Summary: The kittens are all grown up, as well as their problems and their responsibilities. But some cats refuse to grow up, at least not correctly, as the former tom kits decide to play what could be considered by a most a rather dangerous game with some of the other cats in the tribe.

Rated: M for strong, suggestive language, and (not necessarily explicit) scenes in later chapters.

Author's Note: This story is proving to be a bit of an experiment for me, as it is shaping up to be dialogue heavy, but information heavy, and the balance between the two is slightly daunting to me. If at any time things become overwhelmingly confusing, please point it out to me. Things may get confusing on purpose, but I need to know when too much is too much. Also, most cats are easily defined by coat color, but Plato, Pouncival, and Tumblebrutus are relatively the same color, which makes them a little more difficult for me to refer to at times without placing their names in the story a million times - a redundancy I usually like to avoid. So, please give me your wonderfully helpful feedback, and I hope you enjoy the story! And if you have a better name for the story, please help me, cause this is the working title, and I can't think of a good other one.

Disclaimer: I don't own Cats, the musical by the brilliant Andrew Lloyd Webber, or the poems they originated from, from the incredible poet T. S. Eliot, or any of the characters presented here…except for the dog, but he has no name, and he's not important…So I guess it's safe to say any character that are mine aren't important and easily disregardable unless they end up turning the story upside down…which they won't…Anyways, moving on...

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Chapter one - Proposition

Plato slowly opened his eyes, shielding his face from the sun with his paw, as he looked up to the clouds. With a short sigh, he sat up, looking around in somewhat of a haze. Tumblebrutus was sitting nearby, looking bored. Plato shrugged. "You would think with age," he began, "he would have learned to be on time."

"Some things you never grow out of," Tumblebrutus stated wisely. Plato just made a face and lied down on his stomach. Then his ear twitched.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear wha--oh, that." Both cats turned to see a black and tan Pollicle chasing a small brown and white tom down the streets, barking loudly, snapping his jaws just centimeters away from the tom's tail. "Shall we?"

"You know, they say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results," Plato said, stretching. "But he's so blissful that way..." The two toms jumped down from the car they were lying on.

The dog barked, cornering the cat behind a bush, but was unable to get into the bush himself. The tom turned and hissed, swiping at the dog. The Pollicle did everything in its power to shove itself deeper into the bush. Three inches. Two inches. One inch. And teeth were just about the snap shut on the tom when…

Something hit the dog on its back, causing it to remove itself from the foliage and look to what hit him. Another cat with a patch over his eye was standing by the side, looking on curiously. The dog growled, before turning back to its favored prey. But in front of the shrubbery, a white-faced and brown cat had his eyes wide, hissing lowly, and swiping at the dog.

Shocked, the Pollicle backed away. Before he knew what had happened, three tom cats were in front of him, each with their fur puffed out, hissing lowly, ready to attack at any movement the dog made. To the Pollicle, it seemed the cat he was chasing had multiplied.

Rather than become a scratching post, the dog turned tail and trotted off.

The cat who was originally running for his life jumped forward in elation at being safe and yelled, "That's what you get!" The two toms just looked at him.

"Pouncival, you idiot," Tumblebrutus shook his head.

Plato, on the other paw, whacked the tom upside the head, to which Pouncival muttered a small cry of pain. "You're not a kitten anymore. He's not a puppy anymore. Don't you think teasing him constantly is getting a little dangerous?"

"Don't take it so seriously, guys," Pouncival frowned, rubbing his head. "We were just playing."

"The games he wants to play with you, you wouldn't like," Tumblebrutus said. "Can you squeak like a chew toy? Frankly, I'm happy not knowing that bit of information about you. But I think he would like to find out."

"He almost had you that time," Plato nodded his head to the other two, and they set off on their way. "Will you listen to us this time and just let it go?"

"He started it!" The three toms walked towards the junkyard. They were running late. Alonzo had something he wanted to say to them, but preferred they all be there to hear at the same time. Considering how busy Alonzo had been since Old Deuteronomy - rest his dear soul - passed away a few months prior, they were very curious what could make him take time out of his demanding schedule and want to talk with them.

Things had changed so much in the junkyard. With Old Deuteronomy gone, all the kittens grown up, and no new additions to the tribe of which to speak, everything seemed uneasily calm. Previous problems were often much louder, much more animated and far easier to solve than the problems that replaced them. These problems weren't solved as simply as fighting their way out of it…

Plato and the others came out from behind an old tire to see Alonzo sitting by himself, enjoying a peaceful moment. "Once upon a time," Pouncival whispered to the others, "we would have tackled him right out of that daydream of his." His tail lashed back and forth at the thought.

"Yes," Plato nodded. "Kittens would do that." He looked to Pouncival, who narrowed his eyes at Plato. Then the patched tom grabbed his tail to make it stop lashing. "Come on…" The three bi-colored toms walked over to Alonzo.

The black and white tom slowly opened his eyes to see he was no longer alone. He got up wearily, and tried his best to smile, but none came. "You look tired," Tumblebrutus observed.

"You think?" Alonzo put his paws on his hips. "Look, I'm going to make this quick, because I think I have some time for a nap before I have to go out again. You know how when Munkustrap was in my position, he had me as his second?"

"It wasn't that long ago, 'Lonz," Pouncival smiled.

"Well, I've been thinking a lot lately. Munkustrap had me, and that made his job a lot easier. I mean, A LOT easier. He actually got to sleep a good twelve hours most days."

"That's not much," Pouncival remarked.

"I know," Alonzo said. "I get about eight." All three toms made a noise of disgust at the thought. "Exactly. Now, out of all the toms in the junkyard, I've been thinking. You three haven't exactly been pulling your weight around here."

"What?" Plato asked, outraged.

"Well, not that others have been, to an extent," Alonzo said, putting a paw to his forehead in an attempt to avoid a migraine. "But at least I know what they're like. They aren't fighters, not like the three of you could be. I've seen you guys strutting around the streets, like your something special."

"If you have time to see us strutting around the streets," Tumblebrutus marveled, "Does that mean you're not doing your job right?" The glare from the black and white silenced the younger tom.

"My point is," continued Alonzo, "That we need more toms to protect the tribe. And you three would be perfect. Well, when I say that, I mean--"

"You're asking us to be second?" Pouncival asked, eyes wide with excitement. "That would be--"

"Impossible," Tumblebrutus interjected. "Only one cat can be second - the one Alonzo counts on. There can't be three seconds! …Unless it's three seconds, as in the time, but…"

"Yeah," Plato nodded in agreement. "And Munkustrap isn't exactly old news! He can still hold his own better than any cat. I mean…except against Macavity."

Tumblebrutus smiled. "It's not like he inherited Old Deuteronomy's age along with the title of leader. Hey…does that mean we have to put Old in front of his name, since he's leader, now?"

"Old Munkustrap," Pouncival said, testing the name, to which he seemed satisfied. "Think he has to start walking with a limp now?"

"Or get ninety-nine wives?" Plato interjected.

"Or gain a whole lot of weight?" Tumblebrutus finished.

"Will you three shut up?" Alonzo barked, and the three looked at him in confusion. "Old Deuteronomy only just died, and you're making fun of him as though you don't care! Have you no decency?" The three brown and whites hung their heads at varying levels, as they felt different degrees of shame. "Maybe it was a bad idea to ask you."

"No!" Plato said quickly.

"We were just…" Tumblebrutus thought for a moment. "We still treat him as though he's here, Alonzo, that's all. It's not easy to accept that he's gone." The other two nodded in agreement. Alonzo looked them over, but sighed, with no other choice but to believe them.

"I don't have time for this. Now, I was going to say…before I was interrupted…that I think its best - with the way the three of you act together - that only one of you becomes the second." The three toms were ready to protest, but stopped at the lifted paw of the black and white. "No, you three work it out between yourselves! I don't want to know anything about it. I have enough to do without it. Come to me when you're ready to begin training." Alonzo turned and trudged off, ready for a good long nap, but knowing he may not get one.

"That lazy little…" Plato trailed off, as he watched the corner Alonzo had disappeared around.

"He just doesn't want us bitching about it later," Pouncival said.

"Or he thinks it would be fun to turn us against each other," Tumblebrutus mused, a smile crossing his face. Then, quite suddenly, all the cats grew serious.

The three toms looked at each other, each with a million things running through their minds, but none actually voicing their opinions. They eyed each other carefully, each looking at the others in an accusatory manner. Finally, Plato spoke up. "Well…I guess I should tell him to start my training."

"What?" Pouncival asked, fur puffing out.

"What could possibly make you think that?" Tumblebrutus spat, fur equally puffed out. "Alonzo needs a second. You don't like following anyone if you don't have to."

"But think of what a position can get me?" Plato grinned. "I'd get trained by the best, I'd have high status in the tribe, and the queens would never say no to me."

Pouncival's ears went flat against his head. He shared a glance with Tumblebrutus, but neither one would say what they were thinking - that it was only one queen he was concerned with getting her attention. "Look," Pouncival began, "While you may use your power for evil, hear me out. I happen to actually like the idea of fighting. And I'm more flexible than you. In personality as well!" He gave a charming smile, which failed to impress his adversaries.

"Well," Tumblebrutus piped in. "I'm sure the second would have to know when to fight and when not to. And who says he has to be strong?"

"So," Pouncival pursed his lips. "You would want you to be the second, oh weak one?"

At this, the three began to argue over one another. The exact nature of their arguments could not be heard, but it seemed the words, "weakling," "terrified," and "poser" were used, along with a few "blah, blah, blah's" from Pouncival, as he eventually figured he wasn't being heard anyway.

Plato sighed. "Alright!" he said, putting his paw up to stop the two. "This is ridiculous."

"You're telling me!" Tumblebrutus scoffed. "Pounce doesn't even know how to argue!"

"No." Plato put a paw to his forehead. "Not that! Think about it! Why are we fighting for just one of us to be the second, when all three of us could be?" He gave a moment for that to sink in.

"But…" Pouncival's ear lay flat against his head. "He only wanted one of us to be second. He specifically said that…you know, before he gave his lazy-ass decision to make us choose who."

"Right," Plato said, ignoring the last comment. "As back-up, it only makes sense that one of us be second. But what if only one of us takes the position…but the three of us are really in charge of that position?"

Tumblebrutus' eyes widened. "What do you mean?" he asked, though he could already guess.

"Each of us has our own personality, our own attributes, our own skills that we could bring to the job. Separated, that's all we are: one cat in one position, with only that much power. But as the three of us combined, hiding behind one position, and with the knowledge the three of us have, think of the power we could have?"

"Wow…" Pouncival smiled to Tumblebrutus. "The tribe would be chaos."

"Or bend to our whim," Tumblebrutus corrected, trying to make it sound better than a coup.

"It's just a thought," Plato shrugged, waving his paw as though dismissing the other two ideas. "But as long as he only came to one of the three of us, we're set."

"Yeah," Tumblebrutus nodded. "But who would be the actual second? We still have to tell Alonzo who we chose among ourselves."

Plato twitched his tail. "You know…I haven't really thought of that part yet. Because… I want to be the second." The two were about to resume arguments with Plato, but he put up a paw to stop them. "And I know you two do as well. But rather than argue, I wouldn't want to jeopardize our friendship."

"Well," Pouncival sat back against an old soap box. "How about a competition? And the last cat standing wins?"

"What kind of competition?" Tumblebrutus asked. "Because I'm not about to fight with either of you." Pouncival frowned at the disregard to his idea. "Maybe something different, like a game of wits or--"

"Shh!" Plato stood up straight, the other two looking over to see what had caused the tom to get so rigid. There was some talking around the corner, and some giggling, before four young queens revealed themselves the source of the noise. They were talking lowly among themselves, enjoying their conversation, when they noticed the toms, and stopped.

Everyone was still for a moment. The queens looked to one another; the toms just watched the queens.

Finally, a calico stepped forward and spoke. "Hey, guys!" Etcetera smiled to them. She had grown up quite a bit. Her intense conviction to the Rum Tum Tugger had died down to simple stalker-like symptoms, and most of her overzealous nature was a thing of the past. That didn't make her any less a chore to sit and talk to, however. Her mouth ran a mile a minute, as her thoughts tried unsuccessfully to catch up with it. "How are you doing?"

"We're not doing anything!" Tumblebrutus said quickly. Pouncival elbowed him in the ribs.

"That wasn't her question," he hissed. To the queen, he said, "We're fine. Hot day out today, isn't it?"

"Mm," Etcetera considered, looking up to the sky, speckled with clouds. "At least there's a cool breeze."

"Yeah," Electra agreed. Her fur was mostly black, so she would be most concerned about the heat.

"We're going to take a walk around the neighborhood," Etcetera announced proudly. "Probably find a nice shade to lie under. Wanna join us—?" She, too, was elbowed in the ribs, by Jemima. "OW!" she cried. "What was that for!" Jemima made a slight head-movement, unintentionally conspicuous to all, bringing their attention to Victoria and Plato.

Plato had been keeping his eye on Victoria most of the time the queens were there. Victoria, on the other hand, did everything she could to avert her attention. While Plato had grown into a strong cat, admirable for both his intelligence and his strength; and Victoria had grown even more graceful and beautiful, but far quieter; the two cats seemed to have something stopping them from being as happy as they were as kittens. None of the others were aware of what happened between the two cats after that Jellicle Ball, for none would dare ask them. Victoria would simply go quiet, and look away. And Plato, strong as he was, would get a pained look in his eye, and change the subject, with an air of intimidation that assured the end of questioning.

"We should get going!" Etcetera said, taking Victoria's paw. Then, deciding, she had been far too obvious in her reaction, decided to take Jemima's paw as well, leaving Electra to trail behind. "I will talk to you guys later, okay?"

"Whatever," was Plato's only remark, as the queens rushed off. The toms were quiet. Plato's tail was flicking, as he was lost in thought. Tumblebrutus and Pouncival looked to each other helplessly. Finally, Plato made a face and looked to Pouncival. "Of all the things to ask them, you chose the weather? How cliché are you?"

"It…seemed like a good topic!"

Plato shook his head. Then, after a moment of staring to where the other cats ran off to, a wicked grin slowly began to creep across his face. "I know what kind of competition we could have."

"Huh?" Tumblebrutus asked. "OH! Right! I almost forgot about that!"

"We have to do a competition in which none of us has had any success in the past. Something where it's equal ground for all of us. And whoever wins gets the job as second."

"Sounds good," Pouncival nodded. "But come on. What's one thing that we've all sucked at in the past?"

Plato smiled. "Queens."

Tumblebrutus flinched. "What? Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean…what with…I mean…" He pointed to the queens who had just past, not wanting to say the name each of them was thinking at the moment.

"No, not those queens," Plato said, still holding his smile. The other two looked at each other.

What other queens could he possibly have in mind?