Categories > Cartoons > Biker Mice from Mars > Red Planet - Part Two: O Martian, Where Art Thou?

Episode Eight: Jailhouse Rock

by siriusfanatic 0 reviews

Modo and Vinnie go after Throttle and encounter someone they most definetly didn't expect!

Category: Biker Mice from Mars - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor, Parody - Published: 2007-01-10 - Updated: 2007-01-10 - 1572 words

Episode Eight: Jailhouse Rock

The rudimentary prison was dark and dank in the chilly autumn night, and it stank of Plutarkians and mildewed walls.
Throttle was lying on a bare cot, staring at the ceiling, shivering in the dark and the cold. Around him, half-a-dozen other Mice were lying like-wise. Where they had come from and what their names were, the young mouse didn't know. But they were all a good deal older than himself, and all of them lie in complete silence.
Throttle closed his eyes, one that was swollen painfully, and wished over and over again that this was a dream, and when he would open his eyes he'd be home safe and sound. It didn't work of course, but the young man couldn't help but give into the childish hope. Then suddenly something he caught him attention. A scent drifting in on the dank air in the room.
Throttle looked around as the scent was soon followed by the sounds of people creeping along the row of beds.
"Throttle?" a voice whispered in the dark.
"Bros!" Throttle whispered back.
Some of the other Mice were looking around now curiously as Throttle sat up in his cot. Vinnie was suddenly at his side, grinning in the dark. "Let's say we get the hell out of this joint, huh?" he asked.
Throttle grinned and then looked at the other Mice in the room, who were now all staring at him curiously.
"How did you guys get in here?" he hissed.
"We climbed in through a drain pipe. God this place smells!" Vinnie grunted.
"Where's Modo?" the tan mouse asked as Vinnie began to fumble with the chain that shackled his bro's ankle to the bedpost.
"Being the look out of course." The chain made a clank as it snapped. Throttle rubbed the raw skin around his ankle and stood up. "Okay, help me with the rest of these."
Vinnie raised an eyebrow. "Bro, I don't know..."
Throttle looked back at him. "Vinnie we cant' just leave them here! Come on, help me." He said as he motioned his bro to the bed next to his. The mouse that occupied it sat up, looking around nervously.
"You're gonna get killed, you stupid kids!" he hissed at them.
"Hey, do you want to be rescued or not?" Vinnie muttered.
It was nerve-racking work, but soon the rest of the inmates were freed of their chains and were now anxiously moving towards the grate that Vinnie had crawled through. The passage was long and narrow, only big enough for one mouse at a time to squeeze down.
Throttle went first, and then Vinnie ushered each of the other prisoners down little by little while he stood guard.
At the other end of the pipe, Modo stood in the dark, watching and waiting. Her heard movement in the pipe and then smiled when Throttle emerged head first.
"Need a hand?" Modo asked, pulling him out.
Throttle grinned and grunted at the same time. "Much obliged. There are others coming down..."
Modo nodded and made another cautious glance around the perimeter. So far they had gone unnoticed, but he didn't know for how much longer.
"How many?"
"Seven including Vinnie." Throttle answered.
Modo lifted his head to the wind, smelling Plutarkians everywhere but seeing none. It made him very nervous. He looked off to his right and saw a lot of movement in the distance, but none of it heading in their direction.
"Something's going on over there, behind that other building." he whispered to Throttle as the tan mouse helped the fourth of their escapes out of the tunnel.
"Can you see what's happening?" his friend asked.
Modo shook his head. "No...looks like just a bunch of 'em standing around..."
Within the next few minutes Vinnie finally emerged from the back hole of the pipe with a gasp. "Finally! Let's get out of here I can't take the smell anymore!" he hissed.
"Look there!" Throttle gasped suddenly, pointing in the direction that he and Modo had been observing for the past several minutes.
A pair of Plutarkians were marching a Mouse in a business suit between the two of them, heading towards the crowd that had gathered. Memories of newscast recalled his identity as one man...President Dorlin.
"What's the President doing here?" Modo gasped.
"Well he's not here for a picnic I'll tell you that much." Throttle muttered. Behind him one of the other mice spoke up; "They're going to execute him."
The boys looked at each other nervously. "What do we do?" Modo asked.
"Well we can't just let them kill him!" Throttle gasped. He turned to look to the other Mice for advice, only to find that they had all deserted them.
"So much for sticking together." Vinnie grunted. "Besides, I think they have the right idea. Get out while we still can."
"That's not right, bro. They may be cowards, but we sure is hell aren't." Modo chided him.
"Modo, that man sold us to the Plutarkians in the first place! He deserves whatever he gets!" Vinnie argued.
Throttle however, wasn't waiting to further debate the issue. He was moving slowly towards the building that obscured the crowd from their view, being ever so careful not be seen.
Curing under his breath, Vinnie and Modo followed. The trio crouched behind a row of discarded wood scrap, looking at the proceedings.
The Plutarkians, clearing illuminated by lanterns that were set about the sight on heavy wooden stakes, were gathered in a circle, staring at the two guards who had been escorting Dorlin marched the mouse into the center of the circle and forced him to his knees.
From the head of the circle another Plutarkian, wearing a dark purple and green robe stepped forward, holding an axe.
"They're gonna cut his head off!" Vinnie squeaked.
"We need a diversion!" Modo gasped.
Throttle looked around desperately for anything they could use, but there was nothing at their disposal aside from woodpile they were hiding behind and the rocks on the ground.
The tan mouse picked up one that was roughly the size of his fist and weighed it carefully in his hand and then chucked it head-long into the crowd, where it smashed into one of the lanterns.
There was a shout and collective murmur from the crowd as they looked for the source of the trouble. Modo and Vinnie began following their bro's example, chucking rocks into the crowd, smashing out the lights one by one.
"What's going on!?" The voice of the man in the purple robes shouted, obviously irritated.
With another tinkling of shattered glass, the last of the lights went out, dousing the ring of Plutarkians in darkness again.
"Find what the problem is!" the voice screamed again.
"Yes Regent Limburger!"
Vinnie made his move then, ducking and dodging the panicked fish as they passed him he made his way to where Dorlin was kneeling, waiting to die.
Vinnie put a hand over his mouth and then whispered in his ear. "Mr. President, come with me if you want to live." Secretly Vinnie smiled. He had always wanted to use that line.
"They're over here!" someone shouted then, and Vinnie realized he'd been spotted. He grabbed Dorlin by the hand and fled towards the space between two other bunkers, flanked by Throttle and Modo.
Around them the sounds of gun fire thundered through the dark as the fish shot blindly towards them, unable to detect them clearly in the darkness, and too disorganized to realize they should relight the lanterns.
Modo pulled something from his pocket then, something that appeared to be---yes it was--a Martian Mouse grenade.
"How long have you had that?!" Vinnie screeched.
Modo grinned. "I borrowed it from Stoke. I don't think he'll mind." He pulled the pin and chucked it over his shoulder.
Within a matter of minutes the ground behind them erupted with a huge explosion, and our heroes disappeared into the night, unscathed as the Plutarkians were left in chaos.


Axle was suddenly awakened in the middle of the night by a thud and a couple of whispers in the dark. He turned his head to see a figure heading towards him. It was too small and not smelly enough to be a Plutarkian. Then suddenly he recognized the scent of the person coming towards his bedside.
Without even turning on the light, Axle sat up and wrapped his arms around his eldest son and kissed his forehead. "Are you hurt? Are you alright?" he asked, holding his son's face between his hands, which was suddenly slick with tears.
"I'm fine dad...I...I'm fine." Throttle murmured, falling against his father's shoulder and hiding his face there.
"They're heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!" a loud, obnoxious voice said suddenly as the lights clicked on. Axle and Throttle looked up to see Cody and Stoker standing in the doorway, Stoker in his boxers and boots and Cody wearing rubber-ducky pajamas.
"Whooohoo! Pajama party!" Cody cheered.
Stoker shook his head. "Cody, hit the rock, don't smoke it." He chuckled. He smiled at Throttle. "I knew you'd turn up. Looks like you've had a pretty rough time, eh bro?" he asked, examining the boy's swollen eye and bloody lip.
Throttle shrugged. "Eh, I've had worse."
Stoker gave him a proud smile and nodded. "Well, it's just as well we're all up. Emergency midnight meeting, come on."
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