Limburger sighed. By now that human should have left. He always realised she was going to be obstinate and ornery. But this… He sighed and looked at his assistants. Stilton was squelching his reports as usual, never having forgiven Limburger for his attempted coup.
"The proprietor of the place that's preventing my plans and whose property rights should have been purchased priorly is a pain in the posterior."
"I said that pain in the arse, Ms Davidson should have sold out already. Still, she can't survive much longer. It's not as if there's any business in that area, at least anymore."
(Last Chance Garage)
"Damn I didn't want to sell to that Lardbutt Lawrence Limburger, but even I'm about to be driven out of business. I've held off as long as I can and if I want to start anew, I'll have to sell now."
A motorbike arrives outside the workshop. A man gets off and speaks. "I'm looking for a Mr Charlie Davidson? You're supposed to be the best Mechanic in Chicago. Can you do Military spec. work?"
"You're speaking to her. And unless you have papers I won't. I could do it though."
The man sighs. This was a bad part of town even before Limburger had moved in and demolished a large stretch of the area. Ms Davidson had every right to be cautious. He also sighed. "I'm also going to need some forms of ID. This is a legitimate contract, and might just save your business."
After both had looked each others ID's and confirmed they were in order. Charley sighed. "Military tech. Okay, this is desperate:- why?
"We'll explain later. Do the work first then I'll tell you. And we'll keep you in supplies for quite some time to come." The man left letting his words hang in the air.
Charley worked on the bike for several hours. The money that she had been paid for this work meant she would be able to open a new business anywhere else, but opposing Limburger was useful, and showed him that not everyone could be cowed. Charley was so busy on her new job she barely noticed Limburger's arrival. Limburger approached, and decided to speak. "Miss Davidson. I appreciate the act and the appearance of affluence, but even I know that you have been cash strapped. Trying to drive the price up won't work. This is my last offer. If you don't sell up, I buy it in auction after you have been driven out of business."
"I got a new customer base, Limburger. Since I can now afford to refuse your generous offer, I will."
Limburger leaves. This was annoying, the woman wasn't bluffing. The bike Ms Davidson had been working on was definitely new. Pity he couldn't deal with the customer base. It was still probably time to play really dirty indeed. He left dwelling over how to deal with Davidson.
Some time later the mysterious man reappeared and was about to collect his bike, when Charley stopped him from leaving. Hoisting her spanner she poked him with it. "You said you'd explain, mister, so explain."
"We believe aliens are working through human agents to strip-mine the planet. We've done what we can, locking the agents down into cities, and sponsoring the more obstinate and ornery obstructions. We obviously can't face aliens in open battle. But by setting up cells to oppose them..."
"If we cripple the agents just enough... Limburger's one of them, isn't he?"
"We believe so, yes. We're already planning an accident for him. But we don't want things to be too obvious, so no open warfare. We do want you to organise one of the cells though."
Charley considers carefully but only needs a minute to make up her mind. "Agreed."
Limburger sighed. The Earthlings might not have worked out everything but that obstinate and ornery opposition was still obstructing him. It just wasn't possible unless some busybody was bankrolling the ballsy bitch's business. He sighed. He kept on trying to tell high-command that Earth had already started organising opposition, and they had to move now before Earth and Mars felt they could oppose on equal terms. Two of the best warrior races in the galaxy and they were trying to deal with both at the same time! That was insane! Still it was probably time to deal with what he could. "Karbunkle, get me that gormless, gruesome goon of mine."
"Pardon your heavily hydrogenatedness?"
"Get me Greasepit. I have a job for him."
(Most of the events of the first episode go here.)
(Last Chance Garage)
"I said no open warfare. Why did you disobey my instructions?"
Charley sighed. "I've found out rather a lot, some of it unbelievable. They hit another planet, and some of their soldiers crashed here. They took the war to him. I felt they'd get the blame rather than us and we could stymie him, completely. And things are worse than you might think. Limburger isn't a human agent. He's an alien himself."
"Damn. That scratches the assassination. If we killed him they'd know we know. We'll try and keep things clear for your friends though. Since they can take the fight to Limburger, we'll let them do that. What do they need?"
"A home, a good mechanic, and they love sports games, root bear and hotdogs."
"They're your problem to deal with. So, games, hotdogs and root beer? The Nubs stadium seems perfect especially if we let them use the scoreboard."
Throttle sighed. Things just didn't add up. Earth tended to log military tech too well and Charley-girl had just given them it. Then they had been placed in the scoreboard far too easily. Someone was definitely greasing the wheels. He wondered how much that had cost Charley-girl. Worse Vinnie was crushing on her which meant he was being more rat-brained and ego-centric than usual. Not too surprising really, she was good looking and Vinnie's type but no matter how similar they were in personality, Charley-girl was not Harley. When he next saw Charley-girl he gave her a gentle nod. Ask her no questions and she'd tell no lies.