The following is a piece of fan fiction based on Biker Mice From Mars. All characters were created by Rick Ungar, original story by Tom Tataranowicz, and are not my property.
This is an AU retelling of BMFM and explores mature subject matter including death, violence, abuse, sex (con and noncon), torture, and mutilation. Reader's discretion is advised. Some character history has been altered from their original source but like I said, this is an AU.
Chapter 8-
Charley woke up early again and dressed herself for work. She was a bit relieved to open her door and not find any mice waiting for her. She was more so relieved to find the garage empty of mice as well. They had been kind, welcoming, patient and all that, but Charley be alone; to work alone. She could talk to herself, make weird faces, grumble, swear and sweat without having to feel self conscious or answer questions.
Her mechanical work reminded her of how her grandmother cooked family meals; everyone had to stay the hell out of the kitchen. Her father had more patients than she did. The man could never stick to a deadline but had enough charm to make up. Charley never had that luxury. As a young woman in a man's world, it wasn't enough to be good, she had to be great; she had to be confident, but not arrogant; she had to be charming, but not a complete pushover; above all she could not be a bitch. But when she was alone, she could just be herself.
She started work on the bikes she didn't finish last night. They were easy enough jobs that would take less than half an hour if she was methodical with her time. Then she focused her attention on Vinnie's bike.
When she first assessed his bike, she was unsure if Vinnie was a good rider or not. The bike had been terribly abused. After watching him drive, and seeing how he acted when he lost his temper, Charley came to the conclusion that he was an excellent driver, and all that damage was on purpose. He was a reckless, thrill-seeking show off. If they were on Earth and he was a regular customer, she would make bank off of him.
She had to remove the rear fender and part of the seat in order to remove the shock absorber. Normally, she would work with such tunnel vision, but maybe because of stress, or still not getting enough sleep, Charley let her mind wander.
She found herself staring at the bike mirrors shaped like a mouse head and thinking back to last nights dinner with Vinnie. She didn't remember if he apologized or not, but it was sweet of him to try and be nice to her. There was nothing he needed to apologize for anyway. If he truly loved this Harley, he'd have every right to be angry at this world, this planet. The way he teased her, his goofy mouse smile, made Charley wish that there was someone on Earth who would fight as hard to get her home. The hope she had of finding Lawrence died long ago. Vinnie's commitment to finding his girlfriend made Charley feel something, she just didn't know what. Charley let out a long yawn and purged the thoughts from her mind, Vinnie wouldn't be able to find anyone if she didn't finish this job before the freedom fighters were expected to roll out.
It took Charley over an hour to fix Vinnie's bike and have it reassembled. By that time, she had heard the sound of mice eating breakfast down the hall. Something in the air was giving off a nutty, spicey aroma and Charley's stomach rumbled. There wasn't really anything left for her to do, unless she wanted to make up menial jobs to take up time. She had clearly worked up an appetite, and the smell was too tempting to ignore. So, she decided to brave entering the dining hall on her own.
A few of the mice nodded their heads at her, acknowledging her presence but keeping to themselves, some offered a pleasant 'good morning,' or 'working early again are yah?' and other bits of casual small talk. Vinnie, Throttle, Modo, and Rimfire were sitting at the table, at the same seats as their first meal. Rimfire looked up from their conversation and gave Charley a frantic wave. He reminded her of a young highschooler who somehow managed to get in with a group of older, cooler friends and was living it up. The more she humanized the mice around her, the more relaxed she felt.
"Good morning, Charley," they all said one after another as she sat down. She gave Vinnie a quizzical look.
"What?" he took a defensive, matter-of-fact tone. "Mice don't keep secrets. You said your friends call you Charley."
"And who could ask for better friends than us?" Modo said as he squeezed Throttle and Rimfire into a group hug. The three mice had their cheeks pressed together and gave Charley over exaggerated smiles.
She shook her head at them. "The three of you all have porridge in your fur." She began to eat her breakfast as her three friends ended their embrace and sheepishly wiped their mouths with their hands.
Vinnie looked as though he was stifling a smile. "What?" Charley asked him in a mocking tone. "Mice don't keep secrets. It would be a shame for them to drive into Port Cydon with food on their face."
"Speaking of Port Cydon," said Throttle. "Were you able to get all the bikes battle ready?"
"I'm not sure about battle ready but they are all road ready."
"What about my dirt bike?" asked Rimfire.
"Doesn't matter if you're not going," Modo said in a flat tone. Rimfire opened his mouth to object, but his uncle cut him off again. "No buts. I promised mom and sis I'd keep you out of trouble, so you are staying here."
"But what if there's a medical emergency? What if someone needs my help?" the kid asked, ignoring his uncle.
"No buts," Throttle and Vinnie echoed their bros words.
"You don't want to see what we are going to see," said Throttle.
"Besides," added Vinnie, "someone needs to stay here and protect Charley."
"I don't need a babysitter," Charley and Rimfire spoke in unison.
The three bros laughed aloud. "We just want to take care of our good friends." Modo placed his nephew into a headlock and tussled the fur atop his head. Vinnie gave Charley a pat on the back but quit when she flinched slightly.
She looked up at Vinnie and tried to brush off her reflex with a smile. Vinnie smiled back at her and silently said the word sorry.
I'll be fine she silently replied.
Breakfast went on and mice around the base began to gear up for what looked to be a week-long mission. Stoker was impressed with the work Charley had done given the short amount of notice for this mission. Rimfire still tried to persuade anyone who would listen to let him go. When he finally made his way up the chain of command, Stoker said he could either stay at base or go back to Arcadias. With that, the kid went back to his room to sulk.
With all the engines running in the garage, the sound was deafening. Even standing outside the cave, Charley had to cover her ears with her hands in order to protect them from noise damage.
As the bikes were getting into position, Vinnie pulled up beside her. "Are you going to wish me good luck?" he asked.
Charley just shrugged and shook her head. She had no idea what he was saying. Vinnie dismounted and took Charley by the hand. He took her a few feet away from the bikes, up the side of the mountain, far enough away for her to finally hear herself think.
"I said, are you going to wish …us good luck?"
Just looking at the mouse, Charley could tell his adrenaline was racing, and it was contagious. "When your done wiping them off the face of this planet, we'll have a big 'ol fish fry when you get back."
Vinnie could hardly contain his eagerness. "This one is for you Charley! For the both of us! Just wait and see!" the mouse was practically skipping as he made his way back to his bike.
Charley stayed in the spot Vinnie had taken her and watched the mice rev their engines as the waited for the signal from Stoker to move out. When everything seemed set, Stoker, out in front, raised his right arm and pointed up to the mid-morning sky. Within a second, his arm came down to point to the road ahead of him. Engines roared, feet kicked off the ground, a giant dust cloud rose, and the freedom fighters were off.
With nothing else to do, Charley sat on the dusty mountain side beneath her and watched the mice disappear beyond the horizon.
Port Cydon was once the largest coastal city in Marineris. What Mice were to caves and canyons of Mars, Rats were to the Borealis ocean. The lighthouse that sat atop Cydon's bluffs was once the oldest standing building on Mars. Built up, stone by stone, not carved out of existing caves. On clear nights, the light was visible all the way from Tharsis. The city's main source of wealth came from fishing and farming the fertile soil in the Marineris delta. Pre-invasion, it was also a popular romantic destination for Rats and Mice alike.
The rivers in the delta have now all but disappeared. The rich soil turned to dust. The ocean still remained but had been plundered so badly that ninety percent of the fish population was extinct. In order to save what remained of Mars' ocean, the rats placed a complete ban on commercial fishing and enforced a limit on how much could be caught for personal use. The result led to a famine in the rat population that they never fully recovered from. They were the first major city to fall to Plutark.
Vinnie had never had the chance to see Port Cydon in its glory days. Now it was city in ruins, the same as any Mouse city. The Rat militia had reclaimed most of the city and it's surrounding region, but it had come at a high price. Still, it was hard for Vinnie to feel any pity for the rats. They let their greed get the best of them. They got what they deserved.
Stoker had grilled into both him and Modo to stay on their best behaviour, to not instigate anything. The citizens of Port Cydon had rallied themselves together, long after their government fell into chaos, they fought and died to purge the last of the Plutarkians from this planet and now they needed help.
They didn't help when the mice were fighting Stilton. They didn't help when one of their own sold betrayed the freedom fighters. Everything that had happened to Vinnie and his bros: His disfigured face, Modo's arm, Throttles eyes, Stoker being brainwashed, losing Harley, was all the fault of a Rat. It was hard for Vinnie to let go of that hatred.
As the mice began to make their way into Port Cydon proper, the affects of Plutarkian occupation became too jarring to ignore. Amongst the ruins of destroyed homes, an emaciated rat population when about trying to rebuild their lives. Some looked as though they were sitting around waiting to die; others were busy collecting the ones already dead. Everyone looked defeated.
Stoker stopped and the rest followed suit. He was speaking to two rats who were collecting loading cadavers into a cart. Vinnie watched his leader ask for directions. The two rats pointed to their left. Stoker pressed his left thumb to his forehead and then to his heart, a sign of solace for the dead. The rats bowed their heads and the mice pressed onward.
Vinnie regretting looking into the cart as the passed. Among the collection of rats of all ages, his sight fixated on that of a mother still clutching her infant child. The two were nothing more than skeletons with fur attached. He may have hated the rats but witnessing this amount of suffering was too much to bear.
He glanced behind at Modo who was white knuckling his handlebars. Vinnie wondered if Modo had seen the same thing. They made uneasy eye contact and then put their focus back on the road ahead. It seemed to Vinnie that they were driving right into hell on Mars.