Note: This is written in fun and in no way am I making money from it. The Biker Mice are owned by Tom Tataronowicz, but any fanfics characters and places not owned by other writers are owned by me. Permission is needed to use any of them for any other writing than my own.
Note: This story is set during the Survivors log saga, only months after Lady Brier-Rose has been found. It's written in first person, from the view of Axel's younger sister.

From a different point of view

Written by Blaze Van Wham 2000

Copyright Blaze Van Wham 2000, all rights reserved

Hi. Name's Leona. I'm a bartender at the only bar on Mars: Midnight's Child. It's late hours and some of the patrons can be annoying, especially when drunk. But the pay ain't bad, and I need as much money to pay off debts. Anyway, I've had a number of interesting aliens enter tha bar. I've heard stories of remorse, tales of adventure and myths of battles never fought. But the one that caught my eyes was a certain young one, just turned nineteen.
    She walked in, looking kinda scraggly, her hair a mess but her clothes and anything else on her looking intact. She entered alone, her eyes seeming to scan for someone, an enemy, someone who wanted to kill her maybe. I don't know, but she neared the counter and sat down. She brought a cigarette out from a pouch on her belt and lit it.
    A few seconds and I neared her. "What would ya like?" I asked, cleaning out a cup for her. Her eyes flickered around for a few seconds, and she stared straight at me.
    "Root beer." Her voice was soft and I could barely hear her above the din in the rest of the bar.
    "You sure, hon?" I asked, walking over to the top containers.
    "Yeah." This time louder, but still very soft. I filled her cup and returned to her spot.
    "Here you go." I said and turned my attention to other patrons.
    "Have you ever smoked?" Her soft voice again over the noise.
    "Smoked? Nah, never had the money. I owe too much to a loan shark."
    I reached for it and asked for a lighter. The young mouse lit it and I took a puff in. I coughed as I breathed out.
    "Takes a while to get used to. I know it took me. I was only two, maybe less when I began." I stared at the mouse. She seemed to age suddenly, looking thirty, forty years old.
    I almost dropped my smoke. "You''re kidding right?"
    "Nope...actually, I don't even remember how I started, just did," she took a sip, "but it's the first thing I remember learning."
    I gasped. This girl had started smoking before the age of two? Didn't matter much to me, I mean, it shouldn't have. I've heard worse. But the way she told it, the way her eyes looked, I couldn't ignore her. It seemed as if I was her journal, and she was telling me her deepest, darkest secrets. She seemed to draw me in a way unconciously.
    "Where did you grow up?" I inquired.
    "Lady Brier-Rose." She stared into her cup, now half-gone. She swished the rest of the liquid around.
    Brier-Rose was a place I had heard about around Midnight's Child. It was a hidden city, beneath sand, and hosted numbers of gangs.
    "You came from there? Have a name, hon?"
    "Shadow." was her simple reply. A light from the dance floor shone quickly on her face. She was a pale tan color with striking navy blue hair. Only one antennae appeared from the mass. Where was the other?
    I reached forward and she turned her head sharply.
    "What happened?"
    "Lost it in a a gang war. It was sliced off." She snapped at me. Her expression changed back and I noticed her glancing over me. She smiled. "You're pretty." She said simply and sipped her root beer.
    "Uh...thanks." I stammered. Now, I get my share of hits, working in a bar an' all. Both women and men. This mouse had just said it, what was the word again? Anyway, I looked into her eyes, trying to read her or somethin', I guess. She didn't look like she was in love with me, but as if I were her sister or mother. Her eyes conveyed sadness, a longing of that parental, family love.
    "Doctor says I only have five years left." I snapped out of my trance.
    "What's the problem?"
    "Lung cancer." She placed her cup on the counter. "Refill. Make it a," she paused, thinking, "something with vodka. Hard vodka."
    I picked her cup up and brought it to the sink. I washed it out and prepared her a drink. I returned to my spot and clunked the cup down in front of her. She snatched it and gulped at least half down. Wiping her mouth, she began,
    "Wanna know I got this way? I was abandoned by my parents when I was an infant. Didn't care much for me.This young chick in the Pack gang found me. Her boss, Rain, didn't like me too much, but she kept me anyway. Until about two, she managed to feed me something. My first memory is one where I'm reachin' for food an' someone stuffs a cigarette in my mouth. I've been dependent on them since them. I don't eat much. So, everythin' was goin' well, until I reached sixteen. Seem their boss, Rain, took a liking to me. I refused to become his slut, but one night," more sips, her voice lowering, "he found where I slept and took me to an abandoned building, where he raped me for his sick pleasure." A tear formed and slid down her fur. She sniffed and continued, "Bastard. He ruined my life, the only family I'd known. My trust in members began to fall, where I couldn't  trust no one no more. I left the gang and stowed away with a group of motorcyclists. And I ended up here."
    All I could do was blink. "My can't believe what you've been through." That forlorn look again.
    "You need a place to stay?" I offered. Her eyes brightened.
    "You got one?"
    "It ain't much, but it'll do. I've only got an hour or so left in my shift. Here, take this and go get yourself a decent supper." I opened her hand and placed some money into it. She faltered.
    "Why are you giving this to me?" She asked. I answered,
    "Because you need it." No reply. Slowly, she stepped out of her chair and walked out of the bar.

    Unfortunately, tht was the las I saw of her. She never returned after that night and I've waited for her almost every shift. But there's no sign of the tan-furred navy blue haired mouse with only one antennae. Been almost five years now. She's probably dead by now, living out her last days in a stingy hospital room, still smoking, no relatives coming to visit her.
    Who really knows though? Whereever she is, whatever she's doing, I hope she remembers who made a difference in her life, and effort to make her feel loved. Whereever you are, Shadow, I love ya hon and there's always some root beer waitin' for you at the Midnight's Child.