Categories > Cartoons > Biker Mice from Mars > I'm not Dead
My crack of sunlight
Modo and Vinnie returned an hour later, looking flustered.
"Well all seems quiet on the cheese front, we can't figure out where's they got Rimfire stashed--" Vinnie said without preamble as they came through the door. Suddenly he looked up in surprise to find that he was talking to no one.
"Hey!" he cried as Modo stepped up along side him. "Where is everyone?"
"Bros? Throttle?" Modo called into the empty scoreboard. Nothing in reply.
"Throttle's bike's gone...dammit!" Modo sighed in irritation. "What happened to sticking together?" he growled.
"Steady, big guy. I'm sure Throttle had good reason." Vinnie nodded. Truth was Throttle had been acting strangely since Stoker had arrived, and Vinnie really had no idea WHAT was on his normally rational bro's mind.
"Yeah, or maybe Limburger and his fish friends got to them too." Modo grumbled, his stomach all-ready in knots.
"Not likely. The place is too in tact for there to have been a struggle." Vinnie noted. It was then that the communicator on Modo's radio began to buzz loudly. "Speak of the devil..." Vinnie said.
"Bros! This is Throttle, come in!"
"We here ya bro, come back!" Modo answered.
The transmission was weak and somewhat scrambled. Throttle's voice crackled in and out. "I'm down town....ambushed...could use...please hurry!"
"Throttle! Throttle!" Modo yelled into the communicator, but the transmission was dead. He looked frantically at Vinnie. "We'd better get our tails in gear!"
*
The two Biker Mice sped silently down the back roads and alleys that lead to Limburger Tower, trying not to be seen by the citizens of Chicago. No need to attract unwanted attention.
The tower loomed, tall and grotesque in front of them, but there was no sign of good activity from within.
"Maybe we should have waited for Modo and Vinnie." Throttle mused as he glanced out at the tower.
"No time. You're sure this is Limburger we're dealing with. Lawerence Limburger?" Stoker asked.
"Positive." Throttle answered. "You know him from somewhere?" he asked.
"It seems like just a bad dream sometimes, but yes. Remember back on Mars, when we were all captured?"
"How could I forget?" Throttle nodded, faintly touching the rim of his field specs.
"Well, Limburger was one of the Plutarkians I had to deal with on the inside. He was nothing more than a flunky when I met him though. Apparently he's come up in the fish-food chain of command since then, eh?" Stoker nodded.
"Only slightly." Throttle smirked. Throttle answered, bringing up the zoom in lens on his helmet visor. He fixed it on the window that directly lead into Limburger's penthouse, the place of so many confrontations. It was dark and empty. He then set his sights on the roof, and could make out what appeared to be some movement.
"We need a better view." Throttle said, spotting a fire escape on the building to the left of them. He and Stoker darted it up silently as their bikes waited below.
"What do you see, bro?" Stoker asked, keeping a look out else where in case any of Limburger's men might be trying to sneak up on them.
Throttle squinted through the zoom lens. He could see the ship now, defiantly Plutarkian in origin, and very official looking. It bore the crest of the Plutarkian High Chairmen.
"Well, our guests from Phobos are still here. That may mean they haven't tried to transport Rimfire anywhere." Stoker said hopefully.
"Yeah, but Limburger wouldn't necessarily need a ship to that. Karbunkle's got a transporter." "Karbunkle, you say?" Stoker snorted. "My what strange company I find myself in..." he muttered.
Their noses altered them of the danger even before their sensitive hearing kicked in. Throttle clenched his fist, nuke-nucks activating and made to turn around, only to suddenly be belted across the face with a heavy metal bat. Throttle cried out with the shock of the blow and how quickly it had come, before he tumbled to the ground.
"Throttle!" Stoker shouted, his lazor out and pointed at Throttle's assailant. How Limburger's henchmen, normally clumsy dim-witted oafs like their leader Greasepit, had managed to sneak up on the two mice, Stoker couldn't fathom. But he suddenly found himself facing five heavily armed thugs who were more than ready to beat the shit out of them.
Stoker pistol whipped the thug who had hit Throttle, sending him spinning to the floor along side the tan mouse. He then turned and delivered a round-house kick to two others who approached him with chains, ready to choke him.
Three down, two to go. Two quick blast from his lazor pistol sent one goon yelping as Stoker struck him in the foot. He rounded on the final, only to receive a sharp pain that ripped through the biceps of his right arm.
Stoker yelped and clutched the wounded appendage, staring in the direction of the shot. It had not come from the goon, who was looking just as surprised as he was. It came instead from two roof tops away, from Limburger Tower.
One of the guards from the camp was holding a rifle in his hands, taking careful aim at the chocolate-furred mouse. "Son of a bitch!" Stoker snarled, cuffing the remaining goon across the jaw with his working arm before ducking out of the way as he grabbed Throttle up from the ground.
Stoker heaved Throttle's unconscious form over his shoulder as another shot thundered across the roof, this one above his head.
He looked up in horror as the man took aim again, but suddenly his vision was obscured by a flash of white and red, followed by a loud "Aoooowww!"
"Vinnie!" Stoker cried in relief.
The youngest of the Biker Mice darted in front of his two bros, he and his bike returning fire faster than the Plutarkian could get off a shot. Modo was close behind, arm canon raised.
"Modo, get them out of here, I'll cover you!" Vinnie shouted to his bro.
Throttle came to then, rubbing his head. "Unh...bros?" he murmured, looking around in a daze.
"Easy bro, we got ya." Modo nodded as Stoker helped him stand. Throttle whistled for Lady, who came racing to her master's call. The tan mouse climbed on, Stoker taking a seat behind him, still nursing his wound.
After a few more rounds of fire, followed by the wail of police sirens, Vinnie followed after them.
"Bros! What happened?" Vinnie gasped, coming up along side them.
"We went to scope out Limburger, see if they had plans to move Rimfire." Throttle answered. "We figured we'd run into you." he added.
"Yeah, well I guess our timing was a little off." Modo added, eyeing Stoker's wound. "How you holding up, coach?"
"I've had worse. Don't worry." Stoker nodded. Throttle put his hand over Stoker's in what he thought was a discrete movement, but Modo saw. The grey-furred mouse said nothing however.
"How the hell did they find you anyway? It seems no matter where we go they always know where to look!" Vinnie snapped irritably.
"Did you bros have trouble when you were out before?" Throttle asked.
"No, not a peep." Modo said.
This seemed to spark something in Throttle's mind. "They're tacking you." he said suddenly. The other three mice stared at him.
"What?" Vinnie asked.
Throttle looked back at Stoker. "Stoker, your vest, give it to me." he said then.
The chocolate-furred mouse blinked at him in confusion, still nursing his bleeding shoulder. "You out of your mind?" he asked.
"Trust me." Throttle insisted. Stoker did as instructed. Throttle took the vest, examined it quickly, and then removed Stoker's medal. "You were bugged. That's how they found us." Throttle answered.
"Aw man!!" Vinnie hissed, pounding his fist on his bike, which beeped angrily in protest. He smoothed his hand over it to apologize.
"Fuck...I should have realized that." Stoker sighed bitterly.
"Not your fault. Probably planted on you when you were still prisoner. Come on, we gotta get that wound taken care of." he said.
Charlie was standing outside waiting for them when they arrived.
"What happened?!" she cried when she saw Stoker being supported by Throttle.
"Plutarkians two, Biker Mice zero, that's what." Vinnie grumbled bitterly. Throttle ignored his younger bro's rant as he eased Stoker down on one of Charlie's old beat-up recliners as Modo dashed to the bathroom to retrieve some supplies. Charlie noticed that Throttle now had a growing welt above his right eye. "What happened to you?" she asked.
"Goon got the drop on me." Throttle admitted. "Guess it hasn't been my week, huh?" he shrugged. Modo came back into the room then, holding an ice pack, which he handed to Throttle, a pair of tweezers, a bottle of peroxide and the first aid kit.
"You sure the bullet's still in there, Stoker?" Modo asked, bending down next to his bro and dabbing at the open wound with the peroxide.
Stoker muffled a shriek of pain with a groan and dug his fingers into the arm of the chair. "Yeah...I'm really sure. Just do it quick bro, that peroxide burns!"
Modo cleaned away as much of the clotting blood as he could with a swab from the kit and then doused the tweezers in the peroxide. "Brace yourself, bro. This is gonna hurt." Modo sighed as he dug into the wound.
Stoker spasmed with pain as the grey-furred mouse plunged into his open wound and muffled another shout of pain. Modo gritted his own teeth as he tried to finish the job as quickly and cleanly as possible. Luckily, the bullet wasn't lodged too deeply with in the muscle and Modo had it out with a matter of seconds.
Charlie watched the whole procedure half nauseated, half fascinated. She often forgot that her rough-and tumble companions, who usually behave like over-grown kids, had suffered more than they often let on. It was obvious by the way they went through the motions, that this sort of thing had happened before. The idea of it made her shiver.
Stoker panted heavily as Modo began to bind the wound. "Thanks, bro." the brown mouse breathed.
"Take two aspirin and call me in the morning." Modo nodded, patting him on the back.
"Well baby bros," Stoker sighed defeatedly. "I let you down again. I'm sorry."
"Just give it up, old man," Vinnie muttered. "I knew you were washed up, but when you put me and bros in danger..."
Throttle suddenly stepped in front of Vinnie, obscuring his view of Stoker. The look across Throttle's face was a dangerous one. "Enough, Vincent." he warned.
"Excuse me?" the white-furred mouse questioned. "He about got you killed and you think I'm just gonna pretend not to notice--?"
"No one asked you to watch my back." Throttle snapped. The look in his eyes was icy.
Vinnie blinked, his mouth falling open slightly at this statement. Even Modo and Charlie were dumb-struck.
"Ooooh." Vinnie said finally. "I see." he snapped. "From now on pretty boy, you can watch your own damn ass. I'm done." he said, stepping aside and walking out of the room. Charlie went after him.
For a long moment no one said anything.
"Bro, I can talk to you for a moment?" Modo asked, nodding for Throttle to accompany him to the kitchen. The tan furred mouse followed, not anticipating what was coming next.
"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Modo asked when they were alone.
"I didn't mean it Modo, I'm just---" Throttle began, but Modo interrupted him.
"I know you didn't mean it. And when Vinnie calms down, he'll realize it too. Doesn't excuse you, however. What the hell is the matter with you lately?" he asked.
Throttle opened his mouth to reply, and then thought better of it, remaining silent. Modo fixed him with a knowing look. "It's Stoker, isn't it?"
Throttle glanced over at him carefully. "What about him?"
Modo rolled his single eye. "Please. Don't give me that. There's something going on with you two, I'd bet my good arm on it." he said firmly.
Throttle looked almost too embarrassed to speak. The fact that Modo had gotten wind of something going on before even he and Stoker had figured out "what" exactly was going on with them, made him feel terrible.
"I...I don't know what to say." he said at length.
"It's none of our business." Modo answered, making the other mouse stare at him again. "If there's anything between you and Stoke or not. But you are part of this team, and you're our bro. You should know better than to think we wouldn't understand."
Throttle smiled, then stood up and hugged his big bro hard. "Thanks, Modo. That means a lot to me."
Modo gave him a good squeeze and patted his back. "Hey, what are bros for?" he asked.
"What are we gonna do about Vinnie?" Throttle asked.
Modo sighed deeply. "Let him go for a bit. No good talking to him when he's like this."
"Ahem."
Both Mice turned to see Stoker leaning in the doorway. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything." he said. He held up his medal, "I think I have a plan to get your nephew back, Modo." he said.
Modo and Throttle grinned.
*
They would attack first thing in the morning. For now tempers were too high and emotions to strong to focus on an attack. They would have to sleep on it.
Modo, who couldn't sleep, decided to stay out, trying to clear his head and find a way to keep an eye on Rimfire. Vincent, of course, staid with Charlie.
Throttle and Stoker found themselves alone in the scoreboard. The chocolate-furred mouse was curled up on the sofa-bed again, not sleeping, but not moving either. He seemed to be lost somewhere in his mind.
As a matter of fact he was. Fighting against nightmares that came even when he was awake, against these new emotions he suddenly had towards Throttle, against the growing realization he was no longer cut out to be the man he'd always been.
These thoughts he was warring against were suddenly interrupted when he felt someone slip into bed next to him. Stoker jumped, startled, but Throttle put his arms around to him to calm him.
"Easy coach, just me..." he said softly.
"I thought I warned you not to sneak up on me like that..." Stoker grumbled.
"Sorry." Throttle said against his neck.
"You know you probably shouldn't be here." Stoker said at length. They had kissed, yes. Did that mean it had go further? Stoker wasn't sure if he could handle it.
"I know." Throttle answered softly. He did not move however.
The chocolate furred mouse rolled to face the tan one. He opened his arms and took Throttle into them. The tan mouse rested his head between the crook of Stoker's neck and shoulder. "I thought you'd feel better if someone were here with you."
Stoker stroked the younger mouse's hair and kissed his forehead. "I do. Thank you." he answered quietly. He felt so tired, but he knew sleep would only bring more things he'd rather not think about.
Throttle could feel his exhaustion as though it were a living thing. He stroked Stoker's back, fingers tracing along the scars left there. He felt burning anger with each discovery. "Oh Stoker..." he whimpered. "I'm so sorry."
Stoker shook his head. "Nothing you could have done, bro." he answered.
He was right, but it didn't make it okay.
Throttle lifted his head from his shoulder and looked Stoker in the eye. From the expression on his face, the chocolate-furred mouse knew what he wanted. He gladly obliged, craning his neck to kiss him again.
They clung to each other like a man clings to a raft in the ocean. They kept each other afloat. Throttle broke away from Stoker's mouth, leaving the other mouse panting, and trailed his tongue down along the length of Stoker's neck.
Stoker sighed heavily, trailing a hand down across Throttle's well-shaped abs, stopping at his thigh. Throttle's move slid from his neck to Stoker's collar-bone, to his chest, and would have been content to continue, until Stoker took his hands firmly. "No." he said.
The tan mouse looked up at his mentor. "Sorry, Stoke did I--?" he began.
"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just...just too tired for this. For now." he answered uncertainly. "Could we...could you just...?"
Throttle didn't need him to finish. He pulled the blankets around them as he wrapped his arms around his mentor, holding his forehead to forehead. "No problem, bro." he whispered.
Stoker stroked his cheek gratefully. "Love you, bro."
"Love you too." Throttle nodded.
"Stay with me?" Stoker asked.
"Always." he answered.
*
Limburger's latest scheme had been foiled.
Rimfire had been safely returned, and the guards from Phobos had been sent packing. The day had been saved, yet again.
Throttle and Stoker sat on the roof of the Scoreboard, which gave them a spectacular view of the smoldering remains of Limburger Tower. The two toasted each other, slamming their beer bottle's together.
"You were spectacular out there," Throttle nodded. "Now that's the Stoker I remember."
"Well, you weren't too shabby yourself, bro." Stoker grinned. "I'm so proud." he added, looking at him sincerely.
Throttle flushed, beaming with pride. He had never looked for more approval from anyone but Stoker.
"Thanks, bro."
Stoker leaned over, closing the gap between the two of them with a kiss. Throttle smiled against the other mouse's lips and slipped a hand behind Stoker's head to pull him closer. A few long lingering moments of bliss passed between the two of them before they looked up again.
"Damn you're a good kisser." Stoker chuckled, licking his lips. "I didn't teach you that." he winked.
"I guess some things you learn on your own." Throttle nodded. He kissed Stoker's cheek as they sat back. "So, Stoke..." the tan mouse began at length. "What is this exactly?"
Stoker stroked Throttle's arm as he thought. "I dunno, little bro. Not sure myself."
Throttle removed his specks thoughtfully, looking blindly across the sky-scape. "I just got out of a long, committed relationship. Carbine and I just couldn't handle the distance. The constant worrying about each other, the limited communication." he glanced in Stoker's direction. "Now I think I've gone and walked into the same set-up again."
"No." Stoker said firmly. Throttle returned his specks to his face. "Throttle, you and me are mice of the world. We've been through just about every damn crisis there is to go through. You and I know where we belong." he said. Throttle looked disheartened by this, but Stoker took his chin in his hand. "That's why you and I will be okay. No matter the storms, no matter what gets thrown in our path. You'll know where to find me."
"Going back to Mars, then?" Throttle asked quietly.
Stoker stroked his hair gently. "No rush. Figured I'd take some time to rest. After all, you're the best medicine I've got." he chuckled.
Throttle tackled him, careful of his wounded shoulder. Stoker blinked up at him as Throttle pinned him to the ground, kissing him hard.
Stoker wrapped his arms around Throttle, pulling him against him as they laid on the warm roof top. Stoker moaned gratefully as Throttle slid his tongue deep inside his mouth, playing with his. They clung onto each other, not just in lust, but for support, for something to cling to. Both felt helplessly out of control, and both masked it well.
Stoker came up for air, feeling hot and hard. He was shaking again, much to his chagrin. Throttle did not fail to notice. "Stoke, you okay?"
"Going a little fast for these old bones I guess." he shrugged. That feeling a shame was creeping over him again. Throttle nuzzled his neck with his muzzle, making Stoker sigh feverishly. "That's okay...we're bound to get interrupted in any case. Vinnie and Modo will be looking for us." he answered.
Stoker nodded and the two got to their feet. "Of course." he thrust his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide himself. Throttle was having a similar problem. They smirked at each other. "So...your bunk or mine?"
"Which ever squeaks less." Stoker winked.
I'm not Dead
There's always cracks
A crack of sunlight
A crack in the mirror
On your lips
It's the morning on a sun-set Friday
When all converstations twist
It's the fifth day of ice
on a new tattoo
But the ice should be on our heads
We only spun a web to catch ourselves
So we weren't left for dead
And I was never looking for approval
From anyone one but you
And though this journey's over
I'd go back if you asked me to
I'm not dead
Just floating
Right between the ink of your tattoo
And the belly of the beast we turned into
I'm not scared
Just changing
Right beyond the cigarret and the devilish smile
You're my crack of sunlight
You can do the math
A thousand ways
But you can't erase the fact
That others come
And others go
But you always come back
I'm always a flower under ground
always thirsty for summer rain
And just like the changing seasons
I know you'll be back again
I'm not dead
just floating
underneath the ink of my tattoo
I've tried to hide my scars from you
I'm not scared
Just changing
Right beyond the cigarett and the devlish smile
You're my crack of sunlight
I'm not dead just yet
(I'm not dead
I'm just floating
Doesn't matter where I'm going
I'll find you
Underneath the cuts and bruises
Find the game where no one loses
I'll find you)
I'm not dead
just floating
I'm not scared
just changing
You're my crack of sunlight.
Fini
(Before everyone goes "WHAT????!!!" Let me explain. I wrapped up this story ALOT faster than I thought I would. I releazied that placing it in the confines of an episode limited it's potential. So I'm ending this story, but ADDING that Throttle and Stoker's "adventures" will be continuing in a another fan-fic, sprung from this. I will give no details on it yet, only that it involves the new continuitie's story line. Meaning, I get to use my Catatonian characters! :)
Okay, that all settled? Good. Now lets leave our heroes to hump like bunnies...or mice or...whatever.
Modo and Vinnie returned an hour later, looking flustered.
"Well all seems quiet on the cheese front, we can't figure out where's they got Rimfire stashed--" Vinnie said without preamble as they came through the door. Suddenly he looked up in surprise to find that he was talking to no one.
"Hey!" he cried as Modo stepped up along side him. "Where is everyone?"
"Bros? Throttle?" Modo called into the empty scoreboard. Nothing in reply.
"Throttle's bike's gone...dammit!" Modo sighed in irritation. "What happened to sticking together?" he growled.
"Steady, big guy. I'm sure Throttle had good reason." Vinnie nodded. Truth was Throttle had been acting strangely since Stoker had arrived, and Vinnie really had no idea WHAT was on his normally rational bro's mind.
"Yeah, or maybe Limburger and his fish friends got to them too." Modo grumbled, his stomach all-ready in knots.
"Not likely. The place is too in tact for there to have been a struggle." Vinnie noted. It was then that the communicator on Modo's radio began to buzz loudly. "Speak of the devil..." Vinnie said.
"Bros! This is Throttle, come in!"
"We here ya bro, come back!" Modo answered.
The transmission was weak and somewhat scrambled. Throttle's voice crackled in and out. "I'm down town....ambushed...could use...please hurry!"
"Throttle! Throttle!" Modo yelled into the communicator, but the transmission was dead. He looked frantically at Vinnie. "We'd better get our tails in gear!"
*
The two Biker Mice sped silently down the back roads and alleys that lead to Limburger Tower, trying not to be seen by the citizens of Chicago. No need to attract unwanted attention.
The tower loomed, tall and grotesque in front of them, but there was no sign of good activity from within.
"Maybe we should have waited for Modo and Vinnie." Throttle mused as he glanced out at the tower.
"No time. You're sure this is Limburger we're dealing with. Lawerence Limburger?" Stoker asked.
"Positive." Throttle answered. "You know him from somewhere?" he asked.
"It seems like just a bad dream sometimes, but yes. Remember back on Mars, when we were all captured?"
"How could I forget?" Throttle nodded, faintly touching the rim of his field specs.
"Well, Limburger was one of the Plutarkians I had to deal with on the inside. He was nothing more than a flunky when I met him though. Apparently he's come up in the fish-food chain of command since then, eh?" Stoker nodded.
"Only slightly." Throttle smirked. Throttle answered, bringing up the zoom in lens on his helmet visor. He fixed it on the window that directly lead into Limburger's penthouse, the place of so many confrontations. It was dark and empty. He then set his sights on the roof, and could make out what appeared to be some movement.
"We need a better view." Throttle said, spotting a fire escape on the building to the left of them. He and Stoker darted it up silently as their bikes waited below.
"What do you see, bro?" Stoker asked, keeping a look out else where in case any of Limburger's men might be trying to sneak up on them.
Throttle squinted through the zoom lens. He could see the ship now, defiantly Plutarkian in origin, and very official looking. It bore the crest of the Plutarkian High Chairmen.
"Well, our guests from Phobos are still here. That may mean they haven't tried to transport Rimfire anywhere." Stoker said hopefully.
"Yeah, but Limburger wouldn't necessarily need a ship to that. Karbunkle's got a transporter." "Karbunkle, you say?" Stoker snorted. "My what strange company I find myself in..." he muttered.
Their noses altered them of the danger even before their sensitive hearing kicked in. Throttle clenched his fist, nuke-nucks activating and made to turn around, only to suddenly be belted across the face with a heavy metal bat. Throttle cried out with the shock of the blow and how quickly it had come, before he tumbled to the ground.
"Throttle!" Stoker shouted, his lazor out and pointed at Throttle's assailant. How Limburger's henchmen, normally clumsy dim-witted oafs like their leader Greasepit, had managed to sneak up on the two mice, Stoker couldn't fathom. But he suddenly found himself facing five heavily armed thugs who were more than ready to beat the shit out of them.
Stoker pistol whipped the thug who had hit Throttle, sending him spinning to the floor along side the tan mouse. He then turned and delivered a round-house kick to two others who approached him with chains, ready to choke him.
Three down, two to go. Two quick blast from his lazor pistol sent one goon yelping as Stoker struck him in the foot. He rounded on the final, only to receive a sharp pain that ripped through the biceps of his right arm.
Stoker yelped and clutched the wounded appendage, staring in the direction of the shot. It had not come from the goon, who was looking just as surprised as he was. It came instead from two roof tops away, from Limburger Tower.
One of the guards from the camp was holding a rifle in his hands, taking careful aim at the chocolate-furred mouse. "Son of a bitch!" Stoker snarled, cuffing the remaining goon across the jaw with his working arm before ducking out of the way as he grabbed Throttle up from the ground.
Stoker heaved Throttle's unconscious form over his shoulder as another shot thundered across the roof, this one above his head.
He looked up in horror as the man took aim again, but suddenly his vision was obscured by a flash of white and red, followed by a loud "Aoooowww!"
"Vinnie!" Stoker cried in relief.
The youngest of the Biker Mice darted in front of his two bros, he and his bike returning fire faster than the Plutarkian could get off a shot. Modo was close behind, arm canon raised.
"Modo, get them out of here, I'll cover you!" Vinnie shouted to his bro.
Throttle came to then, rubbing his head. "Unh...bros?" he murmured, looking around in a daze.
"Easy bro, we got ya." Modo nodded as Stoker helped him stand. Throttle whistled for Lady, who came racing to her master's call. The tan mouse climbed on, Stoker taking a seat behind him, still nursing his wound.
After a few more rounds of fire, followed by the wail of police sirens, Vinnie followed after them.
"Bros! What happened?" Vinnie gasped, coming up along side them.
"We went to scope out Limburger, see if they had plans to move Rimfire." Throttle answered. "We figured we'd run into you." he added.
"Yeah, well I guess our timing was a little off." Modo added, eyeing Stoker's wound. "How you holding up, coach?"
"I've had worse. Don't worry." Stoker nodded. Throttle put his hand over Stoker's in what he thought was a discrete movement, but Modo saw. The grey-furred mouse said nothing however.
"How the hell did they find you anyway? It seems no matter where we go they always know where to look!" Vinnie snapped irritably.
"Did you bros have trouble when you were out before?" Throttle asked.
"No, not a peep." Modo said.
This seemed to spark something in Throttle's mind. "They're tacking you." he said suddenly. The other three mice stared at him.
"What?" Vinnie asked.
Throttle looked back at Stoker. "Stoker, your vest, give it to me." he said then.
The chocolate-furred mouse blinked at him in confusion, still nursing his bleeding shoulder. "You out of your mind?" he asked.
"Trust me." Throttle insisted. Stoker did as instructed. Throttle took the vest, examined it quickly, and then removed Stoker's medal. "You were bugged. That's how they found us." Throttle answered.
"Aw man!!" Vinnie hissed, pounding his fist on his bike, which beeped angrily in protest. He smoothed his hand over it to apologize.
"Fuck...I should have realized that." Stoker sighed bitterly.
"Not your fault. Probably planted on you when you were still prisoner. Come on, we gotta get that wound taken care of." he said.
Charlie was standing outside waiting for them when they arrived.
"What happened?!" she cried when she saw Stoker being supported by Throttle.
"Plutarkians two, Biker Mice zero, that's what." Vinnie grumbled bitterly. Throttle ignored his younger bro's rant as he eased Stoker down on one of Charlie's old beat-up recliners as Modo dashed to the bathroom to retrieve some supplies. Charlie noticed that Throttle now had a growing welt above his right eye. "What happened to you?" she asked.
"Goon got the drop on me." Throttle admitted. "Guess it hasn't been my week, huh?" he shrugged. Modo came back into the room then, holding an ice pack, which he handed to Throttle, a pair of tweezers, a bottle of peroxide and the first aid kit.
"You sure the bullet's still in there, Stoker?" Modo asked, bending down next to his bro and dabbing at the open wound with the peroxide.
Stoker muffled a shriek of pain with a groan and dug his fingers into the arm of the chair. "Yeah...I'm really sure. Just do it quick bro, that peroxide burns!"
Modo cleaned away as much of the clotting blood as he could with a swab from the kit and then doused the tweezers in the peroxide. "Brace yourself, bro. This is gonna hurt." Modo sighed as he dug into the wound.
Stoker spasmed with pain as the grey-furred mouse plunged into his open wound and muffled another shout of pain. Modo gritted his own teeth as he tried to finish the job as quickly and cleanly as possible. Luckily, the bullet wasn't lodged too deeply with in the muscle and Modo had it out with a matter of seconds.
Charlie watched the whole procedure half nauseated, half fascinated. She often forgot that her rough-and tumble companions, who usually behave like over-grown kids, had suffered more than they often let on. It was obvious by the way they went through the motions, that this sort of thing had happened before. The idea of it made her shiver.
Stoker panted heavily as Modo began to bind the wound. "Thanks, bro." the brown mouse breathed.
"Take two aspirin and call me in the morning." Modo nodded, patting him on the back.
"Well baby bros," Stoker sighed defeatedly. "I let you down again. I'm sorry."
"Just give it up, old man," Vinnie muttered. "I knew you were washed up, but when you put me and bros in danger..."
Throttle suddenly stepped in front of Vinnie, obscuring his view of Stoker. The look across Throttle's face was a dangerous one. "Enough, Vincent." he warned.
"Excuse me?" the white-furred mouse questioned. "He about got you killed and you think I'm just gonna pretend not to notice--?"
"No one asked you to watch my back." Throttle snapped. The look in his eyes was icy.
Vinnie blinked, his mouth falling open slightly at this statement. Even Modo and Charlie were dumb-struck.
"Ooooh." Vinnie said finally. "I see." he snapped. "From now on pretty boy, you can watch your own damn ass. I'm done." he said, stepping aside and walking out of the room. Charlie went after him.
For a long moment no one said anything.
"Bro, I can talk to you for a moment?" Modo asked, nodding for Throttle to accompany him to the kitchen. The tan furred mouse followed, not anticipating what was coming next.
"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Modo asked when they were alone.
"I didn't mean it Modo, I'm just---" Throttle began, but Modo interrupted him.
"I know you didn't mean it. And when Vinnie calms down, he'll realize it too. Doesn't excuse you, however. What the hell is the matter with you lately?" he asked.
Throttle opened his mouth to reply, and then thought better of it, remaining silent. Modo fixed him with a knowing look. "It's Stoker, isn't it?"
Throttle glanced over at him carefully. "What about him?"
Modo rolled his single eye. "Please. Don't give me that. There's something going on with you two, I'd bet my good arm on it." he said firmly.
Throttle looked almost too embarrassed to speak. The fact that Modo had gotten wind of something going on before even he and Stoker had figured out "what" exactly was going on with them, made him feel terrible.
"I...I don't know what to say." he said at length.
"It's none of our business." Modo answered, making the other mouse stare at him again. "If there's anything between you and Stoke or not. But you are part of this team, and you're our bro. You should know better than to think we wouldn't understand."
Throttle smiled, then stood up and hugged his big bro hard. "Thanks, Modo. That means a lot to me."
Modo gave him a good squeeze and patted his back. "Hey, what are bros for?" he asked.
"What are we gonna do about Vinnie?" Throttle asked.
Modo sighed deeply. "Let him go for a bit. No good talking to him when he's like this."
"Ahem."
Both Mice turned to see Stoker leaning in the doorway. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything." he said. He held up his medal, "I think I have a plan to get your nephew back, Modo." he said.
Modo and Throttle grinned.
*
They would attack first thing in the morning. For now tempers were too high and emotions to strong to focus on an attack. They would have to sleep on it.
Modo, who couldn't sleep, decided to stay out, trying to clear his head and find a way to keep an eye on Rimfire. Vincent, of course, staid with Charlie.
Throttle and Stoker found themselves alone in the scoreboard. The chocolate-furred mouse was curled up on the sofa-bed again, not sleeping, but not moving either. He seemed to be lost somewhere in his mind.
As a matter of fact he was. Fighting against nightmares that came even when he was awake, against these new emotions he suddenly had towards Throttle, against the growing realization he was no longer cut out to be the man he'd always been.
These thoughts he was warring against were suddenly interrupted when he felt someone slip into bed next to him. Stoker jumped, startled, but Throttle put his arms around to him to calm him.
"Easy coach, just me..." he said softly.
"I thought I warned you not to sneak up on me like that..." Stoker grumbled.
"Sorry." Throttle said against his neck.
"You know you probably shouldn't be here." Stoker said at length. They had kissed, yes. Did that mean it had go further? Stoker wasn't sure if he could handle it.
"I know." Throttle answered softly. He did not move however.
The chocolate furred mouse rolled to face the tan one. He opened his arms and took Throttle into them. The tan mouse rested his head between the crook of Stoker's neck and shoulder. "I thought you'd feel better if someone were here with you."
Stoker stroked the younger mouse's hair and kissed his forehead. "I do. Thank you." he answered quietly. He felt so tired, but he knew sleep would only bring more things he'd rather not think about.
Throttle could feel his exhaustion as though it were a living thing. He stroked Stoker's back, fingers tracing along the scars left there. He felt burning anger with each discovery. "Oh Stoker..." he whimpered. "I'm so sorry."
Stoker shook his head. "Nothing you could have done, bro." he answered.
He was right, but it didn't make it okay.
Throttle lifted his head from his shoulder and looked Stoker in the eye. From the expression on his face, the chocolate-furred mouse knew what he wanted. He gladly obliged, craning his neck to kiss him again.
They clung to each other like a man clings to a raft in the ocean. They kept each other afloat. Throttle broke away from Stoker's mouth, leaving the other mouse panting, and trailed his tongue down along the length of Stoker's neck.
Stoker sighed heavily, trailing a hand down across Throttle's well-shaped abs, stopping at his thigh. Throttle's move slid from his neck to Stoker's collar-bone, to his chest, and would have been content to continue, until Stoker took his hands firmly. "No." he said.
The tan mouse looked up at his mentor. "Sorry, Stoke did I--?" he began.
"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just...just too tired for this. For now." he answered uncertainly. "Could we...could you just...?"
Throttle didn't need him to finish. He pulled the blankets around them as he wrapped his arms around his mentor, holding his forehead to forehead. "No problem, bro." he whispered.
Stoker stroked his cheek gratefully. "Love you, bro."
"Love you too." Throttle nodded.
"Stay with me?" Stoker asked.
"Always." he answered.
*
Limburger's latest scheme had been foiled.
Rimfire had been safely returned, and the guards from Phobos had been sent packing. The day had been saved, yet again.
Throttle and Stoker sat on the roof of the Scoreboard, which gave them a spectacular view of the smoldering remains of Limburger Tower. The two toasted each other, slamming their beer bottle's together.
"You were spectacular out there," Throttle nodded. "Now that's the Stoker I remember."
"Well, you weren't too shabby yourself, bro." Stoker grinned. "I'm so proud." he added, looking at him sincerely.
Throttle flushed, beaming with pride. He had never looked for more approval from anyone but Stoker.
"Thanks, bro."
Stoker leaned over, closing the gap between the two of them with a kiss. Throttle smiled against the other mouse's lips and slipped a hand behind Stoker's head to pull him closer. A few long lingering moments of bliss passed between the two of them before they looked up again.
"Damn you're a good kisser." Stoker chuckled, licking his lips. "I didn't teach you that." he winked.
"I guess some things you learn on your own." Throttle nodded. He kissed Stoker's cheek as they sat back. "So, Stoke..." the tan mouse began at length. "What is this exactly?"
Stoker stroked Throttle's arm as he thought. "I dunno, little bro. Not sure myself."
Throttle removed his specks thoughtfully, looking blindly across the sky-scape. "I just got out of a long, committed relationship. Carbine and I just couldn't handle the distance. The constant worrying about each other, the limited communication." he glanced in Stoker's direction. "Now I think I've gone and walked into the same set-up again."
"No." Stoker said firmly. Throttle returned his specks to his face. "Throttle, you and me are mice of the world. We've been through just about every damn crisis there is to go through. You and I know where we belong." he said. Throttle looked disheartened by this, but Stoker took his chin in his hand. "That's why you and I will be okay. No matter the storms, no matter what gets thrown in our path. You'll know where to find me."
"Going back to Mars, then?" Throttle asked quietly.
Stoker stroked his hair gently. "No rush. Figured I'd take some time to rest. After all, you're the best medicine I've got." he chuckled.
Throttle tackled him, careful of his wounded shoulder. Stoker blinked up at him as Throttle pinned him to the ground, kissing him hard.
Stoker wrapped his arms around Throttle, pulling him against him as they laid on the warm roof top. Stoker moaned gratefully as Throttle slid his tongue deep inside his mouth, playing with his. They clung onto each other, not just in lust, but for support, for something to cling to. Both felt helplessly out of control, and both masked it well.
Stoker came up for air, feeling hot and hard. He was shaking again, much to his chagrin. Throttle did not fail to notice. "Stoke, you okay?"
"Going a little fast for these old bones I guess." he shrugged. That feeling a shame was creeping over him again. Throttle nuzzled his neck with his muzzle, making Stoker sigh feverishly. "That's okay...we're bound to get interrupted in any case. Vinnie and Modo will be looking for us." he answered.
Stoker nodded and the two got to their feet. "Of course." he thrust his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide himself. Throttle was having a similar problem. They smirked at each other. "So...your bunk or mine?"
"Which ever squeaks less." Stoker winked.
I'm not Dead
There's always cracks
A crack of sunlight
A crack in the mirror
On your lips
It's the morning on a sun-set Friday
When all converstations twist
It's the fifth day of ice
on a new tattoo
But the ice should be on our heads
We only spun a web to catch ourselves
So we weren't left for dead
And I was never looking for approval
From anyone one but you
And though this journey's over
I'd go back if you asked me to
I'm not dead
Just floating
Right between the ink of your tattoo
And the belly of the beast we turned into
I'm not scared
Just changing
Right beyond the cigarret and the devilish smile
You're my crack of sunlight
You can do the math
A thousand ways
But you can't erase the fact
That others come
And others go
But you always come back
I'm always a flower under ground
always thirsty for summer rain
And just like the changing seasons
I know you'll be back again
I'm not dead
just floating
underneath the ink of my tattoo
I've tried to hide my scars from you
I'm not scared
Just changing
Right beyond the cigarett and the devlish smile
You're my crack of sunlight
I'm not dead just yet
(I'm not dead
I'm just floating
Doesn't matter where I'm going
I'll find you
Underneath the cuts and bruises
Find the game where no one loses
I'll find you)
I'm not dead
just floating
I'm not scared
just changing
You're my crack of sunlight.
Fini
(Before everyone goes "WHAT????!!!" Let me explain. I wrapped up this story ALOT faster than I thought I would. I releazied that placing it in the confines of an episode limited it's potential. So I'm ending this story, but ADDING that Throttle and Stoker's "adventures" will be continuing in a another fan-fic, sprung from this. I will give no details on it yet, only that it involves the new continuitie's story line. Meaning, I get to use my Catatonian characters! :)
Okay, that all settled? Good. Now lets leave our heroes to hump like bunnies...or mice or...whatever.
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