Dislciamer: I don't own Biker Mice, but I wish I did! Note: This is part of a dead past, part fiery fantasy, and a bit of a romantic heart. All whipped together with a bit of Biker Mice magic, so I hope you enjoy.
He remebered being a child, a newcomer into this world, and seeing
the two people he would call "Mom" and "Dad". He rmemebered
being six years old, and his mother going out for something. He rmembered
waving to her, then incredible pain wrapping around his neck. He heard screaming,
and realized it was his own. His throat was raw, and he screamed. His father
grinning sadistically above him, chianing him to something by the collar
on his neck, and using his sister, over, and over, and over....
Stoker woke with a start, drenched in sweat, icy cold, and shaking like a leaf in a gale. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand roughly, trying to shake the dream from his over-worked mind. Still caught in the icy claws of the nightmare, he slid out of bed and headed for the shower. He washed his fur furiously, like he was washing away memories. He climbed out of the shower, and grabbed a towel. He dried his fur just as furiously as he had washed it, dried it until he felt like a cotton ball, then brushed it out. He walked back into his room in his robe. He eyed himself critically in the mirror. Powerful, muscular shoulders, rippling back muscles, a wiry toughness that had kept his hide alive. Then why wasn't it enough to save Kiely? Absently, he got dressed, his mind on other things, until he was sliding on his shirt. He stopped, and pulled off his shirt. He fingered the backwards L-shaped scar that started at his collar bone on his left side, ran down his chest vertically, and then turned horizonatlly across his stomach. He shivered.
Stoker hurridely finished gettting dressed. He grabbed his boots and ran into the control room, shoving them on. Kickstart ahiled him from the vidcom. "Hey Stoke, did ya hear about what happened last night?"
"No, what?" Stoker asked sarcastically, expecting a joke.
"There was a breakout at the Mons jail. Seems it was a mouse, which is in itself, kinda odd." Kickstart said. Stoker felt all the blood rush out of his face. He grabbed a chair and sank down into it, before he fell down. Kickstart half-rose worriedly, until he shook his head. He hoped no one had noticed.
But someone had. Centerline came over, almost as worried as Kicksart. "Hey, are you alright Stoke? You looked like you'd seen a ghost or somethin'."
"I'm fine, bro, just a little shaken. S'all."
Centerline nodded and went back to the weapons controls. Kickstart watched him leave warily, and then bent closer to him Stoker, and said lowly "What happened?"
Stoker shook his head, and swallowed. "Bro, there was only one mouse at Mons..."
Kickstart's jaw slowly fell open. "You mean...?"
"Yep." Stoker's eyes narrowed. "Rage...is free."
Disclaimer: I don't own BM even though I wish I did. So, no money for
me from this!!
Note: This is the second part of "Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken." You'll get lost real fast if you haven't read part one. Also, this contains graphic violence, use of weapons, and has been rated PG-13. Teen to Adult audiences only.
Stoker was practically flying down the highways,
pushing his bike to the max to get to his mother's house as fast as possible.
Rage, you're mine... his mind seethed. Fury was boiling in a mad
frenzy just beneath the surface of his mind. He screeched to a halt, flinging
gravel from the driveway everywhere.
Kiely raced out of the house with a little squeal. Stoker squeaked in surprise as she attached herself to his neck, with no evidence of letting go anytime soon.
"Hey bright eyes, what's up in this part a' town?" Stoker asked, and patted her on the head. She giggled. Slowly, he pried her fingers from his fur, and set her on the ground. Kie smiled up at him and said, "Momma's in da kitchen, big bro. She says come in as soon as you get here!!" She giggled and pounced on a small lizard that crawled near to her. She picked it up, and petted it. "What'm I gonna name it?" she asked, with her eyes sparkling at the prospect of a new pet.
"Why don't ya name it, uh....How `bout Creepy?" Stoker asked playfully as he crouched down beside her.
"No way! I'm gonna name her..."
"Who ever said it was a her?"
"I did, silly!"
"Oh, okay. And you're gonna name her...?"
"Jasmine." Kie said triumphantly.
Stoker just rolled his eyes, and ruffled her hair up. "Kids." He stood up and brushed off his jeans. "Okay, see ya later, short stuff."
"I am NOT short...." was the last he heard as he disappeared into the kitchen. Stoker tapped on the door frame politely. An aged female mouse looked up at him, a streak of flour across her nose. She smiled dazzlingly, showing some of the beauty she had in youth, and dropped her bowl. She ran to her son with open arms.
"Oh, my little boskie! You come back!" She said in a thick accent as she hugged Stoker around the neck. He chuckled and lifted her up for a real hug, squeezing her hard.
"Nice ta see you too, Mom. So how goes the cooking?"
"Cooking? Who ever said dat Ah was a-cooking? Show me da bum, and Ah'll slap him silly!"
Stoker chuckled and picked up a dish cloth. "Well, let's see. I come in, and the kitchen's a wreck, you're wrestling with batter, and there's flour on your nose. I say that you're cookin'." He wiped the flour off his mom's nose.
"Ye, well, you justa jealous cause you canna cook!"
"Yes, you. You gotta be de ONLY mouseki dat Ah know dat burns Terran Jell-o." She grinned and poked him in the chest. Stoker razzed her. She grinned at him.
Stoker's mother was a mouse from the Southern Cayenne Swamps, a true Cajun mouse. She had a thick mane of jet black, a beautiful mass that was now thickly streaked with silver, and pale cream fur, which was quite striking with her bright green eyes. She was called `Momma' by almost everyone, but her real name was Raven, for her jet-colored hair. She had a mean wild streak, one that had saved her's and her children's lives, once long ago. She had a pale scar that ran from her right eyebrow down her cheek to the point of her jaw, a sad relic from long ago. She grinned fiendishly. Stoker chuckled and went to go put his bike in garage.
"Hey! Where do ye think YOU'RE goin, mousekie?" Raven asked.
"Gotta put m'bike in garage, I'll be back, don't worry!" He called back.
"Yeh, sure ye are..!"
Stoker grabbed his dirt-streaked bike, and pulled her into the garage. He smiled at her, and grabbed a rag. He rubbed the dust off her tank, revealing the words "Nightmare" in streaked red letters along the side. He sighed and looked over the rest of her, promising to her to clean her new black paint later. He pulled off his dusty road jacket and flopped it across the seat. Dust, blood red, puffed up in a dark cloud. Stoke smiled. What a bike. Who ever thought that a normal motorcycle could be turned into the finest of hover-bikes? What a beauty. Man, even those MICE don't have MY baby! So nya! He grinned at his own childish thoughts. Some mice dream of flying, and some, of falling. I do both. He put his prototype force-field goggles onto his bike's seat, and left her sitting in the shade. He walked back into the house through the garage, and kicked off his dusty road boots at the door. He could hear Raven arguing with the bowl from the hallway. He blinked, and the scene shifted.
His eyes were wild as the thunderstorm that raged outside. He clutched
the kitchen knife in his hand, his knuckles white as they gripped the hilt
of the blade. He inched down the hall, quiet as a rikei. He heard the rough
snoring of his `father' echoing down the hall. He crept into the darkened
room, still clutching the blade. He crept closer to that dark hated form,
vulnerable as it was, asleep, oblivious to everything. He raised the blade.
A hand caught his wrist in a crushing grip. He yelped in pain. "Thought you could get rid of your old man, did ye, boy?" Putrid breath wafted into his face. He choked, and tried to wrench free of the hand. An evil laugh rumbled through his bones, and another hand gripped the knife by the blade, and yanked it out of his hand. He smelled fresh blood. He closed his eyes. He was going to die. The hand that was holding his wrist held him up off the floor, and he had no where to go but against the knife now. His eyes snapped open. NO!
He swung up, and kicked his father in the jaw, stunning him for a moment. Long enough. He wrenched free and dropped to the ground in a controlled tumble. A burning pain ripped across his shoulder. That only made him madder. He leaped up, and spun around to face Rage. And dove at him.
The last thing he remembered was hearing the blade hit his rib, and feeling a terrible pain cross his stomach. And then, crashing to the floor, blood flowing everywhere..his world shrinking into a soda straw while he heard Rage laughing above him....
"...oker. Hey BRO!" Some one was shaking him. "Hey! Wake
He grabbed the hands that gripped his shoulders and blinked at their owner, until his mind remembered that it was the present, and not the past. "Kiely?" She looked very worried.
"What happened, bro? Are you alright?" She WAS very worried.
"Ye..yeah, I just kinda drifted off...."
"You don't look so good. Are you SURE you're all right?"
"Yeah, just let me sit down...."
"You were thinking again about...that...weren't you?" Kiely asked worriedly.
He put his head in his hands and nodded mutely. She patted his head sadly. He walked over to his favorite leather chair and sank down in it, too depressed to move. Kie walked up behind the chair, and massaged his shoulders. "Hey, it'll be okay, bro, just wait and see." She said soothingly.
Perversely enough, it only seemed to ruffled his temper more. He narrowed his eyes and rose slowly. A slow fury began to creep into his mind....
"Heya boskie, Ah'm a goin to da store, so youse stay here with ye sister, alright??" Raven asked as she walked into the hallway. The darkness cleared from Stoker's vision and he smiled at his mother.
"All right, Momma, but you take care of yerself." He hugged her. Kie came up and hugged Raven to, and she smiled softly.
"Damn ye boskies, ye both know how ta get on me good side. Ah'll be right back, s'okay?"
"See ya soon." Both Stoker and Kie waved as she sauntered out the door. "So, kiddo, what are we gonna do now?" Stoke as her. Kie giggled "Well I just got a new movie from Uncle Streax. He brought it back from Terran!!"
"Well, what did ya get?"
"THE LITTLE MERMAID!!!"
Stoker groaned. It was gonna be a loooooong night.
30 minutes later....
Kiely climbed up on the couch beside the snoring Stoker and tugged on his shirt sharply. He woke almost instantly.
"Wha..? What is little kiddo??" He asked worriedly as he saw the terror in her eyes. She shook her head and pointed back down the darkened hall, toward the bedrooms. He raises an eyebrow quizzically. She shook her head violently and tugged on his shirt and pointed again. He shrugged, and stood up, with her still clinging to his leg.
"Sweetie, if I'm gonna go and see what that noise was, you're gonna have to let me go, okay? I'll be right back." She freed his leg very reluctantly and nodded. He gave her a dazzling smile and walked down the halls, his heart pounding. I knew this would happen, I knew Rage would come back here! And he knew something else. Rage was clever, very very clever. It made almost diabolical sense. He spun around and flew down the hall, toward the living room. He almost stopped dead in his tracks when he heard her screaming. Almost. His heart throbbed and his pulse raced, and he flew into he hall, only to find a note on the floor. He picked it up.
If ye want er back, come and get er. If ye not to chicken. Come on, let's play a little game of hide and seek.
He shredded the note. The last slips of paper hadn't even hit the floor before he was out the door, and flying down the road on his bike, looking for tracks.
He slowed to a halt. The search had been futile. Where in the hell could
he have taken her? He finally took a minute to look around. The Temples
of the Goddesses?? How the hell did I wind up here? And why did I come here?
Well, maybe I can find help here..... He slid off his bike and walked
inside one of the Temples, pushing the heavy, dusty bronze door open just
enough for him to slip through. He slowly walked to the alter, where he
knelt with his head bowed. Please, please let her be alive. If she's
alive I can save her-
"YOU WISH TO FIND THE GIRL." His thought was abruptly cut off by an overwhelming voice that surged into his brain.
His head flew up.
"DO NOT LOOK AT ME, OR YOU WILL BE BLINDED FOR ALL TIME."
He closed his eyes, and hung his head once more. Watch what you ask for-
"INDEED, YOU MIGHT JUST GET IT. YOU ASKED FOR MY HELP. YOU WISH TO FIND THIS GIRL THAT IS YOUR SISTER?"
"AND WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO SACRIFICE ALL YOU HAVE GAINED TO SAVE HER?"
"THE ONE WHO YOU ARE SEARCHING FOR HAS DEFILED OUR TEMPLES. HE HAS ALSO DEFILED YOUR SISTER. IF YOU RID US OF HIM, WE WILL ASK NOTHING OF YOU. WEAR THIS RING, AND WHEN YOU NEED THE POWER, IT SHALL BE THERE. ALL YOU NEED DO IS TO ASK."
"But HOW do I..?" But the Presence was gone. In Its place was a silver ring, with a shimmering red stone set in it. He picked it up, and it glowed in his hand. He hesitated. And put it on. When you need it...Well I need it NOW and it ain't doin shit! He sighed.
As he walked out of the Temple, he felt a tingling akin to the touch of electricity in his hand. He glanced down at his hand and stared in awe. His hand was covered in blood red scales, and his nails were replaced with massive heavy silver claws. He lifted his hand and smiled. Perhaps this baby is gonna come in handy after all....
Mac felt an odd tingling creeping up his spine. He shivered. Something
was wrong, very, very wrong. He could feel it in his gut. His eyes narrowed.
He slowly turned, and stared out the window at the approaching thunderheads.
A storm was coming.
Kickstart froze, and winced as fearsome thunder cracked overhead. He raced to a window, and gaped at the scene before him. Icy winds whipped sand around in massive dust devils, and awesome lightning ripped the dark night sky.
Holy hell, moons of Mars.....
An incredible silhouette stood defiantly against the winds. Stoker's
long hair whipped behind him, and his silver eyes shimmered. His skin-tight
leather outfit clung close to his muscular form, and the flashing lightning
outline him in every detail. For the moment, he was deceptively calm. He
made an incredible picture against the cloud-torn sky. And only one other
mouse saw it.
I'll kill him.
Stoker watched the winds whip the sands across Satchka. How appropriate. Death's Courtyard. He laid a hand on Nightmare's gas tank for a moment, savoring the warmth radiating into his hand. Then he leaped into her seat, and revved her to red line. He blasted the throttle wide open, and flew down the dune at breakneck speed. His mind concentrated on only one thing. Finding Kiely. Finding Rage. He saw nothing else.
He never saw the lithe figure of a female mouse rush to the crest of the dune.
The storm was kicking up hard, winds slashing across the dunes. No sabersquid, not now, not while the storm was brewing. They were all underground, safe in their lairs. The winds were making hover-drive almost impossible. Stoke slowed Nightmare to a halt, and flipped open her control panel. He flipped the green switch. Immediately, the bike's hover lowered her to the ground, and the hover strip retracted. The heavy metal-studded tires slid down into the tire hubs, snapping in place with an audible click. Stoker blasted her all out again, flying between massive sands dunes, and jagged peaks of rock as he flew through the Tatiana Mountains that rested just at the edge of Satchka. The Lady! That's the last place...the last place I haven't checked! That's GOTTA be where he, no, THEY are!!! Thunder crashed overhead. He roared into the ancient streets the Lady.
The rain began to drizzle, and then it pounded down on the Lady mercilessly. Stoker stopped just under the precipice of an old ruined building, and took his force-field goggles off. He shook out his rain and sweat-soaked mane, and parked his bike. He walked out into the slashing rain, almost to be immediately soaked to the skin. He shook his head, and began to walk down the street slowly.
The trail was still fresh, despite the rain. He sniffed carefully, following the smell of terror into a long deserted building. A metal door stood in his way.
"This is Kickstart, calling the Biker Mice, do you read, come in, come in..."
Throttle snatched the radio com up.
"Yeah, this is Throttle, come back bro."
"Man, am I glad to hear you! We got some majors problems up here."
"Don't get yer tail in a knot. Nothin like a war or anything, but we do need yer help, pronto!"
"Ya know Rage?"
"DAMMIT!" Throttle exploded. Silence reigned across the room and comlink. The Kickstart said something utterly unbelievable.
"Stoker went after him this time."
Modo stood and walked over to the CB, with Vinnie and Charley following close behind.
Throttle didn't say anything for a moment. "What's wrong then?"
Silence. "All we have now, on either Rage or Stoke, is a blood trail."
"That's not a good sign."
"No, it ain't, considering that we haven't heard from Stoker in two weeks. This are starting to get damn itchy up here.. Yesterday, guess what got delivered to MY garage. A note, and all it said was that we'll never see neither Stoke or Kie again. I know this sounds small, but you don't know.."
"How bad Rage is? Yeah, I know." Modo said softly.
Silence for a moment.
"We have Limburger under wraps for a while, so we'll be up there in a few, bro, so hang tight." Throttle said finally.
"Thanks, bros, yer the only ones who can do anything now. This is Kickstart, out."
Throttle put the com back on its hook, and turned to Modo, Charley, and Vinnie. "Well, now what do we do?"
Stoker stared at the metal door for a long while, and then pressed his
ear up against it. Muffled voices could be heard. One, a deep tenor, probably
male, sounded harsh and unforgiving, and cruel. The second, it was a voice
of a little girl, unmistakable even through the metal.
"..he's gonna come and get you!" he heard, and then the dull sound of flesh hitting flesh, hard. His eyes flared, but he listened a moment longer.
"Yer brother," the voice said, "is too much of a wimp to face me!" The voice turned mocking. "OH, Stoker's gonna get you!" An evil laugh. "it'll be a cold day in Satchka when he finally faces his old man." The voice cackled.
That did it. Stoker roared a full-blown battle cry, and slammed his shoulder against the door, HARD. Muffled sounds of scrambling echoed through the door. He rammed the door again. It didn't even budge. This isn't gettin anywhere.... Those heavy silver claws grew along his hands and feet again, and he slammed them into the door itself, bracing his feet on either side of the door. And pulled as hard as he could. His muscles strained. They screamed at him to stop. He only pulled harder.
He heard something crack, and felt an agonizing pain rip through his left knee a second later. He gasped in pain, and redoubled his efforts. The hinges of the door began to heave. Beads of sweat soaked his hair and fur, and rained into his eyes, blinding him. His right shoulder began to strain. POP! He yelped as it popped out of joint, and as his left elbow began to feel the same. It popped as well, shredding the flesh and fur around it. Finally, just before he couldn't take the pain anymore, the door flew off its hinges and out of his hands, slamming into his forehead, and falling behind him somewhere, crashing through lighter, more fragile items. He crouched on the ground, gasping in pain. He caught his breath. Slowly, he looked into the room. Empty. Again.
He moaned, and fell onto the ground on his back. He stared up at the reeling ceiling, trying to focus. His shoulder, fix that first. He struggled to his good knee, and spread his hand out on the ground. He leaned on it hard, and his shoulder snapped sharply back into place, sending spots of red and black through his vision for a breath. He looked at his left elbow, and became ill. There was no way of fixing that. He reached down and touched his swollen knee. A cracked kneecap. Lovely. His head throbbed where the door had hit him. Probably a concussion. He rested his all-too-heavy head on to ground for a minute, taking deep breaths. Then he crawled slowly, painfully into the empty room.
A bit of cloth lay on the ground. He picked it up. It was off Kie's jacket. He curled his hand into a fist, hiding the cloth. Then the room spun, and blackened. His last thought..
Rex leaped from balk to balk in the skies of the Lady. He had seen some
disturbance down below, and a door crashing out from a hallway. His curious
side told his to go and look, and his gut told him that whatever it was,
it wasn't good. He finally swung down from a pole, landing lightly on his
feet. Blood, some of it old, dry, and a rusty-brown color, spread out on
the floor, but most of it was fresh, and crimson red. He slowly walked toward
a room where there was more blood and a tail flowing out of the door frame.
He crept against the wall, and leaned out to look inside. He jerked back,
feel on his butt, and scrambled backward, swearing vehemently. He ran toward
the nearest comlink, and ripped the connection wide open.
"Come in, anyone, at HQ!" He yelled across the com.
"Here." Akain Macloud's voice rippled across the airwaves.
"I found him! Hurry, he ain`t gonna make it much longer!"
Continued Part 3 "Broken"............