Biker Mice From Mars Fan Fiction ❯ Of (Biker) Mice and (Wo)men ❯ Chapter Six ( Chapter 6 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter Six

Alley was rudely awakened by a loud crash. She glanced blearily at the alarm clock on the floor, noted it was only six in the morning, and briefly considered stuffing a pillow over her head and going back to sleep. Until a second crash startled her into nearly falling out of the bed. Grumbling, she crawled to her feet and stumbled her way to her broken door, shoving the box of books propping it closed out of the way.

“Charley, what's go—” Her words and feet both stumbled to a halt in front of the kitchen; she gaped at the sight of a large white body kneeling on the floor, mopping up a puddle of steaming coffee. She blinked, then blinked again. “Vinnie?”

“Mind your feet,” Throttle said from behind her, making her jump. “Vinnie dropped the coffee pot.”

"Twice," Modo put in with a chuckle.

"Aw, shaddup," Vinnie looked up to defend himself, but only managed a choked "Guh?" when he caught sight of Alley. His jaw remained open, dark pink eyes so wide that Alley wondered how they didn't fall right out of his head. She frowned at him, glanced over her shoulder to see Modo on the couch, facing the other direction with one hand covering his good eye. Throttle coughed into his fist and politely turned his gaze away, looking decidedly embarrassed.

She glanced down at herself, and her sleeping attire of tiny shorts and barely-there camisole. "Oh, for—It's not like I knew you three were still here! It's hot as hell in that room," she snapped.

"It sure is," Vinnie breathed, still ogling.

From behind her, Throttle slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head with an exasperated sigh.

Alley's jaw dropped as an indignant squeak escaped her mouth, her cheeks flushing dull pink. She fixed him with a haughty glare before turning on her heel and marching to her room … only to run headlong into a large body coming through the door from the stairs, stumbling into a furry chest as two hands came up to catch her by the arms and steady her. “Well, hello there,” the stranger chuckled softly, regarding her through amused, red-brown eyes.

She squeaked again and backpedaled, bumping the wall behind her. She gaped at the mouse in shock, taking in sandy brown fur and a mane of dark brown hair tied into a long tail. A green vest over a dingy gray T-shirt, tan cargo pants and army boots. A pair of holsters strapped to his thighs held wicked-looking guns. “Oh, good grief there are moreof you? Where did you comefrom? And how the hell did you get into the garage? The security’s on!”

“Pfft. You call that security?” the mouse scoffed. At her alarmed expression, he held up his hands placatingly. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m a friend.”

“Stoker!” Throttle stepped forward, gently pulling Alley out of the way as he clasped arms with his leader. “What’re you doin’ here? Did we miss your communication?”

“Nah,” the tan mouse chuckled. “Didn’t tell anyone I was coming. Thought I’d surprise you.” He glanced at Alley with a raised brow. “Looks like it worked. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Ah, this is Charley’s cousin, Alley,” Throttle explained. “Alley, General Stoker. He leads the Freedom Fighters on Mars. Which is where he’s supposed to be right now.” He cast the other mouse a questioning look. “Dissention in the ranks, Coach? They finally kick you out, eh?”

“Nope.” Stoker rubbed his chin. “Guess you could say, there’s been a recent shift in power. Doubt you punks’ve heard, but I stepped down.”

“What? Stoke, no!” Vinnie protested, appearing from the kitchen. His ears were drooping. “You can’t step down! Yer our leader! Who’s gonna keep the Fighters rallied with you gone?”

“Don’t make a fuss.” Stoker waved him off, chuckling. “I ain’t as young as I used to be. I’ll leave the heavy artillery to you punks. ‘Sides, I’ve got some personal projects I need to focus on. Can’t do that babysittin’ a bunch of mudpuppies like you!”

“Then who’s takin’ over?”

“Don’t worry. I left ‘em in good hands. GeneralCarbine is leadin’ the Freedom Fighters now.”

That seemed to surprise the mice even more. “So she made general, eh?” Throttle murmured. His voice held a soft, wistful note. “Always thought she might. How’s she holdin’ up? She has some pretty big shoes to fill.”

Stoker snorted. “Completely terrorizin’ the lot of ‘em, and enjoyin’ every minute. My niece is a tough nut to crack. But then, you already know that, eh, punk?”

Throttle chuckled. “She got a message for me?”

“As a matter of fact…” Stoker pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket and handed it to him with a wink. “Might wanna wait ‘til you’re alone to read it, yeah?”

Throttle cleared his throat as he pocketed the letter, amid snickers and kissy-face noises from both Vinnie and Modo. Alley’s brow furrowed as she watched, wondering at his pleased embarrassment, and then it clicked. “Oh, is Carbine … your wife?” she asked.

Her question was immediately met with uproarious laughter from the peanut gallery. Throttle’s glasses slid down his nose as he sputtered. “No, no, nothing like that!” he yelped, but a guffawing Modo threw a heavy arm around his shoulders.

“She might as well be, though! Them two’ve been attached at the hip long as I’ve known ‘em!” he chortled.

“Yeah, yeah!” Vinnie howled. “Ya might as well call ‘im Mr. Carbine!”

Throttle growled in exasperation as he tried to wrestle himself out of Modo’s headlock. Alley wisely backed further down the hall before she ended up with an elbow in the face, nearly running into Charley as she came out of her room. “What’s all the racket?” The redhead yawned as she shrugged a ratty flannel robe on over her T-shirt and cut-off sweatpants.

“You have company.” Alley jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

“Hey, Beautiful!” Stoker called cheerfully, now holding both Throttle and Modo in a headlock under each arm.

“Stoker!” Charley’s face lit up. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Just arrived.”

“Like some breakfast?”

“You bet!”

Charley turned to her cousin. “Hey, Alley, think you could whip up—” She stopped, taking notice of the blonde’s appearance for the first time. "Don't tell me you went out there dressed like that," she groaned, running a hand over her face.

“Hey, it’s not like I knewwe were having aliens over for breakfast,” Alley snapped.

“It was late so I figured there was no point in sending them home. They just crashed in the living room. That happens a lot, just for future reference, so you might wanna watch how you dress around here."

“No shit!”

“Mouth, Alley.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Ah, don’t be too hard on her,” Stoker cut in. He gave Alley a teasing wink. “No need to gussy up on my account, honey. I like what you’re wearin’ just fine.”

Alley huffed and fled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Stoker raised a brow. “Somethin’ I said?”

“She only just met you hairy lummoxes, and she’s still gettin’ used to the idea of talking mice, so lay off the flirting, huh? Before ya scare her all the way back to Florida.” Charley gave his ear an exasperated tug as she passed. “Nice to see you, Stoke. Whatever you did to my security system to get in here, fixit. Vinnie! If you made another mess in my kitchen, you’d betterbe cleaning it up."

“Why you always gotta blame me first?”

“Because it’s usually your fault!”

~*~*~*~*~

Alley took her time getting ready, trying to delay leaving her sanctuary for as long as possible. At least until Charley's pained yelp caught her attention. She dropped her brush onto the dresser and scurried to the kitchen, where she found her cousin standing on one foot, using Stoker’s shoulder for support as she examined the bottom of the other; a long, curved shard of glass jutted from her heel.

“Eh, whoops. Guess I missed a spot,” Vinnie muttered, scratching his head as he surveyed the kitchen floor.

"Damn it, Vinnie," Charley snarled, "I know you mean well, but for the love of Pete stay out of my kitchen!"

Alley's jaw dropped when, without a word, Vinnie grabbed a dish towel, swept Charley into his arms, and carried her into the living room. She wasn’t the only surprised one; the other three mice glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, amused smiles twitching at their mouths.

Vinnie didn’t seem to notice the scrutiny; he deposited Charley’s startled form onto the couch and sat beside her, lifting her foot to calmly examine the wound. “You’re fine,” he snorted. “Ain’t gonna have to cut off your foot or anything. I’m gonna pull the glass out, okay?”

“If you get blood on my furniture, I’ll kick your ass,” Charley grumbled, looking decidedly embarrassed by the attention.

“Promises, promises.”

Alley frowned when Vinnie winked, and her cousin actually blushedin response. Now thatwas an odd reaction…

She jumped when a hand suddenly landed on her shoulder; Stoker smiled down at her, his dark eyes studying her face. “Got any medical supplies around here, honey?” he asked.

Alley looked over at Charley. “Do we?”

“Under the bathroom sink,” Charley grunted, grimacing as Vinnie probed around the wound, trying to assess the damage.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Vinnie teased, earning a light swat between the ears. He blotted the welling blood with the towel before it could drip onto the carpet. “Hold on. Count of three, I’m gonna yank.”

“One,” Charley counted, gritting her teeth and bracing herself. “Two-yeowch! Vinnie!”

Grinning, he held up the bloody glass, pressing the towel to her bleeding heel. “There now. That wasn’t so bad. Want a lollipop for being such a good patient?”

Charley glared at him, but her scowl slowly melted into a small grin as she delivered him another light swat, followed up by a teasing caress around the rim of his large ear. Now Vinniewas the one blushing. Alley could see it under his pale fur, and her jaw dropped as she took in the scene. She didn’t want to believe what she was seeing. Her cousin and a giant hairy alien were actually flirting?

“Save it for later, kiddies. We’re not done yet.” Stoker intercepted a large first aid kit from Modo, who’d gone to retrieve it from the bathroom. He knelt beside the couch to give Charley’s foot a cursory lookover. “Seems okay, but this is probably gonna need a few stitches.”

“There’re sterilized needles and thread in the kit,” Charley supplied.

“Well prepared, I see.”

“With these three lunkheads always comin’ in all banged up, gotta be ready for anything.”

Stoker chuckled and ripped open the plastic-covered suture needle.

“Wait a minute!” Alley hurried forward, alarmed. “Shouldn’t we take her to a hospital or something?”

“What for?” Vinnie asked, surprised.

“Well … because … because noneof you are doctors! How do you even know what you’re doing? You could just make things worse!”

“No need to worry, honey,” Stoker assured her. “We’ve all had experience in field medicine. If you get shot in the middle of a fight, there’s hardly time to drop what you’re doing and visit a facility, and there isn’t always a field medic on hand. On-site patch jobs are the only options available if you don’t wanna bleed to death.”

“Yeah, and if we can stitch an open wound in the middle of a battlefield, this ain’t nothin’in comparison,” Vinnie added.

“But this isn’t a battlefield,” Alley argued. “It’d be safer to just let me drive her to a doctor.”

“Alley, it’s okay,” Charley cut in, smiling up at her. “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to be patched up, especially after a skirmish with the Plutarkians. The guys know what they’re doing. I trust their abilities, okay?”

Alley wanted to protest some more, but she was clearly outnumbered. “Fine,” she huffed. “But when your leg rots and falls off from some infection, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” She turned to march to her room.

“Where ya goin’?” Vinnie called after her.

“I’m going to feed my rat!”

There was a startled silence. Stoker glanced at Charley with raised eyebrows. “She has a rat?”

~*~*~*~*~

Alley sat on the floor with her back against the bed, legs drawn up. Mercedes sat on her knee, nibbling pellets from the pile cupped in her open hand. A knock sounded on the bedroom door. “What?” she called, glancing behind her and scowling as Stoker’s shaggy head poked around the corner. “For future reference, ‘what’ does notmean ‘come in’,” she added archly.

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her mouth twisted at his refusal to take a hint. “You done butchering my cousin’s foot now?”

“Nope. Vinnie insisted on doin’ the butchering.”

“And you’re here because…?”

“Oh, I just wanted to get a look at this pet of yours.”

Her eyes widened as she scooped Mercedes off her knee and deposited her back in the cage, standing in front of it protectively. “You stay away from my rat!” she snapped.

“Relax, honey.” Stoker held up his hands placatingly. “I’m not planning to hurt your pet.” He approached slowly. “May I?”

She hesitated, then stepped slowly aside, watching as he knelt in front of the cage to examine the little animal racing frantically around inside it. “She’s kinda cute. For a rat,” he teased.

“You’re scaring her,” Alley accused.

“Nah, I think she’d rather take a bite outta me.” Stoker poked a finger through the wire, then yanked it back when Mercedes lunged for it. “Yep. Definitely a rat,” he snorted. “Gotta say, there’s something immensely satisfying about seein’ one behind bars.”

She glowered. “Rats tend to be highly territorial, especially toward other rodents. Guess it doesn’t matter what planet they’re from; they find a mouse invading their turf, they kill it.”

He slanted her an amused glance. “You realize you're not winnin’ your friend here any brownie points.”

An unexpected smile twitched Alley’s lips, and she pressed them together as much to hide it as to stifle the giggle that also tried to slip past. His expression softened. “Come on out and join us, honey. Throttle’s whippin’ us up some breakfast.”

She blinked. “Throttle can cook?”

“He’s a mouse of many talents.” As if to herald his words, the loud, metallic clatter of falling cookware crashed through the silence.

Alley raised an eyebrow.

“And cooking isn’t one of them,” he finished on a laugh.

“Alley Cat!” Charley bellowed. “Can you pleasecome out here and get these lunkheads out of my kitchen?”

“Alright, I’m comin’!” she yelled back. “Don’t get yer panties in a twist!” She turned to shoo Stoker out of her room, only to find him sprawled across the bed, arms crossed comfortably behind his head. He grinned unashamedly at her. “Cushy setup you’ve got here.”

She sighed heavily, rubbing the spot between her eyes, where a headache was steadily forming. “Do you mind? I’d rather not have hair all over my sheets, if it’s all the same to you.”

He smirked and sat up, then reached out to pluck a long, golden hair off her pillow, holding it up.

“Let me rephrase: I’d rather not have yourhair all over my sheets. Especially since it doesn’t look like you’ve washed it for awhile.”

“Ouch.” He stood with a grin, not offended in the least. “You don’t pull your punches, do you, princess?”

“What, you’re not man enough to handle a few hits?” Alley turned to stalk out of the room.

He followed, chuckling low in his throat, expression mischievous. “Honey, I’m probably more male than you’ve ever handled before."

She froze mid-step, sputtering. Searched for a comeback, but his brazen flirting had effectively knocked it clean out of her. "And I thought Vinnie was obnoxious," she muttered.

Stoker scoffed. "I taught that pup everything he knows!"

She leveled a narrow-eyed glare at him. "You realize you're not winningyourselfany brownie points, right?"

Stoker laughed heartily. "Give it time, honey. You’ll come around."

She turned to face him, eyes narrowed, hands fisted on her hips. “You know,” she began amiably, “I deal with self-obsessed assholes on a regular basis. Comes with being a woman, I suppose. I shouldn’t be too hard on them, though. Not their fault that when puberty hits, male brains tend to pack it in and take permanent retirement to the southern regions. Same phenomenon must occur in the Martian races, too.”

Stoker’s eyebrows shot up. From the couch, Charley quickly stifled a bark of laughter.

“The point is, I’ve heard it all before,” Alley continued. “And let me tell you, the guys who yelp the loudest?” She leaned in and stabbed a finger into Stoker’s chest, smirking up into his astonished face. “They’re usually the ones trying hardest to overcompensate for something.” With a smug flip of her hair, she turned and marched into the kitchen.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Vinnie and Modo gaped, unable to believe that their hero had just been given the dressing down of a lifetime. Throttle had disappeared; probably off somewhere to read his letter (but they’d definitely be filling him in on this event later). And Charley sat with her knees drawn up, head buried in her arms, shoulders shaking as she tried unsuccessfully to muffle her laughter.

Stoker stomped to the armchair and flopped into it. “Come up for air before you suffocate yourself,” he snorted.

She raised her head, face flushed and eyes dancing with laughter, completely unsympathetic. “So there’s actually one female in this universe who hasn’t immediately fallen for your overwhelming charm? Poor baby. You must be losing your touch,” she teased.

His mouth twitched, a smile trying to escape around his fixed scowl. “Bah. Go easy on an old mouse’s ego, would you?”

“I would, but I didtry to warn you, remember?”

The scowl melted, his typical good humor and just a touch of admiration taking its place as he watched Alley puttering around in the kitchen. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That you did, Charley-girl.”