Disclaimer: I do not own Cats the Musical. I do own Deimos, Phobos, and this story.

Warnings: I think if you've made it this far, we're good. But in any case, take the warning from the first chapter, and replace "some mention...of corpses" with "some violence, blood, one case of (reluctantly) self-inflicted wounds, and one swear word."

"I told you! I told you, I told you, I told you!"

"Yeah, Pho, I get it. You told me."

"Yeah, I told you! What did I tell you? C'mon, Deim, what did I tell you?"

"Can you just drop it already? We're in agreement here. This is completely and entirely my fault. Now shut it!"

"Fine, fine. But I tol—"

"Basements, you Pollicle! I said shut it!" Deimos snarled at his partner, who merely snickered and shook his head. The two were limping their slow way down a busy street, ignoring the blood dripping down their flanks. Deimos was in a decidedly bad mood, but Phobos was positively cheerful, despite the beating they'd gotten from the Boss just minutes ago.

"Ha! For once it's me that was right and you that was wrong! I told you, I said, I said that truck'd be no good, but no, you were just so sure that it didn't matter—"

"Just drop it, Phobos!" Deimos hissed again, ears flattened against his head and fur standing straight out in all directions. Phobos chuckled now, and the sound was eerily like that of Macavity. Evidently he'd noticed, because he stopped immediately and shivered.

"Gotta step spending so much time around the Boss," he muttered, and the two continued on in silence while Phobos considered his similarities to the Boss. Deimos, for his part, was just relieved that the other cat had finally stopped gloating.

Just a minute later, they came upon a car parked on the street. It was no different from the dozens they had passed before, save for the human that was busily loading the purchases from some shopping trip into the car. The two black cats sat on the sidewalk and waited next to it.

But they didn't wait long. Macavity appeared just moments later.

Neither cared to find out just how he'd done that with such perfect timing.

The ginger cat looked over the car, which was dirty enough for someone to had written, "Wash Me!" in the window (there were also several more, somewhat inappropriate phrases decorating the glass, but those cannot be reprinted here). His lip curled back with distaste, but he nodded.

"Suitable," was his decision, and without hesitation hopped into the backseat without the human noticing. The two black toms followed.

Soon the car was on its way, the driver happily oblivious to her three passengers. Once they were on the road, a ginger paw reached out to roll down the back window, and Macavity leaned out—

Law Number Eleven: Though it is illegal to spit from a car or bus, citizens may spit from a truck (Marietta, Georgia).

Humans congregated in the tall building, seating themselves either silently or quietly. Eventually a slow procession began to move its way up the long aisle, carrying the various trinkets that were so essential to this place.

One human did a double take as he passed an aisle. There were many things wrong with the picture in front of him, and the fact that there were three cats seated on the pew was only one of them.

The moustaches that all three wore was just one more thing, and the fact that the ginger cat seated in between the two much larger blacks was giving him a look that made the man shudder in fear was just another (albeit a rather frightening oddity).

But the procession was moving on, and the man shook his head and attributed it all to eccentric parishioners. Eccentric parishioners with rather frightening cats.

The ginger cat sighed in frustration. "Damn. Not even a chuckle."

The two blacks eyed each other, and both had to suppress their own giggles at the sight of the other tom. With their black fur, and the black hair of the fake moustaches, it looked as if the facial hair was natural. And they had to admit it: neither of them looked good with a moustache.

But Macavity had already made it perfectly clear that their laughter did not count in this assignment, and was in fact very annoying to him.

Macavity had apparently made up his mind about what to do, though, and he abruptly sprang up. The Hidden Paw landed nimbly on the back of the pew, startling the family seated behind them. The mother gasped in surprise, the father widened his eyes, but the little girl let loose a high-pitched round of giggles.

Macavity smirked and jumped down, sauntering out of the church with his two henchcats at his back.

Now that the assignment was over, they felt it was safe to let loose their own laughter.

They were wrong.

Law Number Twelve: It is illegal to wear a fake moustache that causes laughter in church (Alabama).

"This was an awful idea."


"A stupid, stupid idea. Rumpus, where he comes up with this stuff—"

"Do you want to get us both killed? Is that it? Shut up!"

"What? It's not like he can—"

"Hear you?" Phobos nearly jumped five feet into the air—or would have, if he hadn't been enclosed in a barrel. As it was, he merely hissed and leaped up, slamming the top of his head into the wall of the barrel. Deimos laughed mockingly until the barrel began rolling, at which point it was necessary to concentrate on not being thrown about.

Concentration didn't help too much, though, and soon the barrel was filled with curses in addition to the two large black cats. Macavity rolled his eyes. Well, all the bouncing about in the barrel wouldn't harm their mental capacity, at least; he doubted they had enough to be harmed if they couldn't figure out that he could still hear them through the wood.

Honestly. He needed to get smarter henchcats, and soon.

But then, these were rather useful for mindlessly obeying orders.

With a final heave, Macavity sent the barrel spinning down a steep hill, trotting lazily after it and watching with amusement as pedestrians and cars scurried out of the way, then turned to stare.

Law Number Thirteen: It is illegal to roll a barrel on any street; fines go up according to the contents of the barrel (Pensacola, Florida).

The two black cats stood staring, or more accurately, glaring at each other. One, larger by about a centimeter, hissed suddenly, breaking the five-minute-long staring contest that had been going on. The ginger cat nearby, surprisingly and uncharacteristically patient for once, merely rolled his eyes and sat back to wait.

"This is stupid, Deim! I won. You lost. So go do it!"

"Wonderful use of logic, Phobos," Macavity drawled, and both Deimos and Phobos started. "Deimos? I do believe he is correct."

"But, er—does it really count? For you to break this law, I mean?" Deimos questioned nervously, wondering belatedly if he was just making things worse by procrastinating. But Macavity's strange, tolerant mood continued on.

"Yes, I believe it does. After all, you are in my employ. And if I had asked you to commit murder, and you did, would it not be my responsibility?" He smirked, standing and stretching. "So, I believe you have a job to do now."

Phobos grinned at Deimos, gaining himself a growl in reply. Then Deimos drew in a breath, resigning himself to his fate. Really, if he thought about it, it wasn't that bad compared to the pain he'd had to put up with in the past.

But then, it was the thought that it was only him doing it, when he would have rather liked to watch Phobos do it instead. (If he were another cat, he might have felt guilty for wanting to see his 'friend' hurt like this, but he knew fully well that Phobos would enjoy watching him do this very, very much.)

He took in another breath, and—

He reflected later that maybe it wasn't so bad. The woman who had picked him up was cooing over him, which was annoying, but she had given him a large bowl of food and water (cream would have been preferable, but he did appreciate a bit of clean water), bandaged his wounds, and was currently rubbing her hands over him in a way he very much liked.

Deimos pretended not to see Phobos waiting impatiently outside the window.

Law Number Fourteen: It is illegal to stab yourself to gain someone's pity (Alabama).

"Three thousand seventy-two, three thousand seventy-three, three thousand seventy-four…" Phobos counted aloud as he went through the flock, marking off each individual with a red marker as he saw them. Finally, he seemed to have found every pure white coat and marked it, and sighed in relief. Now for the fun part…

"'Ey Deim! Ready now!" he yelled, and a streak of black darted through the white sea, startling the sheep into frightened 'baa's. Admittedly, the frightened 'baa's weren't much different from the bored 'baa's, the hungry 'baa's, the angry 'baa's, or the tired 'baa's, but Phobos assumed they were frightened judging by the way they charged in the opposite direction of the running black cat.

Deimos came to a stop next to Phobos, grinning. "How many was it?"

"Three thousand eighty-one," Phobos replied immediately, his voice a little hoarse.

"Didn't know you could count that high," Deimos remarked off-handedly, dodging a half-hearted swipe from his partner.

"Let's just get to this already," he said, eager to get going. Deimos nodded, turning and running off towards the back of the flock. Phobos chased after him, and a few moments later, they were off.

Screams preceded them as pedestrians and drivers realized exactly what it was coming their way. Sheep were not normally something to be frightened of, but a flock of over three thousand was quite terrifying when it came charging at you full speed. Especially when you were on Hollywood Boulevard, and not expecting anything more dangerous than a swarm of paparazzi running you down.

At the back were three cats, driving the sheep forward by slashing and biting at their legs.

Phobos turned to Deimos after just a few minutes of this. "Now this is fun."

Macavity rolled his eyes and made a mental note to find henchcats with a slightly higher level of intelligence than the sheep, as soon as this endeavor was over.

Law Number Fifteen: It is illegal to drive more than two thousand sheep down Hollywood Boulevard at one time (Hollywood, California).

A/N: I felt it was time to update this story.

Also I was very bored and had nothing to do but look up more stupid laws. And now I'm very bored and have nothing to do but write (cleaning does not count as something to do, even though it needs to be done). And so I have five more laws in the works now, as well as a multi-chapter story that began as a drabble and took off from there, which may or may not be up on this website soon. Yay.

The editor hates my line breaks, so that's why I had to do it this way. It was frustrating.

I'll stop now. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Update (Two Years Later): Had to fix some formatting for this chapter...thank you to Iamtwilight for pointing out the lack of line breaks! ... Looking at the A/N from two years ago, I wonder why I didn't notice anything wrong with this chapter. Hmm. Apparently I thought I had fixed it, but that didn't work...ah well. Fixed now!