FicWad

Chapter Four: Fall of the Hammer

Clayborn and his pack hovered closely at their perimeter as they stood at the threshold of the city. While the Plutarkians went ahead, gutting it, they would watch for intruders. The attack had come swiftly, and the mice were ill prepared. Even if they had called for help, he doubted any would come.
The large dog's beady eyes watched the land around them for signs of movement, any indication something was moving towards them. The only disturbance was the shifting of the sand as the wind blew around them. He begrudgingly accepted the fact that he was little more than a look-out to those bloated pieces of cod, and was day dreaming of better things when his eyes noticed that the sand seemed to be shifting against the wind.
His dark eyes squinted against the wind, watching carefully. Still, he couldn't be sure. He turned to the man next to him, nodding his head. His comrade moved forward without a word, slinking towards the incline of the hill in front of them. He stalked about, moving slowly from one foot to the other, ears raised for the most minute sound, his muzzle lifted to the wind.
A long moment passed, and finally he turned back to his clansmen. "It's nothing!" he shouted. Clayborn was about to signal him back, when suddenly the Sand-Raider all but sunk into the sand beneath him and disappeared fully.
Startled, the Sand Raider's fur bristled as their ears stood erect on the tops of their heads. Clayborn, flanked by seven others moved towards where their comrade had been swallowed.
He tested the spot with the barrel of his gun, but could feel nothing but the sand shifting from side to side. It was certainly not the quality of sinking sand, and it made no sense at all that it could one moment be firm, and then swallow you whole.
As he probed a little further however, he felt a bit of resistance. Snarling just slightly, he pushed the gun a bit farther into the sand, but this time it stopped completely, as though caught on something. Clayborn snarled and started to pull backwards. It resisted at first, and then with a great grunt, it came free.
Right behind it, however, was one very smug looking Martian Mouse.
The Sand-Raider barely had time to yelp in surprise before Stoker's foot collided sharply with his muzzle, sending blood, spit, and teeth flying from his mouth as he tumbled backwards.
Stoker's foot came down on his chest, and he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. "Don't move if you value your life." The chocolate-furred mouse warned.
Clayborn glanced around him then, looking for help. What he saw instead was dozens of Martian Mice popping out of the sand, like flowers, mowing down the members of his clan. Few surrendered, the others were killed quickly.
Clayborn snarled back up at Stoker, took the whistle from around his neck-his alarm to the Plutarkians-and raised it to his split lips...
Stoker grabbed the whistle in his hand and gave it a forceful twist, tightening the chain around the dog's throat. He wheezed in shock as his windpipe closed. Stoker bent close to him, their eyes meeting. "Maybe you didn't understand me..." he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Clayborn choked, and then nodded carefully. Stoker yanked again, and the chain snapped from his neck and came free in Stoker's hand. The big dog lay there in the sand, rubbing his wounded throat.
The chocolate-furred mouse glanced behind him as the rest of the squadron climbed free from the hidden tunnels in the hillside, shaking the sand from themselves.
"Report!" he called.
Flare, ever at Stoker's beck-and-call trotted up to him. "That's the last of them, Stoke!"
The brown-furred mouse nodded, "Good, and the Plutarkians?" he asked.
"No idea we're here, sir."
Stoker nodded and turned to the last mouse standing upon the hill, and made a quick hand gesture to him. The mouse nodded, and disappeared over the crest. He was gone for only a moment, and then he reemerged, with a battalion of motorcycle riding bikers behind them. Axle was in the lead.
The grey mouse approached his old time friend, looking tense and anxious for the fight ahead of them. "How's the situation inside?" he asked, watching as the other Freedom Fighters bound and gagged their captives and tucked them inside the secrete tunnels they had moments before occupied.
"Relax, bro," Stoker smiled. He glanced towards the empty streets ahead of them that lead into the labyrinth of buildings. "Give your son a chance to make his move."


Throttle sat hunched on the floor, just below the second floor window of the Hammer City bank and loan office. He surveyed the lingering Plutarkian troops below him as they huddled together in the city square, waiting to make their next move.
They were unaware that while they had stormed what seemed an unprepared city that they were walking into a trap. The Freedom Fighters had gotten wind of their attack early, and had evacuated the citizens into bunkers below the city, something that had been designed in case of a natural disaster.
Throttle supposed that the Plutarkians counted as such.
He glanced to his right, where Cody was positioned with his sniper-riffle held steady. He glanced up very briefly at Throttle and winked, flexing his stiff fingers.
"Throttle, can you hear me?" Vinnie's voice crackled inside his helmet. The tan mouse tapped the side of his helmet. "Loud and clear. What's your status?"
"We're good to go as soon as you give the word!" Vinnie answered.
"Got it. Till then, keep your head down." Throttle answered. He stood up slowly, still careful that he remained out of view of the enemy below him. Across the room, Lady sat idly, ready for when the time came. Throttle crossed the room quickly and silently, and reached for one of her side mirrors. Angling it just so, it caught the sunlight, and bounced it back out window on his left. He repeated the process three times, and then waited.
A moment later, two more flashes of light that splashed against the darkened office wall answered him. Modo and the others, who were positioned in the building across the street, were ready as well.
He couldn't wait any longer, he decided, and so with a steadying breath he moved back towards his spot at the window. Cody looked up at him, eyebrows raised.
"Take 'im down." The tan mouse nodded.
Cody turned back to his crosshairs without a moment's hesitation. Throttle turned his attention once more out the window. There was the loud "crack!" of Cody's riffle, and the Plutarkian-a high ranking officer from the stripes on his uniform-fell dead where he stood only a second ago.
Panic immediately befell the Plutarkians. Weapons drawn, they began looking around frantically for the origin of the shot. But Cody had already pulled back, and was now lying flat on the floor, gun in hand.

Outside, the panic had escalated into a full-blown up-roar. From their perch in the building across the street, Modo and twelve other Freedom Fighters were now spitting fire into the crowd, destroying whatever sense of organization their enemy had as they scattered for cover.
There was no where for them to run however. Fleeing down the streets, they found themselves face to face with Vinnie, Lucas, and three-score of heavily armed Freedom Fighters.
"Hands up, scum fish!" Vinnie warned, feeling very excited as he raised Streak's two frontal lazor canons, and his special favorite, the rocket launcher from the rear.
Lucas a bit unnerved by the young mouse's open display of machismo, but he had no time to correct the situation. It might even be to their advantage. Plutarkians looked scared. Not scared enough, however.
"FIRE AT WILL!" The commander yelled. The fish dropped into position, the front lines stooping to one knee and firing first as the line formed behind them accordingly.
The mouse to Lucas's left let out a sharp scream as bullet struck through the visor of her helmet, and she went down, dead.
The bikers staggered under the abrupt fire from their enemies and were forced to drop back as six more of them dropped to the ground, dead.
"Oh yeah, well fuck you too!" Vinnie yelped, forgetting about his frontal attack system and going straight for the jugular. Streak's rocket sailed overhead and decimated the Plutarkians where they stood.
The rippling heat of the close-range blast knocked Vinnie from his bike, and left him stunned on the ground.
"Get up, get up!" Lucas barked at him, grabbing the boy's arm and hoisting him up. Vinnie blinked around, still feeling the sting from the blast. When he could focus, he could see the cause of Lucas's panic. While Vinnie had taken out the present threat, the others were not far behind, and were better prepared.
"GET UP AND RUN!" Lucas shouted. Vinnie lifted Streak and together they sped off, leaving the fallen behind.


With the occupying troops sufficiently in chaos, Modo moved from the high ground to the low ground. Riding Lil' Hoss fast and hard, he cleared the way for the rest of his squad to make their way through the streets. He heard, rather than saw, the small explosion caused by Vinnie's rocket launcher. His gut was telling him to turn back, see what the trouble was, but then something else came up.
Just as he had turned around, he discovered an isolated group of mice, who must have been over-looked in the evacuation. "Get out of here!" Modo shouted to them.
The small group, comprised of four young males and older man, stared at him fearfully. "We don't know where to go!" one of the younger males yelled.
Modo looked back the way he had came and he realized he had to act quickly before the fighting spread further throughout the city. He grunted to himself in frustration. Vinnie was just going to have to wait. Lil' Hoss carried him over and once he saw the faces of the Mice, he was stunned to find them no older than he was. What were they still doing in the city? Anyone that had been captured and placed into camps was supposed to have evacuated a long time ago.
Explosions went off close by. Debris from one of the explosion slammed into a young man's face. He didn't even have to check. He was dead.
"Oh God!" shouted a young man, turning to him. "Oh God!"
"Shut up!" roared Modo. "He's dead! We need to move out of here!"
He turned and saw about twenty in-coming Plutarkians from down the street. Rage boiled up inside of him.
"RUN! NOW!" he screamed.
Lil' Hoss spun and zoomed forward. Weapons locked on and fired, lazors at work, shooting three Plutarkians dead. He didn't have time to care. He didn't want to care anymore. These - creatures - barbarians just killed a living person. Modo was tired of that.
As the Plutarkians started to overtake him, Lil' Hoss turned again and fired down the street. The three Martians had managed to get to cover.
Modo turned a corner . . . and nearly ran right into Throttle!
"Whoa!" yelped Throttle.
"You doing okay?" Modo questioned loudly.
"Yeah, but there are at least four dozen Plutarkian ground troops moving in from down the street! They're blowing up everything in sight!"
At just that moment, there was a mammoth explosion from down the street. Flaming glass and concrete came crashing down the street. Throttle and Modo stood in shock as another, smaller building went the same way across from it.
Suddenly, three huge crab-like tanks came crawling over the wreckage.
"What the fuck are those?" shouted Vinnie all of sudden, appearing behind them.
"Big trouble!" Modo responded.
Throttle looked down at the small target scope on his bike. Weapons locked onto the legs of the leading tank. Instinctively, lazor and missiles went flying from. Vinnie, surprised by Throttle's impulsiveness and not one to be out-matched, zoomed right behind, firing everything Streak had. Modo joined in the fray.
The tank got off a few shots, but the Biker Mice were so very in-tune with their bikes that it quite easy to dodge them. That and added with the Plutarkians lack of anticipating the amount of heat and smoke, gave the bros the advantage. Within minutes, the legs of the tank exploded. It collapsed. The second tank slammed right into it. They scrapped against each other and, very shortly thereafter, exploded.
The third and final walked forward, weapons a blaze. Throttle swerved hard to avoid the on-coming attack, and lost his balance. Skidding painfully across the pavement, he came to a stop, one leg pinned under his bike. The tank was still approaching, and fast.
Modo and Vinnie were occupied, and wouldn't be able to reach him in time, Throttle was sure. But the next moment, it didn't matter. Four other bikes came barreling down the street with a barrage of fire that halted the tank in it's tracks.
Axle stooped beside his son, lifting Lady into her proper up-right position. "Looks like you could use a hand," said the grey-furred male, smiling.
Throttle grunted as he got to his feet. "What was your first clue?"
Meanwhile, the other Freedom Fighters, Tawny, Oliver, and a black-furred mouse named Ford, had joined in Modo and Vinnie's combined effort to destroy the remaining tank. Their gun-fire scratches along the sides of the machine, but to no avail. Vinnie fired two of his last missiles, doing some minor damage to one of the energy cannons.
Throttle and his father joined their comrades as they pulled back, ducking behind the nearest building to regroup. "Fuck, that is one tough-skinned bastard!" Ford hissed bitterly.
"No shit," Tawny grunted, revving her bike. "Anyone got any bright ideas?"
"Actually..." Modo paused. His bros looked up at him curiously. "I do have these fun little toys." He pulled two very small discs from one of the pockets of his vest. "Mini grenades with an adhesive back."
Vinnie grinned. "Dude that is awesome! Where did you get those?" he gasped.
"Found them on a dead guy a while back." Modo said grimly. "'Waste not, want not' as my mama always says."
"Modo, you're brilliant." Throttle grinned. The building rumbled and shook with canon fire as the tank sought them out. They ducked back further as the glass in the windows above them shattered with the force of the blast.
"What's in your head, boy?" Ford asked curiously.
Throttle plucked one of the tiny discs from Modo's palm. "These are small enough to fit right inside the barrels of the tank's canon. If it detonates inside, it'll blow the thing apart from the inside out."
"Yeah, but how can we get close enough to do that?" Tawny asked. "I don't fancy the idea of having my head removed in the process."
Throttle looked to Vinnie. "What do you say, bro?"
Vinnie's face split with a wide grin. "I never thought you'd ask, bro."
Axle opened his mouth as if to protest, but then close it quickly. He nodded, and then looked to the others. "Lets give him the distraction he needs then, right bros?"
"Right!"
They split into three groups. Axle and Ford went to the right of the building, and Oliver and Tawny to the left. With enemies emerging from both sides, the tank had a hard time picking a target. And it was completely unprepared for the assault that came from above.
Vincent Van Wham landed directly on top of the tank, wheels squealing. He made for the left-side canon first, tossing the disc into the opening. It went in without a hitch, and the young mouse turned to finish the job with the right canon.
But at that moment, the hatch opened, and one very pissed-off looking Plutarkian reared his ugly head. "Get off of there you stupid rodent!" he hissed, firing at Vinnie with his hand gun.
Vinnie threw the disc, but in his attempt to avoid being shot, miscalculated his aim. The disc went wide, and detonated as it struck the tank's thick tread. Vinnie found himself being tossed into the air as the vehicle flipped over onto it's side, smoke and debris flying through the air.
Vinnie was lucky, however, Modo was there to catch him. "Are you alright?!" the big grey mouse yelped as he set him down.
"Fine but---" Vinnie began. Streak was lying on the ground close by, having sustained some minor damage. "Dammit! I just had her detailed!"
But, at that moment, the other disc inside the canon blew as well, and the whole mess went up in a huge fire-ball.
"Not quite what I planned," Throttle noted as he rode up next to his bros.
"Always leave room for improvisation." Vinnie nodded, still feeling a bit woozy from his last close-call that day.
"Boys! This way!" Axle called from across the alley where the others were waiting. They could see beyond the other mice and down the street, that another group of Freedom Fighters were being heavily beset by more Plutarkian ground troops.
"A mouse's work is never done." Modo grunted as he rode to join them, while Throttle waited for Vinnie to catch up.


Stoker and Cody found themselves back to back, working in a slow circle through the throng of ground troops. It was too crowded to ride, leaving no room to maneuver, and so they had been forced to take the enemy at good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat.
They were running low on bullets, and even lower on energy. Stoker had reached that point where he was beyond exhaustion, and running purely on rage. When his gun clicked loudly, announcing his last bullet had been fired, he instead smashed the object against the Plutarkian's forehead, and watched as he fell backwards, pulling down two of his friends.
Cody turned his head to congratulate his friend, when something blind-sided him and knocked him forward. Two arms wrapped themselves around his neck and tried to both strangle him and snap his neck at the same time. This was no Plutarkian that had jumped him, but a Rat. Cody grunted and threw his arms back, grabbing at the Rat's ears and yanking forward with everything he had. It resulted in the two of them flipping, with the Rat landing first, Cody on top of him.
Both men rolled away, winded by the hit, but the Rat was now struggling with a knife from his belt. Cody was brushing the dirt from his eyes when it came at him again. The red-haired mouse managed to grab his wrist in time, and then snap it. The knife fell, and Cody wasted no time in slashing it across his enemy's throat.
"Stoker?!" Cody called, looking around in the chaos that surrounded him. The other mouse had disappeared from his sight, and this worried him. He got to his feet, avoiding the struggling and screaming masses around him as he tried to get his barrings again.
It took only a moment, but he caught sight of Stoker again. The chocolate-furred Freedom Fighter was on a fire-escape on the adjacent building, currently in a duel with another Plutarkian.
"Surrender and you don't have to die!" The fish warned, edging towards him as Stoker paused on the landing's edge.
"If there's one thing I hate more than a liar, it's a bad liar." He grunted.
The fish smirked. "You've run out of room, you've run out of ammo and I've got you cornered. What choice do you have?"
Stoker bared his teeth in both fear and frustration. The bastard did have a point. His eyes suddenly darted towards the retractable stair that hung just above the fish's head. It was a long shot...
Stoker leapt, much to the fish's surprise, right at him. But instead of coming down on him as he expected, he grabbed hold of the last rung on the stairs and swung forward, kicking the fish in the face. He stumbled backwards, falling against the railing. Stoker grabbed his discarded gun and rushed him again, pressing his forearm against his throat, the gun in his face.
The Plutarkian wasn't about to go down so easily. Stoker had him pinned, but he was not helpless. He grabbed for the gun again, forcing it upward. As the two struggled, they leaned more heavily on the rail and it creaked dangerously underneath them. And then, it broke.
Both fish and mouse found themselves suddenly in free-fall.
Stoker had the presence of mind to grab the broken railing and hold on for dear life, but the Plutarkian plummeted five floors to his death.
Stoker looked down breathlessly at the drop below him and scrambled to grab hold of the fire-escape again. But the worn railing was already giving way. Stoker made a desperate grab for the edge of the flooring...and missed.
The rail gave way with a squeak of rusted metal and Stoker saw the ground coming up all too quickly to greet him. And then something nearly ripped his arm from its socket.
He looked up, and saw Cody looking back at him as he leaned over the second floor railing, grinning. "I gotcha!" he cried. He pulled his friend up, and the two of them sat there for a moment, catching their breath.
"Thanks Cody...I owe you." Stoker grunted, rubbing his shoulder.
"That makes it what...a hundred times you owe me?" Cody grinned wiping the sweat off his forehead.
"More or less." Stoker smiled. He glanced over the railing at the dead fish below.
What he didn't know was that the third Plutarkian was Feta.



The Plutarkians were on the run at last. Despite the reservations of Lucas and Axle, the worth of the Biker Mice had been proved that day. Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie were soldiers, sure and true. They had won the name of Freedom Fighters in the aftermath of the victory.
Throttle, Modo, Vinnie, Alexis, Stoker, Cody, Tawny, Axle, and Lucas were all behind the old Literature Building, quietly celebrating, when there was a suddenly rumble. Oliver appeared then, rushing over to the group.
"Lucas! Stoker! The Army has just arrived!"
"Fantastic!" Stoker shouted, slapping his hips. "Just great!"
Stoker and the group followed Oliver over to a large empty parking lot. A few tanks and jeeps arrived as soldiers marched towards the Freedom Fighter-occupied university.
A tall, dusty brown mouse approached them. "Just what the hell is going on here?" asked Stoker to their new arrival.
"General Scabbard. You must be Stoker BlackRuby. A pleasure." Scabbard held out his hand, but Stoker just ignored it.
"Uh-huh. 'Cuse me."
"Listen, we're going to fortify this area immediately; to keep the Plutarkians from coming back."
"You should have done that in the first place," said Throttle. "This fight wasn't exactly easy."
Scabbard looked disdainfully at the young man addressing him, no more than a boy in his eyes. "What exactly are you accusing me of, young man?" asked the General.
Throttle grew stern. "Being a coward."
Modo and Vinnie both choked on their drinks. Throttle had never shown such unmitigated gull before.
"HEY! I do as I'm ordered, junior! You got a problem with that, you take it up with the boys in charge!"
Throttle turned to his companions. "Oh! There's a big surprise! An army general hiding behind his orders!" he mocked, before turning back to Scabbard. "Why don't you start fighting this war, huh? Instead of sitting on your tail!"
Stoker put a hand on his young protégé's shoulder then to silence him. "Easy there, bro. Go cool off, I'll handle this."
Throttle seemed like he was about to argue, but one warning look from Axle quieted his rage. He nodded and walked away, his friends following him.
Scabbard looked after them. "A bit young, aren't they?"
Stoker raised an eyebrow. "Where do you get off..." he started and the two quickly locked into a very heated, very long argument.

*

"Insulting a general isn't a very smart thing to do," Axle chided his son. "Even though he most certainly deserved it."
"Don't worry about me, Dad," Throttle responded. He paused though and looked his father in the eyes. It was quite apparent that Axle was still grieving the loss of his youngest son. Throttle sighed and shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I guess I just got all riled up. I know you don't want me to fight in this war and to be honest, I don't want to either. But it's something I feel like I need to do."
Axle took in the sight of his boy and nodded. He had grown so much from that boy he had known since before this happened. Despite still being in his teens, Throttle was more adult now than Axle had been at that age. But war ages people, and like it or not, Throttle was involved too deeply to get out.

*

"Excuse me," said a woman to Tawny. She was wheat-colored with wavy hair and wearing a nurse' uniform. "I'm Harley Parker. I'm with the volunteer nurses association. I'm hear to see Stoker BlackRuby?"
"Oh sure," Tawny replied. "Come with me. I'm Tawny by the way."
The pair walked up a hill from the parking lot to where Stoker was finishing an argument with General Scabbard.
"Stoker!"
Stoker came rushing over. "Tawny! Who's your friend?"
Tawny, surprised to hear him say that, turned to see Harley standing not too far away. She was staring at Stoker with wide, glazed eyes.
"Oh? This is Harley."
Suddenly hearing her name, Harley walked over and shook his hand. "Hi. Pleased to meet you."
Stoker nodded as he took her dainty hand in his. "Feeling mutual...darlin'."