Disclaimer: I don't own the Biker Mice and am making no profit from them. I wrote this for the enjoyment of others
The girl ran through the alleys of Chicago trying to lose her pursuers.
She had been spying on the group of boys to find out where they had been
hiding the money they'd stolen from some of the stores. She could hear them
running behind her. She was about half a block ahead of them but they were
"Come back here!" one of them said. He was about eighteen and looked big for his age. There were four others with him, ages 16, 17. The one who yelled at her was their leader and he was bleeding from a slash down his left arm.
She ran around a corner, into the street and ran into someone big. "Whoa there, little one," a male voice said. She looked up and saw a large, gray mouse with red antenna.
"I...I'm sorry, sir," she said as she slowly backed away in fear. She heard noises behind her and quickly turned to find the boys turning the same corner. She started to run again but the gray mouse caught her and put her on the motorcycle that was with him.
"Hold on there," he said. "What's wrong?" Without a work she pointed at the boys running towards them. He turned his head to look at them then turned it back. "Don't worry," he said to her. He turned completely around, crossed his arms, glowered at the boys and asked, "What do you want?"
The boys stopped and the leader said, "This is none of your business! She has to pay for what she did to me." He held up his forearm and showed the cut.
"And I'll do it again if you ever mess with me!" the girl shouted to the boy from the motorcycle.
"Why you little...," the boy started forward but the gray mouse barred his way.
"It looks to me you got what you deserve," the mouse told him. "Now, why don't you go and get that taken care of."
The boy glared at the gray mouse and the others behind him began to grumble. "C'mon," the boy said sullenly, then turned around. They walked back the way they had come. A couple of them looked back and glared at the gray mouse, who was still standing there.
When the boys had left, the gray mouse turned to the girl but she was gone. He looked around and saw her ducking down another alley. "Well, lil' darlin', she was a tough scamp," he said to the bike. It revved it's engine in agreement. He went into the store, which was why he was there.
"Hello Modo," the man behind the counter said. He was as tall as Vinnie, about sixty with thick, graying black hair. Salt-n-pepper hair it might be called.
"Hello Mr. Herbert," Modo said coming to the counter. "Did they arrive?"
"Yes, they're in the back," Mr. Herbert said. "I saw that you met Kyrie outside."
"Is that her name?" Modo asked. "Doesn't she have a family?"
"No," Mr. Herbert said, a sad look crossing his face. "They died when she was one. They were a nice couple, had been married five years before they had Kyrie. She looks like her mother with her father's eyes."
"Any other relatives?"
"No," he said.
"Carl? Who are you talking too?" a female voice said from an open door.
"Just Modo, Ellie," Mr. Herbert called back.
A woman came out of the doorway, with a dishtowel in her hands. She was about the same age as Mr. Herbert, with dark , brown hair that was slowly turning gray. "Well, hello Modo," she said with a smile. "How are you doing today?"
"Fine, ma'am," Modo said. "How are you?"
"I'm doing all right," she said.
"We were talking about Kyrie," Mr. Herbert told her.
"Cricket? Sweet child, but hard," she said, wiping her hands on the towel. "She likes to hang around here. She helps out sometimes when I ask her to, but she does like to walk the edge a bit much."
"The boys that hang out at the railroad tracks were chasing her," Mr. Herbert said.
"Again?" she said, surprised.
"I guess she cut the one boy's arm, ma'am," Modo told her.
She shook her head and said, "One of these days she's not going to get away."
"Well, I better be going," Modo said. "Thanks for ordering the rootbeer, Mr. Herbert."
"You're welcome," Mr. Herbert said, leading him into the back. The cases of rootbeer were sitting near the door.
"When you see Charlene, tell her we said `Hi'," Mrs. Herbert told him as he walked out.
"I will ma'am," Modo said, nodding. "Thank you." He put the boxes on the bike and took off for the score board.
The next day, the mice were at Charley's garage. The garage door was open and the bikes were inside. Charley and the mice were in the kitchen where she was making lunch. She still didn't trust them not to demolish it when trying to cook.
The bell announcing a customer rang and Charley said, "Uh oh." She looked at the hot dogs and then at the kitchen door. "Just take the dogs off in a few minutes. I'll be right back," she said to the mice. She went out into the garage and saw a young girl looking at the motorcycles. "Hello," she said to the girl.
"Hi. Is there a big, gray mouse here?" the girl asked.
"Why do you ask?" Charley looked surprised. She didn't think to many people knew the mice hung out here.
"Cause this is his bike," she stated, pointing at Modo's bike.
"Yes, he's here."
"Would you give this to him?" The girl handed Charley a small, brown box.
"I will," Charley said, accepting the box. "Why don't you give it to him yourself?"
"Um...no," she said, walking backwards. "Thank you." She ran out of the garage. Charley walked outside to look for her but she was gone.
Charley came back into the kitchen to find the mice eating. She placed the small box in front of Modo and said, "This is for you. It looks like you have an admirer."
Modo looked at her, surprised. "Admirer?"
"Woo, Modo's got a girlfriend," Vinnie said in a sing-song voice, jabbing him in the arm.
Throttle chuckled and asked Charley, "What did she look like?"
"Well, she was about thirteen, with short, brown hair and brown eyes," she told them.
"Kyrie," Modo said. "Did you see which way she went?"
"No, she had disappeared when I went outside," Charley said. "Whose Kyrie?"
Throttle answered while Modo opened the box. "She's a girl that ran into Modo when he went for a rootbeer run yesterday. She was being chased by some of the boys that hang out at the rail road tracks."
"She managed to cut one of them pretty good too," Modo said, looking up from the box. "I guess she's come up against them a few other times from what the Herberts said."
"No family?" Charley asked.
Modo shook his head. "None that's known." He brought out what was in the box. It was a small, gold cricket encased in a clear, glass ball. The detail was almost perfect all the way to the slender antenna.
"Oh, Modo, that's lovely," Charley said with delight.
There was a note at the bottom of the box. "Thank you," it said.