Neutral Ground

Unpleasantries

Note: I know I'm very slow to update, I'm so sorry! Life has been kicking my ass left and right. But I hope you enjoy the update, and of course, any feedback or advice is greatly appreciated. Stay safe.

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It took a while for them to make the trip. Along the way, some bonding actually happened, basic 'get to know you' questions and answers; anything to distract what happened and what is to come. Some laughs were even exchanged, lightening the tense air significantly and almost resembling the beginnings of friendship between the three mice and the cat. Almost. 

Soon enough, Irene found herself looking out the window as Throttle announced their arrival. She couldn't help but feel nervous as the red dirt of Mars welcomed them. 

"So, uh.. I'm meeting your captain, you said?" She asked, and Throttle shook his head,

 "General. Be careful, she's very particular about that." 

With his warning, she nodded, "Right.. is she nice?"

Vinnie scoffed, "To Throttle. And that's only sometimes."

"Amazing." Irene mumbled, her shoulders slouching with anxiety as the ship landed. She chewed her lip a little as she watched the ship be approached immediately by several men and women with guns at the ready. "Hey, Throttle? Didn't you manage to contact them and say it was you guys driving this ship?" She turned to look at him as he stood. 

"Yeah, they know it's us." He looked at her, "But they also know you're here."

Her anxiety spiked. Those guns were meant for her? "W-Wait, but I'm not a threat! Why-" 

Throttle held up a hand to stop her talking before motioning out the window. "We know that. They don't. We'll back you up, but they need proof. That's all." He reached out, patting her shoulder, "You'll be fine, I promise. Think positive."

Ignoring the total lack of confidence she had in his statement, she nodded. What else could she do? Not like she knew how to fly this ship, it’s far more complicated than her small travel ship which she lovingly called ‘Shit Box’ despite her mother’s protests. The loud whirring of the hatch opening brought Irene out of her thoughts, ears laid flat against her head when she looked at it. She had an awful feeling, but there’s no turning back now so.. here goes nothing.

She waited for the mice to start leaving first before following, tail tucked. The moment she stepped out, she was hit with a blinding light. The light hurt enough that she raised her arm to try and protect her eyes, only for her wrist to be grabbed. She was yanked off the ramp sideways, causing her to fall painfully before managing to get her feet under her again. Her head snapped to look at who had grabbed her as she shouted, “Let me go!”

“Shut up, cat.” The large mouse spat at her, tightening his grip to a point the she yelped and instinctively reached up to try and loosen his fingers. 

Modo moved towards him, “Whoa, whoa, hey- not so tight, man! She isn’t gunna-”

“Isn't going to do what, exactly?” A female voice called from the crowd. Irene, still digging at the mouse's fingers for some relief, looked towards the voice. Out from the crowd came a light gray mouse with black hair that stopped just past her shoulders, a small scar etched across the bridge of her nose and down under her left eye. Her stare was intense, and it was clear from how the three mice she came with straightened out that this was the infamous Carbine that she was told about. It was also clear that Irene's lack of confidence in this going was accurate. 

“She isn't going to hurt anyone, ma'am.” Modo spoke first, though cautiously, “She doesn't have any weapons.” 

“And you know how, exactly? Did you search her?” Carbine questioned and Modo paused. He looked to Irene, observing her battered tank top and torn jean pants, then back to Carbine.

 “I don't think she's wearing the right clothes to be hiding anything.” He pointed out, only to fall silent when Carbine narrowed her eyes at him. 

This time, Throttle spoke up, “She has no weapons, Carbine. Don't you think she would have used it against us on the way here if she meant harm?”

“Out of the three of you, I thought you at least would have common sense, Throttle.” Carbine spat and used the hand gun she held to point towards Irene, “Weapon or not, she is a cat. Therefore, a threat.” She walked towards Irene as she continued, “She could be an informer. A spy for the Catonians with a ‘woe is me’ act.”

“I want nothing to do with them!” Irene spoke up, “I want nothing to do with this war!” When she finished, Carbine was practically in her face, staring her down.

 “Why would I believe that? Why should I listen to a cat?” Carbine argued. 

Irene looked her in the eye, thinking maybe if she watched her eyes, she would know she was telling the truth as she admitted, “They killed my mother.”

“One less cat.” Carbine spat, venom dripping from her words. The silence after that was palatable. Irene froze in shock as she stared at Carbine, processing what she just said. Modo took an angry step forward, ready to reprimand his superior regardless of the consequences.

Crack.

Carbine suddenly stumbled back, holding her nose in shock. When she moved her hand and looked at it, she stared at the red spots on her palm. Her anger spiked and she snapped her head to look at Irene, “Did you just head butt me?!” She yelled. 

Irene didn’t acknowledge her question and simply started fighting against the mouse holding her in order to get closer to Carbine and cause more damage. She began kicking and baring her fangs before shouting, “You don’t know me, and you sure as hell didn’t know my mother!”

“You’re going to regret doing that.” Carbine warned, only getting a loud hiss in response. She then waved her hand angrily, wiping her nose with the other one, “Take her to the holding cells, I’ll deal with her later.” She turned towards the three Freedom Fighters, glaring harshly at Modo and Throttle to stop them in their tracks. Who did they think they were approaching?

“I need to talk with these three.” Carbine crossed her arms. The three mice in question watched as a struggling Irene was taken away, putting up enough of a fight that she managed to slip from the soldier’s grasp and run a few steps forward before getting grabbed again. This time, tossed over an even larger mouse’s shoulder, she could only struggle a moment longer before giving up, her eyes stinging with frustrated tears as she finally disappeared from sight. She didn’t have enough experience to win this fight.

“How long will you have her in the holding cell?” Modo asked, tearing his eyes away from where Irene had disappeared to in order to finally look at Carbine. 

“What does it matter?” Carbine says, wiping her nose yet again, “All you need to know is that she’ll be dealt with.”

Modo went to protest, only for Throttle to hold up a hand to stop him so he could speak, “Give us an hour, General. If we can’t convince you to give her a chance by then, we will step back and stay silent.” Carbine didn’t speak, only turned to stare at Throttle, an unreadable expression on her face. Throttle stared back, never breaking eye contact as he spoke again, firmly yet calmly, “Just one hour. That’s all I ask..”

Carbine mentally cursed at herself and her weak spot for Throttle. With a sigh and glare off to the side, she stared off for a second before squeezing her eyes shut, “Fine. One hour.” with that, she turned sharply on her heel, marching off without making sure they were all following. 

This was going to be a very, very long hour.