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.
I hope that this will be the first of three fanfics I have planned: Mars, Earth, and Home. All reviews, feedback, and constructive criticism are welcomed.
Prologue-
The storm coming off from lake Michigan was cold and unforgiving. Hurricane force winds and freezing rain pummeled down on Chicago, but the citizens of the windy city were hard and not about to let a little November drizzle take away from their merriment. Such was the case of the friends heading south down the I90; a'91 Lincoln Town car, jet black, tinted windows and the custom place BIGCH33Z3 belonging to Mr. Lawrence Maximillius Limburger: millionaire, business mogul, and die-hard Green Bay Packers fan.
Lawrence, a man of large stature, had the body of a football player and once had the potential to play in college, although a back injury thwarted those dreams. So, he dedicated his philanthropic causes to funding school sports teams; specifically catering to children with disabilities, and underfunded school districts. His business dealings were always scheduled around the Packers games, an no matter the occasion, Lawrence always wore a green and gold tie, his green socks with gold cheese wheels, and his treasured 1967 Green Bay Packers super bowl ring he won at a charity auction.
Tonight, Lawrence was the keynote speaker at a gala hosted by Chicago's Chamber of Commerce celebrating achievements and milestones of different businesses in the city. It was his personal honor to present Young Entrepreneur of the Year to the daughter of his life-long friend, Charlene Davidson. Lawrence had known Charlene, Charley to her friends, since she was born and considered her as his niece. After her father had died while she was a sophomore in high-school, he ensured that she would want for nothing. He kept her from falling into despair and helped her follow her passion, her father's footsteps.
Tonight, he was beaming with pride, for himself and for is old friend at what Charley was able to accomplish after opening her own repair shop, the Last Chance Garage. While she had already received accolades for her work, voted Reader's Choice Best Mechanic in Chicago and was featured in the August issue of Rider Magazine, this new award would give Charley free membership into the Chamber of Commerce. She would have prestige, and a voice to help her community. He also had the honor of escorting young Charley home, refusing to let her ride home on her bike in this dreary weather.
"Honestly, I have no idea how you even got to the hotel on that bike wearing that dress," Lawrence said as he winced as a passing big rig pelted his car with run off.
Charley was wearing a form fitting emerald gown, strapless with a heart neckline, adorned with emerald sequins and glass beads, and flared out just below her knees. Her auburn hair was in a simple French bun with some ringlets of baby hairs hung loose from her temples and the nape of her neck. Her ears and neck were adorned with her mother's pearls.
"I changed in the women's washroom before dinner started," Charley said holding a glass of champagne in her delicate hands. She smiled at her own resourcefulness. "Though I do appreciate this ride home."
"At least this way we can have one more glass." Lawrence said clinking his glass with Charley's.
"I believe we are on our fifth one more glass of the night Cheesehead."
"All the more reasons for you not to be driving!"
The two laughed as they finished their last sips and Lawrence poured the remnants of the champagne bottle into the two flutes. A hush fell over the car as he watched Charley stare listlessly out her window.
"I know your mother and father would be so proud of you; are proud of you, Charley."
"It always helps when your uncle is on the Chamber," Charley replied keeping her gaze fixed on the city passing before her.
"Are you insinuating that I somehow rigged this event? I am flabbergasted!"
Charley said nothing back but gave her friend a cheeky grin. "They say you rigged the last game with the Bears." She knew that would get Lawrence riled up. As much as everyone in the city loved him, they knew he was cheering for the wrong team.
"I don't need to pay off the Bears to lose every other game, they do that on their own."
The two continued on laughing and ribbing each other to the point that neither had taken notice that the rain around them had completely stopped. All noise and all sound had disappeared as well. It wasn't until the car came to a sudden lurch that they take heed of their predicament.
"What the hell is going on?" Lawrence asked himself allowed as he stepped towards the glass door that divided the back of his car from the front. "Jeffrey what on earth is going on?" His driver, Jeffrey, was just as ignorant as his employer.
Charley placed her champagne flute in her glass holder and pressed her hands around her eyes and the window in a vain attempt to peer outside. Suddenly, a blinding white light flooded the entire limo. The light was followed by a deafening high-pitched ringing; after that; nothingness.
Chapter 1-
It had been five months since the freedom fighters dealt their greatest blow to the Plutarkian invaders. Five months of Martians turning the tide in the war for their home planet. Five months of Vinnie and his sworn brothers adjusting to their new bodies. Five months since the traitor Mace took off with Harley as his hostage. The permanent scarring to his face was something the brave and bold Vincent Van Wham could move on from, but losing Harley left him a wound that would never heal over.
While the rest of his fellow freedom fighters celebrated the defeat of Dominic Stilton and his underling Vector Lactavius Valentino, Vinnie spent the last five months hunting down any and all potential leads to find Harley. When he was not actively hunting, he spent his time brooding, or sparring with anyone willing to be his literal and emotional punching bag. When the white fur on his knuckles began to turn pink, stained with his own blood, he took of on solo rides to clear his head; each outing becoming more reckless than the last.
Vinnie's behaviour was bordering on insubordination, but his leader, Stoker, was being lenient with him. Perhaps too lenient. Stoker also missed Harley, more than he would ever admit to Vinnie; Harley made her choice. With Plutarkian resistance at a near stand-still, Stoker could afford to spare one freedom fighter on a quest to save one of their own. Putting aside personal feelings, Harley was a medic and their best mechanic. The freedom fighters were able to recruit Rim Fire to act as their new medic, much to the disapproval of his uncle Modo, but no other Martian could ever compare to Harley's mechanical genius.
However, Stoker did not know how much longer he could spare Vinnie. The young mouse was one of his best; if he ever got his act together, he would be the very best. Stoker knew Vinnie didn't have that natural leadership skills that his brother Throttle did, but the white furred mouse was destined for greatness. Stoker had been preparing himself to give the order to Vinnie; that it was time for him to put aside his search and get back into the field to reclaim their planet. He knew Vinnie would not take this order lightly, there would be fighting; he hoped Vinnie's bros would help him see reason.
And then, as if it blessed by the Gods Phobos and Deimos themselves, Stoker was given the most promising lead as to Harley's whereabouts since her kidnapping. It was brought to him by an acolyte at the Ascraeus Monastery, recently rebuilt with assistance from the freedom fighters who operated in the ancient caves below the holy site. They might finally get Harley home.
Someone knocked on the door to Stoker private room an office. Before he could respond the door opened and Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie invited themselves in.
"You wanted to see us?" asked Throttle.
"I wanted to see Vinnie. Well, I wanted to see the three of you but mostly Vinnie."
"If this is about the hole in the mess hall, I already fixed it," Vinnie said dryly.
"I don't think covering up a hole in the wall with a pin-up girl poster counts as a fix," Modo teased.
Stoker didn't laugh along with Modo and Throttle. He showed no emotion as he stared Vinnie down. "I've received intel that a band of Sand Raiders in Ganges Canyon have come into possession of a slave."
"What does that have to do with us?" Vinnie asked.
Stoker could tell that he was impatient and wanted his leader to get to the point. "My source hasn't seen this slave firsthand, but word is she is a mechanic; a really good mechanic."
Vinnie's face lit up. "Harley," he didn't so much speak as he did breathe her name.
"We don't know for sure but it's the best tip we've received so far."
"I've got to get her-"
"No." Stoker interrupted his friend. "We don't know who is being held captive or if there is a captive at all. What we need to do is gather more intel."
"You want us to spy?" Asked Modo.
"From a distance, make your observations and report back to headquarters. Ganges Canyon is Slobber's territory, and it will take more than the three of you to take him and his crew out. That's if the captive turns out to be Harley. Resources are scarce and we cannot afford to waste time or ammo on false leads."
"You're out of your mind if you think I am going to Ganges and not coming back with Harley if she's there," Vinnie snapped. "I've whipped the asses of those mangy mouth-breathing mutts before and I will whip their asses again any day."
"Cool it Vinnie," said Throttle. "This is a recon job. We're not going to do anything that will put Harley's life on the line."
Stoker exhaled loudly and shook his head. "You are to keep your distance and do not engage in any activity with the Raiders. Report back to me before sunset. Am I clear?"
"Sir, yes sir," Throttle and Modo spoke in unison in a mocking tone.
"Vincent…"
"Yeah, yeah I heard you," Vinnie grumbled as he began to make is way out of Stoker's room.
Stoker looked at Modo and Throttle, "Please keep him in line."
"No worries, Stoker we got this." With that Throttle gave is leader a two-fingered salute and the two made their way out the door.
"Ride free, Citizens!" Stoker called out, watching as all three of the biker mice raised their fists in the air.
As the three bros made their way to their bikes, they remained calm and silent so as not to give away their enthusiasm.
"So, we're going to go rescue Harley?" Modo asked. He already knew the answer but needed confirmation from his brothers.
"Oh, we are most definitely going to rescue Harley," Throttle replied as he mounted his ride.
"And we're going to teach scum lord Slobber what happens when you mess with the Biker Mice." Vinnie spoke with venom and determination. "Lets Rock…"
"And Ride!" his brothers responded. Their engine revved, and red Martian dust kicked up behind them as they headed towards the Eastern Edge of Tharsis.