My sequel to Everybody Loves Angie. Chitzok's mad and he forms a deadly alliance with a twisted teenager named Martyr. Martyr hates all Martians but what sort of alien is he? And what is it that he has against B.Bop? The clock is ticking - and they both want Ange to be their bride.

…Present day (after the events of Everybody Loves Angie), (Rune Asteroid)…

Chitzok landed with a greater force than expected. He'd never actually intended to give the girl up to the zoo – he'd been threatening, that was all. "Curse those Martians," he scowled, rubbing his arms impatiently. He kicked his legs succeeding in ridding himself of the stabbing pain shooting up his right calf. He'd fallen awkwardly.

So. Now what did he have? No Roverpod, no girl… He dug his hands into the lining of his khaki shirt and grinned as he retrieved a fistful of blue crystals. "I can buy a planet, right Bog?" he flashed his teeth, and his expression vaguely resembled the grin he was hopelessly trying to form. Putting the Bognonian crystals back, he stood up and looked around. He frowned as he realised where he was. It had been pure chance that he'd landed here, of all places.

"Boo," There were a few things that could turn Chitzok's stomach, but now his heart felt as if it were coated in liquid nitrogen. His body tensed, his five eyes rolling around. Two of them turned 360 degrees so he could see the shady figure behind him.
"Mar – tyr," he took a breath in mid-sentence, splitting the boy's name in two. His heart pounded wildly. Martyr, a boy with black hair, black eyes to match and a star shaped scar below his left eye, walked forward. "Chitzok," the boy said in exactly the same tone. Even though Chitzok could see him perfectly, he thought it practical to turn to face him.

Martyr had a cold face, a smile that was either mocking or challenging. He was only sixteen but had enough evil in his body for the two of them. "Well, well. On my asteroid?" he grinned, flashing a set of jagged teeth. Sharp as needles. No one knew what he was. No specie quite like he had ever been discovered. He was just a bad, bad boy.

Martyr stepped closer to Chitzok, not intimidated by his towering appearance. Chitzok stood, cemented in place, but he was terrified of this child – something in his instincts warned him: DANGER.

"I saw you land. If I didn't know any better," he paused, screwed up his face and nibbled on his finger, before: eureka! "Manual Link-Up victim." Chitzok nodded, thinking – 'how does this kid know so much?' "The infamous Martians, I believe?" Chitzok grimaced in response and sat down on a red boulder. In his usual raspy voice he took hold of the conversation.

"Do you have a decent ship I could… commandeer?" he snarled, splitting the sentence up with an unstoppable catch of his breath, as usual. Martyr laughed, throwing his head back and tossing his slightly-long black hair out of his eyes. He fixed his bottomless stare on the alien. "Possibly,"

Chitzok was about to open his mouth – to suggest a trade. But –
poof
– Martyr had already disappeared.

…Three weeks later (Earth, ZAPZ)…

The teleporter started whirring and the antennae widened in the process of bringing forth an object for the Martians' attention. Blue electricity shot up and out of the arms, gathering, levitating in the centre. What appeared…
...was a news article.

…One hour later (Rune Asteroid, Martyr's Apartment)…

"It's only for the weekend, Chitzy, you understand?" Martyr grinned, sitting back in his black recliner. Everything Martyr owned was black. Chitzok bowed. He recognised superiority when he saw it. Martyr owned the Rune asteroid and since Chitzok was on his turf – his rules.
"I'm amazed you're… allowing me to stay… at all," he looked up. Martyr waved a hand as if to say 'whatever' and turned to his right. He opened the door to a mini-fridge (black, of course), and got out a can of Coca-Cola. A human drink. Martyr kicked his legs up and started to take sips from the can. Chitzok stared.

"Forgive me, Martyr, but surely you know what… specie you are?" Chitzok rose, towering above the teenager. Martyr wasn't one to be misjudged because of his age. He'd done things… things you couldn't just forget about. He'd murdered countless times and even once… no, Chitzok couldn't even think about it. It was far worse than anything he'd even imagined of doing.

Martyr laughed again, sending a chill down Chitzok's spine. "Possibly," he smiled, a devilish smile. It was his favourite word. "And you think I'd tell you because?" he left the question hanging in the air, putting his drink down.
Chitzok's face was a mask. "I've been led to believe you're… invincible. All these rumours… I," he bowed his head, then looked up again – face set in determination. "I need your help if… the rumours are true."
Martyr narrowed his eyes, his attention captured. "I'm listening," he breathed.

WARNING, SECURITY BREACH

IT IS BELIEVED THAT CRIMINAL (TYPE A), CHITZOK, HAS AN ALLY IN MARTYR SADLER. MARTIANS ARE BEING ALERTED AND TOLD TO BE PREPARED.

The kids stared at the Martians then back at the newspaper article. 2-T leant forward and ran his index finger over the top of the paper. The article was at the top, below the date. "It's three weeks old." He frowned and bowed his head in grim realisation. "Only a few days after Chitzok took Ange."

B.Bop's face was pale. He was shaking. Mike nudged him, plastering a wry smile to his face. "Come on guys, it can't be that bad. You beat Chitzok before," he told them.
Angela sighed. "I don't think it's that," she paused and looked at her three alien friends. "Who's this 'Martyr Sadler' guy?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle. B.Bop opened his mouth to reply, let out a gurgle, then turned around and disappeared into the back room. A second later he was back with a shoebox filled with photos and articles from a newspaper labelled: The Bogstar News.

He handed the box to Angela and sighed, nursing his head. Angela opened it up and gasped.
She dropped the box in fright.

…Three weeks later (The Bogstar, Roverpod Dock)…

"W-W-Welcome t-to the B-Bog-" "Yeah, yeah." Martyr waved the nervous Bog Guard away. As soon as he'd raised his hand, the guard had shut his mouth. It had been three weeks since Chitzok had set up his home with Martyr, the original two days had extended to a more permanent fixture. They though and acted alike. Both cold-blooded killers.

Bog and Damage's faces were a picture! Their eyes were wide, faces waxy and pale. Their mouths were open.
"Gentleman," Martyr directed a nod at the Martian emperor. He held out his arms. "Are you going to invite me in?" he asked.

Shaboom, standing on Bog's left in her lieutenant uniform, merely had to blink to draw Martyr's gaze to her own. He looked her up and down, grinning. "Hi there…"

"You are here for what reason, Sadler?" Bog asked, forcing to make his voice level. Martyr folded his arms. "Information," he replied, eyes cold. Shaboom flinched.
"About?" Bog questioned, voice shaking. Martyr narrowed his eyes. "Where can I find Commander B.Bop-A-Luna's crew?" he asked.

A hanger door opened, accepting a sleek, custom-built, yellow Roverpod. The artificial breeze that built up around the Bogstar via the gargantuan engines tussled Martyr's hair. His leather jacket opened, slightly, revealing a knife hidden in the lining.

Bog gulped. "Earth," he answered immediately. Martyr cocked his head on one side. "Earth's a big place," he scowled. Bog opened his mouth to speak. It was Damage who broke in. "North America… USA. Mohave Desert."

Shaboom was almost white; her hands were clenching and unclenching. She had tears in her eyes and looked as if she were going to be sick.

Martyr grinned. "Thank you for your co-operation," he replied before skulking back to the black Roverpod waiting in Dock 7. Before leaving, he turned back to Shaboom and winked. A minute later he was flying through space at hyper speed, Chitzok as his pilot.

… Three weeks later (Earth, ZAPZ)…

"How could anyone-?" The pictures and headlines all revolved around the same, fitting title. Martyr's Massacre. The photo on the top of the pile was of a girl. A Martian. She looked around fifteen. Dead.
All the pictures were of dead Martians, except the girls' bodies were clean, unblemished. They were all beautiful girls.

"He's our age," 2-T interjected, picking up some of the photos. "He's a humanoid," Angela looked away from a particularly gory picture. "He hates Martians. He kills them simply because, well…"
For the first time in a while, B.Bop spoke, his voice hoarse. "Because they're Martians," he finished grimly.

It was then that their gauntlets started beeping and they received a message from a very distressed Lieutenant Shaboom Shaboom.
"Hey babes," 2-T grimaced, glad to move onto a more light hearted conversation. But when Shaboom's face appeared, she was anything but light hearted. She was hysterical.
"You guys have got to get outta there!" she screamed, terrified.

Once again, B.Bop's face drained of colour. It confused the kids, because B.Bop always seemed the strongest – yet he was more terrified of Martyr than… than, who knew what else! Do-Wah and 2-T hadn't seemed at all threatened by this guy, as if that now they were on Earth they were safe from any potential Martian threats. After all, they already considered themselves human.

"It's Martyr. Martyr Sadler – he's coming for you three and if you don't get out… if you don't get out right away, then he'll-" Too late. B.Bop was already throwing up all over the floor and 2-T was rushing over and rubbing his back comfortingly.

"Boys? Boys? Do you understand? Take the kids with you, who knows what he'll do to the people you care about… look I've got to go. B.Bop? 2-T? Do-Wah?" none of them replied and the transmission ended. B.Bop was shaking his head. The memories. The memories were flooding back.

"Do you want to take a break?" 2-T asked, making sure he was at eye level with B.Bop. His friend raised his head and nodded, stumbling out back. Dog, swooping over from wherever he'd been hiding, used a ray to make the puke go away and it disappeared, leaving no trace of it ever being there. Handy vacuum, Cedric thought.

"Why is he so scared of this Martyr guy, 2-T? I mean you guys were okay before." Mike put in, but now he could see that his friends were no longer okay. They were scared too, just not letting on. Their eyes were shifting, rapidly, and their skin was whiter, now the same cyan blue as the sky.

2-T took a couple of steadying breaths. "Well… this is going to be very, very confusing for you guys." He paused, looked up at Do-Wah who nodded, and carried on. "B.Bop is Martyr's brother."

Confusion sparked off and the kids rocketed the Martians with questions. Angela was the first to get a word in, or rather, a question in. "But you said Martyr was a humanoid!" She protested.
2-T nodded. "Martyr's parents died on the Bogstar after being brought from Earth, so B.Bop tells me." He waited for this to sink in, but none of the kids understood. 2-T sighed and carried on. "Martyr was from Earth."
"You mean – this guy's a human?" Mike shrieked, appalled. 2-T shrugged. "So B.Bop tells me."

Angela started to feel her stomach knot up. It reminded her of the first day she met the Martians. How B.Bop had looked so suspiciously at them… scared and also pitying. She didn't want to push the thought any further.

"But hang on, wouldn't that make B.Bop human too?" Cedric frowned, confused.
"Martyr was his foster brother," which made complete sense and the kids went 'ah' in understanding. "Martyr's real parents were… well, tortured."
"WHAT? But that's horrible!" the kids all gasped at the same time. 2-T smiled faintly. "B.Bop's family took him in. They grew up together, like twins. Until B.Bop started getting closer and closer to me."
"You grew up together, too." Angela nodded.

2-T smiled at her thankfully. "Yes and Martyr was jealous. He always considered B.Bop as a brother. There was an accident. Well… B.Bop's parents brought me with them on a family holiday to Earth – they thought it would be better if Martyr was back on his home planet.

"B.Bop and I were playing in this big Wendy house. Even though we were eleven, we'd never seen one before and it was fun. Martyr came in to play with us but I snapped at him and-"
2-T stopped, wiped tears of regret and looked up. "I hit him. I'll never forget it, because he ran outside and instead of calling for his mum and dad he… he… he ran and got some petrol from the garage. He drenched the Wendy house in it, but he hadn't realised that I'd gone inside when his back had been turned. Then he flicked a match and the whole house went up in flames."

"And B.Bop…" Angela began.
"Was inside." 2-T nodded. "Martyr watched his favourite, his only brother scream and scream to be let out. The door was jammed. In the end, B.Bop bolted out the window and ended up a charred mess on the lawn."

"But then how did that turn Martyr bad?" Ange asked.
Do-Wah, finally speaking, gave Ange a funny look. "B.Bop went to hospital. I don't mean a human hospital neither. He was taken to the Interplanetary Hospital and he was in so much pain… Martyr went to ask his forgiveness and…"

"B.Bop told him in other words to 'get lost'?"
"Well, that's the polite version, yes." Do-Wah nodded. "Martyr ran away. Lonely. Unaccepted." He shrugged. "Became evil sometime along the way. Someone told him about his parents and he swore revenge. Now he hates all Martians and B.Bop's had nightmares about his brother ever since."

Do-Wah and 2-T cast worried glances at the back room. Whispering they crept close to the kids. "His scars are under his suit. That's why he never takes his shirt off."

A thought twigged in Ange's mind. Whenever they went to the beach, he would never go in the sea. He sunbathed with his suit on. He'd never take it off. Never.

"Poor B.Bop." and before she could stop herself, she said, "Poor Martyr,"
2-T's head snapped up and he frowned. "You shouldn't pity evil," he told her, eyes narrowing. Angela opened her mouth in protest. "But –"

It occurred to her that 2-T had been just as jealous as Martyr and B.Bop's friendship than Martyr of his friendship. She scowled and stormed off.