The everyone loves the beach. Even the antisocial. Between uptossing sand near gluttons about to chow down, encouraging children to bury themselves vertically (and risking collapsing the ground, smothering themselves while their parents watch helplessly), and taking photos of topless sunbathers to upload to sketchy websites, the degenerates can find almost as much fun as society's garden-variety good-adjusted citizen. Truly, the perfect getaway for anyone who wants to watch society pollute the beauty of nature.
"THIS IS WHAT SKIN CANCER DOES TO YOU!" The shrilled voice of Firedrinker lead the charge, as cats from the tour bus stormed the beaches like a reverse Normandy, slashing at everything in their path and disemboweling whatever Twolegs they could find. Firedrinker himself blasted several of them with the shotgun he found on the monster, holding it in-place by wrapping his tail around the trigger.
"So what exactly is our plan," Goatsucker meowed. A she-cat with fur dyed a snowy blue answered with a throaty growl, "FIND THE CAVE WITH THE BADGER. GET HER TO TALK, AND THEN TOSS HER IN FOR THE SHARKS!" From her side, Dreadnaught cleaved the foot of a Twoleg trying to kick the cats, toppling him and giving a chance to pierce his throat. "NICE GOING DEEEAAAR." Dreadnaught wondered if his mother even could 'turn off' the death metal growl.
"Archenemy! Dreadnaught! Look!" A senior warrior, a very prominent fellow called 'Vanillabean,' a mellow dude famous for giving the Clan its most heartful rock opera in decades, pointed his tail towards a few Twolegs before he himself had his lower body blasted off, leaving him to bleed out in the sands. The Twolegs had similar handguns to the ones driving the black-and-white monsters at the farm, these ones holstered in very small red Twoleg pelts.
A DeathMetalClan cat sprinted past them, holding in her mouth a sort of hard grey fruit-like contraption called a 'grenade.' Dreadnaught was one of the last cats to see this one, a dainty little wallflower named Bloodknife, before the fruit exploded, taking her life and one of the Twolegs, leaving another with a missing leg and the third face-down in the sand.
"This is ridiculous," Dreadnaught snarled. "We're supposed to be going after Midnight. What was Firedrinker thinking when he-" A quick glance over at the leader made Dreadnaught realize this a trick question. Firedrinker somehow stole a chainsaw, and was using it to rip fleeing Twolegs apart from the front seat of a small, open-roofed Twoleg monster driven by Megadeth.
Dreadnaught paid no more thought to the chaos. He split from the group, much to his mother's protest, making a straight line towards Nightpaw. Archenemy followed, "IS THIS THAT GIRL YOU LIKE?" Nightpaw died a little inside, meowing, "We're killing Twoleg kits. Don't ask for a pity date in front of your mother." At least she was conversing. Dreadnaught meowed, "I know. I know you hate this too, but nobody's looking for Midnight, and as long as she's alive we're going to keep killing innocent Twolegs here." Nightpaw actually paid him mind. "So what do you expect me to do?"
Dreadnaught meowed astutely, "Help."
Nightpaw sighed, getting off of the unmoving Twoleg she had been holding under the tide the whole time. "You're right. Any ideas where she could be?"
The cocky meow of Warpaw chimed in. "I know where the badger is." Nightpaw shuffled around a bit. Though Dreadnaught liked the idea of her being uncomfortable around his littermate, the sudden change from yesterday was curious. But he would ask further later, and especially not in front of their own mother. "How," he asked. Warpaw nodded to Archenemy, then turned back towards his brother, meowing, "She's in a hole. Badgers like holes."
Dreadnaught meowed, "Wow... insightful." Warpaw flicked Dreadnaught's nose, "Think about that, moron. If you were a scared little stinking whelp... wait, 'if?'" Archenemy cleared her throat, to which Dreadnaught was unaware if only to cease his brother's teasing, or refocus them. Warpaw elaborated, "You want a hole. You want it firm. You don't want it loose. Saying that back, I don't know why you'd want Nightpaw then..." This time Nightpaw growled. Warpaw continued, "You want a den with thick, sturdy walls that are solid, so that it doesn't collapse in the middle of the night to kill you. And given the size of a badger, sand ain't going to cut it. Too loose. You want actual dirt and clay. Something you can pack. My guess, the den's hidden along the shore to the north, a out of the way of the Twolegs, along some of the overlooks."
Nightpaw's prior annoyance faded into subtle admiration. "That was surprisingly analytical. And just as good a lead as any." Dreadnaught's face broke even as he met his brother's smug grin. Yeah, you earned that one, he yielded. Nodding to the other three, he meowed, "Okay, let's go."
They arrived to the slow beat of the tide against a jagged shore of rock outcroppings, like a war drum playing to Gaea's servants patient enough to hear its snare roll. A troubling sign, but, even with their numbers, Dreadnaught knew this would be an uphill battle. The four cats walked into the cavern, a deceptively large den expanding form within, reinforced by caked mud and clay, no doubt through several lifetimes of work. Even through the very narrow light, illuminating only a faint shimmer from within, any cat with half a brain could be lost in the simple mastery of the weaving nest of ancient pawsteps.
"Midnight," Dreadnaught meowed. "Come out. We've come to kill you." From within a shadowed crevice, black and white fur stirred. Midnight was goliath compared to the cats, a sharp contrast to her gentle voice, speaking in a broken meow, twisted with the savagery of her species, "You lied? OutClan pretenders come to fight." Nightpaw interjected with a chirp of a meow, "We don't have to hurt you. Just tell us where Firestar is, and we'll be on our way." The badger walked towards the cats. The ground seemed to quake as she scanned the intruders, a feat she wasn't entirely responsible for. To Dreadnaught's horror, the encroaching stench screamed that she wasn't alone. Midnight imitated another meow, "Evil OutClan cats know Midnight can tell where Firestar, but not OutClan? Not think other friends gather?"
"It's an ambush!" Dreadnaught exclaimed. "No shit, moron," Warpaw meowed, "Any ideas?"
A streak of blue fur whipped in front of the three young cats, as Archenemy dived into one of the badgers, her only warning a simultaneous guttural cry. Before the beast could react, Archenemy hooked its shoulder and rolled, knocking the titan over. She bit into the prone creature's joints. With a macabre crunch, the badger's leg twisted and splintered. Archenemy ripped it off as the other badgers absorbed their own shock, and she ruthlessly pummeled the wailing beast. "STOP CRYING," she commanded, before jabbing the severed limb, bone-shard first, into the badger's eye socket. The prey scrambled, trying to get back up, but Archenemy hopped onto its shoulder blades, biting down on its neck. Nightpaw winced, "That's not the spot for a killing bite."
With an audible 'pop,' the badger's hind collapsed and limped. With one good leg, the beast scratched at the ground in front of itself, trying to drag its broken body away from the savage DeathMetalClan cat. The meow left a hollow chill as it left Dreadnaught's throat, "She knows."
Archenemy jumped off the crippled badger, leaving it to bleed out, both glaring down Midnight. "DON'T THREATEN MY BABY BOYS." Warpaw couldn't help himself, meowing "Please do, I want to see more." Dreadnaught gave him an annoyed side-glance before meowing, "You should reconsider our offer. Tell us where Firestar is."
Midnight said not a word as two badgers simultaneously jumped out at Archenemy, pinning the queen down and slashing at her back. Dreadnaught jumped forward, screaming "MOM" before his own spine was pinned down by another massive paw. The beast leaned down, sliding its teeth along his face as he stuck Dreadnaught's head in his muzzle, a self-imposed challenge to see if he could devour the cat's head in a single bite. From within its muzzle, Dreadnaught could see the muscles in the badger's jaws tighten, and felt its teeth sink into his skin.
At least I'm going to die beside Nightpaw.
