Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors or many characters featured in this story. The only things I own are the storyline and the original characters featured in this story.

CHAPTER TWO

MANGLE

Life is good, Mangle thought contentedly. In fact, it's perfect.

It was interesting that he thought this, considering his environment. The stink of rotting carcasses, both new and old, didn't bother the BloodClan warrior Mangle in the slightest. The threat of the other cats, though, was a different story. He tore into the squirrel that he gripped tightly with both paws, glaring menacingly around him. This was his squirrel! He would only give it up if Snipe or Scourge ordered him to, but it was unlikely they would. He was in Scourge's inner group, his top cats. He was the one of the cats who established Scourge's rule, enforced Scourge's rule, and collected the offerings from his subjects.

"Mangle!" The ginger tom looked up to glare at Lokell and discarded his earlier thought. He loathed her. A big gray she-cat, she was fierce and fast. Also in Scourge's inner group, Lokell often worked side-by-side with him. Even so, at best, they tolerated each other, simply because if they fought nothing would ever get done. If given the chance, Mangle would kill Lokell for a mouse-tail, and he knew that Lokell would do the same to him.

"What is it, Lokell?" he snarled.

"There's only eighteen offerings for Scourge this moon," Lokell growled. She eyed him distastefully. "Snipe wants you, Slink, and I to collect three offerings from cats in the Deserted—resistance preferred." She flexed her claws. "It's so much more fun that way."

Mangle growled. "Slink?" he sneered. "Slink's gone soft ever since his kits were born." And indeed he had. Slink always made sure they were healthy, fussing over them and his mate, Bat, whenever he got the chance. He refused to take from families that had young kits. He was less rough when training with younger cats, and when taking offerings from cats when there wasn't enough.

"I'm still plenty tough enough to beat you up, Mangle," spat a voice behind him. A black tom padded into view from behind some boxes. "I haven't gone so soft I can't take you on."

"Slink," Mangle snarled. He disliked the black-furred tom, which wasn't saying much. He disliked all the cats, except for Scourge and Bone. But Bone was dead now. Anyways, he disliked Slink more than usual because of the rogue's secretiveness. Snipe's a garbage-brain if he thought putting the three of us together would end well. Mangle hated Lokell and Slink, Slink hated Mangle and Lokell, and Lokell hated Mangle and Slink. They usually only got through a job with each other because there was normally another cat who would break up their fights and remind them of their job. Unfortunately, there was no such cat this time. Were you born a garbage-brain Snipe, or did it only happen after you became deputy?

"Mangle," Slink hissed back.

Lokell lashed her tail. "Enough! We need to work together, or Scourge will punish us for being slow." Slink glared at her with sharp eyes.

"What do I care if you're punished, Lokell?" Mangle sneered.

"Let's get going," Slink rumbled, menace clear in his tone, narrowing his eyes at the ginger tom. "I don't like this decision to stick us all together any more than either of you do, but Scourge ordered it."

Mangle ignored Slink and turned to Lokell, eyes narrowed. "Why the Deserted?" The Deserted lived up to its name; barely a dozen cats took up residence in the block. In a normal section of Twolegplace, there would often be three dozen in half of that.

Lokell shrugged. "Ask Scourge," she meowed, knowing full well that he wouldn't dare bother the BloodClan leader with such a trivial question. Mangle glared at her.

Mangle bared his teeth and shoved his way to the front. "I'll lead," he hissed over his shoulder.

"Just because you're the biggest doesn't mean you get to lead," snarled Slink.

"Maybe not," Mangle shot back, thinking of Scourge. He was the smallest cat the ginger tom had ever seen, and yet he was leader of BloodClan. "But I am higher up in Scourge's inner group than both of you are. I have to obey orders from only Snipe and Scourge. None else. I outrank both of you."

Lokell hissed, and Slink spat, but neither could deny his authority over them. Mangle sneered at them and with a flick of a tail, led the way to the Deserted.

The Deserted was dead-quiet when the three of them arrived. It was likely one of the Deserted cats had spotted them early on, and gone to warn them. It was completely plausible. The Deserted's residents commonly ventured out to scavenge for food among the more populated Twolegplace.

The Deserted had another reason for its name. This particular section of town was almost completely deserted by Twolegs, making it an excellent place for cats to make their home there. Unfortunately, the same reason it was so good for cats to live in was the same reason why it was notoriously empty. Twolegs provided much of BloodClan's food in Twolegplace, and having none of them deprived the cats living in this part of town of plenty of food. Even so, there was enough that the dozen or so cats could survive. Rats ran wild, and there were a few birds pecking for food among the dirty streets. It was a dark, gloomy place, and one Mangle hated. He didn't mind the darkness or the gloominess. Even the foul-tasting rats in the area didn't bother him. If you lived in Twolegplace, you ate whatever you found, regardless of the taste, and sometimes even if it wasn't food. No, it was the silence, the emptiness, that Mangle despised. The way that the quiet hung so heavy in the air that when a cat spoke, it seemed to echo forever.

Mangle was not a loner cat. He preferred many other cats around him, and right then, besides for Lokell and Slink, who barely counted as company anyways, there were no cats willing to show themselves. He saw eyes gleaming in the darkness, blue, green, and amber orbs that glittered with unease and wariness, vanishing the moment Mangle looked their way.

He could sense curiosity and hostility in these cats' gazes. His pricked ears could pick up faint snatches of whispered conversation. They didn't expect to see any BloodClan cats here, and it was no big secret that they hated BloodClan. Still, they payed their dues and were left alone in exchange. This time, though, not enough offerings were given to Scourge, and they were being punished for it—whether or not they met their own demands.

Every second moon, cats had to make offerings to Scourge and his inner group. It used to be twenty offerings, and if they didn't receive them, they would go through Twolegplace and take the rest, plus another twenty in punishment. Now, with all the prey of the forest at their paws, an extra ten offerings had to be made by the BloodClan cats living in the forest. The forest cats had met their quota, but the Twolegplace were two offerings short; thus the traveling to the Deserted to take offerings.

A big well-muscled tom darted across the street. His eyes shot toward the three BloodClan cats, then he fled into the old tunnels that ran under the town. Mangle caught a glimpse of a skinny bird in his jaws, and suspected that if they were not here, the other cats would be mobbing the tom. He nodded to where the cat had disappeared.

"We'll start with him," he growled softly.

Slink and Lokell both gave him looks of absolute hatred as he assigned them their jobs. "Why do you get to do the big job?" complained Slink.

"Yeah, you always do," Lokell added. She lashed her tail. "We're part of Scourge's inner group too. We got there because of our loyalty and fighting skills. Why don't you let us practice on them?"

Mangle laughed, flashing dirty teeth at them. "'Cause I so say," he told them roughly. He glared at them, and they glared back with equal ferocity. He nodded in approval. "You each get to do one of the next two today." He smiled to himself, because his plan meant that they would get all three offerings in one swoop.

They exchanged surprised glances, but Mangle ignored them. "Get to your spots," he hissed.

Slink slid into the deeper shadows, his black pelt swallowed up by the darkness. Lokell loped forward and took up position beside the Twoleg tunnel. Slink appeared on the other side, but saying appeared might be too much. The only thing Mangle could see were his eyes, and they were just barely discernible.

Mangle padded forward silently, deliberately straying into the sun. Sunlight washed over his pelt, and then he was like a bright ball of fire. Then he hid behind some old boxes, stalking light-footed across the street. He found a patch of dotty darkness where he was able to creep to the other side. He crouched low in the shade. Now came the next part. Waiting.

Mangle almost sighed. There was no question that the cats were trying to set a trap for them. In fact, it would be a great surprise if they weren't. Mangle had been here many times to collect offerings, and each and every time, they tried to ambush him. So their plan was to wait for them to think it was safe to come out, then strike swiftly.

Time passed. Mangle was extremely bored. And uncomfortable. The hiding place he had chosen was rather small for him, better for someone with narrower shoulders and a smaller build. Lokell was lying on one side, eyes closed. Mangle knew she was still awake, though, and ready to attack at any time. Slink's eyes still shone dimly in his spot.

Finally, a cautious head poked out of the tunnel. Lokell's head shot up as the cat slipped a little, sending a small piece of the road clattering down into the tunnel. The cat froze. After nothing happened for a minute or so, the cat emerged. It was a wiry brown tabby, with white patches. He turned and gestured with his tail, and three more cats emerged. Mangle met Lokell's and Slink's gazes. They nodded, and moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with each other, thought their disgusted expressions showed that it was reluctantly they did this. Slink quickly checked inside, appearing with a nod. It was time.

Mangle crept out from his hiding place with a satisfied grunt. Rolling his shoulders and stretching, he stood up straight and padded out into the open, where the sun once again turned his pelt to moving flames.

"BloodClan!" a cat cried as she saw him.

The four cats tensed, then hesitated as they saw his massive size. One of them turned, probably looking to flee, when he saw Lokell and Slink. He cried out in shock.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Mangle muttered to himself.

"By order of Scourge," he called loudly, "you must present to us an offering. Failure to do so will result in great punishment."

One of the cats spat at him, and another snarled, "Scourge and his orders have as much authentication as garbage!"

Mangle's eyes narrowed in fury. Inwardly though, he was delighted. He knew it would play out like this, and now, he could attack them. Unfortunately for him, the three of them were highly skilled in fighting, and it was unlikely the battle would last more than a couple of seconds.

Wasting no time, he nodded to his fellow BloodClan cats, and they pounced. Two of the cats died right away, blood pouring out of their necks. Mangle strode forward, easily dodging a wild blow from one cat and pinning him down. Glancing back, he saw that Slink had casually pinned the last cat with one paw, and was washing his ears with the other. He was right; the whole fight had taken three seconds total. The two surviving cats' eyes were wide.

Mangle raised his voice, yowling, "Listen well, cats of the Deserted! We have two of yours pinned under our claws." As he spoke he saw cats creeping out from their homes in the Twoleg buildings. Their eyes shone with hatred, but they didn't attack. Yet. "Three of you must bring offerings for Scourge to us. Failure to do this means these cats die. Attempting to free these cats mean they die. Waiting too long to bring the offerings means these cats die. Only bringing the offerings to us on time will we leave them alive. Understood?"

The Deserted cats hissed and snarled, but gathered around each other to convene. After a few minutes, three cats broke away and headed inside their dens, while the other cats fanned out in a semi-circle, watching the BloodClan cats warily.

After a minute, the three cats returned, each carrying an offering: two dead rats and a tiny, scrawny bird. Mangle looked at them in disdain. This whole trip was a waste. Scourge's inner group didn't need such measly prey. Still, they had to take the offerings back.

"Well, at least we'll eat well with the other offerings," muttered Lokell.

Mangle sneered at them, then hauled his prisoner up and shoved him away, sending him stumbling. He turned to Slink, raising a paw to stop him from releasing the other. Slink deftly fastened his teeth in the young cat's scruff, and padded over to Mangle.

The three cats, their prisoner in tow, padded up to the offerings. Mangle sniffed them, wrinkling his nose. They were worth next to nothing, with the forest and all its prey at their paws. He scoffed, then picked up the bird. Lokell held the two rats.

Leading the way out, he let the cat go once they had left the Deserted. Their job was done, and all the credit went to him. There was a fight, some deaths, and they could return to Scourge successfully.

A good day.

Looking at his reflection, if he replaced his ginger fur with a mottled black-and-white face, it would be as if he were looking at Bone. He swallowed. Bone. His fierce, brave brother. The cat who had raised him as a kit, when their parents died on the Thunderpath. He would play with Mangle for hours on end in their little alley, asking care of him, making sure he always had enough food to survive. Bone was his playmate, not his littermate. His sister was always weak. Maybe she'd be stronger when she came back.

Bone was his family. The cat whom had become strong enough to become deputy of BloodClan. The only cat in all of BloodClan he had ever truly cared about. His loyalty to Scourge was undying, and he would follow Snipe's orders without question, for he was BloodClan's deputy, but Bone was one of the only cats he would die without hesitation for. The only one whose words he would believe over Scourge's.

During the battle with the Clans, Bone had died. If he had had the choice, he would've taken his brother's place, slaughtered by the young cats. One against five. Mangle's tail-tip twitched. Even against cats so young, they could fight, and Bone stood no chance. He tried to fight his way to Bone when the attack started, but could not reach him in time.

He remembered the cats piled up on his brother. His muzzle curled in hatred as he thought of the two cats who had started it: a pale gray tom with blue eyes, and a dark brown tabby with amber eyes. They would die first, a slow painful death. Once that was done, he would move on to the others: a tortoiseshell she-cat, a dark gray tom, a silvery tabby she-cat. All of them would die.

Not only had he been a close friend and brother of Bone, but they had worked closely together over their time in BloodClan. They were closer than most brothers were in BloodClan, and Scourge allowed them, because they were so much more effective that way. He never had imagined a world without Bone in it. They either were both alive or both dead. Never had either of them thought one would die and the other live. It just never occurred to them. Cats died all the time in BloodClan, but they assumed it would never happen to them.

And now, here he was, sitting here alone, remembering Bone, his dead brother. He thought again of his murderers, and fury flashed through him, hot and wild, as he recalled how close he was to killing that pale gray cat.

Mangle plunged through the thorn barrier, shrugging off the thorns that clutched and tore at his fur. He let loose a guttural howl of rage as he realized that most of the ThunderClan cats had already fled. Barreling forward, he slammed into a pale golden she-cat, whose frail body gave way under his attack.

Rolling to one side, the she-cat swiped at him, her claws scoring across his nose. Mangle ignored the sudden pain and slammed his paws into the she-cat's chest, raking them down her belly. His jaws snapped at her throat, and she strained to keep his teeth away from her neck. He clamped his paws down on her shoulders, digging in his claws as he tried to pull her closer to him. Despite her age, she was surprisingly strong.

Yanking her to one side, the she-cat's head smashed into the ground. She blinked, stunned for a moment, and Mangle took the chance to sink his teeth into her throat. He struck her shoulders again and again with his claws, not loosening his grip on her throat until she was completely limp. Snarling, he stepped away. His eyes flashed with anger as he recognized the pale tom who had helped start the attack on Bone. He was currently nudging a white she-cat up a steep slope, helping her out of the camp. Roaring with rage, he shouldered aside a dark-furred BloodClan cat who sprang for the Clan cat.

"He's mine!" he spat at the cat, who hissed but backed off.

Mangle lunged for the pale tom, who spun, eyes widening. His claws sank into the Clan cat's paw, dragging him down until he was level with him. His fur bristled. The pale tom snarled softly, blue eyes watching his.

Mangle darted for the tom's throat. The cat leaped back, swiping at his face. He ducked under the blow, his paw shooting out and hooking the pale tom's leg out from under him. Off-balance, the tom fell, and Mangle sank his teeth into the cat's shoulder, flipping him onto his belly and leaping on his back. His claws churned his back, and he tore at the cat's ear with his teeth, nearly ripping it clean off.

Struggling free, the cat stumbled away from him, blood dripping off his fur. Mangle snarled in triumph, and leaped at him again. The cat backed away, and he smashed him against the stone wall, flailing at his belly with sharp claws. The cat screeched, and Mangle went for his throat. His fangs sank into the cat, and he released the cat and stepped away, watching the pale tom writhe on the ground.

"I'm going to watch you die," he hissed at him. "You can never suffer enough for killing my brother."

The pale tom wasn't listening. He dragged himself away, smearing blood on the ground. Mangle stalked after him, leaning down to growl in his ear, when a weight crashed into him. He yowled in shock, spinning to see the dark tabby tom who also started the attack on Bone spitting at him.

"You," he snarled.

The tabby snarled back, and then another pale tom appeared beside him, this one with black stripes. Mangle lashed his tail. Maybe he couldn't defeat them, but he could certainly try.

Mangle winced. He could still feel the pain in his chest from their combined attacks. He licked the scratch to help the pain, then glared up at the night sky. I will get revenge, he vowed. No matter what.

"When do we attack?" asked Sparr roughly. Unlike Slink, the birth of his kit did not make him softer in the slightest. Mangle eyed him for a long moment. The ginger tom outranked Sparr by quite a lot. Mangle was third in command, while Sparr was second to lowest in Scourge's inner group.

Sparr met his gaze fiercely. They weren't friends, but neither did they hate each other with a passion. "We attack the scrawny rabbit-chasers in a half-moon from now, when the moon is dark and there are plenty of shadows that we can use to ambush them from."

Sparr's muzzle twisted. "I'll enjoy it."

"Yes, I believe I'll enjoy it too."

Mangle turned away, padding over to a dark tabby tom, who was not in Scourge's inner group. Let's fight, he thought to himself.

"Fight me," he growled at the tom. The tom narrowed green eyes at him, but fell into a crouch. Without hesitation Mangle threw himself at the cat, seizing him by the throat and throwing him to the ground.

The cat raked sharp claws down his belly, and he leaped back, hissing. The tom jumped up, just as Mangle barreled toward him. The tom darted to the side, and Mangle snapped at his tail, catching it in his mouth and biting down hard. The tom screeched in pain, and he yanked him closer, claws sinking into his hindquarters. As the tom slashed at his face, scoring a cut there, fury overcame him.

With a roar, he slammed him to the ground. The tom's gray pelt faded and changed to dark brown, and his green eyes were replaced by amber. Mangle bellowed in fury as he saw the dark brown tabby cat who had started the attack on Bone.

What happened next, he didn't know, lost in the haze of rage, but when he become aware again, he saw what he had done. The gray tabby tom was trembling, clawmarks lacerating his body and his body was patched with fur, much of it lying on the ground around them. Blood was splattered on the ground, the gray tom's pelt coated with it. The other cats around them were staring at Mangle, some in envy, others in approval. Mangle smiled.

"Yes, I believe I will."