Chapter Text
Morning. Or maybe early afternoon. Vinnie could not quite tell by the shade of the light filtering through the broken and dusty blinds of the old tailor home, but his internal clock told him it was probably closer to the latter.
His mouth was dry and tasted disgusting; the tell-tale remnants of a night of too much drinking and probably previously being sick. Now that he was alittle more alert he could definitely confirm that. Flashes of the bathroom stall, and his guts heaving, gripping the toilet bowl for dear life as hand rubbed his back.
He groaned and pressed his face into his pillow, wondering if he couldn’t recapture the tail-ends of the sleep that was slipping away. But of course, it was too late for that. He was aware of snoring somewhere else nearby, and a body shifting in the bed behind.
The masked mouse blinked hard, twisting suddenly towards his bedmate. “Charlie--?”
It had been a silly thought. More of a wish.
The person asleep beside him in the bed was not his beloved and much missed earthly-fling Charlene Davidson, but rather his bro.
Throttle was half smashed against the wall and the bed, still fully clothed and looking like Vinnie felt. Dirty, battered, and ruffled. Vinnie groaned at him in disappointment, then picked up his own pillow and swatted at the tan mouse.
“Hey! What’s the big idea making all that racket?!” he muttered at him.
Throttle came awake with a jolt, grabbing at the pillow and jerking it free from Vinnie’s hand, looking at up at him with bloodshot eyes. “Jeezus…that anyway to thank me for last night?” the other quipped.
Vinnie blinked, suddenly scrambling to remember how drunk he had exactly gotten last night.
As if reading his thoughts, Throttle frowned and whapped him with the pillow in return. “Oh please, don’t flatter yourself…I’ve never been that drunk, Vincent.” His bro sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “You went a little hard at the race last night. More than your usual. Modo and I didn’t want to you spendin’ the night alone.”
The snoring sound hit a crescendo making them both look towards the open bedroom door and out into the narrow hallway leading into the living room and kitchen. Modo must have taken up residence on the couch and was still undisturbed.
“Maybe he should see a doctor about that…” Vinnie muttered.
Throttle sat up full, climbing out of the rumbled bed and stretching, trying to work the stiffness in his neck and shoulders out. “You know you might be a little more grateful, bro. We coulda let you weather the night back at the track alone. But neither Modo or I have bail money for you right now.”
Vinnie relented, softening. “Sorry bro.” He scrubbed a hand across his face tiredly, then reached up, scratching at the spikes of new hair growing along the ridge of his mask. He didn’t know how to feel about it. For years nothing had grown there beyond his regular fur, now all the sudden it was like he was sprouting something new.
“You should let it grow out,” Throttle nodded, spotting his fidgeting.
“Yeah?”
“Sure. I think you’d look pretty badass with a wave of hair there, or a short mohawk.”
“You mean I’d look like you.” Vinnie snarked.
Throttle winked at him, “Well, I am pretty badass, aren’t I?”
The tan mouse dodged the pillow before it could hit him, slipping through the door as it hit Vinnie’s childhood dresser and rattled the collection of old junk gathered atop of it. “I’ll go wake the big fella and see if we can rustle you up a hang-over cure,” he called back, leaving Vinnie alone in the bedroom once more.
The white furred mouse nodded, and then, in the solitude, felt suddenly and strikingly alone. He looked around the bedroom that had not changed much since his youth. The warped paneling on the walls, still plastered with motorcross posters and clippings, stolen signage and license plates. Photos that were sun damaged and fading, taped to the sliding closet door.
The carpet under his feet used to be blue, but now it was a soft of off grey-ish green from years of going un-swept and uncleaned. The musty smell of it made him feel sneezy, but his nose did little more than twitch.
He sat there, on the edge of the double bed and tried to think…how it was he was right back where he had started. How he had lived through an occupation, an invasion, a war, the near ecological collapse of his planet, exile to another planet for ten years, only to end up right back in his childhood bedroom, staring at the same old junk, doing the same stupid shit with the same two people?
On Earth, he had heard Charlie refer to things like this as a “Midlife Crisis” sort of moment. He was pretty sure he’d been having one since they had come back to Mars, almost five years ago now.
He’d been a Freedom Fighter, a war hero, an intergalactic fugitive, an alien superhero and now… what was he? What the hell was he doing with his life?
It was a question that he and his bros currently shared at the moment, though they weren’t aware of it yet.
In the small kitchenette of the trailer, Throttle began to dig through the barely stocked cabinets for something to feed their collective hangover while Modo was beginning the day in the bathroom.
He heard the flesh of the toilet, followed by the gush of water from the sink and the big grey furred mouse emerged, having to duck to avoid hitting his head on the low doorway. “Yikes…what did Vinnie eat last night?”
“I think that the lack of eating was the main problem, big fella. Eight drinks on an empty stomach and a night of racing equals praying to the porcelain god.” The tan mouse answered. He glanced at his taller companion. “How about you? Keepin’ everything down?”
“Yeah…more or less. Tongue feels like sandpaper.”
Throttle handed him a glass of water from the tap. It was still synthetic and tasted odd, but it would do the trick. Modo gulped it down gratefully.
“You look like you slept under the bed. What happened?”
“Dunno…passed out after his third or fourth trip to the toilet I think, was trying to make sure he didn’t choke in his sleep. My head is pounding.”
Modo looked around the old trailer, noting the dust that had collected. “I don’t think the environment is helping much. How about I crack a window, let some air in this place, hmm?”
Throttle gave him a thumbs up, fishing out some pancake mix and what looked like hashbrowns that had been frozen for a better part of a year. Maybe longer. He dropped the hard frozen spuds on the counter—half testing to see if they would shatter—and then searched for a pan.
Meanwhile, Modo moved towards the front door. The trailer had a main door, and a screen door. It had been broken and patched over time with tape in the places the screen had been punched through. It, like the rest of the trailer, was a patchwork of age and incidents.
“Tell me again why we crashed here?” He asked Throttle, letting the main door hang open wide and closing just the screen to let the fresh air in. “Mama’s place is just a few miles up the road.”
Throttle glanced at him over his shoulder. “Mmmhmm. But I don’t think she would have cared for the three of us crashing in on her at 2 in the morning, half sloshed. Some of us mostly sloshed.”
Modo winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…there’s that. But we could have crashed in the barn for the night. Ain’t like we haven’t done it before.” He grinned back at Throttle, who rolled his eyes but also smirked.
“Let’s not go down that road, big fella…” He greased on the skillets and let it rest on the hot burner, chipping away at the frozen hashbrowns until they were in manageable chunks, scattering them across the hot surface. “Besides…I think he’s been missing home lately.”
Modo nodded sagely, “Yeah. Not the only thing he’s missing, I can tell you that. Heard him calling for Charlie in his sleep again.”
“You can quit talkin’ about me like I’m not here!” Vinnie’s voice drifted to them from the bedroom.
“Then how about you come out and join the conversation!” Modo called back. He shook his head. “Boy has no manners, I swear.”
“Can’t a mouse get a moment of peace in his own house?!” Vinnie fired back, almost petulantly, slamming the bedroom door as he attempted some privacy while changing. Both Throttle and Modo cringed, hearing the tell-tale sound of the door getting stuck in the frame and Vinnie’s quiet cursing behind it.
“Is it his house?” Modo mused then, looking around at the sun-faded and dusty furniture, all left just the way it had been the last time they had been here, before their exile to Earth. “I mean, if you don’t live in a place for more than fifteen years…do you still own it?”
“That’s a good question.”
Both Throttle and Modo stiffened at the sudden intrusion of a new voice. They turned, Throttle nearly knocking the hot pan off the stove, to see a woman standing on the other side of the screen door.
Neither of the two mice recognized her at first, both instinctively reaching for weapons that were always on their person. Modo’s obviously at the most ready. His arm canon made a soft whirring sound as it warmed up, ready to pop the hatch and take aim if necessary.
The woman blinked back at the pair of them through the screen. White furred, long haired, and dressed in what they would best describe as an army cover-all jump suit. She leaned on it casually, peering back at them, and they noticed that she was not un-armed, wielding what looked like a basic lazor blaster in one hand.
“What are you two squatters doing in my house exactly?”
“Squatters?” Throttle scoffed. “I think maybe you might have the wrong house, ma’am. Best move along…”
But Modo, who was standing closest to the door, finally recognized the face on the other side of it. His bionic arm lowered immediately as his ears perked in surprise. “Jessie?”
She blinked back at him, taken off guard. “Wait…” she tucked the blaster away and stepped inside, the door clacking loudly behind her the way it always did. “Modo? Is that you?! You grew like…2 feet?!”
She was beaming at him, clearly stunned. Her eyes swept over the tall figure, taking in the bionic arm and the stark black eyepatch, as well the notches in his ear along side the gold hoops. Her gaze turned to Throttle, sizing him up the same. “Oh my lord…what have you boys been up to?”
It was still dawning on the two males who they were looking at.
“Yeah…guess it’s been awhile.” Modo nodded slowly, feeling a renewed sense of awareness of his battle scars under her scrutiny. He automatically tucked his bionic arm behind his back, wanting to hide the handicap. “How are you, Jess? We…” Modo stammered, still taking her in. He floundered for words and looked to Throttle, as he usually did when he was unsure. The tan mouse had moved away from the food and stepped closer, shoulders squared and lacking the self-consciousness Modo was feeling.
“We thought you were long gone, girl! It’s been a war and a half!” He explained, the shock still clear in his voice but edged with something else. Not exasperation exactly, but something close.
Jessie blinked at him and bit her lip, looking at the floor briefly. “Yeah, I know…I know it’s been a long time. I always meant to check in with you boys, you know, I heard stories about you all the time. Really kept us all going there in the dark times.”
Throttle frowned at her, his gaze still stern. “He thought you were dead.”
She looked genuinely surprised at this, her eyes going wide. “What? Dead? Why would he think that?!”
“I dunno, maybe because you picked up one day and then vanished for almost 20 years without so much as a letter, a vidcom check in, nothing!?” His voice was rising, surprised at the anger that was suddenly rising to the surface. His bro was equally surprised, touching his shoulder gently as if to ground him.
“Easy, bro, easy…sure there’s some sort of explanation.” He looked to Jessie again, as if urging her to divulge.
She faltered, blinking between the two of them. There was guilt on her face, and a longing as well. Like she was holding something back. “Look, it’s not that simple okay—”
Before she could do any more explaining, there was hard banging on the bedroom door from down the hall. Vinnie, trying to escape from his accidental prison. “Hey! What’s going on out there, who are you guys talking to!?” He called.
They all stared down the hall at the door as it shook on its hinges. All aware they should go and help, but all seeming reluctant to move.
Finally the door popped free, a new sizable crack zig-zagging down the top corner of it, and Vinnie emerged, now dressed in more than a pair of boxers, thank goodness.
He stalked towards them, his tired eyes and the shadows of the windowless hallway dimming his vision. “Gee don’t get up or anything guys, I totally don’t need your help…”
His complaint was pushed aside as he caught sight of her. Taller than him by an inch and half—a fact she had never let him forget—her hair having grown out and trailing nearly to her hips. Tall and lean and not looking at all like a teenager on the edge of womanhood. She was grown. They both were.
“Jess?” The sound was small, and almost childish coming out of him. Lacking all of his usual bravado, charm or snark.
None of them spoke, the two other mice watching the siblings take each other in. Jessie lifted a hand towards her mouth as if to cover it, but it stopped short, resting at her throat. She was staring at the mask that adorned the left-side of Vinnie face. Something so common to the other two now, but jarring and unfamiliar to her.
Vinnie’s gaze dropped, suddenly self-conscious in a way his bros hadn’t seen him since he’d first gotten the mask.
“Hey little bro,” she offered softly, her eyes misting slightly now. “It’s been awhile, huh?” She tried to laugh, but the sound cracked and broke off, too feeble to carry itself. Her face crumpled and she closed the distance between them, arms around him, hugging him fast and hard. “Oh my gods, look at you. All grown up. Fuck, you look just like Daddy…”
Vinnie said nothing, just held her back, fingers digging in her clothes. His silence was a measure of the shock he was feeling, the complete overwhelm.
“You’re alive?” he asked, his voice still too small.
She pulled back, cupping his face. “Yes! I’m here. I’m sorry you didn’t know…really, little bro I thought you did.”
“How? How would I know that, Jess?!” he spat suddenly, pushing her back slightly. “How would I know that?! You’ve been completely radio silent for years! Where the hell have you been!?”
She sighed shakily, clearly feeling overwhelmed but also defensive. “Look, it’s not like I went out joyriding one night and never came home, Vinnie! I went out to do something with my life while I still could! I’ve been in the Out Flow, I got medical training and I spent the war there as an EMT. I’ve been busy…”
“The Out Flow? Well that explains it…place got hit hard by Plutarkians, been cut off for years while they dried out the water there.” Modo mused. “But we were there a few times on missions…hardly any settlements there. How did you survive?”
“We were transient, like most of the mice colonies left. Stay moving, stay out of trouble. Seen more than half the planet now. Or what’s left of it.” She shrugged, seeming unable to decide whether she was proud or not. But they were all studying her with such intensity that she prickled, tail lashing with anxiety.
“Where have you three been? Still riding around this dump I suppose?”
Vinnie’s tail began to lash the same way hers did, and his temper flared, eyes wide. He laughed in the cynical way he did when he was irritated. “Oooh…you’re shitting me, right? You are shitting me. You think I’ve been kicking around this dumpy ol’ trailer since the war?! Doing what, Jess?! Waiting for you to show up?!”
“Well, I mean, you are here…”
“We’ve been off planet for ten years! Exiled to fuckin Earth, after we fucking got our asses near blown off and escaped capture from a Plutarkian lab! Or did you think I have this damn metal face just for looks!?” He shouted, forcing her to look at it.
She winced, obviously hurt and feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Vinnie groaned. “Yeah. That’s the point.”
The siblings were silent for a moment, the words hanging heavily between them. Jessie looked on the verge of tears, staring at the floor. She put a hand over face, trying to hide beyond what the curtain of her hair provided. “I’m so sorry…”
Her brother softened immediately, triggered at once by the sight of his big sister in distress. He pushed his own anger aside, pulling her into a hug again. “Hey…don’t do that. It’s not fair. You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”
She tried to laugh but the crying won out, and pressed grateful kisses to his cheek. “Love you, little bro.”
“Love you too.”
Throttle and Modo looked at each other anxiously, unsure how to proceed. The tan mouse cleared his throat quietly. “Hey, um…we’ll give you two a minute alone hmm? We’ll be outside.”
He tried to catch Vinnie’s gaze, trying to confirm this suggestion. His bro gave the smallest of nods, and that was their queue to leave.
The shuffled out onto the weather-worn deck that had been built around the length of the trailer, the wooden slats of the sun-shield above them shielding them from the glare and heat of the midday sun, offering some much needed shade.
Jessie had arrived in a truck, the back filled with a couple bags and boxes, and a motorcycle. A silver and lavender colored dart of a speedster, good for racing and obviously custom designed.
“Well…my hangover is gone now. I think that shocked it out of me.” Modo admitted as they stood at the rail, taking in the desert sprawling around them. The Van Wham’s trailer was tucked back from the road, a short scrub trees and Martian cacti used to grow along the drive that lead to it. The place itself was not much to look at but the land around it had been the real draw. Wide spaces to race and ride, a small gulch not far behind them that the boys used to explore and camp in.
He looked to the other mouse, who’s face was drawn and tight. Still angry. He moved a little closer to him, arms folded across his broad chest. “Go on. Better get it out of your system now.”
Throttle sighed heavily, removing his glasses to rub at his eyes. “You aren’t a little upset that she pops up out of nowhere after all these years of letting us think she died? Of letting him think he was alone in the world?”
Modo’s lips thinned as he exhaled. “Yeah…it’s not ideal.”
“Not ideal?” Throttle snapped, again his anger prickling in ways that surprised them both. It was rare for something to get so under Throttle’s skin, but clearly this was one of them. “Did you forget those nights we sat up with him? Did you forget the extra-reckless behavior we had to curb?” He shook his head, staring back out at the desert. “None of us need that extra grief. There’s plenty to go around as is.”
Modo put his good hand on his bro’s back, rubbing lightly between the tense muscles. “But at least he had us, right?” He offered. It didn’t make it right of course. And Modo was not without his judgement on the matter. It had been needless stress and grief on Vinnie. And he was sure it would be reckoned with. But for the moment, he was focused on the small miracle of it. That she had come back. Displacement and separation was not uncommon at all among their people since the days of the occupation, and certainly the war. So many loved ones lost and scattered to the winds. But against the odds, Jessie had not been lost completely.
Throttle nodded, relenting that little bit. His ears perked, trying to catch wisps of conversation from beyond the closed door. There were mutterings of voices but nothing he could fully discern.
“Do you believe her? About being in the Out Flows all this time?”
“Guess so. They got hit hard and cut off early when it really kicked off. We were already with Stoke then, I think. Sometimes my memories get weird, looking back on it. Feels like ancient history and yesterday all at once.”
Throttle nodded. “I know exactly what you mean, big fella.”
“She looks good.” Modo mused, looking back through the window and the crooked blinds to glimpse the woman speaking with their bro.
Throttle followed his gaze and raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh?”
Modo blushed, as if realizing he had trailed off on that thought and let his stare do the rest of the talking for him. “I mean…she does, doesn’t she? She was always pretty.”
Throttle rolled his eyes, but smiled as he did so. “Childhood crush, comin’ in hot.”
His bro nudged him, “Hey now, I don’t bust your chops when you moon over Carbine do I?”
Throttle looked away, eyes on the horizon again. Modo wished he hadn’t said anything. That was a whole other situation that he did not envy in the slightest.
Movement then, the pair inside making towards the door. Vinnie barged through first, looking moody and a little frantic. “Come on bros. Let’s hit the road. I’ve got some energy to burn off.”
Jessie sighed, lingering near the door-frame as she followed him out. “You’ll come back though, right?”
Vinnie laughed harshly. “Wow, what a question!”
Her face tightened, more guilt rushing over her pretty features. She folded her arms across her chest, as if hugging herself. “Look, I’m not going to tell you not to be mad at me. I deserve that. But let’s at least talk about it.” She looked hopefully to the other pair, as if they might provide some mediation between them. “How about I get this place cleaned up and ya’ll come back tonight for some home cooking? I still remember how to make Mom’s casserole.”
Throttle shrugged, doing his best to be diplomatic. “Couldn’t hurt, I guess. Though you might need a hand tidying up the place. Been sitting empty awhile.”
Jessie looked mildly relieved at this. “Oh! Okay, that would explain it…honestly I thought you boys were just living like this.”
“I could stay behind, give ya a hand with the cleanup.” Modo offered suddenly, perhaps a little too eagerly. Throttle cocked his head, a little surprised at his bro’s ambition. But it seemed to allow Vinnie some assurance on the matter.
The white furred mouse considered, drumming his fingers on the rail of the porch. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan. We’ll be back in a few hours. Come on, bro.” He motioned to Throttle, who didn’t hesitate to follow, only pausing at the foot of steps to look back at Modo and Jessie with a careful, almost parental look. “Have a good time you two. And watch out for Vinnie’s laundry hamper. I think there’s ten years worth of crusty clothes in there.”
Jessie laughed and waved goodbye to them, deflating just a little when the pair straddled their bikes and road off in a rising cloud of dust and pebbles. She let her head fall back against the door-frame, arms still wrapped around herself and groaned quietly. “Shit…”
Modo looked at her sympathetically. “Just give him a little to digest it, Jess. He’ll come around.” He offered.
She looked at him, grateful. “Thanks. You were always such a sweetie, Maverick. I missed you.” She opened her arms and swept him into a hug, head on his shoulder. She giggled, remembering when they were the same height, once upon a time. “I can’t get over the way you’ve filled out!”
He blushed and smiled awkwardly. “Well…years of fightin’ will do that to you.”
Her eyes strayed to his bionic arm but she looked away again quickly, avoiding it. “Yeah, guess it will.” She leaned up on tip toes and kissed his cheek, and he went even red-er under his fur.
She gave him a little playful punch in his shoulder. “Well, come on, muscle mouse. Let’s whip this pile of bolts and paneling into shape!”
***
Chapter Text
***
The pair of the motorcycles streaked through the desert hard-pan along the gulch, kicking up tornadoes of dust in their wake. If anyone had causally observed them from afar, they might have thought the pair were desperately trying to escape some unforeseen danger. But the only thing that they were trying to outrun was Vinnie’s overwhelm of emotion. Despite the roar of their engines, Vinnie’s voice caught on the wind, even through barrier of his helmet visor.
Throttle tried his best to keep up with his bro, if not for the benefit of channeling his own frustration, than to keep Vinnie from losing control entirely. But Van Wham was going flat out, harder than they would have even for something like the Crater Leap or the Roadhouse Races.
“I can’t believe her! What kind of sociopath dips out for twenty years and acts like it’s nothing!?” He raged through his com. “I thought she was dead! What else was I suppose to think! And she just comes waltzing in like she just went out for milk or something!?”
“Must have been some special kind of milk…” Throttle attempted, but Vinnie ignored his attempt to diffuse him with humor.
“I mean—if I hadn’t decided to crash at the trailer last night—was she just gonna go about her business, not even try to contact me!? Would I have even known she was back!?”
“Hard to say…”
Vinnie’s bike kicked harder, the engine screaming as she seemed to streak ahead of him by yards in only a few seconds.
“Vinnie, go easy! Cherry’s gonna have a hard time of it if you burn her damn wheels off!”
“You know what, fuck her! I don’t need her! I didn’t need her for twenty years, why the fuck should I start now!? She wants to dip out and go her own way that’s just fine-by-me!” he shouted, punching extra emphasis on the last three words. Trying to make them true by force alone.
“Yeah you sound totally cool about it…”
He glanced at Lady’s control panel and realized they were easily about to clear 115 mph. While the bikes had—going at their most brutal—reached 150, Throttle knew he had to slow things down.
Gritting his teeth, he punched his own gas and streaked hard along side Vinnie, swerving in front of him and forcing Vinnie to drop back to avoid him.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” The white furred mouse howled, the sound piercing through the speakers of the helmet com making the tan mouse cringe.
“Trying to keep you from becoming a food for buzzards, hot shot, the terrains getting a little rough!”
Vinnie muttered something and cut back in front of him, streaking ahead towards a small ridge that flowed into the gulch beyond. “You’re just pussin’ out—I know what I’m—”
All it took was a crack in the hard-pan. The size of pothole. Cherry bounced in the sudden dip, loosing her traction and was up and airborne, along with her rider. Vinnie shouted in fear in spite himself, bucked from his ride. He knew the impact he was about to make with the ground was going to fuck him up royally.
But he never hit it. Throttle’s arm was suddenly hooked against his middle, pulling him against him as he and Lady tried to compensate for the extra weight—hitting the ground in a hard slide, the tan mouse only managing by a hair to keep balance and set them both upright. His tires were smoking, melted rubber tracks left against the copper colored ground.
Cherry had skidded close to the edge of the ridge and was lying on her side. Dusted, scraped and slightly dented but not done for. She made a whining sort of beeping noise in dismay before going quiet.
“Whoa…” Vinnie panted, realizing how close he had come to dumping himself down a forty foot rocky drop into a very shallow river bed below, all at break-neck speed.
For a brief second Throttle’s arm seemed locked around him like a vice, with no intention of letting go of him. Then he was pushed away, making him stumble to stay on his feet.
“Dammit Vincent!” The tan mouse howled at him, pulling off his helmet in frustration and throwing it to the ground as he dismounted from Lady. “Explain to me how getting yourself killed is gonna make you feel better?!”
For a moment Vinnie said nothing, catching his breath and slightly reeling from the shift in emotions while he was still flooded with adrenaline. “I mean…I’ll be dead? Kinda cancels out all my problems by that logic.”
They stared at each other, caught between outrage and absurdity. Throttle sputtered on a curse, but eventually devolved into a sort of shocked laughed, unable to help himself. And seeing him laugh made Vinnie laugh too. The rush of energy bubbling out of them any way it could.
Throttle clapped a hand to his forehead, raking his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, every time you make me so mad I wanna choke you, you turn around and say something so dumb that I forget all about it…”
“It’s my secret defense. Be so charming they can’t kill you.” Vinnie answered. But his chuckles and giggles had a harsher, sharper note to them. And as they gasped, Throttle saw his eyes become wet and the laughs begin to devolve into cries.
Vinnie snarled, and hide his face in his hands. “Fuck!”
Throttle was beside him instantly, pulling him in. “I’ve got you.”
He didn’t need to say it, but it was nice to hear it all the same. They stood together for a long time, Vinnie leaning into the embrace and Throttle saying nothing. Just keeping him upright. The sound of the desert began to filter back to them, no longer drowned out by screaming or the sound engines roaring. Distant bird song from the gulch below. The faint trickle of the shallow sluggish riverbed. Small animals shifting in the midday heat. The world continuing to turn no matter the small heartbreaks and dramas of its inhabitants.
Finally, Vinnie pulled free of the other mouse’s arms, wiping his face as he turned away and attempting to compose himself. “Shit, sorry…got sand in my eye or something.”
Throttle nodded, letting him have his excuse. He turned his attention to Cherry, and Lady who had driven herself over beside the fallen bike as if to inspect her. Concerned for her sister bike in an imitation of his concern for Vinnie.
He moved to examine the red racer, “Poor girl. If you were looking for an excuse to give her a fresh paint job, now you’ve got one I guess.” He moved to pull her upright as Vinnie came along side him, cautiously running his hands along her, checking for any serious damage.
Luckily other than some scraping and a dented side mirror, Cherry had escaped remarkably unscathed. “I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to play so rough with ya. I’ll buff you all out all shiny and new soon as we hit the garage, give a good wax job…”
“You know taken out of context this all sounds really inappropriate.” Throttle muttered, and Vinnie choked on another unexpected laugh.
“Pervert.”
“You’re the one going on about wax jobs.” Throttle countered. They sounded like kids bantering back and forth instead of the middle aged Mice they were. And in truth they felt like kids then too. The world feeling too big to cope with at times.
Throttle turned his gaze across north, to a patch of faded green that sat tucked against a rock formation, creating a lip that over looked the gulch below. It had a spectacular view at certain times of day, and it’s protected position allowed the plants and short scrub trees that grew there to thrive despite the dryness of the land around it.
It housed a small community cemetery. One of the boys knew well.
Vinnie followed his gaze, seeming to read his thoughts. He dusted Cherry off and tested her engine and she started up again without hesitation, seeming ready for more of whatever he could dish out.
“Come on. We’re overdue for a visit.”
It was not a particularly old cemetery, only going back a few generations. This area outside Brimstone had fewer settlers, more land between them, and many of the clans and families that had later come to occupy the area had moved into the city proper, and were buried within it’s walls.
It was the greenest bit of land for miles, like most Martian burial land. Monuments and stones with family names and clan markings were evident, but there were no caskets, no stone tombs below the surface holding the bones of those already gone by. When you died, you went back to the land, the cycle of life, death and renewal uninterrupted. Simple as that. Only the freshly dead would have left much of a trace in the ground below. But the gift of the dead was all around them in the new green that was growing. Soft grass. Flowers. Rich soil and budding trees. An oasis among the battle scared desert.
Vinnie’s parents graves were among some of the newer additions. Their stones were still clean of moss or growth and the engraved names clear and easy to read. Vinnie crouched in front of them, gazing speculatively at the names.
“Well…guess I can stop beating myself up about not adding Jessie’s name to the stone then. Knock that off my to-do list.” He sighed. He spied the few flowers—freshly cut—that had been left beside the stones. There was no question that it was Jessie who had left them. “She must have stopped here before she came to the trailer.”
“Paying respects.” Throttle noted. He didn’t say that she had probably been checking to see if Vinnie’s name had been added. “You know she really didn’t seem to recognize us when she came to the door. Could be she thought maybe you’d died in the war, same as we thought she did.”
“Why wasn’t she sad then?”
“Well, it has been over a decade, bro. You were expecting her to show up in a black veil?”
“It would have been nice, yeah.”
Throttle rolled his eyes but smiled, squeezing Vinnie’s shoulder lightly as they looked at the names of the former Van Wham’s etched on the rust-colored headstone. Van Wham--Jay Dam and Sea Sparrow--Kind, Courageous and Willing. Forever Missed.
“Still remember the day of the accident. She held me for hours. It was like she was afraid if she let me go, I’d die too.” Vinnie mused, the memory bubbling to the surface.
“I know. It was a hard day.” Throttle agreed. They were young then. Not boys exactly but not men yet either. Too soon to lose a parent, much less both of them at once. Vinnie put his hand over his bro’s, grateful for his sturdiness.
“Damn…I know I should be happy she’s alright. And I am. I just…still don’t know why she left the way she did.”
“Maybe she didn’t intend to be gone so long. It was before the shit really hit the fan here. Maybe she meant to come back sooner…just didn’t work out.”
“Yeah well…guess we have that in common don’t we.” He tried to laugh. “Dunno. Maybe I’m overreacting.”
“Well…it’s shitty, I’ll give you that. I know communication hasn’t been fully restored across the regions but you would have thought she’d heard something about us still kicking around still. She did say she heard stories about us. You’d think she’d try to reach out, even if there was a possibility.”
“Must have been war stories, not ones from Earth.” Vinnie mused. He blinked then, suddenly brightening, as if hit with new inspiration. “Hey, yeah! She doesn’t know about all our righteous adventures in Chi-town! Oooh, just wait till she hears how little ‘Vinnie the Ninny’’s been out saving the galaxy while she’s been bumming it in the Out Flows! HA!”
Throttle blinked at him. “What, now you’re just pumped to rub your high-light reels in her face?”
“Well yeah of course! She seems to be laboring under the delusion that I was some washout after the invasion. But oh man, I gotta set the record straight on that!”
Throttle winced, removing his specs to rub the bridge of his muzzle. “Oh my gods…”
“What?”
“A minute ago you were in pieces because your sister appeared out of nowhere without an apology after blowing you off for twenty years, and now you’re just…what…fine with it? Because you feel like you can get one up on her?”
Vinnie blinked, not understanding the question. “Well I mean…kinda.”
Throttle sighed long and loud, walking past him. “You’re hopeless, Vincent. Absolutely hopeless.”
Vinnie watched him as he drifted off, walking over several spots to less recent plot closer to the outer rim of cemetery. There was no shade here, but from its vantage point you could see well into the gulch, and in the evenings you could see the sunset over the rocks, and the stars bright and clear at night. There was a dusting of flowers among the grass, growing in little patches. The flowers were small, and nearly translucently white. Too delicate to pick, but pretty to look at.
The tan mouse folded his arms across his chest as he gazed at the stone before him, the names new and old engraved into its cracked surface. His father’s name; Evander, Axel, beside the more recent addition of his mother; Evander, Rosemary “Rosie”. Beneath two other names, written before either of the parents. The sons that had come before him, born sickly and passing too soon, having lived only a few short days. Smoke and Aias : Lost but Beloved.
Being the third born but the only surviving of his older siblings made for an interesting dynamic in the Evander household. It had always seemed in those early years that the ghosts of those lost children had lingered in the home with them. A void never filled. So despite being the only child, he never grew up with that unique perspective of having his parent’s sole attention. Maybe it made him lonelier in a way. More eager to make friends. And he may have never known those siblings, but he certainly found ample replacements.
He stood there quietly in front of the grave for awhile, thinking. Mulling over his own feelings on Jessie’s return. There was relief of course. And it was always a blessing that one of more of them had survived the Plutarkian’s attempted genocide. But that relief was tempered with his own anger. Anger for the pain Vinnie had been put through. Anger for needless grief. And…quietly, privately…a secret jealousy.
He felt Vinnie come to stand behind him, throwing an arm around one shoulder and resting his chin on the other, forcing Throttle to adjust his balance so that they didn’t both tip forward.
“Gosh…sometimes I forget she’s gone. Your mom, I mean.”
Throttle nodded mutely.
He waited for Vinnie to jabber on about something, to try to make some joke or continue his scheme of how he was going to even things out with Jessie. But he didn’t. He shared that quiet with him, that reverent stillness.
They had shared plenty of things over their long years together. But this bond had been unique to only them. To know what it is to be the last of your family. The last of your line, until fate or circumstance chose different. Modo had lost a father yes. And later a brother in law. And that pain was heartfelt and shared among them. But he had others to return to, to hold him and welcome him with open arms, always. They were envious. Though they never lacked for warmth and love from that same family, who took them in as one of their own.
And they would always be grateful. Just as they were of Stoker, who had done the same for them. The father figure that all three shared and loved equally—if in their own way.
But the burial plots and the headstones would not be expunged. The homes they’d been born into had become places they could never return to. And that was a different kind of sadness.
“I miss her.” Vinnie said finally, honestly.
Throttle nodded again, feeling a familiar burn in both his eyes and his throat. He didn’t trust himself to speak. So many years later and he could not predict when the thought of them, of her, would pass quietly through him or bring him to tears.
Vinnie squeezed against him in a half hug. “I was her favorite, you know.”
Throttle laughed again, the sound a sudden shocked bark escaping him. He shrugged the white furred mouse off, swatting at him playfully. “Oh sure, she just loved when you’d come over and eat us out of house and home.”
Vinnie grinned and shrugged. “Hey, I was a growing mouse.”
They turned their gazes back across the hard-pan, towards the faint outline of the trailer they could see in the far distance through the haze of sun and passing clouds.
“So…what do we do?”
“Hard to say.” The tan mouse mused. “You uh, do remember that Modo used to have a massive crush on your sis when we were kids, don’t ya?”
Vinnie blinked. “What? Nah…I mean it wasn’t anything serious. Just boys being boys…”
His bro rocked thoughtfully on his heels. “Hmmm, maybe. But uh, he sure did seem kinda eager to stay behind and help with clean up.”
“That’s just Modo and his weird chivalry thing.”
Throttle stared at him silently over the rim of his specs. Vinnie somehow paled under his already stark white fur. “No…noooo…she’s way too old for him!”
“She’s five years older than you, Vinnie.”
“Yeah exactly!”
“That makes her only a year older than Modo.”
Vinnie’s face contorted, doing the mental math and looked more worried as he glanced back to the trailer. “Yeah…but so what? It’s bro code; you don’t date each other’s family members. Modo knows that. No way he would make a move.” He assured himself.
Throttle rolled his eyes. “’Bro Code’ huh? Are we twelve?” He started to walk away, moving back to where the bikes waited at the edge of the cemetery. “Besides, if it’s such a sacred truth, then why did you try hitting on Sweep that one time?”
“I was drunk!!” Vinnie howled, hurrying to follow after him. “Besides…Sweep could crush me with her thighs.” He let a little giggle slip out, “…not gonna say that ain’t kinda hot.”
“I’m telling Modo you said that.”
***
Chapter Text
***
The pair moved through the trailer automatically, setting about tasks each had done hundreds of times before. Stripping bedding and dragging it out to be washed in the ancient washer and dryer unit that sat tucked in a closet in the narrow hall between the living room and the bedrooms.
The carpeting was discolored and needed replaced, but for the moment a heavy sweeping would take care of the dust and grime. Counter tops and surfaces were soaped down, same for windows and doors. Every window and door that could be open was, allowing it all to air out.
To Jessie it was something of a grind. Being here, doing this menial tasks was triggering a lot of old memories for her. And the more she cleaned, the more she seemed to trip over little forgotten pieces of this life she had left behind.
Pictures and little trinkets stuffed inside drawers. One of her mother’s lost rings. A pretty tiger-eye set in copper. She slipped it on her finger and admired the way it stood out so bright against her fur. Her dad’s multi-tool lying on the counter next to the refrigerator. Such small things, but so loaded with their personalities.
Modo came in from hanging the heavy comforters from the beds outside on the clothesline and found her standing there in the kitchen mutely, turning that multi-tool over in her hands, eyes misty and sniffling.
“Hey…” He moved in cautiously. “Everything alright?”
She blinked hard and tried to look away from him, not wanting him to see the mist in her eyes. Not that he couldn’t smell the tears that had already slipped out. “Yeah, yeah! Just…funny how you forget about little things like this, isn’t it?” She forced a smile and looked back at him at last, showing him the tool. “We got him this for Long Night one year, and he was so stupidly obsessed with it. Wanted to use for everything. Went out of his way to use it. It was so annoying, but so funny. I think it’s just a knife, a screwdriver and a bottle opener.”
Modo shrugged, “Sounds pretty useful to me.” He nodded. “I’m sure he just wanted you to know he appreciated it.”
“Do you remember our dad at all?”
“A little.” Modo mused. “To be honest, him and your mama being away was half the reason we spent so much time with Vinnie.”
“Yeah…restless kid. He jumped at the chance to go out tumbling with you and Throttle, trying to get your necks broken riding that canyon.” She shook her head, tucking a long loose strand of hair back behind her ear as it slipped from the bun she had tucked it into.
“Well, as I recall, you were out riding those same canyons. Getting into your own trouble.”
She blushed. “Sometimes, yeah…” She looked him up and down, still reconciling the teenaged image of him in her mind with he grown man in front of her. “You saw me there? At those races?”
Modo had turned to her, was dusting an old lampshade in the sitting area. “Maybe.”
She smiled to herself. “Little Modo Maverick, were you sneaking out to watch the big boys?”
He looked back at her over his shoulder. “I wasn’t so little. I was sixteen. Just a year younger than you.”
She considered this, “Wow…yeah I guess that’s right. I guess I just…always thought of you as younger for some reason.” She looked down at the tool in her hands. “Maybe I just felt older.”
She knew this was the truth of the matter. She hadn’t felt like a teen or a young woman. She had felt older than her mother most days. While her parents went out on adventures, continued to live the lives of two love-sick kids who saw only each other and their goals, she had been left home to take care of Vinnie and herself. She had never doubted her parents love for them, never. But their priorities were deeply misguided. She had grown up too fast as a result. Much too fast.
Her gaze turned out the kitchen window again, looking way back across the expanse of flatland towards the gulch and canyon beyond. Modo noticed how her fingers drummed anxiously against the tool. “What happened to his face?” she asked quietly.
“Battle accident.” Modo answered. “It’s flex-plate shielding. Makes a protective covering for him.”
“Doesn’t hurt him, does it?”
“Naw,” Modo chuckled. “No, no. Just something else for him to polish really. He think it makes him look hardcore.”
“Sounds like Vinnie.” She chuckled. Her eyes drifted towards his arm, and he turned back to his chores, feeling self-conscious again.
“Did…you get that in the same accident?”
Modo nodded but didn’t offer any other answer. He did not want to talk about this right now. Some days it was easier than others. Right now was not one of them. He reached for the sweeper and clicked it on, dragging it back and forth across the rug between the couch and the arm chair. Lifting the edge of the couch and tipping it up by a good foot so he could sweep under it.
Jessie watched the way he did this as easily as if it were a folding chair and felt a little flutter of excitement in her. Damn, he lifts and he cleans. Quite the package.
She tucked the tool into her pocket and turned her attention to the fridge. What was inside was sad and mildly disgusting. A few jarred goods, bottles of beer and soda, and one sad, clearly-past-it’s-prime, fruit. The frozen—now thawed—hashbrowns Throttle had discovered earlier were still resting on the counter, and the ones in the pan were half cooked, waiting to be finished.
“So when you’re not crashing in this pile of aluminum and bolts, where are you boys staying?” she asked him once the roar of the vacuum had quieted again.
“Oh, here and there. We tend to move around a lot. Sometimes we crash at Mama’s up the road here. Some times with Stoker.”
She brightened suddenly. “Stoker’s still kickin around!?”
“Uh, yeah? Or at least he was last week. Don’t tell me you thought he was dead too.”
“Last I heard he was captured, doing time somewhere.”
Modo laughed. “Oh geez, old news, girl. Old news. My nephew sprung him from Plutarkian prison ages ago, he’s been kicking around since. Right now he’s helping Bowie run his place, but he’s been in talks with the big wigs at the Catherda lately. They want to bring him in as a consultant on things, give him a say in how Brimstone runs going forward.”
“Sounds like a lot of commitment.” She mused, seeming only half interested. She turned at last to him and sighed heavily. “I hate to say it but there’s not much to work with here.” She looked disappointed. But Modo just smiled back at her.
“No problem there! How about I zip up the road to Mama’s, get a few things from the pantry? We’ve got a surplus of harvest right now, sure she won’t mind us taking some.”
“You really don’t mind?” She batted her big pretty eyes at him and the mouse felt his heart do a little flutter in spite of the obviousness of it.
“No ma’am. Don’t mind at all.” He replied back, and this time it was Jessie that felt the little flutter, hearing both the deem rumble of his voice and the sweet sincerity in it. He moved towards the door, “Wanna ride over with me?”
The woman considered a moment, feeling a little tingle of excitement and warmth in her belly at the idea. But she shook her head. “Maybe next time, big fella. I’m gonna stay here and finish up, maybe catch a shower. Wash some of this dust off.”
Modo looked slightly disappointed but nodded. “Alright then. Won’t be long, maybe 20 minutes.” He gave her a careful look then. “You’ll be here when I get back right?”
Jessie blinked, looking surprised. But Modo thought she looked a little more like a kid caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. “Of course silly!”
He nodded, then excused himself, stepping off the porch with he screen door making its tell-tale whaap behind him, hinges screaming. He hesitated a moment on the steps, deciding his next move. He spotted Jessie’s bike waiting there off to the side of his, loaded with a duffel-pack and a bundle or two, tethered to the bike. The girl traveled light.
He rolled their conversation over in his head, everything they had talked about, and realized they hadn’t talked about much at all really. Clearly Jessie hadn’t come here on the off chance she might find her long-lost brother, or even to revisit an old haunt. Their presence here had clearly thrown her off.
So…if she wasn’t here for family, what was she here for?
Modo moved to Lil Hoss and straddled her uneasily. The bike gave a welcoming little beep, giving an excited rev and he patted her gently. “We’re going, little Darlin’, don’t worry.” He glanced back at Jessie bike for a moment more, considering. “Something about this whole situation just isn’t sitting right…” he stroked her chasse absently. “What do you think it is, hmm?”
Lil’ Hoss gave a few low beeps back, which Modo took to mean she was as stumped on the matter as he was. “Well, think we can get to Mama’s, grab some grub and make it back here before those other two slow-pokes mosey on home?”
At that she revved again and he grinned, taking off in a small cloud of red dust.
Inside, Jessie waited until she heard the sound of the bike peeling off before she moved towards the screen door, scanning the yard. She could see the multiple tire tracks and saw the small distant dust cloud where Modo was barreling off down the trail towards the main road and his family farm beyond.
She moved quickly then, darting from the living room down the short hall to the bedroom on the right hand side of Vinnie’s. The door stuck momentarily in the jam and came open with a shudder and she got a breath of hot, closed off air that made her sneeze and crinkle her nose. Her own bedroom was not so unlike her brother’s. Small and cluttered with the things of their youth. She had her own motocross posters, band posters. Pictures from days gone by. A boutique of flowers still hung upside down by the window, dried in the sunlight to preserve them. Pink Seed plants and Daisies.
But she didn’t spend time going over the trappings of her youth. She hadn’t unsealed the vault of this place for that purpose. She moved inside to her bed, pulling it away from the wall. There was a visible line left on the wallpaper where the headboard had slowed the fading process. Jessie felt along the seams in the paneling beneath the paper and quickly found what she had been looking for. Her nails dug into he seam and the paper gave way along with a loose bit of paneling. Inside, tucked safely in a dry-wall cubby was a box.
With effort, Jessie pulled it free from it’s hiding place, wiping the dust and cobwebs from it. Sitting it down on her lap, she paused to listen, her ears twitching. Making sure that no one was inside or outside the mobile home.
Her heart fluttered, anxious. She told herself it was paranoia. That no one would expect her to come here, and no one had followed her. She had been sure of that. Taking the most round about way here possible and delaying herself by a full day to be sure she would lose anyone who might be tailing her.
But the threat persisted in her mind, and with good reason.
Finally sure that no one else was around, she opened the box carefully. Inside there was an assortment of trinkets. More photos, some of her mother’s good jewelry—a necklace and a pair of cuff bracelets that were real silver and turquoise, a few folded and age-crisp pieces of paper. Notes she’d saved over the years. To whom she no longer remembered readily. And underneath…wrapped in plastic wrap—Plutarkian Gold Gills.
The bright, gaudy looking squares—shaped like floppy discs—looked up at her accusingly. Jessie felt her stomach turn over as she looked at them. There was at least half a dozen there. No fortune by any standard, but what probably equaled a thirty thousand dollars here on Mars. Enough to pay her debt.
She looked around again, half expecting someone to bust in on her with a weapon. But the trailer was still empty. She hung her head, fingers digging into the sides of the dusty little box. She didn’t know how to feel in this moment.
She had imagined some relief, finding the box untouched and right where she had stashed it six months ago. She hadn’t been sure it, or even the trailer itself, would still be here. It was a small miracle that no one had looted or raided it in all the time that it had sat empty. Perhaps with it being so close to The Maverick’s land, they had kept an eye on it over the years. That wouldn’t have surprised them. Their family had always been looking out for hers.
Was it possible, if Vinnie had been kicking around and been back here before, that he would have found it?
But she pushed that thought away almost immediately. If her brother knew she had Plutarkian money stashed here, he would have probably burned the place down just out of spite. She wouldn’t have blamed him. It was blood money, essentially.
Guilt twisted in her, bringing a sour taste to her mouth. Things were not supposed to work out this way. Leaving home was supposed to give her freedom and purpose. Let her do something with her life, instead of being trapped here looking after others and fading into general obscurity. She laughed at herself, realizing the hypocrisy of that want. She hadn’t wanted to take care of other people…yet she had become a nurse. She had joined a band of rebel smugglers, who had their own band of bikers, their own kind of Freedom Fighters on the coast, and looked after all their bumps and bruises. Revived them after they got caught in a firefight or a sting operation.
The girl who didn’t want to be responsible for anyone but herself had made herself responsible for an awful lot of people. Not all necessarily good ones either.
She looked up helplessly at the small dusty room, and had the same spinning dreadful thought her brother had had only a few hours ago while sitting in his. What was she doing with her life?
She closed the box again, dimming the glare of the gold gills and letting herself breathe a little, trying to stay rational. The boys being here was definitely a kink in her original plan, but perhaps this worked in her favor. It gave her a good cover for being here, and no one from her new life knew about her roots. That she had a brother, or any roots. Much less ones tied to such big names in the rebellion.
The boys would make a good cover. She could go about town without being overly noticed, check to see if some of old contacts were still around. Someone she could rely on to convert this blood money for her. There was always avenues of such trade if you knew where to look. Then she could settle down, catch her breath. Try to rebuild things with Vinnie.
The idea of it made her heart swell with something. Hope? Excitement? Nervousness? Could it really be that easy, after everything?
It felt dangerous to dream.
Sighing, she tucked the box and its evidence back into it’s hiding spot, secure and safe for the moment. She rose from the floor, feeling her nerves getting the better of her, making her jaw quiver and his knees shake. She was so close to this nightmare being done with, of putting all her bad decisions behind her. She just needed to hold out a little longer.
Trying to shake the anxiety from her, she padded her way from the bedroom into the compact bathroom. The place still had the faint lingering smell of cleaning supplies used liberally to cover the vomit smell from the night before. She tested the water in the tub/shower, ignoring the rust build up around the facet and drain. The pipes shuddered and after a moment the water began to squirt out in rough bursts before finally gaining consistent pressure.
She peeled herself out of her clothing and stepped into the spray, gasping at the contact and turning the heat all the way up. She needed something to ease her muscles, to melt the tension as best it could. It stung at her skin, fur growing heavy with it, but she didn’t’ care. Alone, and under the muffling spray of water, she let herself finally cry.
**
It had taken Modo longer than he had planned to gather everything. Mostly because he was attempting to dodge Sweep’s noisy questions throughout, while simultaneously avoiding his mother’s knowing looks.
He swore at times she was an actual mind reader, that something was always buzzing between those antenna of hers, letting her pick up on everyone’s inner thoughts even at a distance. Sweep reminded him, sharply, that he and the boys had promised to help around the farm in the next few days. There was plenty to harvest and bring in before the spring storms started, and she would need all the hands she could get it.
Modo promised again and again they would be there, but she seemed dubious. More so when his mother had causally walked up to them, and given Modo one of the many hand-made quilts she had made over the years. “Add this to the pile.’ She said.
Her children blinked between her and the proffered item. The quilt was pink and green and very floral and smelled of scented soaps. It was not something she would typically offer to one of her rough riding boys.
“What’s this for?”
The old woman blinked back at him serenely. “Well, I imagine your lady friend will want something that doesn’t smell like axel grease to cuddle up with while she’s there.”
Modo went pink. Sweep’s head swiveled on her neck to stare at her brother. “You three have a girl over there?” she gasped, accusingly.
“I never said—” he stammered.
“You didn’t have to. I saw her ride up that way this morning while I was on my walk.”
“You mean you were spying.” Her son corrected.
She looked at him, unbothered, still smiling. “Like I said, on my walk.”
“Mama…”
“Where in the hell did you find a girl that would be willing to shack up in that rust-heap? Let me guess, Vinnie met a girl at the races and brought her home to keep trying to impress her…” Sweep sighed.
Modo cringed. “She’s not anyone’s girlfriend! It’s Jessie…”
It took a moment for the two women to recognize the name, the realization dawning on them at the same time. Modo did not want to tell his sister how much she mirrored their mother then, but it was uncanny.
“Jessica Van Wham? But I thought…gods, I thought we lost her years ago.”
“So did we.” Modo nodded. “Vinnie’s trying to adjust to the news. Throttle and I have it covered, and I’ll beg you both kindly to keep your noses out of it. Let the girl breathe before you flock in there with your questions.”
Sweep picked up a hefty bag of potatoes from the pantry floor where they were all gathered and slung it—none too gently—into her brother’s arms. “Fine. But when the poor girl can’t stand another minute of your horseplay and antics, you send her our way. Sure she’ll be glad to not have to listen to your belching contests.” She teased.
Mama Maverick seemed pensive however, something that caught both her children by surprise.
“…gone such a long time. And to come out of the blue like that. No letter, no calls asking about her family. Seems strange.”
Modo nodded. “Yeah…I thought so too. But these things happen. Guess she’s been in the Out Flows all this time, working as an emergency medical tech. Sure that was some hard living for her.”
Sweep nodded. “Well…if anyone could make a living out there, it would be Jessie. She was always a tough cookie. Those Van Whams, tougher than horned-beast leather and twice as stubborn.”
She turned back to the large pantry, rooting for a minute and then pulled out a box tucked way in the back behind several tall jars and put it on top of the growing heap in Modo’s arms. “Give her these. A little welcome home present.”
Modo eyed the box, realizing they were the last of the homemade candies from the winter before. Sweep must have been saving them. He nodded to her, giving her that knowing smile he always did when she exposed her softer side. “I’m sure she’ll like them.”
Lil’ Hoss has been loaded with goods, all placed in a crate and strapped to the back of her to make the short ride from one property to the other. There was still no sign of Throttle and Vinnie, and he figured it was just as well.
He carried the grate back up the rickety porch steps and made his way inside. The place already looked and smelled a ton better than it had the night before. Looking almost fully inhabitable again. “I’m back!”
No answer.
Modo walked with the crate and set it down on the kitchen table, blinking around for some sign of their house guest. He heard the water running, and realized she must be in the shower. Glad at least she hadn’t taken off again, he set to work putting away the new groceries and sorting through what he thought they might need for the night.
He carefully draped the quilt his mother had sent over across the back of one of the kitchen chairs, not wanting it to get wrinkled or dirty. When quiet in the house became too much, he turned to the radio perched in the corner of the counters and turned it up. Rock music flooded the trailer and drifted through the open windows and doors, filtering into the air outside.
Jessie only became aware of the din of it when the water stopped running. At first it startled her, and she stood frozen in the shower, watching the door, straining to hear voices or footsteps. Her heart began to hammer lightly inside her chest and she looked around for something to defend herself with that was easily in reach. She still had a stunner hidden in her clothing, but if someone decided to shoot through the door at her, or bust in, she would likely not reach it in time.
The nearest thing she could grab was a plunger, and as ridiculous as she felt, she wasn’t taking any chances. She stepped slowly from the tub, moving towards the door. She could hear movement but not directly outside. There was too much steam and the smell of soap and cleaning product for her to easily detect other scents.
Cautiously, she tested the door knob, peeking outside through the sliver between it and the door frame. The music grew louder, no longer muffled by the door. But she couldn’t see anyone directly in front of her.
After a few moments, she reached and grabbed her underwear, her shirt and the stunner from it’s holster. She pulled the t-shirt on over her wet fur, the panties as well, and then moved into the hallway, hands gripping her weapon.
There was nothing behind her, no movement or change from the bedrooms. But there was plenty of movement from the main living area. Moving down the hall, staying as much in shadow as possible, she scanned for threats.
Modo had his back to her, doing a little sway and dance with the beat of the tune—Jessie thought it might something from AC/DC—while he tucked away items in cabinets and discarded others on the table.
Her heart was still hammering as she watched him, realizing she was not about to be attacked. She lowered her weapon slowly, leaning against the wall. Her long hair dripping down her back and shoulders and making little puddles on the hardwood floor of the hall. She stared at this easy, calm domesticity like she didn’t recognize it.
Such things had not been part of her every day for years now. Not even at home with her partner, if you could call him that. She had been completely ready to have someone try to jump her in the tub, to have someone start screaming at her, drunk and throwing fists…
But there was only Modo.
He turned then, spotting her out of the blue. He yelped in surprise, and his reaction startled her in return.
Jessie dropped her weapon fully, letting it clatter to the floor. She stepped back as if to make a hasty retreat from the other mouse, but her foot slipped in the water, the floor devilishly slick under her feet.
She cursed and fell backward, hitting the floor hard on her butt. She yelped again, and Modo was suddenly in front of her. “Are you okay!?”
She blinked up at him, jittery with adrenaline and embarrassment and surprise at his genuine concern. “You scared the shit out of me!” she yelped at him.
“Clearly!” Modo gasped, eyes darting from her to the gun on the floor beside her.
Jessie reached for it but Modo pulled it away first, examining it and securing the safety on it before tucking it aside on a nearby shelf, just out of her reach. “You always take a weapon with you to the bathroom?” he asked her.
She blinked back at him and then gestured to his bionic arm. “I mean…don’t you?”
Modo stared at her flatly. “Ha ha.”
“Sorry…”
They were both suddenly very aware of how sheer her shirt had become thanks to the wetness of her fur. Modo’s cheeks burned red under his fur and he did his best to look away. “Um…let me get you a towel or something.”
Jessie blushed too, but didn’t move to cover herself. She wasn’t sure why. The way he looked at her, but also didn’t, gave her a little rush in her belly, adding to the initial attraction she’d felt before.
Modo moved and grabbed the quilt off the back of the chair, returning to drape it around the woman as he helped her stand up. “There…don’t want ya catchin’ a chill.”
Jessie was not at all worried about that, as she suddenly felt like she was back in the shower steam. Modo was so careful not to ogle her, and had wrapped the blanket around her gently. Didn’t shove it at her, or demand she cover herself. Or even the opposite; trying to tear it off her. For such a big tough looking guy there was something so soft about him.
“Thanks.” She hugged the blanket around herself, fully wrapped in it like burrito.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Oh, uh, Mama sent it over. I guess she saw you ride in this morning.” He explained, his words a little clumsy as he was still recovering from basically being flashed and possibly shot.
Jessie’s blush deepened. “Wow…been a long time since I’ve seen your Mama. How’s she doing?”
“Oh, she’ll out live us all I think. Sweep says hi too. She packed you something as a welcome home present.”
Jessie blinked. Somehow that phrase sat strangely with her. Made her want to bolt. She looked skittishly at the door, as though she were thinking of her next move. It was something Modo didn’t fail to notice.
Tentatively he put his arms on her shoulders, as if trying to steady her. “Jess…are you in some kind of trouble?”
She blinked up at him, suddenly rigid and confused. She licked her lips slowly as she sought for some diplomatic answer to the question. Modo leaned a little closer, pushing her wet hair out of her face.
She was so pretty. He had always thought so. And in her worry, she looked strangely young to him. Reminding him too much of his teenage crush. “Listen, I know it’s been a long time, but we’re still here for you. If there’s something you need help with, all you need to do is say so.”
“That’s very noble of you, Maverick.” She teased gently. “That what you boys do? Ride from place to place, helpin’ ladies in distress?” she giggled softly, one hand drifting out from the protection the blanket to rub his good arm. “Just like those old Westerns you and the boys used to watch together?”
There was something low and flirtatious in her voice then that was making Modo grow more and more pink under his fur. She leaned a little closer to him, and he could smell the soap on her skin and fur, feel the heat coming off her from the shower.
Heat dropped into his lower belly and began to pool downward, and now he was the one who was considering bolting. This was…intense.
“Are you a lady in distress?” he asked, still trying to get to the point, though he was growing more and more distracted.
Jessie didn’t answer. Still holding back. Not ready to show her hand.
Modo was about to try again, when the woman closed the small gap between them, leaning up and kissing him. First on the cheek, near the corner of his mouth, then fully on the lips. Modo’s remaining eye blinked in surprise, all of him feeling electric for a moment.
Jessie pulled back a breath, looking at him cautiously. Seeming to wait for permission, or to be told to back off. Part of Modo’s brain flashed a warning light, telling him to back off, that this was too sudden and really just a distraction.
But it didn’t matter. He leaned into her this time, drawing her back, returning the kiss. Jessie sighed against his lips, clinging to him lightly. Modo felt the press of her near nakedness against him, the quilt drifting to the floor.
Want, and the realiziation of how long it had been since he’d been with anyone, hit him like a sledgehammer and he pulled her closer, his own clothing starting to absorb the residual wetness of her fur. Their kiss deepened and Modo was sure she could feel that he was starting to stiffen in his jeans. She was so warm and soft against him and…
He pulled back with effort, both of them panting. “Jessie…”
The way he said her name made something in her quiver. That low soft rumble of his voice like low thunder in the distance. Her heartbeat had picked up again but not from fear this time.
“It’s okay…” she coaxed, stroking his cheek and keeping herself pressed close, knowing he could feel her through his shirt, wanting him to. She moved one hand from his back to slide down his hip and inward, wanting to tease him. But his hand caught hers.
She tensed for a moment in the grip, but it was not harsh. “I’m sorry…this is just…it’s too fast.” Modo admitted.
Jessie felt a new heat replace her lust. Shame burned in her again, familiar and hateful. She closed her eyes in embarrassment and bowed her head. “Shit, I’m sorry.” she mumbled. She pulled back, eager to retreat now, trying to hide herself. “I’m sorry I just got swept up in the…” She covered her mouth, trying to stifle embarrassed, angry tears. “I’m not that kind of girl, really.”
Modo seemed to ignore her babbling. Instead he reached for the fallen quilt and wrapped it around her again, even though she tried to pull away. He hugged her gently, and after a moment she leaned into it, grateful. Heat lingered between them, but they let it dull to a simmer.
“You know, I always had a crush on you.” Modo admitted after a moment.
She blinked up at him. “You’re kidding?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Modo said, even raising his right hand and placing it over his heart. Jessie giggled.
“You never said anything though.”
“Well…you were out of my league, I guess.” Modo shrugged. “And frankly, Vinnie might have killed me.”
Jessie giggled at him again, looking up at him. She leaned up on tip-toes to kiss his nose. And then his lips again, softer, more careful this time. Modo didn’t push her away.
It was then that the screen door opened and the pair both startled apart. Throttle looked back at them from the door, his eyes wide even behind his field specs.
“H-hey bro! Didn’t hear you ride up!” Modo laughed, obviously nervous and anxious to change the subject. Throttle eyed the fact that the front of his bro’s grey-purple t-shirt was now soaked and sticking to him, as was the front of his jeans, which looked suspiciously tight.
This was to say nothing of Jessie, who was obviously wet and wearing a blanket like it was a cloak. “Am I interrupting something?” the tan mouse asked, though he knew damn well he was.
Modo and Jessie were both scarlet.
“Uh no, we were just, uh…cleaning up.”
Throttle fixed Modo with a look that his own mother would have been proud of. A piercing, knowing squint that had the big grey-furred giant feeling like a kid caught stealing treats.
“Unh-huh.”
Jessie moved towards him suddenly, anxious and pleading, the blanket dropping enough so that Throttle could see part of the still wet shirt she was sporting. “Please, Throttle, it just sorta happened, it was just a little kiss. I was taking a shower and Modo spooked me and we had a little laugh. That’s all.”
It really was all. If you discounted Jessie clearly packing a weapon and the obvious sexual tension between the two of them.
“Hey, hey, we’re all adults here. Nobody’s judging.”
Modo looked back at him, leveling his own gaze. “Unh-huh.”
Jessie looked around Throttle’s shoulder, trying to spy if Vinnie was close by.
“I sent him out back to get the clothes of the line. Wind’s picking up a little.” Throttle explained. She looked relieved and nodded. She looked earnestly towards the tan mouse, eyes meeting as she carefully gripped his arm.
“Please, can you not say anything to Vinnie about this?”
Throttle immediately tried to pull away but she wouldn’t let him. “Please? I just…he’s already upset, and I don’t want to pile this on top of it. It was just a little kiss.”
“If that’s the case, what’s the big deal?” Throttle asked.
Modo stepped in. “Bro, you know how he gets. I’ll talk to him about it later, just…the optics right now are a little weird.”
“You don’t say?” Throttle snarked back.
Jessie squeezed his arm again, looking at him more seriously. “Throttle, please? I really was nothing. I don’t want this to over complicate things when they’re already messy.”
The tan mouse considered a moment, but inevitably folded under the pleading gaze of the other two. He sighed heavily. “Alright, alright. What’s a little kiss between pals, right?”
She smirked at him and planted a big wet kiss on his cheek as if to make the point. “Exactly!” Then hugging the quilt around her she trotted off, practically on tip toe, ducking briefly into the bathroom to grab the rest of her clothing before darting into the bedroom and closing the door behind her.
Modo stared at his bro. “She’s um…a little all over the place right now.”
Throttle nodded slowly. “I can see that.” He moved closer to Modo, looking at him cautiously. “What are you doing?”
“It was nothing!” Modo gasped, waving his hands. “I came back with grub, she must not have realized I was home, she got out of the shower—ready to shoot me might I add—”
“Wait, what!?” Throttle gasped and Modo shushed him, looking back towards the door where Jessie had vanished.
“What do you mean she tried to shoot you?”
“She’s clearly spooked, okay? I think she’s in trouble.”
They both eyed the door where she had vanished, letting the weight of this settle over them for a moment. Throttle poked Modo lightly in the chest, feeling the dampness of his clothing. “You always make out with people who try to shoot you?” he asked, a bit more jokingly to Modo’s relief.
“If they’re pretty enough.” The other answered with a smirk. “Please don’t’ say nothing to Vinnie though.”
Throttle sighed and patted his bro’s arm. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my lips shut.” He moved towards the kitchen to see if he could help with the abundance of items laying about. “But you know, if I wanted to deal with walking in on a make-out session around every corner, I woulda just stayed at Stoke’s.”
Modo rolled his eyes. “You really gonna begrudge a bro a kiss from a pretty girl once in awhile?”
“If that girl’s an estranged sister to your other bro, I think it falls into question.” The other answered.
Modo moved beside him, resuming the mundane tasks of tucking away the food and supplies. “Aw, don’t be jealous just because you and Carbine are in a dry spell…”
Throttle tensed unexpectedly and Modo blinked at him, surprised that the little joke seemed to have landed so hard.
“Can you not bring up Carbine?”
“What, it’s just a rough patch bro, it’s fine, happens to the best of us…”
Throttle looked strained, maybe even angry. But before Modo could ask why, Vinnie was struggling his way through the back door, which slid open with twhunk! The thick plexi-glass panel shuddering under the force. His arms were full of the now dry bedding, piled so high you couldn’t see his face. “Make way, make way!”
He tromped into the room and threw everything on the floor and the couch, dusting his hands as if he had accomplished some great deed. “There, fresh as spring time! Don’t say I never did anything to help out—” He turned and looked at his bros, the food and supplies and the odd expressions on their faces.
“What, did I scare ya?”
“Yeah, but not in the way you think.” Modo sighed. “Could you fold those, hot shot? And get them off the floor?”
“Touchy, touchy. Why don’t I just get you an apron big guy and you can play house-mouse all day?” He eyed Modo’s wet clothing. “What’d you do, fall in the sink?”
“Oh he fell into something…” Throttle muttered and Modo stepped on the tip of his tail to shut him up.
Vinnie, oblivious, looked around. “Place looks great. Where’s Jess?” He tried to sound casual but there was in fact a little note of worry in his voice.
“She’s just getting cleaned up.” Modo answered.
Vinnie nodded, a bit nervously, as if reassuring himself. It hurt them to see his anxiety showing up this way, even in this little gesture. Modo felt a small sting of guilt and looked to Throttle who had already pulled away.
Vinnie turned back towards the bedroom and then noticed the out of place new addition on the shelf, spotting the stunner lying there. He stared at it, confused, pulling it from it’s place carefully. Modo’s fur bristled with worry, his ears perking. Throttle observed them both, the anxiety quickly catching.
“Hey, what’s this?” Vinnie asked, looking back at them.
Modo didn’t know what to say, feeling dubious about giving answers for Jessie. The woman appeared then as if summoned by his thoughts, stepping up behind Vinnie.
“What’s up?”
“Dunno,” Vinnie mused, still studying the weapon. “Just wondering where this little beauty came from…don’t remember stashing any of these around the place.”
Jessie tensed too, watching her brother handle the weapon she had nearly shot his best friend with. She bit her lip and opened her mouth to say something, when Throttle spoke.
“Oh, I think that’s mine.”
Vinnie blinked at him, as did Modo and Jessie, before exchanging curious glances.
“Yours?” Vinnie asked. “Not your usual style, bro. A little light-weight. You and Carbine mix your gear up last hook up?” He laughed lightly, tossing it to him and Throttle caught it easily, tucking it away.
“Yeah, guess so. Sorry about that.”
“Hey no problem, just don’t like to leave things lying around. Safety first!” He looked back at Jess, “Oh good you showered, no offense but you smelled like you had been riding for a while girl, whew! You still gonna help with that casserole recipe.”
She rolled her eyes and poked his stomach. “Still thinking with your stomach little bro?”
“You know a muscle mouse needs to keep his protein up! Beside Throttle and I worked up an appetite on our ride. Come on, let’s see what we’re working with.” He moved hurriedly over to the supplies Modo had brought over, oblivious to the tension between the other three Mice.
“Uh, if we all want to keep dinner down, why don’t you leave it me, bro. Just tell me what’s in the casserole and I’ll whip it up.” Modo offered.
“Oh, you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah, my pleasure. Throttle can give me a hand peeling some fresh potatoes.” He nodded towards his bro, hoping he would understand the silent request hidden in the suggestion.
Throttle paused, but eventually took the bait. “Yeah sure. Relive my army days, I guess.” He shrugged. He looked to Vinnie and Jessie, “Our ride got a little rough out there, why don’t you two head out and see if you can buff the dings out of poor Cherry? And Lady wouldn’t say no to a nice wash either, I’m sure.”
Vinnie nodded, “Sure, but I think I’m getting the better end of that deal, bro.”
Throttle sighed. “I won’t argue that…”
If Vinnie heard the utterance he didn’t show it, patting Throttle on the shoulder affectionately before heading towards the door. “I’ll grab the tools from the shed, meet ya outside!” He called, trotting off ahead of her.
In his wake they all looked at each other. “Why did you--?” Jessie began.
Throttle waved her off, sitting at the table. “You guys don’t want to complicate things, so I’m just playing along. You explain it to him later.” He sighed.
“Thank you.” She nodded, sincerely before turning to follow her brother outside, leaving Throttle and Modo alone in the kitchen once more. The air was heavy between them for a moment, each silently sizing up the other and what they wanted to say. Unsure yet if they would engage.
The tan mouse reached across the table and grabbed the bag of potatoes that had been left there, tearing open the mesh bag and beginning to sort through them. “Got a peeler?”
Modo paused a moment, then dug through the drawers, producing the tool and pressing it lightly into Throttle’s palm. It was only when he didn’t let go right away that the other mouse looked up at him.
“Don’t be mad. It was just a silly little kiss. That’s all.”
Throttle blinked back at him. “It doesn’t matter to me if it was or wasn’t. I just don’t want him getting upset with you. Or her. And frankly…I don’t know what’s up with her.” He pulled out the stunner and laid it on the table beside the food, considering it.
It was not the kind of stunner they were used to handling. Definitely not army issue despite Vinnie’s quip. This thing was built from parts, and it had been modified. This was a smuggler’s weapon. Something Sand Raiders used.
Throttle noticed strange stamp under the grip that had been partially rubbed off. Some kind of insignia though he did not recognize it. “I have a bad feeling Jessie brought more baggage home than we realized.”
Modo nodded heavily. “Yeah. I thought that too.”
“We gotta look out for him. I’m glad she’s back, I’m glad she’s safe, but I don’t think I can sit here and pick up the pieces of him again if she decides to run off. I just don’t have it in me.”
Modo nodded, but he knew that was a lie. He knew his bro too well not to know. He slipped an arm around his shoulders, holding him in something that was a mix of a hug and a headlock. It made the other mouse laugh. “Don’t worry. Nobody’s gonna get hurt. This is a good thing, you’ll see.”
He dug the knuckles of his good hand into Throttle’s scalp, causing him to push him off. “And quit worrying so much all the time! Vinnie says I need apron strings, but you’re the biggest mother hen of all. Give Sweep a run for her money.”
He went back to his work at the counter, laying out baking dishes and checking them for grim, and did not see Throttle’s face fall back into worried lines as he tried to keep himself busy.
Throttle wanted Modo to be right. He wanted everything to be fine. For this to be the sign of better things on the horizon for them. But time and circumstance had a way of making you recognize patterns. Change, even good change, often brought turmoil with it. He just hoped they were all ready to weather it.
***
Chapter Text
***
The rest of the afternoon slipped away, largely uneventful, bringing a needed sense of peace to the trailer and it’s little inhabitants. The scene down right domestic with the comings and goings from the kitchen and the yard.
Large embankments of clouds began to drift in over the horizon, lazily wandering over the flat lands and making the long grass in the places where it grew ripple like waves on the ocean. The breeze was welcomed, and as the afternoon trudged on, it began to carry the scent of rain on it. Real rain. A celebrated event here on the dry and devastated planet as it slowly began to recover from what it’s invaders had done to it.
Behind the trailer in the scrubby grass and bare spotted yard between the homestead and it’s tool shed, Vinnie and Jessie were crouched together on stools and kneeling in the dirt as they worked to clean and buff out Cherry, as well as the other bikes.
Jessie marveled at her brother’s red rocket racer and the way it responded to his comments and commands. It felt more like Cherry was a pet than a typical machine.
“So how’d you come by this baby anyway? I don’t remember you riding around anything this cool while I was here.” She asked her brother.
Vinnie blinked at her, “Wait really? You don’t remember that?”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I did…”
“Cherry was my 16th birthday present. Mom, Pop and Stoke all went in on her, don’t you remember? It was kinda a big deal.”
Jessie considered, “Hmm…no, I thought that bike was less…shiny than your pretty girl here. Wasn’t she something of a beater, that first one you got?”
Vinnie tapped Cherry affectionately and she beeped in return, giving a little purr of her engine. “Same bike, baby. Took some time, took some elbow grease. And a lot of bartering, begging and stealing for parts and upgrades…but I molded her into the work of art you see here today. Ain’t that right, baby?”
His sister blinked in surprise. “Wow. That’s impressive, little bro! Mom and Pop would be proud!”
Vinnie laughed, but she could tell that the comment touched a soft spot. She smiled at him affectionately. “So…you’ve spent all this time, getting your bike souped up, fighting in the war, still hanging around with your best friends since diapers…and did time on Earth in exile.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You know I really can’t tell if you’ve actually changed or if you’re just doing the same silly shit you always did but on a bigger scale.”
Vinnie shrugged, “Well sis, all I can say to that is that you need time to really marinate in the experience that is my awesomeness to get the full picture. A simple summary just doesn’t do it justice.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Yep. Same ol’ baby brother.”
She continued to toil with her own bike, giving it a quick oil change while they chatted. She had made sure her own ride had been prepped and ready to go before now, needing to assure it would get her as far away from the Out Flows as possible. But the busy work suited her, lubricated the conversation.
Vinnie studied her for a moment, “So…are you just passing through? I mean…guess you’ve probably got friends and such to get back to as well.” He watched her face, trying to gauge her reaction.
The little wrinkle between Jessie’s brows appeared, a tell of stress. She frowned, but tried to keep her face neutral; another sign she was holding back.
“No, not really. Everyone in my old unit has been kinda scattered these days. When the fighting dries up, so do the emergencies, so too does the work. We’re all scattered to the winds now. I’m just following suite.”
“But you came back here. I mean…you chose to come home.”
“Yeah, figured I’d stop by. Pay respects.” She paused and sighed but did her best not to look directly at him. “I did miss the place, I guess.”
She felt his eyes on her and at last had to return the look. “I’m sorry. If I had thought you were here, I would have come sooner. Really.”
Vinnie said nothing, trying to distract himself again with Cherry. “You never came back this way before? Neve asked about us?”
Jessie winced. “Vinnie…”
“Well I mean…what I’m getting at is why? Can’t have just been the work. You must have had something keeping you there that was worth the distance. Come on, Jess. You aren’t the loner type.”
She blinked at him again, wiping her hands on a rag tucked into her belt. “…Mister Insightful now, hmm? That’s definitely different.”
“Answer the question.”
She sighed and groaned. “Do we really have to get into it? Yes, I had people there. Now I don’t. It’s just like that sometimes. Not all of us become co-dependent on their friends, you know.”
“Hey! We aren’t talking about me right now—”
“That would be a first—”
Vinnie picked up a rag and threw it out at her and she squealed as it smacked her across her face, streaking her white fur with fresh grease smudges. “Ugh! What was that for!?”
“I can think of a few things, take yer pick! Maybe being a prissy brat is the top of the list!” he spat at her.
She picked up her own rag and hurled it back towards him. “Better than being a whiny little piss baby like you!”
They were fighting like children again. Frustrated and angry but unfocused, and somehow becoming more preoccupied with the strange thrill of getting a rise out of the other.
From the kitchen window, Modo and Throttle watched the back and forth. “The kids are fighting again.” Throttle sighed.
Modo patted his back, “Well, I guess they’ll just have to sort it out between themselves. A little scuffle in the dust between siblings never hurt no body. Builds character, that’s what my mama always said.”
Throttle looked back at him. “You aren’t taking into account that both you and Sweep are built like pro wrestlers and letting you two wail on each other is about the only way she probably got any peace.”
Modo smirked. “You and Mama been havin tea together again?”
Throttle winked at him and then looked back at the scene in the yard. “This is all givin’ me the weirdest case of déjà vu, I’ll say that much.”
They gathered plates and utensils, along with covered dishes of hot food that was ready to serve. Modo had followed the Van Wham’s casserole recipe, and when it came out looking like something that had been regurgitated into a casserole dish, he had decided to add a few other items to the menu.
Modo finished setting the now cleaned and covered table—moved to the porch to allow them all a little more room—when he caught the scent of it on the air.
Throttle had come out the door behind him, carrying covered dishes. “You smell that?” Modo asked, not taking his eye off the sky.
The tan mouse lifted his head, the wafting breeze fanning his hair and fur in a quick ruffle. “Smells like a storm. How far off?”
Modo pointed out on the far horizon beyond the edge of the canyon that was hazy in the afternoon heat. The sky over the red and orange rocks had turned a deep grey purple and they could see whisps of trailing cloud reaching down toward the earth, silvery threads that indicated water.
The pair stared at it in awed silence for a moment.
“Hey Vinnie!” Modo bellowed, and Throttle added in with a shrill whistle.
A moment later they heard the back door inside the house slam open and shut, stomping feet as Vinnie came through the front door. “What?! I’m kinda in the middle of something, you can’t just---”
His rant trailed off when he too spotted the cloud bank in the far distance, becoming aware of the humidity rising on the breeze. “Oh wow.”
They glimpsed thin bolts of hot pink and green lightening beginning to flicker from the clouds, the smallest rumble of thunder. The three looked at each other excitedly.
“Do you think it will hold?”
“Dunno. Hard to tell with this wind. It might break up. But damn, we could use a real good hard rain.” Modo sighed. He spotted Jessie then in the yard, having come along the side of the trailer. The wind whipping her hair behind her as another gust rolled over them, shaking the metal porch covering and roof of the trailer.
Modo couldn’t help but stare at her. She cut such a lovely picture standing there, her coloring so stark against the grey and orange backdrop of the land and sky. “She’s shifting south!” the woman called to them. “Can you feel it?”
The wind had begun to change direction, the shift subtle but abrupt. “Think she’s gonna keep her distance.” She added.
“Damn.” Modo sighed. “Coulda used a good storm.”
Jessie moved to join them on the porch, tearing her eyes from the horizon to the spread that the boys had laid out for them, included with bottle string lights that had been strung from the roof, and across the support poles of the porch covering, and the daisies Modo had cut from their sporadic place in the yard and placed in a sweating jar of water to keep them fresh, using them as centerpiece.
“This is so nice,” Jessie beamed at them. She reached and hugged both Throttle and Modo. “You boys really know how to welcome a girl home, I’ll tell you that.”
She pressed a kiss to both their cheeks and then pulled away, pretending not to notice the way Modo blushed and looked to Vinnie. She let out a little puff of air, looking at her equally oil streaked sibling. She extended her right arm stiffly. “Dinner truce?”
Vinnie rolled his eyes. “Ugh. I guess.” He muttered, begrudgingly shaking her hand. Another familiar ritual from their youth. Jessie grinned and then yanked her brother forward and hugged him too, planting a loud and almost painful kiss on his cheek, the smacking sound of it making Vinnie cringe and push her away. “UCK! Get off!”
She slipped away from easily. “I’m just gonna dust off, be right with you guys. Everything looks great!” she called, disappearing into the house once more.
Vinnie tried to wipe her spit from his cheek. “Ugh, some people just don’t know when to grow up.” He muttered, missing the expression Throttle gave him at this statement. Instead his eyes went to Modo, who was still pink in the face and gazing dreamily through the screen door into the house.
“What’s up with you? You two get into the beer while you were cookin?”
Throttle clapped his oblivious brother on the shoulder. “No, but I’m about to fix that. How about a round, bros? I really think I’m gonna need one.”
They spent the evening pleasantly together, the clouds continuing to roll and gather but keeping their distance from the little group and their ramshackle dwelling. The multicolored lights swayed in the breeze, and the one sad rusted pinwheel in the long dead garden bed around the porch squeaked feverishly as it churned over and over. Tumble weeds and little tornadoes of dust swirled softly along the ground and through the grass, and insects and small animals trilled and sang softly in the oncoming dark. They too were anticipating the humidity and the storms that lurked miles off.
As night came on, the low thunder continued to roll softly in the distance, and the winds became low and steady. Dark came on early, and the Mice bunkered down in the trailer to weather the night once more, their bikes secured under the protective garage at the back of the trailer, safe from the elements.
All four of them were somewhat comfortably intoxicated, listening to the radio and the low rumble outside, the conversation died down to quiet chit-chat. Vinnie and Modo were entertaining themselves with a cobbled together board game they had found stuffed under the couch. A relic from years past, and were presently making up the rules as they went. Both Jessie and Throttle had “retired” early from the game, watching as the other pair became increasingly competitive and unhinged in their nonsense competition.
Throttle excused himself, stepping outside to once more watch the storm off of the porch. The bracing air helped shake some of low grade grogginess from his mind, but also woke up all the semi-sleeping worries in his head.
As he leaned against the rail, watching the sky, his mind even farther away, he became aware of the woman who siddled up next to him. He startled slightly at her unnanoucned approach and they both gave a small nervous laugh.
“Sorry, Jess…didn’t hear you creep up.” The biker amended. “Shouldn’t sneak up on a solider, you know. We get jumpy.”
She nodded, “Yeah, sorry…you probably came out here to get away from me and, well I just can’t seem to take the hint.” She replied, still nursing her beer.
“Wouldn’t say that…” he attempted, but there wasn’t much conviction in his debate.
Jessie nodded. “It’s okay. I just…I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“Yeah. You know…you and Modo really stepped up. You’ve been looking after him all this time. And don’t say you haven’t because I think we all know that without the two of you, he would be in that burial plot with Momma and Daddy. Kid’s always had a mean restless streak. I couldn’t keep up.”
“Well…you shouldn’t have had to. You were not much more than a kid yourself.” Throttle admitted.
“And what were you back then, hmm? Just a boy too. But you took to him so fast, Throttle. I always thought he was more your brother than mine. You and your mama were good to us. Modo’s family too. I don’t think we woulda made it without your help.”
“Your parents did their best, Jessie. I think they just…”
“Had a hard time growing up?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
She sighed, leaning a little closer to him as they shared the railing together. “Yeah. For a long time I told myself I would never be like that. I wasn’t gonna waste my life trying to relive the glory days. I was gonna go do what I wanted to do so I wouldn’t have any regrets.” She frowned into her bottle. “…boy was I stupid.”
He looked at her carefully. “Everyone’s got regrets. Some worse than others.” He offered, carefully. Wondering if she would take the bait. She didn’t look at him, but began to fidget with her bottle instead.
“You ever have a regret so bad it follows you around? Like a ghost?’ She stared out into the dark, and Throttle tried to follow his gaze.
“Yes.” He answered simply.
This made her look at him. “What do you do about it?”
He reached into his thigh holster and pulled out the gun she had abandoned on the bookshelf, showing her the half distorted insignia. “I don’t know. But I’m not sure this will help.” He tapped his finger against the marking. “Jess…is this what I think it is?”
She straightened, suddenly anxious and reached to pull the gun from his hand but he wouldn’t release it at once. “It’s nothing…”
“This is a smuggler’s brand. I think the name is ‘Cerberus’. A Sand Raider ring that was running plenty of rackets along the Out Flows in the day. You have a run in with them?”
The woman looked at him, stone faced, and pulled the gun from his grip. “I’m a med tech, Throttle. We go where we’re needed. We help who needs us. Not just Mice, Rats and Sand Dogs too.”
“And they gave you that as some sort of thank you, I suppose?”
She tucked the weapon away and finished her bottle in three big gulps, leaving it to sit on the edge of the rail. “Something like that.” She turned, heading back towards the door, able to hear Vinnie and Modo arguing and increased volume as they aggressively tried to beat each other at the game that had no rules.
“Think I’ll turn in early. Need to head into town tomorrow, catch up with a few other folks. Goodnight.”
“Jessie.”
The way he said her name gave her pause. It was low and stern, but soft. It reminded her too much of her dad. It was jarring coming from someone she still thought of as another sibling, or perhaps an over friendly neighbor. She glanced back at him, expecting to see that wary look of judgement on his face that had been present since she arrived.
“If you’re running from something, that’s your business. But if you want somewhere to run to, then you need to be straight with us. You owe him that much.”
She paused, the words still processing, churning in her mind. “Owe him?” she repeated. “He hasn’t got anything to do with this.”
Throttle’s expression turned harder. “Doesn’t it?”
She didn’t answer, ending the conversation by stepping back into the house and leaving him alone outside again. He listened for a moment to their bluster inside, the argument that Vinnie and Modo were having losing steam quickly, easily diverted.
Throttle turned back towards the horizon, seeing the distant glow of the house lights from the Maverick’s farm in the early dark. Hadn’t it been dark like this that night too? The winds howling and Deimos nearly full as it rose.
Some of the details had begun to blur and fade in the long march of years. But that moment that when he and Modo had arrived on Stoker’s tail, their mentor having broke the horrible news of the accident.
The long conversation between Stoker, the Mavericks and the local authorities over the ugly particulars. While he and Modo tried to help the siblings cope with the news. Throttle remembered vividly the way Vinnie had wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that there was a mistake, that he wanted proof. Jessie grabbing at him and shaking him, telling him to just stop and listen. Both of them crumbling into shock.
And when the authorities had left, leaving them in the cold aftermath. Jessie breaking into tears, letting go of the little brother she seemed to be holding together to dart outside. Stoker going after her, trying to calm her down.
Vinnie, looking too small and too young and too afraid. Shouting for his sister to come back, even as she pulled free from Stoker and made a mad dash for her bike, taking off into the dark.
Now, as an adult, Throttle understood. How overwhelmed she must have been in that moment. How much she probably wanted to run from the weight that was now forced onto her shoulders. The burden before her.
But at the time, all he saw was how horrified Vinnie had been. How afraid he was that something else might happen and swallow up the last piece of his family. Because now the worst case scenario was real. There was no more ability to distance himself from tragedy. It was here. In his house. And he couldn’t deal with it alone.
The rumble of another motorcycle and the flash of it’s high-beam headlight shook him from his memories and back to reality. He watched the lone bike speed down the dirt road that separated the Maverick’s land and the dirt patch that the trailer sat on, heading straight towards them.
Immediately the former Freedom Fighter was tense and ready, hand already feeling for his weapon inside it’s holster, knuckles flexing under the soft glove that held his nuke-nuks. Ready to go at a moment’s notice—always. The war might have ended years ago but the fight never really did. Not for them.
But as the bike road closer, half obscured by the dust cloud that spun around it, he realized that most of his caution was unwarranted. As his field spec adjusted, he realized he knew this rider. Intimately in fact.
Carbine stopped a yard or two from the porch step, parking her army issue bike—one of the newer sleeker models—and gave a quick wave to him.
He prayed then that a freak lightning strike would bolt out of the sky and fry him where he stood. He did not want to deal with this.
He glanced back at the trailer but it seemed like no one inside had taken notice of their company. So he resigned himself, stepping down to meet her half way.
“I didn’t realize you and the boys were going off grid.” The General greeted. “You sure know how to make yourself hard to find when you want to.”
“Never stopped you before.” Throttle returned, trying to offer something of a smile. “What brings you all the way out to the sticks, General? Kinda far from the Cathedra, aint’ ya?”
“Yes,” Carbine answered, clearly irritated. “But it couldn’t wait. I tried reaching you at your place, and Stoke’s, but came up with nothin’. Harley told me to try you out here; that you and the boys were doing some off roading.”
She looked up at the trailer. “You uh…tryin’ to rough it out here?”
“It’s Vinnie’s family’s place. His sister just got back into town. Guess we’re celebrating.” He explained, not caring to give too much detail. She studied the house again, as if trying to get a glimpse of the mystery woman in question.
“Sister hmm?”
“What do you need, Carbine?” he asked her pointedly, tired of beating around the bush.
She met his eye then, if somewhat reluctantly. “I wanted to give you a heads up is all. We got some intelligence of suspicious activity in the wastes just beyond here, near Kokomo Canyon. Another biker gang, causing a big stir out that way. Harassing the smaller settlements and getting into deadly fire-fights with the Sand Raiders. Thought you oughta know.”
Throttle nodded, folding his arms across his chest, feeling the chill that was settling in with the night air and the harsh breeze. “Sounds like a mess. You need an assist?”
“Strain and I have it covered.” She answered.
The tan mouse frowned darkly. “Yeah, bet you do.”
Carbine’s practiced decorum dropped here, “Oh please. Don’t pout. You have no right to do that, not after everything. We both need to move on, Throttle.”
“I know that.”
“Knowing it up here, and knowing it in there,” she poked him in the chest. “Are two different things. It wasn’t going to work. You said it yourself. We just want different things.” She looked at him, needing him to agree. To lessen whatever this ache, this painful unfinished thing between them was. “Are you taking care of yourself?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
She looked at him knowingly. “Because you’d rather take care of those two knuckle heads.”
“Oh come on…”
She sighed heavily, irritated. “I didn’t come here to argue, I came her to warn you. Now I’ve done that, so I’m going to get the hell out of here before that storm decides to change course. I’ll keep you in the loop if I can. I expect you to do the same.”
She was about to remount her bike, but paused, stopping to dig into the pocket of her fitted moto jacket. “Um…here. I keep meaning to give this back to you.”
She held out her palm. A necklace, a dark purple gem in gold teardrop setting lay coiled in the middle of it. It still had it’s shine, the glitter of it catching the flood light from the porch. Throttle felt a lump in his throat looking at it.
“I gave that to you. Keep it.” He said, lightly closing her fingers around it again. Carbine pulled her hand away, offering it again, more urgently.
“I can’t, Throttle. You know I can’t.”
He did. But it hurt. Despite all the logic, all the rationalization the pair had fed themselves on and off since he’d returned to Mars. It still hurt. “That’s your family’s stone. You should have it. The right one will come along, and you’ll want to give it to them.”
He said nothing, but held out his hand again, this time accepting the offering. The chain and the gem could not have weighed more than a few ounces but it felt so heavy in his hand. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” She nodded.
They hesitated there in the dark together a moment longer. For a moment it looked like Carbine might embrace him. He would have let her. Would have held her back. Might have even asked her to stay. But there would be no point to it. Nothing but prolonging ripping off the same band aid they’d been trying to remove for five years.
Without saying anything else, the raven haired woman mounted her bike again and sped off without another word, leaving him standing there in the dark.
He might have stood there all night, unable to will himself to move. Until there was a tug on his tail that pulled him back from mental void he was teetering on.
The tan biker turned and found Vinnie at the foot of the steps, having snagged his bro by the tail, tugging him playfully backwards as though he were trying to reel him in. “Hey! Come in from the cold, would ya? Yer gonna blow away soon if you stay out there.”
Throttle allowed himself to be pulled back, Vinnie snickering at his own joke.
“You’re a little drunk, hmm?”
“Just a little.” Vinnie nodded. He poked the other mouse in the chest. “But so are you so…so there.”
“Hmm. Right.”
“Who were ya talking to?” Vinnie asked, glassy eyes following the tracks Carbine’s bike had left in the dirt, though the wind was making swift work of them. His eyes caught on the little glint of gold dangling from Throttle’s fingers. Without thinking, he reached for his palm, trying to peek at what was tucked beneath his fingers.
Before Throttle could stop him, Vinnie glimpsed the necklace clutched in his palm.
The younger biker mouse looked up at his bro in surprise, suddenly sober. Throttle couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Bros?” Modo called suddenly from inside. “Everything alright?”
Vinnie glanced awkwardly toward him and then back at Throttle. The calm, cool and collected bro, also so sure of himself, looked much too vulnerable then. Vinnie saw that in this moment, he could not bear to explain what must have just gone down. Later, but not now.
“Yeah…” he squeezed Throttle’s hand gently, reassuringly. “…everything’s cool. We’ll be right there.”
***
Chapter Text
***
Jessie had only been inside a few minutes when she had heard the approach of the other motorcycle. This unexpected company immediately put her on edge, and she did not wait for Modo or Vinnie to acknowledge the arrival. The pair too embroiled in their silly made up game. She caught a glimpse of Throttle walking towards the rider, and then hurriedly excused herself towards her childhood bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Her palms began to sweat anxiously, as she tried to center herself. The rider could have been anyone. And clearly it must have been someone Throttle knew or he would not have approached so readily. This was all probably for nothing.
But she couldn’t help her fear. If he had found her here, she didn’t know what he would do. She needed to protect herself, and her family. She pulled the blaster Throttle had confronted her with from her belt and checked to see if it was still armed, removing the safety, then put it back in it’s hidden holster. In addition, she grabbed what looked like three silver rings from the pocket of her duffel, slipping each on her three middle fingers. They were pretty and unassuming, if not slightly thick for women’s jewelry. But, if she pressed her fingers together hard, they formed something new. The metal would lock together and expand up past her knuckles into sharp little prongs. Painful to be stabbed with yes, but more painful if she pressed beneath the device with her thumb, which would electrify it. Turning it just as effective as tazor without the bulk and a certain personal touch that only some of the hardest fighters would use. Flexing her fingers apart would retract the spikes and cut the electric current, rendering them simple rings again.
Armed now, she took a deep breath to calm herself. If Rod and his cronies decided to turn up, looking for her and his blood money, she’d be ready. And gods help him if he or any of them put a single finger on her brother…
She heard a change in the voices from the living room then. No more boisterous yelling or laughing coming from Modo or Vinnie. The tones were hurried and disjointed. She pressed her ear to the door and strained to listen, catching only a few words.
Steeling herself, she opened the door and stepped back into the hall. From the shadow of the corridor, she could catch a glimpse of the boys in the living room. There seemed to be no newcomers and now she realized the sound of the other motorcycle was gone. Whoever had been here had already left.
She moved cautiously towards the bunch, seeing Throttle dropped down on the couch with his head in his hand, Vinnie bent in front of him, looking concerned and talking low. Modo close beside the other two, and the first to notice her approach.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Oh um…” Modo fumbled, unsure what to say. Throttle seemed to curl a little further in on himself, as if trying to avoid being seen. Vinnie looked at her directly.
“Got a bit of a heartbreak situation here,” he said.
“Vinnie…” Throttle shook his head but Van Wham ignored him, patting his knee.
Jessie moved tentatively to the other side of the group, looking at Throttle sympathetically. One glance at his face told her that what Vinnie had said was more than true. The usually stoic mouse looked crushed and dazed. She glimpsed the gold chain that was still dripping from his palm, and could make a good guess what had happened.
“I’m sorry.” She offered, sincerely.
Though a moment ago the pair had been at odds with each other, she pushed it aside. She reached and rubbed his shoulder gently. Glancing at Modo and Vinnie, she saw how they looked to her for answers. Both slightly distressed at their brother’s upset and looking like lost puppies in their state of intoxication.
She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s okay, boys.” She assured. She moved past them and pulled the big door shut, latching it securely and pulling the windows closed to just a crack, allowing the breeze to pass through still. “I know just what to do.”
In short order, she swept about cleaning up the remains of the shattered board game and any left over bottles. A movie was put on, something mindlessly ridiculous and only mildly violent. Jessie mixed a drink for Throttle, golden milk with a hefty dose of whiskey in it.
She sat beside him, having to nudge Vinnie out of the way and pressed the warm mug into his hands. He looked at her, confused and glassy eyed but said nothing. It seemed like all the words had left him.
“You’ll be okay.” She promised him.
“How?” His voice cracked, seeming strained. She could tell he was on the verge of tears but was fighting them back. It was strange to see him so soft, when only a few minutes ago she had been pressed and irritated by his cool demeanor. It reminded her that she wasn’t the only one with guards up. Not the only one with troubles.
“Well, you’ve got us, don’t you?”
“I’ll drink to that!” Vinnie nodded, resolute and serious if not intoxicated. His sister reached and pushed him back down to where he was on the floor, and the masked mouse resigned himself to the spot, deciding getting up to drink more was not worth the effort.
Jessie tugged at Modo, bringing him to sit on the other side of the tan furred mouse, dragging the quilt from the back of the couch over them and tucking it around them, “Now, we’re all going to sit here and mindlessly watch this awful movie, until you either feel better, or at least marginally less bad.”
The tan mouse only nodded blankly and took a hefty slug of the drink, not even tasting it.
They sat together in the muffled quiet for a long time, the only speaking coming from the characters on the television and occasionally Vinnie offering commentary or critique on a scene.
Modo stretched his arm across the back of the couch behind Throttle and glanced discretely towards Jessie. She did the same, letting their fingers lace briefly.
“Thank you.” He mouthed towards her.
She smiled back at him, squeezing his fingers. It was only then that Modo noticed the new rings she had placed on her fingers. He studied them for a moment in passing curiosity, but when she pulled back quickly his casual observance shifted.
After a few more minutes, noticing that Throttle hadn’t finished any more of the drink, she plucked the now cold mug from his hand and stood, carrying it to the sink. Modo watched her thoughtfully. He shifted then too, catching Vinnie’s attention.
“Pee break?”
Modo gave a no committal nod and slipped away, allowing Vinnie to jump readily into his seat. “On your feet loose your seat!” he called.
Maverick slipped up behind Jessie as she washed out of the cup and left it in the sink. “Thanks for the help, jess. Nice of you.”
She smiled at him, sighing a patted his arm lightly. “Well, I’m only sorry my training doesn’t include fixing broken hearts.” She looked back to the pair on the couch. “How long were they together?”
“Years. Been off and on recently. I didn’t know how bad it was.” He answered back softly.
Vinnie glanced their direction and made a shushing sound. Jessie slipped her hand into Modo’s and pulled him from the kitchen, slipping down the hall with him as Vinnie began to chatter away mindlessly to Throttle, who still seemed utterly checked out.
Alone in the dark, tucked out of sight and ear shot, Modo took her hand in his again, eyeing the rings on her middle, ring and index fingers. “These are interesting.” He said, giving her a knowing look and studying her reaction. “Haven’t seen something like this in in action in a long time. A classier version of brass-knuckles, I gotta admit.”
She looked up at him nervously, pulling her hand from his. “I don’t know what—”
“You’re in trouble. We all know it. So just tell us what’s going on.”
She didn’t answer, refusing to look at him. Modo sighed, craning his neck to catch her gaze again. “Jess…I’m not judging you. Whatever it is, whatever the reason, we can help. It’s what we do.”
“No!” she hissed, making him blink in surprise.
“No…I can’t get you guys mixed up in this. Especially Vinnie. I didn’t come here to dump my troubles on his shoulders. Or on any of you for that matter! I’ve got it handled.” Her gaze shifted towards her bedroom subconsciously, thinking of what was hidden there in the wall behind her bed. “I just need another day or two, and then I’ll be out of your hair. You won’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re gonna just leave again?” Modo hissed.
“It’s for the best!”
He looked at her hard. “No! No you can’t do that! You can’t just walk in and walk out of someone’s life. That’s not how family works!” he hissed, trying to keep his voice from carrying back to the others.
She started to argue again, but he took her hand and pulled her to the edge of the hall again, pointing at the pair on the couch. “Are you really gonna tell me that you don’t care after that? That you’re just around to bring trouble?”
The white furred woman just looked on, looking close to tears, shaking her head. She managed to walk away from him again, trying to escape into her bedroom. Modo caught her again, pulling her instead into the only other room in the trailer that hadn’t been explored.
They did not bother with lights, allowing only the thin light of the moons outside, slipping in and out of heavy clouds to illuminate them in the dark and close-air of the room.
“What are you doing?” she hissed at him.
“Trying to get you to see sense,” Modo said, able to talk more freely now that they were not in the open. “Jess…Vinnie needs you. Whatever you’re running from, he would want to know. You’re his sister. You have to know he worries about you, cares about you! He never stopped!”
“Not all of us are like you, Maverick.” She argued. “We aren’t all close knit that way. I’m not…good for him. Throttle even said it! I couldn’t help him back when mom and dad died and I sure as hell can’t do it now! How would I even explain it? Should I just tell him, ‘hey baby brother sorry for totally leaving you behind to deal with a whole fucking war all by yourself, but see I went got myself mixed up with a real bad guy and now he’s out for blood and---"
She watched his single eye go wide, her partially intoxicated brain too slow to stop the words from slipping out in her emotional state. She slapped a hand over her mouth, as if she could pull them back. But of course, she could not.
“Oh my gods…” she mumbled after a moment. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Modo sighed heavily, dropping back to sit on the edge of the empty bed. His head ached dully, the rise and fall of emotions in such a short period of time leaving him feeling disoriented and tired. “Someone’s after you?”
Jessie exhaled shakily. “I’m sure he would be. But he didn’t know about my life here. Or Vinnie. He shouldn’t be able to find me, as long as I’m careful.”
“Ex-boyfriend?”
She nodded. Modo’s eye slipped towards the rings on her fingers again. “Bad break up then?”
“Wasn’t so much a break up as I made a run for it.”
“He hurt you?”
The rumble in his voice when he asked this made something in her tremble. The low warning in his already deep tenor, made he realize that Modo was exactly as dangerous as he looked if provoked.
“It’s not your fight, Maverick. I can handle myself.”
“You don’t have to, though.” He reminded her. “You don’t have to fight alone.”
She threw up her hands in a gesture that was a little too much like her brother, frustration on her pretty face. “Look, I am done with men who think they know what’s best for me, alright!? I came here to take care of things, only to find you three idiots! I’ve got a jaded baby brother who still acts like we’re teens, I’ve got Evander and his stupid judgy face telling me what a piece of shit I am, and then there’s you! You and your big stupid sweet face, trying to treat me like a lady in distress!”
She moved closer to him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, balling it in her fists. “I am so WAY PAST waiting for a nice guy to come rescue me, okay!? Where were you two years ago? Ten years ago?! Where were you when I was still someone worth fucking saving!?”
She hadn’t realized she crying. Or that she was on the edge of screaming all this. Only glad that the tv and the howl of the wind through open winds seemed to be enough to muffle the sound.
Modo just gazed back at her, saying nothing for several long moments as she panted and tried to catch her breath, cheeks wet.
She started to pull away from him, but he caught her and pulled her back, pulling her down and kissing her. Jessie gasped against his lips, startled. His arms came around her and held her close. Not harshly, not wanting her to feel trapped.
Her resistance faded quickly though, whimpering as she put her arms around his shoulders and let him pull her down onto the bed with him. Every other thought fled Jessie’s head. All her worry, her anger, her self-loathing seemed to evaporate like bubbles in the sink.
There was an instant spark with Modo, and now she was convinced it wasn’t just a fluke. There was something, albeit soft, new and unexplored, between them. The same heat she had felt from their earlier kiss rose in her, the tingly starting low in her belly and spreading down as she laid over top of his much larger frame. As tall a girl as she was, it was rare for someone to make her feel small. But Modo did, and in the best way.
This time it was his hands that began to rove, sliding up and down her back, fingers twisting into her hair, and settling on her hips. She moaned, feeling the press of him below her coupled with his loose grip there.
Their heated kiss broke, Modo looking up at her in the dark. “Jess…”
Her thighs squeezed slightly, the way he said her name doing things to her. “Hey,” she grinned down at him, “…anyone ever tell you you’re a really good kisser?”
He chuckled softly. “Not recently, ma’am.”
“Well…that’s a real shame. Cause you are.” She pressed against him for emphasis, lips melting against his. Both of them inhaled shakily a moment later, clearly fighting the obvious urge between them.
“You’re still kinda drunk, huh handsome?” she asked.
Modo nodded. “Yes. But not so much that I know I want you.” He admitted, gently squeezing her hips again.
Her cheeks were pink, smiling at him softly and brushing her fingers through the short fur along his head and over his ear. “You’re too sweet, you know that?” she asked. “But listen…I’m not gonna feel right if we rush this. And I’m really, really tired of messing things up.”
He nodded, moving his hands from her hips to her waist and back, rolling so they could lay side by side instead. “I’m not in any rush.” He assured. “I mean…I’ve waited almost twenty years. What’s a little longer?”
She beamed, cuddling closer, just happy to be held by someone who seemed to actually care about her. “You’re an old school romantic, aren’t ya? Thought your type had died out long ago.”
He nuzzled against her neck, drowsy and warm and a little too comfortable. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” He mumbled.
She continued to scratch softly at the back of his head and neck, until he went quiet and she felt his breathing become soft and even, falling asleep beside her. Jessie watched his face in the dark, thinking over everything until the white noise of the trailer and Modo’s body heat lulled her to sleep too.
**
Hours later, Modo woke in deep dark gloom. He might have rolled over and gone back to sleep, assuming the night hadn’t passed yet, were it not for the faint gray haze in the light. His ears perked, listening for rain. Nothing, but he could smell it in the air from the open windows.
The big grey mouse sat up, now seeing where he had ended up. He was laying on top of the comforter of a queen sized bed. The one formerly belong to Mr. and Mrs. Van Wham. It was an odd sensation. Of all the places in the trailer, visited in his youth and now, he had never been in here before. And he wasn’t sure how he had gotten here now.
The slight headache gave him a decent reminder though. A few too many drinks. Not nearly as many as the previous night at the racetrack, but still…enough to leave him with the ghost of a hangover.
Beside him on the bed was another sleeping body. Jessie, curled beneath the comforter, her back to him, long hair dripping down her back. Modo felt his heart do a hard skid as if it were a tire trying to stop on a dime. But the momentary panic subsided quickly. They were both clearly still dressed, at least partially. There was no indication that anything other than sleeping had gone in this room.
Relief, followed by…disappointment?
He leaned over Jessie’s shoulder, spying her sleeping face. She was dead to the world, sleeping hard, face relaxed. He brushed some of the stray hairs from her face lightly and then slipped from the bed, tip-toeing out of the room without waking her.
No sound from the rest of the trailer. Outside, some animals calling in the distance. No doubt anxious or excited about the looming storm. Modo made his way out into the hall, looking first to the open door of Vinnie’s bedroom, expecting to find the white furred mouse there, snoring away.
Nothing.
The door to Jessie’s room was shut, and the bathroom was empty.
His bros must be crashed out in the living room.
He padded down the hall and found a scene he hadn’t expected. The tv was on, playing low. Modo couldn’t tell if the garbled broadcast was a commercial or a cartoon. Loudly announcing about this and that in bright animated colors and flashes.
Vinnie was sitting on the floor beside the couch, same as he had last night, munching away on a bowl of cereal. On the couch behind him, Throttle was stretched out, fast asleep. Modo’s chest pinched, seeing that he was still clutching the returned necklace in one hand, spying the chain dripping through his fingers.
Vinnie looked back at him in greeting. “Morning.”
“Is it?” Modo mumbled, looking out the windows at the dark grey skies that hardly let any light escape. “I can barely tell.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “You look pretty alert for someone who should have a hangover.”
Vinnie shrugged. “You can’t get hung over if you don’t sleep I guess.”
Modo blinked. “You were up with him all night?” He looked back at Throttle. “How long has he been asleep?”
Vinnie glanced back at him. “Not long. Maybe an hour or two. Finally crashed.”
“Poor guy.” Modo pulled the quilted blanket from the back of the couch over their middle bro’s prone figure, slipping his glasses off his face carefully and letting them rest on the arm of the couch. “Guess we should have seen this coming, huh?”
Vinnie looked back at Throttle mournfully, smoothing a hand over his forearm lightly. “Yeah, it’s too bad. They were a badass power couple for sure…guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” Vinnie sighed.
“You throw that phrase around like you know what it means.” Modo mumbled.
“Well I do, big fella. If it’s meant to be, you’ll find a way. Hell and high water, you’ll find a way.”
“Hell and high water, huh?” the older mouse answered. “Of maybe a couple million miles distance?”
Vinnie’s tail gave a little bristle and he blinked. But of course Modo had hit the nail on the head. “You aren’t fooling anyone pretending you’re over her, by the way. Throttle’s a bad liar, but you’re the worst in the galaxy.”
His younger bro made a face back at him. “Oh alright Mr. Know-It-All, then tell me what I’m supposed to do about it? The lady probably hates my guts after just bugging out of there the way we did.” He tried to eat another mouthful of his breakfast but the colorful sugary shapes had lost all taste to him. He set the bowl aside to be forgotten.
“Charlie knew what she was in for with us, bro. Maybe not when we first got there, but by the end…she knows you wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. When we can get back there, we will. But for right now, it’s too risky.”
“When has risky stopped me from doing anything?” Vinnie asked, more to himself than Modo.
The older Martian Mouse moved to the coffee maker, doing his best to make the brew strong as possible, though nothing here on Mars matched the way Earth made their coffee. He glanced down the hall back towards the open door of the master bedroom where Jessie was still sleeping. “Hey, um…my memory’s a little fuzzy. How’d Jess and I end up in the bedroom?”
Vinnie side-eyed him. “Come again?”
“Uh…I guess we fell asleep together.” Modo shrugged, trying not act as nervous as he felt saying this, even though it was innocent. “I remember getting up to stretch at some point and then…”
Vinnie stared at him like all the gears in his brain had suddenly come to a grinding halt. He was up and walking past Modo into the hallway, leaning into the open bedroom, as if realizing for the first time where his bro and his sister had spent the rest of the night.
Throttle lifted his head suddenly from the couch cushion, staring blindly in Modo’s direction, eyes unfocused and hooded with lingering sleep. “…what’s going on?’ he mumbled thickly.
Modo stared at him, knowing he couldn’t see a thing and glad of it. Because he would have seen that the big grey furred mouse was ready to bolt.
But Vinnie didn’t return to the kitchen. Instead he slipped into the bedroom. A moment later, there was a screech that made both Throttle and Modo’s fur bristle up like grass in a high wind.
“HEY! GET OFF ME YOU TURD!”
Without thinking Modo was sprinting towards the sound, grabbing the door frame to keep from smacking into it, and found the siblings…wrestling.
Vinnie had grabbed Jessie by the ankle and was trying to physically pull her off the bed. His sister, pissed and only in her t-shirt and underwear, was reasonably indignant at this very rude awakening.
She kicked out at Vinnie with her other leg, her hands gripping the headboard to keep herself on the mattress.
“Get out of there! What are you doing you sick weirdo!? That’s their bed!” Vinnie grunted, still trying to pull her free.
“For fuck’s sake Vinnie!” she screeched back, kicking him again and this time managing to connect with his shoulder. It was hard enough to knock Vinnie back into the heavy wooden dresser that stood directly across from the bed, the mirror above it shaking at the impact. Dusty bottles of perfume wobbling and falling over, clacking together, one chipping and releasing the sharp scent from inside. “Dammit! Now look what you did!” Vinnie barked, rushing to try to right the objects.
Jessie threw a pillow at him, smacking him in the back of the head. “What is wrong with you!?” she barked. “Are you freakin’ crazy!?”
“Why are you in their room!” he howled back, and the confusion and anger in his voice seemed to finally break through her own upset, making her stop for a moment. She blinked around, as if fully realizing for the first time where she was. She looked small, scared, suddenly sitting rigidly on the bed.
“I…I wasn’t thinking about it, I just…I was tired.” Her eyes flicked anxiously towards Modo, as if searching for confirmation, or help.
He moved in then, moving first to Vinnie. “I’ve got it. Go out. Take the bottle outside or it’s gonna smell up the whole place.” He instructed. Vinnie looked at him, as if not understanding. It was only the weight of Modo’s bionic hand on his arm that seemed to snap him back to himself.
He nodded, gathering the broken bottle and slipping quickly away.
The grey furred mouse turned his eye on Jessie then, who seemed stranded on the bed as if she were on a rock in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by sharks. He slipped around to her side and without asking, scooped her up. She let him, arms slipping around his shoulders. “It’s okay.” He promised.
He moved with her out of the room, carrying her across the hall to her own room before setting her on her feet. He could feel her shaking.
Jessie’s eyes didn’t meet his, looking at the floor, raising her palms to her cheeks. “Shit, shit, oh my gods…why did I do that? Why did I--?”
“It’s okay. There’s no harm done. We’ll put it back together just how it was.” Modo offered. “You were tired, I was tired. I should have thought…”
She shook her head quickly at him, palm against his chest. “No, no Modo you didn’t do anything wrong. I was stupid, I wasn’t thinking.” She looked past him into the hall, still staring out the open door they had just exited. “Gods…he hasn’t been in there once, has he? Not since the funeral I bet.”
Modo shook his head.
“Shit shit shit!” It came out in a whimpering whisper, the woman dropping into a crouch in front of him, her face in her hands, pressed against her knees as if she was trying to make herself into a ball. “I’m the worst sister…”
Modo crouched beside her, tentatively reaching to rub her back. “Hey…it was just a mistake, Jess. We’ll fix it. I’ll help you.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” She mumbled, slowly pulling herself together, though now her cheeks were streaked with tears. “Why am I so bad at this?”
“You’re not.”
She smiled at him gratefully. “You’re too sweet to me, Maverick.”
Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her cheek gently, then stood up, leaving her to collect herself while he moved to who needed him next.
Throttle was still pulling himself together, fumbling to find where Modo had laid his specs. Maverick caught his arm easily, picked up the fallen item—knocked on the floor in his frantic search—and slipped them onto his face. “Lie back down, I’ve got this.”
Throttle blinked at him. “You sure?”
Modo nodded and moved towards the back screen door, finding Vinnie outside with the cracked and leaking perfume bottle. Now that the sharp smell of alcohol had faded, the actual scent started to come through. Only whispers of it now, as the notes had faded with age.
Modo strode through the back door, making his way towards the other mouse with ease and calm. “Well, let’s see the damage. I’m sure we can probably fix it, or put it in another bottle.”
Vinnie didn’t say anything. He was just glaring at the bottle, the smell starting to seep into his fur and skin along his hands and wrist. The smell of his mother, something he had long gotten used to the absence of.
“You guys had no business going in there.” He muttered to Modo, ignoring the proffered help. He sighed in frustration. “Why does she just…think she can walk back in and everything’s okay?”
Modo looked at him carefully. “I think she doesn’t know what else to do. Fake it till you make it and all that.”
Vinnie glared out across the back yard. “Yeah well…it sucks.”
Modo squeezed his shoulder gently. “I know.”
He took the bottle from Vinnie’s hand, the other offering no resistance now and examined the crack and the chipped bit of glass in the dark blue bottle. “You know…I think Mama has something like this back at the house. Sure she wouldn’t mind lending you one of her old bottles to replace it.”
Vinnie tried to smile but it was weak. “Nah. It’s okay. Chuck it.”
“Really?”
“She’s gone. Been gone. And she’s not in that stupid bottle, or in that room either. I shouldn’t be so touchy about it.” He snarled at himself, digging his palm into his eyes. “Fuuuuck I need to get out of here. This place it’s just…full of fucking ghosts I’m not ready to deal with.”
“Jess isn’t a ghost. She’s here and she wants to help.”
“Maybe I don’t want her help.”
They were quiet for a moment, letting that settle between them. Vinnie heaved another huge sigh and leaned back, putting his head on Modo’s shoulder, glad of the rock-steady feel of it. “I really, really wanna go blow some shit up. Can we do that? Or go find some asshole and just…completely wreck his day?”
Modo patted his head affectionately. “Being a public menace isn’t going to fix things.”
“Sure it will! You just aren’t trying hard enough.”
“Hey bros!”
Throttle’s voice beckoned to them from inside and the pair ducked back through the door. The tan mouse was standing by the radio, Jessie joining him, now fully dressed, and biting her nails in nervous habit.
“Weather alert. They’re calling for a real kicker of a storm in our area. Rain advisory.” He grinned at them and the grin was catching, spreading from him to Modo and Vinnie.
“Guess that means we better get prepared! Let’s head back to the farm, bros! Mama and Sweep will need all the help they can get.”
“On it!”
Throttle was tearing around the house, quickly closing any windows and turning off lights. Jessie watched them, slightly confused, following her brother and Modo out the front door as they grabbed their boots and helmets, ready to ride back to the Maverick’s homestead.
“What are you guys on about it? It’s just rain. Shouldn’t we shelter in place?”
Vinnie scoffed. “Jeezus, Jess! Have you been under a rock? I don’t know how it is in the Out Flows but this far inland, when it rains, it’s party time!”
“We need to collect as much as we can. Don’t know how long it will be before another good downpour.” Modo explained. “Grab your bike, girl, we’re heading out.”
“Collect it? But you guys have city water out here, don’t you? I mean you must have, the wells would have dried up years ago.”
“Less talky more walky!!” Vinnie hissed at her, whistling for Cherry as she sped around to greet them. Throttle came riding up close behind with Lil’ Hoss following suit.
Modo moved to straddle his chopper, looking to Jessie. “You comin’?” He held out his hand, as if offering her a ride behind him.
She smiled at him flirtatiously. “Tempting offer, big fella.” She nodded, then gave a whistle for her own bike, which came screaming around the corner and stopped sharply beside her, engine gunning. “But I’ve got a better one. Race ya!”
She slipped onto the bike and immediately popped her into a hard wheelie, “Last one there is a pair of Plutarkian underwear!” She took off like a streak and Vinnie cursed, kicking Cherry into high gear.
“OH IT’S ON!”
He was gone in a cloud of dust before his other two bros could even get a start, streaking back and forth with Jessie across the cloud shadowed flat-lands towards the Maverick’s farmhouse in the distance.
“Yeesh…sometimes the resemblance between those two really shows.” Modo mumbled to himself.
Throttle shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one making time with one of them. At least it’s the pretty one.”
Modo looked at him, startled, but all the tan mouse did was shrug before speeding off and leaving him in the dust. “Oh mama…your son might really be in deep this time.”
Chapter Text
**
The front door of the Mavericks’s farmhouse was standing open when they arrived, following the trail across the hard-pan that eventually rolled in somewhat softer greener terrain of the cultivated farmland. Past the barn, where Modo could see the horned beasts and other smaller animals had already been herded inside to shelter from the oncoming storm. A roll of thunder helping to announce their arrival.
Primer and her grandmother were already darting in and out, carrying various buckets, tubs and water vessels through the door and setting them out along the edge of the porch, as if to catch all the soon to be run off from the roof.
Vinnie, the winner of their friendly little race, turned and smirked at his sister. “Still fast wheels this side of Tharsis,” he crooned, obviously pleased with the little win. She nodded back to him, deciding not to tell him she had let him win. The boost to his mood was better than any small ego boost she might get.
As Throttle and Modo pulled in behind them, Mama turned and waved to them, obviously glad for more helping hands. Primer paused beside her, raising a hand to her eyes to keep her hair from blinding her as another gust of wind picked up, making the wind chimes dance and sing.
“Well look what the Catatonian dragged in.” Primer grinned, waving excited as well. “Come on, it’s about to start! Can you smell it!?”
“Whooo! Sure can baby girl!” Modo called back, grinning into the bracing breeze as he took off his helmet. “Where do you need us, Mama?”
“Sweep and Rimfire are already putting down sandbags if you boys wanna help! There’s also a couple big tubs in the back and that need moved!” she instructed.
“On it!” Vinnie waved, ready to trot off.
“Ah-ah!” the old grey furred mouse called, stopping him in his tracks. “Just a moment, Vincent! Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He blinked at her and then moved up the steps hurriedly, letting the old woman pull him into a hug and planting a big kiss on her cheek in return.
“That’s my boy. You’re keeping out of trouble, yes?”
“Me? Trouble? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied, giving her a playful wink. But as she looked at him more carefully he relented and gave her a real nod. “No trouble, Mama. Promise. Besides, those two don’t let me get away with anything these days.” He looked back to Throttle and Mod, who pretended not to hear him.
She gave him a knowing nod and then looked past him to where Jessie stood watching and motioned her up to the porch as well.
“Now here’s someone that owes me more than a few years worth of ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous’!”
Jessie blushed, slightly flustered. Modo gave her a little nudge to coax her forward. “Mrs. Maverick! It’s so nice to see you again! I’m sorry it’s been so long—“
Mama didn’t let her finish, pulling the brother and sister together into an embrace. Both siblings glanced at each other, a shared tingle going through them. A feeling of nostalgia, love and time warp disorienting them for a moment.
When she pulled back, she looked at them both side by side, taking in time and the shadows of their youthful selves she still recognized in them. Her wild rambling daredevil children, all grown, home at last.
“My my…you know how to make a woman feel her age, I’ll say that.” She chuckled. She took Jessie’s hand in her softer, leathery one, keeping her aside while she waved Vinnie off to help with the rest.
“Primer and I can use your help here, honey. Now let’s see…”
Jessie knew of course she couldn’t refuse. The old woman would have whatever she wanted and she wouldn’t begrudge her any request, awkward and guilty as she might feel having been gone for so long. And for her part, Mama Maverick acted as though Jessie had only been gone on a long road trip. Away a few days or maybe a week. There was no slip in her sweetness towards her, her affection, because that would never waiver, whatever the distance.
The boys joined Rimfire and Sweep, who were in the process of moving dozens of heavy sandbags from the back of a large truck bed, using them to divert any washout from the rain to towards the low land of the farm, where the pond and small creak were and well away from the house or the animals.
“Let us give you a hand with those!” Modo called trotting over eagerly and loading himself up with four or five heavy bags before turning to add them to the makeshift wall they were creating.
Sweep had four herself on her shoulders, and rolled her eyes at Modo’s—perhaps unconscious effort—to upstage her. “About time! Was beginning to think maybe you had left without saying goodbye.” She chided.
“Mama raised me better than that.” He retorted to her.
“Uncle Modo bring those down here!” Rimfire called, ushering the big mouse towards him as he moved with own load further down to where they only had a few strays laid out.
For the moment the banter between the two competitive siblings was put on hold. Vinnie and Throttle approached the truck to take their own loads, and Sweep happily dropped several into the white furred mouse’s arms. “Vinnie, you finish off the line here, Throttle I need your help with Ol’ Blue, the thunder scares her and she won’t budge for me. Maybe she will for you.”
Vinnie laughed, “Ha! Look at that, new girlfriend prospects already.”
Throttle gave him a spiteful grin back and dropped two more heavy bags into Vinnie’s already full arms. “Sorry, did you say you needed more, Vincent?”
Vinnie wheezed and glared at him but they were already on the move, moving around the truck and climbing over one of the fences. They trotted across the grass towards where one lone horned beast stood stubbornly under a short tree, as though she were hiding from sky itself.
Blue was a sow, one fo the few females still left on the farm and she was long past her prime birthing or milking days. But the Maverick’s kept her all the same, as she was a family favorite. A sweet if not stubborn thing. And like them, the sow had her favorites among the mice. She responded best to Rimfire and Primer, but she tolerated Sweep well enough. But she just happened to have developed a strange sweet spot for the tan furred extension to their family.
“I can’t believe Ol’ Blue is still alive. Ain’t she pushing nearly 60 in beast years?”
Sweep shrugged, “Surprises me much as you. Guess there must be something she cares to stick around for.”
The sow lowed sadly as they approached, her tail wagging behind her. They approached her more cautiously, knowing if she was too anxious she might bolt or try bucking at them. And though her horns and tusks were nothing compared to a bull beasts, they were still nothing to laugh at.
“Hey Blue! Long time no see, pretty girl…” Throttle coaxed her and she lowed again, more softly and made a few little steps towards him, hoofs digging into he ground. He kept his hands out in front of him, cautiously reaching to touch her soft grey-blue head. She made a bleating sound and pressed into his palm and then cried again, moving closer to nuzzle into him. It was clear she still remembered him, even after years without a visit.
Sweep smiled, shaking her head. “Yep…she’s in love. Poor ol’ girl. I think she missed you.”
The tan mouse chuckled softly, but there was no mirth to, shaking his head. “What’s to miss?” he asked.
The sow answered however, nuzzling against him more urgently and making happy snorts and grunts at his affection, her broad face pressed into his belly and chest. The hot huff of air from her nose tickled, producing a real chuckle from him, and he melted a little. Stroking the sow’s head and back across her stringy coarsely blue mane and along her broad neck. Sweep watched him as she moved along the animal’s side, stroking her back.
“You look like it’s been a long couple of nights over there.” She offered. “Everything okay?”
He blinked up at her, as if confused by the question. “Well…I can’t say it hasn’t been eventful.” He sighed. Still petting and scratching Blue, he turned his eyes back towards the house and where Modo and Vinnie were hard at work.
“Vinnie’s been going through it. Misses Charlie like mad. Going stir crazy. We’ve been fighting so long that not having another battle to race off to his messin with his head a little. Now that Jess is home…I don’t think he knows what to do with himself.”
Sweep nodded mutely. “And how is Jess?” She kept her tone careful, even. But the other mouse knew her too well not to detect the unspoken questions beneath the obvious.
Throttle considered carefully, still looking back at the house. “I don’t know for sure. But I think things will come to a head soon. Whatever it is.”
With Blue calmer now, they began to guide her between them, herding her steadily towards the barn.
Sweep side-eyed him. “So. Modo confess his childhood crush yet?”
“No, but only cause Vinnie keeps diverting attention. Nothing out of the ordinary there.”
“And you hate it.” There was a knowingness in her voice that was only sharpened by her smirk.
“I do not.” He muttered back. He looked at Blue. “Do you hear this? Do you hear the way she’s spitting lies about me?”
Blue huffed in response, one big brow eye gazing at him like a giant marble.
“Well, to be honest I’m not thrilled about it either. Not bad enough to worry how it’s affecting our Vinnie, but…I know my brother. And the look in his eye when he came to pick up supplies yesterday…” She sighed heavily. “…He’s still pining for her. And that could mean a world of hurt. For all of them.”
They gazed at each other briefly as they walked, finally reaching the barn. Sweep left Blue with Throttle just long enough to go and open the heavy doors, allowing him to walk her inside. The other beasts lowed and grunted, as if urging Blue inside and she went without further fuss.
Throttle gave her a hug around her neck and clap on her side before letting her trot off towards the other sows, happy to be out of the wind.
“Well…not much I can do about it.” Throttle sighed.
Sweep put her hand on his shoulder and gave him that stern, older sister look he had gotten so used to over the years. “Just do what you do best, honey. Look after them.”
He looked back at her, and there was something confused in his gaze. As if to say he didn’t know if he that would be enough this time. But whatever uncertainty he felt was pushed down and he nodded dutifully. “I always do, don’t I?”
He was trying to assure her, but it was Sweep who pulled him in then, hugged him from the side and kissed his temple and then his cheek. Grateful for him. Worried for him too. “You take care of yourself too, alright? And if you need a shoulder to cry on, it’s always here.”
Throttle nodded mutely, letting himself linger in that embrace for a moment. Needing it more than he realized.
The sky above them grew darker, the clouds swelling, sinking lower still until they were laying over the farm and the flatland and canyon beyond like a rain soaked quilt, making the air taste heavy, sweet and electric with the rain it promised to unleash.
They waited, all gathered now on and around the porch, silent in anticipation.
The first few drops hit the roof of the farmhouse. Too soft to be heard. More followed, a trickle that produced small visible dots in the dust around their feet. They held out their hands, feeling the drops as they sprinkled down, trying to catch them and hold them. Ephemeral and precious.
The rain made tinkling noises across the gutters and as they splashed down into the plethora of collected basins and vessels, making music of their own.
For long moments, the group was silent. Just listening. As if afraid to interrupt it, or cause the phenomenon to case. Superstitious and silly. But when you had been made desperate for what once was ordinary, the mundane takes on a greater significance. Becomes magical and unpredictable.
The youngest of the bunch, the latest additions to the Maverick lineage, moved further from the shelter of the porch eve and stood in the stray, feeling it grow stronger as the cloud burst gained strength. No more just mist and spray but real rain. There were not as many years between them and the last time this had been their norm. Their childhood after all, had still been green. And they could remember it clearly still.
Remembered sprinting home across fields from where they had been playing. Racing to where their father would be calling them from the porch. Both Rimfire looked back at once, as if sharing the same memory, and looked to where Enfield would have been standing on the third porch step. Feeling his absence like a paper-cut.
It hit Rimfire first, his eyes welling and spilling over in a matter of seconds. Rain splashed down on his face and mixed with the tears. And for the first time in a long time when he thought about his father, he felt like he wasn’t so far out of reach.
Primer began to laugh, looking up onto the clouds, letting the fat droplets now coming in quick irregular patterns soak into her face and hair, making the blonde tresses stick to her face and neck.
Her laugh was infectious, and Rimfire followed, head tilted back to take in more of drops. The wind gusted again, making a silvery sheet of water ripple over them. The older generation moved into the open too, faces all turned towards the sky. The water soaked into them, running in rivulets through their hair and fur, seeping into clothing and rushing down their frames to puddle at their feet.
The red-orange dust turned a darker shade of rust under the liquid assault, running more red than orange now. Mud beginning to form with haste. The tall grass, yellow green in the sunlight seemed to glow under the spray, hurriedly soaking up the draught and steadily deepening it’s hue to a bluer green.
Primer bent and scooped up a handful of the newly formed clay-like mud, letting it run through her fingers. She looked up mischievously at her brother, who quickly shook his head. “Don’t…don’t you even—!”
She squealed and slung the clod at him, letting it splatter across his chest. Rimfire stared at her, mouth hanging open, but only for a moment before bending down and scooping up a double fist of his own.
“Hey now! Hey, you don’t play fair--!” She yelped, laughing too hard to fully get the words out before he was on her, slapping the mud onto her face and in her hair. She roared and grabbed him in retaliation, trying to get as much of the slop on him as possible.
“Hey now! You two are too old to be—!” Sweep gasped, only for Modo to sling a handful of the stuff at her, catching her along the side of her face. She turned and glared at him and the big grey mouse cursed softly and made a run for it. He didn’t get more than a few feet before she tackled him, the pair rolling in the dirt.
Mama Maverick sighed from her place on the porch step. “I’m not doing all that laundry, I’ll tell you that much.”
Vinnie, attempting to ambush Throttle from behind, found himself thwarted as the tan mouse’s tail looped around his ankle and pulled his feet out from under him, upending him and sending him flat on his back with he bucket of water he’d been holding sloshed all up and down him, adding to the mud that now covered his back side.
“HEY!” Vinnie howled. “You don’t need those glasses, you’ve got eyes in the back of your damn head!” he laughed.
Throttle snickered, shaking his head. “Maybe I could just smell you coming, ever think of—AHH!” Modo had caught him in his distraction, pulling his vest away from his back and heaving a now full pitcher of mud-ruined water down his back, soaking him completely.
“You were saying?” their older bro grinned.
Throttle shuddered, feeling the water even fill and slosh out of the top of his boots. As his bros cackled at his comeuppance, the tan mouse ducked and got heavy fist-fulls of clay and grinned viciously at them before splattering one across Vinnie’s face and spinning to shove the rest down the front of Modo’s jeans.
“UCK!”
Another clod of mud was smashed into Throttle’s hair and in minutes all three of them were howling and cursing and laughing, wrestling in the mud slick like giant muscled toddlers.
The only two Mice who were now not completely drenched stood together on the porch steps. Jessie shook her head, trying to cover her laughter as she watched them all. Watched their shared joy, the easy bond between all of them. Feeling as if she had been so divorced from such closeness and comradery longer than she wanted to admit.
She felt the old woman’s hand settle on her back, rubbing there and catching her attention. “You know, you don’t have to keep your distance.” She offered.
“I know…” Jessie sighed. “Guess I just feel like an intruder.”
“You can’t intrude if you’re invited.” Mama nodded sagely. While she let Jessie absorb this she studied how the vessels were filling, pleased to see many were already nearly half full.
She reached and plucked up one of her nicer pitchers, cradling it close against her as she stepped further back onto the porch. “I’m going to get this one started in the filter. I’ll make a big batch of sun-tea as soon as the storm passes.” She mused, mostly to herself. She glanced to Jessie again. “You do have a change of clothes here, don’t you sweet pea?”
“Huh? Oh yeah,” Jessie nodded, absently.
“Good.” Mama nodded.
She looked towards the rest of the rowdy lot and gave a loud whistle that caught all their attention. The old woman nodded towards Jessie—her fur almost luminous white in the rain—unblemished by the mud the rest of them were caked in. “I think you missed a spot!” she crooned, before excusing herself.
Last thing she heard before stepping back inside was Jessie’s squeal as they set on her, dragging her into the brawl with them.
**
The heaviest of the cloud burst lasted for a little more than an hour, slowly tapering off into a low, steady drizzle as the heaviest part of the storm moved off to other parts of the parched region.
All of the Mice save Mama Maverick staid out in the downpour as long as they could stand, all drenched through as if they had been swimming. By the end of it, most of the mud had washed from them, and the euphoria of the event had dimmed back into quiet reverence.
Thunder continued to roll in the distance, another front moving in slowly behind this one. Promising more rain through the night and possibly into the next day.
They had gathered up the full smaller vessels and hurried them to the large filter in the basement of the house, quick to replace each vessel they took as it was emptied. This would promise weeks of fresh water for the house and the farm itself. Something they would strive to make last as long as they could. It might be weeks, even months before real rain came again.
The girls had all headed inside to wash off the mess in different bathrooms, while the boys were on the back porch, stripping out of drenched and sopping clothing and letting the rain be their outdoor shower, all grateful that the Maverick farm had plenty of privacy and a good distance from the main road.
Throttle grunted, sitting on the edge of the porch in just his underwear while he tried to comb the last of the dirt clods from his hair with his fingers. “I oughta shave the pair of you for this…” he muttered to his bros.
Vinnie, strutting around in his birthday suit carelessly as he soaped himself down just snickered. “Hey, that’s the price of vanity, pretty boy. Not all of us are so high maintenance. Some of us are just effortlessly flawless.” He grinned, using a piece of scrap metal to admire his reflection and make sure he hadn’t missed any mud. His fur still thick and matted with soap suds from the bar soap he was using.
Throttle made a gagging sound in response.
Modo joined him on the porch, pulling on clean shorts since his previous pair were beyond saving, red packed with clay after Throttle’s frontal assault. “Hey I don’t even want to here it. I’ve got pebbles where the sun don’t shine after all that.”
Rimfire was toweling dry, heading inside. “I’ll bring us out some towels. If the girls left us any.”
“Thanks, nephew.” Modo nodded, grateful. As he looked back to Vinnie he sighed. “Can you please put your pants back on, bro? I don’t remember signing up for a full frontal.”
“Yer just jealous.” Vinnie replied airily. “It’s okay, I’ve come to accept it.”
“Again, I am not beyond shaving you. I’ll make you match that baby picture of yours.” Throttle reminded him, finally his hair from his face, satisfied most of the dirt was gone.
Modo laughed out loud at the memory and even harder at the indignant look Vinnie shot their middle brother. “Watch it…” the masked mouse warned.
Lightning crackled pink and green overhead, a thunder clap drawing their attention skyward briefly. They watched the neon crackles chase each other over head, striking the tips of rock faces and then spiking down like a finger from the gods into the flatlands beyond. Striking well past the trailer and landing several strikes near the cemetery.
Another echoing rumble joined the heavenly noise, but this thundering sound was not skyward. Instead, it came from the ground. The trio watched the far distant edge of the road as a pack of riders came rolling fast along the old highway. Cutting along the farthest edge of the farm land.
Six or seven motorcycles rolled past them, one or two trailing off from the pack and rolling towards them at the edge of the trail.
All three Biker Mice stood in alert, Vinnie finally making a quick grab from his own shorts hanging off the edge of the porch and yanking them on as the riders came within shouting distance of them.
“What the hell? Where’d they blow in from?” the white furred mouse asked, moving closer to his bros to confer.
Modo jumped down from the porch and strode towards them, Vinnie and Throttle quick to flank him as they made towards the sparse and weathered fencing that edged the farm from the road.
The rider, still hidden behind his dark helmet raised a hand in greeting, but didn’t cut his engine. Neither did his partner.
“Can we help you, citizen?” Mood asked, remaining polite but guarded. Ready to defend against this stranger should they make any strange or sudden moves.
“Looking for a place to shelter for the night. How far to Brimstone?” the dark clad rider answered. Throttle was the first to spot the patch on his jacket. The same emblem that matched the mark on Jessie’s stunner.
“You’re just on the edge of town.” Modo answered. “You keep following the road it’ll take you directly into the city. There’s a hotel about a mile in, and probably a hostel or two if that’s full up.” He instructed, pointing to the road where the rest of the biker pack had drifted down, all peeled to the side of the road as they waited for the rest of their group.
The rider nodded. “Alright. Thanks for the directions.”
“Hell of a time for a ride,” Vinnie cut in, looking at them pointedly. “Did you miss the alert or something? Flash floods come on in a blink of an eye this far out. You should be more careful.”
The rider gazed at him steadily and through the tint of his visor Vinnie could see some of the details of his face. A rugged looking mouse with a hard stare looked back at him appraisingly and grinned. “We aren’t afraid of a little mud, pal. But thanks for the heads up.”
He surveyed the lot of them slowly. “You lot look familiar. Have a I seen you somewhere before?”
Vinnie grinned then, “Well, just so happens you’re standing in the presence of The Biker Mice from Mars. Only Mars’s baddest motor-jammers, heroes of the Red Planet and beyond.”
He waited for their praise and astonishment but all that came was a low snicker. “Never heard of you.” The stranger replied.
While Vinnie dealt with the direct blow to his ego, Modo was quick to press on. “We won’t keep you then. The weather’s turning a little wild. You keep on heading east and you’ll get where you’re going in about 2 miles. I’d hurry if I were you.” His voice was still even and courteous, but there was an edge of warning to it now. A signal not to wear out their welcome.
The stranger nodded, and caught the way the silent member of the party was eyeing his jacket. “See something interesting, partner?”
Throttle shifted his gaze to him. “Not particularly.” Was his only answer, cold and to the point.
The stranger’s smirk disappeared. He gunned his engine, his partner doing the same and they turned and sped away back towards the rest of their pack, roaring down the mud slick road again at dangerously high speed.
“What a douche!” Vinnie gasped. “Never heard of us my ass…”
“Looks like a heap of trouble. Lets hope the storm blows it away from us.” Modo nodded, watching until the other bikers faded further into the distance, washed away in the grey haze of rain. They started back towards the house, and Throttle glanced up, spotting someone watching them from one of the upstairs windows.
She moved immediately upon being spotted, but he knew it had been Jessie.
***
Chapter Text
***
From the bedroom window, Jessie watched the road and paced. The fact that Rod and his gang had ridden all this way was telling of her situation.
It could not have been coincidence that they would have traveled here. Someone must have seen her, given them some sort of tip off. Rod was not that clever, but the people he answered to were. And Slick Szylack had spies everywhere.
There was the urge to make her way to the door, grab her bike, and hightail it in the other direction. Only stopping long enough to refuel her bike and herself before heading out again. And to just keep doing that. All the way to the Polar Icecaps if she had to.
But in the more rational, but still scared part of her mind, she knew that was just a fantasy. She had already run so far. And here he was. If he could find her here, he could find her anywhere.
She paced the floor in front of the window over and over. Back and forth. Back and forth. Bare feet beginning to learn the groove and grain of the wood beneath them. Learning where each step would fall, and how the wood below it would react.
Where it would creak and groan beneath her weight.
She had taught herself similar things in the shitty apartment she had lived in back in the Out Flows. The sound his footsteps, hers, and other strangers made, going to and from. Learning to decipher even the mood of the walker before she saw their face or spoke a word to them, just by the sound of their step. Rod had stomped all the time. But it got harder, and quicker when he was angry. It would shake the house when he was furious.
The day it had ended between them, he had prowled the house like that. Back and forth, muttering to himself, while she watched anxiously from their bedroom door, waiting for it to subside. Waiting for the storm in him to quiet and abate, when she could talk to him, reason with him.
But it didn’t seem like it was going to end any time soon. She had gotten up from their bed, wearing shorts and one of his shirts and made her way to the door, arms wrapped cautiously around herself as she watched him.
He had been in a mood since his last “meeting” with their contact. The mysterious informant who dictated the biker gangs supply runs and surveillance rides through the wastelands, supposedly directing them to travelers or smaller outposts and towns in need. But it had been a long time now since their rides had done anything so charitable or altruistic. Lately, everything was smuggling weapons from one depot to another and half the gang getting in a firefight along the way.
Jessie had gone from providing care and comfort to those they rescued from a Sand Raider attack or storm, to patching up her fellow riders who were riddled with lazor burns, knife wounds and bullet holes.
The gang had not been back to home base for more than a few days, most still licking their wounds from the last run. Now it seemed they would going again, sooner than expected.
He spied her looking at him and paused, snarling in exasperation. “What?”
She did her damndest not to flinch, not to back down from the tantrum. He worked himself up like this. And when he did, she had to be the one to stay calm and focused. “…you told me this was the last time. That we were done running for them.”
He made an angry disgusted noise at the question, looking away from her. “Yeah! Yeah I know what I fucking said! But this is big, Jess…it’s big, and you don’t just…you can’t just say no to them, you know?”
“Why?!” she gasped. “Rod, this is bullshit. You know it’s bullshit! They are using us!”
He glared at her, glassy-eyed, angry and slightly drunk. Like he always was these days. He pointed at her, wagging his finger. “That’s not…that’s not true. This is for the cause, Jess. We run for them, they get what they need, we get what we need. So we can keep helping. Keep fighting.”
She looked at him with a mix of pity and disgust, shaking her head. It hurt to see him like this. Strung out and grasping at straws. The life they had tried to build here, the name he had tried to make for himself…a crumbling façade that wasn’t fooling anyone anymore. Maybe not even him. But he would be damned if he admitted it.
“There’s nothing out here to fight for anymore. This place has been dying for years, and we’re about the last residents in town. We’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks. We should pick up and move on. Head inland where there are still towns that maybe need us.”
“We aren’t going anywhere.” He muttered. “We fought too hard for this place. Or did you forget that?”
She quieted for a moment, looking at the floor and her bare feet on it. “I know. I know we did.” She offered quietly, instinctively softening as if this would lower his guard, relax him. It used to work. But it was getting harder.
“But baby…the town is lost. Everyone that survived the last few raids have all moved on. I feel like…I’m living in a bone yard here. Don’t you?” She asked. She shivered, a small uncomfortable chill running up her spine. Like someone had walked over her grave.
He said nothing, looking away from her now and dropping down slowly in the faded mustard yellow recliner, staring at the floor for a long moment and then back to her.
Normally she would have walked over to him, crawled into his lap and kissed him all over, trying to make it better. Let him bend her and bruise her and take her however he needed to lessen the storm in his head.
It didn’t matter if it had long since stopped bringing her any kind of pleasure. It didn’t matter that it hurt her more often than not. As long as afterwards he returned to baseline. Got himself in check so that he would not recklessly and stupidly put the rest of them in danger.
That was how she fixed him. And he said he loved her for it.
But that wasn’t love.
“We don’t move. Not unless the plans change.” He sighed, resolute and resigned.
She should have given up. Left it at that. But she was so tired of bowing to his inaction. To his shit choices. Much as it scared her, she pushed pack. Tepidly, testing.
“I thought you made the plans?” She mumbled.
His eyes flicked towards her, a silent warning in them as he reached to finish his bottle of beer. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He muttered.
She tried again, more boldly this time. “Just say it. You’re staying because of them. You’re staying to do their dirty work and get paid in blood money. Just say it. You want to be feel powerful, even if it’s a lie.”
He smiled nastily at her, his face curdling with it and wagged that condescending finger at her again. “You know that ‘blood money’ has paid for your medicines right? Your med-kits? Your anesthetic and disinfectant. Those new patches that heal wounds from the inside? Those are top of the line, a pretty penny. You didn’t seem to mind where the money came from then.”
She frowned darkly. “And what has it paid for lately? Your gambling, your bike upgrades…whatever the hell you got up to at The Roadhouse a couple nights ago?” She hissed.
He shrugged his shoulders, petulant. “You said it was fine. A guy deserves to blow off a little steam. Thought you liked your presents I brought you back. That pretty nightie and those earnings?”
She felt her stomach curdle at the thought, more disgust and shame boiling in her. She didn’t want to back down, wasn’t going to let him hold something like that over her head. Something she hadn’t wanted or asked for. It was just distraction from what was really going on.
“You know, you’ve gotten real moody and lippy ever since you took that ride inland couple days ago.” He mused, the idea bubbling to the surface. “You been talking to someone while I had my back turned?”
She sighed and licked her lips. A small tell that he may or may not have been aware of. “Who the hell would I talk to, Rod? You’re all I got.”
He nodded slowly, skeptical but seeming satisfied with her answer.
It hadn’t occurred to him that Jessie could or would do anything on her own. It hadn’t yet come to his attention that she had found a sizable chunk of what he’d been using to pay for their upgrades. The gold gills that were part of the black market headed by Slick Szylack and the Sand Raider warlords who were buying and selling what remained of their war-torn planet for their own personal gain.
He never would have thought that she had taken part of the money and stashed it in her family’s abandoned trailer. Insurance for a rainy day that was coming sooner than either of them expected.
“That’s right.” He nodded, seeming assured of her dependency on him. That there was no real threat of change. “So you’d better show me some respect.”
This was more than Jessie could take.
“You’re running weapons for Szylack and getting paid in Plutarkian gold gills to roam around the desert and pick off people you don’t agree with! That’s not helping anyone Rod! You’re not even a fucking bounty hunter; you’re a hired thug!”
He was up moving towards her, feet stomping on the floor as he moved. He pulled his stunner from his belt and pressed the barrel of it between her breasts. It dug into her, pressing against her sternum, trying to push her back into the room towards the bed. But she wouldn’t be budged, gripping the door frame and staring him down.
“You shut up. Just shut up! You’re always riding me about this shit! You always think you know best—“
“I’m trying to help you! That’s all I’ve ever been trying to do!” She barked back, her own eyes glassy as she fought between emotions. Her pity and affection for this lost man that she had thought cared for her, and the rage and disappointment that had slowly strangled it.
“You wanna help? “ he sneered, mocking her. “Get on your knees and blow me. That’s how you can help.”
He smirked at her, almost laughed. As if he thought this was funny.
For a split second longer she looked at him, processing this. How he thought this was funny.
Her pity for him died that day.
She gripped the gun and twisted it in his hand, forcing his grip on it to break so that his wrist wouldn’t. As he cursed, she pressed forward and slapped him hard, the weapon now in her possession. “How dare you! How dare you?!”
He sputtered, palm against his offended cheek. His red eyes were wide and startled, enough to take some of the drunken daze from them. It was clear that he had forgotten who she was when they first met. Forgot she was not some timid wallflower, easily cowed by his cheap brand of meanness. That her kindness, her affection, was not weakness he could bend and exploit. It was her gift, and she could revoke it at any time.
“Goddamn bitch you hit me!” He whined. Whined at her, like a child.
Her lip quivered and then tightened into a thin line as she exhaled, holding his weapon at the floor, arm shaking because she wanted so badly to turn it on him.
Jessie opened her mouth, jaw working hard as she forced the words out. “Yeah. I hit you. Doesn’t feel so great, does it?”
He started to retort but she stepped towards him. Once more, something he hadn’t expected. He retreated and she stared at him. Her breath escaped her in a huff and then in a short, surprised laugh. Mirthless and full of epiphany.
“Oh. I see.”
She looked at him a moment longer, shaking her head, then turned and moved back into the bedroom, immediately gripping for her duffle and throwing whatever lose items were still about the room into it.
He watched her for a moment or two, and when she had stuffed the blaster into her waistband he made a move forward.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He muttered at her.
She didn’t look at him. “What I should have done a long time ago.” She muttered back. She zipped the bag shut, stepped into her boots and grabbed her jacket from the bedpost. “I’m done. I quit. You and the guys are gonna have to patch yourselves up from now on.”
“You’re not leaving, Jessie.”
She looked at him hard. “The hell I’m not. You think you’re so tough, trying to throw your weight around, make everyone think you’re some kind of Freedom Fighter but you aren’t half the mice they are. You’re a bully, Rod. That’s all you’ve ever been.”
His glassy eyes bulged at her words, but no sound but small, outraged sputtering came out of his mouth.
He gripped the sides of the door with both hands, as if he were blocking her path to escape. She scowled at him and reached to lift the duffle, planning to push her way past him, with her fist if necessary.
She didn’t expect him to launch himself at her then, moving like a pro wrestler bouncing out of his corner of the ring. She didn’t expect the fist flying so hard and fast that when it hit her, first in the face and then in the stomach, all she could do was fold.
Falling to the floor gasping, only for him to grab her by the hair and throw her onto the mattress. She had screamed as he fell on her, but his fists were coming too hard and too fast.
The beating she took that day, kept her quiet and complacent for another six months. Six months of living in fear and biding her time. Plotting her escape. But she hadn’t run far enough.
A sound behind her, a new footstep on the floorboard, startled her from her memories. She whirled, almost ready to scream, reaching for a weapon she no longer had at the ready.
Her brother stood in the doorway of the bedroom, looking at her cautiously. “I know that look.” He said after a moment, stepping fully into the room now and moving towards her watchful place at the window.
“What?” she rasped, trying to conceal the tremor in her voice and fingers, steadying her hand against her collarbone and tapping restlessly.
“It’s the same look I used to have when dad would catch me joy riding on his bike.” Vinnie explained. He glanced out the window, staring up and down the road. Outside, the storm had died down to steady fine mist, but thunder still rolled softly in the distance. He sighed, settling against the wall.
He seemed older to her then. More somber and serious. Suddenly all the years between their last meeting were very apparent, and he was no longer her wild-child of a little brother. He was a veteran, who had lived a whole life without her knowing. Almost older now that their parents had ever been.
“Look…I know it’s easy to write me off as the guy with the big mouth and the big ego. And maybe I am that guy…but I’m not dumb, Jess. You’re scared shitless right now, and that gang of riders definitely has something to do with it.”
Her throat tightened. “I don’t know—”
“You can’t lie to me.” Vinnie cut in, more sternly than she had ever heard him speak. “Dammit, Jess…I know it’s been a long time. But I’m still your brother. And I know you.”
Her face crumbled, trying to keep her composure but failing. “This is something you can’t help me with.” She said quietly. “It’s not fair of me to ask you to do that.”
“What does fair have to do with it?” Vinnie demanded then. “We’re family. That’s supposed to mean something. It’s supposed to mean looking out for each other. If I was in trouble, Modo and Throttle would be there, instantly. I wouldn’t even have to ask. They’re just…there.” He smiled a little at the thought, assured in this solid truth. “Why wouldn’t it be the same for you?”
The siblings stood together in the darkened bedroom, the offer standing between them. Vinnie looking at her, worried but eager, ready to put aside their differences, at least for the moment.
Her eyes glimpsed his mask then, the metal catching the gleam of the flashing lightning outside. It was an unbidden and uncomfortable reminder of what he had been through. That what she was looking at wasn’t an aesthetic accessory. That the mask was covering damage from battles fought before. Battles she had left him to fight on his own.
Jessie had a flash then, what her mother had once said was her “intuition”. A vivid rush of imagery, as stark as a recent memory, but of something that had not yet come to pass. A premonition. A fluke. A possibility.
She saw her baby brother, bloodied and beaten, fighting to defend her. While Rod stood over him, a bloodied pipe in his hand, ready to send it crashing down on Vinnie’s skull. She thought she heard the crack of the metal hitting bone, and she gasped and looked away.
“Jess?”
He was at her elbow, more worried now. She shuddered and tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t go. Pulling her and hugging her tight. “Hey…hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is…it’s going to be okay.”
She cried, unable to help herself. She shook her head but hid her face in his shoulder, arms gripping him tight.
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Jess. Promise.”
She sobbed softly, and just let him hold her. Unsure if she would be able to offer the same.
***
Chapter Text
***
The rain and general stormy conditions lingered for the rest of the day, keeping the Mavericks and their extended kin close in the farm house’s safety and general comfort.
Mama Maverick was quiet enjoying herself. For the first time in a long time she had all her children gathered close, where she could feed them and care for them, and see with her own two eyes that they were safe and well. It was a luxury that the war had forced her to give up, and one that she thought she lost all together for many years after. No one could blame her then if she wanted things to linger a little longer.
From the kitchen, she could watch and hear her family mill about, and began to pick bits and pieces of their conversation out. As she made fresh tea from the newly filtered water, she glimpsed Modo and Jessie, sitting quietly together in the den.
As she worked, she would catch glimpses of them from afar. Saw the way Modo could not take his eye off her, how he leaned in close and listened so attentively when the pretty young woman spoke. It was not so different when he had been much younger man, mooning over from afar. Her boy was love struck, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. And though she knew her daughter worried—as she always had by her nature—Mama was glad. Her son had so much love to give, and he deserved to experience it. He had lived such a wild and dangerous life for so long. Had outlived many of his peers. A little bit of softness seemed due.
She made her way into the living room, walking softly as to not interrupt the conversation between them. They only noticed her once she was standing in front of them, putting the tray of drinks down on the table in front of them.
They both blushed a little, smiling and looking away when she entered. Engulfed in their own little world, and feeling a bit flustered to have it interrupted.
“Thank you,” Jessie said quickly and earnestly, picking up her already sweating glass. “It looks delicious.”
“Mama makes the best, and even better when we get real water.” Modo nodded, picking up his own glass and taking a hefty chug of it.
“Everything’s better when you can get the real thing.” Mama nodded with a little wink. Beyond the den she could hear Vinnie and Rimfire loudly playing some table game, and the sound of the rain from beyond the screened door of the back porch. “I want you all to stay here tonight. They broadcasted that these storms could be moving through the area for the next day or so. I’ll need help with things.”
“Of course, Mama.” Modo nodded, as if this was a given.
Jessie looked slightly anxious, shifting in her seat ever so slightly. “Thank you so much, but…are you sure it wouldn’t be imposing?”
The steel-haired woman gave the younger one a firm glance. “Jessica Van Wham. Having you or your brother in my house has never, not ever, been an imposition. Besides, if I’m getting you to do chores than it’s not as if you’re simply bumming around.”
Jessie nodded and relaxed, if only a little, taking another sip of her drink.
Mama moved on with her tray of drink, and once her back was turned, Modo put his hand on Jessie’s knee lightly. “Relax. She’s glad you’re here.” He assured her. “Believe me, if she could keep us all here indefinitely and ply us with sweets and mixed drinks, she’d be a happy camper.”
Jessie nodded appreciatively and Modo leaned a little closer, looking at her a bit more seriously this time. “Seriously…if you feel safer here. You’re welcome to stay.”
“Safer?” she asked, almost choking on her drink. She flustered, suddenly worried Vinnie might have said something after their earlier encounter upstairs. But Modo quieted her, hand still on her knee.
“Jess. It’s okay. Really.” He assured. “Besides…the beds are better here and it smells a hell of a lot better. And that’s coming form me.” He added, giving her a wink. She relaxed a little more then, realizing he wasn’t going to press for more information.
She slipped her hand over his and squeezed it softly, letting her fingers lace with his. “Thank you.” She said quietly.
Mama made her way past where Vinnie, Rimfire and Sweep were seated at card table in the next room, doused in the warm glow of the low hanging lamps, and knee deep in a card came and something a little stronger than her tea.
Vinnie grinned devilishly and threw his cards on the table. “Read ‘em and weep bros!” he laughed, leaning back in his chair, feet up on the edge.
Rimfire frowned sourly. “What?! How can you win again that’s three hands in a row! You’re cheating!” he chided.
Sweep huffed, pushing Vinnie’s feet off the table and sat down her own cards. “Nice set, little bro, but I think I beat you.” She laid her own hand out neatly across the table, and the boys stared at it.
“Hey! How did you--!”
“You got cocky, that’s how! You have the worst tell, Van Wham, I ALWAYS know what cards you’re holding and that’s why you can never beat me.” Sweep smirked at him, obviously pleased with herself.
“Alright, alright, best out of 6 then, lets go—” Vinnie gathering up the cards to shuffle again as Sweep smiled at his attempt to save face and Rimfire groaned.
“I hate this game…”
“You hate it because you’re bad at it.” His mother teased and her son scoffed in mock offense.
Mama didn’t interrupt them, setting more drinks down close by and only pausing to kiss Rimfire’s head as the other two were embroiled in their little back and forth.
She made her way across the polished floorboards to the screen door then, spotting Throttle and Primer on the porch, lying in the puddle of lamp light as they watched listened to the rain, the world beyond them swallowed up by night again.
“Oh my…” Mama sighed, breathing in the cool damp air deeply. “Not often it gets like this does it? Reminds me of when I was a little girl.”
Primer looked up at her grandmother from her reclined spot on the porch, dressed in pajamas with her hair tied up in braids to keep it out of the way. Her uncle was up at once, reaching to help Mama with the tray, but the old woman waved him off.
“Sit down, sit down…you do enough!” she chided. She handed both of them a glass and then set the now empty tray aside. “Mind if I join you two for a minute?”
“Well it is your house, Grandma.” Primer chuckled.
They gazed into the dark together, listening to the night sounds and the songs of small animals rejoicing at the rain. As the wind continued to blow softly, they got glimpses between the clouds of the canyons in the distance, and the few short trees that swayed softly. Diemos poked its face out briefly to illuminate the world, continuing it’s casual and constant trailing across the sky, always chasing its brother.
The three shared silent company for a few moments, breathing in the coolness of the dark. Mama folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head slightly. “Those riders from earlier, they came up from the south?” she asked.
Primer glanced up at her from the cradle of her arms as she laid on her stomach, looking sleepy. “What riders?”
But Throttle knew exactly what she meant. “Suppose so. They didn’t have much to say. Were heading into town for the night, looking for a place to crash.”
“Well, Brimstone could always do with more business. Not many travelers these days…things have dried up, I suppose. Too many highways destroyed to make travel as safe and easy as it used to be.”
“Not much to go to beyond Brimstone,” Primer yawned, settling again. “What’s the point?”
Neither of her elders said anything in response, but both were thinking plenty. Mama looked down at Throttle and then put her hand lightly through the back of his hair. He looked up at her, as if slightly startled by the touch. She just smiled down at him. “You’re growing your hair out.”
He shrugged. “Too lazy to cut it, really.”
He fingers curled around the short ponytail it had formed. “Your daddy wore it like this too. Always very handsome. I always did like a man with a good head of hair.”
“Wasn’t granddaddy bald?” Primer asked, cracking one eye towards her grandmother.
Mama Maverick gave her a sly side-eye and Throttle laughed at the teasing. She bent slowly, easing herself down onto the porch beside them. “I’m sorry about your girl, sweetpea. I know you’re gonna feel that loss for a long time.”
His face fell and he stared into the dark again. The weight of the stone she’d returned to him felt heavy in his pocket.
“Makes sense though, doesn’t it?” he asked her. “We fell in love in the middle of a war. Everything felt so…intense and urgent. It’s weird how that goes. How something that feels so right in the heat of it all…just sort of fades away after the fire goes out.” His face fell and he stared into the mud beyond the porch. “It’s my fault. I left. All that time, wondering, not knowing if I’d come back. It wasn’t fair to her.”
“But you did come back.” Mama offered. “So what then?”
He blinked, not sure he understood. “I don’t know…we just couldn’t…”
Primer rolled onto her side and looked at him pointedly. “You know, you can love someone, and not be in love with them.”
Now her uncle blinked at her, finding this curious coming from his somewhat sheltered and reclusive niece, whom to his knowledge had never so much as had a date. “Well, look who’s suddenly worldly.” He teased.
“I’m serious. Happens to me all the time.”
“Does it now?” Mama added, clearly curious herself.
Primer looked at them both flatly. “You guys really think that all I do is do chores around this place and run errands in town for Mama? Ya’ll don’t know my life.” She rolled her eyes at them and they both laughed a little unable to help themselves.
She got up with a disgusted grunt. “I’ll be right back,” she muttered disappearing into the house, the screen door clattering behind her.
“That girl’s gonna rattle the stars one day,” Throttle mused. “Just hope she’ll give us a heads up before hand.”
“She’s the quiet type. Plays it close to the vest.” Mama nodded. “But she is right, you know. About loving and not being in love.” She sat a little closer to him. “Can I say something you may not like?”
He nodded slowly.
She looked at him thoughtfully, pushing his hair away from his eyes to see him better, not letting him hide. “I think you wanted her to let you go.”
“What?”
“Hear me out,” she cautioned. “Just…listen.”
She waited and when he didn’t move or look away from her she began again. “Now I know that I’m just an old woman tending her farm and trying to scrap out what’s left of a living out here. But I see things. And I hear things. And, young man, I have watched you grow from the time you were barely hip high to me. In a lot of ways, you are still that strange quiet little boy, standing in my door way, looking through my window to see if your playmate was around.”
Throttle shook his head. “Is this your round about way of saying I was a creepy kid?”
She ruffled his hair to shush him. “Lonely, is what I would call it. You waited to be invited in. You never pestered, you never even openly asked. You just…waited. Patient. I think you would have stood on this porch all day waiting if I had decided to ignore you. But the moment you got my blessing—not to mention my boy’s-- you made yourself right at home. My point is…you don’t assume you’re wanted. You always feel like you have to earn it. Is that right?”
He said nothing, which only confirmed it.
“I think…you felt like you didn’t earn her. Or that you did something wrong. So that spark you two had, it turned into something else. And maybe you think that’s a bad thing now, but I don’t think it will be in the end.”
“Mama…”
She pulled him in and kissed his temple. “Someone’s gonna come along one day, baby, who isn’t gonna hesitate to let you in. That will be the one. I know it.”
He put his head on her shoulder and she hugged him, sitting like that in the pool of lamplight.
Primer returned, halfway through some baked good, her cheeks still full. Seeing her porch companions like this made her smile and settled down next to them again. “If you need more cure for heartache, there’s pie in the kitchen.” She said through another mouthful of the sticky-sweet crumbly stuff.
“If pie were a cure-all darlin, I have a feeling we’d all be a lot better off. If not possibly larger.” Throttle replied.
“Now, if only we could figure out how to get our Vincent to settle down.” Mama sighed.
Primer laughed, spitting crumbs. “Never gonna happen…”
“Someone call my name?” Vinnie asked suddenly, appearing in the doorway. He grinned at them all, “Mind if I join?”
“You get tired of Sweep creaming you at cards?” Throttle sighed. “As usual?”
He scoffed, settling down next to him. “Please. I let her win. It is her house after all.”
Thunder rolled softly in the distance, announcing another front approaching. They all looked up attentively, searching for lightning in the dark skies above.
But something else caught their attention then. Rumbling of a new kind. Not from the sky, but from the ground. They felt the faint, faint tremor in support beams of the porch, saw the way the puddles were disturbed not by rain drops but by something else.
There came a long, low squeaking sound. Like the rusty hinge of a door being blown back and forth in the breeze. For a moment, that was what some of them thought it might indeed be, glancing hurriedly towards the barn or the shed.
“What is that?” Primer asked, feeling suddenly anxious.
Another low roll of thunder, this one slightly closer and the shaking feeling again. Throttle stood, moving along the edge of the porch with Vinnie at his heel, both looking off into the distant dark.
“You hear it?”
Vinnie nodded in reply, standing at his brother’s elbow, squinting through the silver-veiled blackness. The rusty squeaking sound continued, but the wind distorted it here and there, making it difficult to pinpoint.
“It’s big…whatever it is.”
“I don’t see any lights.” Throttle replied, squinting behind his field specs.
Another thunder roll and then a flash of neon pink and red lightning. For a few seconds in the flicker of the atmosphere, they saw them.
Looming huge and in the distance. AT-AT Walkers. Sand Raider craft. Moving like a slow procession of cattle in the distance.
The jarring sight of them, looming so close to the edge of Brimstone made they all go stock still. After a moment, Mama and Primer were right behind them, having glimpsed them as well.
Primer ducked under Vinnie’s arm, wrapping her arms around him no different than she had as a little girl when she was afraid. Mama stood with her hand to her mouth, eyes wide.
“This close?” she gasped. “They dare come this close?”
“Don’t think there’s much daring in the matter.” Vinnie said gravely, eyes glued to where the machine had last been spotted. They were at least 2 miles off, but their monstrous size still made that distance seem inadequate.
It had been years since they had battled with such machines. They knew what it was like to ride so close to one. To fear being crushed under the weight of one of it’s mechanical limbs, to be in the sight of it’s gun turrets.
“Why are they here?” Primer whispered as lightning flashed and they glimpsed the giants again. They were moving slowly and steadily away, seeming to take little notice of the farm in the distance.
“Passing through,” Throttle guessed. “Probably using the storm to cover their activity. The army would be on their ass otherwise.”
“Should we be worried?” Mama asked.
Throttle and Vinnie exchanged careful looks and then the tan mouse shook his head. “No. Not now at least. But someone should alert the Watch Tower, just in case.”
Vinnie scoffed, “What, so you girlfriend can get all the glory?”
Throttle shot him a glance and Vinnie winced. “Er…I mean…why drag the army into it if there’s no immediate threat? I mean…we are just sitting around on our duffs aren’t we?”
Throttle recognized the manic glint in his bro’s eye that meant he was keen for some action.
“Let’s not go provoking things, Vincent. They obviously don’t want to tangle with us or they would have made a move already.”
“Okay, yeah, sure, but you and I both know that if they are breaking out those big bad boys and trying to move them on the sly, it means one of two things. Either they’ve got a shit load of guns, or shit load of prisoners. And I don’t think they should have either. Do you?”
More movement on the porch then, as the rest of the house came to see what was causing the tremors they could feel through the floor.
“Oh mama…” Modo gasped as another round of lightning strikes further illuminated the migrating Sand Raiders in the distance. “What are those things doing so close to the city?”
“Well if you ask me, they’re sending us an invitation to investigate!” Vinnie grinned. He pulled gently away from Primer and jumped off the porch, splashing into new mud.
“Vincent, don’t—”
“Oh come on! You know I’m right about this! Those four-legged u-hauls are trying to sneak by us in the dark and that can’t be good. We should at least investigate! Plant a tracker one of them at the very least!”
Throttle looked uncertain, but Modo nodded. “I think Vinnie’s right on this. Can’t be a coincidence they’re using the storms as cover. We should follow them.”
They both looked again to their leader and Throttle sighed. “Alright then. Let’s gear up. We’re gonna need they hydro-foils to navigate this water and make sure the shield crystals are functional. Let’s move out!”
“Be careful!” Mama admonished them all breathlessly, knowing better than to try to stop them.
Modo smiled and kissed her forehead, squeezing her hands for reassurance. “We always are, Mama.”
“Finally some action!” Vinnie crowed, pumping his fist in the air. The old woman caught him by the ear and pulled him back to the edge.
“You just be sure you come back in one piece, you understand?”
He softened, not even seeming to mind that she was pinching his ear. “Mama! I swear, it’ll be no trouble at all.” She let him kiss the top of his head. “And I’ll keep an eye on these two for you while I’m at it.”
“You’d better.” She nodded.
“I’ll ride with you!” Rimfire suggested, following Modo as he made his way off the porch, both heading towards where the bikes were safely stored, Vinnie at their heels. Primer made to do the same, but her Grandmother shook her head. “Oh no you don’t! You’re not going anywhere, miss. Your mama and I need you here.”
“But Gran—”
“No ‘buts’.” The matriarch said sternly. Primer deflated, looking helplessly towards her mother who was in the doorway, as if looking for back up. Sweep frowned and turned back inside, saying nothing as her mother joined her.
Primer tensed in frustration, caught between frustration and disappointment that bordered on outrage. “You always do this to me! I can help, you know!”
The other women ignored her, but Throttle put his hand on her arm gently. “Hey, there’s no use in arguing.”
She started to protest but he pulled something from his belt and pressed it into her palm. It was an ear-piece, a small almost unnoticeable one. “This will keep you in the loop. It should sync to a certain device I know you’ve been working on in that ol’ shed of yours.”
She blinked, startled by his awareness of her “hobbies” which was really just actively spying on the general activities of the surrounding down. For security reasons, of course.
“Really?” she asked quietly.
He winked at her. “Do as your mama says, baby girl. We won’t be long.” As he picked his helmet up and slipped it over his head, he tapped the side of it lightly, and Primer heard the earpiece make a small sound, like tinkling music, signaling it was live and synced to his comlink.
She smiled, slipping it in her ear, and shot him a thumbs up as she lingered on the porch.
As Modo was gearing up, Jessie moved into view. He looked up at her curiously. “Something wrong?”
She blinked at him. “If you mean other than AT’s are stalking around the edge of the city in the dark, then no not really. Rain just makes my hair frizz. Nothing a messy ponytail won’t fix though.”
She moved towards her bike, but the big grey furred mouse moved with her, looking concerned. “Whoa, whoa, hold up, Jess. I think you ought to hang tight here. This could get dicey.”
She looked at him directly. “But you said you were just gonna track them. How is that dicey?”
“Well, we could be seen for one thing. And that will piss them off for sure.” Vinnie mused as he readied Cherry. “Or on the other hand, we could not be seen, in the worst way, and get crushed into macho biker pancakes.”
“So you are going to fight them?” Jess asked, sound irritated and looking accusingly at Modo rather than her brother. “And what, you think it’s too dangerous for a little ol’ waif like me?”
“Now now, I didn’t say that.” Modo amended, but the way his ears wilted a little gave away that he had indeed been thinking it. “You’re just not as experienced with these guys as we are, that’s all. Don’t want you getting hurt.”
She relented, if only a little and reached up to pat his cheek. “Listen big boy, you meat-heads aren’t the only ones who have seen a battle or two. Now maybe I wasn’t one of Stoker BlackRuby’s wing-men, but I can hold my own.”
She grabbed her helmet and slipped on to her own bike as Modo and Vinnie looked helplessly first at each other and then to Throttle, who just shrugged. “Well, if we’re going, lets go. No telling how long we’re going to have this cover. Better make the best of it.”
Rimfire nodded excitedly, the first to speed off with Throttle tailing him. Vinnie glared at his sibling. “Fine. You can tag along. Just hang back and don’t get in our way, you got it?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh please. Like anyone could divert attention from your swelled head.”
They casually flipped the bird at each other and then Vinnie took off, spraying mud. Only Modo lingered, once more looking anxiously at Jessie. “You sure you’re up to this?”
She gripped her handlebars and revved her engine, engaging the hydrofoils that would allow her to glide through the mud without losing traction. “Question is, big guy, can you keep up with me?”
She sped away with a little laugh, and Modo heard her call back to him on his comm. “Enjoy the view, cutie!”
***
Chapter Text
***
They kept their distance as they left the open ground of the wastes and traveled into the rocky, winding terrain of the canyon. While the high and overreaching rock faces buffeted some of the rain, they almost made the terrain more treacherous.
Here they were not just in danger of hydro-planing, but rockslides and flash floods. All while doing their best not the be seen by the AT-AT’s as they moved. This meant riding in the dark, headlights off, using only the infrared of their visors to see by.
“Bros, I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.” Throttle cautioned as they followed the uneven dirt trail along the canyon floor. They had crested and dipped at least three times now, and the dips in the floor were growing steeper. More water collected here, and in the valleys they were crossing, small ponds rather than mere puddles. The water kept rising.
As they cleared another valley, their bikes struggling to make it up the dirt incline back towards the next rocky peak, Jessie and Rimfire both struggled and had to climb off in order to push their rides the rest of the way up the incline.
Vinnie looked out ahead through the zig-zagging canyon, watching as the AT’s moved further and further away from them, their progress not slowed by the rain but by the mud forming on the canyon floor, which suckered to their giant flat feet. “They’re gaining ground…if we don’t catch up we’re gonna lose ‘em around that next pass!” he called back anxiously.
“I think we should turn back.” Jessie suggested, lightning crackling above their heads again in angry spears that briefly illuminated the deeper shadows of the canyon. “Wouldn’t want to be stuck out here in case of—"
“Flood?” Rimfire cut in sharply, turning their attention behind them.
Rocks had given way in the pass behind them, washing out into the road, and water that had been trapped in higher pockets of rock now swirled down in a rush of rust colored mud.
“Can’t go back the way we came…” Throttle muttered anxiously. “And the way ahead is—watch out!”
Another fork of lightning splintered down from the low clouds above and struck one of the higher spires of rock. The blinding flash had them all wincing, feeling the sizzle of heat and electricity rippling through the air, making their fur bristle despite the rain. But the greater issue came a second after, as more rocks cascaded down from what remained of the spire, peppering the ground around them.
The mice splintered off, trying to take shelter from the fall.
Their saving grace came in the form of the all too common caves that formed in the rocks. This canyon seemed to have fewer than some, but few was better than none.
“TAKE COVER!”
Modo grabbed hold of Jessie and made to reach for Rimfire, but the falling rocks had his nephew retreating out of reach. The grey furred mouse watched with growing fear as a full avalanche threatened to crush him.
But Rimfire—ever the most agile of the group—remained quick on his feet, sliding and tucking into a roll that he sprung out of like a gymnast as he avoided the falling rocks, reaching his bike and climbing back on in a hurry.
He gunned his engine and in a spray of mud and loose grit they kicked forward, all five struggling to to keep from being struck. It was impossible to stay together for a longer than a few moments, causing further divergence. Rimfire splintering off towards Vinnie and Throttle while Modo and Jessie were stuck behind.
“Modo, in here!” Jessie urged, tugging at him as they spun and dove into the nearest cave opening.
The pair lingered near the mouth, trying to see out through the hail of rock, splashing water and more rain. “Bros! You make it!?’ he called anxiously into his helmet com.
“Barely!” Vinnie gasped back a moment later, making Modo sigh with relief to hear his voice. “You and Jessie good?!”
“Good as we can be…” the other mouse answered. He tried leaning out the opening again and glimpsed his bros and Rimfire further up the pass, having climbed into a cave slightly higher up the path. There was a deep rumble of what they thought was thunder, more rocks and mud slipping loose.
Modo cursed as a wash of gravel, silt and sand slid across the opening of their cave, washing inside, but thankfully creating no more issue than that. If anything, the extra barrier of rock helped to keep anymore rain from washing inside.
“What was that?” Jessie cursed, visibly shivering.
Modo paused, turning to focus just on her then. He put his good arm around her and drew her in carefully, rubbing her back and shoulder. “You’re okay,” he promised. “We’re all okay. Just bad timing is all, I think. This is just a washout from the storm. We’ll sit tight until it passes.”
She nodded, his calm, low voice soothing her. She pressed into him and tapped her own helmet com. “Vinnie? You and the boys alright?”
“Sure sis,” the answer came back. “You ain’t scared are ya?”
There was more caution than tease in his question and Modo raised an eyebrow curiously, unable to help but overhear.
“I’ll be fine.” She promised, still shaking. “I shouldn’t have let you talk us into this. We should have stayed at the farm…”
“Yeah, well, coulda woulda shoulda, sis…sit tight. Climb on Modo if you have to.”
“Excuse me?” she giggled, shaken from her nerves momentarily and even Modo went slightly pink at the unintended suggestion.
“Not like that!” Vinnie shot back in a hurry.
Modo tapped into the conversation once more, “Let’s preserve power until this flood dies down bros. Stay safe.”
Jessie continued to tremble and Modo gave her a gentle squeeze. “Geez, you alright?”
She nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah…it’s just the adrenaline wearing off.” She said, but he could see that was only part of the truth. He was quickly learning that unlike her brother, who often blurted whatever thought passed through his head without filter, Jessie was tight-lipped and secretive.
He looked back further into the mouth of the cave, finding it short with no apparent tunneled depths beyond. Which was good news; it meant no surprises from any critters that might have been sheltering there.
Jessie moved back towards her bike then, digging into the saddlebag and sorting through her supplies. She pulled out a small lantern, which she placed on the highest, flattest surface she could find, and then dug around for some quick-drying towels, offering one to Modo.
“Here, if we get stuck here it’s best we’re not sitting around in wet fur and clothes. Hypothermia’s still a thing.”
He smiled at her appreciatively. “You come prepared.”
She gave a small nod, needing to stay focused if only to stave off her own nerves. “Yeah, well hopefully our ‘bros’ have done the same. If this storm keeps up we could be here awhile.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head as she toweled herself off, hanging her jacket on the back of her bike to dry.
“I bet you boys were a lot better off before I came along. Seems I dragged my bad luck in with me.” She smirked at her own self-depricating joke.
“Are you kidding? We’ve been in way worse scrapes than this on the regular. Keeps things interesting.” He returned, hoping to raise her spirits.
But Jessie still seemed on edge, unable to settle. There was a deafening rumble of thunder then, enough to make them both jump. But Jessie screamed and covered her ears as well. Modo was beside her instantly.
“Hey, hey…” He drew her a little further inside and guided her to smoother rock edge where they could both sit down. He staid close, but didn’t press her further, and just the nearness of him helped to ease her jitters. They both turned and watched the mouth of the cave, seeing water continue to fall in sheets and run down the path which was fast becoming a stream rather than a road.
“You boys ever get caught in one of these floods before in the canyon?” she asked after a moment, teeth chattering.
Modo shook his head. “Never here. Other places, couple of times.”
Jessie nodded, rubbing her arms. “When Vinnie and I were little, Dad used to take me out here riding with him. We got caught in a bad storm like this once. The water moves so fast once it starts to rise and you can’t get traction. You can’t see two inches in front of your face…never been so scared. Took me almost a year before he could get me out riding with him again. And I guess I never did fully get over it.”
Modo nodded in understanding, sitting close to offer both warmth and a shoulder to lean on. She smiled, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her head on his shoulder. “I just need a minute.” She assured, trying to remind herself to breathe and focus.
Her childhood fear might be getting the better of her at the moment, but there were much bigger things at stake.
They were both quiet for a moment, listening to space between the thunder claps, ears twitching for the sound of more rock fall, or distant movement from the AT-AT’s. But everything had died down to a low and steady roar.
Modo stood and moved back towards Lil’ Hoss, who was mud splattered, but anxious to be of use. She beeped at him fondly and Modo stroked her side, reaching for her saddle bags. “Easy, darlin’. We’ll get our chance to chase down those dogs, don’t you worry.”
He pulled from her bag what would have appeared to be a large, foil wrapped brick. The biker unwrapped it, and then cleared a place towards the center of the cave floor with his boots, creating a small basin for it. Then he set it down and let his arm canon heat it until it was a bright glowing coal.
Warmth immediately began to radiate from the brick and Jessie looked up curiously. “Well, I guess I wasn’t the only one who came prepared.” She teased. “They teach you that in Boy Scouts?”
Modo winked back at her; “Scouts? Don’t need no merit badge when you’re raised on a farm like I was. Preparedness for emergency is half the job, harvesting and shoveling dung is the other.”
She giggled softly and he swore his heart did a little flutter in his chest, turning his face away from her as his cheeks burned pink. He felt like that teenage boy with a crush all over again.
After a moment or two, he moved back to her side, satisfied that heat from the brick was beginning to spread. “That should help the jitters, anyway.”
**
In the cave several yards above, the other three Mice were a little less cozy.
Their shelter was not merely a short carved out hollow in which they could easily rest. It narrowed and twisted and disappeared deep into the dark, and none of them were keen to follow it. The air from there was cold, and smelling strange. Water had washed into the opening, and turned the floor into a pool of mud that tried to suck their boots from their feet every time they tried to walk through it, and left their bikes sitting several inches of it, their tires mired in the muck.
Vinnie, of course, could not keep still. He kept trying to pace, the effort causing an awful sucking, popping, squelching sound every time he took a step until eventually he lost one of his boots and stepped sock first into the muck, which was oddly ice cold.
“UCK!” He bellowed in disgust at the feeling.
“Will you stop!?” Throttle hissed back at him. The tan furred mouse was still near the mouth of the cave, crouched and trying to watch where the Sand Raider AT-AT’s had gone, the sound of them becoming increasingly distant and lost in the other sound of the storm.
Vinnie had half a mind to take off his wet sock and throw it at him, but instead just muttered under his breath as he tried to retrieve his fallen boot and hobbled somewhere to sit. Luckily, Rimfire was able to pull him onto an outcropping shelf of rock, where he himself had taken up residence.
“You know it’s all fun and games until the rain you hope and pray for decides to overcompensate and make you wish you had an arc.” Vinnie muttered. “Of all the rotten timing.”
Rimfire eyed him thoughtfully, “I guess we should have gone around the canyon and tried to catch them there.” He mused, “but there’s no telling which pass they would have gone through, there are at least three they could have taken.”
As the younger mouse pondered this, he noticed Vinnie’s scowl. “Hindsight is 20/20 kid…where was that input when we were riding out?”
Rimfire shrugged almost sheepishly, “Well…you just made it sound so urgent.”
Vinnie sighed, recognizing that between the two of them, he was the more seasoned biker and fighter. It made sense that Rimfire would defer to him, even if it felt slightly strange.
“That probably would have been the safer call, sure. I just got a feeling about these guys. After that gang that rode through before. Something feels off. And I’d lose more than sleep over it if scoping it out could prevent someone from getting hurt.”
It was sound enough reasoning, especially coming from Vinnie. It piqued his interest.
“You really think they might be transporting slaves in those?” Rimfire asked, his voice dropping lower subconsciously, as if afraid to speak the fact into existence.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Vinnie said darkly.
“I know, but…it hasn’t been like that since the war ended, you know? Sand Raiders still attack and take prisoners sure, but never to the kind of scope those AT’s could haul. And to move so close to the city…” he looked anxiously back out the mouth of the cave where Throttle was still crouched and felt his stomach pinched. “Feels too much like the bad ol’ days again for my liking.”
“Same, kiddo. That’s why I want to be sure.” Vinnie nodded.
The stripe-haired mouse looked at him directly again, ears perking slightly as he recalled something. “Does this have something to do with the gang you saw before?”
Here Vinnie looked to Throttle who had finally moved further inside, shaking some of the rain from his fur and clothing and joining them on the shelf to keep from sinking to his knees in the muck.
“Let’s just say not every mouse shares the same idea of who’s valuable and who’s not. Times are still hard out there beyond the capital. It’s dog-eat-dog in a lot of ways. That goes for mice too.” Throttle answered. “Sadly wouldn’t be the first case of wayward Mice making rough deals with Raiders.”
Rimfire’a face curdled a little, the thought lingering like a bad taste in his mouth. He had been so young when the war had started and still young when he had joined the fight. In a way, that close camaraderie had shielded him from what life was like outside the close-knit structure of both the Army and the Freedom Fighters. But he was not ignorant of it. He had witness first hand what betrayal looked like among your comrades.
The three were silent for a moment, waiting out the storm and contemplating their next move. Vinnie pulled two of his flares from his bandolier and made a spot for them on a lower bit of rock next to the shelf they occupied, igniting them and leaving them to burn.
“Doesn’t throw off much heat, but hey…it’ll do in a pinch.”
Throttle shrugged himself out of his soaked jacket and tried to shake the rest of the water from it, then flopped back against the cold stone of the wall. “Don’t you have a burner brick?”
Vinnie looked towards his poor mud-splattered baby, coated in muck. “Uh, possibly. But I’m not willing to wade through the crude to try and get to it. I feel as if it would be counter productive to our present predicament.”
Throttle rolled his eyes. “That your round about way of saying you don’t want to get mud in your shorts?”
Vinnie nudged him. “Alright smart ass, what about you? Doesn’t Lady have one in her saddle bag?”
“Wouldn’t know, I believe you borrowed it last time you went out joy riding and never replaced it.” Throttle sighed.
Vinnie sighed in disgust and flopped back against the wall beside him, “Well fuck me then…guess we’re gonna have to tough it out like real mice then.”
“Yes, yes, because every real mouse tests his metal by stubbornly freezing to death in the mud. Hands down Vinnie, you win.” Throttle snarked back.
The bickering died off quickly, lacking any real momentum as a sort of groggy malaise fell over them in their present unwinnable situation.
Rimfire stretched and was on the move then, “You boys take a load off. I’m going to radio Mama and Primer and let them know what’s up, then I’ll see if I can hack into the radio frequencies of our sand raider pals. Maybe they’re having as much trouble with the flood as we are.”
This shook the older two mice from their grim daze. “Good idea.” Throttle nodded.
“Yeah, have at it whiz kid!” Vinnie chimed in eagerly.
Rimfire rolled his eyes but smirked, and made his way back through the mud to his own bike, immediately tinkering with her radio and tracking system once he had dragged her onto another ledge, where he could work better.
Throttle took his now dried jacket and balled it, “Here kid, catch!”
Rimfire caught the ball of heavy lined leather deftly, just barely avoiding falling full bodied into the mud and then looked back at the tan furred mouse with a raised brow.
“Put it on, it’ll keep you warm.”
“What about you?”
Throttle shrugged. “Are you kidding? With these flares sparking it’s like a bonfire over here.” He winked and Vinnie gave him an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. As Rimfire gratefully settled into the warmer clothing and went back to work, the other bikers settled as well watching him with a sense of familial pride.
Vinnie sighed deeply settling back against the wall and trying to make himself comfortable. “Man…look at him go. Crazy how to think not so long ago he was tagging along and doing back flips off anything he could climb, trying to impress us.”
Throttle chuckled softly. “Yeah. He’s all grown now, a mouse all his own.” He nodded appreciatively. “Guess we’re getting old, hmm?”
Vinnie snorted. “Ha! Maybe you bro….but Van Whams? We never grow old.” He smirked, satisfied with his delusion for the moment, and then glanced back at Rimfire. “But man…you get a glimpse at something like this…suddenly those long days feel real short.” His expression softened with a mix of love and worry. “Makes me wonder what it must be like looking after a little brother.”
“Hard work.” Throttle answered.
Vinnie glanced at him in surprise, seeing his own expression mirrored back at him. He went slightly pink beneath his fur and cleared his throat. They fell into comfortable silence together and Vinnie’s eyes began to droop, listening to the hypnotic drum of the rain on the rocks.
“Shouldn’t have had all those drinks with Sweep…” he yawned. He put his head on Throttle’s shoulder and the other didn’t shrug him off. The closeness and the body heat easing the shivers felt by both.
After a few minutes, the soft sound of his snoring began to fill the cave.
Rimfire looked up from his work and shook his head. “He calls me a kid but it’s apparently past his bedtime.” He teased.
Throttle chuckled softly, but looked equally tired behind his specs. “You’re tellin’ me, kid…”
“You could grab some shut eye too,” the younger Maverick offered. “I’m not tired at all, and it looks like we’re going to be here awhile.”
Throttle nodded gratefully but had no intention of taking the younger mouse up on the offer. His mind was too busy mulling over what to do next. Through the mist of the deluge outside, Throttle could see the cave where Modo and Jessie were holed up, and the faint flicker of light from inside it.
He tapped his helmet com. “Modo, you two alright there?”
A moment’s hesitation and then his other bro’s familiar rumble. “Fine here. You?”
“Rimfire’s working on trying to hack into our roaming rover’s radio. Maybe we can catch up with them beyond the canyon.” He explained.
“Do you think it’s too late to turn back? By the time we catch up with this bunch they’ll have left us well in the dust. Might not be worth the trouble if Carbine and the Watch Tower’s already on the look out.” Modo suggested.
Throttle mulled it over silently for a moment, thinking of Vinnie’s urgency and his words to Rimfire on the matter. Thinking of those strangers rolling into their town and the look on Jessie’s face from the window as she watched them drive by.
“I don’t think it’s that simple anymore, big fella.”
There was a small amount of dead air between them, and Throttle swore he could hear Modo’s worry rise just by the faint shift of his breath.
“How bad do you think it is?”
“Bad enough to run from, apparently.” Throttle answered.
“I hear ya. Sit tight.”
Throttle glanced down at Vinnie’s sleeping face and then across to Rimfire, deep in concentration, wondering what other choice he really had.
**
An hour drifted into two. The rain did not stop, but the storm itself ebbed. Twice Modo got up to check the state of the path beyond the canyon but they remained cut off by the continuous flow of water and dirt.
Jessie had been mostly quiet during the interlude, dozing uneasily here and there but always jerking awake before any real sleep could catch her. As she shook herself awake once more, she noticed Modo watching her from across the small expanse of the cave as he was tuning his bike. His pensive and worried expression gave plenty of insight into his inner thoughts and she hurriedly tried collect herself.
“Sorry…was I snoring?”
Modo blinked at her, ears twitching ever so slightly in confusion. “Nope. Not even a little. But what about it? Just means you’re getting some shut eye.” He offered.
She laughed a little, “Well, I have to say it bodes well for a girl that you’re not put off by a little thing like nocturnal noises.” She winked. “Or if you are, you’re too much of a gentlemen to say so.” Her smile grew as she looked at him, as if amazed somehow. “Man, they just don’t make ‘im like you anymore, Maverick. They really don’t. I hope whoever snaps you up knows how lucky she is.”
“Mighty nice of ya to say,” he replied, slightly pink under the fur with the compliments. “But I don’t know too many ladies who are keen to settle with this battle torn cyborg.” He shrugged, attempting to mask his disappointment with nonchalance as he pretended to focus on his ride. “And besides…haven’t exactly made much time to settle down over the years. Rockin’ and Riding’ two and from planets, fighting hostile take-overs and monsters of the week…my schedule’s packed.”
She moved towards him then, drawing his attention away from his bike, cupping his chin her palm as he looked up at her, obviously struck by the sudden closeness. “Hey, you listen to me, tough guy…any girl who doesn’t appreciate you, scars and all, doesn’t deserve you.”
He put his hand over hers lightly and gave it a squeeze. “…that statement should go both ways, Jess. If you get what I mean.”
She blinked, not having expected him to turn it around on her on such a way. She started to pull back from him, but he rose, still staying close, hand still in hers.
“Jess…the situation you left. Things were bad there, weren’t they?”
The woman stared at him a moment, obviously caught out. Her knee jerk reaction was to deflect however, merely shrugging and trying to smile sardonically. “I don’t know too many places where things are good these days, to be honest.”
He leveled his gaze at her and she saw that this time he was not going to let her off the hook. “Yeah. Things were bad. Throttle was right about the insignia on the stunner.”
Modo nodded slowly. “So…that’s your old gang that was heading into town before?”
She swallowed roughly. “Yeah.”
Modo exhaled slowly, glancing out the cave opening again, looking more than a little uneasy. “Do they have anything to do with this? These Sand Raiders?”
She followed his gaze out into the mist, brow furrowed and body tense, either unsure of afraid of the answer.
“I don’t know. But I can’t rule it out. Our unit leader, he made a lot of supply deals with the raiders. It was best to be on good terms with them. But things got messy…” she looked at him guiltily. Shame burning in her cheeks. “You probably think I’m trash, going along with them. After everything you and my brother fought for, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“You’re not trash,” Modo replied. “Sounds to me like you got mixed up in a bad situation.” He leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest. “I know what that’s like. Being stuck with no good options.”
“You? Mr. Prepared?” She chuckled almost incredulously. “I find that hard to believe.”
He looked back at her skeptically. “Come on. I’ve done a lot of livin Jess, same as you. Made mistakes. Trusted people I shouldn’t…I even fell for a bounty hunter once.”
She stared at him, obviously caught by surprise. “What?”
“Oh yeah…big stupid mess I made over it too. One of the few times me and my bros ever seriously rumbled over anything. Looking back at it now, man…definitely doesn’t go on my greatest moments list. But, my bros were there for even, even though I ignored their warnings and sure didn’t treat them right in the moment. They were still there for me when the chips were down.”
For a moment she paused, eager to ask him more about this so-called ill-fated affair with a bounty hunter. But of course, there was more to the story. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Cause I sure wish you’d tell me what’s really going on.” He answered. “Your personal life ain’t my business, I know. But it you’re in this kind of trouble, we need to know. Your brother deserves to know.”
She was silent, lips tight and face drawn with stress and worry. They were nearly the same age but she looked so much older then and Modo’s heart ached in sympathy.
“His name was Rod.”
He blinked at her in surprise as she spoke, but remained silent, waiting for her to continue. She had to draw in another shaky breath before continuing. “He was the leader of our unit. And the guy I stupidly fell for. I thought…” she looked at the floor, shame choking her. Hating herself for not seeing through the façade, not knowing what was coming. But how could she have? Why would anyone expect someone who swore they loved them to treat them this way?
“I don’t know what I thought. But it doesn’t matter. I spent years making excuses for him, trying to rationalize what we were doing. We started out helping people, then we were only helping ourselves.” She shut her eyes tight. “If Vinnie knew what I got mixed up in...gods, I couldn’t face him. Mama and Daddy didn’t raise me to be so stupid. And after all you boys fought for…for me to turn around and get mixed up with smugglers…”
Her anger for herself and her situation seemed to strangle her, choking off anything else. She felt ashamed for crying in front of him this way, the same as she had in front of Vinnie. Poor Vinnie, who didn’t’ even know how bad it was. Whose biggest grudge against her was for her leaving, not yet knowing what she had inadvertently tied herself to. What she had unintentionally dragged to his doorstep.
Modo’s arms were around her, pulling her in, hugging her close. She let him, pushing her face into his broad chest and digging her fingers into his back, knotting in his shirt.
“Don’t you cry, Jess.” He rumbled, kissing the top of her hair. “Don’t you cry for any scum that roped you in like that. It’s not your fault. And no kind of mouse worth anything would do that to someone they actually cared about. You got fooled. It happens.”
She nodded, staying quiet as she composed herself, grateful that he was there to hold her up. More grateful that he didn’t seem to judge her, even though she was doing plenty of that herself. She pulled back and gazed up at him, then leaned up on tip toes and kissed him again.
Modo felt the spark in his belly as he had before back in the trailer, but there was more to it this time. Every touch between them seemed to feed it, and he knew he was sinking fast. A total goner.
She pulled away first and he had to bite his lip to keep from pulling her back in, the feeling gone to soon. She giggled, having caught the wanting expression and stroked his cheek.
“Later, big guy.” She assured softly, wondering if he was aware of how much he made her swoon. “I’ll tell you the whole story. All of you. But not here.”
She started to pull away again, and Modo looked at her pleadingly, though it was clear this was no longer about the kiss. “Time’s not exactly our friend right now,” Modo pointed out, feeling a growing prickle of helpless frustration. “If you know something that could help, we—”
She held up a hand and shushed him sharply and he frowned, trying to protest, until she pressed her finger to his lips and leaned closer. “Listen!” she hissed.
He blinked, confused, not to mention flustered by how they were standing. But then his other senses kicked in and he realized what was missing. His ears perked and twitched like satellite dishes searching for a signal. They both looked out through the mouth of the cave and realized that the rain had begun to die off, fading abruptly from a steady downpour into the faintest sprinkle.
Modo stepped hurriedly to the mouth of the cave, ducking his head out and looking in each direction. It didn’t seem that his bros were yet aware of the development, as there was not any movement from their camp just yet.
He stepped out past the small barrier of rock that had kept them insulated, testing the path. It was still slick, still running with water past his ankle. But he didn’t sink and if he was careful he kept his footing. As long as the bikes had the hydro-foils on, they could manage now.
He looked back at her excitedly. “Come on, let’s get while the getting’s good!”
Jessie agreed, whirling, hair flying with the movement and made for her own ride.
Now out in the open, the storm clearing and leaving the canyon a misty, haunted place, they glimpsed their path ahead. Jessie saw it first, giving a small gasp and moving to squeeze Modo’s arm to alert him.
“There! Do you see it?!”
She pointed upwards into the distance and as Modo looked, his eyes adjusting, it came into shape. One of the AT-AT’s had crashed into the side of the canyon wall trying to make it’s way through the narrower pass down the line. It was still standing, but leaning heavily into the orange and red rock. Steam billowed from it’s mechanical carcass.
The pair were on the move, seeing their chance.
They made the precarious trek to the other cave opening, meeting Throttle, Vinnie and Rimfire just as they too were emerging.
Vinnie looked to Modo but moved first to Jess. “Hey, you made it!” it sounded like a tease but they both knew there was more to it. He hugged her, and she returned it, if not a bit hastily.
“Were you really that worried?”
“Well…yeah. I know you how you get about floods and such…” Vinnie shrugged. He glanced at Modo. “Sure the big teddy-bear here kept you company though. Right big fella?”
Modo blushed and Vinnie elbowed him, but it seemed that despite this playful ribbing, Van Wham was not yet aware how much truth there was behind this statement.
The big grey-furred mouse looked quickly for distraction, before Vinnie could finish putting two and two together. “Scope out what’s ahead bros. Looks like the storm didn’t just ground us.”
Throttle and Rimfire peered in the distance, both marveling at the machine leaning into the distant rock face and the odd and eerie spectacle it was.
Throttle turned quickly to the group. “Alright, we’ve got a second go at this thing. Approach with caution. We don’t know if it’s been abandoned or what it could be packing, so no grandstanding, no showboating, no—”
“Hey hey, why do I feel like this is directed at me?” Vinnie gasped in mock offense.
His bro leveled his gaze at him over the edge of his specs and Vinnie’s bravado deflated under the blind and serious stare. “Alright alright…no funny business. Got it. Mom.” Vinnie scoffed, wanting to get a little dig in back.
Modo barely stifled a chuckle at this, mostly due to the way Throttle’s face curdled, but Vinnie had gotten what he wanted, hurriedly dragging his poor mud splattered bike from the mud hole they’d sheltered in. “Follow my lead, bros!”
He sped off before anyone could argue with him, and Rimfire made to follow, giving his other uncles a shrug.
“Don’t encourage him.” Throttle chided, looking to Maverick, who continued to snicker.
“Sorry, but…if the apron string fits, bro…”
Jessie patted them both on the back, “Boys, it don’t sweat it. It would take a whole army of parents to wrangle that wild child, and he would still do whatever the fuck he wanted. You’re doing your best.”
She moved to her own bike as they followed suit, cautiously making their way towards the towering behemoth in the distance.
About a quarter of the left side of the cruiser was embedded in the rock face. It seemed the head of the machine, which would have served as the cockpit and gunning station was inactive and out of sight at their vantage point.
Upon closer approach they could see that the rear cargo bay of it’s body was left open however, despite the long distance from the ground. Nothing inside seemed to move, and this somehow felt more precarious than if the machine had been active and openly trying to get unstuck.
“Did they abandon it?” Modo wondered, as they stopped the bikes about twenty yards back, still partially shielded around an small outcropping of spire shaped rocks.
“Looks like it to me,” Jessie added. “Nothing’s moving in there that I can see or hear.”
“I think it bears a closer look.” Throttle replied, trying to zoom in as close as his helmet would let him, but still unable to spot anything from this angle. “Rimfire, you picking up anything?”
The younger mouse was at work on the dashboard of his own bike, which was tricked out to be a bit more high-tech in this department than his uncle’s. His own modifications that he and Primer had been working on with the help of a certain surprisingly tech-savvy bartender in the city.
“I’m picking up on some heat signatures inside…can’t tell exactly what it’s from though. The shielding around this thing is making it hard for my sensors to penetrate.” He sighed.
Vinnie grinned. “Well?” he cooed expectantly. “If you want a closer look, that leaves us with one option.”
Throttle sighed. “Fine…lead the way.”
The white furred mouse beamed with manic excitement and then moved from hiding, making sure he was packing plenty of fire power before darting out into the open, Throttle following swiftly after.
Modo made to move next, Rimfire and Jessie getting ready to follow, but the one-eyed mouse looked back at them quickly. “You two stay put. We need eyes on the ground in case something happens.”
“Are you serious?!” Rimfire hissed, obviously annoyed.
Modo gave him a stern look that told him there was no time to argue, and when Rimfire did not quickly bow to it, ran off to avoid further debate.
“You know what, somethings really never do change.” He muttered bitterly and the woman beside him gave a light consoling pat on the back as she stared after her brother and his friends, a knot growing in her stomach.
The three biker-less riders stood beneath the wreckage of the behemoth and took aim with grappling hooks at it’s open cargo bay. With all three grips landing securely, they were pulled skyward by their tethers, like spiders ascending quickly back up silky lines of webbing through the mist and steam that billowed through the valley.
They pulled themselves aboard with effort, all three ready to be greeted by lazor fire or worse. But nothing stirred at their arrival. At least not officially.
Staring into the dark, wide mouth of the cargo area, they were at least to relieved that nothing looked back at them. No Sand Raiders and no captives either. A wave of collective relief washed over them as they cautiously stepped further inside.
“Well, it’s not a slave transport. Thank gods.” Throttle nodded. “No signs of cells or anything here either, so they didn’t move them from one to the other.”
“Okay, then what were they hauling then?” Vinnie muttered. “This is a lot of room…and I just don’t buy the idea that they were just passing through.”
Modo approached several large crates that were stacked two or three deep against the wall. With his bionic fingers it easy to pry them open, the wood cracking faintly under the strain as he peered inside. “Weapons. Lots of them.” He muttered darkly.
His bros joined him, peering inside and seeing the heavy stock pile of long-distance rifles tucked inside the crate. They moved to another to find thousands of rounds of ammunition, smaller guns, tangle-spring snares, unarmed grenades and the lot. “Jeezus…how’d these yellow bellies get their grubby paws on this much fire power?! This is like a whole armory.” Vinnie gasped.
“Could have easily raided an old military outpost bro, who knows. Our populations may be dwindling, but by gods, we are well stocked in the things that kill us.” Throttle sighed. He kept moving further back across the rows of crates and found an odd one that was not wood, but rather thickly insulated plastic. Something that looked almost like a cooler, though it was secured heavily in place so that it wouldn’t move around much and was separate from the other storage.
“What do you think this is?” he mused, fiddling with the restrains and locks as Modo moved closer to see what he’d found.
“I dunno…maybe it’s their traveling snacks?” he offered, trying to lighten the mood.
Throttle ignored the joke, noticing now the warning labels on the side of the box. “Highly volatile, flammable, combustible…” he shrugged back at Modo. “Sounds like a fun party favor.” He managed to break the seal, and inside revealed small glowing vials of something bright magenta carefully insulated in molded packaging foam.
The two mice froze anxiously. “Shit!”
Instinctively Modo pulled Throttle back and they stepped away from the box.
“What is it?” Vinnie asked, looking up from his own exploration.
“Uh, you remember that little town outside of Argyer Basin that we were stationed at for a minute?” Modo asked.
“Yeah…you mean the one that went up like a time-bomb?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
Vinnie was moving beside them then, all three staring at the box. “Oh no way…I thought they stopped anyone from making more of this shit!”
“Yeah, well maybe this is leftovers.” Throttle replied, cautiously closing the lid again. “Bigger issue is, as precarious as this stuff is…if this tub of bolts gets knocked loose from the rock and crashes properly and that stuff ignites, it’s going to rearrange half this canyon.”
“We need to get it out of here. We can’t wait for Carbine and Strain.” Modo nodded. “We should take it Stoke.”
“Ugh, why drag him into this!?” Vinnie whined. “Every time you get a little spooked you wanna go running to the old man. Ever occur to you that we can handle this?”
“Oh, so you have a safe place to store this back at the trailer?” Throttle shot back. Vinnie curled his lip, mocking at him, but Modo quickly diverted their bickering.
“Rimfire’s got eyes on something!” he gasped, the transmission obviously playing inside his helmet.
The three of them moved hurriedly back towards the mouth of the cargo hold, They could see nothing in the distance, but they could hear it. Motorcycles.
“There’s three or four heading right for us, coming the opposite direction!” Rimfire’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“Sit tight and stay out of sight!” Modo warned sharply. “Don’t make a move until you have to.”
The sound of engines quieted and the three inside the cargo bay watched and waited. There was a clunking sound from behind them that startled them, making all three whirl as their party-crashers entered from the cockpit area rather than from the open cargo bay.
Three Martian Mice stepped into the hold with them, all armed, looking surprised to find more of their kin there. Lazor pistols were swiftly aimed at the trio, “Hands up, don’t move!”
“Easy, citizen.” Throttle cautioned, looking to the speaker. “We came to investigate this wreck same as you, I suspect. We’re all friends here.”
The newcomer at the forefront of was still in shadow but as he came closer to the light, Throttle recognized the tattered jacket he wore and the patch on the arm. Their easy riders from before.
He removed his visor revealing his face as he smiled in surprised at the lot of them. He was a sort of champagne-blondish color, made darker in the shadows, and his face a thinner, leaner look to it than most, but still attractive. Throttle could see the curl of his sweaty hair flattened against his brow under the crush of his helmet and noticed tufts of it coming out of the back of his helmet as well.
The other biker grinned, rolling the tip of his tongue across his teeth as he surveyed them. “Well…the Biker Mice from Mars, wasn’t it? Funny seeing you boys here…fully dressed no less.” He chuckled and his companions did the same, the snickering sound echoing off the metal walls of the AT.
“Kinda a rough night to be out riding, isn’t it?”
“We ain’t afraid of a little mud.” Modo replied, quoting the man back to himself.
“Guess not.”
He lowered his weapon and stepped a little closer to the trio, as though sizing them up before diverting his gaze to the cargo. “Quite a find, huh? Big boy like this could be hauling anything. I assume you concerned citizens called the local authorities?” he asked, and they could see by the way his eyes darted that he was nervous.
“Not yet.” Vinnie lied, knowing damn well Rimfire had already sent out the signal. “We know the terrain a bit better, figured we’d help out.”
The blonde mouse eyed the masked one, “That’s very civic minded of you, boy scout.” He nodded. “We could lend a hand, right boys? Give you heroes a break. You look like you’ve been out in this storm awhile.” He grinned again, and they all hated it. Hated the sleaze and the false self-confidence of it. This biker had all the smarmy charm of a used car salesman. “Why don’t you bros head on back to the ol’ homestead for the night? We’ll call the locals, meet them here. Get this all sorted for ya, huh? As a thank you for those excellent directions.”
He winked fondly at Modo and the big grey furred mouse struggled not to form a fist, itching to pop him right in the face.
Vinnie laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, sorry pal, not gonna happen.” He sighed, even as Throttle threw him a pleading look not to provoke. Vinnie was already on the move, striding closer to where the newcomers were, looking completely unbothered by their pop-gun shooters, considering what he himself was packing.
“You see, no one runs a Van Wham off his own terf. You dig?”
The blonde mouse’s eyes widened for a moment and he stiffened before his gaze sharpened and zeroed in on Vinnie. It did not go unnoticed by the white furred mouse, who had been in the sights of killers and predators too long not to recognize when one was looking back at him.
“Van Wham? Really…you got any kin around these parts, bro?”
Vinnie blinked, but luckily did not answer. “Funny question. Don’t tell me you’re some long lost relation sniffing around for some of the glory?”
Both Throttle and Modo were moving closer to him now, uneasy. The intruders companions were doing the same, clearly squaring up for a fight.
The blonde biker gave Vinnie a mean, sneering smile. “Glory? Not sure that’s what the Van Wham name is known for…maybe washouts, has-beens, hacks and whores I guess—”
Vinnie’s eyes flashed and his fist was flying forward. Unfortunately, Rod dodged the blow, if only just. Vinnie cursed and moved forward but Throttle grabbed his shoulder.
“Vincent, don’t! Not in here!”
Vinnie tried to shake him off, too angry to listen. “Come here and say that again--!”
The other laughed, clearly fed by Vinnie’s rage. Loving getting a rise out of him. “Ooh, I’m shakin’ bro. Shakin’ in my boots!” he mocked. His comrades moved forward as he moved back between them, allowing the bigger muscle to take the lead. “Listen boys, this little chat has been fun, but I’m commandeering this cargo and you’re not gonna stop me. I’ve got debts to pay and this payload should foot the bill nicely. Now you can show yourselves to the door…or my boys can throw you out it.”
One of his companions, a gangly white furred mouse name Stacks, looked back at him, as if confused. “Rod, we can’t kill ‘em!”
The blonde snarled at him and pointed his pistol in his direction instead. “Shut the fuck up and get them out of here! We’re on a deadline!”
Modo was suddenly in motion, knocking hapless Stacks aside as he surged past him and the other mouse—a bulky thug that went by Chet—and grabbed the taunting biker by the front of his shirt and flung him against one of the larger crates. The wood buckled and splintered under the force and Rod wheezed painfully in surprise.
“Rod, is it?” Modo growled, teeth bared and red eye glowing.
The ropy-muscled biker squirmed, clearly taken aback and anxiously eyeing the grey mouse’s bionic arm.
“What’s it to ya, fugly?”
Modo pulled him forward and then slammed him even harder into the crate until the wood behind him started to splinter around him. He drew back his fist, aiming it directly for Rod’s face.
Before the blow could land, however, Rod brought his knee up and kicked Modo hard in the gut, knocking him backward with a grunt.
The brawl started in earnest, Rod’s bikers throwing fists and kicks, and being met with double the force.
Vinnie scrambled to get to Rod and help Modo beat him into a pile of mush, only to have Stacks come at him swinging with two pairs of brass knuckles and screeching like a maniac. Vinnie easily avoided the first couple of swings, but Stacks finally landed one on the flex-plate covered side of his face.
Sparks flew, much to both of their surprise, and in the momentary shock of the reaction, Vinnie ducked low and barreled into the smaller mouse’s gut in a hard headbutt, knocking him to the floor before grabbing him by the ankles and swinging him to the side, sending him crashing into a wall.
“Careful bros, some of this stuff is kinda volitale!” Throttle yelled, engaged in his own battle with the much bigger Chet, who favored a club over a more “civilized” weapon. He was clearly the kind of guy who liked to throw his weight around.
“I’m gonna bash your face in four-eyes!” he cackled. “No one fucks with Cerberus!” He swung and caught Throttle in the arm, enough to make the other mouse yell and knock him aside, but a long way from putting him down.
“You back water thugs better get a clue,” Throttle muttered in return, “because the Biker Mice from Mars don’t back down from any fight!”
He ramped up, scaling one several of the stacked crates until he had higher ground and then came crashing down boot first into Chet’s slack-jawed face, flattening the other biker to the floor and pinning his club-wielding hand behind his back. “Now what was that about bashing my face in?”
Modo meanwhile was coming at Rod like a freight train, both fists flying as the smuggler tried to avoid the blows. He was smaller and faster than Modo, and definitely not afraid to run. Or fight dirty.
He scaled some of the tethered crates, getting to higher ground and kicked the smaller ones down on Modo. Boxes of weaponry shifted and came cascading down on the grey mouse, who wad forced to jump back to avoid being crushed. He raised his arm, canon warming to stun as he took shots at the slippery thug.
But all the movement within the half toppled AT-AT brought a new danger to the forefront. The metal carcass of the machine gave a loud, hideous groan and crunch and the felt a shift in it’s gravity.
All six were suddenly aware that their skirmish had caused enough shifting for the abandoned machine to come loose from the rock face, and with nothing to power it and it’s towering legs unstable, gravity had taken over.
“EVERYONE OUT, NOW!” Throttle bellowed, reaching for Modo and yanking him away, pulling him along with Vinnie towards the open hatch, even as the floor creaked and began to tilt under their feet. Anything loose or not bolted down began to slide towards the opening as well.
“When this tub goes over, it’s going to blow sky high!” Vinnie gasped.
Rod and his beaten companions were already bidding a hasty retreat out the cockpit the way the had come, abandoning the other bikers to whatever fate may come like the cowards they were.
Modo whistled hard, and below there was the roar of the bikes as they sprung into action, all three arriving on rocket boosters and propelling themselves through the hatch.
Their riders scrambled on, screeching free of falling machine. As it crashed into the neighboring wall of canyon, the combustible substance in the sealed crate detonated. A chain reaction of explosions rippled through the canyon and metal and rock and all sorts of debris erupted across the pass, fire and black smoke billowing upward towards the night sky.
The biker mice hit the dirt and mud of the pass below, but the shock wave proved to be difficult. They skidded and were blown aside, both Modo and Vinnie coming unseated from their rides as they were sucked under in the thick mud momentarily.
Throttle fell clear, spinning in his tracks and looking back in terror for his bros. “VINNIE, MODO, GET OUT OF THERE!”
Van Wham was down, dazed, moving too slowly and Modo was beside him, trying to help pick him up. As flaming debris continued to fall around them, one of the AT-AT’s tall legs, now free from it’s body toppled towards the downed pair on the pass.
Throttle was in motion, screaming, trying to race back in time. He Lady’s front canon, managing to strike the falling appendage and slightly change its directory. But not enough.
It crashed down, folding and crumbling on the rocks surrounding the other two mice before disappearing them from view.
Throttle felt like his heart stopped. Like the world itself stopped.
He knew he was moving. He knew he was screaming. But the world had tunnel visioned for him. All he could see was the dented and burnt wall of metal and bolts that had disappeared his bros from sight.
The tan mouse was off his bike and running before Lady even skidded to a stop, sliding in the mud and water and not caring, crashing against the debris and beating at it with his hands and fists, as if he could move it that easily.
It was an after-thought to activate his Nuke-Nuks, but once he did the metal began to yield more readily under his relentless force.
As the metal began to shift, he heard Vinnie’s voice crackle inside his com. “BRO!”
The shock of hearing him broke the other mouse out of his panic, and his broader senses filtered back in a head-spinning rush.
“Vincent!? Vinnie where--?!”
He glanced down and could see a gap between the bottom of the severed machine leg and the mud slick floor. He dropped to his knees, and saw, pressed there in the thin dark space, Modo, bent over Vinnie’s pressed form, his bionic arm straining and sparking, actually baring the weight of machine trying to crush them.
They were both sunk deep into the mud, pressed into it, Vinnie almost fully submerged. The soft ground, combined with the smaller interfering clusters of rock and Modo’s brute force had kept them from an abrupt and grisly end.
“I can’t hold it…” Modo’s voice, pained and panicked filtered through his com.
“Hold on, just hold on I’m coming!” Throttle gasped, first trying to wedge himself beneath and then scrambling back, doing his best to try shift and lift the debris off them. It creaked and gave, but not enough.
Within a few moments Rimfire and Jessie had joined them in the scramble. “We need more lift!” Throttle gasped.
Rimfire looked around anxiously, and then saw that there was a ledge just above them. “There! If we can get the bikes up there, have them hook their grappling lines into it we can drag it off them!”
Throttle nodded, looking to Jessie. “Go!”
She was off in a second, speeding up the ledge and ushering for both Rimfire and Throttle’s bike to follow suit until all three were lined up on the ledge, firing their lines. The metal leg shook at the hooks attached to the metal and Modo screamed in pain beneath the shifting weight.
Vinnie pushed his arms up, trying to help brace him and take some of the painful weight off his bionic arm, seeing how it was sparking and buckling. “HURRY!”
The bikes on the ledge peeled out, pulling forward as hard as they could, spraying dirt and rock and debris everywhere as they tried to lift the crushing weight off the other two mice. The metal leg shifted again, and with Rimfire and Throttle both pushing, a more sizeable gap appeared below them.
Throttle strained, lifting with all his strength and warping the edge of the leg with the force of the Nuke-Nuks, giving Rimfire a wider opening. “Go kid! Get them out!”
Rimfire didn’t hesitate, sliding underneath the wreckage and crawling towards his uncles as the metal above them creaked and groaned
Once it lifted high enough that Modo’s arm was not needed, the big grey mouse slumped over Vinnie, exhausted and fading. His extra weight pushed Vinnie deeper into the mud, submerging him briefly and he gasped and struggled to keep his head up as Rimfire reached him. He gripped Vinnie’s arm and pulled, using his tail to drag Modo, the three of them squirming, crawling and being dragged through the muck.
Throttle’s own tail looped around Rimfire’s thigh and gave a last hard pull that allowed the stripe-haired youth to gain enough leverage to get up on his knees and pull Vinnie and Modo the rest of the way. The moment they were out from beneath the wreck, Throttle dropped his hold on the twisted metal leg, letting the wreck roll and crash fully against the canyon wall.
He turned, breathless and aching and dropped down beside the downed pair. “Bros!!”
Vinnie coughed mud and water, rasping for air as Rimfire patted him on the back. Modo groaned in new agony, his arm clearly no longer in the socket correctly, parts of it warped.
Throttle grabbed him and braced him, “Easy big fella, easy easy I got you…”
Modo grit his teeth and tried to hold back a cry but it came anyway, agonized and awful. He buried his face in Throttle’s stomach as the other went to work, not caring that his own fingers were bloody and burned from holding the debris. With practiced precision he detached Modo’s bionic arm from the socket, bringing instant relief from some of the pain.
He let it fall to the dirt and began to massage and check the shoulder socket for further damage, seeing tears in the scar-tissue laden skin below his shoulder pad, but nothing that looked too serious.
Jessie joined them, leaping off her bike as the other bikes rallied, even Modo and Vinnie’s, which had finally broken free from their own barricade of debris. The bikes seemed to form a protective circle around the downed riders, an odd sight among the smoke and ash and ruin.
Jessie dropped to her knees and reached for her brother, not caring that he coated her with mud as she hugged him hard. “Oh my gods oh my gods…” her voice was high and shaking, clutching him tight. “Vinnie! Vinnie are you—”
He shook his head, still catching his breath. “I’m fine! I’m fine!” he coughed out. His chest ached, realizing he probably had a few cracked or bruised ribs. He squeezed her as much he could before looking back anxiously at Modo cradled in Throttle’s lap.
“Big fella, you making it?”
Throttle glanced up at him, “Give him a minute,” he panted.
Vinnie nodded, eyes fixing instead on his other brother. “Damn bro…didn’t know you could lift that heavy. You been workin’ out?”
Throttle stared at him and then huffed a small breathless and incredulous laugh, tears of relief rushing down his face. “For fuck’s sake Vincent…”
The white furred mouse moved a little closer to him and Throttle scooped him into a half hug, resting helmet to helmet with each other. “Don’t ever change.” Throttle added and Vinnie nodded.
***
Chapter Text
***
Jessica fought to open the door, finding that the rapid change in the weather had made the frame swell and the door stick. Normally, she could have popped it open with her shoulder, a swift bump against it usually enough to force it. But with Vinnie still heavily supported against her, that manuver wasn’t going to work. She’d have to go lower.
She kicked the thing open and it slammed back with a bang. It made her, Vinnie and Throttle jump, but only for a moment.
“Well…if anyone was waiting to ambush us in there, you just knocked their teeth out.” Vinnie mumbled.
Jessie shushed him and helped him limp inside. Throttle followed after, fully carrying Modo.
Jessie scanned the living room and the kitchen beyond and into the deeper dark of the descending hallways. But she saw no one. No did she smell anything new here. Her ears twitched and perked, trying to detect any sound of breathing or shift in movement. Still nothing.
After a moment, she continued forward again, her free hand no longer twitching towards her blaster. She moved Vinnie to the couch and deposited him there as gingerly as he could. He moaned, but seemed grateful, hands going to his chest.
Throttle moved past them with Modo, and made his way into the master bedroom. Both Van Whams looked after them in worry, then caught each other’s glances. “He’ll be alright.” Vinnie assured her.
“His arm looked pretty bad.”
“Just be glad it was the metal one, sweetheart. Easy enough to repair.”
Something, nearly forgotten, drifted back to him then. Something Harley had said to him back in her garage. Back when he was a love-sick kid with a burning crush on a spoken-for woman a good ten years his senior.
“…they’re all chrome and grease and hot metal and if they get broken…well…all it takes is a little elbow grease to put them back together. Lot less scary than a broken heart.”
He looked at his sister a little closer now.
But Jessie didn’t linger long enough for him to ask what had suddenly come to his mind. She was up and moving as Rimfire came in through the back door, closing it securely behind him and glancing quickly out the glass one more time before drawing the curtain. “Bikes are safe in the shed. Didn’t see anyone out there, Mouse or otherwise.”
He looked to Vinnie and Jessie as she passed him. “Where’s Uncle Modo?”
The woman waved him on, the pair coming to stand at the bedroom door.
Inside, Throttle had spread Modo out on the queen bed, rolling him onto his side so that his empty shoulder socket was exposed. Throttle was feeling along his shoulder blade, and under his arm bit, checking for further damage or trauma, while Modo breathed heavily beneath him, dazed and pained.
Jessie moved in, “Here, let me look.”
Throttle looked up at her sharply and Jessie saw his wariness of her. But it was more than that. Clearly, this was something that the bros had encountered before, and Throttle had put himself in charge of mending. She was intruding. Or at least, he thought so in that moment.
She might have backed away then, excused herself. Embarrassed and feeling the shame of her absence again. But instead she reached cautiously and put her hand on his forearm. “It’s okay. I know what to do for this. I won’t hurt him, I’m promise.”
It was her job. Her oath to do no harm. But it was more than that as well.
Modo shifted below them. “It’s okay, bro.”
Jessie smiled at him, and he tried to offer one back, but winced inside and pushed his face into the pillow.
Throttle relented, lifting himself from the edge of the bed. “I’ll get your med kit. Probably a compressed tendon or a torn rotator cuff.” He explained.
Jessie blinked at him. “Good guesses. You have med training? You’d be one hell of a nurse.”
Throttle softened, if only a little. “Nah. Only nursing I do is for these two dummies when the heroics go a little too hard.” He disappeared past Rimfire, who stepped more fully into the room.
“Uncle Modo I can take a look at your arm, but…doesn’t look like you should reattach it for a bit. Give your shoulder a chance to rest.”
“Much appreciated, nephew.” Modo groaned.
“What happened up there?” he asked at last. It was something Jessie wanted to know as well. “Those other riders showed up and next thing we knew, the whole tub was crashing down.”
“It was them same bikers from before. They wanted the cargo. All weapons and explosives.” His eye flicked towards Jessie and she felt a cold rush in her stomach. “A guy named Rod and his cronies. Not sure if they got clear of the crash.”
“They made it out better than you.” Rimfire pointed out.
Throttle returned shortly with Jessie’s bag of supplies, handing it off. “Yeah well, if they cleared the debris of the explosion, chances are they made a run for shelter somewhere. Hopefully far from here.”
Jessie nodded mutely, but her tense expression did not go unnoticed. But Modo attempted to shift himself, only causing more pain and making him whimper with it, clutching his limbless shoulder. This diverted the woman’s focus immediately, falling automatically into her training as she tried to soothe him.
Throttle lingered only a second longer, then moved once more back into living room, then to the kitchen, scrounging through the ancient refrigerator to find an ice pack for the masked mouse on the couch.
“Hey, grab me a cold one while you’re in there, huh?” he teased.
Throttle gave an irritated, long suffering exhale through his nose, but complied. Returning to the couch with an ice-pack and a can of soda. He pressed the ice-pack to Vinnie’s ribs, watching as the other jolted at the cold touch and set the can on his forehead.
“Hey, what’s that for?”
“Your swelled head.” Throttle replied, settling beside him.
Vinnie stuck his tongue out at him and then readjusted the can, pressing it to the back of his neck rather than opening it. “Thanks for pulling our tails out of the fire. As usual.” He eyed the rusty stains on his bro’s fingers, knowing they had to hurt. “Modo gonna make it?”
“He’ll be alright. Just needs to rest.” He confirmed.
He was surprised then when Vinnie shifted, taking the can and pressing it into Throttle’s palm, carefully folding his fingers around it. Cold relief from the burns and cuts.
“I’m gonna take like…a four hour power nap.” Vinnie declared, his voice wheezy and slightly punch drunk after his fall and near crushing. He flopped over with a thud against the pillow, groaned painfully and shifted his ice-pack to a new location. “But when I get up…I’m going to track down those wanna be easy riders and grind their faces under Cherry’s tread.” He muttered darkly.
Throttle patted him lightly on the shoulder. “You tell ‘em, Vin-Man.”
“No one fucks with my bros. My bike. My…canyon. And no one spits on the Van Wham name!” He was rambling at nothing, muttering and swearing until he got comfortable enough to close his eyes and nod off fully.
Throttle glanced behind them towards the bedroom door, thinking of the mouse who called himself “Rod” and what he had said about the Van Wham name.
Rimfire emerged, moving towards the front door then, with Modo’s arm canon wrapped carefully in a towel and bundled into his arms. “Where ya going kid? You oughta stay put until morning at least.”
The striped haired mouse shook his head, “Nah. I have a feeling you guys are gonna need this back in action sooner rather than later.” He explained with a wink.
His uncle nodded gratefully. “Just watch your back. Any sign of trouble—”
“Hit ‘em back twice as hard.” Rimfire nodded. “Just stay out of trouble till I can get you guys fully reloaded.” He was gone without further preamble, and Throttle watched and listened until he was sure the younger mouse had made it safely away from the trailer.
In the silence that followed, he stewed. He wasn’t sure how long Jessie remained in the bedroom, tending to Modo, but when she emerged, the can in his palm had lost it’s chill, now merely room temperature.
She made her way towards them, surprised it seemed to see Throttle still awake while Vinnie snored and wheezed gently beside him. “Bit of a nightowl, hmm?” she teased, moving around the couch to check on Vinnie.
When Throttle didn’t readily answer, she looked at him. The way he studied her made her realized that her days of playing coy and holding her cards to her chest were done and over with.
“Who’s Rod?”
She flinched at the sound of his name, especially posed to her in such a stark, demanding way. She sighed heavily, feeling a familiar stress tremor in her body begin to rise.
“He was the leader of the gang I was with before I came here. Before I got out.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t sound like you left on good terms.” He noted.
She shook her head, throat constricting slightly. “No. Not at all.”
“You’re on the run from them.”
She nodded.
“What are they gonna do when they find you, Jess? How would that have gone down, if you had been up there with us? Or they had spotted you and Rimfire on the ground?”
“I would have handled it—” she began, only half believing herself as the words fell out automatically.
He looked at her hard, giving her no room for excuse. “You’d be dead.”
They stared at each other, the silence between them ringing. She was up and on the move, arms folded protectively around her chest as she paced. “You’re making a lot of assumptions, Throttle. I’ve been holding my own for a long time. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Why don’t you set me straight then. Tell me why you came here, really.”
She looked anxiously towards Vinnie, who was still sleeping, oblivious. The tan mouse stood, discarding his now lukewarm can of soda and moved beside her, ushering her out onto the back porch where they could speak without being heard.
The deepest part of the night had already passed. The sky was a dark slate grey, still cloudy, dawn an hour or two away.
Jessie felt a spark of panic, of innate defensiveness, sensing the impending confrontation between them. Her brow furrowed and she glared at him from the corner of her eye. “Listen, I don’t owe you an explanation about my life choices, we’re not kids anymore, I can make my own decisions—”
“I don’t care about that.” The other answered firmly. “You think this is about me judging you for getting mixed up in something you shouldn’t?” he shook his head, the idea almost comical. “Your choices, good or bad, are your own, Jessie. My problem is that they followed you here, and now you’ve put my bros in danger! That’s what I care about!”
She rolled her eyes. “How are the three most famous and notorious bikers on the planet in danger from a strung out bunch of outlaw wanna be’s? Sounds like you’re not giving yourself much credit.”
“Bullshit. Those riders were easy pickings, but we would have handled that canyon situation a whole hell of a lot different if we’d known what we were really dealing with. Who was at risk! What they were actually after! You made us vulnerable!”
“What happened in the canyon was a fluke—”
“A fluke can kill you.”
His stubbornness finally brought her to a boiling point. “You want so bad to be like Stoker, don’t you?” she fired back. “I hate to tell you, Evander, but you’re not him. You’re not even your dad! He was a Ranger, he had authority! You and the boys are just…vigilantes at this point. The old guard, putting around here killing time. Modo and Vinnie can make their own decisions, they can hold their own and choose their own battles! They don’t need you to tell them what to do, or what to think!”
“You really think this about some fuckin ego trip?” he shot back.
“I’m just saying that you act like your bros haven’t got the smarts to hold their own in a situation!”
“The bad guys don’t have to be smarter than you, they just have to get lucky. Once! That’s all it takes to lose everything!” His voice was louder, almost fully shouting now and it echoed in the emptiness beyond the trailer, carrying on the breeze.
She saw, however briefly, the look in his eyes that gave him away. Some horror playing on repeat at the back of his mind. All his soft-spoken pre-tense out the door in a moment of desperate frustration to make her understand. And at last, she thought she did.
He looked away first this time, shaken by his own outburst it seemed. He moved to the rail of the back porch and gripped it, too hard, the weathered wood cracking under his hands. He exhaled heavily, staring across the waving grass and rock towards the gulch far beyond.
“Is that how it happened?” she asked him after a moment. “Modo’s arm, his eye? Vinnie’s face?”
He nodded.
“All I’m trying to do is protect the things that matter to me. Modo and Vinnie are my family. And you’re part of that family too, even if you’ve been gone all this time. Don’t know if you realized that.”
“Well…to be fair. You didn’t exactly make that obvious when I showed up. Seemed like you would have been happier if I’d staid gone.”
“Nah. Just not used to lost things coming back, I guess.” He admitted. “Level with me, Jess. What do these guys want? They were looking for cargo to sell. Said something about a debt to pay. And they seemed real interested to hear about the Van Wham name having more than one heir to it.”
It took her a minute to reply, struggling against hot tears that she didn’t want to shed in front of him, already feeling too raw.
“I’ll show you.” She turned and went back into the house, ushering him to follow after. They made their way into her childhood bedroom, and Throttle lingered in the doorway, watching as she made her way to the bed, pulling the frame away from the wall enough to reach behind the paneling. He watched as she produced a small box from the hiding place and slipped the lid free.
Throttle moved closer, spotting the gold gills inside. He stiffened, eyes wide behind his specs.
“It’s Rod’s stash. Payment from Sand Raiders to stand by while they raided one of the small costal towns. He thought I didn’t know about it, but he hid it in his bedside drawer.” She sighed and closed it again. “He was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, that’s for sure.”
“What were you going to do with it? Anyone here catches you with that, and you’ll be taken in for questioning so fast your head will spin.” Throttle explained.
“There’s a broker here that will still take it. Unless your Watchtower friends have shut him down already.” She sighed. “I was going to pawn it off to him. Take whatever cash I could get, start over.” She looked defeated once she had spoken it out loud. As if it were childish. A pipe dream that was never going to work out.
Throttle said nothing for another full minute, leaning against the door frame as he mulled this over. “Where’s this broker?”
“In Brimstone.” She explained, “part of Old Town. Rod’s traded with him before when we’ve been through here. He might still recognize me.”
“What does he do with the gold?”
She shrugged. “No clue, man. My guess would be sells it back to the Sand Raiders somehow.”
“Counter productive…” he mused. He glanced down at the box again. “That’s solid gold, yeah? Heavy?”
She nodded, confused.
He moved closer now and reached into the box, picking one of the disk of gold up. Solid and gleaming, engraved with the face of a fish that Throttle guessed was the High Chairman, though it was a more flattering version of the bloated carp he knew of. “It’s the real thing alright. And thin enough to melt easily at the right temp.”
“Melt?”
“Jewelry. They melt it into jewelry. I’d bet my life on it.”
Jessie’s eyes widened, the idea hitting her with sudden clarity. She touched the gold studs in her ears, then flicked up to glance at Throttle’s own adornments. “Holy hell, it’s the perfect scam. No one would know and you could sell it back at twice the value!”
Throttle let the disc drop back into the box. “I have a feeling I know your broker, Jess. And I’m sure he’d be glad to get his fingers on this. Probably actually pay you what it’s worth since he’ll make back double that. We’ll head into town before noon, catch him when it’s still early. Get your money and get out of there.”
She stared at him and then laughed softly. “You wanna help me launder Plutarkian gold gills? Seriously?”
“I wanna get that blood money out of your house. I want you to get Rod his damn money so he will fuck off back to where he came and leave you and the rest of us alone.” He replied, his tone deadly serious.
She looked at the floor again, and he softened. “Look. I’ve made mistakes in my past too. Trusted—loved, someone I shouldn’t have. I’ve got to face the regret of that every day. So I know what you’re going through. And maybe I’ve been a little unfair about it.”
This intrigued her, but she held her questions. Instead she put the box on the bed and hugged him, head on his shoulder. He seemed startled, stiff in the embrace for a moment, before hugging her back. “We’ll get you out of this, okay?”
“Thank you.” She sniffled, trying to hold in tears. “And I’m sorry for what I said about Stoker and your dad. I know Stoke’s got to be so proud of you. Your parents would be too.” She pulled back enough to kiss his cheek and beamed at him. “I guess somethings about people never really change, huh? I’m still acting like a kid and trying to clean up my mess, and you’re trying to be everyone’s big brother.”
“Hey, we’re all here to help each other, no matter the mess. What’s family for?”
“Apparently they’re for helping you launder gold-gills to some shady dealer on the sly.”
Modo’s voice startled both of them and they turned to see the big grey giant standing in the door way, looking at them both with a stern, displeased glare. “The walls are paper thin in here, ya know. I may have lost an arm, but I didn’t lose my hearing.”
Jessie looked like she wanted to bolt, and Throttle tried to explain, looking caught out as well.
“Save it. I heard everything.” Modo cut off, moving into the room. He seemed slightly unsteady, or rather off balance, without the weight of his cybernetic prosthetic and was quick to ease himself into the bed, hearing it creak under him. He looked at each of them, as if sizing them up and gathering his words. It was a look not unlike the one his mother often fixed her children with when they had gotten out of hand.
He sighed then and the sound turned into a huff of a laugh. “You two…I can just picture you walking into that pawn broker’s shop. One of the most recognized members of the Biker Mice and his pretty partner who just happen to have some illegal gold-gills to trade in. I don’t know what’s gonna happen first—either he’ll shoot you both dead and take the money for himself and run, or he’ll call Watchtower and get you both thrown in a cell.”
Jessie looked at Throttle. “He’s got a point.” She admitted. “You guys have a certain aesthetic, let’s say. No way you could slip in there like that, even if I’m with you.”
“Well you’re not exactly inconspicuous either, big fella, and there’s no hiding Vinnie’s mask. Nevermind that neither of you are in any shape for an operation like this right now. And we don’t really have time to sit on this.”
They all looked warily at the box of gold, knowing that Rod and his thugs would be back soon enough to sniff around after their encounter in the canyon. The box felt like a bomb, just waiting to go off.
“Why don’t we just turn the gold in? Explain to Carbine what happened—” Modo began.
But Throttle soured immediately. “No go. They’d probably take Jess in for questioning regardless, and it leaves Rod still scrounging around for his debt money. It might get ugly. And now that he knows us, wouldn’t take too long for him to set sights on the farm for revenge.”
Modo frowned, then added. “Fair. But I think there’s a little bias in that opinion. Considering your ex is involved.”
Throttle ignored the jab, with of course meant that Modo had made a point, even if it wasn’t the driving factor.
“I could go alone.” Jessie offered. “That was my plan to begin with.”
“Too risky.” Modo said quickly. “No offense, Jess, but any sleaze dealing in gold gills might not hesitate to take advantage of a pretty girl who wanders through his door.”
She smiled at him. “Do you realize that’s the second time you’ve called me pretty in this conversation?”
Modo blushed and Throttle took his own turn to roll his eyes. “Focus. We need to figure this out, and preferably before Vincent comes around.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, a familiar gesture when he was tired or stressed.
Jessie’s ears perked. “I have an idea!” She stepped closer to Throttle, taking him by the arm and turning him towards the mirror of her vanity. She swept his hair back away from his forehead, causing it curl backwards in a swoop. “Ooh. Yeah. I like that. A little pomade in that, get you in some nicer clothes…I think Daddy’s suit is still in the closet somewhere…”
“Um…what’s happening?” Throttle asked, nervous. “Why is she touching my hair?”
“I’m not following you, Jess.” Modo added.
She looked back at him over Throttle’s shoulder. “I say we try a little undercover operation. With a little sprucing up and the right clothes, Throttle could easily pass as someone from the Cathedra, there to do a little discrete shopping. If I go in dressed up as his date, I don’t think they’d recognize us.”
“I hate this idea.” Throttle said blandly.
“Oh I love this idea.” Modo chimed in. “She has a point, bro. You clean up good.”
He frowned and tried to put his glasses back on, but Jessie pushed his hand down. “No no! Leave those off, you’re too recognizable with them!”
Throttle laughed nervously. “Yeah, see…the thing is, Jess…I can’t see anything without them. Like at all.”
She seemed confused for a moment, then, studying his face, seemed to become aware of the faint scars, almost completely hidden beneath the downy fur that grew there. This close, she could also see that while he looked in her direction, his eyes did not focus on her smaller movements or expressions. He was blind.
“Oh…!” she gasped, stepping back so he cloud replace his shades. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize…”
“It’s okay.” He assured.
Modo moved closer, gratefully providing distraction from the awkward revelation. “Hold up just a second bro, that might work to our advantage.”
“Come again?”
Modo pressed his good hand to his back lightly, as if to assure him. “If we go with Jessie’s plan—gussy you both up and pose you as a couple—it will be even more disarming if they think you’re…um…” he faltered a little, trying to find the right word.
“Not a threat.” Jessie cut in quickly.
Throttle rolled his eyes. “You both owe me. BIG TIME.”
“Dogs and all the root beer you can drink for the foreseeable future, bro.” Modo agreed. “I’ll tag along, keep an eye on things and be the getaway if we need one.”
“Your over seven feet tall and missing an arm, you’re going to be wildly noticeable, bro.”
“I can lay low.” Modo assured. “Between the pair of us we’ll have an almost fully functioning Freedom Fighter.”
“What am I, chopped liver? I can shoot too, you know.” Jessie cut in. “And I’m more than capable of dragging both your asses out of the fire if it comes to it.”
“Good, cause we just might need that.” Throttle replied.
“Wait, what about Vinnie?” Jess cut back in.
All three glanced out the bedroom door towards the living room where they could hear Vinnie’s soft snores. “Someone should stay behind, help keep an eye on the farm in case those creeps come prowling around again.” Modo replied.
“Good call. But I’m not breaking it to him.” Throttle replied, slipping out of the room before they could talk him into any further madness.
Modo and Jessie were left looking at each other and Modo sheepishly held out his fist. “Rock paper scissors?”
Jessie smirked at him, put her hand over his fist and leaned up to steal a kiss. Clearly the winner.
***
Chapter Text
***
They lingered in the back alley that fed into the small cul-de-sac, tucked out of sight while shoppers and other civilians passed them by without notice. From their shadowed vantage point they could see the store front, and peer through the tinted glass of the windows. Inside they could see the outline of the long counter, and watch the pawn broker pace lazily back and forth as he organized and inspected his wares.
“I hate this idea.” Throttle muttered. He struggled not to pluck at his clothes, feeling too warm and too stiff inside the tailored and expensive fabric. Instead of his usual leather vest or jacket with optional t-shirt, he now wore a more traditional Martian suit for more prestigious occasions.
The dark blue tunic top felt too tight at the collared neck and too loose at the sleeves, which opened wide at the elbows, under which he wore wrist gauntlets that extended nearly back up to the elbow, all embroidered leather, soft and well-tended.
The tunic tucked into a thick waist belt, also leather, under which were what could best be described as riding pants. Cream colored, tight, and meant to be tucked into knee high boots. The only thing that Throttle seemed actually comfortable in.
Jessie, dressed in a coordinating outfit of her own—a paler blue dress with the same matching collar and long billowing sleeves that ended at her wrists rather than the elbow, tapering at her waist and opening to below the studded belt to reveal leggings and boots of her own-- gave him a little shove at the shoulder to quiet him. “Quite your belly aching! You look fantastic.”
“I look like some dopey diplomat from Elysium.” He sighed. “I can’t believe your dad wore this.” He tugged at the collar again.
Jessie rolled her eyes and looked to Modo, catching him staring at her openly. She blushed, “Guess I clean up alright too, hmm?”
Modo’s face went completely pink under his fur. “Oh uh—sorry, darlin’—”
“Please don’t apologize. Haven’t had anyone look at me like that in years. Especially not with my clothes on.” She explained.
Throttle snapped his fingers, drawing their attention back. “Focus up, lovebirds. I have a feeling we’re only going to get one shot at this so we’d better make it count. Modo, you’re cool to stay here and keep an eye out?”
Maverick nodded. “No sweat, pard. I can see the shop clear from here, and any one coming in or out of the cul-de-sac. I’ve got your back.”
“Glad to hear it.” Throttle nodded. “Jess, you got the gills?”
She shifted the satchel she’d brought with her and opened the flap to show the gills, still wrapped carefully in cloth, inside. “Good to go.” She nodded, one curl of white hair slipping out of place. She tucked it back quickly, beaded bracelets clinking. A thing that made her frown a little, shaking her wrists. “I kinda forgot how cumbersome all these accessories are…”
“I’ll trade you the bracelets for something with a looser collar any day.” He mumbled, tugging at it again. She sighed and adjusted it for him and he breathed a little easier.
They paused, staring at each other a moment.
“You ready?”
He exhaled slowly and nodded, glancing anxiously to Modo. His bro gave him an encouraging little nod, and Throttle slipped off his specs, folding them and pressing them into Jessie’s palm as his world turned to white dazzling snow.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep them safe.” She promised, tucking them away carefully into a pocket of her dress. She pressed her hand against his chest to help ground him, and his hand slipped over hers, squeezing lightly as he gave another shaky exhale. This was asking a lot, and she was just starting to see how much. She pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’ll keep you safe too.”
Modo looked up then as he heard the little tinkle of the shop bell, and saw the previous customer of the pawn shop take their leave, walking away hurriedly down the street. Now only the owner remained inside.
“If we’re gonna make a move, best we do it now.”
“Oh boy…”
Jessie slipped her arm around his, giving the impression he was escorting her while she was really leading him. “Just smile and look pretty, Evander. Let me do the talking.”
“Have I mentioned how I hate this idea?”
They set off, crossing the road, and stepping from the shadows and into the sunlight. Jessie giving Modo one last glance back and offering him another assuring smile. The big grey-furred mouse nodded, settling back against the building, hidden by the overhang of the balcony above it and pulled the loose cape he wore over his shoulders a little closer around him. His remaining hand closed over the butt of the blaster in his hip holster. It felt strange, having had no need for an external firearm in so long. But until Rimfire could fix his arm, it was the best he could do.
He tapped the com in his ear. “Hey, Vinnie. You read?”
“Loud and clear,” Vinnie’s voice answered. “You got eyes on them?”
“They’re going in now.” Modo said quietly. “Should be quick if it all goes smoothly.”
“You’d better hope so. Still can’t believe you left me here.” Vinnie muttered bitterly. “And you tell Throttle to pull Jessie out of there the moment things even smell off—”
“Chill, bro. Don’t get your tail in a knot. I won’t let anything happen to them.” Modo assured, keeping his single eye fixed on the shop window, Lil’ Hoss leaning against the wall beside him, ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Inside the shop was just as Jessie remembered it. It was not what one might have expected from a typical pawn place—shelves lined with clutter, more expensive items tucked back in cages or behind glass shelves with heavy locks. This place was all polished wood and pretty etched glass. Display furnishings that looked antique and very expensive, coming from some of the oldest and wealthiest families in the region most likely. It smelled like wood polish, dried flowers and cigar smoke. It seemed like it wanted to either be a jewelry store or perhaps one of those higher end, old world pubs.
But Jessie saw it for what it was. A front. Something that looked pretty and on the level. Someplace with old world charm and ‘standards’. But what was beyond the door leading into the back room of the place was wildly different story. An ugly and seedy underbelly. A smuggler’s daydream, full of illegal contraband, outlawed weapons, alien substances for all sorts of nefarious purposes. If you couldn’t be caught dead with it in broad daylight within the city walls, you could find it here.
But the purveyor of said goods was not presently in sight. They could hear the clerk’s voice distantly, and realized he had slipped into the back store room behind the counter just as they had arrived. Probably having missed the tinkling of the bell announcing their arrival.
To the right of the long display counter there was a separate area, filled with fine furnishings and displays of expensive items. Gem stones, jewelry, antique weaponry and paintings. It looked like an Estate sale to Jessie.
Throttle, unable to take any of the displays in, crinkled his nose. “It smells like a funeral home in here.” He muttered.
She chuckled. “Shush. You’re supposed to be a worldly, discerning consumer. You should be eating this up. Someone else’s forfeited treasures all for the taking.” She teased.
He nodded, trying to play along, “Right, sure. Of course. Should we pick out matching end tables for our estate home, darling? Maybe I can find a nice rusty sword for my collection.”
“You’re hopeless.” Jessie teased back. “I bet Carbine hated to take you anywhere that wasn’t a part’s store.”
“Hey, we all have our own tastes. Just because mine tends to come in chrome doesn’t mean it’s any less discerning. Besides, you don’t exactly strike me as a girl who’s into things like silver candle sticks and matching curtains.”
“Hey, even us ride or die ladies appreciate the finer things.” She answered, leading him around the shop while the clerk seemed busy elsewhere.
They stopped suddenly in front of painting that was partially hidden behind a velvet curtain, and Jessie’s sudden stillness and her change in breathing caused her blind escort to tense. “Jess? What is it?”
“Um…” she blinked at the painting, as if unsure of what she was seeing. “Nothing, just…there’s this picture. It’s um…well, I recognize it, is all.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s…do you remember the Long Night addresses the Regent used to give? Before the war? When we were kids? That broadcast that went out on the solstice.”
“Yeah…boy that’s digging in the memory bank. Why?”
“Remember that big painting that used to hang behind him?”
Throttle was quiet for a moment, staring in the direction of the painting without seeing it. “You gotta be kidding me. I thought all that sort of stuff was lost when the city burned the first time, after the volcano eruption.”
“Well, someone must have saved some things.”
“And it ended up here.” Throttle noted grimly. He looked in Jessie’s direction. “You did bring our insurance, right?”
She lightly tapped the blaster strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath the flare of her skirt. “A lady is always prepared.”
From the back room she could hear the sound of shuffling and faint bickering, as if he was speaking to someone else.
“Who’s that, you think?” Throttle whispered. “Store clerk?”
“Maybe.” Jessie whispered back. She heard the door to the back storeroom open and quickly looked away, dragging Throttle towards another display case and feigning interest at the items inside.
The clerk behind the long glass and wood counter looked at them. “Well good morning!” he greeted, sounding pleasant if not slightly surprised.
“I hope we’re not catching you at a bad time,” Jessie said quickly, her voice lifting an octave to sound slightly higher, an artificial sweetness to it that almost made Throttle crinkle his nose in both distaste and amusement. It was absolutely giving ‘customer service phone rep’ voice. “My husband and I were in the neighborhood and we heard you might be worth a look.”
“Well, I’m always glad to receive good word of mouth.” The clerk replied. He was an older mouse, a pale grey color with dark hair and silver starting at his temples. His eyes darted from the woman to the man beside her. “I don’t normally get very many walk-in customers at this hour. Usually by appointment only. But you’ve caught me at a good time, so I guess it’s your lucky day. Welcome to Burk’s. What can I do for you?” He grinned, showing a glint of a gold-capped tooth.
The tone in his voice indicated a different question, and Throttle smirked a little. He didn’t need to be able to see the mouse in question to know how full of shit he was. The real question was ‘what can you do for me?’ in this shop.
Throttle nodded congenially in the direction of the voice, “We appreciate it, Mr. Burk.” They stepped a little closer, and he allowed Jessie to gingerly guide him closer to the counter. “We were doing some inventory and came across an heirloom that we thought you might be interested in.”
He nodded towards Jessie, who reached for the bag at her side.
The clerk spoke quickly then, waving for her to stop. “Oh, oh! Pardon me, Miss, just a moment if you please.” He hurried around the counter then, striding swiftly towards the front of the store.
Throttle stiffened and Jessie looked back in confusion, realizing he was reaching for the curtain pulls. As they fell shut, leaving the shop in deeper, closer darkness, he took the added precaution of locking the door behind his guests.
“What’s going on?” Throttle mouthed, barely daring to whisper.
Jessie squeezed his arm to keep him quiet. “Is something wrong?” she asked the clerk.
“No, no! I apologize, Miss. Just a precaution. I very much like to focus on each appraisal as it comes, so it’s best to avoid any unnecessary interruptions. For privacy’s sake.” He nodded to her, as if she should understand this. As if he already suspected she had something of a delicate nature to show him.
She kept the façade, nodding gratefully. “You’re a very shrewd man, Mr. Burk. I knew we came to the right place.”
“I certainly hope so.” He nodded back, pleased and returning to his post with a more relaxed air. “Now,” he sighed, lacing and stretching his fingers before resting his palms eagerly on the counter top again. “What have you got for me?”
Outside, Modo watched as the clerk inside the store moved suddenly towards the window and drew the curtains. “Uh oh…” he muttered, feeling a nervous pinch in his stomach. “I don’t like the look of that. No sir…”
He started forward, meaning to move in closer, possibly even to knock on the door, which now bore the “sorry we’re closed sign” on it’s front window. Beside him Lil’ Hoss stirred, beeping curiously, and Lady did the same from her tucked back position.
“Standby little darlin’s…let me get a closer look…don’t want to jump the gun.” He told them.
The bikes of course had no ready answers for him, merely chirping softly and beeping as their A.I. systems registered this new command. Or tentative one at the very least.
But Modo had not taken more than a step when a new voice called out to him from further down the street.
“Modo?”
He turned, startled, and saw Carbine striding towards him up the alley from the street below. Not far behind her, waiting at the intersection was the broad and unhappy looking figure of Brigadier Strain.
Modo cursed softly under his breath as she approached, casting another worried glance back towards the shop.
“Interesting get up there, Maverick.” The black-haired General mused as she approached him, trying not to smile. “You look like a mouse who doesn’t want to be noticed.” She gave him a deadpan gaze then. “It really isn’t working out for you though, sorry to say.”
Modo stepped towards her, trying to keep her from coming to the edge of the street and noticing the pawn shop that he had been watching so intently. “Listen, Carbine, it’s good to see you but I’m kinda in the middle of something important…” he cautioned.
“Oh yeah?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced from him to the pair of empty bikes tucked back against the overhanging building. “Where’s Throttle?”
“He’s uh---shopping.”
She blinked and snorted a small laugh. “Throttle Evander? Shopping? For what, spark plugs?” She looked around at the cluster of buildings in the circular dead-end road, noting that the only other actual business here was a liquor store that wasn’t even open at present.
She sighed heavily and fixed Modo with a knowing look. “You want to tell me what’s going on here, or do I have to get the big guy involved? Because no one is going to like that. Especially not Throttle, I promise you.”
Maverick sighed at her. “Listen, it’s nothing for you to be concerned about, okay? This is family business.”
She looked slightly confused by this statement, and then perhaps a little hurt by the exclusion. But of course, after the other night, she supposed she deserved it. “Alright. I won’t pry. But I do want to talk to you boys about whatever happened at the canyon last night. We sent a patrol out about an hour ago after a distress call came in…”
Modo wasn’t listening to her though, he had glanced anxiously back towards the shop again, and as he moved, Carbine saw the cloak he wore around his shoulders shift, and recognized the absence of his bionic arm.
“What happened to your arm?”
“Nothing.” Modo mumbled absently.
She looked past him towards the shop, her suspicions renewed. “Yeah well, ‘nothing’ is getting awfully interesting.” She sighed.
Jessie glanced at her escort before reaching into the bag once more and very carefully produced the wrapped gold gills from the satchel, lying them gingerly on the counter top and allowing the shop clerk to unravel them himself.
His eyes widened upon glimpsing the gold, and the sheer amount of it. Stacked together like plastic-wrapped cheese slices, glistening in the overhead light above the counter. “My goodness…”
He glimpsed up, noting that the woman was watching him intently while the man seemed less focused. “This is…quite the find.”
“We were cleaning out a family homestead…we found this tucked away in a drawer. We thought it best to bring it here.” Jessie offered, hoping the story was vague enough to not raise too much suspicion.
“I’m flattered you thought of me.” He nodded. He carefully brought one of the discs free from the wrappings, admiring it closer in the light. “If you’re looking for trade value, I’m prepared to be very generous. Though I do take a little off the top for myself, you understand. Something like this takes a lot of extra time and energy to properly process.”
“Of course.” Throttle answered. “How much do you think is there?”
The clerk looked at him carefully. “You haven’t counted it?”
The tan furred mouse gave a small, embarrassed smile and shifted slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t handle many of those affairs since the war, Mr. Burk. My wife is good enough to help me.”
The clerk nodded, now understanding the mouse’s inattentive gaze as he looked a little closer, seeing the scars at the edges. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize.” He nodded apologetically. But, as Jessie had hoped, this seemed to relax the clerk just a little as he now turned his attention back to her.
“Do you have an estimate on the amount?”
“If my conversion rates are correct…I’m guessing it’s somewhere around thirty thousand.”
She watched the clerk’s eyes widen at the prospect of this. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you’re very lucky to have found this before any authorities did. There would be a good deal of questions for something this substantial.”
Jessie nodded. “Yes, I’m aware.” She leaned a little closer to him, doing her best to look both very pretty and very serious. “You can imagine the kind of stress this has caused my husband and I, finding this in a family home. We are very anxious to see something good come out of such a find. If we understand each other, Mr. Burk.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course, Miss.” He carefully folded the gills up in the cloth again. “I can tell you that you aren’t my first costumers who have come in with such a find. I understand it can be…jarring to deal with. But I will make sure that you are fairly compensated for your trouble.”
“That’s all we ask.” Throttle nodded.
He shifted against the counter, looking at her closely, getting down to business at last. “How much do you want? I can offer fifteen upfront.”
“Fifteen!” Throttle gasped. “You’re going to take half?”
“I’m afraid that’s all I have on hand,” Burk explained quickly, in hopes it seemed to tamp down any outrage. “I could give you that now and perhaps another six by tomorrow if you’re willing to come back then. Business has been on the slower side lately and as you did arrive without an appointment…”
Throttle pretended to think about it before smiling towards Jessie. “Is this guy trying to take us for chumps, honey?”
She nuzzled his shoulder, “I’m not sure, pumpkin. But I definitely think he’s holding out on us.” She added.
Burke looked between them and then smiled, shifting again against the counter. “You know…I think I may have misspoken before.”
“Is that so?” Jessie teased.
“Yes,” Burk admitted. “See…I knew something was off about you two when you wandered in here. And it wasn’t the fact that your so called husband is obviously blind as a bat, or that you’re both wildly over dressed; I could overlook all that.”
He looked directly at Jessie then. “But you two just so happen to walk in here, unannounced, not one day after Rod called me up, telling me all about how his woman robbed him blind and he was looking to make some quick cash—"
Throttle heard it. The small click of a safety being pulled back.
As Jessie began to argue back with Burk, the biker gripped her hard suddenly, yanking her back and away from the counter just as a shot erupted through it. It would have struck the woman in the stomach if she had lingered just a second longer.
The pair fell back, Throttle scrambling for his own weapon as Jessie pulled her blaster from her thigh and shot back at the clerk. An eruption of glass and woodchips rain downed on them as they scrambled to put more distance between each other.
“Jess, my specs!” the biker gasped, still firing blind.
The white furred mouse scrambled to cover them with one hand while fumbling for the glasses still trapped in the pocket of her dress.
Burk fell back and fired again, catching Jessie along the arm. She cried out at the burn and the spirit of blood that erupted from the deep tear, Throttle’s glasses falling to the floor. She struggled to reach for them, but forced to back off as another volley of fire ricocheted across the small pawn shop.
“Jessie!”
“I’m hit!” she gasped.
Throttle felt her moving beside him and he held out his blaster in front of her, “Point me in the right direction!”
She gripped his arm with her good hand and pushed it towards the clerk, “Fire! Fire!”
Throttle squeezed the trigger rapidly, the concussive blast of the lazor causing several loud explosions as they struck various shelving units. Burk fell to the ground, either hit by debris or knocked back by the blast.
With a break in the crossfire at last, the pair on the floor scrambled up, trying to make towards the door and get free of the closed and deadly space. Jessie fumbled with the door, trying to get it too unlock, just as a renewed blast came from behind the counter.
It missed them both and shot a sizeable hole through the large glass window beside them, but it still made them both shout. Throttle whirled, blindly laying down another hail of fire before whistling hard.
There was a roar of an approaching bike and then Lady came crashing through the already splintered window to skid across the polished marble of the shop floor.
Jessie grabbed Throttle’s arm and yanked him towards the bike, jumping on and pulling him behind her. “Hang tight, hot shot!”
“PUNCH IT!”
She kicked the bike into high gear, tires squealing and punched back out the way they came through the now ruined picture window and out into the street. Any remaining citizens scattered for cover, screaming and shouting in shock and fear.
More heavy lazor fire followed them, and Jessie swerved to try and avoid it, only for Modo to race past her on Lil’ Hoss, returning the blasts with her front canon.
“I take it negotiations didn’t go so well?”
“You might say that,” Throttle grunted.
They looked back through the battered and broken front of the pawn shop as Carbine rushed to join them in the square. “What the hell is going on!?” the General demanded, reaching for her weapon.
“Seems the pawn shop broker got a little paranoid…” Throttle tried to explain.
“WATCH OUT!” Modo warned.
Burk had appeared in the shattered window, now sporting a rather high powered looking machine gun and looking quite crazed and unpolished as he aimed it at the group in the middle of the road.
The peppering pop of bullets, firing off at rapid speed, sent the mice into a scramble for cover. Modo grabbed Carbine and pulled her onto Hoss as they sped off, he and Jessie darting in different directions to make it harder for the mad man to pick a target.
Burk decided to focus on his initial intruders however, following the pair on the black and silver Harley as closely as he could. Throttle grit his teeth as he felt bullet ping off of Lady’s fender and exhaust pipes, gripping Jessie tighter.
“I’m still flying blind here, lady, be my eyes, tell me where he’s at and then point me at him!”
Jessie shook her head, “You can’t fire fast enough! If I get any closer he’s going to turn us into swiss cheese!”
Throttle could smell the blood on her from the wound on her arm, and felt how tense and tight she was against him, terrified. But they didn’t have time to be afraid.
He pressed closer to her, catching her by surprise as he moved one hand from her waist and felt along the bike’s gas tank up to the control panel, “Swing our tail towards him!”
“What?” she gasped.
“Trust me!”
She did as he instructed, swerving the bike so that their back was fully towards the shop. Throttle’s fingers found the button he was looking for and pressed hard, igniting Lady’s back rockets.
They erupted towards the shop and Burk was forced to duck for cover as each struck the structure, blowing the front façade piece off the roof and sending it crashing to the ground, while the other struck the edge of the building beside it, causing more chaos and rubble as a pipe burst, flooding the street with steam.
Modo and Carbine swept in front of the other pair, the General leaping off the back and heading towards the ruined store front, her own blaster drawn. “Weapons down, hands up where I can see them! DO IT NOW!” she ordered.
Modo looked from her back to Throttle and Jessie, seeing the blood on the young woman’s arm. “Jess, you’re hit!”
“Just a flesh wound,” she promised, though she seemed clearly pained.
Throttle slipped from behind her and Modo hastily reached to offer him his helmet, which the biker pulled on gratefully, closing the visor and breathing a little easier as it allowed him to see again. “Big fella, get Jess back home before anyone else spots her, I’ll clean up here.”
Modo nodded, pulling Jessie from Throttle’s bike and onto his, seating her in front of him. “I’ve got you girl, don’t worry.”
She looked to them remorsefully, “I’m so sorry guys, I thought I could—”
“It’s not your fault, Jess.” Maverick insisted. Strain made himself known then, approaching them with hard set features as he looked around at the all the chaos.
“Well it sure as hell is somebody’s fault. What the hell happened here, it looks like a grenade went off!”
He looked to see Throttle making his way towards Carbine and sighed deeply. “Well that explains it, doesn’t it?”
Modo gave him a warning look. “I’d be real careful how you approach,” Maverick cautioned, voice low and serious and with no love for the leader of the Watchtower. “And just remember that we’ve been picking up the slack for you jugheads for years and years. You owe him some respect.”
“I’ll ask the same of you.” Strain replied tightly. “Don’t go anywhere! I’ve got questions for the both of you!” he added, before making his way to where Carbine and Throttle had disappeared.
Modo glared after him. “Lucky for you, I don’t take orders from the Army.” He muttered, curling his tail around Jessie to make sure she was secure against him. “Take us home, Lil’ Hoss.”
They sped off, Jessie looking anxiously in the rear view as the shop and Throttle faded behind them.
Carbine swept away the shards of broken glass with the side of her boot, grateful for how thick they were, as catching a stray edge would have been both deeply unpleasant and inconvenient.
The pawn shop was disaster zone, overturned and exploded shelves, glass and wood splinters and debris everywhere. Her nose caught the scent of burning fabric and realized one of the velvet curtains was smoking and smoldering. She yanked it down and stomped out the embers as Throttle climbed into the shop behind her.
There was no sign of their shooter.
“You want to start explaining? Or you want to stand here and listen while I make guesses?” she asked him tightly.
“No one asked you to butt in.” He answered, more coldly than she expected.
She blinked at him as he searched the place, really taking him in for the first time, seeing what he was wearing. “Nice suit. Never thought I’d catch you dead in one of those.”
“You almost did.” He muttered. She noticed the blood on the chest and sleeve of the tunic and moved in closer.
“Are you—”
“It’s not mine.” He assured quickly, showing her there was no entrance or exit wound in him or the fabric.
They stared at each other quietly for a moment, then Throttle’s defenses lowered and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you were only doing your job.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. She looked down at the floor and spotted his specs among the debris. She bent and scooped them up carefully, holding them a moment and seeing a sizeable crack in one of the lenses. “You still haven’t told me what you were doing though.”
She pressed them into his palm gently and he nodded, grateful. He turned his head towards the counter. Just below it, a few stray gold gills had fallen and laid glittering in all their garishness on the floor. “It’s complicated.”
“Usually is with you and the boys.” Carbine nodded. “Does it have anything to do with that disturbance in the canyon last night?”
He nodded mutely.
She raised her eyes towards the ceiling and whined quietly. “All I wanted was a nice boring Sunday patrol…”
Strain pushed his way into the room then, using the busted front door. The bell on it chimmed sadly and awkwardly, dented but not broken. The larger mouse stared at the destruction and the pair standing in the middle of it.
“Where’s our shooter?”
Throttle nodded towards the open door behind the counter, making his way carefully around the ruins and peering through it. The back store room was empty, and the sliding door that lead into the back road behind them was left wide open. There were blood drops on the floor, and smear of it along the door itself.
“He made a run for it, looks like. Must have some help. But if he’s bleeding he won’t get far. Sure one of your other patrols can probably catch up with him shortly. You can slap charges on him for money laundering, extortion, bribery and um attempted murder I suppose.” He shrugged. He glanced up and saw Strain looking at him coldly.
Throttle shrugged again, “Of course you’re free to come to your own conclusions. Don’t let me do your job for ya, big guy.”
“Your brand of vigilante justice has no place here, Evander. The war is over. We aren’t under marshal law anymore. I ought to haul your ass in for—”
“For what?!” Throttle shot back with more venom than he expected. “For defending ourselves against a clearly trigger happy con-man who’s been operating under your noses for ages apparently? You’re going to arrest me for that?”
“I have no doubt that the attack was provoked—”
“I’ll show you provoked—” Throttle snarled back and started towards Strain like he was about to punch him but Carbine swiftly pushed between them, knocking the two men apart with a hard shove.
“STOP IT!”
She glared first at the Brigadier as if he should know better and then whirled back towards Throttle. “Quit acting like a meat-head and just tell me what you were doing here? You clearly know something is going on, and if it’s a threat to civilian safety then we need to know about it!”
But Throttle shook his head stubbornly. “The bros and I have it covered.”
“Not an option, Throttle.”
There was a noise then, a shifting of something from the back room. The three mice turned towards the open door again, just in time to see one of Burk’s stock boys, who must have been hiding, make a run for it.
“You there, stop!” Strain shouted, darting after him. Carbine started as well, then paused, realizing that Throttle had not moved to follow.
She looked at him, confused.
“Go on, General. Don’t let him get away.”
Her expression twisted into something between frustration and sadness, and turned to follow Strain, leaving Throttle alone in the shop.
He didn’t linger, limping his way back out of the rumble to where Lady was waiting, tucking his broken field specs into the pocket of the tunic with a heavy sigh. “Come on, ol’ girl. Best we get while the getting’s good.”
***
Chapter Text
***
He arrived back at the trailer a good twenty minutes after Modo and Jessie. He could have arrived sooner, but had weaved and backtracked through the city, partly to throw off anyone who might have been attempting to follow him.
But even as he arrived outside the Van Wham’s trailer, he was reluctant to move from Lady and walk inside. Already guessing what sort of scene he was about to walk in to. It was rare that a plan ever went this poorly. And this was definitely a stand out failure.
Not only had they completely blown whatever cover they might have, but if Burk had managed to get away he was going to tip off Rod and his cronies for sure about the gold. Now the Army was mixed up in it as well. And even if Carbine decided to pity him, she wouldn’t be able to hold off a deeper inquiry forever.
He sighed heavily, removing his helmet and replacing his cracked specs. Luckily, the crack didn’t damage the polar white out setting too terribly in the cracked lens. His vision appeared mostly normal, save for some blurriness on the cracked side.
He looked up at the trailer, hearing muffled voices inside, and sighed heavily, finally drawing himself from his seat and trudging towards the door.
As Throttle made his way to the front door and cautiously pushed it open, he spotted Modo first. Still without his bionic arm, the big grey mouse paced listlessly back and forth in the living room, looking anxious and flustered.
Vinnie and Jessie were not insight, but they could hear the pair arguing faintly back and forth with each other from deeper inside the trailer.
Modo and Throttle stared at each other for a long moment, saying nothing. Each waiting for the other to begin an explanation.
Maverick broke the silence first, his nerves winning out. He started towards him, looking at him hard, almost angrily. “What happened in there? I thought you had it under control!”
Already being on edge, Throttle’s defenses went up immediately, backing away from Modo’s advance. “We did! Until we didn’t.” he explained sharply, shaking his head. “My guess is he made me and Jessie from the jump as people who didn’t belong there. Or he knew about the money before we arrived, maybe even expected someone to come in with it. He got nervous and made a move, there was nothing—”
“That place got shot to hell! What happened to playing it cool?!”
“I told you, he got nervous—”
“He gets nervous--you stay cool--that’s how you always play it, you know that, Throttle!”
The tan furred mouse looked at his grey furred companion incredulously, feeling as if they were both speaking sperate languages, completely misunderstanding each other.
“If it had just been me in there, it would have been fine! If I’d been able to see a damn thing I might have been able to defuse it before he tried to blow us away through the damn display case, but that didn’t happen!” he barked, frustration rising. “And where were you at any rate! You were supposed to be watching our backs!”
“I was! I did!” Modo barked back, his remaining hand in the air as he gestured in his growing frustration. “Carbine stumbled in—”
“Oh, so you know what it’s like to get distracted then?” Throttle shot back.
Maverick bristled, straightening his back and pulling himself up to his full towering height, exhaling like a bull through his nose. His bro had made a valid point, but his guilt made him defensive. “Carbine was a wild card. You and Jessie were supposed to know what you were doing. You were supposed to know what you were doing!” He pointed at Throttle accusatorily. “She’s not a fighter, Throttle, you were supposed to protect her!”
Whatever retort Throttle might have offered died immediately. There was no point to argue here. At the end of the day, Modo was right. He was the hero, the solider, the seasoned fighter who knew his way around dicey situations. Jessie, whatever she had gotten mixed up, was still a civilian. He hadn’t been able to keep the situation from escalating. Jessie had gotten hurt. And now they were more vulnerable than before, a now obvious target on their backs.
“You’re right.” He admitted, tired now, defenses dropped. “I should have squashed this idea from the start. It was too risky to bring her into this.”
Modo found his own panic ebbing, and with it, a cooler head prevailing. Remorse for coming in so hot when it was clear his bro was equally disappointed with the day’s events. He looked him over, at the blood on the tunic, at the crack in his glasses. The fire went out of him and he softened, the worried big brother side of him overriding everything else, closing the small distance between them easily. “Are you hurt?”
He touched the drying splatter on Throttle’s chest and arm as if searching for a wound. The tan mouse shook his head, staring more fixedly at it himself now. “No. It’s not mine.” He looked towards the hall and the bedrooms beyond. “Is she okay?”
Modo followed his gaze. “Vinnie’s patching her up. Was pretty shook up when we got back.”
The voices from the other room continued to grow in pitch and volume and the other pair cringed slightly. “Sounds like it’s going well.”
The door to Jessie’s room came flying open and Vinnie came storming out, muttering under his breath and obviously out of sorts. His eyes fell on Throttle and his features darkened further. “What took you so long?” he barked, clearly exasperated. “I was starting to think you got hauled in!”
“I had to make sure Watchtower didn’t put a tail on me. Or anyone else for that matter. If Rod and his thugs didn’t suspect our involvement with Jessie before, he sure does now.”
Vinnie huffed in frustration. “Great. Juuuust great. So much for flying under the radar!” he muttered. “I never should have left this up to you—”
“Me?!” Throttle gasped, insulted. “Hey, this wasn’t my idea, may I remind you. Your sister said trust her and I did. But who’s plan it was is besides the point. Walking into Brimstone with that much in Plutarkian gold gills was bound to spark trouble either way—”
“So we should have left it here and gone after Rod and his pals directly. Given them the ass-kicking they’re obviously itching for—”
“Right, because that would have gone so well with you and Modo already busted up from last night. Think with your head for once, Vincent.”
Vinnie seethed but bit off whatever retort might be boiling under the surface, dropping moodily onto the sofa, folding his arms across his chest, which still felt tender to the touch after his near crushing.
Throttle sighed heavily, headache brewing. “Now…if you two are done giving me the third degree…we need to focus on what’s in front of us.” He continued, voice tired but even. “I’m still not sure if they collared the guy or not. We should probably stay at the farm tonight, in case there’s any trouble—”
“No way.” Vinnie cut in sharply.
Throttle blinked at him, stunned by the frank defiance.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re the Biker Mice from Mars! We don’t sit around and wait for trouble to come to us! There’s an active threat out there, one who is after my sister and one who has already tried to bust up my bros! Do you really expect me to sit on my tail and wait for these assholes to come to the Maverick’s farm and possibly cause more damage?!”
Jessie came out of the bedroom then, her arm wrapped and now free from the more formal clothing, back into a lavender colored tank top and familiar green cargos. She looked at the three of them, all tense and ready to start in on each other again.
Modo’s attention diverted to her first, anxiously glancing her over. “Jess?”
The other two followed her gaze, momentarily distracted from their argument. But she looked directly to her brother. “Vinnie, you running off to start a fight you’re not even fully prepared for isn’t going to fix anything. You can’t solve every problem with your bike and a fist!”
“Watch me.” He retorted.
“Gods you’re impossible!” she retorted with grit teeth.
“Vincent, just cool down and let’s talk this through—” Throttle started, but Vinnie shot him a look that cut him off immediately.
“You had your chance! Your dumb idea to play dress up and spies nearly got you both blown up. No I think it’s time for a more direct approach.” He started towards the door but Throttle blocked him, and Vinnie looked up, tail lashing, obviously struggling to keep his hot temper in check.
“Bro, I really wouldn’t push it with me just now...”
“You’re pissed, I get it.” Throttle answered. “But even if you think these punks are sloppy, they’re still clearly armed and dangerous. Judging by how it went down at Burks, they’re in some real shit and if you try to take them on your own, you’re gonna end up in worse shape than you already are.”
Vinnie fumed, his frustration boiling just below the surface. He looked at the blood on his bro’s clothing. His father’s suit. Everything he had to loose, everything he had already lost, seemed to loom before him then. Finally squashing some of his outrage.
He exhaled hard and shook his aching head, relenting. “Fine. But you’re not leaving me out this time. Clearly, I’m the secret ingredient in making these plans work.” He dropped down on the couch and Jessie sat on the arm beside him, offering a small shoulder squeeze. She looked relieved when he didn’t pull away from her.
The others breathed a little easier, the tension beginning to ease.
Jessie looked to Throttle. “Did they catch Burk?”
“Can’t be sure, but I doubt it. Which begs the question of what comes next? Does he run to Rod and his pals to tell them what went down? Or does he save his own skin and get the hell out of Brimstone before someone starts inquiring about his business practices.”
“If he’s smart he’ll leave town while he can. What happened to the money?”
“Watchtower would have confiscated it by now. It’ll get locked up impound somewhere as evidence.” The tan mouse explained.
This made the woman look nervous, rubbing her bandaged arm absently. “So much for making the trade off. Which means Rod will still be hard up to repay that debt. Which means he’s going to get even more desperate.”
“Don’t worry, Jess. I’ll keep you safe.” Modo promised, earnest and resolute as she looked up at him. Jessie felt her heart give a warm little leap, her stomach pinching as she looked back at him, seeing there was no lie or doubt in his words.
Vinnie looked between the pair as they gazed at each other and for the first time seemed to fully catch on to what had been brewing right under his nose. His ears perked and he sat at attention, blinking between them. “Uh…did I miss something?”
Both Modo and Jessie blushed, shifting awkwardly.
Throttle stepped behind the couch, patting Vinnie on his other shoulder. “Easy Vincent, don’t pop a blood vessel.” He made his way past the group towards the bedrooms, eager to change out of the borrowed clothes.
As he stepped inside the empty bedroom, he glimpsed the rufuse left on and beside the bed. The bloody gauze and blood stained wash clothes, discarded wrappings of liquid stitch and bandages. The air in the bedroom felt heavy, and Throttle felt that his knees had locked up, his feet taking root to the floor. Something about the scene ate at him. The bizarre, intangeable feeling that he had been here before and would be again. Rooms like this, empty, still holding the debris of injury, pain and eventual ruin, were going to be a constant in his life.
For no reason he could think of then, the ghost of his father rose in his mind. A vivid memory of his own parents bedroom, of him helping to bandage his dad up after a particularly rough journey, when he’d come limping home in the middle of the night. Sometimes with Stoker, sometimes not.
One particularly bad night, when his father had taken a hit to his leg. The wound was almost five inches across, had ruined his jeans and bled into his boots. Blood everywhere, his dad’s hands shaking too bad to stitch it himself. It had fallen to Throttle, who had done the best he could.
He remembered his hands shaking as he tried to stitch the wound the old fashioned way, his dad doubled over and squeezing his thigh, teeth grit, fur wet with sweat.
“I don’t want to hurt you more!” His own small voice, strange in his memory, came back to him.
His father had looked up at him then, eye to eye, mustering whatever calm he still had and had put his big rough hand on the place where his shoulder met his neck and Throttle felt the tremors in his fingers. “Don’t worry about that, okay? I can take it. Do what you need to.”
He had. He had plunged the needle and the thread through his skin, and struggled not flinch when he heard the sharp inhale his father took, biting off the pain. Didn’t move away from the grip on his shoulder, which turned hard and painful as Axle tried to keep composure. But then it was over. He pulled the thread tight to close the wound and bit it off. Axle had collapsed back on the bed, panting but Throttle distinctively remembered the look of relief on his face.
Jessie had told him he would have made a good nurse. Of course he would have. He’d been patching and fixing up his father since before he hit puberty. He had always been trying to fix things.
Throttle pulled himself from the memory with a sharp breath, forcing himself to move and to look away from the bed and trash beside it, moving deliberately towards where his own clothes were laying on a chair beside the dresser.
He hadn’t more than wiggled out of the tunic and undershirt, attempting to pull off the high boots when Vinnie barged into the bedroom with him, glancing back behind him before shutting the door.
“Can you believe this?” he hissed.
“What, that you don’t know how to knock?” Throttle shot back.
Vinnie rolled his eyes, “Please, like I ain’t seen you in way less than that.” He scoffed.
“It’s called courtesy…” Throttle muttered, uselessly.
“Courtesey-smertesy!” Vinnie retorted. “How about Modo making time with my sister! Where’s the courtesy in that?!”
“Oh come on, Vinnie, you know Modo’s always carried a torch for her. Shouldn’t be a surprise that the spark came flickering back to life now that she’s back. Best you just let it play out however it’s going to.”
Vinnie made a gagging face, before turning and focusing on his bro again. “You sure you’re, okay? Heard things got pretty wild.”
“I’m fine.” Throttle assured.
Vinnie moved in a little closer, eyeing his specs. “Still, must have been kinda rough. She must have really laid it on thick to get you to agree to going in without your specs. I know that’s not an easy thing for you. So…” he looked at him pointedly and there was no avoiding his gaze. “…are you okay? Really?”
Throttle smiled at him. “Yes. Really.” He nodded. “But I don’t think we should try that again any time soon. She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I had acted faster.” He looked down warily at the rusty red splatter on the tunic. “I’m sorry about your dad’s suit.”
Vinnie shrugged his shoulders, “Eh, somehow I don’t think he would mind it getting a little scuffed. Pops was never too much for formal wear.” He moved to sit on the bed beside him, taking the fabric from his hands and turning it over thoughtfully. “So…what now? These guys are bad news. I think we need to tackle them head on. But I don’t want Jess in the crossfire again.”
“I agree.”
“But…seems too close and too obvious to leave her with the Maverick’s. Rimfire can hold the fort there and all, but I’d feel better if she were somewhere they wouldn’t come lookin’. Some place I know she’d be safe.”
Throttle considered a moment. “Well…there’s only one place I can think of to guarantee that.”
Vinnie side-eyed him, “…oh?”
“Well, you are overdue for a visit.” Throttle cooed.
Vinnie groaned, hiding his face in the shirt. “Ugh don’t say it don’t say it don’t say iiiit!”
Throttle stood. “Oh come on. Just because Stoker wipped the floor with you in the last motorcross challenge doesn’t mean you get to hide out from him forever. Besides, Harley misses you.”
“Yeah…but I think I owe Bowie for the last bar tab still…” he muttered.
Throttle gave him a stern, parental look and he whined again, throwing up his hands. “Fine, fine! I’ll do it for Harley.” He looked at him pointedly. “But you owe me. Half that tab was your drinks.”
“Deal.”
**
They took every back road and alley into old town, doing their best to avoid being seen by any patrols while also keeping an eye out for any unusual or suspicious characters watching them.
Rather than pulling their bikes into the front lot of the bar, they drove behind the neighboring lots and pulled into the long lawn that spread out behind it, past the back patio where Bowie sometimes served guests, and into the array of scrap and bike parts that Stoker and Harley were slowly hoarding for various projects. Here they could hide their rides easily, sheltering them under a tin roofed awning that was essentially being held up by string and stacks of cement bricks.
“Ugh. This hiding out thing sucks.” Vinnie muttered, “Cherry deserves five star accommodations! Not to be lumped in with the rest of the scrap yard.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Modo reminded him. He had reclaimed his arm after a quick stop home, and while he was glad his nephew had been able to patch it up so quickly, it had cost him dearly in his nephew’s frustration and disappointment. Being left behind to defend the homestead once again was clearly wearing on him.
Jessie dismounted beside him, pulling off her helmet and taking in the look of the yard. “Looks like Stoke’s been busy since I’ve been gone.”
It wasn’t just junk that filled the yard of course. It was more of a color conglomerate of recycling and eco projects. Barrels lined against a fence with funnels and filters to collect rain water, stood beside a few short rows of garden plots filled with dark soil that were budding small but healthy looking vegetables.
Windchimes clinked softly in the distance as the breeze kicked up, stirring the fans of tall windmill that whirled and creaked above a plot of tall, blood red sunflowers, which stood nearly as tall as Modo now.
The mix of chipped and rusted edge colors, orange, blue, pink, army green and yellow made it all feel homey and close and well loved.
“Yeah well, every old man needs a hobby I suppose.” Vinnie shrugged, pretending not to be impressed.
“Who are you calling old man, punk?!”
Stoker’s voice wafted to them from above, and they saw him leaning out the window of the second story, spying them from the upstairs apartment. He looked at them with that old wily fondness that he always did, leaning on the sill with a sigh. “You know you could come in the front door the way everyone else does. Instead sneaking around my lawn like you’re still teenagers.”
“Where would be the fun in that?” Modo called back.
Stoker cocked his head, realizing he had not just three guests, but four. “Who’s your friend?” he called.
Jessie stepped out a little further into view and gave a tentative way. “Hey, Stoker!”
He leaned a little further out the window and then pulled back and disappeared. A moment later, he appeared at the back door and came trotting out to greet them. “No way in hell…my eyes have to be playing tricks on me…”
“Yeah, yeah it was a surprise to us too, no need to—” Vinnie started but Stoker ignored him. As he reached Jessie he threw his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace, hugging her like she was his own. It made them all go quiet for a moment.
Jessie’s was silent only for a moment, feeling the crush of the leaner mouse’s body against hers, the familiar smell of him and closeness making something spark inside her chest. She had worked so hard for so many years to make herself forget about everything here. But it hadn’t forgotten her.
Her eyes welled immediately and she hugged him back just as hard. “I missed you, Stoke.”
“Missed you too, girl. Missed you too.” He pressed a rough kiss to her cheek as he pulled back, taking her in more fully. “Look at that…you don’t know how much you look like your Mama. I thought it was her standing there for a moment, crazy as that sounds. Then again…I thought you were a ghost too.”
Her face crumpled with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Yeah well…don’t be. We have an over abundance of ghosts here. Always nice when we get to keep something warm and breathing a little longer.”
He looked past her finally, taking in his boys. “And you three…getting into trouble as usual I presume?”
“What makes you say that?” Throttle asked, feigning innocence.
Stoker nodded to the obvious crack in his lens. “Call it a hunch. Or call it that I’ve had two house calls today from Watchtower, asking if I’d seen you lot around after that shady little pawn shop got shot up like swiss cheese this morning.”
The boys looked at each other nervously, but Stoker waved it off. “Come on, you can tell me all about it inside. Bar’s been empty all morning and there’s left over breakfast.”
“Thank goodness, I’m starving.” Modo nodded, sticking close to Jessie as they moved after the older Freedom Fighter.
“Wait, who made breakfast? Harley or Bowie?” Vinnie paused, posing the question with absolute seriousness.
“Bowie.”
Vinnie nodded, pleased. “Alright then, load me up. This muscle mouse is in need of some sustenance!” He moved past Stoker, slipping inside ahead of all of them, with Modo and Jessie ducking after and slipping into the inner dark.
Stoker paused at the threshold as Throttle reached him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You good, kiddo?” He looked anxiously at the crack in his glasses.
But Throttle smiled, hoping to ease some of his obvious worry. “Yeah. Things got a little rough, that’s all. Happens.”
Stoker nodded and made a small affirming grunt. “I’m sure I’ve got a spare lens somewhere. We’ll fix you right up. And you can tell me all about the mess we’re in now.”
He looked into the stairwell that divided the bar and the apartment upstairs, watching as Jessie faded through the doorway. Clearly still in a bit of shock. “Does the Prodigal Daughter have anything to do with today’s headlines?”
“Afraid so.”
Stoker sighed. “Well, she wouldn’t be a Van Wham if she didn’t bring a storm on her heels wherever she went.” He rubbed his back and pushed Throttle inside, lingering a moment more at the back door and gazing out across the back lot to make sure no one had seen them before closing the door behind them.
**
Downstairs, the usual bar flies had trickled in now that lunch time had rolled around and the majority of the excitement from this morning had died off, the city returning to business as usual. Bowie kept busy, and kept up appearances that it was just another day, while upstairs Stoker paced and mulled over the details.
The bros and Jessie sat at the small round table in the kitchen, each with their now empty plates and near empty drinking mugs. All weighing their options, which seemed woefully few.
“My favorite part of this,” Stoker sighed, “Is that you came to me for advice as an after thought.”
Vinnie let his head fall back between his shoulders with a loud and disgusted groan. “Oh come on! You really expect to be consulted every time something goes down?!”
“When it involves my city and my bros, yes.” BlackRuby replied sharply as if this should be damn obvious.
“Us not coming before wasn’t anything personal, Stoke,” Modo offered. “It’s a situation that just sorta…came to a head while we were still getting our bearings.” He looked to Jessie, who glanced down at her half empty cup with guilt.
“Hmm.” Stoker grunted. “So the AT walker in the canyon…you think these punks were raiding it to sell the cargo? Pay off this debt they have with the raiders?”
“That’s our best guess.” Throttle nodded. “Or it was a separate score, but Rod seemed real keen on taking the stuff that would sell for the highest amount. It’s clear he’s in hot water. Acting desperate. And it’s only going to get worse now.”
“If he’s that apt to pay off a debt it must mean whoever he owes it to is out looking for him. Which means they’ll come here.”
All of the younger mice looked at him pointedly. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“Sand Raiders haven’t come within ten miles of Brimstone in ages. Not unless they have a death wish.”
“You might be surprised what money compels some people to do.” Stoker cautioned. “Rod and his pals might try to lie low here, but it’s not exactly a good hiding place for them. My guess is they’ll try to stick to the outskirts until they gather what they need.” He looked pointedly at Modo. “Sweep and Rimfire know what’s going on?”
“They’re already on watch.” Modo nodded. “Do you really think they’ll try something at the farm?”
Stoker looked to Jessie. “If they think they might find you there, then I almost guarantee it.”
Jessie shifted uncomfortably. “This is all my fault.”
The older Freedom Fighter shook his head, his long hair slipping off his shoulder and swaying across his back. “Don’t do that. It’s pointless to worry about blame. Facts are we have a problem and we have to deal with it. I think it best if we put out a lure.”
“A what?” Vinnie quipped.
“A lure. Bait. We need to get them to a predetermined location, make them think Jessie and the money will be there. Getting them far away from civilians and anyone else they might be able to use as leverage is going to be key. Question is where…”
Jessie looked around the table at their faces, touched by their worry for her and the way these people—whom she had so foolishly pushed away—had come together without a second thought to help her.
She lifted her gaze and looked at Vinnie then. “They’ll come to the trailer. By now they have to know about it. Once they’ve put it together who our family really is—and they will now that they know who you are—there’s no way they won’t check there.”
“All the more reason to avoid it.” Modo mused.
“No. Actually it’s perfect. If we tip them off that I’ll be there, and they think I’m alone, they’ll swarm in. If you guys can close them in there, we can finish this.”
“What, in a firefight?” Modo gasped. “Jess that’s too risky.”
“Not if we surround them.” Vinnie replied. “If we hide out along the ridge at the edge of the farm, we’ll be able to take them out before things go bad or they have a chance to go at the Maverick’s. How many riders do think, Jess? There were three when we tangoed with them in the canyon.”
“Never less then ten.” She nodded.
“Ten’s easy.” Vinnie nodded, his confidence growing. “Heavily armed of course, especially if they made off with any cargo.” He grinned manically. “But that makes it even better.”
“Bros, lets not get ahead of ourselves…” Throttle cautioned.
Vinnie whipped his head towards him, “What? You wanted a plan, I’m giving you a plan! We heard the baddies to one location, then we snare them, feed them some well deserved payback—”
“And then give them the option,” Modo cut in, his own excitement rising. “Either cool their heels in our jail, or we toss ‘em back out in the desert for the Sand Raiders to collect their debt out of their hide. Should be an easy choice.”
“And a win-win either way!” Vinnie beamed. He looked again at Jessie. “You sure you’re up for this?”
She smiled back at her brother, an old glint in her eye that he hadn’t seen since they were kids. “What was it Daddy used to say? ‘I was born for this’.”
Vinnie whooped and raised his hand, slapping his sister a high five, the resulting crack loud enough to make the others wince slightly.
“No.”
Throttle’s voice, firm and decisive, cut like a knife through the excited clamor.
Vinnie, Modo and Jessie looked at him with confusion, but Stoker only glanced his way, as if he had somewhat expected this.
“Huh? Come again, bro?”
Throttle shook his head. “It’s too risky. I get where your head is at Jess, but you should be far from this situation. Now, if we can make them think you’re there while keeping you holed up here, we might have something—”
Jessie’s palm slapped down on the table, catching their attention as she looked hard at the other mouse. “No! No, I’m not going to sit back on the sidelines and watch while you clean up my mess. I’m not helpless, Throttle. I can fight! It’s not enough for them to think I’m at the trailer—Rod will want to be sure! And if he has any doubt I’m there, he will turn tail and tear this city apart until he finds me.” She looked anxiously towards Stoker. “He’ll come to the Mavericks. He’ll come here. He will not hesitate to hurt any of you to get to me. I’m the one who fucked him over. I’m the one he wants. So I’m the one who’s going to face him. I’m done running away from my problems.” She looked at Vinnie, her eyes misty. “The more I run, the bigger they get. I didn’t think I had anything to lose before but…” she looked from her brother to Modo. “I was wrong about that.”
Modo squeezed her hand gently.
Throttle stood then, his chair scraping across the floor as he pushed it back. “No, I’m not going to dangle you like a piece of meat in front of that guy. I’m sorry, Jess, but it’s too risky.”
Vinnie looked at him hard across the table. “Uh, excuse you? Who gave you last say in this?”
The pair glared at each other and the air in the room seemed to stand still, tension crackling like electricity. The look on Throttle’s face was a mask of composed, cool dissatisfaction, but they could all see that he was close to boiling over. As close as Throttle ever got.
“Okay, Vincent. You want to make the decisions? You want to call the plays? Be my guest. Because let me tell you something—” his voice was tight and fast, the rage underneath beginning to boil over—“I am tired. I am so tired of chasing after you, always one step behind, always trying to keep you from getting your stupid tail shot off because you don’t ever think before you speak or look before you leap! YEARS, Vinnie, YEARS OF KEEPING YOU—BOTH OF YOU—” he looked furiously at Modo, who was wide eyed. “—FROM GETTING YOURSELVES KILLED BECAUSE YOU WANT TO PUNCH FIRST AND ASK QUESTIONS LATER!”
He looked at Jessie, “And what really kills me is that you walked away. You walked away, because you didn’t want to deal with this! You left me and Modo and Stoker and everyone else to pick up the pieces. For years, Jess! And now—NOW—you want to throw yourself into the fray and clean up your mess?! You don’t know what you’re doing and you’re gonna to get someone hurt!”
Vinnie stood now, knocking his chair over as glared Throttle down, his own temper flaring fast and bright, just as his bro described. “You know what I’m tired of, Throttle?!” he seethed. “I’m tired of your superior attitude! I’m tired of you always shaking your head and giving me and Modo that look—that look like you think you’re so much smarter and more capable than us! Like you ALWAYS know best. But we both know that’s not true. Now don’t we?” The growl in his voice was dangerous.
Both Modo and Stoker were on edge, looking between the pair, looking at Vinnie like he was handling a grenade, teasing the pin.
“Vinnie—”
“Shut up, Stoke.” Van Wham barked without taking his eyes off Throttle. “Shut up because you know I’m right and this isn’t about you.”
“You’re a real piece of work, Vinnie…” Throttle muttered, shaking his head. “Fine. If you want to put your sister in danger go right ahead, but when it all goes to shit, don’t come crying to me. I won’t be there to hold your hand and make it all better when this blows up in your face!”
He turned and stared to walk away, but Vinnie wasn’t done. “You’re jealous!” he barked.
Throttle laughed, still walking away, but Vinnie was moving around the table, even as Modo tried to move to stop him. “Wow, you just had to throw your ego in there too huh Vin, couldn’t help yourself—”
“You’re jealous!” Vinnie repeated. “No one asked you to be my keeper you know! No one asked you to take that role, to play big bro, to do any of this! No one asked you! You wanted that place, you wanted people to need you and now that Jess is back you feel threatened—”
“You are so full of shit…”
“Vinnie stop!” Modo hissed.
“You’re jealous, Throttle. You’re jealous that I don’t need you to survive. And what’s worse—you’re jealous because she left and came back. And no one came back for you.”
The pin had effectively been pulled.
“Vincent!”
It was Stoker’s voice, harsh and stunned that uttered his first name in such a way. Not Throttle’s.
Throttle said nothing. He stared at Vinnie with a look that was pure shock. Eyes wide behind his specs. No sound. Barely a breath. An implosion, rather than an explosion.
“He didn’t mean that.” Modo said, breaking the silence first. Still holding Vinnie back, he looked in wide-eyed concerned at Throttle, who still looked like a deer in headlights. Frozen. “Throttle, he didn’t mean that.”
Throttle didn’t look at him. He didn’t look anywhere but Vinnie. And then, finally, he moved. Turning and striding out the door that lead into the hall, slamming it behind him.
“For fuck’s sake…” Stoker muttered, actually looking panicked. He moved hurriedly after the tan mouse, pausing only briefly to look at Van Wham. “I’d slap the shit out of you if I didn’t think it’d break my hand on your cement block of a head!”
He was out the door, leaving the other three behind, Vinnie only just starting to realize what had come out of his mouth, the adrenaline and the anger that had clouded his head a moment before staring to clear. Leaving him face to face with the aftermath.
Slowly, he dropped back into his chair and put his head in his hands. “Fuck.”
***
Chapter Text
*tw heavy angst
***
He was moving too fast. Just short of running. Needing to get more space between him and they eyes that had been fixed on him. Needing air. Knowing his constant, carefully crafted and practiced composure was more than compromised.
He felt sucker punched. Winded. Wounded.
It was more feeling than he could bear just then. And he had to escape.
Throttle was already out the back door and into the yard, kicking up dust and pebbles behind him before Stoker was able to catch him. The older mouse may have more greying hair, but he hadn’t lost a single step.
“Throttle!”
His mentor caught his elbow and pulled him to a stop, the tan furred mouse trying to shake him off unsuccessfully.
“Let me go, Stoke—!” he snapped, the sound coming out a choked sort of snarl. He bit off any further complaint, still trying to hold onto the little bit of control he still had.
“You’ve got every right to walk away from that,” his mentor conceded, keeping his voice even and calm. “You know how Vinnie is when he gets backed into a corner about something. Like a Pitbull on a crowded elevator…” He sighed heavily looking back at the house, still slightly reeling from the exchange. “I just didn’t think he’d turn that on you.”
He studied the younger mouse, waiting for him to explain. To tell him about whatever the hell it was that had stirred up so much trouble between them. And praying it wasn’t the obvious thing.
But the tan mouse stood, silent, refusing to meet his gaze and started to move towards his bike again. “Yeah well, it is what it is. Ain’t the first time we’ve butted heads over things.” He muttered, but the excuse seemed even less than half-hearted.
Feeling more worried, Stoker pressed. “Buttin’ heads is one thing. You and Vinnie can argue each other in circles, hell even you and Modo have gone at it more than a few times. But this was below the belt. This was personal. What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” he barked, then softened immediately as he looked into Stoker’s concerned face. “It doesn’t matter anyway…he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Throttle added, his tone quiet and miserable.
Stoker’s eyes widened in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
The other biker looked back at him, as if he were tired of the older mouse’s denial of the obvious. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. It’s okay to say it. People, leave, it’s what they do. No matter how hard I…” he trailed off, looking at nothing in the distance, jittering, anxious fingers digging into his pockets, and finding the necklace still buried in his jeans. Touching it felt the same as accidentally slicing his hand on unseen glass. Insult to injury. “Something about me just ain’t worth sticking around for. So maybe I am jealous.”
Throttle huffed out a harsh mocking little laugh, looking away and shaking his head. Stoker could see his eyes were wet behind the damaged specs. “I can’t do this.” He muttered again, taking off with renewed speed towards Lady.
Stoker scrambled now, more urgently than before. “Bro, wait, talk to me—“
He mounted Lady in a hurry, not even bothering with his helmet, which fell free and clattered on the ground. He kicked Lady into gear and Stoker planted himself in front of him, grabbing hold of his headlight, refusing to budge.
“Out of my way, Stoke!”
“Turning tail isn’t the way to fix this!”
It may have been the truth, but it was clear that Throttle had heard enough “truths” for the day.
He threw Lady into hard reverse, pulling free of Stoker’s block. Dust and pebbles kicked up in a cloud behind him as he swerved hard and took off through the side gate, leaving Stoker coughing in the dust.
Modo came trotting out, cursing to see he had come too late, reaching Stoker only as his other bro sped away. “Where’s he going?” He gasped.
Stoker waved the dust from around his face. “To blow off steam.”
Modo spotted Throttle’s fallen helmet on the ground and scooped it up gingerly, a new knot of worry in his stomach.
“Oh mama…I think we really messed up this time.”
Stoker looked at him as if this were the understatement of the year.
Vinnie’s voice wafted towards them from the back door, the white furred mouse trailing out with Jessie not far behind. The third member of the Biker Mice approached without really looking at the pair waiting for him, already lost in whatever he was trying say, as if ready for whatever rebuttal he thought he had waiting for him.
“Okay, okay, so things got a little heated back there. I admit that, and maybe some things were said that were—“
“Can it!” Stoker barked. Vinnie blinked in surprise, not just by the anger in Stoker’s voice but in realizing the person he was fumbling an apology to wasn’t even there. Throttle was conspicuously absent among the group. He saw his bro’s helmet in Modo’s hands and stiffened, confused and wary.
“What in the hell would possess you to say something like that to him?” Their mentor demanded, closing in on Vinnie and making the younger mouse take a step backward reflexively. “Seriously, Vinnie, I’d love to know. So let’s hear it.”
Vinnie bristled, obviously uncomfortable under the familiar scrutiny of his mentor. He glanced to his sister, as if he expected her to offer some backup. But Jessie seemed as shocked as the others were, perhaps more, considering her lack of context for how the bros usually handled conflict between them.
“The mouse asked you a question.” She offered. “If you think it was justified…” she gestured, as if hoping he had something to back this up. “…let’s hear it.”
“Look, maybe what I said was harsh—“
“Harsh?” Modo chimed in this time, and Vinnie’s ears flattened a little hearing the serious and agitated timber of his usually easy baritone. “Road rash is harsh. That was way over the line. You know he just lost Carbine, why would say something like that?!” Modo gasped.
“What do you mean lost Carbine?” Stoker asked, startled even further by this new information.
Modo looked at him remorsefully. “It’s over, she gave him back his stone and everything. Happened the other day.”
Stoker sighed heavily. “Shit…”
Vinnie paused again and then glared at Modo, “Hey I didn’t exactly hear you disagreeing with me! You know exactly how he gets and how he’s been since Jess showed up.”
“Which is what exactly?” Stoker cut in, glaring at all of them.
“Like he doesn’t trust her!” Vinnie gasped, clearly exasperated as he came to crux of his outburst, the bur in his side.
Modo frowned, because he couldn’t deny this. Throttle had all but said as much. He hadn’t wanted to listen either, had been reluctant to really face the fact up until they had been confronted by Rod and his crew.
Vincent Van Wham looked between his sister and his bro, “Look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t say anything to either of you about it. You think I don’t hear things, that I don’t pay attention, but those walls a thin.”
“He had reason to be.” Jessie cut in, surprising both of them. “I’m not exactly proud of it, but Throttle was the only one who saw that I was in trouble. You were pissed at me, and you…” she looked helplessly at Modo. “I think you were too sweet to say what you really thought.”
She looked at Stoker pointedly then. “There’s a gang of smugglers that followed me back here. I had something that they owed to the Sand Raiders they were mixed up with. I came here to hide it and regroup, but…I wasn’t expecting to find you three waiting for me.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Stoker said bluntly. He stormed away from the three, making towards his own bike. “Once again, it’s up to me to pull your sorry butts out of the fire. Modo, you’re with me.”
Modo paused only a second to glance at Vinnie and Jessie before hurrying to follow suit, the urgency of the situation becoming more concrete by the minute. Vinnie started to follow too but Stoker held up a hand, blocking him. “Nope. You’re gonna stay here where your big mouth can’t do anymore damage and really think about how you’re gonna fix this when we get back.”
He looked past Vinnie and caught Jessie’s eye too. “Both of you.”
Vinnie scoffed, stunned and irritated at being spoken to like a child. But the look on Stoker’s face coupled with his own mounting guilt shut off any argument.
“Boys?” A lighter voice called from the back door, Harley standing there, looking curious and concerned. “Everything alright?”
Her tone indicated that she knew it wasn’t.
Stoker nodded back to her. “Just got a mess to clean up, darlin’. As usual.” He blew her a kiss and then sped off, Modo right beside him.
Vinnie watched them go, a helpless pit forming in his stomach. He looked to Jessie, as if in hopes of some understanding. To his surprise, his sister looked as lost and guilty as he felt.
“What did you mean by that?” She asked him quietly. “That he’s jealous that no one came back for him? What did that even mean Vinnie?”
Vinnie folded his arms around himself and turned slightly as Harley came to join them there in the yard. “It’s a long story.”
Jessie blinked at him and then turned to greet the honey colored woman she didn’t recognize. Harley looked at her curiously, but didn’t approach her first, instead looking at Vinnie.
“Sounds to me like your engine got a little overheated back there.” She offered with considerably more charity than Stoker had offered. She cupped the side of his face gently, always the masked side, fingers smoothing over both flesh, fur and chrome.
Any bravado he had left melted, his remorse evident. “Yeah. I blew it.”
Harley looked at him sympathetically and coaxed him to meet her eyes again. “I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t work out. You bros always do.” She looked at Jessie then, “and who’s your friend?”
“I’m um…Vinnie’s sister, Jessie.”
Harley’s big blue eyes widened in surprise now looking more carefully between the pair and realizing the resemblance. “Oh really?” She gasped. She looked more pointedly at Vinnie now, silently questioning how this had never come up before, and offering Jessie her hand to shake. “Well, I’m Harley. Good to meet you, Jessie.”
The white furred woman looked more confused. “Yeah, you too…sorry, how do you know my brother?”
Vinnie and Harley exchanged loaded glances, the mechanic turned nurse smiling somewhat incredulously. “Well um…”
“Like I said. It’s a long story.” Vinnie replied.
**
Modo was not surprised when Throttle did not answer his coms. With his helmet stored behind him, it would have been easy enough for him to ignore or turn off his radio as well.
He was surprised however, when he realized that his bro had also turned off his tracker on his bike. And he must have been going flat out, wherever he was heading, to leave no trace of himself a long the road, only vague tire tracks that were easily lost in the shifting sand across the streets.
He and Stoker followed the most likely path in silence, finding no trace of the mouse in the city and heading to its farther edge, back towards the farm and the trailer.
They stopped on a hill, just at the edge of the Maverick’s land. From this vantage point, they could see across the couple acres to the Van Wham’s trailer in the distance. But there was no sign of the silver and black motorcycle or it’s rider anywhere.
Modo tapped his com. “Rimfire? Primer? Anyone here me? This is your uncle Modo, come back.”
There was a momentary pause of radio silence and then Primer’s voice, sounding pleased but slightly flustered. “Hey Uncle Modo! What’s up?”
“Hey, girl you seen your Uncle Throttle around?”
A seconds pause and then his niece answered back “No…didn’t he leave out of here with you and Vinnie a little while ago?”
Modo looked anxiously at Stoker and then back to the horizon. “Yeah, but we got split up. Will ya let me know if he stops by the house?”
“Sure…is everything ok?”
“Nothing to worry about. Just keep yer ears perked, darlin’. Appreciate ya.” He ended the transmission before she could ask any further questions. He looked to Stoker. “Where could he have gone? It’s like he just vanished.”
Stoker’s fingers drummed across the handlebars as he considered their options, then said almost twinging look came across his face. “If he doesn’t want to be found…there’s only one place he’s go. Follow me.”
Modo’s brow furrowed but he nodded, following his mentor’s lead as they rumbled away from the farmland.
The path Stoker lead them down became rougher and more difficult as they sped along. The pavement here clearly hadn’t been tended and treated in a long time, weeds growing up through the cracks. They were at least two miles off the main highway now, on the very periphery of Brimstone, in an area that had essentially been reclaimed by the wastes since the war.
“Why are we way out here?” Modo asked, almost wondering if Stoker had somehow gotten lost.
The older Freedom Fighter glanced back at him. “You really don’t remember?”
Modo blinked, clearly confused, scanning the landscape again. It was rockier terrain here, more spires of rock and small cliffs and mesas. Not far from here there had been a few pockets of volcanoes, all dormant for many years. Trees grew better here than in most of other places, filling in the lower terrain between the rocks. It had once been very pretty, and quite the place to explore. The wilds at the edge of their great city, before it opened fully onto desert plains. But no one had been here in ages, as it had long been deemed too unsafe. For a great multitude of reasons.
Stoker nodded to the ragged pavement below them. “Tire tracks. Recent ones too. Can’t tell if they’re his, but I’m not sure why anyone else would be out here.”
As they followed the broken road, the memory began to open up. As they came around a sweeping curve of what Modo first thought was just another foothill of the cliffs, he was greeted with a stark color change in the rock. No longer the familiar rust red, but black and grey, glittering and crusted.
Lava rock. Discolored by sand and dust but now showing its glistening black shell for what it was. Vegetation had begun to grow on it and it might have been beautiful. If it were not poured into the center of what had been a small residential neighborhood.
The black rock had flooded over the area, consuming land and structures alike. Some buildings still stood, partially encased in the new formed rock. But most had been burned to their foundations. Only stone, cement and piping left behind. It was a strange and disquieting scene, this ruin that had nearly been forgotten about even by even such life-long residents as they had been. It was as if they had collectively blocked it out, not having enough mental bandwidth for all the tragedy they had seen.
They came to a dead end street and Stoker pulled to the edge of a sidewalk, overgrown with weeds. A series of cement stone steps that lead up to the foundation of what had once probably been a very cozy family home. But the home itself was gone. Consumed by fire decades ago.
Modo stared at it, a chill going down his spine. “This was it?”
Stoker nodded. “Once upon a time.” He nodded. “I used to trip up these stairs quite regularly, me and Axle dragging each other’s sorry asses inside after a long patrol. Sorry pair of idiots we were back then.” He looked wistfully to the top two steps that actually touched the foundation itself. “Throttle and Rosie used to sit right there and wait for us.” He smiled thinly at the memory and then looked back to Modo. “You really don’t remember this place?”
The big grey furred mouse looked solemnly at the wreckage. “Not like this. Not a burnt outline of building.” He explained. “Throttle was always at our place seemed like. Hardly saw this place after…”
He grew quiet again, the weight of the place and its significance heavy on his shoulders.
“Why would he come back here?”
Stoker’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “Can’t say for certain. Just something about what Vinnie said, the look Throttle had after. Made me wonder if he might.”
The big grey furred mouse shook his head. “I can’t believe Vinnie dug up that kind of ancient history like that. They’ve been uneasy as hell since Jess rolled back in but I had no clue that was still brewing in the back of Vinnie’s mind.” He glanced down at his arm, considering his own part in that mistake. But he shoved the thought away as quickly as it came. “Bringing up Mace like that right after he gets dumped by Carbine—”
“Mace?” Stoker gasped, cutting off Modo’s thought abruptly.
The old Freedom Fighter looked back at his protégé in confusion, and Modo cocked his head. “Huh?”
“You think that was about Mace?” Stoker gasped, seeming incredulous.
“He’s only ever had two relationships, and Carbine just left. Seems kinda on the nose to me. What else would it be about?”
Stoker gestured to the ruin they stood in. “Vinnie said no one came back. But I think you two forget how much your bro has already lost before that ever happened. Or did you forget how Throttle ended up being such a mainstay at your Mama’s house?”
Modo looked back at the barren foundation, old memories stirring from their archives. Childhood things, tucked away as their world became so much larger, and so much less certain. An awful ache bloomed in his chest.
“He couldn’t have thought Vinnie meant that--!” he gasped. “Vinnie might have been angry, but he would never—”
“Maybe not.” Stoker said without looking at Modo. His own gaze was fixed on the place where the house once stood, as if mesmerized by it. “Just the way he looked at me, what he said when he did. That he wasn’t worth stickin’ around for…”
Modo winced, hearing this. “Oh man…he can’t really think that, can he?”
Stoker didn’t answer readily, thinking to himself. “You didn’t see what I saw that night.”
It hadn’t started out as a bad night. He had started out ordinary and peaceful. Happy even.
Thirteen and still scrawny for his age, Throttle gripped the handlebars of Stoker’s bike with deadlock ferocity, grinning fiercely into the win as they sped across the old highway. Sunset, near twilight. No one on the road but them.
Stoker, sat right behind him and ready to take control the moment they went off kilter, was whooping and hollering, having nearly as much fun as the kid in front of him.
“That’s it! Give it some gas, kiddo, don’t be shy! My ol’ girl ain’t afraid of a little speed!” He coaxed over his shoulder.
Throttle nodded, gaining confidence and opened her wide, the engine roaring with the sudden influx and they jolted forward like a bullet train.
Throttle almost lost his grip, but Stoker’s rough hands slid easily over his, keeping them pointed straight and true. They crest over a small hill in the road and came down with a bounce into a wheelie and the teen yelped in both fear and delight again.
They slowed, going easily into a controlled skid before coming to a stop along the edge of the road. “You like that huh?”
“Hell yeah!” Throttle cheered back, wide eyed and beaming.
Stoker grinned back at him. “Man, you’re just built for this, huh? You got that wild-child look in your eye that only real adrenaline junkies get when they really let loose.”
The boy looked back at him, swelling with a new sense left pride. “You think so?” He pulled off the borrowed helmet and shook out his sweat damp hair, giving Stoker’s ride an appreciative pat along her tank. “I can’t wait till I can get one of my own. Dad says not until I’m older. Ma says not until I’m 40.”
Stoker chuckled, un-surprised. “Yeah well, your Ma worries about ya is all. She’ll come around. Till then, we can keep these practice sessions between us. Then when you’re ready for a ride of your own, she’ll see there’s nothing to worry about.”
The boy nodded and looked off into the distance then, the previous thrill and enthusiasm fading from him slowly, like a coal burning low. Stoker thought how much older he looked when his features were set so seriously this way.
“Dad’s not been sleeping too good last few nights. She’s getting worried.”
Stoker nodded solemnly. “I know. But when I came to get you, your Ma said he was about to lie down for a nap. And that was hours ago. He’ll be feeling better when we get back, I’m sure. He just needs some good rest to get his mind right.”
“Make him stop seeing the ghosts?” Throttle added.
The two gazed at each other and Stoker nodded slowly. “He tells you about them?”
“No.” Throttle answered. “And yes. Sometimes, when he’s been drinking. He’ll tell me. But mostly, I hear him talking to people who aren’t there.”
“They aren’t real, kiddo. It’s just bad memories. Things that still hurt him.” Stoker nodded. “He just need to sleep. And stay the hell away from the liquor. Then he’s fine.”
But they both knew the use of the word was inaccurate. “Functional” might have been a better fit. But functional was one step closer to normal.
Throttle nodded, hopeful. But they both knew to be cautious in that hope.
Stoker stretched with a big exaggerated yawn, then used his tail to coil around the smaller mouse’s waist, hoisting him from his spot in front and lining him over his head before letting him drop easily behind him.
“Hey! I thought you were gonna let me drive home?!”
“Not tonight, kiddo. If your Mama catches you, I’m the one who will end up with his tail in a sling.”
Throttle sighed, clearly disappointed but also quietly relieved. His hands were still shaking ever so slightly from the rush, the adrenaline wearing off. They would ache into his wrists through the night. But it was a good ache.
They rumbled off again, back towards the old neighborhood. Above them Phobos was rising, full and somehow angry looking, taking on an uncommon aura of light around it. Although lovely, it gave Stoker an uneasy feeling. One that would turn out to be warranted.
As they rumbled up to the sidewalk, pulling up the drive that lead around to the back of the house and the garage, there was already the inkling that something was wrong.
As soon as Stoker killed the engine of his bike, the muffled shouting from inside the house could be heard, cutting through the otherwise quiet night air.
Both Mice tensed, ears and antennas perking. A small electric shiver ran down Throttle’a spine and followed all the way down his tail. There was a feeble, silent wish between them, that the sounds were not coming from the Evander's. But they both knew better.
The boy was off the bike before Stoker could grab him, making his way hurriedly through the back door. “Mom? Dad?!”
Stoker hastened to follow, stepping into the back door and up the small step that lead into the kitchen, which was still warm with the lingering smells of dinner and recently washed dishes, night air filtering in through the open window that overlooked the driveway and the yard behind.
Axle’s voice in a distant room was a roar that felt like it shook the walls. But Rosie’s scream of dismay was so much closer.
Stoker sprinted around the corner, nearly sliding on the clay tile floor and rounded into the living room, making his way towards the stairs to the second floor.
Throttle was already there, at the foot of the stairs, at his mother’s side. The tawny furred woman was slumped against the wall halfway down the stairs. Her hair was coming close from bun at the back of her head, wild springs and coils of hair falling over her face, but it could not hide the thin line of blood that went across her forehead.
Her eyes were fixed on the floor above, breathing shakily, taking a minute to register the other mice as they crashed into her house.
“Mom?!” Her son gripped her arm urgently and tried to pull her towards him, off her awkward perch on the steps.
She finally dragged her gaze away from the top of the stairs and blinked at him, before pulling at him, as if trying to pull him into her lap. “Honey! Watch your feet, there’s glass!”
Throttle glanced down to see some of the picture frames had come off the wall and shattered on the floor. The teen shook his head, caring little for what was crunching under the soles of his shoes. “You’re bleeding!”
She blinked at him, as if not yet having realized this fact. Stoker was beside them in short order, while muffled muttering and growls continued above them.
“Rosie,” he reached and lifted her slight frame easily from the steps, sweeping her away from the mess. He looked warily at the cut on her head, trying to inspect it closer. “What happened? How long has he been like this?”
She swallowed roughly, looking worriedly upward again, ignoring the way the other biker was fussing over her, trying to better gauge how serious the cut across her brow was. “He finally fell asleep, but he must have been having a night terror. I tried to calm him down but—“ her lip quivered, whole body shivering. Clearly frightened. How could he possibly blame her, with the sounds the wounded beast upstairs was making. Like the world was ending.
There was another crash of furniture from upstairs and a pained shout from the mouse missing in action, and Throttle was suddenly on the move, both his mother and Stoker trying to grab for him, but he was too quick.
“Little bro, don’t go up there! Throttle, wait--!” Stoker rushed to follow, and when Rosie started to scramble after he twisted sharply to look at her. “No! Stay there, Rose, let me handle it!”
At the top of the stairs, the second floor opened in a crescent shaped loft from which the other rooms branched off.
Throttle spotted his father on the floor, on his knees, hunched and holding his head, fingers dug deep into his hair and clawing at his scalp. Mewling. Moaning. Saying something that the boy couldn’t understand. Either because it was muffled or because it was nonsense. The ravings of a sick and tortured soldier who’s mind was coming undone. Unable to cope. Unable to distinguish between the past and the here and now. The hurt, the fear, all of it bleeding together.
Throttle had paused, and then slowly edged towards the mouse on the floor, careful to avoid the broken wardrobe and overturned lamp that was still flickering an odd spotlight of yellow across the wall and creating shadows at strange and disjointed angels. Adding to surrealness at hand.
“Dad…?”
Throttle approached his father the same way he approached the temperamental old sow that belong the Mavericks. Slowly, gently. Trying to be a soothing and non threatening as possible.
“Dad, it’s okay. You just woke up wrong. The ghosts aren’t here, it’s just Mom and me. It’s okay.”
Axle huffed several harsh breaths, but the moaning stopped, reduced to sniffling and gasps. After a moment, he looked towards Throttle, a wild-eyed wreck. It made the boy stand very still, obviously afraid. Either of him, or for him, Stoker didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
The older biker was on the move then, drawing his attention away from the young mouse. “Ax…” he greeted cautiously. “Ax, come on. Let’s sit down, catch our breath. It’s going to be fine.”
Axel looked rapidly between them for a moment, as if unsure if they were there to harm him or not. If he believed they were who they said they were. But slowly, slowly, something like clarity started to filter back into his eyes. Whatever horror had snared him losing it’s grip. Just a little.
“Where…where’s Rosie?” he panted.
“She’s downstairs.” Stoker replied. “She’s okay…”
Throttle glanced back behind them, and saw the dent in the drywall near the stairs. Saw the broken wooden sculpture that had sat beginning and forgotten on an end table for ages, that had clearly been lobbed at great force at the wall. His expression changed as he looked back at his father.
“You didn’t throw that at her…did you?”
The accusation cracked through the air like electricity and Stoker winced. But Axle looked wide eyed at his son, as if unable to comprehend the question for a moment. Then he shook his head quickly. “No…no, I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I didn’t. It wasn’t her standing there it was…” For a moment that haunted look came over his face again, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of his answer.
Stoker moved in, “Axle, hey, buddy, you gotta look and me and listen alright? What day is it? I need you to tell me what day it is, and where you’re at.”
He was trying to reorient him. Trying to bring him back to the present and out of the hell inside his head.
Most of the time, this was enough.
But not tonight.
Axle’s face changed again. No longer a mask of fear, but of rage.
“Do you really think I would ever do anything to hurt your mother? Do you really think that?!” he bellowed.
Throttle winced, almost cowered at the rage in his father’s voice, now turned on him. But he didn’t apologize immediately, or back down. Torn between worry and loyalty of each parent.
“She’s hurt all the same.” He pointed out, mustering what courage he could. Then, more assertively, with blooming frustration that had been building for heaven knows how long. He said the thing he normally wouldn’t. “I know you’re hurting, but the ghosts aren’t real! They’re not real and we are! You might think you’re hurting them but you’re hurting us!”
Axle turned towards his son with an expression that would haunt both Throttle and Stoker for the rest of their lives. It was the look of a person possessed. A complete distortion of the mouse they both knew and loved. Anguish and hatred, muddled with a sort of wounded confusion.
“Dad…”
He took a small step back towards the stairs, and Stoker gripped Axle’s shirt in both hands, leaning closer, “Axle—”
The broader, stronger ranger surged forward and out of Stoker’s grip with stunning force, charging the smaller mouse, who could not move fast enough. Axle lunged at him, grabbing the small figure by the front of his shirt, dragging him upwards until only his toes touched the floor, shaking him hard enough that collar of his shirt tore with the force.
“And what the hell good are you for then?! Huh? You were supposed to fix it! You were supposed to make everything alright!! So why does it still hurt?! They’re dead and you’re alive, so why is nothing better?!”
Throttle’s were huge, made to look even bigger by the way they welled with shocked and pained tears. He tried to stammer out some answer to the awful question his father demanded. But he couldn’t. There was nothing to say.
Stoker was in between them, wrenching the smaller body away from his partner and shoving the broader mouse back hard enough to make him stumble and fall into the dresser, tipping it to the side with another loud bang and crash.
“Don’t you put your hands on that boy ever again!” Stoker bellowed at him, his own fury enough to rival his partners. “That’s your son! Your son! Have you lost your mind completely!? What are you saying?!”
Axle howled back at him, and charged again but Stoker was ready now, feet planted. He cuffed his partner along side the head, elbowed him in the chest and then tripped him, bringing him to the floor with a thud.
Winded, the other mouse lay there gasping and cursing. “You fucking bastard! Get off me! How dare you hit me, you fucking traitor--!”
Stoker brought his boot down on his back and flattened him again. “SNAP THE HELL OUT OF IT!” he yelled. Axle twisted and tried to tear at him, but Stoker again pinned him. If Evander had been in his right mind, if this had been a real fight, he might have struggled more. But this was a battle with a sickness, and it was uncoordinated and unfocused. The surges of insane strength came fast, but faded quickly.
“You can rage, and you can cry, and you can howl at the gods all you want, but it’s not going to bring your boys back, Axle. I know. I’ve been right there in that hell with you. But you haven’t fucking lost everything. Don’t you dare EVER speak to your son like that again—”
“Stoke!” Rosie was at the top of the stairs now, and there was another set of footsteps behind her. A neighbor and their husband, come to help.
The sight of his wife, the sound of her voice, seemed to bring Axle back to some kind of focus, and he stopped struggling against Stoker’s hold. The cut on her forehead startled him, starting to piece together the events.
He laid there panting, and then curled in on himself, too ashamed to look at any of them.
Stoker moved away, and back towards Throttle, who was pressed against the wall, just staring. Stock still and unnaturally quiet.
“Kiddo, go downstairs with your Mama. I’ll take care of him.” He assured.
Throttle didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him and Stoker’s chest tightened and he touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Throttle…it’s okay…”
Rosie moved to he son, looking at him carefully. “Baby, you alright?”
He just looked at her, dazed. She hadn’t heard what he’d said to him. She didn’t know all the hurts were on the inside. For whatever reason, in that moment, he decided that he never wanted her to know.
He gave her a shaky sort of smile and nodded. “I’m okay, Mama. I’m fine.”
She kissed his forehead and hair, hugging him close before looking back at her husband, who was still struggling. She and Stoker exchanged cautious looks with each other, and she moved in closer.
“Honey…” she coaxed.
Axle, on his knees, looked up at her cautiously through the curtain of loose sweat damp hair. “Rosie?” He stared at the blood on her forehead and whimpered. “Rosie…”
“Shh. It’s okay. I’m fine. The edge of one the frames caught me when I was going down the stairs. It’s not even bleeding anymore.” She assured him, talking soft and light. “I think we ought to take you into town honey. Get you looked at by the doctor. Just for tonight. It’s been so bad, Ax, and you’re so tired…if you just sleep—”
He shook his head. “No doctor. No, I’m not going.”
“Honey please…” her desperation was obvious in that plea. This was her husband. The man she loved more than anything. Who on his good days, was everything she had dreamed. A good spouse, and good father, and good person. But when this darkness in him took over….she was helpless. Just waiting for the storm to pass.
“You’re going.” Stoker said resolutely. “Stop pussin’ about it. You’re going. You need help!”
Axle snarled at him. “Fuck you. Get out of my house you back-biting, cock-sucking—”
“SHUT UP!” Throttle shouted, startling all of them. “Don’t call him that! Don’t say that! He’s just trying to help you—” He started towards his father, the same as he would have any bully who was after one of his friends or one of the smaller kids, and pushed at him, as if trying to knock some sense back into him.
Whatever calm Axle had managed to reclaim was gone instantly and he struck out at the boy, grabbing him by the face and pushing him to the floor. He would have fell on him, but Stoker hit him first. Axle fell back to the floor, his cheek bone throbbing as he crashed down from the hook his partner had just landed on him. It stunned him, leaving him dazed on the rug.
Stoker was done hesitating. He picked Throttle up, getting the boy to his feet and tucking him under his arm, and then grabbed for Rose, arm around her waist. They were rushing the door as he looked at the stunned neighbor. “Call an ambulance. Wait for them outside. Don’t go near him.”
They all struggled down the stairs, trying to avoid the broken glass and frames. They moved in a hurried rush, hitting the back door once more, but not going for the bike idling near the detached garage. Instead they made for Rosie’s jeep.
Stoker shuffled them into the back seat and slipped behind the wheel, only leaving once he’d made sure the neighbors were safely outside and help on the way. Then he sped off, anxious to clear the neighborhood so he could punch the gas. There was only one place he could think to go then, glancing back at the shaken and disheveled pair in the back seat, huddled together.
Ten minutes later, they were rolling up to the Maverick homestead, and shuffling their way towards the front door.
It opened, and a woman with long silver hair, plaited in a braid that hung to her elbow, and wearing a robe came to the door. Ada Maverick had seen the lights of the jeep pulling up to her farm, and knew it meant trouble even before she knew who was inside.
Her son, fifteen and already taller than her by almost a head, shuffled in as well. They watched as Stoker escorted Rosie and Throttle to the door.
“Stoker? What’s going on, what’s happened?”
The Ranger gave her a mutedly grim look. “Sorry for not calling ahead, Ada. Kind of an emergency.”
Rosie gave a miserable little sniffle, and tried to hide her face. Embarrassed and overwhelmed.
Mrs. Maverick swept towards her without another thought, putting her arms around the smaller framed woman. “Oh honey, honey…come inside. I’ll fix you right up.” She coaxed.
Rosie mumbled her gratitude and let the woman lead her inside. Ada looked back at Stoker and Throttle, glimpsing the boy worriedly. “Sweetheart, come in. Getting cold out there.”
Throttle didn’t budge. He didn’t even seem to hear her, or really register what she was saying. Modo slipped out into the porch with them, and nodded to Stoker. “I’ll sit with him.”
The Ranger patted the taller teen gratefully on the shoulder and then disappeared after the two women.
Modo had given his friend a worried once over, and then motioned for him to follow him. The pair had flopped down at the edge of the porch, legs dangling off the edge, staring out at the expanse of waving prairie grass that grew along the front of the homestead.
“Is it your dad?” Modo asked cautiously.
Throttle nodded, but said nothing. Modo saw how ruffled he was, the tear in his clothing. Could feel his body heat, raised by the stress, radiating off him. Cautiously, the older mouse put his hand on his friend’s back. “It’s okay. You guys can stay with us until he’s better, no problem.” He smiled hopefully, as if this might be of some comfort to the other.
Throttle didn’t answer. He kept staring into the dark. Then, finally, he glanced in Modo’s direction, eyes wet and voice strained, trying to hold in a cry. “I don’t think…he’s going to get better. Not this time.”
Modo took a deep breath and gave aa small stress shiver, brow furrowing. “Wasn’t long after that, was it? A few days I guess. Since he…”
Stoker nodded.
Modo’s face fell in a hard wince. “No one came back for you.”
The words had such horrible weight now. And he was sure Vinnie had no idea how painfully accurate he had been. If he had, he was sure he never would have said such a thing.
Maverick nodded. “He doesn’t ever talk about it. Not ever. He brings up his mama sometimes, but not often. I guess it hurts him too much.” He sighed heavily. “My head’s been up my ass, Stoke. I didn’t think Jessie coming back would affect him like this. Bring all this up again.” He looked at his mention, “Why didn’t he just say something!?”
“Because our bro has a bad habit of trying to fix himself by fixing everyone else.” Stoker explained. “Vinnie said he’d been hovering lately. Being a mother hen. I bet Jessie did throw a huge wrench in the works for him. You two didn’t need him as much.”
Modo winced again. “That’s not true. He’s our bro. We want him around regardless.”
“You tell him that lately?”
Modo thought about how quick he had been to jump at Throttle after what happened in town. He had been worried, not just about Jessie, but about him. He trusted Throttle to always be on top of things, as he had so often proven he was. He trusted that certainty, that Throttle could handle anything, even if he and Vinnie fell short. It seemed a given. And that was clearly the problem.
“Man, we messed this up.”
“Yeah well, don’t focus on what you didn’t do then. Focus on what you can do now.” He moved from his bike and walked around the remaining sidewalk and street on foot, studying the ground. “There’s tire tracks here, but…I don’t think they’re Lady’s anymore.”
Modo moved to do his own looking around, and realized in the lot next to them there was clear evidence of the dirt drive—mostly weeds and seed grass now—had been recently disturbed. Deeper, bigger tracks were there, pressed into the dirt. “Even if they were…looks like someone else was here too.”
They scanned the area, looking into the trees and surrounding mounds of rock and skeletal buildings, suddenly afraid they were being watched.
“I think we should go.” Modo cautioned. “If he was here, we would have seen him by now.”
Stoker nodded silently, but Modo still had to guide him back towards his bike. The place seeming to still have a grip on him.
They turned and sped off, hastening back the way they came. They had lost more than an hour, and it seemed like the longer their bro was MIA, the more dire the situation felt.
Modo refused to think that Throttle would go down the same path his father had. But he also knew there were some pains that never really went away. And sometimes, it won.
That wasn’t going to happen to his bro. Not while he was around.
***
Chapter Text
***
Vinnie paced the yard like a dog on a chain. Arms folded across his chest, eyes fixed on the back alley roads his bros and he had used to come and go from here. Behind him, Harley and Jessie were talking, but he wasn’t really listening.
His anger was a thing with a life of it’s own, and over the years, it seemed to have taken up more and more mental headspace for him. When he was fighting—either on Mars or Earth—either in the war or in the constant skirmish battles they had held in the streets of Chicago—it served it’s purpose. It was a tool, a driving force. Something he used to his advantage.
But only now, since they had come home and there were no more battles to be fought. The righteous rage that had been fuel for him, stagnated. Regret began to mix with it. Regret for what he’d lost. Fear for what he might never get back. For who he might never get back…
Motorcross, and hunting Sand Raiders and picking fights in random bars with random trouble makers was not enough of an outlet for such a heady mixture. It had begun to poison him.
A light had touched his shoulder and he turned sharply. For half an instant, he expected someone else. Auburn hair and smooth skin. Bright green eyes.
“Vinnie?”
He blinked at Harley, and the dizzying overlap of Charlie remained in his mind even as he looked at her. It was not the first time this had happened, and it was just as jarring then as it was now.
The blue-eyed mechanic looked at him with tight concern. “Easy, hot-shot. You need to cool that engine.” She looked at him plainly. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”
“No.” he said bluntly. He looked past her in frustration, back to where Jessie lingered a little further back and the back of the bar/apartment behind them. “I’m really not interested in another lecture. Throttle and I had words, that was it. He’ll be back soon enough and we’ll talk it out—it’s fine!”
He looked at his sister, exasperated. “And you! You freakin’ threw me under the bus back there! When I defended your honor!”
Jessie looked startled and then scoffed in disgust. “Hey, no one asked you to ‘defend my honor’ you cheese-head! That was all you Vinnie, I had nothing to do with it!”
“Oh there she goes! Classic Jessie, doesn’t want to get in the mud with the rest of us, can’t be bothered, she might break a freakin’ nail!”
“Will you grow up!?” She roared back. “It wasn’t even his plan, Vinnie! It was mine! You knew that! I mean you went awfully hard at the guy—”
“He put you in danger!”
“I was already there!”
The retort from Jessie came out more forcefully than she had meant it to and it had clearly startled him a bit, his ears lowering ever so slightly. In that split moment of shock, she saw him as the little boy he had once been. Her tag-along of a little brother. Always seeking attention. Approval. Validation. Starving for it. And far more sensitive than he let on at times. “Vinnie…you are always putting your foot in your mouth. You don’t think before you speak you just blurt out whatever pops into your head at the moment and then—” she waved around helplessly. “—everyone else has to clean up the mess!”
“Not everyone.” Her brother answered, more flatly than she expected. He was looking at her harder now. “You certainly made sure you didn’t have to. Not for years. I may run my mouth, Jess, but you just flat out run!”
It stung. But it was true.
Jessie frowned sourly, shaking her head. “Well damn. Blew me out of the water too, I guess. Direct hit.” She nodded tearfully. “Can’t wait to see what kind of bomb you drop on Modo, bet that will be a good one—”
Vinnie bristled, on the defense again. “I just said the thing that nobody else was willing to say. If Throttle couldn’t handle it, then he shouldn’t have been dishing it out! And neither should you!”
“Enough!” Harley barked sternly, startling both siblings into silence. She looked between the pair, shaking her head. “Gods, it runs in the family apparently.”
Jessie looked offended, and then narrowed her eyes. “Look, there are things going on here that you don’t understand—”
Harley looked at the other woman plainly. “I understand well enough, honey.” And though her tone was even, there was absolutely zero room for argument. The statement carried weight and a warning, that she would not tolerate being talked down to. Not in her own fucking house. “Why don’t you go inside and take a breather? Bowie’s in there. He’ll make you a drink.”
Jessie frowned, but relented, sulking away back into the back door.
Vinnie almost laughed. It was rare for him to see the mechanic turn nurse use that authoritative, no-nonsense tone in his presence. But any childish enjoyment he might have gotten out of someone else being in the hot seat instantly died when she turned her gaze back on him. Blue and piercing.
“What exactly has gotten into you?” she demanded.
“Harley, don’t—”
“Oh no!” She cut in sharply, grabbing him by one the front of his t-shirt and poking him in the chest. “That may work on Stoker, but it doesn’t on me. What you said to Throttle was cruel, Vinnie. I think it’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. Especially directed at someone who loves you so much. So how do you explain that?”
Vinnie scoffed. Disgusted. But mostly with himself. “It was shitty, okay? I know that. I was…awful. He just…” he looked away from her and glared back towards the alley again. Waiting. “Things have just been…off with all of us lately. Off me with, especially. And I know he means well, but dammit, I’m not a dumb kid anymore! I’m not a foot solider, or a cadet! I don’t need Throttle Evander constantly looking after me! And I don’t need him treating my sister like she’s liability when it’s a goddamn miracle that she’s even here!” His voice was raised again, but it was no longer blind anger driving him. It was the true thorn in his side that was beginning to show.
“He’s had nothing but skepticism and doubt since she turned up, like she was an intrusion on things. And that pissed me off, okay! We got back here, and both of them had futures waiting for them! They got to go and pick up where they left off and me…” he deflated. The anger dying, something else rushing in and his voice tightened and cracked. “I left my future back on Earth. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
He looked down quickly, and Harley saw several small droplets hit the sand near his boots.
“Vinnie…”
“Why couldn’t he just be happy for me!? I finally had something to—I dunno—move forward with! But he couldn’t just admit that he was jealous. That Carbine dumped him, and he was the one who was down for once. Not me. For once I didn’t need him to prop me up.” His face twisted sourly, “And then Modo fuckin goes and starts making moon eyes at her and jeezus…I just lost it.”
He exhaled deeply, holding his head. Ashamed. Embarrassed. But no longer angry.
Harley moved a little closer again and put her arms around him, turning his face to look at her, though he tried to hide the damp trails on his cheeks. “That sure sounds like a lot to hold in.” she offered gently. “You ever think that the people who might need to hear that are the same ones you’re mad at?”
Vinnie sighed, and nodded. “I know. But we’re guys, we don’t…talk about this shit.”
“Bullshit.” She corrected. “You, Mr. Macho Mouse, just get too in your head. Throttle and Modo will always listen. They love you.”
He nodded and looked back towards the alley again. “Man, what the hell is takin him so long?”
Here Harley looked confused. “Honey,” she said gently, but seriously. “If you think he’s just gonna come rolling back in here, I think you’re being too optimistic.”
“Why? We had a fight, it’s not—”
“Vinnie. You know it was more than that.”
He did. And the worry was really beginning to settle in now. The look on Throttle’s face really began to settle into clarity for him. The surprise and hurt there. And for the first time, without the blinders provided by his anger, he really thought about what he had said. The implication of it.
He had brought up Throttle’s past bad decisions and misjudgment of character to prove the point that he wasn’t always right about people. He had said that he was jealous to make a similar point. But the greater context had been lost on him in the heat of the moment.
Now it was glaring at him. Blooming and terrible. The way one might look at an entrance wound and think it small, manageable, not even bleeding all that much…until you saw the carnage created by the exit wound.
“What did I do?” he said more to himself than anyone else.
Harley squeezed his arm lightly. “If you broke something, hot shot, the only thing you can do is try to fix it.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Try anyway.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Be the mouse I know you are. Go make this right.”
He nodded, kissed her forehead in return and then rushed towards Cherry. “Tell Jessie I’ll apologize when I get back!” he yelled back, gunning her engine and readying to speed off.
“You can tell it to my face!” Jessie’s voice called back.
She came back out the door then, rushing past Harley and making a bee-line for her own bike.
“What are you--?”
“How much bigger of a lead do you want Stoker and Modo to get on us huh?” she asked. “Come on. Lets go find your bro.”
Vinnie didn’t argue, nodding in agreement and then turning in a hurry, speeding away with his sister hot on his tail.
Harley stood in the yard and listened until the sound of them had nearly died away all together before Bowie came and joined her in the yard, slipping his arm around her waist. “So uh…did I miss something?”
***
There were few places in the city Vinnie thought Throttle might run to. He knew his bro well enough that when something really got under his skin, all he wanted was space, and being in the heart of Brimstone wasn’t going to offer that.
Instead they had raced towards the trailer, expecting maybe he had return to their most recent crash pad to regroup. But there was no sign of him there either.
Vinnie’s stomach began to pinch in growing anxiety. There was no more self-soothing lie that he and his bro had just had an argument, or even a fight. He began to fear that he had finally found Throttle’s breaking point. Something Vinnie had comfortably believed for decades did not exist. His bros were the most steadfast thing in his life. Other things came and went. But they were always there, no matter the squalls. The idea that this time could be different ignited a fear in him that he only experienced in the heat of battle.
“Should we check the Mavericks?” Jessie offered.
“No…he’s not there, or Sweep or one of them would have let us know.” He explained. He looked around helplessly, lost. “Where the hell did he go?”
“Doesn’t he have his own place somewhere?” she asked.
“No…we usually crash with Stoke or Mama. None of us really have a permanent place ‘cept the farm. Only came here recently and that was a fluke…”
Jessie blinked. “Are you three just…bumming around most of the time then?”
“Hey, we like to go where the wind takes us.” Vinnie replied. “We like the free-wheeling, hard riding lifestyle of the open road. And having to pay rent puts a big kink in that.”
Jessie rolled her eyes and then looked towards the canyon and the desert beyond, her own anxiety growing. Rod was still out there, somewhere, and had surely heard what had gone down in the city earlier. If he was aware that Throttle was involved in that, and they came upon him alone…
“We need to find him soon. If Rod—”
But before she could further express her concern, the sound of approaching bikes caught their attention. Both looked up in alert, hopeful that maybe their search was over. But the pair of motorcycles racing towards them did not include Lady or her rider.
Instead, Modo and Stoker came racing up, meeting at them at the intersection of road in front of the trailer’s lot.
“Where’s Throttle?” Vinnie asked anxiously, looking at the other two, hoping they at least had news or some kind of lead.
“That’s the question of the hour, apparently.” Modo sighed. “We’ve been all over, thought we found tracks but it was a dead end. No sign of him.”
“Did he leave town?” Jessie asked. “How far could he have gone in such a short time?” She looked towards the desert beyond the canyon, knowing that even if they all split up, it might take them hours, possibly even days to find the other mouse if he was truly set on disappearing.
Modo shook his head, “I can’t see him doing that. Not with everything going on.”
Stoker looked back at the city, “Maybe he doubled back and we missed him somehow…?” His exasperation was growing. “This is bad baby bros. If you’ve got smugglers on your tail I don’t like the odds of them catching him on his own.”
Vinnie turned in his seat then, looking back at the trailer as if he remembered something.
“I know where he is.” He said suddenly, resolutely.
The others perked up in surprise. “What? Vinnie were just—” Jessie probed, but Modo shushed her gently. He realized Vinnie was not looking at the trailer itself, but beyond it. Back across the rolling hardpan and the waving prairie grass. Back towards the glutch.
“The cemetery.”
Vinnie nodded, turning Cherry in that direction. Modo and Jessie made to follow but the white furred mouse shook his head. “Hang back. I need to handle this.”
Modo looked reluctant, “I dunno, bro, I think I should be there in case—”
“I made this mess. I have to clean it up.” Vinnie said firmly. He gave his other bro a pleading look, needing him to understand. And luckily Modo seemed to.
“Alright. We’ll wait right here.” He relented.
Vinnie nodded, grateful and glanced to Stoker, who only gave him a small nod of approval. “Don’t fuck it up, kid.”
He coasted up to edge of the green place, spotting his missing bro almost immediately. He put Cherry into park and hesitated a moment, still feeling the vibration of her in his palms and thighs as her engine settled in silence.
The absence of her sound let the wind and its rustle through the short trees and tall grass filter to his ears. The graveyard seemed so small and yet felt so vast, holding a lost world within it’s foundations. That this was where his bro would seek solace hurt him, but didn’t surprise him. And perhaps that fact made the hurt worse.
Steeling himself, he stepped free from his ride and walked slowly through the short stone gate that closed off the hollowed place from the rest of the land.
Lady was sitting idling in the little pebbled and dusty trail between the stones, turning towards him almost expectantly. Her headlight flashed briefly at his approach and he patted her handlebar gently before turning to see where Throttle knelt in front of his family’s stone.
His back was to him, and the black-clad biker did not look up or turn towards him, saying nothing. Vinnie moved towards him cautiously until he stood behind him.
“Room for one more?”
The reply did not come immediately, the few seconds of silent delay so loud in its absence.
“Weird question to ask in a graveyard.”
The feeble attempt at a joke gave Vinnie some relief, but made him ache too. He sat down carefully beside the other mouse, delaying looking at him directly. It felt intrusive to do so. Like he needed to wait for permission.
“Throttle, listen—”
“You were right.” The other mouse cut him off, his words heavy and blunt. Falling like a rock between them.
Now Vinnie did look at him, brows raised. His bro looked…hollowed out. Exhausted. The kind of sad that Vinnie had seen on him more than once, and each time it felt worse.
“No. I wasn’t.” Vinnie tried to amend.
Throttle didn’t argue or try to counter the point. Instead he continued to stare fixedly at the names on the stone in front of him. “You know…when I was a kid, I used to imagine what it would have been like. If they had lived.”
Vinnie’s eyes moved to the names of the two deceased children, etched above the names of their parents. Gone before their lives had even gotten a chance to start.
“I used to play pretend that they were still here. Just off somewhere, doing something cool. And that they would come home any time now and tell me all about it. Maybe take me with them next time.” He swallowed hard. “But that went away pretty quickly…once I was old enough to really get it. To really understand. When I started figuring out why my mother would look at me sometimes and it was like…she was looking behind him. Past me. Through me. At these two holes that…I couldn’t fill.” His voice broke, cracked with the effort to back the sob trying to get out. “I was just a kid. How could I compete with that? How could I fix it? I-I couldn’t. I couldn’t make her stop crying for them. I couldn’t make my father stop chasing the ghosts of them. And in the end…” he glared at the headstone, eyes flooded and then looked sharply at Vinnie. Not angry, but completely at a loss. Defeated. “…in the end they chose ghosts over me. Both of them. I was right there. And they didn’t even see me.”
He hung his head again and tried to catch his breath.
Vinnie thought breathlessly about Rosie’s sickness and how it had stolen her mind. How slowly, surely, she had forgotten her loving and dutiful son, who staid by her side as long as he could. Who always promised to come back. Even when she had long forgotten his name.
And he thought of Axle. The Ranger he only knew through Stoker and his parents. Thought of his “accident” and how one night he had been there, and then not. How all the adults in his life had grown so quiet and hushed about it. And how Throttle had come to stay with the Mavericks, and by extension, him.
Sleepovers, and camp outs and long rides into the canyon. But at night, hearing his bro cry into his pillow. And not understanding why, not fully, until the night he had lost his own parents.
“And I guess when Jessie came back…it felt like you were doing the same thing. Choosing a ghost. And I was jealous. And scared.” He glanced at him again. “You and Modo are all I really have, you know? The only constant, I mean…without you, I’m lost.”
Vinnie felt his insides freeze.
None of this had been about what he had thought. He hadn’t been about control, or pride, or the unspoken competition between them. It had never been about who was right and who was wrong. Or making judgements about people that would turn around and bite you in the ass. It had been so much simpler.
Vinnie put his arms around his brother and pulled him in, hugging him hard. “I’m not going anywhere.” He assured. “What I said was absolute shit. And if you don’t punch me square in the mouth for it and make us even—” He huffed a ruefully little laugh and pressed his head against Throttle’s. “I’m so sorry.”
Throttle nodded but kept his eyes down. Vinnie’s fingers scratched lightly through the back of his hair, to the ponytail growing back there that was starting to curl in the humidity of the day. “I really, really didn’t mean what I said. I was mad and stupid. And I sure as hell didn’t think you’d take it…” he glanced around at the headstones, feeling almost dizzy by the way this had spiraled. “—like this. You know, you know I would never mean it like that…don’t you?”
Throttle shrugged. “I dunno. Like you said…we’ve been out of sorts since we came home. You and I have never fought like this. I’ve had worse fights with Modo.” He looked over his shoulder, as if expecting the big grey furred mouse to show himself then, to be standing at the edge, waiting for the all clear to enter. But Vinnie must have had him hang back.
Vinnie nodded. “ Yeah. I know it aint’ been easy. And I ain’t been the most uh…forthcoming with you and Modo about it. I miss Charlie so much and I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. I’m afraid I lost her.”
He stared out blankly across the horizon and Throttle squeezed his hand. Of course he did. Offering comfort even to the guy who had treated him so carelessly. “So getting Jess back…it felt like a win. One that I really needed. And when you pointed out the obvious issues I was…”
“Stubborn?”
“Yeah…”
“Butt-hurt?”
“Yeah…”
“An absolute asshole?”
Vinnie looked up at him, eyes meeting at last, both of them still teary-eyed and aching, but smirking now. They were bruised but not broken. “The worst. And you didn’t deserve that.” He nodded. “I love you bro.”
Throttle hugged him back hard. “I love you too, asshole.”
Vinnie squeezed him tighter and added more quietly, “You know I would never choose a ghost over you, don’t you?”
Throttle only nodded mutely, but it was a smaller gesture. Still insecure.
They parted, slowly gathering themselves and stood, dusting off the grass and the dirt. The skeleton flowers growing around the Evander’s grave waved softly in the breeze. Throttle glanced around, but realized Vinnie had come alone.
“Sorry for taking off.”
“Yeah…” Vinnie nodded. “Gotta admit, that was kinda scary. You never run off. Not like that.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels, trying to fidget away some of this intense vulnerability he was exposing. It was heavy and taxing on his system and he was ready for distraction. “One thing I can count on. You never leave. No matter the circumstance. You’re always right there. You’re like a pace car.”
Throttle snorted a laugh, still drying his own eyes. “Gee, thanks?”
“It’s good, I mean. Something to rely on.”
He glanced back across the fields, towards the trailer and the road beyond. “We better mosey on back. I’m sure Stoker’s not done chewing me out, and we still have a situation to handle.”
Throttle was about to speak something in reply, when a distant noise broke the relative calm of the graveyard. Sounds like lazor fire, and a short loud cry, followed by the distant roar of engines carried over to them on the wind.
Both Mice stood stock still for only a moment, then were on the move. “Jessie!” Vinnie gasped.
Throttle looked at him in renewed dismay, having hoped they had left Jessie safely with Stoker and the others.
Mounting their bikes the pair took off once more like streaks across the hardpan, racing back towards the trailer and the main road.
Coming along the ridge, no longer hidden by jagged outcroppings of rock, a new scene opened in front of them.
Stoker was on the ground beside his overturned bike. Modo was likewise, but moving, crawling towards the downed Freedom Fighter in state of dazed panic. Jessie’s bike was standing idly where she had left it, but there was no sign of the woman anywhere.
“BROS!”
Throttle was off Lady before she had come to a full stop, skidding in the dirt to reach the fallen pair, Vinnie right beside him.
“What happened?!”
Vinnie gripped Modo, checking him for injury as Throttle was beside Stoker, rolling him onto his back and checking for vitals. The older mouse was stunned, but breathing.
“They got the drop on us…Rod and his thugs. They must have followed us here, they were hiding out behind the ridge. Didn’t see them until it was too late.” He looked anxiously to Stoker. “Is he alright? They shot him in the back—"
Throttle nodded, shaken but relieved, propping Stoker’s head in his lap. “Just stunned. Are you hurt?”
Modo was shaking, fighting the effects of two direct hits with stunners that had numbed him and left his limbs struggling to coordinate and function. It would pass, but for the moment he was down and vulnerable. “I’ll be fine…but Jess—”
“Did they hurt her?! Where is she!?” Vinnie looked anxiously back at her bike, noting hers seemed to have been put purposefully into park, rather than forced to a stop like Lil’ Hoss and Stoker’s bike Bronco.
“She went with ‘im.” Modo replied mournfully, and Vinnie stared, wide-eyed. “They had a gun to my head, and she went with ‘im if they’d leave us alone. I told her not to—”
“Of course she went.” Throttle explained. “Big fella she wasn’t going to let you or Stoke get killed. Do you know where they went?”
“Looks like the tracks will be easy enough to follow.” Vinnie replied, nodding to the dark burned rubber tire marks, at least four or five of them, left on the road.
Stoker groaned softly, shaking off the affects of the stun shot. “Holy hell did someone kick me…?” he gasped, wincing.
Throttle pressed a hand to his chest to keep him still. “Easy, Stoke. They hit you hard, it’s gonna take a minute to wear off.”
His mentor winced and then squinted up at him, relieved to see he was alright. He reached up and patted his cheek lightly. “Well you showed up late to the party I guess…but at least you’re here. Help me up…”
Throttle did, and the older mouse coughed and hissed, his own limbs quivering, and looked anxiously to Modo, seeing that he too was down. His worry grew worse when he realized that instead of gaining a fifth, they were back to four mice. “Where’s Jessie?”
“Those smuggler scum got her.” Vinnie seethed, moving back towards Cherry. “And I’m about to make them wish they had never been born.”
“Vinnie, hold it! Charging after them is exactly what they want us to do! Jessie went with them to keep them from taking Modo and Stoker out, you don’t think they won’t be even more keen to blast the metal right off your mug?” Throttle exclaimed.
“If you’re expecting me to sit here and wait for Watchtower to drag their sorry asses her with reinforcements then—”
“No one said anything about that. This is personal. It gets handled personally.” Throttle amended, looping his arm around Stoker and pulling him to stand, as Modo struggled to do the same. Throttle wrapped his tail around his middle and steadied him, and he nodded gratefully, the last of the tremors already ebbing.
“Yeah, as in personally pounded through the pavement if they muss so much as a hair on her head!” Modo fumed, eye flaring in rage at the thought.
“I’m right with ya baby bros, we gotta use our heads on this one. These boys fight dirty.” Stoker grunted, still struggling to recover. Something that unnerved them all. “Besides, it’s not like they didn’t leave us a real clear trail of where they went.”
Vinnie squinted down the road where track steadily vanished. “Where the hell does that go? There’s nothing out that way except…” His eyes widened and immediately diverted to Throttle, recalling where the road
“I knew I felt something weird when we out there. Those bastards must have been hiding out there and followed us back here.” Modo muttered.
“What in the world where you bros doing out there?” Throttle asked.
“Looking for you.” Stoker sighed, settling back on his bike, who beeped and emitted a low indignant whine. “But we seem to be operating on a ‘one in one out’ rotation that’s gotta stop. Time to switch gears. If these guys are the bad news you say they are we can’t wait for back up. If Jessie is standing between them and something they want, it’s going to get ugly fast.”
“Well, if Rod and his little posse want to play dirty, then I say we play by their rules. Since they want to fuck around in my old stomping grounds, that gives me the home field advantage. I know every way in and out of that neighborhood. Ways those pistol-packing piss-ants would never think of.” Throttle growled.
“Now you’re taking my language!” Vinnie howled, pulling to the front, anxious to give chase.
Throttle looked cautiously back at his mentor. “Stoke, you stay here, catch your breath. We may need you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Go spring our girl.”
“ Modo, can you ride?”
Maverick had already righted Lil’ Hoss, reviving her eagerly, and the bike sounded as angry and dangerous as her rider currently was. “Way ahead of you, bro. Let’s ride!”
***
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