Cat Revolution Chapter 2, a garfield fanfic

The Cat Revolution

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of "Garfield" they are owned by Jim Davis, and this story is for sheer amusement. For this story, I placed it in modern times, but use tactics of the Civil War, marching in formations and firing as such. I try to keep it simple for those not familiar with this so there's no confusion. Enjoy.

Approaching Indianapolis on three fronts, Garfield moved his base from Muncie to Yorktown to over see his final conquest for all was going right for him and his glorious cause. Since Bean Hill, there had been no fighting. That was due to the fact that all dogs, lacking leadership, were mixed up in the state's capital. Only one animal seemed to retain control and some sense of order and that was Dilger, whom was struggling to keep dogs and humans in line, to clear roads for traffic, and gather numbers. So far, his company swelled to over 200, but that wasn't enough to fight an army estimated at 10,000. Though fictious, Garfield's army was steadily growing, picking up addition recruits in his captured territories such as Yorktown. Enough trickled through to grown an additional brigade. Labeled the 3rd, all three compiled his first infantry division. To command such a unit, Garfield should have selected the very best individual. Someone with fortitude, knowledge, and courage. Instead, he selected Gold, his advisor. No one knew as to why he had come up with this kind of decision, then again, no one questioned it either.

From the very start, Gold was discovered not to be the best officer material. Her demeanor was sour when around staff members and uncaring when it comes to matter regarding her troops. All immoderate work was placed onto subordinates whom were woefully understaff in moving a full division of nearly 11,000. With her commanding this new division, she selected a good friend a petite Persian short haired, Hassan to command 3rd Brigade. One problem always plagued this new brigade commander, though well mattered and gentle, he was skittish and sulked under heavy pressure, a defect that would prove costly in future battles.

Two days following the battle of Bean Hill, Garfield was still in Yorktown, supposively collecting more troops. Heavy rains had turned fields into marshlands and roads slippery to drive also adding to the decision to wait. Nearby, a golden opportunity was slipping away. Still in the state of shock and confusion, dogs milled about aimlessly, crowding into any establishment willing to provide shelter to them. All sense of honor and defense had left them.

Gold, however, sympathized with her leader, she needed time to shape up her division and to gather better weapons. Taking heed with Dilger's brief, yet destructive stand, Zoos wanted to have firearms distributed to his command. Jumping right on it, Gold sought for some but rejected her own order on account that carrying them along with ammunition would burden travel time. Pleading vigorously, Zoos managed to influence Gold enough to have sharpshooters be given captured muskets. It was enough to satisfy both parties.

By now, a factory in Muncie, the Dews Iron Works, began producing what they consider artillery pieces. Snub nosed iron tubes just three feet long and a 3 inch diameter at the muzzle. Placed on a small carriage, it weighed only 800 pounds, rather light, and not real powerful considering that it was a smoothbore. Even so, two pieces were moved to Yorktown via rail, all of this work was done by human prisoners, and ready for field trials.

As Garfield's army formed, Dilger was struggling to move. Though Odie, Arlene, and Nermal had joined him, this German Shepherd was finding it difficult to move just across the street. Refugees packed roads and alley ways. Stragglers littered sidewalks, sleeping, wounded, dying. No order. Debris of all sorts littered the roads. On one neighborhood, a set of eyes watched from a window at all the chaos.

"What do you suppose is coming?" asked a youthful voice.

"Not sure, but I bet it's something big," replied a much different tone right beside him.

From this vantage point, these two unknowns watched as Dilger and his company moved through throngs of people and animals, trying in vain to regain control, to organize, and to move. Homes were being converted to hotels to make way for refugees. So many, oh so many there. Where could they sleep? All shelters have been filled to capacity. From all corners of the state, people were moving in to seek refuge from a cat revolution. At the same time, dogs were trying to muster up. Dilger didn't trust a single one of their souls outside his company.

"All they have our their own personal goals." concurred Boxer his Doberman pincher aide, "Neither one has the strength to stand up what needs to be done, only what they want to be done."

A sudden rap came to the door, calmly descending to answer it was Calvin nieve as to whom it could be. Unhooking the dead bolt, turning shiny brass knob, he slowly opened it to reveal Dilger, reared up on his hind legs staring down at him.

"hi, can I help you?" he choked out in disbelief.

"We need shelter," Dilger said to him, "for me and my company."

Looking over his shoulder at the crowd behind Dilger, Calvin was amazed to see them. Grizzled look, dirt caked, exhausted dogs of all sorts, including two cats mixed up in the bunch. What a sight to behold to see them in his front yard. Reluctant at first, the boy finally gave in and accepted them inside his home. With ample space downstairs totake on most of this number, the dogs fanned out to get some rest as Arlene and Nermal made a V line for the kitchen to prepare meals under Dilger's expressed order. Watching them from his staircase, Calvin and later Hobbes were both astonished, without saying a word to either of them as they entered and began to lounge about and eat.

Finally, Hobbes jumped up and spoke to Dilger, "Just one-second. How what is going on here?"

Sighing, Dilger took the two over to a couch, sat them down and began to explain what was unfolding outside. "It's simple. The cats have begun a revolution to overthrow not just dogs, but humans as the dominate species."

This made Calvin gulp and looked fidgety at Hobbes whom was a tiger, therefore a relation to cats. Both sensed what each other was thinking and at that very spot, Hobbes swore a ablibed but stone hard oath of loyalty to. This placed every at ease for the moment.

"Even so," Dilger continued, "they're numbers far outpaced our own and they are springing up in every town and state. We need this house to set up our base."

"Why not get others to join you?" Calvin asked them. Looking around, he saw Odie whom was distinguishably different looking than these other dogs, "There are several dogs out there, I saw them."

"Wish we could, but those dogs belong to different lodges. Different groups with their own political thoughts and gains. We are different. We serve man and man only. Done so for centuries, far different from those outside whom only want man so they could live with shelter and food. Without humans, they would die out."

"If it's cats against dogs, then why are two of them in my kitchen right now?" Calvin asked him referring to Nermal and Arlene.

"They are all right cats, those that have no loyalty to Garfield, the cat's leader. You can trust them as well as your tiger here."

His words were harsh but correct. Sensing that his home would mean the difference of this war, Calvin and Hobbes both asked to join in their struggle. Agreeing, Dilger set up ground rules. He would take out his company again later that night, and he wanted the house to be reserved for them. Fortifications would also be needed in case the invaders arrived both inside and out. This the boy and tiger could do alone, but Arlene and Nermal were both asked to help out, Odie was to go out with them. These four would remain behind as the dogs headed out again, this time for another battle.

"Let's go, boys," Dilger ordered.

His command rose up to his calling and filed out. Taking up a musket, Odie went with them, his tongue tucked in his mouth, eye lids narrowly opened, his cheerful demeanor now straight forward and serious. Arlene saw him out, "Be careful you pooch."

None knew where they were going, just find cats and kill them. Couldn't be far out, they were almost at the city limits. Everyone was going west, they were going east, fighting refugees and skulkers trying to get by. A few brave souls decided it was best to join up and did so, further bolstering Dilger's numbers, but it wasn't enough to face possibly to full brigades.

Back at the house, Calvin opened up the garage to find the work bench and all of the tools, wood, and necessities needed to build. Grinning from ear to ear, the boy clambered up and prepared the ban saw to cut planks of wood as Hobbes feed them in. Both cats were tasked in nailing them to windows inside. It was a grueling task that only Calvin seemed to enjoy but he was working the power. Window after window were covered up except for one slat so rifles could be fired through. Back door was barred, garage and second floor windows as well. Grumbling between them, Arlene and Nermal were still famished from their stay in Garfield's basement. Calvin did not allow breaks, work needed to be done. He felt his sense of duty was in turning his house into a fortress. If cats were indeed coming, this would be the focal point of their assaults if he got it up in time. Those two cats were lagging behind, planks of wood were being piled up at his feet, needing to be carted away. Hobbes went to search for these feline female companions and found them sitting in the kitchen taking a break with water.

"Why are you sitting around?" Hobbes asked them in a regular tone.

"Look, we need to take a break. we escaped from one of Garfield's prisons with little food or water. So, forgive us please, we just need a rest," Arlene said to him. Sympathetic, Hobbes allowed them to take a drink whilst the boy could be heard cursing from the garage for someone to remove all this wood.

By noon, the house was still being worked on in all sorts. All windows were covered two planks thick for better protection. As they dug and nailed, Dilger's comrades were doing the same thing at an old interception on the outskirts of town. This old cross road overlooked a patch of swamp to the North, directly in the line of approach from the North west, or from Yorktown. Thanks to the heavy rains in the past few days, this dry land was a quagmire of swamp and high grass. On it's far bank was a steep incline where dogs were busy digging a trench. Selecting this field came like a light bulb turning on in Dilger's mind. It was natural that cats would take the most direct route to Indianapolis. Cats hate water and will strive to seek and chance to avoid it. Dilger had moved in, just in the nick of time. With his over burdened company stretched to the limit, he stretched them out to cover a front a half mile long with just more than 200 individuals or one for every three feet. Desperately thin as they were, Dilger was confident that he held most of the advantages.

First shots of battle were exchanged by sharpshooters in around one that afternoon as Gold moved up her brigades one after the other marched down the road towards Big Stream. Once first shots were exchanged, the road was abandoned and Gold deployed her troops on the opposite banks of the swamp, preparing to take her enemy head on. In addition, two artillery pieces moved up and boomed for the first time, two soft ball sized lead spheres splashed into the swamp just shy of it's targets. Not rattled, dogs waited tensely, muskets resting on the rim of their dugouts as they came on. Watching anxiously at the networks of trenches he faced on the right flank, Zoos thought that this would be the end.

"This will be a big battle," said his aide.

"Yes, and I doubt we will see it's end." Zoos replied in a monotone voice never taking his gaze off of those dogs.

Round after round were pumped at the trenches, spraying dirt and water in puffs of explosion but did nothing but waste ammunition. When those two ceased, it signaled the commencement of the infantry assault. Zoos moved abreast with his two sister units in crossing over Big stream. According to him, he stepped off at four that afternoon. Hassan was on the left. Zoos could see him jumping up and down trying to keep his soldiers marching in step like humans, not to fire or waste their shots at long range, despite the fact that sharpshooters were already nipping at their ranks. Undeterred, the three brigades of cats sloshed through the swamp, the embanked road to their left. It was almost neck deep in places. Waiting for the perfect chance, Dilger watched them through a firing slit. His sharpshooters were picking some off, but the remainder were waiting to deliver a volley. Just as they were about to ford to his side of the bank, he gave the command, "Give it to them!"

A perfect spew of flame and white smoke belched forth, tearing into the cats like a perfect scythe, felling dozens in a moment. Others tumbled back into the muck trying to swim back or dive underneath to avoid the deadly fire.

Watching the unfolding battle from afar, Gold sat with her staff on a small knoll, hearing a distant rattle of musketry. She was nothing more than a mere spectator at this battle. Around some point in time, she vainly dispatched an order to call of the assault, however, this message never reached Zoos or any other brigade commander. For Dilger, his defense was holding firm. Not a single cat could scale it's farthest embankment. Artillery boomed, rifles cracked, wounded moaned, and dead bobbed as it went on for hours. Moving about on the crest, Dilger shouted his encouragement as his German dogs were hurling back, enacting their revenge for Bean Hill.

"It was a wild turkey shoot," he recalled. "Most quivered, heads barely appearing above the surface of the water and we shot them where they were."

No cats carried muskets to return this devastating fire. Just sling shots. It was hopeless. After several bloody hours, Zoos was fed up. No support was coming his way. The attack was called off as the sun began to set, leaving Dilger and his bunch in command of the field. For dogs, it was a glorious victory, yet this battle had little meaning. Garfield was stopped here, yet continued his advance elsewhere. Zoos lost heavily in terms of numbers. His original brigade, including his old 1st Infantry Regiment whom suffered over 60 percent loss of the 500 cats of it's original complement. In all, Zoos lost nearly 2,000 members in his futile assaults, all for not.

Dilger's losses, combined with his tactical knowledge and hearty breastworks, amount to only five slightly wounded.

No time to celebrate, or bask in fruits of victory. Garfield's other brigades advanced around the flanks of Dilger, forcing him to withdrawal during the night, living to fight another day. This fight at Swamp Crossing delayed cats advance for another day. Still though, with that last line now gone, Garfield had his sights fully set on taking the capital. Disorganized as they were, Dilger had bought that one day to have defenses better organized. Roads were barricaded, homes turned into bunkers, yards became killing fields when trees and bushes were cleared. Wounded and refugees were evacuated to downtown and dogs filed in towards the front.

Huffing at the double quick through narrow alley ways in which they had no knowledge of, the company took several detours getting back to Calvin's house, getting lost several times before finally locating it, by then, it was dark. Still working, Hobbes at first didn't recognize them and called out, "Halt, who goes there?"

Hoarse and fatigued, Dilger replied, "Dilger..." unable to complete it with his lungs.

"Who?"

"Dilger..."

Uneasy, the tiger picked up a piece of 2 x 4 for a club and cautiously approached the group whom was halted on the side walk.

Watching this from an upstairs window, Arlene shouted down, "For Pete's sake, it's Dilger, let them in."

Even with their victory, it didn't turn the tide. It was only a matter of time before cats came into the city whom was still unprepared. Calvin told them that several groups pleaded to be let in, even one tried forcing their way inside, but Hobbes beat them back, even so, the front door had it's hinges damaged. A minor set back. Seeking a place to rest, the dogs cleaned their muskets and feasted on a small meal of meat served by Arlene. It was enough to satisfy their growling stomachs through the night. As they settled in, Gold pushed her division to the very outskirts of the city. Perched on some high ground, she surveyed the chaos that still reigned over the city. Many small fires dotted the landscape on an otherwise bleak night. Chants, roars, and cheers could be heard from dogs down below, completely unaware of cats present.

Twelve howitzers were brought up to this piece of high ground and immediately began shelling, throwing explosive rounds indiscriminately into houses and streets, scattering people in every direction. As they exploded, infantry pressed forward, three brigades strong with more well underway.

"We put up everything we could to better ourselves," said Hobbes, "we moved furniture, even the car, gathered all the food from abandoned houses, even took ammunition and weapons. A lot of people left in a hurry." It wasn't enough though for a prolonged siege. Enough food and clean water for a few days, and enough powder for his muskets for one good battle. Even though Hobbes moved everything to fortify walls and blocked the driveway, hacked down several branches that obscured view from upstairs, he wasn't satisfied with this so called fort and thought it would be best to flee whilst there was still time. Calvin protested this loudly, "This is my house, and I will not abandon it. My parents are out there, and they will be home any minute!"

Dilger had news for him, "Your parents are now in a prison camp, kid. Might as well face facts, you're on your own."

Tinkering with a radio upstairs in the parents bed room, Arlene struggled to gain any information from the outside. What was happening elsewhere? Was Garfield's influence spreading beyond just Muncie? Indeed it was. Gold moved with unrelenting drive in trying to take this prize all part of her own plot to please Garfield and win his favor as successor or so the image seemed. Regiment after regiment were being fed into the campaign as the days led up to now. Two brigades, those that participated at Yorktown were now storming into the suburbs. Pillaging was rampant as people were taken into captivity, homes were torched or confiscated to of other use. As movements were observed from his bed room window, Calvin sank into despair. What was happening all around him? Just yesterday, he and Hobbes enjoyed a game of Calvinball, and now, cats were moving about outside armed with rifles or slingshots and battering his walls. downstairs were dogs, barricading themselves in his house and cats were tinkering with his parent's radio.

"All right. Hold the phone. Someone please tell me what is happening here!" he yelled descending the staircase. "Why are dogs fighting cats?"

"Garfield went nuts!" Nermal yelled out from the kitchen.

"Whose Garfield?" asked Hobbes with a raised eyebrow.

Arlene stepped out, holding a large pitcher of water. She carefully glided over to several soldiers, filling up cups. As she did so, she began to speak in a monotone voice, almost to herself, "Garfield was a friend of mine. A close friend. We shared a lot, singing on the fences. He was selfish, fat, uncaring. Then, one day, he went mad."

Eyes fell upon her with those words. The whole house was cast in a hush. When her task was finished, Arlene said nothing else and returned to the kitchen.

"Well, there's something you don't hear everyday," Calvin voice broke the silence.

As the hours passed, few got any sleep. Sentries on the roof kept a vigilant watch. Distant puffs of artillery were seen towards the North east, this alerted Dilger whom could not get a winks worth of sleep downstairs. His delaying actions had brought nothing major for his canine colleagues whom refused to anything more than mill about, mindless. His philosophy came towards them was true. No cats were seen though, no sense in alerting everyone just yet.

Dawn came, and a very uneasy Dilger descended the stair case. Clustered all about, practically at his feet, was his company. Groggy, mumbling softly to one another in the darkness, they were almost like zombies with their weary eyes, staring into walls and ceilings. Awakening in his bed, Calvin left his bed, leaving Hobbes to hog all of the pillows. Going into the kitchen, oblivious to his surroundings, Calvin opened the refrigerator, fetched a gallon of milk to begin his breakfast of several bowls of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs. Taking down a bowl from the pantry, he completed his tasks, bowl, spoon, milk, cereal and waltzed into the living room, climbed into the recliner, activated the television, and began to enjoy himself. The sudden noise of animated cartoons stirred up those around him. Munching into his meal, Calvin began aware that there were individuals around him. His eyes, pulled open to it's fullest extent, gazed left and right, seeing those individuals. Mouth was full of his sugar slosh, cheeks bulging, hand unsteady in holding his spoon and bowl. A figure loomed beside him, took the remote control from the arm rest in which it lay, and promptly deactivated the television, much to Calvin's slurring protest. It was Arlene whom did the deed, but she ignored his muffled cries and returned to her sleep not far away.

Biting his lips against the cold wind that blew into his face, Hobbes sat on the roof, just outside Calvin's bedroom window, keeping a vigilant watch towards the North east as a red sun began to rise over the horizon, promising to be a warm day. Rubbing his paws together, blowing his hot breath into them, the tiger worried about this day would bring to this house. If rumors were true that cats had indeed thrown a revolution, what then? He was a feline, but had already sworn loyalty to humans. If he was captured, they might execute him for being a traitor. The greatest rivalry was unfolding right before him, cats versus dogs and he was in the middle of it.

Not more than a few miles distant, Garfield slumbered away in his bed, which was moved to a new camp just on the outskirts of the capital. His breakfast, quite large, was being prepared already by a small army of cooks. The aroma it created hovered over the camp, arousing slumbering soldiers towards the hot stoves. They were given some fish, meats, and water, very little to what he was being given. Garfield boasted it was his gift for being the divine leader.

On the other hand, Zoos awoke to a growling stomach. Neither he, or any of his soldiers, have received their daily rations. Having marched all the way to Yorktown, the cooks were unable to keep up since all were attached to feed Garfield. Sawing wood in abandoned houses in the suburbs, the cats saw no humans ever since entering the area, chased off by the artillery. With them went food, including fresh meats. Some barrels of pickled fish were discovered in the basement of a butcher shop. It was pitiful, but no one complained when they were opened and cooked to settle their growling stomachs. As they fried, broiled, or boiled their meats, a messenger came by with a letter from Gold for Zoos. In it, she expressed extreme prejudice towards "tardiness in his command" for failing to take most of the suburbs while it was still dark. Growling under his breath, Zoos crumbled the letter, threw it to the ground, and barked for his soldiers to fail in. This they did so, chewing on bits of fish as they formed up and prepared to move out.

"This is dangerous territory," he reminded them, "keep your eyes open, ears pricked, and paws steady."

With his advice, the cats resumed their assault into the capital, meeting no resistance at first, just abandoned streets and houses. Street after street fell under their control. Their momentum began to pick up when their eyes began to focus on the sky scrappers marking the city became bigger and bigger.

About this time, two sentries went out in front of the house to keep a look out as Hobbes continued to sit on his perch, unmoving. Then, he saw movement in the next street over. It looked like a column moving through the street. They were cats, and now a second column was moving right for him!

"They're coming!" Hobbes yelled with his hoarse voice to those down below. The two sentries on the road saw a wave of cats turn the road, spotted them at the same time, and charged right for them. Both discharged their muskets then rushed for the house. Hobbes jumped through the window as well, rocks pigging all around him. Watching his soldiers pass by at a dead run, Dilger saw the cats and grinned evilly, now is the time. Clutching a musket of his own, he took aim and fired down the road, a cat heaved and fell. Spurring inside, the door was shut and barred. He was the last one in. Cats already knew where they were and sent a barrage of rocks their way with slingshots firing on the run. By individuals and by small groups, they tried to take the house immediately, jumping over the car blocking the drive way and over the front yard. Waiting until the last minute, denying their fire, Dilger waited until the very last second, until enough targets were clustered in front of him that no soldier could miss hitting one. Behind him, Arlene stood ready with powder to reload their muskets. Nermal moved upstairs with another barrel for sharpshooters. Calvin was little more than a spectator, watching them, asking, "When can I get a rifle?"

"When you grow up," one soldier barked.

At the last possible moment, Dilger gave the command, "Let them have it!" and a massive thunderclap swept through the field. Cats were hit by the score, knocked down and back by bullets that shattered glass, kicked up dirt, and pavement. Those that were exposed in this field were promptly mowed down. Those still alive sought shelter wherever it was provided. Those behind the car found it impossible for it was easily fired down upon by sharpshooters firing from above. It was suicidal stay any longer and the cats retreated after only a few moments of contest, only to come back again even stronger. With a wild cheer, they charged again, this time from both front and back after a fence was punched out. Cold as it was outside for their attackers, inside the fort, heat rose to an intolerable level as shot after shot went out creating a fog of humid, silky white fog that hung low in the rooms. The hot bite of charcoal, and the acid smell of cordite seemed to spur the dogs even more to fire away as sweat began rolling off noses and soaking fur. Into neighboring homes went cats, trying to find a way to hit back and stop their devastating fire. One by one, cats were being mutilated, hit, and disabled by musket balls and there was nothing they had suitable to reply back with except flimsy slingshots. Those sharpshooters that Zoos begged to have were not living up their name. Fed up after witnessing this slaughter, Zoos ordered up two of those howitzers on the hill to "blow the house to hell."

It took over thirty minutes for those two guns to be moved towards the house, by then, the fire fight began to slacken off. Some thought that the cats were retreating, and the cats thought the dogs were being destroyed. All that came from all the smoke from their muskets which seeped out through cracks and open windows. So much of it escaped, that the cats thought the house was on fire and decided to wait and watch them be smoked out. When the guns were finally in a position on the other side of the road to fire, Zoos ordered them to with hold this, to wait and see. Minutes passed, the smoke began to clear. Coughing as he felt his way through the house, Hobbes found Dilger peeping through a front window.

"What are you waiting for? Why have you stopped firing?" asked the tiger.

"They have two cannons out there," Dilger replied, ignoring his question.

This dog was brazen, brave, and cool under fire. That's what impressed Hobbes enough that as the dogs weren't looking, he picked up a musket, some powder cartridges and went back up stairs. As he did, several thoughts were going through his mind. He had chosen his fate, his destiny, his side. It was here. Climbing back out onto the roof, Hobbes threw one leg over to the other side of the A frame roof, from this sitting position, he could see the battlefield before him. Cluttered were prone bodies, wounded, and cats moving like ants all around. They were everywhere, in the back yard, front, and neighboring houses. Rocks pinged and whizzed about his head. They could see him, even Zoos did. Seeing the two cannon not more than 75 yards away, just waiting to fire, Hobbes placed the tips of each paper cartridge between his teeth, ripped open one and calmly loaded his musket. It seemed to come naturally to him how to work one of these. It was a flint lock musket, but it didn't matter to him. Once it was loaded, he took aim. Everyone down below hunched down, took cover. Who was the target? That answer came with a sudden CLICK FLASH BANG. A gunner heaved and fell.

"That's one," he smirked.

Angered, Zoos ordered everyone to "bring that one down now! All weapons on him!"

All attention was focused now directly on Hobbes whom sat exposed on the roof, firing his musket away. This elevated the pressure off Dilger inside for once the smoke cleared, he resumed his fire which knocked down those operating the howitzers and sent cats reeling back, well away from them, seeking shelter into houses. From there, it was a long range slug fest that lasted for the better part of an hour. Neither side was willing to make a move. Laying out in the cold field were over three dozen cats, slain by dogs and two howitzers which had yet to be fired because gunners were too afraid to operate them in the exposed landscape. By 0900, the sun rose up, the temperature began to rise slowly. By now, the fire had stopped altogether. Having called for reinforcements, Zoos was waiting for them, waiting for them to come on all sides of the house. He had numbers to his advantage, but his adversary was proving to be a tough nut to crack.

Taking a breather, Odie sank against a wall in the living room. Sweat from his fur soaked the wall and left streaks as he sank to the floor. Parched of thirst, he accepted a gift from Arlene of a glass of water with a smile. He hadn't said much since the fight began, but as a regular foot soldier, he was brave and true to his cause. Despite his infamous stupidity, he was a good aim and solid as a stone nonetheless and continued to be so as the fire began to step again with the arrival of those promised reinforcements. This time, they brought in fire arms and bullets began to wreck everything they touched. Walls were pierced, windows shattered, shingled torn away as cats with pitiful aim, sought to wreck this wart. It was their first real clash for many and they were scared and craving a fight and let it up with everything they processed.

Cowering under his bed, Calvin yelled and cried for his mother as bullets ripped all around him. He was like everyone else, pinned down, unable to move. Brandishing Ak-47s of all sorts and captured machine guns from who knows where, cats took the house from all four sides and ripped it apart with tracer and armor piercing rounds that turned it into Swiss cheese. Able to finally move unhampered, howitzer crews pushed their muzzle loaded to within 50 yards of the house, calibrated the tubes skywards to fire into the second story windows. One such spherical shot came through Calvin's window, tore into the ceiling, hit support strut, bounced off, came down into the interior and rolled down the stairs...

KA THUNK

Coming to rest at the bottom, the fuse sputtered, whizzed, then went out. It was a dud. Even though it would have caused horrific damage to it's interior, wounded, mutilate, and possibly kill dogs if it had gone off, it wouldn't have for everyone hunkered down in the garage, underneath work brenches and improvised cover as bullets pinged and whizzed through.

Through sulfuric smoke, officers finally ordered a cease fire, letting defenders inside breath an uneasy sigh of relief for a moment as a loud, thundering voice from the outside, came to their ears. Yelling through a megaphone, officers called out for the "foolish dogs" to surrender. "It's useless to resist the might of our revolution! Surrender and we might grant you mercy," they said. "You are brave, yet foolish. Surrender now and spare unnecessary suffering."

Angered already that his home was shot to pieces, Hobbes left the garage, disregarding Dilger's order not to. Entering the living room, pieces of furniture, carpet, windows and ceiling lay littered all about him. It wasn't the warm, loving place he once knee, It was a war zone right in his own living room. Where was Calvin? That's what his mission was. Find him. Where was he? When everyone fled to the garage, the boy wasn't among the refugees. Last time he was seen was upstairs. Probably now cowering under his bed like a baby. Even so, Calvin needed to be removed to a safe place. As voices boomed outside asking for a surrender, the tiger moved up slowly, avoiding making a noise or obvious signs of movement to those watching. In the hallway upstairs, he made the venture at a crawl all the way to his bed room. Door was cracked open, shot full of holes, but open enough for his frame to slitter through. Following muffled sobs that originated underneath the bed, Hobbes removed them slowly to reveal a sulking Calvin, unharmed by all the fire. Clearing his watery eyes to see that it was Hobbes whom had discovered him, Calvin immediately toughened up.

"Mom will have a hissy fit when she finds out what we did to the house while they were gone," Calvin dryly joked.

Once Calvin was secured, Hobbes moved to the window. Together, they looked weary outside to see hordes of cats all around them.

"Good gravy!" Calvin exclaimed, "Where did they come from?"

"Someone didn't listen to Bob Barkers suggestion," Hobbes muttered back.

No was firing, it was very quiet, just a bash of loud words coming from a megaphone piercing the daylight. Still with his musket, Hobbes shifted about for a firing spot. Easing the muzzle just an inch out of the window for balance, he took aim. With curiosity, Calvin sat back and waited. There was a telekinetic between these two as to whom the target was.

"Surrender now. You have five minutes to comply to our..."

CLICK BANG!

A cloud of white smoke filled the room. Coughing, blowing it away with his hand, Calvin rushed up to the window to see the effect of his shot. Laying crumbled in the road was the megaphone, the officer seen running away to another house.

"Nice shot," Calvin congratulated.

Irritated, Hobbes replied, "Not really. I was aiming for his head.

His shot unnerved his attackers. For the remainder of the day, no more shots were fired. A siege was laid on the house as more and more cats came into the theater, some pressed on to other areas, but this skirmish attracted great attention from Garfield himself. With an enemy force of unknown size trapped inside a house, and his cats surrounding them, it would make great propaganda once this thorn was removed. All else though, his progress in taking the capital was going without a hitch. There was little to no resistance as humans fled for their lives. Prisoners by the hundreds were taken, cowering in basements or attics, completely taken aback that once lovable felines were now running through the streets, in cars, firing on the run at windows. What was happening? Did the whole world come apart? Not many were sure at this point. Only instinct gripped human and animal alike and that was to survive by any means necessary.

Zoos admired those individuals in that house. One direct assault had failed to take them early, costing him perhaps thirty soldiers killed or wounded. Having them surrounded didn't mean the fight was over. With Gold's expressed orders, this house was too be flattened and all in it killed by tomorrow, or else...

With that, Zoos assembled all the artillery he could, four guns total and resumed pummeling the house with explosive shells that ripped apart banisters, collapsed ceilings, and destroyed furniture. Several rounds exploded in the kitchen, severing the gas main and turning it into a funeral pyre. From there, it began to spread to other rooms. Helpless, everyone huddled in the garage, sealing the door with wet towels. Listening to it's roar as it spread, Calvin began to break down, knowing full well that his room, with all of his toys, inventions, comic books, were being destroyed, being consumed. What was the course of action now? What did the great Dilger have to get them out of this mess? This is what Calvin wanted to know. Eyes filled with tears, the boy leapt at the dog, balling his fists and striking here and there along his back and neck, all the while yelling, "What now!" It took the efforts of Odie and Hobbes to remove the slashing boy off of Dilger and contain him. Foaming at the mouth with rage, the boy lashed out at everyone and everything, blaming them for bringing this war to his home, for destroying his comic books. Shrieking and crying at the top of his lungs that could be heard for miles, Zoos wondered if they were suffering horrible deaths.