Guantanamo woke up slowly, a vague imprint of Bela's slightly offended face swimming across his mind. His memory seemed strangely foggy...
Then he became aware that he felt cold-though he wasn't shivering. And it didn't make sense for it to be cold, they were camped outside of Phoenix, Arizona for the newest race. During spring too. there was something else missing...
He couldn't feel his tail.
At that, Guanta sat straight up with a yelp. "What in-"
The sentence stalled instantly on his tongue. He'd spoken in a slightly high, raspy voice and gained a Romanian accent. He felt numbly at his throat, his finger catching on a stiff shirt collar. At the same moment, he became acutely aware that he felt much more thickset than usual. Quickly he looked down at his hands.
They were purple, with short and stubby fingers.
Guantanamo sat for another few seconds in horrified silence before leaping to his feet, stumbling as he nearly fell over. He patted himself down, feeling like a bucket of ice had been emptied into his stomach. He was felt at least a foot shorter, and his frame seemed to have gone from being incredibly lanky to broad and slightly pudgy. To top this series of unpleasant discoveries off, he was wearing a gray coat, fingerless gloves and a black tie that he always associated with...
Bela?
He grabbed at the tie, then gripped a fistful of the coat in one hand, the other poking at his chest in a kind of denial. The movement caused long black hair, streaked through with untimely gray, to fall into Guanta's line of sight.
If it weren't for the gray coat, he was sure he would have been able to feel it falling across his shoulders.
"No, no no," he chanted. Then Guantanamo stopped, feeling ill at the sound of the voice that wasn't his. Numbly he traced the new fingers across Bela's right eye, feeling the raised marks of the three pronged scar that marked his friend's face. He ran his tongue nervously over his teeth, wincing as he felt the empty spot that had used to be home to Bela's missing right canine.
No matter how many times he asked, Bela had never spilled about how he got the scar or had lost the tooth.
The part of him still operating rationally knew that the only thing that made sense at the moment was to find...himself.
Thus he took a tentative step back, attempting to orient himself, and cast a furtive glance around him to see if anyone else had woken up.
Predictably, Guanta was standing near the Creepy Coupe, just outside a tent propped up against the car's looming belfry. Karloff lay halfway under it, the orc still asleep. Guanta saw him shift slightly, but thought nothing of the fact- he was likely just dreaming. The others in the immediate area- Luke and blubber, meekly and his sergeant- didn't seem to have awoken either, if the stillness of their tents was anything to go by. Of course, the sun hadn't even come up yet, orange dashed across the horizon the only sign of its approach.
Come to think of it, Guanta would have thought he could see better right now with Bela being a vampire and all.
The thought reminded him of the possibility that he could accidentally trigger Bela's vampire abilities.
Uneasily Guanta tried to mentally poke at them, attempting to see if he could feel any kind of supernatural energy.
He thought he managed to make contact, yet the energy he encountered felt...splintered, like broken glass, giving the sense that drawing on it would hurt somehow. Guanta quickly balked away from it, deciding that he might not have to worry to much about Bela's powers after all.
It certainly did not feel like it wanted to be called on. On some instinctive level Guanta knew that this was abnormal, but he quickly set the thought aside.
Numbly, Guantanamo decided to hell with it if anyone woke up, and Bela's abilities were not his problem-he had no desire to try using them anyway.
Grimly he set off for his own campsite, still somewhat praying that he didn't run into anyone else.
Guanta was sure that as a result of his panic and how carefully he was trying to walk while adjusting to a new center of balance, he was looking a good deal less dignified than the vampire would normally like. Nonetheless, he had navigated far enough toward his car to see Eagle sleeping on top of it, and his senses were at least still good enough to hear a strangled gasp...
Bela's head hurt. The vampire had only ever felt pain in brief flashes before-normally his kind healed fast...
His thoughts felt slow. Bela could, however, remember just enough of last night to know two things-
Bela felt as though something odd had happened last night, though he couldn't even come close to guessing what. And he remembered one of the last things Guantanamo had said before they'd called it a night.
Why in the world would I want to be a glorified flying rat?
It had technically been a joke, Bela mostly felt sure of that. But it had still stung somehow...
Then it occurred to him that he felt far too hot. Bela shifted in place, felt something brush against his leg. This prompted his eyes to shoot open.
A sudden wave of itchiness washed over him. With a impatient growl he sat up, deciding to get to the bottom of this.
His eyes opened to a striped tail draped over equally striped legs.
With paws on the end. Abruptly he raised his hands.
A choked gasp escaped his throat upon recognizing them as Guantanamo's appendages, tipped with chipped, pointed nails.
'Damn it all.'
The word snapped him back to reality. Bela stood abruptly and whipped around at the sound of his own voice, coming face to face with himself. The copy's shoulder length dark hair was disheveled and their face bore a expression of dazed horror.
Belatedly Bela realized he was taller than he was used to, by at least a foot. Himself was having to crane their neck to look at him. Bela glanced sideways and sighted his reflection in the windshield of the Wrangler.
He was greeted with the face of Guantanamo the tiger, still decked out in a ragged shirt, gray camo vest and pants; all clothes which Bela himself would never dream of being caught in.
"Bloody hell, no." Guantanamo's voice emerged from his throat, using a phrase that he himself had would never utter. Bela was barely aware of saying the words, just of how terrifyingly natural it felt to say them. He reached up and poked at his new nose, grimacing at how wet it felt. He felt paralyzed, his new body heat restrictive. Phantom itches seemed to be plaguing him now, too-perhaps from the realization that he had Guanta's thick coat of fur.
''Guantanamo.'' Bela's words were less of a question and more of a fact.
The mute nod he got back was more than enough confirmation. Bela swore violently in Romanian.
Guantanamo shuffled awkwardly in place and Bela realized he was staring wide eyed at him-probably from the surreal sound of his own voice speaking Romanian and his own image moving without him.
Bela could relate-far more than he wished.
Eagle snorted and shifted in place slightly. Something felt very, very wrong...
He finally succumbed to waking up and opening his eyes. Eagle let out an alarmed squawk when he found his view blocked by brown hair. He rolled clumsily onto his side and moved to swipe it away, then froze. His wing had been replaced by a large green hand with uneven, broad nails. And his squawk had been much to low...
He realized with a start he had somehow ended up sleeping on the ground, right next to the Creepy Coupe. And his reflection in the side of the car was of Karloff.
Eagle cracked his lips open-such a strangely flexible sensation compared to a beak-and involuntarily croaked out a single word in Karloff's low voice. ''What?''
with a gulp Eagle scrambled into a crouch, nearly toppling over. He slowly sat back, feeling at his now much broader shoulders. Eagle made a second irritated attempt to sweep the hair from his eyes, running a nervous tongue over Karloff's teeth, another foreign body his mind was struggling to accept. He felt weak and sick, and the orc's enormous bulk made Eagle feel like gravity had increased its hold on him a thousandfold. At the same time, Karloff's huge shoulders felt like awkward weights. The sensation of wearing clothes was no better-it felt itchy and restrictive. The excellent eyesight all raptors were gifted with was gone. Eagle felt horrifically blind and vulnerable as a result.
From a practical standpoint he knew this was ridiculous. Karloff was easily one of the strongest beings he'd ever met. But in this current situation, he couldn't help it...
Eagle felt trapped in more ways than one. Except the trap was made of bones and flesh, and that wasn't the kind of thing that could just be shed off-and of course, it didn't help that he'd gone from being a bird to being something largely human in terms of biology.
He didn't move for a few more moments, eyes shut. Maybe if he did, Eagle would wake up and none of this would have ever happened. Except, of course, he knew-instinctively- it was reality. No dream felt this pervasively real.
His eyes snapped open when he heard a horrified screech from farther away. To his recollection, the Wrangler wasn't that far from here, and that sound was from his own vocal cords. Eagle knew every single sound he'd ever made.
Hurriedly he grit his new teeth and stood up. He took a tentative step with one foot, staring down at Karloff's enormous ironshod boots. Eagle took a few more uncertain steps before his urgency took over, and he broke into a full run toward the Wrangler, by some miracle managing not to step on anyone...
Karloff felt metal digging into his back. He grunted and rolled over, wondering blearily when the ground had started to feel so strange. He felt weirdly light...and there was a muddle of noise in his ears. Then there was nothing below him.
Karloff let out a startled grunt as he hit the ground. His spinning sight leveled out and he beheld the image of his best friend. He stared a moment in a kind of dull surprise, taking in the vampire's strangely untidy appearance.
''What happened?'' Bela's voice was strangely panicked. He had grasped the front of Guanta's vest with obvious desperation. ''Please tell me you remember something! I can't!' he coughed and raised a fist to his mouth. ''God, I sound horrible.''
''get off me!'' Guantanamo shoved the vampire off. ''I remember being...drunk? Or maybe I'm remembering you being drunk. 'cause...'' the werewolf trailed off, a horrified look on his face. ''I can't-or-don't insult my voice!''
''It's fine when it's not me-I didn't mean...never mind. I should stop talking...'' the vampire ended the sentence with a groan. He made a gesture like he was going to cover his eyes, only to stop with a sickened expression, staring at his hands. Karloff made to get up, then stumbled and flapped his arms. He let out a alarmed yelp when he lifted off the ground.
Both of them jumped, but Karloff hardly noticed. He was gawking down at himself-he saw brown feathers and two sets of yellow bird feet with curved black claws. Eagle claws.
The shock caused him to freeze up and he tumbled onto the rocky ground again. A involuntary trill of anger escaped his throat as he awkwardly maneuvered into a four legged crouch. Both Bela and Guantanamo froze and stared at him.
''Er...' the vampire suddenly looked even more frightened. ''Eagle! I'm Guanta!''
Karloff barely noticed the statement- he was turning in place, still trying to comprehend why had had feathers. Not that he found the vampire's words to be a unbelievable statement, considering-
Then they all looked up at a sudden thump. Karloff was met with his own image, spread flat on the ground where they had fallen over. For a moment he tried to convince himself this was all his imagination, or that he'd eaten something strange last night.
The split second of fantasy was shattered when himself abruptly rose into a crouch and pointed at him. ''Me!''
Karloff winced at both the surrealism and the inexpert, stumbling pronunciation. Bela and Guanta spent that second gaping.
Then Guantanamo stiffened and looked between them. ''Excuse me?''
''That's...I'm..Eagle.'' The one now revealed as Eagle grimaced and rubbed the back of one hand over his mouth. He pointed at Karloff again, still stumbling over pronunciation. ''Kar...loff?''
Bela's expression became even more horrified. ''Blast it-damn all of reality. This just became worse?''
''Yes.''
Eagle was now staring at who appeared to be Bela, standing with his knees bent and his shoulders hunched in a pose that looked ridiculous with Karloff's huge frame. ''Guanta, what now?''
Guantanamo just shook his head, picking at Bela's coat. He still looked rather nauseous, and it was obvious from the stiff set of his shoulders that the tiger was just as uncomfortable as Karloff felt, and Eagle certainly looked. Out of everyone, only Bela seemed to be calm-though stuck with a different face, Tiny could see signs of true fear that he would normally hide.
''Can anyone remember what may have caused this?'' Karloff's attempt to talk sounded like nothing but squawks to him. Since Guantanamo could understand his partner, he expected the tiger-turned-vampire to respond. To everyone's surprise, Bela spoke up first.
''I am afraid I cannot, my friend.''
Guantanamo gawked at Bela, his eyes perfectly round in shock. ''How did you understand that too?''
Bela's now thicker eyebrows came together in thought. ''Perhaps through you being able to understand it?''
Guanta blinked, then shook his head impatiently. ''It doesn't matter.' he cast Eagle a look of hopeful desperation. ''Eagle, do you have any idea how...''
Eagle frowned. ''No,'' he mumbled.
Guantanamo emitted a guttural snarl of frustration, causing everyone to stare at him-none of them had ever heard Bela's voice make such a sound. He was still staring down at himself with a somewhat disgusted look that Bela didn't seem to appreciate, if his glare was any indication.
''Whatever caused this must've happened at the bar,'' Guanta hissed.
''Or in the dead of night,'' Karloff squawked, inspecting his unfamiliar wings with a kind of morbid fascination.
''And yet,'' Bela spoke up, his tone laced with clear belligerence. ''I can remember nothing from last night. And vampires can't get drunk.''
Guanta's now yellow eyes flashed in reproach. Bela spared him a slightly cold glance. ''And I'm just going to readily assume none of us can remember anything. Raise a hand if so.''
All four did, resulting in yet another moment of frozen silence.
''might as well keep trying to speculate,'' Bela posited. ''It's, well...''
''Not as though we have anything else to do?" Guanta replied dully.
After a good while of unfruitful suggestions and awkward exchanges, they all jumped as a distant horn blared.
Karloff realized that the light had gotten much stronger.
Guanta groaned. ''The race. Blast it all.''
''What are you four doing?'' they all turned to see Barnstorm marching up to them, clear irritation radiating from her deceptively short form.
''The race is gonna start, get to the cars. I don't know what you've all been doing the last hour-''
''We can't-'' Guanta stammered, recoiling slightly when Barnstorm glared at him from under her hat. ''We...''
''You what-''
''Are not us,'' Bela interjected in a attempt to both reason with the promoter and calm her down.
Barnstorm just stared at them. Then she pointedly walked behind Guantanamo and shoved him forward. Guanta yelped and awkwardly windmilled his arms to keep from falling flat on his face. A mild wave of heat surged through him at the near embarrassment.
''To your cars. I won't hear any more of this practical joke.'' Then Barnstorm marched off, the four of them gaping after her.
At last Bela breathed a long sigh. ''It seems there is no choice.''
Guanta felt his stomach drop for a second time. 'there is not?' he said weakly. He winced again at the sound of a different voice in place of his own.
Karloff shifted from one eagle foot to another. ''Would you have us forfeit a race?''
Eagle let out a rumble of discontent, flexing his new hands. He cast Guanta a look that he easily interpreted. The former tiger allowed his shoulders to slump, one hand trailing over his unfamiliar torso.
''Yes,'' he muttered. ''There is no choice.''
As the group of four unwillingly split, Guantanamo shuddered slightly. A new feeling of illness had settled in now. He had an odd feeling that he was starting to use the speech patterns Bela would- a thought that certainly didn't help Guanta feel any better. It was bad enough he was stuck with the vampire's voice.
Even more irksomely, he had managed to pick up an ache in his back. Combined with the gray hairs and a stiffness he had noticed in one knee, as though from a badly healed injury, Guanta was feeling older than he thought he should.
Guanta himself was in his early forties; as far as he knew, Bela was only a year older than him, and most likely didn't have any reason to lie about his age.
Yet he had never experienced any aches like this, leaving the tiger to feel like he had become ten years older in one night.
Just gets better and better, he thought sourly.
He glanced at Eagle. His partner was unconsciously picking at the sleeves of Karloff's shirt and determinedly watching the orc's large feet. Eagle let out a irritated snort as he tried once again to sweep the long brown hair out of his eyes. Guanta would have liked to say something, but not only did he not seem to have the words-a phenomenon he didn't like, considering he usually was full of them- he was afraid of what he would hear if he spoke again.
All too soon, they reached the Creepy Coupe, despite them both walking in a way that could only be described as stiff and awkward. The tent had vanished- Guanta suspected the wary dragon watching them was responsible. It huffed a trail of smoke.
Eagle raised his hands with a flinch. He slowly started to edge around the front of the antique hearse, attracting odd looks from their nearby fellow contenders. ''Fine. It's all...fine.'' Eagle paused, licking his lips in what could only be nerves.
Guanta had enough experience with the dragon to know the beast had a cowardly streak a mile wide, at least while it wasn't coiled in the car's belfry. Despite that, the dragon still looked skeptical in a dragonish way. On the off chance they'd truly need the dragon's help, Guanta realized with dread he would need to speak again.
Guanta fiddled with the collar of Bela's coat as he walked closer, the dragon's head turning to face him. ''Greetings, Bernard-''
The former tiger froze momentarily. He'd never known that the the dragon even had a name. He glimpsed Eagle casting him a startled look. Guanta doggedly kept talking despite that-it didn't matter right now. ''We are not ourselves, my friend, but you know Guanta and Eagle? We became them overnight...''
He trailed off and uttered a tiny curse under his breath. He'd done it again-phrased his sentence in the formal way Bela always tended to talk.
Nonetheless, the dragon-Bernard- seemed to have understood. His nostrils flared slightly, and the dragon gave them a slightly disgruntled nod.
Guanta awkwardly approached the driver's side of the Coupe. ''You do not need to help us unless...''
Eagle had already shimmied into the passenger seat, though he looked stiff as a board. ''We go off cliff?''
By now Guanta was attempting to settle in the driver's seat. ''Or something.'' He muttered.
The series of horn blasts that called the cars to the starting line sounded, and he hastily felt in the pockets of the coat for a key. He glimpsed Eagle putting the parking brake down. Finding the key at last, Guanta numbly started the unfamiliar vehicle. The Coupe's engine came on, the engine emitting a low whine and a fast putter. He resisted the urge to sob when the Wrangler's powerful, roaring engine started up not far away.
Eagle sighed. ''Miss it already?''
''Yes.' Guanta's throat felt stuffed. He'd built that engine, spent endless hours tuning it. ''Oh yes.''
His partner rumbled in a understanding way, at this point seeming to prefer staring at the Coupe's dashboard over looking at himself.
He shifted in place-sitting was an even more uncomfortably awkward sensation than standing. Guanta felt constricted, the coat seeming to tighten around him. He was fairly sure Bela had a leather belt on, too-he felt as though it was too tight and the buckle was digging into him. Stiffly he gripped the steering wheel and tried the accelerator.
The result was, at first, nothing. Temper flaring, Guanta let out a involuntary hiss and brought his foot down with vengeance. The Creepy Coupe lurched forward in a sudden burst of speed, and he had to flatten the brake to avoid running into the Compact Pussycat. Penelope tossed her hair and glared at him.
''Watch where you're driving that little old thing!''
Guanta could do nothing but mumble a embarrassed apology that he was sure Penelope didn't actually hear. Eagle grimaced at him. He could have sworn Bernard, the dragon whose name he shouldn't know, had emitted a snigger at his vast humiliation.
The Turbo Terrific and his own car passed them. Bela cast Guanta a look of strong disapproval as he passed, which Guanta countered with a scowl. It was hardly his fault this thing was so unresponsive.
He tried again, this time managing to slowly parse the Coupe up to a reasonable cruising speed.
Guanta had never liked the idea of driving the Creepy Coupe, despite the close friendship/rivalry he and Eagle had formed with its drivers. He'd admired the aesthetic and rarity of the antique hearse, for sure- but the engine had always seemed like it was straining. Guanta had often considered it a miracle that the Gruesome Twosome had ever been able to come in first driving it.
He knew what would likely have to be done to get the thing into a truly proper condition. Gutting the engine and rebuilding the whole thing, much as he had done for the Wrangler on acquisition.
It was a prospect that neither Bela or Karloff had ever seemed fond of, even though Guanta had volunteered to do them this immense favor several times.
Guanta shook his head impatiently as he tentatively inched the Creepy Coupe into its spot in the lineup. This wasn't his main problem right now-what he needed to know was the cause of this whole bodyswap mess. Glumly he reflected that it seemed no else had been effected outside of the four of them.
They had a few more minutes before the starting horn sounded, as the announcer brought the audience in the stands up to speed. Sitting back, Guanta stared for a moment at the unfamiliar yet familiar hand on the wheel. Then, deciding he had to do something about how tight the coat felt, he began to hurriedly fiddle with the garment's buttons. Eagle started and glanced at him. Guanta was aware that some of the other racers nearby might have been staring too as he rapidly finished unbuttoning the coat and began to loosen Bela's tie. He didn't care.
Guanta groaned in disappointment. Unbuttoning the coat and loosening the tie hadn't helped much with the feeling that the vampire's clothes were constricting him. He was tempted to unbutton the black dress shirt underneath the coat, but it was loose enough already that he was sure it wouldn't help anything.
Eagle frowned. ''What wrong?''
Laying both of the vampire's small hands on the wheel again, Guanta shut his eyes and spoke through grit teeth. ''I feel fat.''
His partner stiffened even more and looked past the Pussycat and Convertacar. ''Hope Bela not hear.''
Following his gaze, Guanta realized with wince that Bela had placed the Wrangler at the end of the line. He was giving him a sideye that, unexpectedly, seemed more hurt than angry. With a jolt Guanta recalled that Bela had his hearing now-his sense of hearing wasn't canine level, but it could well be good enough.
Bela quickly looked away when Guanta tried to meet his gaze. Guanta looked away too, guilt gnawing at the edge of his consciousness. He gripped the Creepy Coupe's steering wheel harder, instinctively gnawing at his lip. He stopped when Bela's remaining upper fang pricked his lower lip.
"When will I learn to watch my mouth?" he groaned, just loud enough for his partner to be able to hear him. "I don't actually think he's-Bela's just-"
"Built opposite of you." Eagle flexed Karloff's huge hands and then quickly looked up at the sky, possibly to avoid any reflective surface. "I...know the feeling."
''I hate this,'' Guanta muttered, glaring at the start line like it had committed murder. ''I hate all of this.''
Eagle's shoulders slumped and he nodded mutely.
Guanta loosed a disgruntled sigh. He stared through the Coupe's rickety windshield as the starting horn finally sounded.
Bela felt much too tall. Guanta had always seemed built somewhat comically; his torso longer than his legs, with gangly arms and a overall twiggy stature. And now he was stuck trying to navigate in the tiger's odd form, a hybrid of bipedal and quadruped.
The instant he tried to take a step, he felt like the world was tilting.
Luckily for him, the Wrangler hadn't moved since Barnstorm had gone marching off. He inched toward it, then tripped on account of his unfamiliar legs and toppled belly first across the car's two front seats. He growled and scrambled across to the driver's side.
Karloff picked his way after him. He crawled slowly into the passenger side, clutching at the seat with Eagle's handlike foreclaws.
Bela only just noticed this, focused more on trying to settle into the Wrangler's driver's seat, then deciphering the car's different layout. The vehicle was, to his knowledge, essentially a battered old jeep that whose engine Guantanamo had essentially completely rebuilt, along with the entire undercarriage. Guanta had removed obstacles such as windows for the sake of aerodynamics; the exception being the windshield, which he had made retractable.
Bela uneasily looked around for a switch of some kind. His instinct being that if he wanted to maximize speed, he should put the windshield down...
Then again, was the race his priority right now?
Under normal circumstances, the answer would be that it was of upmost importance. Yet the situation he was in was as far from normal circumstance as it could be.
Even if he and Karloff somehow managed to come in at a decent spot with this unfamiliar car and setup, Bela felt as though their mixed up identities would muddle who had actually crossed the line fourth or above.
The displaced vampire was thoroughly distracted from this line of thought upon fully taking in the Wrangler's dashboard. Said dash comprised of a rather pedestrian setup of old climate controls and a ancient looking radio, all of it paneled with wood.
''Chillingly bleak.'' Karloff was eyeing the dash, his gaze unintentionally beady from having the eyes of a bird.
Bela sighed. ''I'm afraid when it comes to 'special help' during the race, Guanta relies on Eagle and all that gear on the top of the Wrangler ...''
Karloff visibly froze. ''I don't know how to use any of that.''
''You should probably go up there regardless. Just in case of imminent disaster, as exhilarating as such a event might be.'' Bela did not enjoy telling his racing partner this, but as much as he enjoyed the thrill of nearly meeting the abyss, he was not ready to end his existence.
Not that anyone had died in these races, and likely would not given they were in a professional racing league. But with a certain pair of cheaters around, one never knew.
Karloff shrugged unhappily, but nonetheless scrambled out onto the hood of the Wrangler, doing a awkward half jump, half flutter onto the storage rack that covered the jeep's entire roof.
Bela spent some time groping for the parking brake, finding it just in time to put it down before the horn calling them to the starting line sounded. The former vampire tentatively placed his new hands on the wheel. Bela winced at the sight-these hands were much larger and rougher than his own, and he couldn't help but be bothered by it. He felt like he was trapped in a skintight outfit that wasn't comfortable...but it was a suit made of skin and bone, and Bela had no choice but to wear it. He felt too warm, and the phantom itches he'd noticed after he'd woken up hadn't stopped.
Bela also felt dirty-as ashamed as he felt for thinking it, he couldn't help it. He knew it was likely this was a result of Guanta's often mussed coat and his incredibly causal dress.
Guanta wasn't completely filthy by any means, but the vampire was simply used to holding himself to a higher standard when it came to his appearance. Bela was also finding he had to contend with settling down in a position that was comfortable for his borrowed tail.
Not that it was a completely unfamiliar sensation, having one. But it had been years since Bela could even come close to drawing on his power-
Shaking his head and burying that line of thought, he fumbled through Guantanamo's vest for the battered jeep's keys.
Finding them, he moved to start the Wrangler, jumping slightly at the powerful roar the car's engine emitted. Then Bela hit his elbow on the door, resulting in a hissed curse in Romanian-Guanta's arms were much longer than he was used to. He felt stretched out, the tiger's long arms and overall build a far cry from his shorter, more barrel-esque build.
Then Bela slowly tried the accelerator, a slight surge of pleasure tinging his overall bad mood at how swiftly the battered green jeep responded. As he passed his own car, he winced when Guanta nearly careened into the Compact Pussycat. He saw Guanta scowl at his disapproving glance as he passed. But he felt the tiger shouldn't have expected anything less. Not only did he not want the Creepy Coupe to be damaged-at least not at the start of the race-but Guanta's action had looked novice and foolish. Bela didn't want his fellow racers thinking he was responsible for such a mistake.
He braked harder then necessary when it came to stopping the Wrangler at the starting line, forgetting about his shorter legs and unused to the high position of the modified pedals. He heard a squawk of protest from Karloff and muttered a hasty apology.
True to Guantanamo's fears, he did hear at least part of the former tiger's comment about his stature. Bela couldn't help the hurt expression as a result, though it was swiftly replaced by both anger and shame. Hadn't the vampire wanted to be taller and thinner at several points in his life, especially in his youth?
He had. But as a result of this whole situation, Bela didn't know how to feel about what he thought he'd heard- then his confusion and hurt began to morph into anger. He looked away when Guanta tried to meet his eyes.
Karloff awkwardly pushed himself up from where he had fallen when his teammate had slammed on the brake. He'd been tentatively trying to perch on the raised bar on the car's roof rack-the one Eagle frequented- only to be thrown off.
He responded to Bela's muttered apology with a squawk. Then he finally managed to position himself on the perch, instinctively settling into the pose he often saw Eagle take with all four feet holding the bar.
How easily the position came to Karloff was not nearly as concerning as the contents of the Tiger Cart's roof rack. It was a mass of things-hiking gear, what looked like a bullhook, pulleys, lengths of weighted chain and bolas-none of which Karloff had any idea what to do with. He thought he'd seen dynamite, a roll of thick netting, and several flares among the mass too. The only object Karloff thought he could use was the flamethrower, and only due to the frequent occasions on which he'd seen Eagle or Guanta use it.
Of course, Karloff had seen all of these things in action at one point or another. But he doubted that would ultimately help him.
He blew out a long sigh, poking at the yellow eagle feet that had replaced his own. Karloff flexed the toes on one, the hooked black claws gleaming in the light.
Karloff felt naked despite the bird's golden feathers- and disturbingly light and frail. He didn't even want to think about how Eagle's wings were supposed to work. Flying...he felt sick each time he thought of it-orcs were ground creatures by nature. They were never meant to fly under their own power.
Karloff's new feet tightened involuntarily on the bar he was sitting on. The trained Beastmaster normally wasn't a nervous wreck-but then, this wasn't a normal situation.
Then the pistol fired to start the race.
AN: I don't actually know if this will ever go anywhere, but I still wanted to post it. Mostly so it wouldn't go to waste; I'm a sucker for the freaky friday flip, and in writing form, one gains the unique opportunity to describe all the subtle things I would think someone would be feeling if they got shuffled into a different form.
while I have a vague idea of what I would want to happen if I did keep going with this, I'm rather bad at trying to be funny on purpose and if I continued this, I would want to add in races(including the one started at the end of this). Except I don't really have a lot of confidence I could write actual gags.
I did use some very minor elements from the reboot in here-like the vampire having a actual name and there being a actual promoter/manager in charge. That said, the reboot was a heavily flawed product. I'm not opposed to situational episodes but the reboot that indulged way too much in those, rather than eps focused on racing. It was also unpleasant to find half of the cast gone.
Theoretically speaking, if I'd been in charge of the reboot I'd have kept the full cast, alternated between situational eps and purely old school ones, and left out the meta humor. But that's just a theoretical of course.
anyway, given how niche this show's community is, I don't expect a lot of traffic on this story. If someone does happen to drop by though, I wouldn't mind a review.