Forgiven?
It doesn't matter how long it takes; your consciouss will eat away at you, for everything you've done.
Ok, here's my newest... thing. I didn't know what to title it for ages; hence its colossal delay. I was not in a good place when writing this... and come to think of it; the more and more I like my stories; the darker and darker they become. My only hope is that someone out there likes this.
His brain hurt. It hurt to think, it hurt to move, stand still or anything else he wanted to do. He'd been stuck in this hellhole for nearly a year; offworld but still alive. He gazed into the mirror; his reflection cracked and broken as he peered through the shattered remains; his grey furred body reflected into the empty room. He'd never wanted to betray them, especially as significantly as he did. His conscious had been eating away from him the moment he'd taken the job... well, it was either take the job and live; or die immediately. He was a coward.
As respectable as dying for your race is; it wasn't his idea of a life fulfilled. He still had wants, hopes and dreams to chase after. He wanted to travel the stars, see what untold wonders existed beyond the Milky Way; unravel the mysteries of the cosmos and contemplate life in a darkened room; classical music his only guide to any sort of answer.
He sighed sadly; the Prelude to Tristan and Isolde playing on his old stereo system. The music was from an Earth composer that he'd managed to snag a copy of on a fast stop-off when giving a former friend a ride to the planet she had called home. Watching her disappear while he hovered 10,000 feet above the surface was just too much; so he got out of there fast. She had been his friend... but then he had to be a fucking jackass and kidnap her... He didn't know why; it wasn't like he was going to take her more then 20 miles away from the fighting.
It had been more then enough for her to hate him though; she hated him with a passion he'd never seen before. He shook his head and trudged his way through his ruined apartment; the black roads and cities peeling out from his window to expand eternally in all directions he could see. If only he'd never chosen to take the offer; then he'd have never been in this mess at all. He could have been his own rat, settled down with a nice girl, maybe a kit to pass on the family line... it was all shattered memories and dreams; just like the crockery he'd broken the previous week.
Whenever he walked around outside; everyone gave him a look of pure disgust. Despite not even being the same species as them; they still hated the rust coloured mouse with a passion. They knew what he had done. He'd sold out the last remaining pockets of resistance on his home planet. There was nothing worse then a traitor; especially a loner who could pull such a colossal feat. Plutark had its share of lunacy and backstabbing, but even it had its limits. Even if he wasn't a Martian; he would have been despised.
The rat sighed; then headed back home; his arms laden with barely enough food to survive another week. He knew his time would come. As he trudged up the stairs; the verbal harrasment began again. Shrugging it all off; as though he was deaf, he entered his apartment, and put the shopping in the kitchen. With a hard sweep of his tail; he cleared his desk of the detritus piling high on its surface. He pulled out a pen and a blank piece of paper, and began to write.
The rat sighed; wiping away the tears that were dampening his muzzle. He couldn't believe how much the remorse had hit him over the last year, especially with his best friend back on Mars. She had been the one thing holding the shattered grey rat together. Now, he had nothing to keep his mind from splintering into a million pieces. He walked out, into the bitterly cold rain; the letter now sealed in an envelope, and addressed to Chicago, an earth town. After shoving it into the interstellar post box; the rat walked back to his apartment, stood on his bed, sighed deeply as his hands worked the rope... then he began to swing.
Three Weeks Later
The Last Chance Garage was quiet that Monday morning. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the famous trio from Mars; the Biker Mice, rolled in. Their human friend; Charlene Davidson, who also owned the garage; was sound asleep in her room. After putting up for 3 years with the mice, she was so used to them coming and going, she'd soundproofed her room so she could get some proper sleep.
As the trio began to heat up the hotdogs and pull out the rootbeers; the mailman arrived. The guy secretly knew about the bros, mainly due to the massive postal delays thanks to their fights on Chicago's streets; and hadn't said a word. If they weren't hurting anyone; they were fine in his book. He slipped the mail through the letterhole in the side door; then went on his way; Throttle giving him a jovial wave as he left.
As the tan mouse began to scan through the letters; he noticed a letter, not only from out of town, but from out of this planet as well. The address wasn't from Mars. Hell, it wasn't even from this side of the galaxy. Tan furred fingers carefully slit it open; revealing only a stained and dirty piece of paper, with writing on it that was hardly recognizable. The silence in the room was broken as the tan mouse began to read the note aloud.
"Throttle, Vinnie and Modo;
I know you are probably still consider me more of a traitor then anyone else left alive on Mars; but there's a side of the story you do not know. Mine."
At this ambiguous start; the trio of mice couldn't make anything out. Who was it from; where did it come from, and could it be a fake? They didn't know. The only clue they had was the document in hand.
"When I was little; my parents died. I think I was like 3 when it happened. I was bounced around between orphanages of all kinds. From the upper class; to a slum that barely had enough cash to feed us. When I was 7, I got kicked out. There were too many new arrivals coming in to cope. I wasn't a bad kit or anything, but they booted me anyway. I wandered around Brimstone for months, maybe a year at least before I found anyone. His name was Crossfire. He was a mouse; but he was a sleaze, how you guys still picture me, and probably how Mars will remember me for the remainder of history."
Deep in the back of their minds; alarm bells were ringing; but they couldn't quite place who was involved in the memories...
"He taught me how to cheat, lie, and twist any and all situations to my advantage. I used that power, a lot. Then, after I turned 13, Crossfire told me that there was a new order coming to Mars. He threatened me with death; and being only a kid, I wanted to live. I wanted to live so bad, I swore I'd do anything to keep myself alive. He gave me over to Jonathan Jarlsberg; an absolute shit of a fish who was taken out mere weeks after I was given to him. I thought the Martian Mice army would take me in and give me a second chance at beginning my life again. They didn't. Instead they turned their guns on me and nearly killed me. I fled; cold, scared and alone. No-one wanted me."
Whoever this mystery writer was; it was obvious he had gone through a lot of trouble in his life. A few stray tear drops lined the edges of the page as the three mice continued to read...
"It's not like I didn't try either. I had signs up all over Brimstone, just wanting work and a place to start. I managed to scrape together enough for a decent meal, but not enough for transport. When Brimstone fell; the fish swept through and took me again. I did all I could to not fall; but they fucked me up good. That Mind Bender thing... they put Stoke through...I'm sad to say, but they did it to me 10 times. They never tested how long it would last. It almost erased my own consciousness and everything else I held dear, and replaced it with all that Plutark pumped out."
The three mice were now in shock. If this guy HAD gone through that horrific machine as many times as the note said he did; they would have easily thought it was a traitor. Finally, the pieces fell into place; one pair of scarlet eyes going wide. "Bros..." Vinnie whispered in open mouthed shock; his entire body trembling at the realization. "It's from Mace..."
"Skipping over the obvious betrayal; there's one thing I am determined to clear my name about. Harley. When I took her; I only did it to get her away from the madness that was surrounding her. Those words I said, they were just for show. I never wanted to harm her. I couldn't risk her going back, knowing that the fish could be in control of the whole planet. I took her with me; I kept her safe, but once she found out about my betrayal; she never trusted me again. Hell, she slept with a pistol clutched in her tail and one next to her hand; in case I tried anything; not that I would anyway."
The white mouse's fury was threatening to explode out of him in a rage of proportions never seen by his bros before. Harley had been the light that lit up the darkness that permeated Vinnie's soul. It had crushed him beyond hope when Mace had kidnapped her, and now; to know that this letter had been written by the hand of his sworn enemy; he wanted to burn it to cinders. The tan mouse's voice was beginning to waiver a bit as he continued to read the letter.
"She knew I was her only ticket of safe passage anywhere; most of the remaining solar system is fish infested. Despite bringing Mars down; I was despised. Even though it doesn't seem like it; even Plutarkians have limits on how much backstabbing is too much. I knew I wasn't wanted anywhere, so I scraped enough gills out of several accounts to rent a small place. I'm probably gonna be kicked out next week, but I don't care. As long as you get this note; that's all that matters."
By now; Vinnie was going insane; furiously pacing around the kitchen, until Modo forced him into a chair, arms pinned to his sides as the grey mouse chained him there; Throttle's soft voice continuing to read the note.
"Vinnie, you still have a chance at getting Harley back. A year ago, I made a one off trip to Mars; disguised. Harley was too. I've given her a new name, as much money as I could spare and a sincere apology. She's changed everything; but not her memory. She's now got black fur; colour contacts in her eyes and a couple tattoos. If you can track her down; you take care of her, understand?"
The chains holding the white furred hurricane to the chair were threatening to break under the strain Vinnie was putting on them. With a nasty CRACK, the chair broke; the chains sliding off the white mouse's body as he began to cry his eyes out. He couldn't believe it. After all this time, he now had one final chance at getting the girl of his dreams back in his arms.
"I just hope this gets to you... before I die. I hope this heals at least one wound, among the thousands I've caused.
Goodbye bros...
Mace."
The scream that tore from the white mouse's throat sent shivers down the spines of everyone who could hear it. It was so loud, it woke Charley from her sleep, and she had never heard any of the guys let out a sound so heart-wrenching before. She raced down the stairs to find Vinnie crying his eyes out; Modo slumped in a chair, and Throttle's hands shaking slightly; all notion of breakfast now forgotten. She tried getting a word out of her mice; but no explanation came. The only sound in the room came from Vinnie; who slowly raised his head to the ceiling; his voice almost indistinguishable from the noise outside. "Harley... I'm coming for you..."