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Rumble 20541 Batman (Nolanverse) vs. Judas Breed
MATCH SCORE
Batman: 2
Judas Breed: 0

Tournament - MST3K vs. Athena (Tomorrowland)
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MST3K: 4
Athena (Tomorrowland): 0

Rumble 20540 Oroku Hiroto vs. Samael vs. Kim Minsu
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Oroku Hiroto: 0
Samael: 1
Kim Minsu: 3

Rumble 20539 Whitespikes vs. The Xenomorphs
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Whitespikes: 0
The Xenomorphs: 3

Cameron Poe vs. Castor Troy
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Cameron Poe: 3
Castor Troy: 0

Match 16600 Biker Mice From Mars vs. Street Sharks


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Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie tore down the streets of downtown Chicago on their motorcycles.  People waved at them as they passed, only pausing a moment when they noticed the fur and tails of the trio.  No one really knew where the three motorcyclists had come from, but after giving aid to the citizens of Chicago on multiple occasions, most people had accepted the mice as heroes.  Although some White Sox fans believed they were part of some publicity stunt by the Cubs, who had allowed them to live behind the scoreboard at Wrigley Field. 

“Miiiiiiiice kind of tooooooown, Chicago is!” Vinnie sang as they took the ramp onto I-90.  “Keep it up, Vincent,” laughed Throttle.  “Singing like that will drive every Plutarkian out of town and off the planet!”  Vinnie cackled as he waved to a pair of ladies driving past in a convertible.  “I gotta give the people what they want, bro!” 

“Yeah?  Well right now they want earplugs,” snorted Modo.  Before Vinnie could reply, a familiar voice came over their radios.  “Throttle?  Guys?  Are you there?  Do you read me?  Over.”  Vinnie pressed a button on his dashboard.  “Hear ya loud and clear, Charley girl.  What’s up?”  The frustration in Charley’s voice was clear for the mice to hear.  “You know what’s up!  You guys were supposed to meet me at the scoreboard an hour ago!  You told the Cubs you were going to keep your hangout clean, and there’s no way I’m going to clean it up by myself!” 

“Don’t worry, Charley,” Throttle said.  “We’re just doing our patrol.  We’ll be back at Wrigley in an hour.”  “And what do you expect me to do while you’re out tearing up the streets?  You got hamburgers in the fridge so old that I could sell them to the Blackhawks for hockey pucks!”  Vinnie leaned in close to the radio and put on his most suave sounding voice.  “Hey, relax, doll!  You can get it started for us!  I always said you cleaned up nice.”  “How about I start with cleaning your clock if you don’t get your tails back here!”  

Suddenly the sound of roaring engines rumbled toward the mice.  They were three vehicles, two motorcycles and a large ATV.  They were driving straight at the mice in both lanes.  “Bros!  Punch it!” yelled Throttle.  The mice hit a button on their dashboards caused their bikes to rocket up into the air and over the oncoming drivers.  They landed back on the pavement and watched as the vehicles continued to speed down the highway.  “Vinnie!  Throttle!  Modo!  What happened?  Are you ok?!”  Throttle switched on his radio.  “It’s alright, Charley.  We just had to do some fancy steering thanks to some road hogs.”  Vinnie looked angrily down the road where the motorcycles had gone.  “Hogs, bro?  I don’t know about you but there was something that looked awfully fishy about those jerks.  Didn’t you see ‘em?  They looked like a bunch of buffed out Plutarkians!” 

“Well, if they are those smelly creeps,” said Modo as he revved up his bike.   “Then it’s only fair we return the favor.  Biker Mice style!”  Vinnie grinned dangerously and pumped his fist.  “Oh yeah!  Nobody’s going to run us off the road in our own town!”  Charley’s voice cut through over the radio.  “Guys!  What about the hangout?  I need you here, not driving around Chicago looking for a fight!” 

“Don’t worry, Charley,” said Throttle.  “We’ll be there.  But first we need to check this out.  OK, bros.  Let’s rock and ride!”  The mice tore down the road after the motorcycles.   “See you in while, Charley girl!” called Vinnie into his radio.  “Remember the vacuum cleaner backs up on you sometimes, so maybe you should use a broom.”  “I’ll use a broom on you, you chauvinistic, meat headed..”  Charley’s rant was cut short as Vinnie switched off the radio.  “Oh, that Charley,” Vinnie chuckled.  “That girl wants me in the worst way.”  Modo rolled his eyes as the mice followed the trail of crashed cars left in their enemy’s wake.  “That’s for sure.”  

The mice drove through the streets until seeing the unmistakable shape of the vehicles in front of them.  “There they are, bros!” shouted Vinnie.  “Let’s show these fish sticks who the baddest mama jamas on the planet are!”  All three mice punched the boost on their bikes, launching themselves over the motorcycles and ATV and landing in front of them.  They screeched to a halt, and the mice got their first good look at the drivers.  They were four large creatures with fins and rows of teeth.  They climbed out of their vehicles and glared at the mice.  “What’s the big idea?” snarled the orange skinned creature.  “You’re in our way!”  Modo looked confused at Vinnie.  “They sure don’t look like any Plutarkians I’ve seen before.” 

“Pluwhatians?” said the creature with purple stripes.  “What are you even talking about?  We’re the…”  The blue skinned creature held up a warning hand.  “Cool it, Streex.  This wasn’t the plan.”  Throttle took of his helmet and walked toward the four as Vinnie leaned forward to get a better look.  “Listen, pal.  We don’t know who you are, but Chicago is our city.   And we don’t take kindly to creeps scaring our citizens.”  The orange creature stepped forward toward Throttle.  “Who you callin’ ‘freak’, furball?”  Vinnie suddenly snapped his fingers.  “Hey!  Bros!  I know who these guys are!  These are those gilled goofballs from Fission City!  We saw them on the news!”  Modo held up his robotic armed and primed his lasers.  “Yeah, that’s right.  What’s the matter?  Did they have a “Beautify the City” Day and finally kick you out?” 

Jab and Streex moved behind Slammu threateningly.  “Smarten up, cheese for brains!” snapped Jab.  Ripster turned to Throttle. “We were being framed!  We came here to this town cuz we thought we could hang out till  the heat died down.”  Vinnie rolled his eye and laughed unconvinced.  “Yeah, right!  Tell me another one.” 

“Easy, Vinnie,” cautioned Throttle, before turning his attention to the Street Sharks.  “Even if we believed your story, that still doesn’t mean we’re going to let you run us off the road.  I think if you know what’s good for ya, you better give us an apology.”  The Street Sharks howled with laughter.  “Apologize?” guffawed Streex.  “It’s not our fault your Mickey Mouse Biker Club doesn’t know how to drive!”  Modo’s eyes flashed dangerously and took aim with his laser.  “Say that again, Jabberjaw!  Say it one more time!”  

“Bros!  Cool it!” both Throttle and Ripster cried in unison.  The seven stood in silence, glaring at each other.  Throttle looked at Ripster over his shades.  “Looks like we have a disagreement.  Only one way to settle it.” 

“A race?” asked Vinnie.  “A fight?” asked Slammu.  Throttle smirked as he faced Ripster.  “Why not both?”  Ripster thought about it before giving the toothiest smile he could muster.  “Yeah!  Your bikes against our rides!  We ride till we can’t ride no more, then we can go mano a mano.  Deal?”  Throttle held out his paw and shook Ripster’s fin.  “Deal!”  The two groups mounted their vehicles.  They raised their fists to the sky. 

“Shark Attack!” 

“Let’s Rock and Ride!” 

OK:

Both teams and their vehicles are at full strength.  They can race throughout the streets of Chicago until one teams vehicles are unable to run, then it will revert to a battle between the teams.  Whichever team takes out the competition’s vehicles and defeats them in combat, wins. 

Game On!

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Love both of these shows as a kid. I was more of a Sharks fan, but I had my share of Mice merch.

That said, this has to be one of my favorite matches by you @broadwaybeyonder. 90s characters that only a few remember and love, the set up is simple and feels like one of the episodes of the show, and I've wanted to see these teams go at each other. 5 out of 5.

The Mice are the better riders and that might give them the edge overall. If it comes to combat though, the Street Sharks win easy. Hard to say...

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10 hours ago, SSJRuss said:

Love both of these shows as a kid. I was more of a Sharks fan, but I had my share of Mice merch.

That said, this has to be one of my favorite matches by you @broadwaybeyonder. 90s characters that only a few remember and love, the set up is simple and feels like one of the episodes of the show, and I've wanted to see these teams go at each other. 5 out of 5.

The Mice are the better riders and that might give them the edge overall. If it comes to combat though, the Street Sharks win easy. Hard to say...

I echo all of this. I am so glad you have been doing all these creative matchups broadwaybeyonder, especially with characters like this. 

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Match Final Results

Member Ratings:
5.00 - patrickthekid
5.00 - SSJRuss
5.00 - JohnnyChany
4.00 - Mercenaryblade

FPA Calculation:
4 Total Votes cast
19.00 Total Combined Score
19.00 / 4 = 4.75 Final Rating on the match

MATCH SCORE
Biker Mice From Mars: 1
Street Sharks: 6

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THE BOTTOM LINE

The Biker Mice drove their cycles expertly passed startled citizens with the Street Sharks’ vehicles hot pursuit.  “Now?” asked Vinnie.  “Not yet,” said Throttle.  “Wait until we’ve got a clear shot.”  The mice quickly turned into an alley, and primed the rockets on their bikes.  “Wait for it, bros,” Throttle cautioned.  He held up a paw as the roar of the Street Sharks’ engines got louder.  He swiftly brought down his paw on the trigger for his rockets.  “NOW!”  All three mice launched their rockets down the alley and straight into the Street Sharks as they passed by.  The sharks yells of alarm were drowned out by the screeching cry of twisting metal. 

The mice pulled out of the alley and saw the Street Sharks trying to pull themselves out of the wreck.  A news helicopter flew over the accident.  “Ha ha!  Alright!” crowed Vinnie.  “We got ‘em good!  Now let’s go whip some tail!”  Before Throttle or Modo could stop him, Vinnie revved his engine and charged toward the sharks.  Slammu snarled fiercely at the oncoming mouse and raised his fists.  “Come and get turned into seafood, hairball!”  Slammu’s punch caught Vinnie’s bike right on the front tire stopping it dead in it’s tracks.  The unfortunate mouse flew into the air and into the waiting arms of Jab and Streex.  Jab took hold of Vinnie’s tail.  “So you like going for a spin, huh, tough guy?”  Jab gave a mighty yank on Vinnie’s tail and sent him spinning down the street back toward Throttle and Modo.  The two drove their bikes passed Vinnie as he fell dizzy to the pavement.  “Vinnie may be a loudmouth,” growled Modo, charging his arm laser.  “But no one beats up on him but us!” 

Modo fired a series of blasts at the sharks that they all managed to dodge.  “Let’s put the bite on ‘em, bros!” called Ripster.  “SHARK ATTACK!” they all yelled.  Ripster and Streex leapt in front of Throttle and Modo’s bikes.  Opening their jaws wide, they brought them down hard on their front tires.  Throttle and Modo jumped off as their bikes were swiftly devoured.  Throttle looked stunned as the sharks stood up from their meal.  “Whoa!  And Charley says we have big appetites.”  Modo readied his arm to fire again but Slammu was already on him, throwing a fierce shoulder tackle that slammed him into a brick wall.  Throttle whipped his tail around Slammu’s waist, lifted him up and threw him on top of Streex and Jab.  Throttle pulled out his laser pistol and pointed it at the fallen sharks.  “Okay.  Fun’s over.  I’m sure Chicago’s finest would like a word with you gill brains.”  Ripster grabbed Throttle’s wrist and tossed his pistol into his mouth.  “You got guts, mouse,” he said between chews.  “But no one messes with the Street Sharks!”  A punch to the gut and another to face and the leader of Biker Mice from Mars was down on the street. 

“Way to go, bro!” cheered Streex.  “We sure showed ‘em!”  The celebration was cut short by the sound of police sirens.  Ripster quickly turned to the others.  “We got to beat it, guys.  We’ll let the cops take care of these bozos.  Let’s shark dive outta here!”  The Street Sharks dived into the earth, chewing through rock and metal.  Their fins could be seen sticking out of the pavement for a moment, until even that had disappeared into the ground.  The two police cars pulled up to sight of twisted metal, Modo and Throttle nursing their injuries, and Vinnie stumbling down the street.  “What the heck happened here?” the lead officer said.  “Don’t ask,” grumbled Modo.  Vinnie pointed a finger down the street where Street Sharks had vanished before collapsing.  “And…don’t you…come…back.  Uhhhh.” 

The police were generous enough to drive the mice back to Wrigley Field.  The trio glumly walked up the stairs that led to their hangout behind the scoreboard.  “I can’t believe this!  We got our tails whipped by a bunch of fish!”  Throttle rolled his eyes as Vinnie grumbled.  “Take it easy, Vinnie.  What is they say?  You can’t win ‘em all.”  Modo’s robotic fist tightened.  “Well we sure lost today!  It’s going to take weeks to rebuild our bikes!  Reprogramming the computers!  The weapons.” 

“And you can forget about Charley helping us with that,” said Throttle, looking at the door to the hangout.  “We kept her waiting all this time and all we have to show for it are the bruises.”  Vinnie grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open.  They stepped into the darkened room.  “Ah don’t worry about it, bros.  Charley knows that a mouse gotta do what a mouse gotta…”  The lights switched on and mice stopped short as they saw Charley sitting in a chair facing the door and glaring at them.  “Hello, fellas.”  Vinnie quickly rebounded and walked over to Charley’s side.  “Charley, doll!  So sorry to keep you waiting, but you won’t believe what happened!  Those guys who ran us off the road?  They were those creeps from Fission City!  The Street Sharks!”  Charley’s eyes grew wide.  “Really?” 

“Yeah!  Really!” Vinnie went on.  “We challenged them to a race and a fight!  We know you’re not big for stuff like that, Charley, but a mouse gotta do what a mouse gotta do!”  Charley leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.  “Well, it must have been some fight, for you guys to keep me waiting here for two hours.  I haven’t had a workday this hard in the garage!”  Throttle and Modo looked at each other sheepishly.  “Well, you see, Charley,” Throttle began.  “The fight didn’t go quite as planned and well…”  Vinnie quickly cut in.  “What Throttle means is, doll, is that those Sharks were a pretty tough crowd of calamari.  But we cut ‘em down to size.  We chased ‘em out of town!  The police were so grateful they even gave us an escort!”  Modo facepalmed and groaned.  “Vinnie.”  Vinnie put his arm around Charley’s shoulder and flexed with the other.  “Yeah, you should have seen me, Charley girl.  I showed those fish faces who the baddest mamma jamma on the planet really is.” 

“Hmm,” said Charley.  She picked up a remote control off the floor and turned on the tv.   On the screen, an excited newswoman was speaking.  “And we’re back with more footage from the incredible brawl that took place downtown today!  Those local legends, the mysterious so-called Biker Mice, mixed it up with Fission City’s public enemies number one through 4, the Street Sharks!  A fight that our hometown heroes unfortunately came out of the worst for wear.”  The mice looked from the screen to Charley.  Vinnie’s face nearly dropped to the floor.  “Uh…Charley…”  Charley held up a hand to silence him.  “Shh.  I don’t want to miss your part.”  The mice watched in embarrassed silence as the image on the screen changed to various helicopter shots of their bikes getting eaten by the Street Sharks and Vinnie getting spun by his tail down the street.  “Police are advising all Chicagoans to be on the look out for the Street Sharks,” the newscaster continued under scenes of the battle.  “If you see four multicolored fins tearing down the street, call this hotline immediately.  The police want to stress to Chicagoans that they should not engage the sharks in anyway.  Just take a look at what they did to the Biker Mice!  We’ll be back with more continuing coverage of this story…” 

Vinnie quickly grabbed the remote off Charley’s lap and switched off the tv.  Charley looked up at him with a smirk.  “So…who’s the baddest mamma jamma on the planet?”  Vinnie chuckled nervously and looked to Throttle and Modo for help, but they looked as embarrassed as he did.  Vinnie gave a tired sigh.  “Look, Charley girl, I’m sorry about all this.  We should have been here helping you, not messing around with those deep, blue creeps.”  Throttle and Modo moved to Charley’s chair by Vinnie.  “He’s right, Charley,” said Throttle.  “We won’t let that happen again.”  Modo nodded.  “You can believe that.”  Charley chuckled as she looked at the downcast faces of her friends.  “Well, maybe not ever again.  The way you guys always get into trouble is part of what makes this fun.”  Vinnie gave a whoop and posed.  “Ow!  Ha ha!  You better believe it, Charley girl!  We’re your go-to party animals!”  Throttle started heading for the bunkbeds in the corner.  “Well, there won’t be any party tonight.  Time to hit the hay.” 

“Yeah,” yawned Modo.  “We’ve got to get started building our new bikes tomorrow.”  Charley rose from her chair and headed for a table covered in a sheet.  She took on end of it and looked at the mice with a grin.  “Oh, that’s too bad.  What am I going to do with all of this then?”  She pulled the sheet off the table and mice’s jaws dropped.  On the table were piles of burgers, hot dogs and root beer.  “While you were out doing was mice gotta do,” Charley continued.  “I was working on getting this place in order.  The management gave it their seal of approval and, in appreciation, gave you guys all this free food as a reward.  But, since you’re all too banged up and tired I suppose I could throw it all out.”  The mice all rushed to the table, Vinnie getting there first.  “Whoa whoa whoooooa, there Charley girl!  There’s no need to be hasty!  I mean, uh, it’s good have a big meal after a long day battling sharks.  Er, right, Throttle?”  Throttle grinned, picked up a root beer and cracked it open.  “You got that right, Vincent.  And you know what they say, right, Modo?”  Modo already had a hamburger in each paw.  “A mouse gotta do what a mouse gotta do!  Pass some mustard over here!”  The mice quickly set upon the food, eating, laughing, and arguing over who got beat up worse in the fight with the Street Sharks.  Charley sat down in her chair.  She rested her head on her hands, rolled her eyes and smiled as she gazed at the Biker Mice from Mars.  “My heroes.” 

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