Hairball Strikes Back

Just as the Biker Mice returned home from another successful mission, all of Wildcat City was cheering them on. As one might expect, it would add to Vinnie's ego, since he could be heard saying, "Thank you! Thank you! No autographs, please!"

"What a surprise," Throttle remarked sarcastically, but laughing all the way.

When our heroes returned to the Last Chance Garage, Charley was equally pleased with what just happened. "Pulled off another one?" she asked in glee.

"Yes, we did, Charley, ma'am," Modo replied as he parked his bike. "Rump's crib is totaled again. Guess he couldn't take the heat, could he?"

"Apparently not, bro," Throttle replied. "But that doesn't necessarily mean old lard butt is gone for good. What puzzles me is why he also thinks Leo the Patriotic Lion is such an insolence. I wonder why?"

"That's what I want to know!" Leo spoke up as he entered the garage. He was wearing his golden armor today, as he had been involved in a side project. "Oh," he said in a softer tone. "Sorry I startled you. But yes, Rump wants me dead as much as he wants you dead."

"Well, we just totaled his tower, so that should put him on hold," Modo replied.

"Not as fun as trashing old stink fish's tower," said Vinnie, "but still worth it. I'm gonna miss partying with old stink fish; I think we totaled his crib over 50 times before we finally left Chicago."

"Not bad!" Leo congratulated. "Keep up the good work. I must say, Wildcat City couldn't have anticipated the arrival of you and your rock band any more than the day you first drove into town, when Limburger was still on this earth, of course."

That night, unbeknownst to anybody, Hairball figured out how to escape from prison, and did so in such a way that none of the prison authorities could catch him. "Dang!" they shouted. "He got away! We are going to have to let the Biker Mice apprehend him again!"

The head authority ran over to his telephone and dialed the number for the Last Chance Garage, after seeing the Biker Mice logo (as on TV) next to the number in his phone book. Charley picked up the phone. "Last Chance Garage," she began. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry. I must've dialed the wrong number," said the head authority. "I was looking for the Biker Mice From Mars."

"No, you called the right number. This is sort of their headquarters when they're not rocking out as the Martian Freedom Fighters."

"Oh. Well, would you please tell Hairball escaped from prison and we couldn't catch him in time? I do believe he's improved his dismal abilities now that his big brother died in that Regenerator accident. I happened to be watching the national news that night and it mentioned the story."

"Okay, I'll do that. Thanks!" Charley concluded as she hung up the phone.

"Promoting our rock band again, Charley girl?" asked Vinnie.

"Well, not exactly, Vinnie," Charley replied. "That was the head prison authority from Alcatraz. Hairball's escaped and they couldn't catch him. They decided to let you grab him again."

Throttle put on his helmet and activated its radar system. "I've located him, bros," he announced, beginning their famous battle cry. "Helmets on! It's time to ROCK…"

"…and RIDE!" everyone shouted, jumping on their bikes, gunning their engines, and racing to the scene. Charley gasped and frantically ran to the garage door opener, pressing it. The door opened just in time before the mice could damage it. "I've just got to teach them the etiquette of leaving a room!" she grunted to herself. She closed the door again.

Due to the different district markings Wildcat City was divided into, the Mice had soon exited Battlefield Range (where Leo lived) and made their way over to the farming area of Cat's Granby. Vinnie recognized this as the place where Rump had earlier tried to industrialize the area by turning part of a field into a water plant serving his brand's bottled water. This was also the place where he and his bros reunited with Mace, whom Rump had taken prisoner.

By the time the Mice had driven halfway through Cat's Granby, Throttle's radar was acting like crazy. "Uh-oh!" he gasped. "Watch it, bros! I think there's a trap somewhere waiting for us!"

"Why would Hairball set up a trap in the middle of nowhere?" Vinnie protested. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, you know how bad wet fur smells," Modo replied. "Like my dear old gray-furred momma always says, 'When the fish smell bad, stay out of the water!' I'd better slow down and let you two investigate." He did so as Throttle and Vinnie kept driving.

No sooner had they hit ground zero when the trap caught them alive. "Watch the tail!" Vinnie screamed in anger as the trap sprang up from the ground. "The tail! The tail! Why do they always go for the tail?"

Modo tried using his bionic arm to free his comrades, but nothing was happening. Throttle tried his battle gloves, and Vinnie karate-chopped everywhere he could without hurting Throttle. But nothing happened.

"Come on, sweetness! Talk to me!" Modo pleaded with no one in particular. "He must've made it mouse-proof."

Watching from his hiding spot, Hairball exclaimed in delight, "It worked! It worked! It worked to perfection, da? And I did it all without that big bully for a brother of mine, well, almost; he helped me design the trap. But now that I've regained my confidence and am able to lead, even without Cataclysm's help, it's time to go to phase two of plan: take over the city and exterminate that pesky Rump! Good thing the trap was a 90 x90 size."

"I can't break you out of there," Modo winced after trying for the seventh time. "This time Hairball really did something rash!"

"Don't give up hope, bros," Throttle replied. "At least the best thing to do is not panic. I've been in worse traps than this before that sadist Karbunkle damaged my vision. Well, sort of; I've always worn the green sunglasses."

Having finally straightened out his tail, Vinnie began kicking again, but to no avail. "I can't budge it!"

"Forget it for the moment, Vincent; this trap is mouse-proof!" Throttle called to him from the opposite side.

Hairball, in the meantime, found the crumbles of Rump's plaza. The police, having just arrested Rump, were told to be on the lookout for him after Charley called Leo and informed him of what was happening, and Leo, in turn, called the police.

"What to do now?" Hairball asked himself, jumping to the wrong conclusion. "Rump is dead and his tower is, too, so no Regenerator for our empire. Where are my Clawtroopers, anyway?" He pondered his next move while staying free from any physical contact or eyesight with the police.

Back at the trap, Throttle and Modo looked at one another somberly. "Wish we weren't so gullible," the stressed commander said to his gray-furred comrade. "That certainly is one of our weaknesses."

"I'm just glad I wasn't willing to go any further than I did," said Modo.

Suddenly, someone shouted, "Bombs away!" Throttle and Vinnie took cover as the resulting explosion burned a large hole in the center of the trap's ceiling. "Where the heck did that come from?" Modo asked himself.

Vinnie watched as the mystery guest performed a backflip with a few other suave secret-agent moves, and landed in a James Bond-type pose. "Ha!" he shouted triumphantly. "How's that for a showoff of good intentions, Uncle Modo?"

"Hey, that's Rimfire!" Modo exclaimed. "Hey, boy! We see you! Can you get my bros out of there?"

"I can try," said Rimfire, now revealing himself. "Here goes!" He spun around and slashed all the trap's bars until Throttle and Vinnie were free as a bird. They got their bikes to safety and Rimfire jumped on his.

"How did you find us?" Throttle asked.

"I heard all the commotion and wondered what the heck was going on here," Rimfire replied. "Having seen what you were going through, I knew the only way to get you out was to first infiltrate the top part. I've seen these traps before."

"Really?" said Modo. "Where?"

"On Mars, when I freed Harley from the clutches of that stink fish Limburger, not so long ago before I crashed into that scoreboard."

"Ouch," said Throttle. "I remember that one."

"One thing's for certain," said Vinnie, "we finally found her after all those battles. Wonder why she thought I dumped her?"

"I don't think she thought you dumped her for another girl intentionally; I think she thought it was you being brainwashed into dumping her by Limburger. Just a hunch. In the meantime, who trapped you?" By now, the Mice and Rimfire were back in Battlefield Range.

"It has to be Hairball," said Modo. "He's escaped from jail and the police can't find him. Heck, Leo can't find him either. He's one sneaky cat."

"I'll try my radar again," Throttle replied, activating it. "I think the trap caused it to go haywire." After about five seconds, he confirmed, "Yep, it's working properly again. And this time, we've got Hairball dead on target. Let's give him a taste of his own medicine!"

Several minutes later, Hairball, trying to escape the police again, found himself dead in the spotlight, as the police got to where he was cornered in one direction and the Biker Mice (and Rimfire) were coming at him from another. "Oh!" he winced. "Why does this always happen to me? You miserable mice! You're supposed to be trapped like sardines in a can, or like dogs in a dog pound! And you…"—(he frowned at Rimfire)—"…I thought I had you all locked up back on Mars!"

"You did, but I can escape from anything!" Rimfire proudly announced as he karate-chopped the incompetent commander and sent him flying towards a helicopter, whose pilot and co-pilot grabbed him and promptly flew him back to Alcatraz.

The next day, Stoker and Carbine had more reasons than ever to praise Rimfire, and Modo took him fishing as a way to relax off the stress while Throttle, Vinnie, and Mace helped Charley manage her place and set up a large poster stating her prices: oil changes starting at $29.95, brake deals and packages starting at $19.95, and starting at $59.95 for anyone who needed dings buffed out or glass replaced.

THE END

Biker Mice From Mars © Rick Ungar, Tom Tataranowicz, Tom Tataranowicz Animation, Brentwood Television Funnies, and whoever else owns the rights

Leo the Patriotic Lion © me