Love of Mars

Chapter 8

The Biker Mice rode up to the garage the following day but immediately stopped short at the sight that met them.

The garage door was busted, hanging off it's hinges. The workshop was a mess, a clear sign of a struggle.

Vinnie jumped off his racer immediately, calling out frantically. "Charley? Charley-girl? Sweetheart?"

"They're not here Vinnie." Throttle had assessed the wreckage and seen Stella's laptop. A new recording showing on the screen. The image was grainy but clear enough: the garage, Charley struggling and being drugged, Stella being grabbed and tased, Limburger's goons behind it all. 

The recording stopped and for a few seconds, no one said anything.

Then the air in the room changed.

Vinnie slammed his fist onto the worktop. "They took Charley."

Modo's good eye narrowed. "And Stella."

Throttle didn't say anything at first. He just stared at the frozen last frame where Stella was being held by one of the goons, her body limp and her hands restrained. Modo crossed his arms. 

"This ain't random. Limburger planned this." Vinnie started pacing. 

"Okay so we go in, we smash some heads, we get the girls, we're done. Simple."

"Limburger's never simple nowadays," Modo replied.

Throttle finally spoke, voice low and controlled. "He didn't just grab the girls by accident. Something bigger is afoot."

Vinnie stopped pacing and looked at Throttle. "Doesn't matter what he wants. Nobody messes with Charley."

Throttle's jaw tightened slightly. Or Stella.

Modo noticed that. He didn't say anything, but he definitely noticed. The big guy was more perceptive than he was given credit for.

Vinnie smirked just a little. "Ohhh, I see how it is."

Throttle shot him a look. "Not now, Vincent."

"What? I'm just saying, you got that real serious leader vibe going on right now."

Throttle stepped closer to the laptop, staring at Stella's frozen image again. "This is on us."

Modo shook his head. "No. This is on Limburger. It's always on that stinking slob-fish."

Vinnie grabbed his helmet off the table. "So what's the plan, oh fearless leader?" Throttle turned to them, all business now, but there was still an edge in his voice.

"We find out where Limburger is holding them." 

Modo cracked his metal fingers. "Then we go get 'em."

Vinnie grinned, but it wasn't his usual playful grin. "And anybody in our way is gonna have a very bad night." Throttle glanced one more time at the frozen image of Stella putting his helmet on and getting back on his bike.

"Hang on, Charley," Vinnie muttered as he revved his bike. The engines roared to life.

Somewhere across the city, Limburger had no idea just how big a mistake he'd made.

.

.

.

During the night the girls had been moved to a laboratory and then separated. Stella had been strapped to a metal table placed upright, her ankles and wrists strapped in place. Looking around, it was your stereotypical lab; equipment racks, bright overhead lights that were just a little too bright, sterile smell that mixed horribly with the stench of Limburger and his goons.