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Innocence Lost	By : HellraiserMomma Category: +1 through F > Biker Mice from Mars Views: 2727 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Biker Mice from Mars, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I do not own the BMFM, they are the property of their rightful owners. This fic is strictly for entertainment only. The character Damian is mine. WARNING: This fic has incest and Non consensual sex in it. DO NOT read if you are under aged.
Innocence Lost
Chapter Two
by J. Hellraiser
January 4, 2002; Revised April 17, 2006
Copyright J. Hellraiser, all rights reserved.
Throttle watched as the Freedom Fighters came in from their rounds. He'd been at the base now for two weeks. Since he was still quite young, Stoker told him that he could be his assistant and help out by delivering messages and such. Throttle didn't mind. He got to meet the different fighters, see their equipment, and hear their stories. A lot of the fighters admired his bike, saying he was lucky. Throttle didn't know why, but he would ask Stoker when he got the chance. The older mouse seemed to enjoy Throttle's presence and Throttle looked to him as a father figure, the kind of father he would have liked to have had. Stoker was with the squad that just came in and saw Throttle sitting off to the side. He waved to the boy, then removed his helmet before striding over to him.
"Hey little bro, something on your mind?"
Throttle nodded, "Yeah, all the guys say I'm lucky to have Lady. I was wondering if you could tell me why."
Stoker smiled, albeit sadly, "Your bike was one of the last AI bikes made."
Throttle's eyes went wide behind his sunglasses, "You're saying that my bike is one of the few AI bikes around?"
Stoker chuckled, "Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Throttle looked at him to see if he was joking, but the serious expression combined with the sad eyes proved he wasn't. Seeing Stoker like that made the young Martian curious, but some of the troops were coming towards them, so he wasn't able to ask. Throttle left as the troops and Stoker began discussing some missions, walking sedately to his small room. He wished his bros were there. Throttle had contacted them a few days ago to let them know he was ok and where he was. His bros told him that his father had informed them that he had decided to join the Freedom Fighters. Damian also told Vinnie and Modo that he was proud of him. This made Throttle angry, but at the same time, relieved.
Maybe it's better he gave them an excuse. I can't tell them the truth. Not yet. It's too shameful. But that bull of telling them that he was proud of me? That was too much.
Throttle entered his room and laid down on his cot, staring up at the ceiling. He took his glasses off for a moment, cleaning the lenses. A blur of white on his desk caught his attention. Throttle replaced his glasses to get a better look, since he was light-sensitive. The white he saw proved to be an envelope, his name on the front in his father's handwriting. Throttle's stomach twisted painfully as he picked it up slowly and opened it.
Throttle,
I see you took the cowards way out of here and ran to Stoker's little warriors. I doubt you told him the reason why you ran away in the first place. Afraid he might not want you there? How are you handling things? Do you miss me? I miss you, the feel of you moving against me, the sound of your voice as you moan in pleasure, the feel of your mouth on my cock. Or are you playing games with one of the boys there? I'm sure they'll appreciate you the way I did.
Love Dad
Throttle felt his heart sink, reading his father's words. Memories of that night came flooding back, making him sink to the floor. Throttle hugged his knees to his chest, shaking silently. Shame washed over him as he sat there, battling the memories overwhelming him. Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, Throttle stood up and sat down at his desk. He pulled out a piece of paper to reply to his father.
Damian,
Stoker's men are not sick bastards like you are. Do me a favor, stay out of my life. Forever.
Throttle
Throttle sealed the letter in an envelope and set it on his desk, then ripped up the one his father had sent. He got up and laid back down on his bed, his eyes on the door. Throttle did not want to suffer here the way he did at home. It was odd, but he felt...well normal would be stretching it. He had never felt normal, but Throttle felt free. At home, it was like he wore an invisible chain, here he was free.
I don't understand it. When I was home, it felt as though my emotions were bent to Damian's will. At the base, they're mine to control.
Throttle shifted on the bed, wincing a little as he encountered a bruise on his leg. A gift from Damian. He sighed, then rubbed his left wrist. It hurt a little, meaning a storm was moving in. Damian broke it when he was 5, then told the doctor Throttle did it riding a bike. It healed, but because of how bad the break was, it always hurt in bad weather. Damian had broke his leg once too, claiming he walked too gracefully. Thankfully, it was treated immediately. Throttle buried his head in to the pillow, silent tears falling, wishing he had someone he could talk to. But in this, he was utterly alone. Still in tears, he drifted off to sleep, a familiar dream dancing across his mind.
Strong, gentle arms holding him. Blue eyes staring down at him from high up. A song of love sung by a beautiful voice, those loving arms rocking him gently. Then waking up to coldness, the lost of warmth evident. Then the blackness around him. People crying. Someone speaking. Then the realization that the warmth and love isn't coming back. That he was alone. His mother was dead.
Throttle woke up with a start, his pillow wet beneath his cheek. He had been crying again, but this time for his mother. With each passing year, her memory faded a bit more. He only had a single picture of her that fit in his wallet. The rest he had left with a friend, asking her to keep them safe. Throttle pulled her picture out and held it to his chest before falling back in to a dreamless sleep.
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Innocence Lost