By: Axle

Vinnie stared at Axle as though he could run a twelve-inch steel spike right through her face. His mind returned to the days when his hatred for her knew no bounds, and his need for vengeance had driven him nearly over the edge more times than he cared to remember. Charley watched as his hand inched closer to his blaster and was about to say something when he burst out laughing, breaking the momentary silence that had descended upon the room.

"You expect us to believe that garbage, you stupid bitch? We all know you were in league with the stink-fishes when you disappeared. Why else would you have stayed gone so long. You gonna confess the truth, or you really expect us to believe that trash?" He leaned back in his chair, and rested his hand on the hilt of his blaster ready to fire as soon as the chance presented itself.

As he spoke, Modo’s mind clouded with fiery rage, and his eye glowed bright red. He rushed his cocky bro just as he was leaning back, slamming him against the wall and suspending him three feet above the ground by the throat. Vinnie struggled against Modo’s iron grip, trying desperately to free himself. But, Modo’s hand was not giving him a nanometer to move, much less to breath, and he was slowly losing air. Charley screamed, and Throttle jumped into action, trying in vain to pull Modo off Vinnie.

Adrenaline was rushing through the veins of every person in the room, leaving only one of them capable of rational thought, and acting calmly - Axle. She stood, moved Throttle aside, and forced Modo to let go of Vinnie with brute strength. "Modo, leave off. ‘S all right," she said once the situation was under control. "Vinnie’s got every right to be mad."

Modo surprised at her strength, moved further back until he collided with the opposite wall, ashamed that he had attacked his bro. Vinnie collapsed to the floor, coughing and clutching at his throat, unable to do anything more.

Axle turned so that she was standing directly over Vinnie, looking down on him. "Look, when it comes right down to it, I figured you’d all be mad. Wasn’t even sure you’d let me stay when ya figured out who I was." Vinnie looked up at her with hate burning in his eyes, but Axle continued, not even acknowledging the move. "I didn’t let nobody know what was going on, wasn’t there when Throttle needed me, knocked Modo out cold, and woulda killed Vinnie if my brother hadn’t stepped in. Way I see it, Vinnie’s the only one that gave me the greetin’ I deserved." She kneeled down so that she was looking directly into Vinnie’s eyes, but he avoided her gaze. "Be pissed as hell, myself. So, you see, big boy, I ain’t the least bit surprised at what you just pulled." Anger was written clearly in her eyes, but she modulated her voice, so that only the mouse looking at her face would know the truth.

Vinnie looked up, startled that she had known what he had been about to do. He assumed nobody had seen him going for his blaster. He met her eyes with a questioning glare, and she glanced towards his blaster, then back to his eyes with a smile. "You couldn’t have pulled it off, anyway," she whispered so that the others could not hear her. As she stood, she offered her hand to help him stand up, and spoke aloud again. "Look, I ain’t here to get old fights started back up. I ain’t askin' ya to forget, just give me another chance, man. We ain’t the same people we used to be." She glanced over her shoulder to Throttle and Modo, "…none of us are."

Vinnie did not even look at her, just slapped her hand away, and looked at the floor, shaking his head. He had known from the moment he met her that she was nothing but trouble. Modo’s attack was nothing he was unused to. An entire group of her friends had attacked him the first time they met. He said she asked them to do it just because she did not like the look of him. Later, when they were all Freedom Fighters, any time he said anything about her, Stoker, Throttle, Modo, or any number of her girlfriends would jump him for it. A few times, he had taken some pretty good knocks for it. The thing that he hated most about her was how easily she managed to convince everybody that he was lying. He had always had his suspicions about what she was really about. The way she lived disgusted him, especially the kind of people she spent her nights with. The way he saw it, no self-respecting Martian could act the way she did, and not be an enemy agent, or at the very least half-rat. Her sudden appearance after so many years only further asserted those beliefs for him. Nobody else had managed to survive so long as a Plutarkian captive, and no one had ever escaped with as few wounds as she had.

Nonetheless, now was not the time to bring any of that up. Vinnie knew he had to cool off before he could get his bros to listen to what he had to say, and that was something he could not do in her company. He knew he had to get out of there and figure out how to fix what she had managed to mess up in a matter of minutes. He stood, using the wall to steady his still shaky legs, and looked over Axle’s shoulder to meet Throttle’s eyes, "Sorry, bro."

Throttle kept his face steady, not willing to betray a modicum of the betrayal he was feeling from both his sister and his bro. The feud between Axle and Vinnie had torn him apart more than either of them seemed capable of realizing. He had taken every possible situation to try to solve the problem, or at least get them to talk it out with each other. But their stories were so conflicting that he was entirely unable to discern what had really happened, and they hated each other too much to stay in the same room for more than a few minutes, much less have a meaningful conversation with one another. All he could do now was allow Vinnie the room he needed to cool off, and get himself together. He hoped that once that was accomplished, the years would prove to have put enough distance between them and the incident to get them to talk it out, stop their feud, maybe even become friends. He met Vinnie’s eyes, willing to let his bro do whatever he needed to help see the end to this feud. "Yea, man. I know. Go."

When Vinnie walked out, Charley looked around the room, meeting the looks of each of the other Martians. Modo turned away, still ashamed of his earlier outburst. Throttle met her glance with cool confidence, as did Axle. The female Martian nodded almost imperceptibly, as though she knew the human was going to follow Vinnie, and turned to look out the small window above the sink. Charley stood, then went after Vinnie just as Axle turned away. She didn’t know what was going on, but had a sneaking suspicion that Vinnie knew something he wasn’t willing to talk about with the others just yet, and she wasn’t about to be left out of the loop this time. Besides, somebody had to make sure Vinnie did not go get himself into more trouble than he could handle.

Vinnie was sitting on his bike just outside the garage doors, waiting for her. He had hoped that Charley would follow, but had almost given up hope that she would the moment before she walked through the door. He smiled, pleased that this time somebody would listen to what he had to say. He extended a hand in invitation, and she jumped on the seat behind him and the two tore away from the garage in record time.

Vinnie raced through the streets of Chicago without his usual fanfare. But that by no means suggests that he wasn’t swerving through traffic at break-neck speeds, racing to avoid red lights, or ignoring road signs and other traffic signals, just that he did them with much less flamboyance than usual. However, it was still more than enough to make Charley second-guess her decision to follow him. Despite all the times she had ridden with him, all the stunts he had pulled while she was behind him, she was still frightened. She tightened her grip on his waist, and screamed for him to slow down, begged him to pay attention to where he was going, pleaded with him to think about what he was doing.

Never before had Vinnie ridden in silence, nor had he ignored her, and he had certainly never endangered the lives of citizens when riding. Nevertheless, today, everything was different. No matter how much Charley begged and pleaded, he refused to alter his driving. She realized that he either could not hear, or did not care to hear her, so she shut her mouth and did her best to hold on.

Once they left the crowded streets and drove into the city’s suburbs, Charley breathed a small sigh of relief, assuming that Vinnie would have to slow down now that the roads were more getting more narrow and crooked. However, her relief did not last long. He revved the throttle, and was suddenly moving faster than before. He did not even bother with following the streets anymore, going wherever his urges led. He swerved through front and back yards, over cars, hot-dogging all the way. Eventually though, he settled back onto the road, and slowed somewhat, having finally decided on a destination.

An hour after starting out Vinnie pulled off the main road and onto a little dirt path only ten miles outside Chicago city limits, but all the way across town from Charley’s garage. He stopped on a grassy hill overlooking a little lake. The area was totally serene. Birds chirping, and the sound of water rushing over the rocky shore signified the peace that Charley assumed the Martian male had been seeking.

Peace, though, was the farthest thing from his mind, he had been searching for a place to relieve his frustrations without destroying anything important. The city streets were the last place he could vent his anger. He had found this place shortly after landing on Earth, and had come here often when he needed a place to get control again. He was off his bike, and across the clearing before the roar of the engine had stopped echoing among the surrounding timbers. Pacing did nothing to ease his rattled nerves, so he ripped off his helmet, and started beating it against a tree. Bark flew in the air like so much sawdust in a paper mill as his assault continued.

The helmet could only withstand so much abuse, and he finally tossed the dented remains aside, and began pummeling the ageless oak with bare hands. Before long, the rough bark had ripped his knuckles, wood shards had become embedded in his hands, causing blood to paint them a gruesome shade of red, and splash over his otherwise white fur with each new strike. The pain only fueled his rage and he began ranting in his native tongue.

Charley stood in silent fear of the crazed mouse she thought she knew, as he battled the tree. She had seen anger before, even seen the guys really pissed, but this went beyond anything she had ever seen. She watched as the egotistical, yet lovable maniac pulled a Dr. Jeckel/Mr. Hyde, and scared the hell out of her. In fact, the change was so complete that Charley feared her friend might turn on her. She knew it was an irrational fear, but was unable to suppress it, and could bring herself to do nothing but stand back and pray that her fear was not realized.

Just as his screams died down, and his breathing became labored, a loud crack sounded, and the tree collapsed. Vinnie followed suit, falling to the cool grass, nearly exhausted from his tirade, his fur plastered to his skin with blood and sweat. It was at this point that Charley realized that she had been holding her breath. With a silent whoosh, she released her breath, and pulled off her own helmet. She wanted to comfort him, but still found herself unable to go to him for fear that his tirade had not truly ended. It was not until he walked over to the edge of the cliff that she found herself able to move again. Tentatively, she moved towards him, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Vinnie?" she asked in a near whisper.

He sighed loudly, and rubbed the back of his neck coating one of the few clean spots on his body with his viscous blood, coloring it a gruesome shade of red. He avoided looking at, or answering her as he walked over to his bike as he examined his hands. Once there, he retrieved a ratty piece of cloth, and wrapped his knuckles in a pitiful attempt to staunch the flow of blood. He looked up at Charley, and in his eyes she saw nothing of the mouse she knew, only a desperately lost male who needed comfort. She silently walked over, and pulled the emergency first aid kit she had stashed on his bike. Once she had finished bandaging his hands, she looked up into his eyes questioningly, and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"Sweetheart, you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout this. We’ll handle it. There’s no need for you to get caught up in all this."

"Vinnie, I can’t help ‘till I know what’s going on. Besides, I think I’ve gotta right to know. After all, she is stayin’ at my place, and you guys are a part of my family now. Family should talk, shouldn’t they?"

He nodded at her, "Yeah, sweetheart. But, I wish she wasn’t staying at your place. I don’t trust her." Then he motioned her to sit. "This could take a while." He leaned up against the defeated tree as he kneeled beside her and sighed loudly.

"I didn’t really meet her ‘till ten years after I’d joined up with Modo and Throttle. Throttle’d said a couple things about a sister, but always in the past tense, like she was dead or something. Never even told us her name or anything like that. There weren’t any pictures of her in his house, and his folks never mentioned her. Modo and I just figured it was because it hurt them too much to have reminders of her laying around.

"Then, one day, the chick just appears outta nowhere. There were pictures of her all over the place all of a sudden, and his folks talked about her all the time. I mean, neighbors and stuff showing up outta the blue ain’t something you think much of, people move around all the time. But, when your best bro suddenly gets an older sister…. well, you get it, I’m sure. Anyway, there was something about the way he talked about her after that worried me. But, I didn’t figure it out ‘till after I’d officially met her.

"Modo’d been talking about this chick for weeks, and he drug me and Throttle out to the tracks to meet her one day. He said he’d met her in his mechanics class. She was the star pupil; didn’t even need ta be in there from what I understood. I found out later that his mom had been taking care of her after she tried to kill herself a couple of months earlier, she stayed at his place a while after she healed up, and then just disappeared. He always was a sucker for the ladies, and he fell hard for that girl.

"Anyway, when we got to the track, Throttle nearly lost his cool when Modo introduced him to his own sister. ‘Throttle, Vinnie, meet the best biker babe this side of the galaxy.’" Vinnie chuckled slightly at the old memory, and yet the pained expression never left his face. "We had no clue the chick was his sister. She’d never even told Modo she had a brother. And, of course, we hadn’t seen no pictures of her, much less been told what her name was.

"Throttle started giving Modo a hard time, telling him their dad would bust him up good if he ever did her wrong. Axle looked at him real cold like all of a sudden, and asked him what made him think their dad cared about what somebody did to her. They got in an argument. She said something about lost profit for their folks, and that bike of hers nearly blew our ears out trying to drown out the last half of her sentence. She shut up real quick, gave him the evil eye, then drove off. Throttle apologized to me and Modo, then left without even trying to explain what had happened. I never found out what happened between them after that, either, but it musta been one heck of a fight from the way Throttle kept clammed up about it.

"That’s when I figured there was something big time wrong with her. I mean, Throttle never let anybody talk to him like that. He’s always been the leader. Nobody ever barked any kinda orders at him, not even his folks. I’d seen him go toe-to-toe with his dad over plenty of stuff, but my bro always came out on top. With her, it was different, though. She pulled that kinda thing on him all the time. It was almost like Throttle was trying to make up to her for something.

"Found out years later that he’d been trying to make up for what their folks had done to her. See, they always favored Throttle, even threw her out when he was born. She lived on the streets for years, and caused a lot of trouble for a lot of good mice. Everybody knew about their group, and nobody would cross them for fear of their own lives. Even the authorities were afraid to get involved. After a while, the government cracked down, and starting trying to round up the troublemakers that lived on the streets. Then, she showed up on Throttle’s doorstep, and her folks got an order making her stay put. Evidently, they’d realized they were wrong, and were trying to make up for it. We all saw how much they loved her, and tried to get her to straighten out. I never found out why she wouldn’t clean up her act, but none of them seemed really happy about the new situation, anyway.

"Throttle convinced his folks to let her hang with us; said it would be good for her, not that she wanted to, or anything, but she preferred us to them. We finally got them to agree, and things went pretty well. We spent our spare time at their place, working on our bikes. She’d learned a lot in her time, and she taught us as much as we were willing to learn. Only good thing I can say about her is that she’s the best mechanic I’d ever seen, after you that is, sweetheart.

"She’s the one that fit our bikes with the rocket boosters and stuff, and that was back before they were even affordable options for civilians. She seemed to warm up to us pretty well, and I was beginning to think she might not be as bad as I’d thought. Only real problem we still had was how she kept treating Throttle like he owed her something.

"Wasn’t long before I noticed that her attitude was changing. She starting hitting Throttle if he did something she didn’t like, even gave him a black eye once. None of us ever saw it happen or anything, but who else could’ve been doing it. Nobody else would ever have laid a hand on him. His folks never hit him, and that we knew for a fact. They got real strict when they caught on and told her that if she didn’t stop hitting him and hanging with us, they would trash her bike. They figured it was the biker life that kept her violent, and that was the only way they knew to get her out of it.

"By this time, one of the guys had taken a real liking to her, and they were trying to get her to settle down. Guess they figured if she didn’t settle with somebody soon, she’d land herself a spot in jail or worse. They were doing their best to help her get her life together, but she wouldn’t do nothing but what she wanted.

"She quit hanging with anybody, rode the streets ‘till the cops made her come in, even quit showing up at school. The only time anybody saw her was when her folks had her on house arrest. She got even weirder than she’d been before, didn’t talk to nobody, kept coming in black-and-blue from street brawls, even showed up pretty badly cut up a couple of times. The only good thing she did at the time was to quit beating on Throttle, and she was forced to do that. Nobody saw a scratch on him after their folks tightened up on her. Course as beat up as she stayed, I’d reckon she was too sore to tackle him like she had been, anyway.

"That guy that liked her was a real good friend of mine. He asked me to talk to her, since I knew her and her brother so well. I did, and she said the only way she’d go out with him was if I could beat her in a fair race. I couldn’t figure what that had to do with anything, but the dude was a real good friend, so I agreed to the race. The deal was that if she won, I’d keep my mouth shut, and if I won, she’d go out with my buddy and straighten up her act. We set it up so nobody else would ever know what happened, and neither of us would loose face. I never figured she’d go back on her word like that…" Vinnie paused, and lowered his head. When he looked up, he had a look on his face that Charley was unable to read.

"To make a long race short, when we went over a jump, she pulled her bike into mine. I didn’t have time to compensate, and crashed into a sand dune. Needless to say, she won. Knowing that I’d been cheated, I blessed her out when I caught up with her. I asked for another race, a fair one, but she refused and we started arguing. I don’t remember what she said, but whatever it was got me real pissed, and I slapped her. I’d never hit a girl before, and haven’t done it since, I just couldn’t stop myself. She let the momentum throw her to the ground, and then she started crying. I was so ashamed of myself that I ran without thinking.

"She showed up later claiming I’d tried to rape her. She’d even gotten somebody to beat her up, and tear her clothes and stuff to make it look better. There was blood all over her. I couldn’t prove a thing. Throttle and Modo thought they had no choice but to believe her, and wouldn’t talk to me for weeks. It took me forever to get the thing cleared up, but she finally told everybody she’d just been mad and wanted to get even, then she made a public apology for all the trouble she’d caused. It wasn’t till she ran off that the guys forgave me. Not even after she admitted her lie would the guys believe the truth, said she’d been forced to take it back or something like that. But, when she ran off, she left a note for Throttle telling him the truth, and they finally admitted that they’d been wrong too.

"None of us thought we’d ever see her again, so we never mentioned anything about her. Two weeks after we joined the Freedom Fighters, though, we caught sight of this gorgeous babe walking through the mess hall. Throttle asked Stoker who the hot chick was. He just grinned, and said if we wanted to make it with the ladies we’d have to get the guts to talk to them ourselves. We fought over who got the honor, and Throttle won out. He nearly died when he realized he was about to flirt with his own sister.

"See, Axle had stumbled onto Stoker and a few others just as they were forming the Freedom Fighters, and they took her in, making her one of their leaders. Turns out she’s the best hand-to-hand fighter on the planet, one of the best at recon missions, too.

"Eventually, things went back to the way they’d been before all the trouble got started. Almost that is; she and I never quite got along after what she did to Throttle. She never could forgive me for fighting her, either. Everything was going great, till she disappeared on us. She was late checking in from a mission, and even Stoker was beginning to worry about her. We organized a rescue mission; her parents were the first to volunteer, of course. Everybody that went on that mission died, and Throttle nearly went stark raving mad, muttering something about forcing his parents to go, for hours on end. He said they’d never cared about Axle, and wouldn’t have gone if he hadn’t told them to. Then he started talking a lot of nonsense about stuff they’d done. Stoke cooled his jets real quick, and made Throttle take two solid weeks off duty, wouldn’t even let him near anybody else for fear of what he’d get started.

"Anyway, when she finally showed up, Stoke tried to explain about her folks, but she started cursing them, claiming they were trash that should have been thrown off the planet ages ago. Needless to say, that upset Throttle. When I tried to explain what had happened, how much we all knew they cared about her, and how much she had hurt Throttle…. Well, she evidently didn’t want to hear it cause she tried to kill me, then ran off after Throttle got in her way. The next thing I knew, Stoker was telling Throttle that he’d sent her on another recon mission, and she’d sacrificed herself to save the others when they were ambushed. We found what we thought was her corpse a coupla years later."

Fortunately for Vinnie, Axle had not filled in all the details about the race he had been using for years as the excuse for his problems with Axle. However, given what little bit Axle had been able to tell her, everything fit together perfectly for Charley, and she had no reason not to believe what was said. Besides that, she had known Vinnie for some time now, and he had proven himself trustworthy, and honest. However, she did not know how to respond to this news. She’d never imagined that anything could come between the Biker Mice, least of all their own family. The mouse she believed Axle to be did not seem to fit Vinnie’s description exactly either, but then again, she had not known her nearly as long as she had known the guys. She found herself totally without words for what was probably the first time in her entire life. So, the two just sat there staring, Vinnie at the sky to avoid Charley’s eyes, Charley at Vinnie while trying to determine what he needed to hear.

It was Vinnie that finally broke the silence, having finally decided what he needed to do. "I didn’t really mean those things I said about her back there, ya know." He tore his gaze from the clouds, and met Charley’s eyes with sincerity. "I gotta patch things up between me and her, for Throttle’s sake. He lost her once and it nearly killed him, I ain’t gonna be the cause of that kinda pain for my bro a second time. What with our past and all, I don’t know if we’ll ever get along, but I’ve gotta try, ya know."

Charley pondered the true meaning behind Vinnie’s words before she said anything. She did her best to reassure him that he was doing the right thing, once she did find the words she needed. "Vinnie, it’s okay that you were angry with her, but that was a long time ago. I’m sure she’s just as upset about the things she did, as you are. She probably thinks you hate her after the way you acted."

"She’s my bro’s sister. I don’t hate her, Charley, I swear."

"I know that, hotshot. But, you’ve gotta think about what you did. I mean, you called her a Plutarkian’s whore, and were ready to shoot her just now. I’m surprised you’re not still wearing Modo’s arm after that little episode."

"Yeah, but I was pissed, what’d she expect me to do?"

"Well, you could have been a little kinder to her. Like you said, she is your bro’s sister."

Vinnie got up and walked over to the edge of the cliff, where he stood looking out over the lake. "You know, I…"

Charley let him have his space, but pressed him to finish his statement. "You, what?"

"I gotta go back and talk to her. There’s a whole lotta bad blood between us, and I gotta get it cleared up. Throttle, ya know… He shouldn’t have to deal with this anymore."

"Then let’s go." Charley said as she stood and brushed the dirt off her jeans.

"Sweetheart, I ain’t going right now. She’s gonna need time to cool off, and I gotta figure out how to approach this thing. Right now, I just gotta try to figure out how the heck I’m gonna get her to talk to me in the first place."

***********************************

BACK AT THE LAST CHANCE GARAGE:

Everyone stared after Charley when she took off after Vinnie. Throttle slumped back into his seat, rested his elbows on the table, and his face in his hands. He had hoped that Axle and Vinnie had gotten over whatever had happened between the two of them. He had at least expected his youngest bro to handle the situation better. He knew better than to expect Axle to hold back, but Vinnie had always kept his head on his shoulders about it before. Not once had his bro ever gone this far over the edge. He shook his head sadly, and put his shades back on, wondering if it would ever get any easier.

Modo stood beside the sink, trying to decide what needed to be done. Normally, he would have followed his bro, done whatever he could to help him out. Charley had already done that, though, and he knew she would be able to help Vinnie more than he could. Unfortunately, that left the two who were more difficult to console for him – Axle and Throttle. Axle, he assumed would be all right, at least she did not look like she was too bothered by what had just happened. Besides, he doubted very seriously that he would be able to come up with anything she needed to hear, or that she would be willing to listen to him anyway. Stoker had been the only one she had ever talked to about anything important. Throttle, on the other hand, was looking like he would collapse from stress any moment. Modo had never seen his bro quite so upset, and they had been through the worst of times together. Only twice before had his bro really shown the toll a situation was taking on him, and this was worse than either one of those. And yet, Modo still found himself unable to come up with anything to say. Finally, he just sat down, silently offering any support the smaller mouse might need.

Axle glanced behind her and watched her brother collapse into himself. She had hoped her homecoming could be good for him, if nothing else, it meant he was no longer as alone as he thought. Instead, his best friend had refused to give up a grudge nearly two decades old, and tried to kill her mere hours after she had returned, smashing any hopes of a joyous homecoming. As she watched, the deep-seated emotional pain her brother was suffering became even more obvious. His shoulders sloped dejectedly, his head lolled against his arm, his tail lay limp, even his ears were drooping. She wondered if she ought to say something, perhaps follow Vinnie and try to diffuse the situation without involving her brother. But, she doubted there was any chance she would be able to solve whatever problems lay between them, as she was still unclear as to their origins. Besides that, she lacked any words of consolation for someone she hardly remembered.

The sound of tires screeching caused Axle to whip her head back towards the window. She frowned slightly, watching as Charley and Vinnie disappeared towards the horizon. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and tried to quiet the blazing inferno of anger he had rekindled. She shook her head in an attempt to clear the unsteady images flashing through her mind. Had they been clear, or even complete, she might have lingered over them, but these were only fuzzy flashes that heightened her anger, and left her feeling somehow unclean. She had thought all her demons laid to rest with the loss of her memories. Granted it was at the cost of whatever happy memories she had had, but it was really a small price to pay for the blessing that had been made so obvious after a journey through her old log entries. Now, she was willing to trade that blessing of lost hardships for the chance to understand what had just happened with Vinnie.

In anger and frustration, she struck out, slamming her left fist into the wall and cursing loudly in the Martian tongue, "Echwah!" Accustomed to sudden outbursts from her, neither Throttle nor Modo did anything more than glance towards her. Her tail lashed wildly behind her, as she hit the wall a second time, smashing her fist straight through. When she pulled her arm out, she whirled around to face two slightly stunned Martian males. She groaned softly, and rolled her eyes at the surprised looks caused by her sudden demonstration of strength, but made no attempt to explain.

After taking a few deep breaths, Axle managed to calm herself. She strode across the room, and slumped into the closest chair. That is, she meant to sit in the chair, and she would have, had she only been standing a couple of inches closer. As it was, she missed the chair, and hit the floor with a loud thud. Frustration at her sudden lack of coordination caused her to lash out once again, this time she slammed her fist against the table leg. Her one ‘little’ punch caused the leg to splinter, sending the table and its contents crashing to the floor.

Throttle and Modo jumped back with a shout. They both looked back and forth from the mess of glass, wood, and root beer, to Axle, and back again. Modo frowned as he tried to figure out how she had managed to break such a solid piece of furniture with one punch, not to mention the wall that she had earlier beaten. Throttle had had enough with her surprising feats of strength, and finally brought himself to ask her straight out, "What the heck was that?"

Axle looked up a little sheepishly, which was totally out of character for her, and curled her legs up into a slightly more dignified position. She looked at her brother and smiled to alleviate his worry, "No biggie. I’m just gonna have to learn how to handle this a little better, that’s all." She casually pulled her glove off, revealing her mechanical hand, and pulled the sleeve up a bit so they could see that the entire arm was metal. "I hope Charley won’t be too pissed ‘bout the table," she added as she slipped the glove back on, and readjusted the sleeve to cover all traces of the metal. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought.

Modo glanced from Axle’s bionic limb to his own, and back again. Now he knew where the extra strength in her right arm had come from when she had pulled him off Vinnie, and how she had managed to bust through the wall, not to mention the shattered table leg. From all reports, he and Stoker were the only mice that had survived the bionic replacement experiments of the Plutarkians. Now he wondered how many other Martians might still be alive and battling with the same feelings that he had fought for so long.

Throttle knelt down beside his sister, wondering how to phrase his feelings without pissing her off. He laid a gentle hand on her leg, meaning to use the contact to show his concern, but instead of the soft fleshy thigh he expected, his hand met hard metal wrapped in leather. He jerked back in surprise, and nearly hit the floor, "Wha…?"

Axle tightened her jaw and shook her head. "Guess I might as well get it all out in the open, huh?" At Throttle and Modo’s questioning glances, she jerked her pants out of her boot, and up just far enough to reveal her bionic leg. "On top of the new face, arm, and leg, the bloody bastards somehow managed to enhance my senses, my agility, and my strength."

"Oh, Mama!"

Ignoring Modo’s comment, and Throttle’s angry stare, Axle continued, "Meet the new and improved model, boys." As she shoved her pants back into her boot, she muttered sarcastically, "Doncha just love it? I know I do."

Throttle looked like he could rip the heads off every Plutarkian in the universe with his bare hands. He did not say a word, just pulled his shades back down to look at Axle eye-to-eye. "We should’ve been there for ya, should’ve got you outta there before they…"

But, Axle slammed her hand over his muzzle, shutting him up rather effectively. "Don’t even start with the should’ve been’s, Throttle. It’s in the past, and there ain’t nothing to be done ‘bout it now. It ain’t like they left me without, or nothing. Just upgraded what I had, ya know. Let it go."

"I’m so sorry. We should have been there, this should have never..." Modo started as he moved closer to Axle to console her, totally ignoring her earlier statement. Remembering nothing more than that his gray-furred momma had always told him he was to watch out for ladies. And, no matter what else Axle was or had been, she was still a female, and that equaled lady in Modo’s mind.

Axle was much too quick for him. From her position on the floor, she expertly executed a backwards flip in mid-air, landing upright, and ten feet from her earlier position, anger clearly written all over her face. "I told ya to drop it, and I meant it!" She crouched low to the ground, clearly ready to fight off any further attempts made by either of them to get closer. "I wouldn’t… I don’t feel sorry for either of you, and I don’t want you’re fucking pity. We all knew this’d happen, dammit. It has. Now, deal with it."

Modo lowered his head dejectedly, knowing that she was right. He knew the pain, and shame that came with the so-called superior limbs. He wanted to say so, to let her know what he had had to learn the hard way. She had seen enough in her life, and he wanted to make things easier for her now that he could. Nevertheless, he knew she would only take offense. Instead, he said what he thought she wanted to hear. "I’m sorry, darling. It won’t happen again. You’re right, it just took us by surprise."

"Modo’s right, sis. I should’ve known better."

Axle sighed, leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor. She knew they were only humoring her, assuming that she’d feel differently later on, and she took offense to that. Nevertheless, she did not feel like going through the same argument she had had with so many others. She had heard all the lines about how ashamed, unclean, even inferior she would eventually feel, but that it was nothing to be ashamed of. She had heard more offers than she could stomach to help her with that shame. She had argued her point with so many others like the two males sitting before her that her head ached at the prospect of reiterating her points, only to have them ignored just like every other time. Instead, she just let them believe what their deluded worlds led them to believe, and put the fight off as long as possible.

"It’s understandable, guys. But, you’ve gotta think rationally ‘bout this. How many other species had they done this to? We all knew it was coming. I was prepared for the possibility. What you guys gotta do is forget it, and tell me what’s been going down back on Mars, maybe you could even explain what the hell you’re doin’ on Earth."

Modo and Throttle took turns detailing the events of the war over the past five years. They started with the frantic search for her that had started the minute Stoker told them about the mission. They had searched nonstop for three days before Throttle finally collapsed in exhaustion. Modo had stayed conscious just long enough to drag his bro back to the base, and collapse beside him. But, that had stopped neither them, nor Stoker. Once they had regained their strength, Stoker had joined them, and the three had spent the next year frantically searching for any trace of her in the various Plutarkian bases they engaged. Finally, they found a lab with records claiming that all captives from the previous year had been lost in an explosion. There had been no denying it after that. They had had to accept the fact that if she had not been killed on the mission, she had been in the explosion.

Then, the two had skipped ahead three years, glossing over a lot of death and destruction for their own sakes, but Axle was well aware of the gravity of all that they avoided simply by looking at their faces. Finally, with sadness in his eyes, Modo told her of their capture, fighting to get Stoker back from the Plutarkians, Mace’s treachery, and the mission that had brought them to Earth. From there, Throttle updated her on their situation with Charley, and Limburger.

Axle heard every word the two said, but no one would have known by looking at her face. Her mind had begun wondering just after they mentioned their own captivity, and her eyes had focused beyond them, and onto the thoughts of all that was being held. How many of her friends had died? How many had been injured, or scarred? How much land had the Plutarkians stripped, or were the Martians finally getting back what was theirs? What was the real truth behind their faces?

"Axe!!" Throttle bellowed at his sister, drawing her out of her reverie. "You listening?" He waved his hand in front of her eyes, and she snapped around to focus a gaze that could have melted straight through Plutarkian glass steel instantaneously.

"Yea, I heard ya," she said, and fell silent again. Her gaze shifted so that instead of seeing him, she was staring neither at him, nor behind him.

Tension in the air grew thick enough to be tangible before Modo finally broke the silence, "Axle, what say we give you a tour of the city?"

Once again drawn from her reverie, Axle slowly turned her eyes and focused on Modo. She considered his request while her gaze fixed him to his spot and dread filled his heart. She would have preferred to wait and talk to Vinnie at the first possible moment, but somehow she doubted it would be wise to be there when he returned.

"Sounds… Shit!" she cursed as she jumped up and dashed into the garage bay.

"Well, that’s not quite the response I expected." Modo said as he and Throttle hastened to follow, both wondering what could have happened so suddenly. What they saw once they caught up to her made them both fall to the floor, rolling with laughter.

Axle knelt beside her bike, begging its forgiveness for having taken so long to complete the repairs she had begun the night before. "Blue, baby! I’m so sorry. Don’t know what came over me, sweets. You ain’t got nothing else ta worry ‘bout though. I ain’t going nowhere till you’re good as new. Promise." Then, she turned and stared vehemently at the two laughing males. "Don’t you two even start with me. You’d be just as upset if your bike had been in the hands of the Plutarkians for five years, nearly lost to bar rabble in one of the worst holes this side of our Sun, not to mention nearly fried trying to save your ass!"

Modo and Throttle sobered quickly. Any true biker’s cycle meant the world to him, and theirs were no exception. But, there had always been something beyond that between Axle and Blue; a bond tighter than any biker and bike pair in existence, something beyond any explanation they could come up with. She had personally designed and installed the weapons, booster rockets, a hyper-drive, and upgraded the sensors. The two worked like one in battle, knowing each other’s moves without need for any kind of signal. Axle was hardly ever without Blue. She never rode another bike, and Blue would not allow anyone else to ride him unless Axle specifically requested it.

Ignoring the two, Axle turned and bent to the task of repairing her treasured friend. Modo walked over and offered to assist Axle, in a gentlemanly effort to apologize. He knew what it was like for your bike to be your best friend. Lil’ Hoss and he were nearly as close as she and Blue were. Of course, their relationship would never quite compare. The things he had seen her and Blue accomplish together were completely dumbfounding. He had challenged her to enter the races several times, but she had always refused. She said she did not need any title to tell her how good they were, that the races were for egotistical bastards that would never fully understand what it meant to be a biker.

Axle looked up, doubt written all over her face as Modo approached her. "Look, I don’t trust just anybody to touch my baby. You any good?"

Modo and Throttle shared a worried glance, wondering how Axle could have forgotten something that used to be such basic knowledge. "It’s been a while, but I didn’t think it’d been that long, Axle. Didn’t figure on you being the one to forget all the time we spent working together."

"Axe, wasn’t nobody but you and Harley better than ol’ Modo here when it come to fixin’ up bikes. What’s wrong?"

"Nothing, just forget it." She smiled, and gestured Modo over. "Fender’s busted up pretty damn good. Think ya can pull ‘em out?" Without another word, the two set to work, and the earlier tension of the day melted away. In the old days, Axle and Modo had spent hours working on their bikes together, each understanding the strength of the bond between mouse and machine that the other possessed.

Throttle settled into a chair across the room, and admired the ease with which his sister worked. He had spent tireless hours watching her work on Blue or his own ride at one time. He never grew tired of watching her work, and would always marvel at the machines she could repair. He had seen bikes that any other mechanic would have sent straight to the scrap pile turned into top-of-the-line machines in a matter of days under her care. But, she had the hands of a true artist when it came to her own bike, and had taught Throttle and Modo everything they knew beyond the basic mechanic work every good biker learned.

Four hours later Modo and Axle stood back and admired the new paint job they had just finished. Axle had to admit that Blue had never looked better. The paint was very simple - dark blue body, with a small black Freedom Fighter emblem on the front. It was a slight change from what Blue had always sported in the past, but she liked it well enough, and Blue did not seem to mind the change either. Charley didn’t have the materials to match the paint job Blue had sported throughout most of his life, but that was a problem Axle intended to rectify as soon as possible no matter how at ease she was with this new look. The wax Modo had so lovingly applied gave the bike a luster that would have blinded any bystander if they were unlucky enough to look directly at Blue in the sunlight. Axle caressed the leather seat, and Blue gave a grateful beep proving that all was right again, and there were no hard feelings after having been left out of commission for such a long time.

Throttle walked over to admire their work up close. "Looks as good as new." Then he took a closer look at Axle. It was the only appraising look he had given her since he first saw her standing in Charley’s kitchen – he’d been too surprised to see her to do it before. She had always looked like she was starving, but she was impossibly thin now. Every bone in her body was starkly outlined, even through the heavy leather she habitually wore. He was certain he could see bruises welling up on her left forearm, and above her left eye, which was odd because she had hardly shown such miniscule signs of wear and tear. Nonetheless, it was her eyes that really worried him. If nothing else, Axle’s eyes had always sparkled with the thrill of living and fighting, but now they were dull and hollowed out. Just looking in her eyes for a moment had always encouraged him. He knew that so long as Axle’s eyes held that spark, everything would be all right. The only time it ever changed was when she snapped, but that only deepened the small spark into a raging inferno. Now, there was nothing there. It gave him the eerie feeling that he was looking into a dead lake, and a slight shiver ran over him.

Damn, she looks worse than the night I took her to Modo’s momma, he thought as he wondered how he was going to help her this time. Knowing better than to tell her how bad she looked, Throttle quickly decided to gently force her onto the fast track to health, or as close as she could come to it. "How ‘bout some lunch?" he suggested, hoping that she would take the bait.

"Don’t suppose you’ve got any beer or hot dogs on hand, do ya?" Axle asked, suddenly realizing that she had not eaten anything in days, and the last thing she had had to drink was the root beer Charley offered her last night.

"Hot dogs, we’ve got," Modo started, then looked at Throttle rather apprehensively, unsure of how to react to her second request. It was not a secret that Axle drank rather extensively. It was something that everyone had learned to live with, that and learning to stay away from her when she had had too much to drink. Not that that happened all that often. The way Axle drank, it had become almost impossible for her to get drunk by the time she had joined the Freedom Fighters. When she was, though, anybody was a target for her anger, and the slightest annoyance would send her into a tirade even worse than her sober ones, and those were enough to send a saber squid into hiding. The problem was that the last time Modo had seen somebody tell Axle she could not have the beer she had requested, she’d nearly ripped their head off in her anger. He was not willing to be the victim of her rage now that he had already had a taste of her new strength.

Recognizing the problem instantaneously, Throttle took up the torch and broke the news himself. "The closest thing we’ve got to beer around here is root beer. Take it or leave it, sis. You know how I feel about drinking, anyway."

Axle started to remind him that she really did not know how he felt about drinking, and let him know that she would kill for a beer right then, but decided against it. She was much too tired to have to listen to either him or Modo complain about the injustices wreaked upon her by the Plutarkians a second time. Instead, she took the simpler approach, and just went with whatever was offered to her, not knowing that that would startle the males even more than an assault would have. "Yeah, well, I suppose that’ll have to do then. Pardon me if I prefer something a bit more numbing than sugar water, but I ain’t had the best of times lately. Anyway, seeing as I don’t know my way round this place, you two are gonna have to do the honors. I think I’ve done enough damage to Charley’s place for one day, anyway." In order to further emphasize her point, she sat down on the couch, and made herself as comfortable as was possible.

Knowing better than to argue with her, and not just a little stunned by her docile reaction, Throttle and Modo went into the kitchen to do their best at putting together some lunch. Throttle was slightly worried that Axle had given in so easily. However, he was pleased at the same time, hoping it meant she had finally gotten over whatever it was that made her want to drown herself in the mind-numbing liquid all the time. Modo had just sighed a sigh of relief, pleased that she had not responded as violently as he had expected. The fiery temper he remembered seemed to have died down with time. Neither mouse said anything as they cooked the hot dogs, and pulled several bottles of root beer out of the refrigerator.

Fifteen minutes later, Throttle, laden with a tray of hot dogs, came back to find Axle sound asleep where she sat on the couch. "No wonder she didn’t argue," he said to himself.

Modo, who was following closely behind carrying an armload of root beers, nearly crashed into his bro but managed to pull up just in the nick of time. "Hey, bro! What’s up?"

Throttle moved aside so Modo could see what had stopped him, then started back. "We’ll eat in the kitchen. Let her get some rest. Who knows when the last time she got any good rest was. She deserves it."

The two males went right back where they came from, but Throttle turned back once everything was on the counter, with Modo following closely behind. Throttle picked his sister up, and laid her out in a more comfortable position on the couch. Meanwhile, Modo grabbed a spare blanket out of Charley’s closet, and draped it over her. Axle shifted slightly, but gave no other indication that she was aware of what was going on, despite the fact that she’d awakened the first time they came through the door and hadn’t yet managed to drift off again. The two tiptoed back into the kitchen, and Axle enjoyed her first peaceful sleep in years as they ate.

Not long after Axle had slipped into slumber for the second time, Charley and Vinnie finally returned. Vinnie had convinced Charley how right he was about Axle, and how wrong everyone else had been to believe Axle’s side of the story. It was something that he had never managed to do before, and he was elated. He had not changed his mind about trying to end the problem between them; in fact, he was more resolved than ever to get things straightened out because of what Charley had said to him. She’d reasoned that what had happened in the past should be left in the past because they were both different people now, and should start all over again with that in mind. Besides, the only person that they were hurting anymore was Throttle, and surely he meant more than whatever they held against each other

Therefore, Vinnie had come back to talk to Axle. Finding her asleep when he got there took the edge off his nerves, and gave him some more time to think about just how to approach her. In addition, he would have time to talk to Throttle and Modo and let them know what he had decided. He knew he had to cover things just right, otherwise his bros would find out what had happened, and that was something he definitely did not want to happen. He just hoped Axle would not want to dredge up the whole thing again, and would just let it lie for once.

Of course, all that had to wait until after Throttle and Modo had explained to Charley what happened to her table. She took it surprisingly well, and only ranted about bikers with despicable manners and violent tendencies for five minutes, instead of her usual ten to fifteen.

When Charley finally stopped ranting, Vinnie changed the subject, explained what he wanted to do, and that he wanted Throttle and Modo to be there when he talked to Axle. "It’s been a long time since we were able to talk at all without one of us threatening to kill the other. I want my bros there to keep the peace. You know what her temper’s like, and I can’t promise I won’t get pissed and go for her again. But, I’ll do my best, bros. Ya got my word on that."

Throttle and Modo looked at each other. They had seen Vinnie through a lot since Axle had disappeared, and knew he had grown up a lot because of it all. Nevertheless, they remembered just how much he and Axle despised each other, and all the violence that had passed between them over even the smallest of offenses. It was hard to believe that the mouse sitting in front of them, telling them that he had been a total creep and wanted to make up for it all, was the same one that had nearly run her over ‘in the heat of battle’ more times than could be accepted as mere accident. Then again, they had also heard Stoker and Vinnie shortly after they had found what they thought to be Axle’s corpse, and Vinnie had seemed sincerely hurt by the loss. Stoker had even told them that he was convinced Vinnie had been ready to end the squabble, if only Axle had been around to do the same.

What passed between Throttle and Modo at that moment was not a questioning glance, but a knowing one. They had hoped this moment would come one day, but had had to give up that hope after finding her ‘body.’ Now it seemed their desire would finally be fulfilled. Throttle would have his family together, and Modo would no longer have to break up fights between two of his good friends.

When Throttle turned back to face Vinnie, he was happier than Vinnie had seen him since before the wars had started. "Vin-man, you can’t know how much this means to me. You couldn’t keep me away with bottled Plutarkian stench."

"Same goes for me, man," Modo chimed in, giving Vinnie a friendly pat on the back. "Be great to have the old team back together again. Just wish ol’ Stoke could be here too."

A small stab of regret hit Vinnie’s heart, but he gave no visible sign of it, nor did he acknowledge its cause. Instead, he continued exactly as he had planned. "Charley-girl, I know this has nothing to do with you, but I’d appreciate it if you’d be there too."

Charley’s eyes opened wide in surprise. "You mean I’m actually being invited to participate in one of the escapades of the Biker Mice. My, my, will wonders never cease!"

"If you don’t…"

"No, Vinnie, I’m sorry. Look, I’d be honored to see the end of the only thing that could divide you guys."

******************************************

Little did the Biker Mice or Charley know, but they were being watched. From the celestial vapors a silent creature watched. He knew the feelings hidden deep within the hearts of the Biker Mice, and he knew their true pasts. He had been there when the trouble between Axle and Vinnie had started, and was one of only four in the galaxy that knew the reality of the matter. Never before had he spoken about it in even the smallest manner. However, now that Vinnie was getting everyone to believe his side, and about to save his face by being ‘the bigger mouse’ and ending the quarrel first, it was time to do something.

"So this is how you intend to convince your friends of your lies," he growled, "you wait until she no longer knows the truth, then you strike. I suppose you’ll cover your tracks by getting her vow of friendship when she’s down, won’t you, ya rat? You know she’d never break that vow, no matter how much comes back to her." Of course, seeing as he was dead, nobody else heard this, but that did not stop him from talking. "Well, I think not. She may not remember what you did back then, but I do, and I know Stoker does. One way or the other Vincent, you’ll go down for what you did. If it takes the rest of my afterlife, and cashing in every favor I’ve racked up, Axle’ll see you pay for what you did to her. You’ve my word on that, and I always keep my word."

**********************************

As Axle was telling what she could about the last five years to the Biker Mice and Charley, Lawrence Lactavius Limburger and Dr. Karbunkle were engaged in a consultation of their own. Limburger Plaza had only recently been rebuilt, and Karbunkle had devised yet another plan to liberate his illustrious headman of the bothersome vermin that continued to foil his attempts to deliver valuable resources to Plutark. However, the two villains were unable to complete their discussion, because as soon as Karbunkle began demonstrating his invention, the transporter at the far end of the laboratory began to hum with life. There was a bright flash of light, and then the head of Lord Camembert’s elite guard, General Acidophilus Asiago, exited the chamber.

General Asiago stood a foot taller than any other Plutarkian, and had a firm, fit figure, rivaling that of even Modo, as opposed to the flabby physique of most of the same species. Furthermore, he was known galaxy-wide as the most rigid and vicious commander ever to lead troops. No one had ever dared to question him and managed to live long enough to finish their question. His ruthlessness alone had enabled him to achieve his position of power. For, this particular fish met neither the standards of mass, nor stench that usually led to true greatness among Plutarkians.

Nonetheless, Asiago’s rise to power had started on a fast track when he was only four years old, and murdered his mother for questioning his veracity. He joined Plutark’s armed forces at the age of ten, a time when the Plutarkian government was desperate for troops to help them urge other planets into letting them ‘borrow’ some natural resources. The young fish’s commanders had realized his potential long before he had completed the preliminary training, and had taken him directly to Lord Camembert. Once there, he was immediately promoted to commander of Camembert’s personal elite guard

Only General Roquefort, the general whose place Asiago was taking, had questioned the propriety of putting a child, who had never seen combat, nor proven his ability to properly lead troops, into such a position of power. Rumors still abounded about the method with which Asiago had disposed of Roquefort for his impudence. Some even suggested that Roquefort was still alive, and being used as a test subject for new troop punishments, for which the General seemed to have a boundless imagination.

Unlike his troops, Asiago’s uniform was a simple red suit, just tight enough to show off his finely honed physique exquisitely, but not the typical spandex, which was designed to accentuate the flab of other soldiers. He carried only a simple laser pistol, and a small dagger made of Plutarkian glass-steel, but rarely used either of them. He preferred to use his hands to attack his enemies, and was highly-trained in all forms of hand-to-hand combat.

As the hardened General stepped from the transporter, he studied both Karbunkle and Limburger with extreme distaste, immediately regretting his need to associate with such lowly creatures. Nevertheless, he reminded himself, Karbunkle is the only scientist capable of the task at hand. Matters must be settled here as quickly as possible, and the more prudent choice is not to involve any of the humans. I will survive this encounter, no matter how distasteful it may be.

As Asiago fixed him with his eyes, Limburger began to quake with fear, but he did his best to put on a good show, knowing that if he did not please the General, it could mean his life. He inched forward with every ounce of courage he could muster, and presented his rather large posterior in the traditional Plutarkian manner. "My dear General Asiago, I proffer my warmest accolade, and the traditional Plutarkian greeting. Limburger Plaza is at your disposal."

General Asiago snorted at the gesture, and pushed Limburger aside so that he landed flat on his face. "Out!" he ordered, then strode towards Karbunkle. "Doctor, I would speak to you."

Karbunkle had done business with Acidophilus before, and knew that he had more respect for a competent man, secure in his own abilities than one who tried to hide his shortcomings, and put forth a false face. Thus, the ‘good’ doctor made no attempts to impress the General, only gave him the respect he had earned through a truly impressive career. "General Asiago, it is truly my pleasure. How might I be of service to Plutark’s most celebrated general?"

By this time, Limburger was slinking out the door, on his way to listen to the conversation between the two from his office. The commanding voice of Asiago bounced from the walls just as the doors were sliding open. "If you eavesdrop on my conversation, Limburger, I assure you that it will be the last thing you ever hear."

"No, no! Of course not, my dear General." Seeing that Asiago was no longer paying attention to him, Limburger exited the chamber with as much haste as his bulging form could muster.

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Asiago addressed Karbunkle in a much more civil tone. "Doctor, approximately five Earth years ago you presented Lord High Chairman Camembert with a gift as an example of your experimentation on Mars."

"Yes, I remember that particular gift quite well, your cruelness. She was the first fully successful conversion of a Martian mouse into a bionic soldier for Plutark, and one of their resistance’s leaders, I might add. A most magnificent specimen, if I do say so myself."

"Lord Camembert and I were inclined to agree, Karbunkle. However, our High Chairman’s curiosity got the better of him in the end, and his personal scientists were commissioned to conduct further experiments on the rodent. He wanted to see just how far the conversions could be carried out."

"Yes, I received many communications concerning their work. They obtained some amazing results, as I understand; heightened the senses, increased speed and agility through bone and muscle manipulation, not to mention their work on the primitive brain function. Quite fascinating achievements, actually."

Completely uninterested with the details, the general hastened to continue. "Yes, well, I protested these experiments rather vehemently. A slave should remain entirely insubstantial, and completely submissive. Camembert was getting into trouble by adding to what was already impressive strength. He did not agree with my ideas, and dismissed my warnings. Foolish fish that he was.

"He sent her on his errands, and made her a member of his personal security escort. He came to cherish that Martian as his most valuable possession, flaunted her strengths in front of the Council, even gave her a name. Yil Hondra - ‘White Death’ - he called her. His foolish pride has caused all us a great deal of trouble, Doctor." By this time, Asiago had taken a seat on one of the lab benches, and was carefully studying Karbunkle’s reactions to his statements.

For his part, Karbunkle was listening raptly to the massive humanoid fish seated not five feet away. He was extremely interested in studying the effects Camembert’s scientists’ work had had on the Martian, and was positively salivating at what he assumed to be the perfect opportunity. He could not afford to miss a single word if he was to work with him, as he knew that expedient and precise work was expected from all under his command. "I’m afraid I’m a bit disconcerted, General. How is it that one paltry slave can cause such an ordeal?"

"A member of the Council took offense to Camembert’s remarks, claiming his own Martian was far superior. Lord Camembert felt he could not allow this boast to go unchallenged. A death-match was scheduled between the two slaves for the next day. When I was informed, I insisted upon handling the slaves myself, as I had suspicions that there would be trouble otherwise. The match proceeded wonderfully. Neither the slaves, nor the spectators got out of line.

"As I watched White Death rip her opponent’s head off, securing Lord Camembert’s victory, I saw something snap in her eyes. At that moment, I realized she had freed her mind, and was attempting an escape. I drew my gun, and fired, but was too late. She had already managed to kill over half the guards and several members of the Council before I could react. She evaded my troops, found that blasted motorcycle you sent along with her, and escaped Plutark.

"Of course, the Council immediately set a death sentence on her head. Nothing less could be expected after the havoc she wreaked upon Plutark’s citizenry. I have been following her since her escape, determined to carry out her sentence. However, her strength and speed are far beyond anything I have ever encountered, and I have met with many difficulties in pursuing her."

Now Karbunkle knew there was much more at stake than just his chance to study Plutark’s head scientist’s work. If what he had read about that work was true, then this Martian was quite possibly unstoppable. She had already proven herself to be nearly so by escaping General Asiago, whom no one had ever gotten more than three steps away from before. Nevertheless, there was still hope if the General was working alone, and had yet to enlist the aid of other soldiers. "I believe I might just have…"

"I don’t want your weapons, Doctor. Nor do I require you to devise a plan for her capture. I only require your assistance in implementing my own plan. I did my homework on this bitch while I was tracking her." At this, Asiago began perusing Karbunkle’s lab, randomly picking up objects and scrutinizing them. "It seems you chose quite an interesting subject to send the High Chairman. She’s quite a history. Not to mention the fact that she just happens to be sister to one of the Biker Mice, who are causing you and your employer so much trouble here on Earth." He stopped his earlier examinations, and closed the distance between himself and the doctor, so that he could further emphasis his point. "I believe his name is Throttle, is in not. My quarry arrived on Earth not twenty-four hours ago, in search of this rodent."

Sweat rolled down Karbunkle’s face, and he began to inch backwards under the scrutinizing glare of the general. His voice emerged even squeakier than usual, and he stuttered and stammered over the words, finding it almost impossible to remain calm in the presence of such a domineering presence. "I know the rodent you speak of well, General. If I follow your suggestion correctly, you plan to use him as bait in order to capture your target."

"Excellent, Doctor. Be forewarned however, I want neither Limburger, nor his goons involved in this matter. They have proven themselves more than incapable of prevailing where the Biker Mice are concerned, and Yil Hondra’s skills are certainly more than they are capable of handling.

"Now to your part in this little ‘drama’, Karbunkle. I require a motorcycle capable of keeping up with the Martians’. Our own scientists managed to obtain some schematic plans while studying the bike you sent to them, but were unable to complete said plans. From your reputation, I believe you are the only person in the galaxy capable of taking the information I have, and building a proper vehicle for me." After handing the disc imprinted with the schematics he had spoken of, Asiago turned to leave.

Just as the laboratory doors opened, Karbunkle finally found his voice again. "I won’t fail…" Before Karbunkle had time to finish, Asiago whirled and fixed him with a deadly stare. "No, Doctor, you won’t, not if you value your life. You have exactly twelve hours to complete the machine. Now, I have business with Limburger to attend to. I shall return shortly to review your progress."

Once outside the lab, and certain that he was alone, Asiago reached down to his boot, and pulled out a knife much too small for his own hand. He stared at the blade, running his finger along the slightly dull edge, and smiled. "Not much longer now, Axle-dear. Not long at all," he muttered to himself totally losing the pompous accent which had earlier clouded his highly formal speech, and slipping into a much more common speech patter, as he deposited the knife back into its resting-place.

"Now, for Limburger," he said rubbing his massive hands together with anticipation. "This is gonna be fun. Ol’ blubber-butt ain’t gonna know what hit him." An evil grin swept briefly over his face, then the cold mask returned, and he strode with determination towards Limburger’s office.

Without even knocking, or giving any indication of his presence, Asiago burst into Limburger’s office. What he saw once the door was open nearly made even him loose his lunch. Limburger was lounging completely nude in his tub, sloppily slurping down slime worms. No matter how many times I see such gluttony, I won’t ever get used to it, he thought to himself.

Limburger nearly jumped out of the water in his surprise. Fortunately though, he remembered his state of undress, and sank a little deeper in the water from embarrassment at having been caught laying down on the job, as it were. "Umm… I…" he stammered, trying desperately to come up with an acceptable excuse for his lounging.

Asiago just shook his head, and raised a hand to silence the fool. "Silence, you pompous tub of lard. I have a message for you from Lord High Chairman Camembert and the other members of the Council. They have decided to terminate all operations on this measly planet. After much research, it has been discovered that the inhabitants have an odd way of banding together against a common foe. The Council does not see the profit in fighting wars on two planets so close together, especially when one is nearly stripped, and the other has been so poorly used by its own inhabitants. There is, of course, the added apprehension that Mars and Earth may band together to battle Plutark, and subsequently draw other planets into the fray. All other planetary lords have been reassigned, and subsequently transported to their new posts."

Limburger was quite pleased with this new development. He had come to despise Earth, and was more than willing to go to any other planet, including Mars. "Most excellent, my renowned warrior." Grabbing a towel, he moved his considerable bulk out of the tub, and went behind a screen where he donned his customary purple suit, but not the mask, or gloves. Asiago waited patiently, anticipating the thrill of what was to come. When he finally emerged, Limburger was looking as pleased as possible. "I presume you have already dismissed that bothersome Karbunkle, and are here to escort me to my new post," he prattled on, and began to gather his personals. "By the way, where exactly am I to be reassigned, General?"

"You, Lawrence Lactavius Limburger, are not to be reassigned, but to be disposed of at my discretion. Your blunderings here, and on Mars have convinced the Council that you are neither worthy of your station, nor of your life. Your continued existence creates far too many occasions for the further embarrassment of our illustrious leaders." Very simply, Asiago drew his blaster and aimed for Limburger’s head. "Now, we can make this easy, or hard. I would personally prefer the hard way, but I don’t really have time to bother with that right now. The easy way will serve just as well."

Limburger threw up his arms, and began inching towards the wall. "Now, now, my dear General. Surely, we can discuss this. I shall procure anything you covet, sir. Please, just don’t kill me. At least give me the opportunity to converse with the Council. I’m certain I can convince them of my merit if given the proper opportunity."

"I have my orders, Limburger. Your pitiful pleas mean nothing to me." Slowly, he began squeezing the trigger, loving the look of terror deep in his victim’s eyes. These were the moments he lived for - those few brief ones just before a victim’s death.

Limburger threw himself at Asiago’s feet, blubbering like a wounded child. "I’m begging you, General. I’m too young to die. You can’t kill me. Please, don…."

Without even the smallest twinge of guilt or remorse, Asiago pulled the trigger, and watched with pleasure as Limburger’s head dissolved to leave only a bleeding neck. He kicked the corpse, and took a deep breath. "Ah," he sighed, "I do so love the smell of burnt flesh. Now, for his goons." Walking over to the desk, he pressed a button and addressed the inhabitants of the tower. "Plutark is no longer funding this wasteful expedition of Limburger’s. Your employer has been terminated. If you do not wish to meet the same fate, I suggest you leave poste haste. Karbunkle, that does not mean you!"

After one more whiff of the air, Asiago returned to Karbunkle’s lab. There, he found the transporter smoking from the hasty retreat of so many goons. The doctor was hard at work, having nearly completed the schematics necessary to build the motorcycle.

"Karbunkle, my good doctor, you shall be rewarded for this. Perhaps Lord Camembert, himself, will add you to his payroll. Of course, that is all contingent upon your ability to actually complete my conveyance."

Much surer of himself in the general’s presence, Karbunkle actually managed to remain composed as he conversed with Asiago. "But, of course, General. I should have the plans completed within the hour, and the building of the mechanical wonder should take no longer than four hours. I expect very few complications. As I’m sure you’re aware, I have built such a conveyance before."

"Yes, I am quite aware of that Karbunkle. I am also aware of the fact that those bikes didn’t last very long. I expect much better results this time. As you suggest, I shall return in six hours, expecting to find my bike ready and waiting for my use."

"Yes, of course."

Once again, Asiago left the laboratory, but this time, he made his way to the communications room. He sat on a stool, and began inputting data into the tracking computer. Here’s hoping she’s got those electrical systems back online. If there’s nothing else I can count on, it’s that girl taking care of that bike. Can’t believe she went this long without stopping everything to put it back in perfect order. A small blip showed up on the screen, and he identified the Last Chance Garage with a smile. Good, she found them. Now, let’s just hope she got them to believe her story, and that the rendezvous hasn’t changed. After a preliminary scan that showed she was alone and the only one close to Blue, he sent a call.

Fortunately, Blue managed to intercept the transmission before the communication unit began beeping, alerting the Biker Mice, and he subsequently shut down his audio systems. He then traced the call, recorded the identification signature, and rolled across the room to wake Axle. Axle’s senses warned her of the approach long before he got within fifteen feet of her. She jumped up from the couch, dropping immediately into a defensive posture, ready to attack whatever had invaded her space. When she realized that Blue was the reason she had woken up, and that she had an incoming call. She checked the signature, mounted her bike, and left the garage silently.

It was not until she had gotten three blocks away that Axle felt secure enough to respond to the transmission. "What the hell d’you want? You almost blew it back there, ya bloody bastard."

"I knew you’d be pleased to hear from me, girl. Good work on that evasion, by the way. You made it look absolutely authentic."

"Yeah, well, ya didn’t tell me those assholes were gonna be shootin’ live ammo, back there. Was as real as it looked. Ya ain’t lost your nerve, have ya? We are still doin’ this."

Asiago chuckled lightly, making Axle frown. "Sounds like somebody else is having second thoughts…"

"Don’t even start with me, asshole. We’re gonna have a few problems with Vinnie, but the others shouldn’t cause any trouble. I see no need to change our plans from this end. How goes it your way?"

"Limburger and his goons are already taken care of. The Plutarkian Council, after hearing my expert opinion, as well as a very subtle threat, gave me the go ahead. Oh, I also managed to get them to cancel those bounties. This planet, and your friends are safe, though I wish I could’ve done more for Mars."

Axle rolled her eyes, and growled in frustration. Asiago had been talking about trying to save what was left of Mars since the two of them began working on their plan. She thought she had finally convinced him that there was nothing they could do there, but it appeared she had not. "Don’t start that shit again, big boy. We got bigger fish to fry, right now. Ya got Karbunkle working on those plans I sent ya?"

"Yeah, but it’s gonna take a little longer than we thought. I only got half of ‘em before I had to cut transmission. But, he’s a helluva lot more intelligent than we gave him credit for. He filled in the missing pieces, and has assured me that he’ll have a cycle for me in four hours."

"Good. No need to change any of the plans then. We’ll meet tonight at my crash sight." Just before cutting their link, a thought entered Axle’s mind. "Oh, Acid-baby?"

"Yes…"

"Be gentle with Karbunkle when you kill him, he’s really not quite as bad as they make him out to be. After all, he at least had the decency to knock me out before he started his shit. Camembert’s bastards didn’t do nothing to make it easier. Gotta go before they realize I’m gone. Watch your ass."

"Hold up, there’s something else I gotta ask."

"Save it! Been gone too long as it is. If I’m not there, they’re gonna get suspicious, and wind up following me tonight."

"I know, I know. We can’t afford that right now. Just go, I’ll talk to ya tonight. It can wait. Take care, and watch your own ass, sweet-thang."

When she finally cut the transmission with Asiago, Axle got back to the garage as quickly as she could, but he did not move. Instead, he sat quietly in the communication room of the now-deceased-Limburger’s Tower, and considered the events that had brought him to this point.

Despite being only a quarter Plutarkian, he had been born with an unmistakable resemblance to their race, which was more than enough to enable him to infiltrate their government. From there, he had obtained a position from which he could help their victims. He had always intended to discover a way to help all of them, maybe even destroy the Plutarkian race as a whole, but had never expected his chance to be presented by a Martian slave.

Axle had actually broken free from the constraints of the Mind-Bender during transport to Camembert, but only Asiago had the slightest hint of this unexpected circumstance, and he had chosen to keep it to himself. The problem was that she had no idea who she truly was, or what had happened to her. He had had no choice but to keep her where she was until she was back to herself.

As he watched, her memory began to come back to her in slow, painful pieces. She suffered most when she tried to force memories, but she did it often, nonetheless. He had admired her strength, and her insistence on rediscovering her past, and had found himself working with her to plot her escape. He had not quite started out to help her, but could not stop himself once he looked into her eyes. There was something there that he could not deny, something that he felt an odd kinship to. It was almost as if she was a part of him. Therefore, he had spent every possible opportunity with her, fine-tuning a plan of escape that would free both her and her bike.

Unfortunately, Camembert had decided to further the experiments Karbunkle had started, and she’d been moved before they had chance to put their plan into action. Axle had somehow managed to survive the surgeries, despite insurmountable odds, and was somehow pleased with the results. As she put it, ‘they only helped me out, babe, made it easier for me to escape, ya know.’

Shortly after her release from the labs, their plans had been interrupted a second time by Camembert’s decision to use her as his personal servant. He made her something as an emissary of death, sending her to assassinate random planetary lords who failed to accomplish their tasks, or to deal with the leaders of bands who opposed the Plutarkian supremacy. It was these missions that led him to give her the name Yil Hondra, and by anyone’s estimation, it was a name well deserved. It was not until after she had voluntarily stopped an assassination attempt against Camembert, that he had decided to make her a member of his personal security escort.

Another opportunity for her escape had not presented itself until the death match. No one had suspected the General as a conspirator, primarily due to his shining record, but also because of the stupidity of Camembert’s scientists in creating an undefeatable slave. Nobody expected even someone with General Asiago’s strength and experience to be able to capture her alone, and word quickly spread of the idiocy demonstrated by Camembert in giving a slave so many tastes for freedom and blood.

The five years of Axle’s captivity had brought her, and the general together as something more than friends, but definitely not lovers, something beyond that initial connection he had felt. Neither of them had ever tried to define what they had, they were both too thankful to have someone in such close proximity that they could trust. There was no accounting for how they had come together, or why they had chosen to trust one another, but it had happened.

Once she had escaped, Asiago put his own escape plan into motion, requesting an audience with the Council as a whole. His reputation and the data he presented to the Council convinced them to go along with his suggestions, and end all missions on Earth. He’d considered saying something further about Mars, but had stopped himself, knowing that if all went well, Mars would not suffer Plutark’s iron fist much longer. He had then offered to search out the bothersome escaped slave personally, ‘in order to keep his record spotless.’

He and Axle had made plans to meet within a solar cycle of her escape, and the two had planned to search for a worthy contact from Mars. Unfortunately, the Plutarkian Council had set a price on Axle’s head before Asiago was sent out, and they had spent the largest portion of their time evading bounty hunters, and random Plutarkian soldiers. Of course, the facts that Axle’s memory was still very foggy, and that most of what she remembered centered around her bike, and her basic personality only slowed down their progress even more. Eventually though, she had remembered Throttle, and had devised a plan to set everything up for herself and Asiago through him. Unfortunately, it meant that once carried out, they would probably never be able to contact each other again. Nonetheless, they felt it a small price to pay for the complete safety of Earth, and the beginning of the end for Plutarkians.

So far, everything was going according to plan. Asiago had met up with the battle cruiser patrol orbiting Earth, and contacted the Council from the lead ship. Then, he convinced the Council to take the bounty off Axle’s head, and those of the Biker Mice, promising to bring them all in himself within the week. Of course, they had believed him, as he had never committed himself to a task and not been able to complete it. He’d helped Axle steal a private shuttle, and set the targeting computers on board all the battle cruisers off just enough not to be noticed, but more than enough to guarantee her safe entry into Earth’s atmosphere.

Knowing that Karbunkle was the closest capable scientist, they had decided that Asiago should pay the doctor a visit, get himself a motorcycle, and take care of Limburger and goons in one easy move. He was not quite sure where him having a Martian bike, complete with an AI computer, fit into the plan. But, Axle had promised to tell him that part, as well as what she called the ‘grande finale’, as soon as he got his ride. They had set the time of contact, but had agreed to confirm the time and place at the first available opportunity. Now that all that was accomplished, all he had to do was wait for Karbunkle to finish the bike, dispose of the doctor, and go to the crash site to wait for Axle.

It was all beginning to seem too easy. Nevertheless, at this point, there was not really anything that he could stop. He was already in too deep to be able to pull himself out with any hope of retaining the spotless reputation as an exemplary Plutarkian general. Not that he would have pulled out even if he did have the option. He trusted Axle, and believed she had everything under control. He rationalized that his unease was due to the fact that he had never participated in any plan of such a grand scale, and not knowing all the details only made him that much more uneasy. He was certain that once Axle explained the remaining details to him, all would be fine. The only thing she had told him so far had something to do with repaying an old debt, and seeing to it that somebody was taken care of. With no way of knowing what else to do, he decided to just sit back, and bide his time until Karbunkle had finished the motorcycle.

Only twelve more Earth hours, he thought, and I’ll know what she’s got up her sleeve.

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