Neutral Ground

Taking Risks

The room Carbine and the Freedom Fighters sat in was cold, just big enough for the four of them to fit comfortably. Throttle and Modo sat at the table that rested in the middle of the room while Vinnie stood behind them, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tight. Even though he had warmed up to Irene slightly, he was still extremely unsure of the whole situation. It felt.. odd to defend a cat. So he elected to stand back, and let his two brothers do the talking.

“I said an hour, and it’s an hour you get.” Carbine leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and motioning at the three mice, “Your time starts now. Talk.”

An hour suddenly seemed like not nearly enough time. Especially with how stubborn Carbine could be. But, here they were, and they had to make the most of every second they were given.

“We should start with the obvious. I'm sure you want to know why we were in a Catonian ship rather than the one you sent us off in.” Throttle offered, leaning on the table. With Carbine's nod, he continued, “We were caught off guard, surrounded, and captured.” At this, Carbine narrowed her eyes. Throttle knew immediately that she was mentally questioning how and to that he sighed, “Even idiots get lucky sometimes.” He explained, a hint of annoyance in the phrase. He hated admitting to defeat, especially to Catonians, but he had no choice but to acknowledge it.

“We will talk about that later.” Carbine waved a dismissive hand, then laid it back into her lap, “You were all captured. I imagine separated from your bikes as well.” The tan mouse across from her nodded, “What about your tails? Modo's arm? Surely something could have been picked, and opened.”

“That's part of the information we need to relay, ma'am.” Modo piped up, “We think those Catonians have themselves a new General that seems to actually know what they're doing.” He continued, and began counting off on his fingers, “They caught us, took off my arm, and managed to strap our tails to a point of uselessness.” He shrugged, and leaned back in his chair, “We were completely stuck.”

“Interesting. And concerning.” Carbine said, actually taking note of this new development. A new addition to what they already had to deal with? Hannibal Hairball was annoying, and persistent. But he wasn't good at planning by any means. How his army even managed to stay afloat as long as it has was nothing short of a miracle. But him along with someone who seems to be good at strategy? This might spell trouble for them.

However, that's not the subject right now. It's certainly something to address, but after Carbine gets an answer to the main question she has now.

“But onto the main subject at hand.” She spoke, crossing her arms tight, “From what you're saying, there was no way you could have escaped on your own. You can't possibly expect me to believe some cat set you free.” She found the notion ridiculous. Cats have never been the type worthy of trust, and her bias was making it hard to believe one suddenly was.

Modo shrugged, “Believe it, ma'am.” He said simply, “Without Irene, our tails would have been toast.” He started counting off on his fingers, “She escaped her own cell, got us out, and carried my arm the whole way to that ship out there. Like I said before, if she wanted to hurt us, she had plenty of chances to do so.”

Carbine's jaw tensed, knowing he was right. Modo's arm is a weapon, and one look would tell anyone that. With the right push or pull, Irene would have activated one of the guns or projectiles. Weapon experience or not. There was still something she had to consider, however.

For the first time this entire conversation, Carbine actually leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. Actual interest began to show itself, even her tone seemed to calm slightly as she spoke, “And how do you know this isn't just a really good act? That she isn't just waiting for a chance to contact Hairball and signal an attack?”

“In all honesty, we don't know for sure.” Throttle answered honestly, “We did just meet her. Barely spoken. Even while talking on the way here, we didn't learn much.” He shrugged, finishing through a long sigh, “In every way, she is still a stranger.” He watched as Carbine's eyes narrowed. All three mice knew that look. Doubt, anger, slight annoyance. They were losing her.

“Carbine, ma'am, listen.” Modo spoke up quickly, holding his hands up slightly, “I understand not liking the mystery, but the way she reacted to finding her mother was enough proof for me.”

“You're a mama's boy, so of course it would be.” Carbine pointed out, her sudden sharpness making Modo's eyebrow furrow. What does loving his mother have to do with this?

“Okay, I gotta step in.” Vinnie said, breaking his silence. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to the table, now directly behind his brothers. He took a breath, not believing he's actually doing this, “I'm not a mama's boy. I went no contact years ago. So you gotta listen to me, right?”

“As long as you watch your tone, yes.” Carbine warned, though he had caught her attention. He seemed very adamant about staying out of the conversation at the beginning, so the outburst was odd.

Vinnie pressed his lips into a firm line, mentally reminding himself that she is a higher up before finding his words, “I get it. She's a cat, and it's hard to look past that with the literal war we have going on between us and her people.” He rubbed the back of his neck, pausing for a second before continuing. While he spoke, he motioned with his hands as if they were helping to conduct what words to say, “And yeah, we've dealt with cat spies before trying to act like victims. But you gotta admit, every single one gave themselves away somehow.”

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that he was right. They always gave themselves away and the act never lasted this long. The spy acting like a trapped civilian gave himself away with a slip of the tongue. Another? By her clearly trained reflexes after claiming to be nothing more than a farm hand on her home planet. One even gave himself simply from the way he loaded his gun.

“But listen. When she found her mother, the state she was in, I can't even begin to describe the look on her face.” Vinnie grimaced, a flash of the woman's mangled body flashing across his mind, “I've only seen that type of anguish after true, painful loss. Big guy over here even had to snap her out of it so he could get his arm back.” At that, Modo nodded, confirming what he had said.

“She was just standing by the hatch when we left. Staring at it and not moving. When she cried, we could all tell it was coming straight from her gut.” Throttle added, “I believed her.”

“I gotta agree.” Vinnie said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Just.. I'm weirded out too, but I think we gotta give this girl a chance.”

“And what if she is trustworthy, what exactly would we do with her? We can't take her anywhere at the moment, and if she truly has no experience, she's nothing more than dead weight.” Carbine pointed out, and watched as Throttle huffed out a laugh.

“Experience or not, she can clearly hold her own. I think she shows some promise of being useful.” Throttle leaned on the table, “Leave it to us. I think she'll surprise you.”

Silence fell on the group as Carbine visibly went into her thoughts. Consideration, pros and cons, everything rattled around in her doubtful mind. If this was an act, she's the best yet. And she did show potential, Carbine specifically noting when she managed to escape the grip of one of her best soldiers briefly. Not an easy feat.

Maybe there is a possibility. Or maybe Carbine was about to make the dumbest decision of her career.

“Fine. She stays.” Carbine finally spoke, pinching the bridge of her nose, “But!” She snapped, pointing a finger at the three mice, “She is your responsibility. Watch her, make her useful, and keep her the hell away from me.” She stood, crossing her arms, “I'll be watching all of you very closely. Don't make me regret this, or I'll have your tails.”

“I know you want her away from you. But maybe you should apologize for the mother comment you made earlier.” Throttle suggested, motioning towards her, “It was a low blow, even for you.”

“Don't push your luck, soldier.” Carbine snapped before turning on her heel and leaving, leaving the three mice behind.

Now all they had to do was prove themselves right.