"When I get my hands on dat Tomcat, he ain't gonna have no more teeth!" Muscles exclaimed in an angry fit. He moved over to his punching dummy and pounded punch after punch into the mannequin's torso. 

You just finished explaining Jerry's diagnosis to his cousin and the four of you were all resting in the comfort of the muscular mouse's home. While the boxer lived in a dirty and crime-filled part of the city, you were amazed at the amount of cleanliness within the rodent's home. While a masculine scent lingered throughout the entire house, it wasn't horrendous to the nostrils. Boxing gloves hung from the wall along with several medals from weightlifting competitions and fighting tournaments. Framed pictures expressed Muscles's pride, showing off some of his greatest achievements.

You wanted to remain calm in the conversation. However, it seemed like Muscles was only concerned about getting revenge on the cat that hurt his cousin. You could understand where his emotions came from. You were upset, too, but some little voice inside your head told you that fighting wasn't the answer to the problem. Was it your conscience telling you that violence never helps? Maybe it was fear, making you aware that fighting a cat would only end in disaster. There was no way to tell. You should focus on Jerry's condition first; that was more important.

"There's no need to go after Tom," you stated calmly. You sat down on a small couch made from bean bags. Jerry walked around the house while Nibbles followed him and explored. "The next thing we need is to cause problems with a cat."

The buff rodent continued to obliterate the training dummy in the corner of the house. "Trust me, doll face. Ha-I'd end dat cat and turn him into a new fur rug." Muscles grabbed his training dummy by its neck. "Lock him in a choke hold til his face turn purple. Den, I'd rip dose ears off like a band-aid!" He decimated the dummy, ripping its head off and breaking the seams. White cotton fluff poured from its wounds. "He'll be beggin fer mercy, den I'll end him." He dropped the mannequin from his arms, allowing it to spill its insides all over the floor.

"If you do that, you'll have all the cats in the city hunting you down," you argued. You crossed your arms and held a serious glare. However, your stare had little effect on the yellow-clad mouse, whom only rubbed his nose and smirked as you spoke. "You're just looking for trouble."

"If you're gonna get in trouble fer hittin someone, better hit 'em as hard as ya can, right?"

"No, not right!" you shouted. You stood from the couch, standing face to face with the male. "You'd be endangering hundreds of innocent mice from all over the city. Those cats won't just go after you, they'd attack any mouse they find."

"Ya know, if we mice stood up fer ourselves instead of hiddin behind these walls, dose dang cats wouldn't stand a chance," Muscles responded. His aggressive personality was beginning to get on your nerves. "Ain't you a doc?"

"Yes, I am."

"Ain't you tired of seeing injured mice in da clinic? Don't 'cha ever want to teach dem cats a lesson?" He leaned forwards, matching your height as he spoke right into your face. "Don't tell me your some kind of cat lover?"

"I'm not a cat lover," you hissed in a whispered voice. "Half of my patients are in the hospital because they tried to beat up a feline or hound dog. They wouldn't be hurt if they didn't try to pick a fight."

"They pick da fight wit us!" the brown mouse snapped. "We got to worry 'bout exterminators, cats, dogs, humans, traps...our world is a giant field of landmines! It's discrimination, I tell ya! Not a single soul cares about da life of a rodent. We're just dirty vermin to 'em. Why are ya so against fightin back?!"

You opened your mouth to reply, but words were caught in your throat. Once again, you tried to understand your reasoning behind your words. Why didn't you support an uprise? Muscles had sound logic and emotions behind his words, but your heart and mind continued against it. You fought a street cat at the beginning of your adventure for Pete's sake! Why were you being so stubborn? There had to be a reason.

You thought back, reflecting on everything you had learned on this adventure. Mice had friends all over the place, from ducklings on farms to moles in the sewers. Allies existed in all different places in many different forms. Once that thought entered your mind, you remembered one key detail that supported your claim.

"Do you know who brought Jerry into the clinic?" you asked calmly.

"A mouse," Muscles responded with his arms crossed. Behind him, Jerry turned to face the heated conversation. "Dat's the only friend we mice can get."

"It was a cat," you shot back. "The same cat you want to lock in a choke hold and tear apart."

Muscles stared down at you with harsh eyes. He was angry, holding back the urge to swear or punch at you with his bulky fists. He pointed a finger into your chest, slowly hissing an insult in your direction. "Yer lyin, ain't no cat care about us. You probably said dat just ta make me mad. After all, we injured mice are what give ya a paycheck, right?"

"I just like to believe that not all cats are bad," you responded with a smile. "Now, how about we focus on something other than a revolt?"

"I fight cats fer a living, doll face. Ain't no such thing as a good cat."

Muscles backed away from your small figure in a huff. He stomped over to his dead mannequin and began picking up the ripped pieces and artificial entrails. You looked over to Nibbles and Jerry, only to find them in a surprised daze. Suddenly, little NIbbles began clapping and applauding you for your arguments, although he truly didn't understand how serious the conversation was. Jerry immediately held the little mouse's hands together, stopping him from annoying the other brown mouse any more. Still, you smiled at the toy boys, thinking their antics to be quite cute.

Once Muscles had cleaned the dummy from off the ground and into the trash, he fetched another one from the closet. He hung it up in the corner, completely replacing the broken one. "So, what are ya really here for?"

"Can you help Uncle Jerry remember anything?" Nibbles asked his relative.

"Ha," the brown mouse chuckled. "I sure got some cool stories 'bout our adventures in cat crushin."

He walked over to a small set of drawers in the opposite corner of the hole. He pulled out a small photo album of pictures and flipped through the pages. "Jerry put dis together durin our last family reunion. You weren't even born yet, kid." The brown mouse moved over to the couch and sunk into the cushion. Nibbles came and sat down next to him, pulling Jerry along. "Deez are all pictures of us fightin no good street cats." He glared up at you and spoke. "Hope you don't mind, doll face."

You walked over and sat down next to Jerry, who was holding Nibbles on his lap. "Not at all," you hissed.