I do not own anything in this Fanfic; the characters within belong to SEGA and VALVe.
PG-13 for a reason: This fic contains strong language, content of an adult nature, and violence. As such, I don't recommend this fic for children, pacifists, and the far left.
---A Middle-ish part of a Century not unlike the one we just had---
A young girl with blue hair beneath her yellow hardhat looked about the surroundings. It was predominantly male; the seven other team members, beside the Pyro, were male (she never could figure out what the Pyro was, though).
Since she was the only member of the RED team that was female, she found herself in the situation of having to change along side the men. At a prior time, she'd have turned as red as the uniforms, and would have been greeted with a long line of wolf-whistles.
But, that was back when she'd first joined the team.
"Yo, Is. Sorry 'bout earlier."
Isara looked up at the team's Scout. 'Earlier' referred to his failed spy-check, allowing a BLU Spy disguised as the team's Heavy to get right up behind her, and shove that butterfly knife right into her spinal column.
"It's OK, Scout. You're human."
"Yeah... but still... I feel like it's my fault. Sure we respawn every time one of those creeps stick a knife in our backs, or we get blown up by God-knows-what, but... well, yeah."
Knowing the runner would carry the weight of her umpteenth death upon his shoulders (as she had for the first few times her teammates had died) until he died for good, she said to the Scout, "Apology excepted," nodding to him.
"Ok. Thanks. Really, you have no frikkin' idea how much better I feel." The Scout patted her now uncovered hair, not really paying attention to the fact that it wasn't the only thing on either of them that was uncovered.
She watched as the Scout quickly slipped a (predictably) red baseball jersey on, traded his plain brown hat for a Red Sox one, then gave a quick wave; apparently, during the truce, he'd managed to get some well-deserved time off, and was headed back to Boston for some R&R. Though it ended tomorrow, another Scout would come to fill his shoes; perhaps even work along side him.
The rest of the team had basically left. Basically.
The only person left in the locker room was her 'medical' counterpart.
"Hmm-hm-hmm," the Medic was humming some patriotic song pertaining to the Nazi party, when he stopped his tune long enough to noticed Isara was still there, which prompted him to start singing words she didn't know.
"Please stop," Isara said after a good half a minute of the tune; given what she'd heard the Soldier say the Nazis did to the closest thing they had to Darscens, called "Jews," she knew full well the Medic hadn't used that intimidating Ubersaw on her for the sole reason that it wouldn't have killed her (Sometimes, his Spy-checks made her wonder, though).
"Vhy shoold I, Izarah?" The Medic asked in a tone suggesting superiority.
"You wouldn't do it if the Soldier was here."
"But zhe Soldier is not, zo neyah." He'd immaturely stuck his tongue out at her.
Before she'd known it, she'd bashed the Medic with the wrench, prompting him to call out in pain. This caused the Medic to jam the ubersaw's many teeth into her shoulder, causing her to call in pain.
On the other side of the door, the Heavy heard their screams, and being the Heavy, assumed the best. "Ah. Leetle girl and Medik making good friends now!" He shouted. "May-bee leetle... Medgineer, too! Oh, slaps me on knee!"
The actuality was further from the truth. A considerable bruise had formed on the Medic's forehead, and Isara's shoulder was split open. They both had a hard time believing that that didn't effect their health bars.
The Medic watched Isara, having changed into her red sleepwear, walk out of the locker room. Many people would have called him, at minimum, a Jerk. He just figured himself to be a good German.
The door closed. The Medic, standing there in little more than his pants, suspenders, and a white tee-shirt, sighed, thinking about the 'good old days.'
---Valkyria Fortress---
A Crossover fic by RedStormtrooper/S. Solly
Based on Team Fortress 2 (copyright VALVe) and Valkyria Chronicles (copyright SEGA)
--- ---
Alicia was in a dazed state. One moment, Welkin had kissed her to prevent her from using Final Flame to destroy the Marmota, and the next, she was in a locker room, opposite a half-naked man, wearing her old Town Watch uniform, only colored red.
"Ah... so, zhe rumorz vhere true," the Man said to himself. "Ach. Just vhat I need. Anozher Scout rushing headlong to zheir deazh."
"Wha... what?"
"Zhat is vhat you are, bestimmt? A Scout?"
Alicia nodded, then came to her senses. She pointed her rifle at the man, and yelled at him, "WHERE AM I?"
The man only laughed a bit at her unspoken threat. "Go ahead; shoot me, you'll do nozh..."
The rifle jumped in her hands and made a deafening crack. The man nonchalantly rubbed the side of his head, looked at his hand for blood, and said, "See?" in a cocky tone. He pointed at a locker with a winged shoe on it. "Zhat vun is yours. You're right next to zhe Enguneer."
The man slipped a nightshirt over his upper half, and walked out of the locker room, leaving Alicia to her own devices.
Before she could figure out what exactly was going on, the lights in the room clicked off for the night. Perhaps, tomorrow, she'd figure out what was going on here.
She opened the door, and stood, looking at her plain surroundings. It was a fairly basic room; a bit on the rustic side of things, with some strange red liquid splattered over some posters.
"So, you're the new Scout, eh?" A gruff voice said. Alicia whipped around, to see a man with a buzzcut and a semi-blank look in his beady little eyes. "I hope you know more about what you're doing than I think you do, kiddo."
She tossed an angered look at the man. "Watch yourself; do you know who I am?"
"Do you know who I am, Miss?"
She just continued her angry look.
"I am the Soldier. Who the hell are you?"
She pointed her rifle at the Soldier. "The one with a gun."
The Soldier pulled a long metal tube out from behind his back. "Then I'm the one with the bigger gun."
Alicia lowered her rifle, and the metal tube disappeared behind the Soldier's back again.
"I'll ask again, miss. Who are you?"
Alicia sighed. "Alicia Melc..."
"Alright then, Allie. I got two things to tell you." The Soldier's voice had dropped to a deep, dark tone. "One: You follow my lead, and do as I say. Two: Watch your ass, hun, because quicker than you can say 'Stand on the point,' you'll either be on fire and slow cooked to perfection, or some Spy's sex toy."
She couldn't figure whether he'd just insulted or complemented her. "I'll take that last bit as a complement... but don't call me 'hun,' or Allie. I'm Alicia."
"Three: I'll call you whatever the fuck I like. Hun, Allie, Late-for-dinner. So long as you figure the hell out that I'm talking to you. Not that Lardass Ivan, or that damned Nazi, or the shadow of a Frenchie. You." The Soldier pulled Alicia's rifle out of her hands, and said, "Now you stay with me. I want to watch you, Hun."
She was pulled along by the Soldier's grip; the man grasping her wrist in a highly painful manner. They came to a room full of sleeping men, minus the man she'd seen in the locker room, who was reading a book labeled Mein Kampf.
The Soldier tossed Alicia onto an empty bed beside his own, then produced a set of sleepwear of identical pattern to his own from behind his back, and tossed it to her.
"Put it on; the Medic won't watch."
Alicia tossed a confused look at the Soldier, then at the pajamas. "I'm sorry... what exactly do you want me to do?"
"Put your pajamas on, Hun."
She kept up her confused stare.
"Right here; right now."
"Wha..."
The Soldier punched her with a considerable force. The presumed Medic chuckled.
"Don't question me; remember my first rule?"
Alicia sighed, and set about removing her clothing, starting with the headscarf, then on to the red shawl. The Soldier watched her, with a pair of highly attentive eyes she'd only seen before in a grizzled veteran. She became a bit apprehensive in the Soldier's presence when she came to the jacket.
"Could you please..."
"Did I say you could talk?" This Soldier person held no intention of letting her get a word in.
"Just..."
"Did I? Did I?!"
She sighed, and set about undoing the jacket's buttons, turning about as red as the uniform. Soon, the jacked lay on the bed, and the skirt, and stockings.
She then stopped, expecting the soldier to at least have the decency to look away. When it turned out she had no such luck, an angered look once again was displayed on her face.
"You pervert!" she whispered to the Soldier.
He wasn't bothered in the slightest; any other man she knew would have turned at least light pink, if not full-on crimson.
"Turn around. Let me see everything."
"What?"
The Soldier simply motioned with his hand for her to turn; perhaps he was worse than she'd thought. She swallowed some spit (which her imagination soon turned into something else), and turned around for the Soldier.
"Alright. Now put it back on."
At this point, Alicia figured the soldier would have ordered her undergarments off as well, so the order to put the red sweatpants and white shirt on was a relief, as the Soldier kicked off his own shoes, and clicked off the lamp on this headboard.
She hoped that this would only be temporary.