocked on the top of the 'hat', which sounded oddly metallic. "Solid shell underneath. This hat's a bike helmet in disguise."

"That's unusually intelligent of you." She stated with a smirk. Vinnie shrugged as he turned to take in his appearance in the mirrors.

"Harley would have my head if she heard I was taking unnecessary risks. And I'll admit, I take those too often. Plus, I want to stay pretty for her." Charley grabbed the cable and yanked it down to Sweetheart.

"Glad to hear you know you're not exactly a model of restraint. Now remember, it's gonna be dangerous down there. So keep your head down, stay out of sight. Just find Throttle and Modo and bring them back here." She attached the hook to Sweetheart, locking it and moving back to lift her over the maw of the pits. "No fuss, no trouble. Got that?"

Vinnie suddenly grabbed her hand, holding it close to his chest. "Breathe, Charlene. It'll be okay. I'll go in, find my bros, and bring them back safely." He spoke gently, and Charley smiled softly. Vinnie let go of her hand and gave her a quick salute, before racing over to the edge and leaping onto Sweetheart, giving her a final wave as he slid below the edge.

"Watch yourself Vinnie." She whispered to herself.

They had been going for hours, and Throttle had had to stop to catch his breath several times, blinking away the blank spots in his vision. His body was definitely threatening to blackout. His side was throbbing constantly. At a guess, he had to have busted some ribs when they had crash-landed. It was happening again. His arms dropped, breathing suddenly heavy, he swayed. Modo stopped what he was doing just in time to catch him one handed.

"Bro, talk to me, you good?" Throttle shook his head to get rid of the fuzziness and turned to his bro. Before he could answer, there was another crack of the whip over their heads. Modo jumped back.

"Shut up! No talk, just dig! I want my castle completed before the rainy season starts!" The Pit Boss, as they had come to find out he was called, shouted at them. Fitting name. Throttle gave Modo a weak nod for them to continue working, at least until an opportunity presented itself for an escape. A heavy breathing not his own caught their ears.

"…too hard. Can't…go on…" The two turned to see another man, much smaller than them, working close by, slump to the ground over his pick. Throttle and Modo paused.

"Hey…you…you alright citizen?" he murmured. Modo set his pick aside, reaching for the man's shoulder.

"He's one hurtin' hombre."

"Get up!" Modo pulled back as the whip snapped again, breaking the two apart and striking the smaller man on his shoulder. He cried out. This time, Modo did not hide a growl as he took a defensive position over the weaker human.

"Get up and work!" The Pit Boss jumped, landing on their level. "You, back to work, you sewer rats!"

Oh, that did it.

"Rat?" Modo snarled, his eye glowing bright red as he tossed his pick aside. "Now you're talking trash." Modo lunged himself at the Pit Boss. He swung his arm back before snapping his whip, striking the big grey target. Modo had had enough and caught it barehanded before it could strike him, not at all forgetting that the damn thing could still shock him. As the burning sensation worked its way up his arm, through his body, his Bro couldn't supress his scream. But Throttle knew that this would only fuel his bro's rage. Modo yanked the man hard, deliberately forcing him to stumble into Throttle's path. The tanned mouse took the opportunity to aim for the big man's abnormally large nose. But the satisfying blow cost him. His vision blurred as a sharp pain spiked up his bad arm and finished with a stab in his ribcage. It knocked the wind out of him. He swayed hard, Modo catching him in time before the move sent him keeling over once more. "I got you, bro."

It was only at this point Throttle realized how serious his injuries might be.

Oh well, not the time to cry about it now.

"Nggh… I'm ok." He shakes his head again. "But enough of work, I think it's time for a break."

"Not to mention a bash." Unfortunately, they were almost immediately surrounded.

"Looks like you had some labor problems, Pit Boss. How'd you like me to…" One of the thugs blasted at them with a flamethrower, the heat making them flinch. "…fire them?" But Pit Boss instead grabbed the weapon, pushing it down.

"No…I've got more entertaining plans for these two."

The 'entertaining plans' turned out to be placing them in the arena, fighting to the death with giant robots. At least they had gotten their shirts and gloves back. Not that Throttle could actually fight to his usual abilities. His shoulder was throbbing, and every breath hurt his ribs. Much like his head currently was with Modo's caterwauling.

"I'm stuck in Pit Boss' prison, and time keeps draggin' ooooooooooooooonnn…."

"I don't know which is worse, this place or his singing." Their new friend, Manuelo, muttered. Throttle turned to him.

"That's easy, amigo, it's the singing!" He raised his voice a little at the end, causing Modo to choke on the next verse and smile sheepishly.

"How long you been down here, Manuelo?" Modo asked, patting the man on the back, a little too hard as he barely managed to stay seated. Manuelo slumped and placed his head in his hands.

"Two years, I think."

"Two years?" They both gasped.

"I was just a store clerk. I was saving money to open my own place… but the store I was working at was robbed. And I was taken hostage by this Pit Crew. I thought it was bad enough, but now? Now I lose my head too." He sighed, resigned to his fate. Throttle shared a look with Modo. They hadn't failed to notice the gold band on his finger. He was married.

He had a family.

And he had been down here, presumed missing or worse, for two years. Well this wouldn't do.

"Manuelo, my friend, don't be givin' up now." Modo implored.

"Yeah, we'll need your help for when we bash the tar out of these walking blenders here."

An extra set of hands would be really useful, right now.

Manuelo seemed to perk up for a moment, but his face dropped again almost instantly.

"It's no use. No man has ever beaten the mechanical gladiators."

"We ain't men, we're MICE!" Modo stated firmly, patting Manuelo on the back again as he stood up. Throttle stood up as well, leaving his left arm limp to avoid more pain.

"Biker Mice!"

"From Mars!"

"We're getting outta here…"

"And we're taking you with us." Modo finished as he lifted Manuelo up onto his feet.

"But how can you be so sure?" Manuelo asked them.

Suddenly, they heard a very familiar whoop echoing off the stone walls throughout the Pits, followed by several explosions. Throttle shared a smirk with Modo before smiled down at Manuelo.

"Trust us." They drawled simultaneously.

More thugs appeared as if on cue. Opening the cage and dragging them out by the shackles. Throttle grimaced against the pull on his arm, and barely managed to signal Modo to stand down upon noticing him struggle. Before they knew it, they were standing in front of the 'throne' of the Pit Boss, who sneered upon hearing the distant sound of explosions and tire-screeching. Throttle smirked.

"Mmm, something happening out there?"

"Nothing that concerns you! But this does…" The Pit Boss drawled, and with the crack of the whip, one of the Mechanical Gladiators sprung to life, advancing on them. "Nobody defies the power of the Pit Boss." Throttle nudged for Manuelo to duck, and despite his shoulder screaming at him, whipped his shackles around and caught the spinning blades of the gladiator. Modo jumped in pulling the machine down with him and decommissioning it.

"You know, it's funny." Throttle reached down and lifted the arm of the machine, nearly buckling with the pain in his shoulder. "You sound a lot like an overripe cheeseball we know."

"He's always saying stuff like that too." Modo stuck his arm out, and Throttle, unable to really swing the weapon without risking his arm further, let the weapon drop from a height. It was a calculated risk, but it worked. The chain around Modo's arm snapped, and his grey-furred bro promptly shot another gladiator down. Throttle held his weapon in his right hand as a third gladiator snuck up behind him. He stuck the blades down into the links and jumped back.

"Yeah but, things never work out his way either." He added just as the machine exploded and collapsed in a burning heap.

"Cause they're the Biker Mice from Mars!" Manuelo cried out, seemingly invigorated by their small victories. A whoop resounded again as one of the walls of the arena broke down, revealing a disguised Vinnie on Sweetheart, leading their bikes behind him.

"That's my que!" Vinnie cried making his usual magnificent entrance, coming to a stop right in front of them. Both Throttle and Modo had to chuckle at Manuelo's startled expression. The one thing Vinnie was good at was making a brilliant entrance.

"D-Destroy them! Destroy them NOW!" The three mice looked up to see an enraged Pit Boss, incoherently yelling how many ways he wanted to kill them. One of his men was aiming a flame thrower in their direction. Suddenly, Manuelo raced passed them, holding one of the mechanical gladiator arms and throwing it. By some miracle it shot true, knocking the flame thrower out of the thug's grasp, and the Pit Boss barely managed to dodge it before it was imbedded in his throne. Clearly there was some pent-up rage that Manuelo had been waiting to let out for a long time.

Impressed, the bros congratulated Manuelo.

That was when the fliers, with their faces and the promise of $50,000 with the delivery of their heads, started falling.

Charley had the good sense to sneak up behind Greasepit as the goon sang a perverted version of I'm dreaming of a White Christmas. He was dumping some sort of fliers into the pits, no doubt a rotten plan cooked up by Limburger. How the stink-face had figured out the bros were down there was anyone's guess, but she was not about to let them jeopardize the bros safe return. She lowered the dump truck again to stop the fall of the fliers.

"Stop it, you oily oaf!"

"Too late, little miss Annette Funicello." Greasepit turned to her, smirking. "Your mouse club buddies are gonna be Pit chow now." He rushed towards her, and Charley quickly called upon her training to dodge and kick him away. She started racing back to the truck, needing to get the bros back up there. Even with her training, she was worried that she might not be able to hold long against Greasepit by herself. He may be an idiot, but he was physically stronger than her.

She pulled the lever down, setting the chains off on their journey, and turned to face Greasepit again. She dodged another lunge from the brute, and attempted to strike at him again, but he grabbed both her arms in a death grip. They struggled, but her fears about his greater strength proved true as he quickly began overpowering her. Her back hit the lever as he forced her to the ground, pinning both her wrists while mounting over her. She took a deep breath and pushed her hips up, dislodging him and sending him forwards while pulling her arms down to release his hold on them, which caused him to fall flat on his face. She took this chance to scramble away to get the lift started, praying that the bros had managed to reach the chains in time and that she wasn't leaving them down there.

She turned onto her back and lifted her legs just as Greasepit raced for her again. She kicked him back hard…perhaps too hard as he begun to stumble towards the edge of the pits. She certainly didn't want to kill anyone. She got to her feet just as he tumbled over the edge…

Only to reappear again in Vinnie's iron grip, Modo and Throttle beside him with another man in tow, peeking nervously over Modo's shoulder.

"Hey Charley-girl…" Vinnie crooned with his signature grin.

"You dropped this." Throttle added looking proudly over the freaked out Greasepit.

"Or were you just throwing it away?" Modo finished. Charley shook her head in amusement.

"Thanks for taking out the garbage guys. And welcome back." The bros quickly got onto solid ground again. Charley spotted Throttle grimacing behind his visor, but before she could ask if he was ok, he waved her off, announcing he and the bros had a few stops to make. She didn't fail to notice the look of concern sent his way by Modo. But there was clearly something more pressing at the moment. The man, who introduced himself as Manuelo, was staring at the sky like he hadn't seen it in years, which was a sad thought. Charley smiled, waving them off before heading back to the garage to await them. Maybe she could salvage what was left of their dinner with a quick reheating.

But when the bros returned, panicked cries drove her to race out of the kitchen, nearly dropping the plates in her haste to reach the garage. Throttle was slumped half over his bike, Modo and Vinnie at his sides trying to rouse him. That set off alarm bells.

"Throttle, can you hear me?" she asked alarmed as she pulled his helmet off. Throttle's eyes fluttered weakly, groaning instead of giving her an answer. He looked pale under his fur and was sweating profusely. This was scaring her. Getting nothing out of Throttle, she turned to the other two. "What happened?"

"He dislocated his shoulder, probably when we first landed in the Pits. His breathing was off too and he was favoring his right side. I think he may have some cracked ribs." Modo explained, pulling the limp figure of Throttle upright. It took both Vinnie and Modo to lift Throttle off of Lady. He was clearly out of it. "I popped it back in, but since then he's been pushing it. We were swinging picks for hours and they weren't exactly gentle with us before putting us in that arena."

Charley lead the way into the living room where the mouse was gently deposited on the couch. "Modo go get the first aid kit. Vinnie, go to the kitchen and get some water and all the painkillers we have. They are under the sink." Charley instructed. The mice nodded and disappeared, leaving the two alone. Charley kneeled down, examining Throttle's still form. Even with all the fur, his shoulder looked painfully swollen. Charley moved his vest aside and started checking his side, running her fingers along his ribs and cringed. There was the telltale crunch of a broken rib, but she had no doubt that several more were cracked. She sighed gravely. How much pain had he been in the last couple of hours? He should be in the hospital, not lying down on her couch.

..That may not go down well. They didn't have an E.T department. So she had little choice but to patch him up as best she could. She shook her head, taking off his specs to check his pupils. His head dropped loosely as he turned to her.

"Ya know, Charley…" he was slurring a little, "…I'm glad I got to see you again."

Charley smiled sadly at him. "You didn't think you were going to die down there, did you?" She let out a nervous laugh, but stopped as he shook his head.

"Nah… before… missed ya…"

Before? Before what?

"Throttle, what…?" but he was out cold, finally succumbing to the pain.

Throttle just goes through it all, doesn't he?

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