Biker Mice from Mars - Mountain Drift

Chapter 2: Living Witness

The Next Day...

6:00 AM...

Manuel woke up when the alarm clock he placed on the floor went off. A light was starting to shine in through the apartment window. It was six o'clock, the crack of dawn. He lazily slammed his hand on the clock, shutting off the alarm with a groan. He knew straight from the start, that he was going to need some extra-strong coffee to get through today. He then got up out of his sleeping bag, stretching out in his pajamas, which consisted of a pair of green-plaid flannel pants and a t-shirt. He heard Throttle yawning as well. He turned around and saw him starting to wake up as well.

"What do you guys eat?" He asked. "Can you eat human food?"

"Yeah. To be honest, it's not that different than what we ate on Mars." Throttle responded, stretching out as best he could, taking care not to strain his stitched-up areas.

"Wait... You're from Mars?" Manuel raised an eyebrow, walking into the nearby kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm from Mars, and yes, it had life on it, and still does." Throttle answered. "Though most of us were wiped out from the Plutarkian occupation."

"So... you were invaded?" Manuel asked as he got some eggs out of the fridge and set them on the counter as he got out a frying pan and a bowl.

"Yeah." Throttle said, anger flashing in his eyes as Manuel started up a coffee maker. "The Plutarkians had used up all their natural resources on their planet, so they go around strip-mining the cosmos. They manipulated our government into buying up land on our planet and shipped it back to theirs."

"Yikes! Well, that certainly explains why NASA's little rovers haven't found anything there..." Manuel said, cracking open the eggs. "So, what brought you here?"

Throttle then explained all his adventures with Modo and Vinnie when they were in Chicago with Charley Davidson. He explained after their latest adventure, where they thought their adversary, a Plutarkian named Lawrence Limburger, had perished from a malfunction with something called a "Tug Transformer," that they were getting ready to head back to Mars, but were shot down by something, explaining every haunting detail of the ship breaking up in the atmosphere. He didn't even know who shot the ship down.

Manuel couldn't help but be intrigued as he listened to Throttle's escapades. Granted, he was uneasy, too, considering Throttle was not at all from this planet. But in the end, he felt sorry for Throttle. He wanted to help him out more but didn't know where to start. In the end, he let the feelings of dread slide off his shoulders for now and scrambled up the eggs in the pan. Once they had cooked, Manuel split the eggs between two plates. He walked back into the room and gave one to Throttle with a fork.

"So, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?" Throttle asked, taking a bite. "Might as well know some about the guy who saved my life."

Manuel looked surprised. "Me? I'm afraid there's not much to tell. I was emancipated when I was fifteen. That was eight years ago. My mom wouldn't take care of me; I had to learn to take care of myself. And dad was always away. They also fought a lot. The courts declared my parents unfit to raise me and gave me my rights as an adult. Since then, I've lived here. A mechanic took me under his wing, and after I got out of school, I've been fixing up cars and motorcycles. The shop, ironically enough, is called Throttle works. Dad's also trying to settle down here, starting a delivery business between here and Bogus Basin, which he hired me for, along with several other people."

Throttle then remembered! His motorcycle! Did it survive the crash? Or was it now nothing but chunks of twisted scrap metal buried under the ship's wreckage?

Manuel noticed the worried look In Throttle's eyes behind his specs. "Is something wrong?"

"...We can talk about it later. You said you had to go to work?" Throttle asked.

"Yeah, I need to be ready and gone by seven," Manuel said, picking up a watch from the nightstand and putting it on. He went into the other room and came back with a pair of crutches. "Here, these will help you get around the apartment if you're feeling strong enough to walk. It was the best I could get, I couldn't find a wheelchair." Manuel set the crutches by the bed.

"Thanks." Throttle said with a smile. "I shouldn't have that big of a problem. I've been through worse."

"Just be careful, and please don't leave the apartment. My neighbors might freak out if they saw you wandering around outside, and whoever shot you down is no doubt still out there." Manuel then finished his share of eggs, grabbed some clothes out of a dresser drawer, and walked through the kitchen into the bathroom to start his morning routine.

Meanwhile, on Interstate 65...

Vinnie was on the road with Charley. He was the only one who had the luck of crash-landing near Chicago. Charley saw the whole thing, though she was just as puzzled as to who could have shot them down since Limburger was out of commission. Vinnie wasn't that badly hurt, thank god, and now they were out searching for Modo and Throttle. They found Modo's tracking signal was somewhere in Florida. Throttle was nowhere near that area, though. He was in Idaho, in the Boise area, near a place called Bogus Basin.

They were going to go find Modo first. He was closer, so they figured it would be quicker to find him.

"I hope they're both okay," Vinnie whispered as he rode in the truck, his bike in the back. He wasn't his usual, cocky, overconfident happy self. No words needed to be said on if he was alright, the expression on his face said it all. He was down and scared. He always had Throttle and Modo around. What if something happened to one of them? Or worse, what if they were dead? Charley had no doubt that was going through Vinnie's mind.

"It's going to be okay, Vinnie," Charley said, knowing all too well that Vinnie was still recovering from the shock of the crash. He was the youngest of the three, after all.

"It's just hard not to think about it, sweetheart..." Vinnie said, his eyes tearing up as he looked out the window of the truck as the sun rose up over the horizon.