[A/N: Thanks for all the reviews from my friends from WillowClan! ;) ]

and then he went
"BOOM!" with a Tank

Chapter Two

The armored bus was a rickety old thing and hardly armored at all. It smelled of cat urine, blood, and sweat—not the kind of thing I would have chosen to ride in. The cat urine smell came from the driver, who had three of them in the upper seats, the sweat because the windows didn't open, and the blood ... I think I'll leave that to your imagination.

Potato poked me. "Hey, Craze, do you think Blondie's finally found a way to get rid of us?"

"Of course not," I said scathingly. "We've always managed. We'll make it out ... probably."

"That's reassuring," she muttered. "Probably." Then she brightened. "Well, it's better than that field trip to the Amazon."

"We didn't even go on that one!" I protested.

"I did." When I looked at her in surprise, she said, "Third grade. Long story."

I shook my head. Potato was weird. "You know," I said, changing the subject, "Fluffeh claims that my dad is the god of living rooms?"

Potato smirked. "That makes you a demigod with really lame powers."

I laughed. My laugh is high-pitched, cackling, and extremely disturbing to all who hear it. The bus clutched their ears and crouched down in the seat, waiting for this torture to be over. The bus driver, a young lady with a ponytail, only smiled. Odd.

I broke off, gasping for breath. The rest of the class went back to their conversations.

Niceties winced. "Craze, you need to stop doing that."

"Why?" I asked. "It's fun. You guys look so funny when you do that."

She sighed. "We don't like it. Think about other people for once, Craze. Like Corn and I. And the others in our class."

"And me!" Potato said indignantly.

Niceties smiled. "And you."

For two hours we rode that bus, sweating our butts off. The cats at front hissed at each other and got into fights, until the driver calmed them. She was wearing a gymnast's leotard, a strange uniform for a bus driver. I was also surprised that she was as young as she seemed—only about twenty-nine or so. Maybe thirty.

Corn had nearly passed out from the heat. She was cussing under her breath, and for once I was too tired to reprimand her. Niceties was weakly trying to open the windows, but the sun continued to beat down on her without reprieve, and she soon gave up. Fluffeh was absentmindedly batting at her hair, which had actually gone limp, playing a game of Uno with Potato to pass the time. I was trying to nap without success. At last, the bus came to a shuddering halt.

Ms Blondie got up from her seat next to the mysterious driver. "Attention class!" she barked. "We have arrived at Camp Blowemup."

We all sat up faintly, soaked in sweat, eyes dull. Ready to await our fate.

"I will divide you up into groups. They are as followed: Corn, Horsefriend, and Fluffeh; Elevator, Potato, Superfart, and Niceties ..."

At the end of a long list I heard my name. "Craze, Pokes, Choking Hyena, and Bouncefreak."

Crap. That was not good. I had three demons for group partners. All right, Bouncefreak wasn't so bad, and at least I didn't have Hugego, but Pokes and Choking Hyena? Uh-uh.

As it turned out, Camp Blowemup was a military camp. Just our luck. However, I will admit that the bases we were shown to were pretty cool—there were weapons everywhere. Each group—there were seven—had its own base, as well as a tank. I was enthralled and absolutely terrified that Potato would do something deadly at the same moment.

Blowemup's name was taken very literally to our crazy teacher. To quote her, "You guys have been sent here to blow each other up! Doesn't that sound fun?"

Yeah. Definitely.

I armed my self with a bazooka that I had no idea how to operate. Pokes chose a machine gun, Bouncefreak a pistol, and Choking Hyena a machete, which I was sure would be useless. I was almost tempted to shoot my partners, but we were in this against the others. They were my only hope of getting out of this mess alive.

KABOOM!

A horrendously loud explosion shattered the window next to me. Choking Hyena and Pokes were playing chess—I don't know why there was a chess set next to the bombs, so don't ask—while Bouncefreak and I were trying to plan our attack. At the sound of the commotion, we all raced outside.

Base 7—Fruity, Stalker, Hugego, and Erf—had been blown up. A smoking crater was all that was left, leaving us to wonder at the power of the tanks. Operating it was ... Fruity? But why would he blow up his own base?

The tank surged forward, toward Base 6, and Oversport, Colorblind, Fishface, and Oversport scattered, screaming. In another KABOOM! Base 6 vanished, along with the tank beside it. The rest of us—Bases 5 through 1—got the hint and ran.

But where could we run to?

[A/N: Map of Camp Blowemup: http: / i893. photobucke t. com/albums/ac140/russ onsj/MapofCampB lowe (Remove the spaces, of course.).]