yet more opportunities for cross-dressing

1/3 - Gun

Shallow End

The suns were angled low and orange in the afternoon sky when the motorcycle the bounty hunters had "donated" to Wolfwood's church finally gave out. He glared at the grimy beast, the rivulets of oil that seeped down its once silver sides, and chewed hard on his last remaining cigarette. What kind of bounty hunter steals your cigarettes? he griped mentally.

He dusted himself off, removing the body parts the bike would so dearly like to take down with it and backed a fair distance from the monstrosity. Not far off he could see a small cottage. Hopefully, his friends hadn't fled any farther than that.

Wolfwood stared solemnly at the dead bike for a moment, giving serious thought to performing last rites for it. He closed his eyes briefly, bringing folded hands up to his pursed lips.

Then his eyes snapped open. With a vindictive kick at the bike, the minister in black stalked off toward the house.

Distances were deceptive in the desert, but for once that played in Wolfwood's favor. The house turned out to be less than an ile away. In the heat, and after the strenuous morning he'd had, he doubted that could have survived any more.

When he found Vash, after of course he got a little water and nicotine into himself, he was going to kill the blonde idiot. And if he's so much as touched my Cross Punisher, he continued darkly, I'm going to kill him more.

As he approached the small house, he soon discovered that his hunch was right. Both a red coat and various pieces of white clothing had been strung across a drying line in front of the building. So Vash and the girls were definitely there. Naked, but there. Brushing past the line, he drew a curious thumb over Meryl's cloak. It was quite wet; Vash's coat more so.

Raising an eyebrow at no one, he stepped up the porch and knocked on the splintering door, "Hello?"

A gangly, distressed looking young man appeared suddenly from behind the door, carefully blocking whatever lay beyond. He forced a smile at Wolfwood, "Yes, can I help you?"

Wolfwood tilted his head, willing the man out of the way, "I'm looking for my three friends. You seem to have their clothes."

The other man's eyes widen curiously, "Oh?"

The priest glared, "Yeah. One's a tall blonde man - complete idiot with a penchant for exponential property damage." The man maintained a blank gaze, and Wolfwood continued, "Wears red. Like the coat . . . over there!"

The man shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He turned to leave, but Wolfwood caught his arm, "You mean to tell me you actually want to keep that broom head?!

Something flickered in dark eyes, "He didn't seem that bad too me . . ."

"Ha!" Wolfwood grinned, suddenly losing his long forgotten cigarette, "Gotcha. You know who I'm talking about. Now, if you could just take me to him, that loud girl, and her cute partner I'd be much obliged."

The man shifted defensively, "I'm not sure if . . ."

The door knocked into him gently as Milly poked her head out, "Mr. Priest! I thought I heard you!"

He grinned at the insurance girl. The other man sighed, grudgingly stepping to the side and allowing Milly to lead the priest inside. He blinked against the shift in lighting.

And again against the sight that greeted him.

Wolfwood raised his hand questioningly, "Milly, who's that?"

Curled into the far side of a ratty, brown couch was a frail, sweet faced girl. Her short, oddly bent blonde hair fell in planes around her face, shading shocked blue-green eyes. Numbly, she pet a small black cat that seemed equally distant. Beside the couch was a large, cloth-covered spatula.

Milly looked him in confusion, "Who? Mr. Vash?"

"Oh, come on!" Wolfwood laughed, "You don't expect me to believe that girl is Vash, do you?"

She just shrugged, "Why not?"

He laughed again, swiping at the tears in his eyes. Sure, the whiny fool had managed to get himself into the strangest imaginable situations, but . . . The girl before him couldn't possibly be the Humaniod Typhoon. Even if she did look remarkably like Vash. Like a sister of his would look, in fact.

Frowning, the priest questioned, "Tongari?"

The girl jerked, eyes focusing on him. She smiled guiltily, "Uh . . . hi, Wolfwood."

His jaw dropped open. There was no way. It was impossible. And yet, the evidence sat right in front of him, content cat purring in her lap. On a second glance, she looked more like Vash than any mere sister would. His friend's already effeminate features had been refined further, placed into a more delicate face, but it was most definitely Vash.

His mouth worked open and closed again before he found his voice, "What about Meryl? And my cross?"

Milly smiled cheerfully, pointing again to the couch, "Oh, they're right next to Mr. Vash."

Onna-Vash's eyes strayed to the cat in her arms and over to the spatula. Then she winced.

***

"Oh my poor Cross Punisher!" Wolfwood sobbed carefully into the cross beam of his weapon, preventing his tears from falling onto it.

Vash and Meryl glared at him. "What about us?" they demanded.

He hugged the cross closer, sniffing disdainfully at them, "You deserved it."

Meryl flexed her hand, recalling the claws she'd wielded only hours before. Dangerously quiet, she hissed, "I what?"

Wolfwood considered, obviously keeping in mind her predilection toward violence, "Well, not you. Tongari definitely."

"The only one who deserved it was the man who attacked us!" yelled Vash.

"Hmm. At least your curse is fitting." Vash's eyes appeared to glow momentarily, but the black-clad minister dismissed the idea as he continued, "I mean, you have always seemed a bit fruity to me."

Vash's eyes definitely did glow this time, as he stalked over to Wolfwood. He pulled the other man violently from his mourning and slammed him into the wall. In return, Vash's feet were swiftly knocked out from under him. He dragged Wolfwood down with him, however, and they commenced to tussle.

Ignoring the fight, Milly asked suddenly, "What happened to the man who attacked us?"

***

Midvalley repositioned his Sylvia yet again as he watched Legato scan the mesa calmly. All of the available Gung-Ho Guns had been gathered together by swift telepathic command, which had an interesting way of making everyone suddenly available. Their blue-haired commander took quiet satisfaction that they had all appeared before him so loyally, but his concentration was currently diverted elsewhere.

The man who had identified himself as the caretaker of the springs worriedly pressed his palms together beneath Legato's unrelenting stare.

"So. . ." The caretaker wetted his lips nervously, "So you're here to retrieve your friend?"

Amusement flashed briefly in Legato's visible eye, "Yes, our . . . friend."

As the caretaker swallowed and nodded shakily, Midvalley smirked. Legato was in a playful mood. And while that did not bode well for Hoppered now, it certainly would for the Hornfreak tonight.

The poor, harassed native picked something up from the ground beside his feet - a kettle? - and set off silently across the mesa. The Gung-Ho Guns followed apathetically, sparing their unusual surroundings only the occasional glance. The pools were more densely packed and refreshingly clear than any other such areas the Guns had ever visited. But their reputations and uneasiness about their current mission both prevented any thoughts of exploration.

They neared a pool still swirling with the disturbed red sand that had obviously somehow been spilt into it. The shining shell of Hoppered's Göterrier lay beside the pool, in dirt furrowed by desperate fingers. It was bent, damaged irreparably. And in the pool itself, floating face up, was a large, black and white mass.

"Hmm, Spring of the Drowned Panda," commented the caretaker.

Legato carefully nudged a boot into the animal's meaty, soggy side, "Explain."

The caretaker stared at him, debating the merits of running away screaming from this band of freaks. Legato felt the panicked motion of his thoughts and tilted his to the side, yellow eyes examining the man contemplatively. The caretaker shivered, "Of course. The waters of the pools were seeded with ancient, cursed waters brought by the original colonists. Anyone who falls in is cursed with the form of whatever creature drowned in the spring back on Earth."

A menacing, sardonic murmur arose in the gathered ranks.

Legato pushed his toe hard against the beast, "Then Hoppered the Gauntlet has been compromised."

"No!" the caretaker choked out. "There is a way to turn him back-"

The blue-haired man shook his head, "No matter. He is expendable." He grinned suddenly, "And food."

The other Gung-Ho Guns backed away from the pools surreptitiously. That was not the fate they had expected to see Hoppered dealt. Mulling over the disturbing, if oddly arousing, images of being punished similarly, Midvalley clutched Sylvia closer for comfort.

The water of the pool lapped gently at its shore as the panda-creature suddenly awakened. Feral, frightened eyes found the distinctive white of Legato's coat as Hoppered's still-human mind realized his leader's intent. Finding leverage where the Gung-Ho Guns least expected it, he launched himself from the cursed water.

And into Legato.

He stumbled, overpowered by Hoppered's sudden momentum and weight. Both fell in a rolling heap to the ground. The Gung-Ho Guns again edged away. As Legato dodged claws and jaws, his mind worked furiously to get around the strange block that the curse melding humanity and bestiality together had created around his opponents mind.

It wasn't working.

"Midvalley!" he commanded, turning with the force of a blow.

Midvalley nodded, gauging the situation before bringing Sylvia to his lips. The deadly sound waves impacted on the ground before the struggling pair, rippling rock and dirt upward to throw Hoppered off Legato and toss the man in the white-coat clear.

Well, that was what he intended, at least.

The backwash of the sonic undulations hit against Legato, knocking him with perhaps more force than Hoppered. Momentarily stunned, he was unable to recover and Midvalley could only watch with growing mortification as his leader skidded to a halt in yet another spring.

With nimbleness before uncredited to pandas, Hoppered rolled into a run from where the blast has pitched him, aimed directly at Midvalley.

"Oh, shit."

Midvalley curled his arms protectively around his saxophone as several hundred pounds of enraged black and white fur collided with him. Pain cracked in his forearms and slashed down his side. He almost thought he was suffocating for a moment, right before the weight suddenly disappeared.

Splash!

And the he was suffocating because water is clearly not meant to be breathed.

The remaining Gung-Ho Guns reached for their weapons as one as Hoppered turned to face them. He raised a large-clawed paw and let out a primal roar. The others took aim. Hoppered decided it was most prudent to flee.

As he galloped into the distance, the Gung-Ho Guns refocused on their attention the caretaker. And their weapons.

He sighed, "Help me pull them out."

Dominique strode forward to fish out both Midvalley and his clothes, which everyone took as a bad sign, while Rai-Dei and E.G. went to fetch Legato.

The oddly matched pair soon returned, no little confusion coloring their expressions, clothing and a duck clutched in their hands. They shrugged slightly.

With an arm load of pink and tan suit, Dominique presented the new form of their resident Hornfreak to the group - a cute, brown piglet with a tiny toy saxophone held tightly between it's hooves.

"Huh," the caretaker said. "That's almost as weird as what happened to the cross."

He twitched as he realized what he had said. The duck flapped angrily at Rai-Dei while the piglet made adorable, unintimidating bwee sounds.

Dominique fixed him with a one eyed glare, "Cross? Who else got cursed today?"

Mentally, he swore. He couldn't even lie to these folks, "A man in red - Vash - and one of his friends. This little black haired girl. I never caught her name."

"Not the priest?"

"Yeah. But his cross did. Odd, I never knew that could happen."

The duck flapped again, loudly. The caretaker started as he suddenly remembered the kettle at his feet. He picked it up, noting that the desert was quite useful for insulating heat. In the daytime at least.

A quick application of the hot water left Legato naked at Rai-Dei's feet and Midvalley clad only in his saxophone.

Calmly, the caretaker explained, "The curse-forms you assume are only temporary. Cold water activates them, but hot water changes you back. But the curses themselves are permanent."

"You will find us a cure, or die," asserted Legato coolly.

Ignoring him, Dominique brought the conversation back to her earlier point, "What was the curse? Vash's?"

Aware that he was doing the man no favor by replying, the caretaker said, "Spring of the Drowned Girl."

Laughter scattered across the mesa.

"Well, that certainly makes things easier for Knives," snorted Midvalley.

Dominique kicked him, "No, it doesn't. He can still fight in his curse form. Damnit!"

"Then we are useless to Him." The quiet words drew everyone's attention back to Legato. Head bowed, he continued, "We are too weak."

Midvalley cringed, "Is there anyway I could talk you out of telling Knives about this?"

***

"Ma'am? Are you writing up the report?"

Meryl sighed, a finger plucking idly at the typewriter in front of her, "I'm trying to, Milly. But . . ."

Milly stepped all the way into the room, letting the large-headed black cat in her grasp jump down. It padded up to Meryl's chair unhurriedly, rubbing itself against her again tights-clad legs.

Unconsciously reaching down to stroke the cat, Meryl continued, "But will they believe me? And what will they do if they do believe?"

"I don't know Meryl. Call us back?"

Meryl slumped down in her chair, "That's what I'm afraid of."

Milly was silent for a moment. Then, hesitantly, she began, "But it's not like they'd believe it, anyway."

Her partner straightened, "Right! And we wouldn't want to confuse them."

"Absolutely."

"So I'll just tell them the important stuff. About that strange man, or whatever, who attacked and that those springs are very, very dangerous. And that - " Suddenly, Meryl's eyes widened, halting her mid-tirade. Slowly, her gaze slipped toward the black cat.

"Meryl, I think he likes you," Milly giggled.

Meryl screamed, "Milly! Get your damned cat off of me!"

***

So Vash has been cursed as well? Interesting, Knives' voice flowed coolly across the edges of Legato's mind. Use it against him.

His servant stared blankly through the window of his cheap hotel room. So you are not angered that I have become unworthy, Master?

You were once worthy? Sly, cruel amusement.

Legato whimpered, No! Of course not, Master.

Continue as planned. Don't question your importance to me, Legato. And don't get wet.

He almost sighed, his master's words sending a thrill of contentment through him. He grasped at the tiny morsel of approval.

Which Knives soon stole away again, And start looking for a replacement.

-----------

A bit shorter than the last part, but that's okay. The first part was shockingly long anyway. A bit more serious too, but the next part will make up for that. grin Oh, yeah. Heh, and isn't it funny that Meryl (a good guy) lies to her boss whilst legato (a bad guy) is completely truthful no matter what?

Ranma 1/2 is copyright (c) Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Entertainment.

Trigun is copyright (c) Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King Ours.