Biker Mice From Mars - Breaking The Habit

This Is Not How It's Supposed To Go

A flash of light.
Red sand.
A familiar scent.

Vinnie and his bike hit the ground hard, but he pushed himself up immediately, spitting Martian dust from his mouth.

"Modo! Modo, are you okay, bro?" he asked, his voice tight with worry as he scanned the immediate area.

He then let out a breathy, relieved laugh when he saw his grey-furred brother lying in the sand nearby.
Modo's fur was standing straight up in every direction from the massive electrical surge he had just channeled, but he looked alright.

"Whoa... Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," Modo grunted, reaching back to flatten the static-charged fur on his tail.
He paused, squinting through the dust at the rust-colored horizon.
"Hey, we made it!"

Throttle was already standing, reaching down to grab a handful of the dry, red sand.
He let the grains pour slowly through his fingers, watching them dance in the thin Martian wind.
"Mars... after all this time..."

"We're home..." Vinnie whispered.
He stood next to Throttle, staring out at the vast, red desert stretching out before them.

"Sorry to leave this touchy scene, but I'm afraid it is time for me to get rolling," a familiar voice interrupted.

They turned just in time to see Limburger—still bound and trapped in the sidecar—start to roll down the steep hill they were standing on, gaining speed with every second.

Vinnie cocked his head, a small, dangerous smile curling his lips.
"Hm. Not exactly a model prisoner, is he?"

He looked at his brothers, the familiar wild spark returning to his eyes.

"But this time, we've got the home-court advantage!" Throttle smiled back.

In one fluid motion, they jumped onto their bikes, snapping their helmets into place.
They revved their engines, the roar echoing across the dunes, and started the chase.
But as Limburger reached the top of the next hill, he suddenly pulled a hard U-turn, heading back toward them with a haunted, wide-eyed look on his face.

"Waaooww, quick turnaround time," Vinnie called out surprised as he hit his brakes.

"I wonder what's making the Big Cheese so anxious for our company," Throttle mused, watching the fish speeding back toward the mice he had just been trying to escape.

They got their answer a second later.
Massive robots came into view, towering machines of rusted steel that walked on long, mechanical legs.
High atop the main chassis of each machine sat a deep, metal bucket-like cockpit, and sitting in them, steering the robots...

"Sandraiders," Throttle grumbled, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

As Limburger's sidecar drifted past them, Modo reached out with his bionic arm, snagging the unit mid-roll and holding it steady while Throttle re-attached it to his bike.

"Battle mode, bros!"

With a zooming sound, their cannons came out of their hiding spots.

"Ugh. Those slave-driving sand scum..." Vinnie growled, his hands tightening on the throttle.

Throttle glanced down at the scared fish trembling in the sidecar.
"Fasten your seatbelts, you slimy cheeseball! We're heading into turbulence!"

Limburger looked up, absolutely paralyzed with shock as the massive walkers loomed over them, the Sandraiders in their iron buckets silhouetted against the Martian sun.
He tried to make himself as small as possible in the cramped sidecar.
"Oh dear..."

The mice revved their bikes and opened fire.

"Those sand-fleas ain't taking us as slaves!" Vinnie yelled, his thumb steady on the laser trigger as blue bolts flew toward the walkers' joints.