ME: This is chapter eight, courtesy of 1-1 Marines! I've got a MAJOR test next week, plus I hope to work on the novel I mentioned (don't think I'll give out hints). So this may be my only update for a while. If I fail this test, let's just say someone else is gonna have to pick up my work on this site. I suggest those of you who can print my stories off if I don't show signs of life in May. Or if I post something along the lines of, "AHH! I HAVE TO KISS THE INTERNET GOOD-BYE AND SAY HELLO TO TEXTBOOKS!", I suggest some of you print off my work. Or commit them to memory. Either way, I've gotta pass for the show to go on. Unfortunately this chapter wont have too much action.

"So Miss Galore," came the voice from the iMac, "I trust you are doing well?"

"All targets that I marked are down for the count," she said. "Local CIS and MEOWS operatives have been eliminated. My carriers, my own personal rival Tinkles from the Feline Liberation Front and his lacky seem to be on vacation. Not to mention the MacDougall mercenaries. And a plane was just shot down."

"Understood. 'Call of the Wild' is to be yelled. Right now."

Kitty shook her head. Useless since her fellow evil doer couldn't see her. "Not yet."

"What?"

"I said, 'Not yet'. There a problem?"

"Why not right now?" The other villain said. "You've got an Apple product for Petes sake! Just push the buttons and let the CD you have topple humanity!"

"Stupid teenage brats are hogging all the WiFi," she said. "The late Steve Jobbs didn't prepare for that. Until Universal Studios Hollywood closes at eight, my paws are tied with duct tape behind my back."

"But that's thirty minutes from now!"

"Then I'll wait thirty minutes," she said, genuinely confused by the hostility her colleauge was displaying. "Wait, do you think-."

"Never mind! Just drink some milk or something!" Hang up. Quite rude.

Kitty Galore, however, poured a glass for herself solely due to the mysterious individuals advice. People were mean sometimes! Burping, she then decided that the possibility of the agents being alive was roughly a zero to a quintillion.

Only cats could land on their feet. Right?

THAT was for humor. Just illustates Kitty isn't alone and all. Hope you "dogs" liked your treat as Gustavo Rock would put it. Until further notice, 1-1 Marines out!