Title: Why the Scout Hates Rainbows
Premise, or Lack Thereof: A few of the Team Fortress 2 classes as Sailor Senshi
Reason for Banishment: More or less jokefic written on a whim
It was official. Jack Cunningham hated his life.
It started when he sort of “saved” a cat from some bullies; he didn’t even know the thing was there, he just wanted to scare off the assholes who were trying to get a piece of his territory. He was trying to shoo it away from him, because his family was already so large that having pets were forbidden—not that Jack didn’t feed his share of stray dogs who responded to him and even did tricks on occasion—when, hand to God, it talked to him. In a motherfucking British accent, no less.
“Well, you’re not what I expected, but beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”
Jack blinked at the cat produced what looked like a cheap plastic pen (or maybe what his mom kept in her sock drawer for when she didn’t feel like bringing a man over for, ah, “tea”, like she was fooling anybody) and tossed it at him. “Um—?” He, meanwhile, was still staring at the cat and trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not.
“Just hold up the wand and say the words ‘Moon Power Make Up’. Please. It’s very important.”
That snapped him out of it. “No. No fucking way. Not even if it’s the end of the world. I’m not doing any of this ‘Moon Power Make Up’ bullshit—”
One sound and light show later—what happened to his clothes? Or his pride and joy, for that matter? Oh, hey, he had boobs now, that was kind of sweet–Jack was in a skirt so short he might as well have been in his underwear and whose neckline would have caused street walkers to express their disapproval.
The cat, meanwhile, was dashing back out into the streets. “The monsters are already attacking. You must hurry!”
“You’ve GOT to be kidding me,” Jack muttered, but he decided to humor the creature for the time being. He figured that the sooner he humored the beast, the sooner he could get out of this mess.
But he was so not about to try running in high heels. He kicked those off and bounded after the cat in his bare feet.
A single red rose shot through the air and embedded into the ground, shedding a few petals. “Gentlemen.”
Jack stared. Above them, perched on top of a phone pole, was a man in the most impractical, expensive looking suit ever, his face obscured by a ski mask even though holes had been cut out for his eyes and mouth. He tipped his top hat at the group gathered below, his cape fluttering in a breeze Jack didn’t feel on the ground below. “Hey!” Jack called up to the man. “You gonna just stand there and hog the spotlight, or are you gonna do anything useful?”
The man bowed to his waist. “It is only proper that I make a dramatic entrance, is it not?” He smirked at Jack, pulling a cigarette out of a slim silver case. “Besides, you seem to be doing just fine.”
Jack almost stamped his foot—even if he had a body of a girl at the moment, hell if he was ever going to act like one—but managed to settle for flipping the bird instead. “Oh, yeah? Well, fuck you and the horse you rode in on! Let’s see if I ever help your useless ass if you land in hot water.”
The man tsked. “Such language! I hope you do not kiss your mother with that mouth.”
“Told you not to touch the darned thing!” Sailor Mercury chortled, refilling the shells on a contraption that just screamed overcompensation and gestured in what Jack hoped was not a gang sign.
“Huh. So you can shoot a monster to death after all.” Jack smirked, an idea blossoming in his mind.
The next battle saw Jack chasing after the monsters with a dented aluminum bat in hand, grinning a mile wide, while Luna chased after him screaming that he was supposed to be purifying their hearts instead. Jack just made a face at Luna and kept running.
“Huddah huddah huh!” The red-clad girl—or boy, or boy-turned girl, it was impossible to tell with that full body hazmat suit, complete with gas mask—moved in a manner reminiscent of those old martial arts movies. Then a ball of flame erupted from between his/her/its cupped hands, spiraling outward to consume the enemy.
Jack gaped. This was so unfair. How come everyone else got the cool powers? Okay, so all Sailor Mercury’s spray thing was make it foggy and cold as fuck for a few minutes, but it was better than the sparkling light show that Jack could shoot out of his wand (and it wasn’t even THAT kind of wand, sigh) when it felt like cooperating with him. Seeing Sailor Mars be able to shoot goddamn fire made him wish he could quit the whole fighting evil by moonlight thing.
But where else would he be able to bat his enemies to death and not get in trouble over it?
Jack was sure he was going to be sick. Sailor Jupiter somehow squeezed into a leotard at least too sizes too small without popping a single stitch out of place, and every inch of her jiggled with nauseating rhythm when she moved.
Sailor Jupiter noticed Jack and waved. “Hi! I am the Sailor from Jupiter! Let us kill many monsters together, yes?”
Jack made a mental note to exchange some very strong words with Luna as soon as he saw that scrawny little cat again. “Yeah, whatever.” He pulled on Sailor Mercury’s sleeve to break her gaze. “Come on, let’s get this over with before either of us blow chunks.”
Jack was, to say the least, a bit suspicious. The gross Australian bum living under the bridge was both Sailor Venus and the reincarnated Moon Princess? “You sure? I mean, I’m Sailor Moon, right?”
“The Princess had many bodyguards to protect her,” Luna said with an imperious air, as if that explained everything. “Besides, he has to be the Princess. He has an accent.”
“So does the rest of the team,” Jack muttered. “And that creepy Tuxedo Mask guy.”
“That may be so, but he is the only one with the right accent.” Luna sighed, her eyes dreamy. “And he’s so handsome.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “We are talking about the same dude, right? Drunk as fuck all the time, doesn’t takes baths, pees in a jar?”
“He drinks because he’s had to shoulder a lot of pain,” Luna insisted. “And where would he take a bath? Plus, don’t you think he’s being very considerate by not relieving himself into the river?”
Jack shook his head. There was no accounting for taste, not even when it came to magical moon cats, he guessed. “Well, if you’re sure.” He snickered. “Good luck trying to tell him you’re not just a hallucination.”
Nothing much surprised Jack these days, not since he met the talking cat and became a girl for hours, sometimes even days at a time and chased after monsters in an outfit that just wasn’t practical for anything.
So when, in the middle of a pitched battle where everybody was being tossed about left and right like ragdolls and Jack’s mind was a constant stream of fuck we’re going to die and all I have is a goddamn bat, the lame-ass looking brooch pinned just high enough on Jack’s outfit to cover cleavage began to glow, Jack was not alarmed in the least. He did let out a very undignified scream, though, when a very large, very pointy crystal began sprouting from there.
Hey, man, sudden, inexplicable gemstone growths hurt.
By the time the stabbing pain stopped, the monsters were dead (how convenient), everybody was still alive even if all of them would be too sore to walk the next day, and Jack was in a dress.
A white, frills up the wazoo, glittering dress. Oh, and was that a crown on his head? Yes it was. A very heavy crown that, if Jack could somehow pawn without getting too many questions asked, could feed his whole family forever and Mom wouldn’t need to work overtime at the factory.
Tuxedo Mask dropped to one knee and kissed Jack’s gloved hand, looking dead serious about this. “Princess. I have been searching for you for so long.”
Okay, now Jack was freaking out a little, because he wasn’t a fag and he didn’t want a dude hitting on him. “Uh—”
Except Tuxedo Mask had already rose, quick as lighting, and held Jack in what looked like a tight hug. “I do not like this any more than you do, young Jack.” He murmured against Jack’s ear. “But these are the roles we must play until the stage is set.”
“How did you—” Jack’s question was stopped by a deep kiss on the mouth—oh, God, there was tongue, too, ew ew ew.
“I know a great many things, my darling.”
Fuck this. Fuck everything. Everything Luna told him, about the Power of the Moon, the Power of Friendship, the Power of Love—lies, all of it.
They had walked right into a goddamn slaughter.
Now, his team—his friends—were all dead. Even that slippery Tuxedo Mask jumped in front of Jack at the last possible moment to take a blast of dark energy, claiming that his body had moved on his own accord.
And the Thing was still there, laughing, mocking. “What will you do now, Princess? You have no allies left. And you lack the purity of heart to wield the Millennium Crystal to its full potential.” The Thing stretched out a gaunt hand, blood still dripping from its manicured claws. “Just hand it over already and I will make your death quick an painless.”
Jack’s hands curled around the crystal. “Yeah, right. And I’m the Easter Bunny.” He pointed it at the Thing, ignoring the blinding pain shooting through his arms. “I don’t need Purity of Heart. I just need to want you fucking dead bad enough, even if using this thing kills me and everything else.” He was close, so very close. “And guess what—I do.”
It leered at him. “Go ahead and try, Princess. I look forward to our battle in your next life.”
It was getting hard to stay conscious, but somehow Jack held on. All he needed to do was point the crystal in the right direction. As if he could miss that stupid giant lightning bolt in what one could call the Thing’s hair.
The crystal was charged. With his last bit of strength, Jack aimed it and let the beam of energy fly.
Then, there was light.
Light. The Scout saw light.
“—hey, I think he’s finally coming to.”
Everything was a vague blur, like he’d just drank a whole case of Bonk.
“Scout. Scout? You there, buddy?”
The Scout blinked a few times, and the vague blur settled into the Engineer, who was hovering over him like some mother hen, and the Medic, who was standing off to the side aiming his Medigun at him.
“Sup?” he greeted, the fog from his mind lifting. Now he remembered. He had downed a can of Bonk, running in front of the Sentry as a distraction while the Spy sneaked around back to sap it. Except the Spy didn’t plunk that Sapper down quite fast enough and the effects of the drink was running out just as a rocket was headed straight for him. He’d blacked out, of course, and then–and then what? “You guys got that Sentry, right?”
The Engineer nodded. “We got it good, son. And Solly capped the intel, won the round.”
“Aw, I missed Humiliation? That sucks.” For some reason, the first thing the Scout wanted to do after regaining some control of his hands was to pat his chest, and was relieved to discover his dogtags but nothing else. What was he expecting to find?
The Medic scoffed. “You are lucky that you are even still alive. If the Engineer didn’t put down a Dispenser in time, you would have bled out long before I could get to you.”
“So? There’s the respawn, isn’t it?” The Scout got up and stretched, feeling sore all over, more than he ever felt after a grueling mission.
“You weren’t waking up right away, not even after the Medic got here.” The Engineer stayed nearby, as if expecting the Scout to pass out again. “You had us real worried.”
“Well, I’m okay now, aren’t I?” The Scout jogged in place a bit to work the strength back into his legs. “Come on, let’s get some grub, I’m starving.”
Kind of, Sort of Epilogue:
The Scout stared at the little pink-haired girl in an all-too familiar looking school uniform. “Hi, Mommy!” she chirped, waving up at him. “I’m your daughter, from the future!”
“Mommy?” the Scout repeated, horrified. “Do I even want to know who the dad is?”
The girl giggled and pointed at the Spy, who was doing an excellent job of staring at anything but her. “Him, of course! Like anybody else could be Tuxedo Mask!” She pulled on the Scout’s hand. “Now, come on! We’ve got to save the world so I don’t unexist and cause some kind of wacky time paradox or whatever!”