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           Axl and his gang froze in place, stunned by the news from the radio.

            “. . . Tuh, tuh, Tank?” stuttered Lonnie, his fur standing on end. “Did he just say tank?”

            Spike flicked his tongue, shaking his head while nervously running his clawed hand over his lizard frill. “Yeah. . .”

            Slade angrily slammed his arms against a nearby truck. “HOW THE HECK DID SID GET HIS PAWS ON A TANK?”

            “Them darn dirty rats!” fumed Rolf growling. “Just wait till I get get my claws on em!”

            “Uhh, yeah I don’t think that’s going to end well, Rolf,” nervously chuckled Lonnie.

            Axl found himself, at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the two hundreds of lizard men, gazing at him with fearful wide yellowed eyes, looking to him for the direction and assurance he knew he was unable to give. Moments ago, he had convinced himself that they were prepared for anything. Even were Sid able to receive the aid of every Sewer Rat gang member, he still believed in their ability to hold their own. Unfortunately, even with their great numbers, and Spike’s weapons, they were at an extreme disadvantage when it came to battling a tank. If his worst fears were confirmed, it would be a short, but violent battle claiming the lives of many young men. He knew this was the moment he was expected to say something to win back the confidence of their swamp army, but his mind was at a loss for what that could be.

            As he continued to search for words, an all too familiar mocking voice cut through the awkward silence. “So what’s the plan, our great and glorious leader?” Axl frowned looking up to see Graham, the elderly swamp lizard, limping through the crowd on a wooden cane. He was wearing his usual work attire in the form of blue overalls with a white undershirt. His attire was just as representative as his opinions, reflecting the old “hick” roots of the swamp. And Graham was never short of opinions, nor was he ever shy to share them.

          His ‘run ins’ with Graham dated back to his childhood. The old swamp lizard had long owned several acres in Greenwood, one of them just so happening to be extremely well suited for biking. He could still picture the figure of Graham chasing after him and his friends, shovel raised in hand, driving them off his property. This same animosity carried on into his teens whenever he would join his friends for a late night party in his portion of the swamp. Graham also owned the most scenic view off Mudlick River from the large open shore. There they would blast the music while they partied around the fire, and went for a dip in the muddied waters. Normally their trespassing on this ‘off the beaten path’ location went undetected but there still were a few nights him and his friends were found out and driven off by Farmer Graham’s shovel.

          He knew the old man had despised everything about him from day one, having pinned him early as a ‘leader of delinquents.’ This did not change with his entry into adulthood as Graham grew to loath the day Axl helped import heavy metal culture into the swamp. To Graham, Axl was the poster boy of ‘social decay.’ He claimed his music was too loud’ and ‘his attire and style too savage.’ Truth be told, he did not like him either. Perhaps, it was a product of him becoming overly proud with to his ‘rock star’ status, and he was not used to being disrespected in such a bold manner? Still, he could not help but admire the old man for having the guts to openly disrespect him, bringing him back down to earth as the little swamp boy he was before joining the Nightriders. Because of this, perhaps someone like Graham in his life was just the medicine he needed to keep his ego in check. After all, ‘the old coot’ was the one he could always trust to tell him the truth, straight to his face when he was in the wrong.

      Despite Graham’s reputation as a grumpy miser, he was also a respected member of the swamp community and Axl felt that behind all their animosity, the two of them shared an unspoken respect for one another.

      However, in the face of a deadly conflict where he was struggling for every ounce of confidence to defeat their overpowered enemy, the mocking of Graham felt to be the last thing he needed.

       After all, the possibility of having lost two of his best friends, Iggy and Brutus, in battle laid heavily on his heart. He knew his patience was compromised leaving him vulnerable to saying or doing something he would later regret.

      The silence came to an end as Axl witnessed zealous rage erupt from his friend Slade, who approached Graham with a threatening fist. “Shut up, grandpa, or I’ll shut it for you!”

      Darn it, Slade! Axl cried restrained his overly zealous friend by placing a claw on his chest.

      “Bring it, kiddos!” jeered Graham. “I’ll whack some sense into all of you with my cane!” The mouths of the observing reptiles’ gaped open with concern as Graham began to threateningly swing his cane like a club toward all of Axl’s surrounding men.

      “Oh, my!” gasped Lonnie, stepping back.

      “Who is this?” growled Rolf, baring his teeth.

      “Stand down, everybody!” shouted Axl. “He’s just a grumpy old man! He’s not worth our time!”

      “Try me, boy!” taunted Graham.

      Axl flicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes. “You and your cane are the least of my worries right now, Graham,” Axl replied. “And besides, I don’t hit old people.”

      Graham cackled with a mocking grin. “Well, what are you afraid of, rock star?”

      “Nothing!” snapped Axl. “But we have far more pressing concerns right now besides our little personal feud! The safety of our swamp has been threatened by a bunch of street rats!”

          “Why don’t yah just ‘rock our enemy away?’” mocked Graham. “’Nothing can stop heavy metal’, am I right? Isn’t that what you always say in your songs?”

            Before Axl could answer, Spike cheerfully interrupted. “We need not worry, boys! All we need are some of Spikey’s good ol’ grenades!”

            “And a ton of stretchers,” muttered Rolf.

            “Seriously, guys!” scoffed Spike. “Back in my war heyday, a grenade was always more than enough to take out a tank. You just have to know where to throw it.”

            “And where is that?” queried Axl.

            “Thee exhaust engine compartment, that’s where,” replied Spike confidently, drawing a sketch on his clipboard. “Right, here!”

            Axl and his gang surrounded the clipboard to see the tank diagram Spike had scribbled.

            “It that small?” grumbled Swamper in his deep broken voice.

            Axl sighed as he viewed the same softball sized opening on the side of the tank. “Do you have any better ideas?”

            Spike shrugged. “Well, I suppose you could always go fer the treads to, but that would only stop the tank in it’s tracks, not disarm it.”
            “At least that would stop it from reaching the village,” chimed in Slade.

            Axl nodded, with his hands at his hips as he thought over their plans. “How many grenades do you have, Spike?”

            “Two barrels full,” Spike proudly declared.

            Diesel stepped forward from the crowd of reptiles, raising a hand. “Alright, I see where this is going. What we need is a battle sacrifice!”

            “A what?” asked Axl curiously, raising a brow.

            “Now don’t you worry,” Diesel replied consolingly. “Ol” Diesel has got you covered. I’ll charge the lines until I’m close enough to chuck one grenade in there, before the tank blows me to smithereens.”

            “No, no, no!” scolded Axl. “Nobody is going to be needlessly throwing their lives away. Especially, you, Diesel! You’ve got a wife and kid!”

            Only you could have come up with a dumb plan like that, Diesel!” scolded Graham.

            Diesel’s enthusiastic smile dissipated. “Oh, yeah. Right. . .”

            “I knew it!” snapped Rolf. “I should have hired professional mercenaries to take care of this!”

            “No mercenaries would take on a tank!” snorted Lonnie.

            Axl grabbed a grenade and juggled it once with his hand. He knew every second they continue to bicker over what should be done, the less time they would have to prepare for the arrival of their enemies. It was now or never that he would reach down deep for his inner confidence to unite the men for battle. It was time for him to lead. . . “We can argue about what we’re gonna do all we want, but it looks like these grenades are gonna be our best shot at defending our swamp and getting out of here alive. Who’s with me?”

            To Axl’s relief, the lizard men cheered in unison at his first declaration of confidence.

            “We’re with you, Axl!”

            “Let’s kick some rat tail!” jeered Slade.

            “Let’s show them just how crazy we can be!” shouted Diesel.

            “Swamper crush them!” roared Swamper, beating his chest.

            “You’re all crazy!” Graham retorted.

            “Tell me about it, gramps!” muttered Rolf. “I have to work with this guy. . .”

            Axl felt Lonnie give him a reassuring slap on the back. “We’re with you, old buddy. And not to sound morbid or anything, but we’re with you till the end.”

            Axl chuckled. “That was a little morbid, Lonnie, but thanks.”

            Any time, dude,” Lonnie replied with a wink. “Let’s show them sewer rodents whose swamp this really is!”

Illustration by Randomthewolfskie

Thanks for reading!

Nightriders: Revenge of the Sewer Rats Part 13

r

Nightriders: Revenge of the Sewer Rats Part 1

Description

           Axl and his gang froze in place, stunned by the news from the radio.

            “. . . Tuh, tuh, Tank?” stuttered Lonnie, his fur standing on end. “Did he just say tank?”

            Spike flicked his tongue, shaking his head while nervously running his clawed hand over his lizard frill. “Yeah. . .”

            Slade angrily slammed his arms against a nearby truck. “HOW THE HECK DID SID GET HIS PAWS ON A TANK?”

            “Them darn dirty rats!” fumed Rolf growling. “Just wait till I get get my claws on em!”

            “Uhh, yeah I don’t think that’s going to end well, Rolf,” nervously chuckled Lonnie.

            Axl found himself, at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the two hundreds of lizard men, gazing at him with fearful wide yellowed eyes, looking to him for the direction and assurance he knew he was unable to give. Moments ago, he had convinced himself that they were prepared for anything. Even were Sid able to receive the aid of every Sewer Rat gang member, he still believed in their ability to hold their own. Unfortunately, even with their great numbers, and Spike’s weapons, they were at an extreme disadvantage when it came to battling a tank. If his worst fears were confirmed, it would be a short, but violent battle claiming the lives of many young men. He knew this was the moment he was expected to say something to win back the confidence of their swamp army, but his mind was at a loss for what that could be.

            As he continued to search for words, an all too familiar mocking voice cut through the awkward silence. “So what’s the plan, our great and glorious leader?” Axl frowned looking up to see Graham, the elderly swamp lizard, limping through the crowd on a wooden cane. He was wearing his usual work attire in the form of blue overalls with a white undershirt. His attire was just as representative as his opinions, reflecting the old “hick” roots of the swamp. And Graham was never short of opinions, nor was he ever shy to share them.

          His ‘run ins’ with Graham dated back to his childhood. The old swamp lizard had long owned several acres in Greenwood, one of them just so happening to be extremely well suited for biking. He could still picture the figure of Graham chasing after him and his friends, shovel raised in hand, driving them off his property. This same animosity carried on into his teens whenever he would join his friends for a late night party in his portion of the swamp. Graham also owned the most scenic view off Mudlick River from the large open shore. There they would blast the music while they partied around the fire, and went for a dip in the muddied waters. Normally their trespassing on this ‘off the beaten path’ location went undetected but there still were a few nights him and his friends were found out and driven off by Farmer Graham’s shovel.

          He knew the old man had despised everything about him from day one, having pinned him early as a ‘leader of delinquents.’ This did not change with his entry into adulthood as Graham grew to loath the day Axl helped import heavy metal culture into the swamp. To Graham, Axl was the poster boy of ‘social decay.’ He claimed his music was too loud’ and ‘his attire and style too savage.’ Truth be told, he did not like him either. Perhaps, it was a product of him becoming overly proud with to his ‘rock star’ status, and he was not used to being disrespected in such a bold manner? Still, he could not help but admire the old man for having the guts to openly disrespect him, bringing him back down to earth as the little swamp boy he was before joining the Nightriders. Because of this, perhaps someone like Graham in his life was just the medicine he needed to keep his ego in check. After all, ‘the old coot’ was the one he could always trust to tell him the truth, straight to his face when he was in the wrong.

      Despite Graham’s reputation as a grumpy miser, he was also a respected member of the swamp community and Axl felt that behind all their animosity, the two of them shared an unspoken respect for one another.

      However, in the face of a deadly conflict where he was struggling for every ounce of confidence to defeat their overpowered enemy, the mocking of Graham felt to be the last thing he needed.

       After all, the possibility of having lost two of his best friends, Iggy and Brutus, in battle laid heavily on his heart. He knew his patience was compromised leaving him vulnerable to saying or doing something he would later regret.

      The silence came to an end as Axl witnessed zealous rage erupt from his friend Slade, who approached Graham with a threatening fist. “Shut up, grandpa, or I’ll shut it for you!”

      Darn it, Slade! Axl cried restrained his overly zealous friend by placing a claw on his chest.

      “Bring it, kiddos!” jeered Graham. “I’ll whack some sense into all of you with my cane!” The mouths of the observing reptiles’ gaped open with concern as Graham began to threateningly swing his cane like a club toward all of Axl’s surrounding men.

      “Oh, my!” gasped Lonnie, stepping back.

      “Who is this?” growled Rolf, baring his teeth.

      “Stand down, everybody!” shouted Axl. “He’s just a grumpy old man! He’s not worth our time!”

      “Try me, boy!” taunted Graham.

      Axl flicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes. “You and your cane are the least of my worries right now, Graham,” Axl replied. “And besides, I don’t hit old people.”

      Graham cackled with a mocking grin. “Well, what are you afraid of, rock star?”

      “Nothing!” snapped Axl. “But we have far more pressing concerns right now besides our little personal feud! The safety of our swamp has been threatened by a bunch of street rats!”

          “Why don’t yah just ‘rock our enemy away?’” mocked Graham. “’Nothing can stop heavy metal’, am I right? Isn’t that what you always say in your songs?”

            Before Axl could answer, Spike cheerfully interrupted. “We need not worry, boys! All we need are some of Spikey’s good ol’ grenades!”

            “And a ton of stretchers,” muttered Rolf.

            “Seriously, guys!” scoffed Spike. “Back in my war heyday, a grenade was always more than enough to take out a tank. You just have to know where to throw it.”

            “And where is that?” queried Axl.

            “Thee exhaust engine compartment, that’s where,” replied Spike confidently, drawing a sketch on his clipboard. “Right, here!”

            Axl and his gang surrounded the clipboard to see the tank diagram Spike had scribbled.

            “It that small?” grumbled Swamper in his deep broken voice.

            Axl sighed as he viewed the same softball sized opening on the side of the tank. “Do you have any better ideas?”

            Spike shrugged. “Well, I suppose you could always go fer the treads to, but that would only stop the tank in it’s tracks, not disarm it.”
            “At least that would stop it from reaching the village,” chimed in Slade.

            Axl nodded, with his hands at his hips as he thought over their plans. “How many grenades do you have, Spike?”

            “Two barrels full,” Spike proudly declared.

            Diesel stepped forward from the crowd of reptiles, raising a hand. “Alright, I see where this is going. What we need is a battle sacrifice!”

            “A what?” asked Axl curiously, raising a brow.

            “Now don’t you worry,” Diesel replied consolingly. “Ol” Diesel has got you covered. I’ll charge the lines until I’m close enough to chuck one grenade in there, before the tank blows me to smithereens.”

            “No, no, no!” scolded Axl. “Nobody is going to be needlessly throwing their lives away. Especially, you, Diesel! You’ve got a wife and kid!”

            Only you could have come up with a dumb plan like that, Diesel!” scolded Graham.

            Diesel’s enthusiastic smile dissipated. “Oh, yeah. Right. . .”

            “I knew it!” snapped Rolf. “I should have hired professional mercenaries to take care of this!”

            “No mercenaries would take on a tank!” snorted Lonnie.

            Axl grabbed a grenade and juggled it once with his hand. He knew every second they continue to bicker over what should be done, the less time they would have to prepare for the arrival of their enemies. It was now or never that he would reach down deep for his inner confidence to unite the men for battle. It was time for him to lead. . . “We can argue about what we’re gonna do all we want, but it looks like these grenades are gonna be our best shot at defending our swamp and getting out of here alive. Who’s with me?”

            To Axl’s relief, the lizard men cheered in unison at his first declaration of confidence.

            “We’re with you, Axl!”

            “Let’s kick some rat tail!” jeered Slade.

            “Let’s show them just how crazy we can be!” shouted Diesel.

            “Swamper crush them!” roared Swamper, beating his chest.

            “You’re all crazy!” Graham retorted.

            “Tell me about it, gramps!” muttered Rolf. “I have to work with this guy. . .”

            Axl felt Lonnie give him a reassuring slap on the back. “We’re with you, old buddy. And not to sound morbid or anything, but we’re with you till the end.”

            Axl chuckled. “That was a little morbid, Lonnie, but thanks.”

            Any time, dude,” Lonnie replied with a wink. “Let’s show them sewer rodents whose swamp this really is!”

Illustration by Randomthewolfskie

Thanks for reading!

Nightriders: Revenge of the Sewer Rats Part 13

r

Nightriders: Revenge of the Sewer Rats Part 1