Biker Mice from Mars - Mountain Drift

Chapter 1: Hanging by a Thread

Bogus Basin Rd.

Shaffer Butte, Idaho

August 8th, 2010

Throttle crawled on his hands and knees from the twisted metal wreck of part of what was once a Martian thunder pike star ship. His bros were nowhere in sight, and he was bleeding badly, his body battered, bruised, and lacerated from the crash landing. Pain seared across his leg like fire as he dragged himself away from the smoldering wreckage. He couldn't even find his bike, nor could he tell what shot him down. Throttle remembered what happened after they took off from Quigley Field. Right when they were exiting the atmosphere, they were shot at by something on the ground. The ship had taken several severe hits. First, the shields, then the engines, and before he knew it the ship broke up into three pieces on re-entry. He wasn't sure where he was exactly, but that didn't matter. He had bigger issues to worry about. His head felt like it was going to split in two, and the gash in his side flared up in fiery pain as he continued to crawl. The memory was still fresh, of him reaching out to try and grab Vinnie and Modo, as they tried to grab him. But they were out of reach of each other, and they plummeted to earth, landing in different places on a northern continent. Throttle had landed on a mountain. A barren, alpine mountain.

Throttle crawled up to a road. He dragged himself over the guardrail, then lay on the side of the road, on the verge of blacking out. Many thoughts plagued him: Were the others alright? Was he going to live, or die? Had Limburger had the last laugh after all?

He didn't notice the car approaching him until it pulled over...

#

Manuel Vernandez drove down Bogus Basin road, the headlights of his blue Honda CR-X cutting through the darkness of the trees as he started his twenty-mile trek back home, from his latest delivery for his father. He drove a bit slower tonight, which was rare, considering he liked to fly down the mountain as fast as he could. He could not explain it, but something inside was telling him to take it slow tonight. It felt like a sixth sense. A sense that told him something was going to happen tonight as he rounded a bend, the moonlight cutting through the trees.

As he finished going through the bend, He saw a body on the road! Manuel pulled over and turned his hazards on. He got out of the car and walked up. What came into his view shocked him! A human-sized, anthropomorphic mouse, in biker clothes, with antennas! It had tawny-colored fur and the biker attire it was wearing consisted of a black, studded vest, blue jeans, and black biker boots, along with metal knee pads and tinted specs of all things!

"What the hell?!" Manuel said, thinking it was some sort of costume as he walked forward. As he closed the distance, he saw it wasn't even close to a costume. The mouse's fur blew back and forth in the mountain breeze that cut through the treetops, as blood ran from a wound in the Mouse's side. This clearly was no joke. The mouse was hurt. Besides the obvious injuries, its right leg was limp and looked broken. But nothing could prepare Manuel for what happened next: The mouse spoke!

"Help... Help me..." The mouse said with a pained breath, before losing consciousness.

Manuel panicked. At first, he wasn't sure what to do as he froze on the spot. He looked around for a few seconds, hoping for some prankster or someone to jump out and scream "Psych!" but it didn't happen. Oh, god! Manuel thought as he looked at the battered Mouse-man. What do I do? Manuel then mentally kicked himself for delaying. This guy's hurt! I can't just stand here like an idiot while he bleeds out! He ran back to the car, his heart racing, looking for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. He carried an emergency kit in the car for winter in case the car got stuck in the snow or some other emergency. He got out the kit and found some tape bandages, antiseptic, liquid and string stitches, a needle, and other things. He got out, and administered first aid the best he could, sewing shut the major wounds, then he patched up the rest. Manuel wiped the blood off his hands with a rag after he had done all he could. His nerves were shot, but he tried to force himself to keep his cool. Which he was failing at. He looked around, and then called out, "Hello? Is anyone else here?!"