Fine Brandy Chapter 1

The wall behind Stoker exploded. He ducked and ran through the flying debris. Laser bolts screamed past him as the Death Squad opened fire. Beakers and test tubes rained down and smashed on the floor, adding broken glass to the other hazards of the half-destroyed laboratory. He dived behind a filing cabinet and heard Rimfire cry out. Stoker glanced around the edge of the cabinet to see where Rimfire was. He saw Rimfire’s legs disappear behind a desk and frowned at the bloody trail on the floor.

"You ok, kid?" Stoker yelled over the sounds of the fire-fight.

A Plutarkian came around the corner of the L-shaped room into his sights and Stoker fired automatically. The Plutarkian dropped; dead or alive, Stoker had no idea. He heard swearing from Rimfire's direction.

"Damn! Shot clipped my knee, I can't put any weight on it."

Stoker grinned and let loose a barrage of shots. He took advantage of the brief respite from enemy fire and flung himself across the room to join Rimfire. He made it behind the desk just before a flurry of return fire blazed across the intervening space. He sent a volley back to the source.

Rimfire tore off his shirt and tied it tightly around his knee. Stoker kept the squad at bay with periodic fire. He scanned the room, looking for a quick exit.

"So much for a fast in-and-out raid," said the older mouse, chuckling.

Rimfire opened his mouth to reply when a grenade flew over the desk and bounced at their feet. Stoker grabbed Rimfire by his scruff and ran.

Bolts of energy screamed around him as he dragged Rimfire across the floor. Rimfire cursed but Stoker wasn’t about to stop. He heard, rather than felt the blast as it caught him and flung him across the room and into blackness.

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In the Last Chance Garage, Charlene "Charley" Davidson had just turned off the downstairs light and was walking up the stairs to bed when she heard a low hum. A sudden flash of light cast dark shadows on the wall in front of her. Charley froze. She moved stealthily back down the stairs. Images of various ruffians that she had faced rose in her mind and she looked around for a weapon. She grabbed a vase from the table in the hall. Not much, but better than nothing. She slipped down the hall and peered around the corner into the garage.

A bulky figure crouched on the floor in the middle of the garage, propped up on its hands and one knee, swearing quietly and viciously. Another very still figure lay behind it. Charley raised the vase.

"Alright, scum! Get out of here!" she shouted as she flipped on the light. The figure on its knees looked up at her and smiled sheepishly. "Hey Charley, a little help here?"

"Rimfire?" She put the vase down on top of a toolbox and rushed across to him. Rimfire sat up as she approached, and began to untie what looked like his shirt from around his knee. Charley reached down to help him.

"I got it, Charley. Check on Stoke for me, will you?"

Charley nodded and moved over to Stoker, who was lying face down beside Rimfire. She rolled him onto his back, grunting with the effort. One side of his face was sticky with blood and as she parted the fur, she saw a long gash near his temple.

"What happened?" she said.

"We bounced off a wall," grunted Rimfire, grimacing as he prodded his knee. He glanced at Stoker. "He ok?"

"I don't know." Charley glanced at Rimfire's bloody knee. "I'm going to call the guys. Hang on for a second."

Charley moved quickly towards the radio but halfway there, changed her mind and headed for the kitchen. Her first-aid kit sat on a shelf in easy reach. She jogged back to Rimfire, trying to remember if she had restocked it recently.

"See what you can clean up, ok?" said Charley, dropping the kit beside Rimfire and walking back to the radio.

“Charley calling the biker mice. Charley calling the biker mice. Are you there, guys?”

“Babe! Couldn’t last five minutes without me, huh?”

Charley rolled her eyes.

“We’re here, Charley-girl,” said Throttle in his smoky voice. “What’s up? Trouble?”

“Visitors. I have Rimfire and Stoker in my garage, in poor shape. Can you come back?”

“We-all will be there soon, Charley ma’am,” said Modo firmly.

Charley ducked down the hall and into the bathroom. She grabbed some clean towels and filled a bowl with warm water. When she returned to the garage, Rimfire was tearing into a pack of sterile swabs. He grinned at her.

“All ready, nurse Charley?” he teased.

Charley poked her tongue at him and knelt down beside Stoker. She folded a towel and placed it under Stoker's head before wetting the corner of another towel and trying to clean some of the blood from Stoker's fur. She was in the wrong position however, so she moved around behind him and placed his head on her lap. She gently cleaned the blood from around the wound, her fingers exploring the extent of the damage. She glanced over at Rimfire and noticed him examining his knee with a pensive expression.

"Is it bad?"

"It’s not good. Messy," he said, moving his knee and wincing. "Ouch."

Charley heard the roar of the bikes in the distance.

"That was quick," said Rimfire.

"They'd only left a few minutes before you arrived."

The garage doors opened and the bikes roared in and slid to a halt. Modo was first off, moving quickly to his nephew's side. Throttle crouched down beside Charley and Stoker. Vinnie stood between them, bending down to examine Rimfire's knee.

"Nice mess ya got there, kid," Vinnie said, peering interestedly at the wound.

"Thanks," said Rimfire dryly.

Modo glared at Vinnie, grabbed the swabs from Rimfire and began cleaning the bloody wound.

"So what happened?" said Throttle.

"Well, we ran a quick raid on the local Plutarkian base. Unfortunately there was a- ow- Death Squad in residence..."

"A what?" asked Charley.

"A Death Squad," said Throttle, fingers probing the bloody wound on Stoker's head. He straightened up, wiping his hands on a towel. "Plutark's best forces. Military training and bio-enhancements, they're a cut above the regular soldiers. They're built for base raids, cleaning out "unwanteds" from an area."

"Unwanteds such as ourselves," Vinnie said.

"Lucky for us there aren't many of them," rumbled Modo.

"Lucky, all right. They know exactly where the weak points in a base's defences are. Freedom fighter bases are always targets for a death squad," Throttle said, frowning.

"So what happened then?" said Modo.

"Well, we got trapped in the lab and my knee got hit. Someone lobbed a grenade at us and we had to run for it. We got caught in the blast and Stoker took a hit to the head when we smacked into the wall. I couldn't carry him, I could barely move myself. So I dragged us to the nearest transport booth and we zapped out."

"But why here?" said Throttle. "Not that we don't like to see you, kid, but why didn't you go back to base?"

Rimfire grinned lopsidedly. "Well, the truth is...these were the only coordinates I could remember at the time."

Vinnie and Throttle burst out laughing. Modo yanked his nephew's ear.

"Ow! Hey, look, I don't exactly use those things every day, you know."

"They'll be wondering where you are at base," said Throttle.

"Yeah, I know."

"Guys," Charley interrupted. Stoker blinked and opened his eyes. He looked dazedly up at Charley, a half-smile on his face.

"Hey there," said Charley softly.

"Def'n'tly th' way t' w'ke up," he slurred. He closed his eyes and lost consciousness again.

"That's it?" said Vinnie. He crossed his arms. "You'd think he could put a little more effort in."

"Not his best performance, that's for sure." Throttle glanced at the two injured mice. "We can't really move them, Charley-girl. Got any ideas?"

"I've already thought about that. Put Rimfire upstairs in the spare room and Stoker in my bed. I'll move onto the couch for a few days."

Throttle frowned. "We can't ask you do that, Charley."

"Yes, you can. And I'll fit on there a lot better than any of you big lugs would."

"Too true," chuckled Throttle. "Alright guys, let's get this plan in motion."

"You're really missing the action, aren't you?" said Vinnie, bending down to help Modo with Rimfire.

"It's driving me insane. If Limburger doesn't do something in the next 24 hours, I may have to get a hobby."