It's WAR! Things change, Mice change, Rat's betray. But is there More to Mace than we know?
It's War, part 3. By: Whipblade
Biker Mice From Mars
Panting, Mace crawled up the embankment. His fur full of sand, his eyes
shone with mischief as he reached the top of the dune. Spotting the Freedom
Fighters returning from battle he smiled. "Perfect."
Grabbing a small handful of sand, he stuffed it in his mouth and swallowed.
Sputtering and coughing, he stumbled down the sand hill.
"Stok....Stok....Stoker..." He coughed trying to shout with the gravel
working in his throat.
"Stoker, look over there." Harley pointed towards the lone figure stumbling
towards them, waving arms and falling.
"On it." Throttle shouted his bike tires spinning up sand.
Mace fell to his knees. Looking up, he saw the bike stop. A helmet clad
mouse reached down. "Sto...."
"Hey bro." Throttle hopped off his bike and helped Mace stand. "Gees
Mace, you're a mess!"
"They... ambush..." Mace coughed.
"Here," Throttle opened his canteen and let Mace drink. The rusty furred
mouse gobbled the water like no tomorrow.
"Easy bro you'll choke." Throttle warned easing back the canteen.
"They... the Sand Raiders, attacked us, an Ambush. Flea's gone.
Lucas, everyone. I escaped by the skin of my teeth. There was five others
with me, but their injuries, the sandstorm...." Leaning against the tawny
Freedom Fighter Mace sobbed. "There was nothing..... nothing we could do.
We called for back up, we fought like hell......" He sniffled wiping his
nose on Throttle's green vest. "..Out gunned.."
Throttle wrapped his arms around his bro. "Hey, it's okay.... you're
Stoker skidded to a stop. "Throttle who..... MACE!" Stoker sat
stunned seeing the lone communications officer battered and weeping. "What
happened? Where's James?"
"Gone." Mace reply muffled by Throttle's chest.
Breathing in deep, Mace caught the musky scent of the tawny mouse holding
him. It was far from unpleasant. Wiping at his eyes, Mace turned to Stoker.
"I.. tried.... Stoker... I..."
"Easy bro." Stoker took a deep breath. "Let's get back to base first."
Throttle helped Mace onto his bike. The tawny mouse didn't seem to notice
the slight difference in the weight.
Dawning a spare helmet, Mace hung onto Throttle's middle. A smile on
The War rages on....