TEAM FORTRESS 2 BELONGS TO VALVE
The mercenaries' job didn't always consist of shooting and throwing projectiles. There were times when they only needed to hold a position until Mann's lawyers did their job and appropriated those lands by some more or less legal trick. Once it was documented that that piece of barren land was his, their job was done and started planning the conquest by violent means of another useless lot. Blessed be those times of peace! They could rest from weeks of extenuating battle, recover from their wounds and do something pleasant which didn't require killing. The process could last for months, and it felt like paid vacations.
Everyone had their own pastimes. Scout's was baseball.
"And, with number 1, the star of the Red Sox! The magnificent, the devilishly handsome, the one and only Jeremy Morton!"
With his throat, he imitated the clamor of a crowd.
"Morton takes position," He kept on narrating with a commentator's voice, "in front of him, Johnny Assface, the undefeated pitcher of the NY Yankees. Thousands have tried, but no one's been able to hit his curveballs. Will Morton break the curse?" And replied in his own voice: "I can and I will!" Then, he yelled with a high-pitched, girly voice: "Oh, he's such a hunk! We love him!", and replied to himself in his real voice: "And I love you all, ladies!"
Scout grabbed his bat and faced no one.
"Morton and Assface look at each other into the eyes. Assface's intimidating, but Morton won't back down. Assface takes deep breath and, here it goes, his famous curveball! It's like a cannonball! But Morton bats, and—oh, crap!"
It seemed he had gotten a little too enthusiastic. The bat escaped from his hands and flew straight into that window over there, which led to the infirmary. After the glass breaking, he heard a racket coming from the inside, then Medic's yell.
"SCOUT!"
He tried to hide, pretend he was taking a nap in a corner, but Medic found him and painfully grabbed him by the ear.
"You ruined my latest experiment!" It seemed that the experiment consisted of a brain with teeth, which had escaped from its container and was now trying to eat his creator's brains. Ignoring the pain of it, Medic glared at Scout.
"Ouch, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Are you a two year-old?! Can't you play with your balls and bat somewhere where you can't bother others?! Come on, go away!"
"But—!"
"I said get out of here!" Medic roared, throwing the bat at his head, then going back to his laboratory, still with the brain monster gnawing at his head.
Scout stopped trying to apologize and picked his bat up from the ground.
"Alright! I'll leave! Gee!"
He was angry now. He covered his head with the hood of his sweatshirt with an aggressive gesture and wanted to hit something to let off some steam, but in that stupid place there was nothing, only God forsaken roads and power lines and tumbleweeds, so he swung his bat at invisible people in his way.
"Stupid kraut…A two-year old…He bothers everyone with his talking heads and his baboon uteruses but no one complains, 'cause he's the medic, sure…'Cause he's an old coot and I'm the youngest…And I'm not that young! Sniper's only a few years older than I am! Frankenbitch…AM I BOTHERING YOU HERE, TOO?! Don't worry, you ain't seeing me for the rest of the day! Or the week! Or the month!"
He walked. And walked. And walked. Even though he didn't have a direction, he supposed he could go to the nearest town and have some drinks and maybe do as he threatened and stay in a hostel for a night and see how they liked that. But soon he remembered that he had forgotten his wallet at the base and, without his driver license, no barman would believe he was an adult and serve him alcohol—it had happened to him before. Shit. If he couldn't drink alcohol, he would drink soda till his stomach exploded. And he would eat a nice bucket of chicken. Oh, but his money was in his wallet. Double shit. His frustration increased.
"When I break the skull of the guy who's trying to kill you, you're not complaining about the bat…! Pyro can set the couch on fire, Demo can test his explosives everywhere he wants, Soldier can fill the whole place with heads and blood and shit but I, of course, I can't, 'cause I'm the youngest…! Go to hell, all of you!"
He still made his way to town, just to distract himself and forget about the team for a while.
"It's not fair…!"
He swung his bat again, picturing he was bursting someone's rib cage, enemy and ally. It was cold outside and that helped him feel warm.
That way, he didn't realize that someone was observing and following him.
"No wonder he lives for those birds: they're the only ones who can stand him!"
That someone rubbed his hands and chuckled.
"Frigging…Deutsch-bag! Pfft, heheheh, that was a good one. Man, now I wish there was someone around to hear it…"
He stopped. Wait. There was someone indeed. He could now feel a presence behind him.
Okay, act cool.
"…Okay, I forgive—"
But it wasn't Medic, who was chasing him to tell him he was sorry, as he thought. Instead, he found an ominous shadow, an intimidating apparition.
Merasmus!
"Gah!" Scout gasped.
"I got you, mortal!" Merasmus triumphally declared and extended a hand towards him.
Scout tried to reach for his bat but found that he was completely frozen. He was incapable of moving an inch, as much as he tried. Merasmus approached him, chuckling. He seemed to get bigger with each step he took.
"Where are you going all alone?" The wizard mockingly asked him.
"Let me go, Merasmus! Urgh! I'm warning you: today I'm in a real bad mood!" Scout threatened him, struggling to move a finger.
"Where are your friends?" Merasmus kept on asking him like an adult addressing a small child.
"I need no one to kick your ass!" Though, truth be told, Scout was very, very scared and hoped that someone had really come to bring him back…
"One just tries to live in peace, escape from the chase of the Japanese mafia, steal some souls to summon an ancient circus god, and his immortal, moronic roommate and his equally moronic team beat him! Well, Merasmus is tired of it, and now that he's got you in his claws, you will be the first…!"
Oh-oh, he seemed to be talking seriously. Scout didn't stop struggling, even if he saw no results. If only he could run away!
"Six years of humiliation call for a humiliating death…I was eager to get my hands on you, little one. Hitting Merasmus' head with balls, breaking his knee caps and running away, like a cowardly rabbit."
The wizard stared at him, then an unsettling grin grew into his wrinkled face.
"Rabbit…"
Scout saw how his eyes glowed with a light he didn't like a little bit. He would have given everything at all to be able to move. He couldn't even feel his legs but he never stopped trying. He was so nervous he even contradicted himself and started pleading for help.
"Yes…Yes, that's it…It won't be a pleasant way of dying…"
"What the hell are you saying, dude?" Scout gasped. "MEDIIIIIIIIC!"
Merasmus showed him.
The young mercenary heard him mutter something in a language which didn't sound like any language he had heard before. The wizard started glowing with an intense green light. Scout finally felt back to his body and fell to the ground. Now that he was able to move, he tried to run. He tried but could only take one step. He stopped and embraced himself, feeling a crippling cramp.
The heat came along with it, first in his cheeks, then his ears, the fingers and finally his whole body; faintly at first, suffocating after a few seconds. Instead of running, all he could do now that he had control over his own body again was obeying the impulse of getting rid of his clothes. The sweatshirt, the tank top underneath, the pants, the sports shoes, the two pairs of thick socks he was wearing and even the briefs. He didn't even stop for a second to consider that he was giving that decrepit bastard a striptease. It was simply unbearable. Not even without his clothes and with that freezing cold was he able to get rid of that heat. It was as if his bones were melting from inside. It was driving him mad. It made him whine and had him on the verge of tears.
With the stomach ache and the heat, he didn't even notice that his body was itching. It was when he glanced at his arm that he let out a horrified scream. He had been waiting for hair to come out for years but not as much, and not so dense.
That was fur.
Merasmus laughed maniacally. Had he anticipated this, he would have made popcorn to sit and watch how the obnoxious man-child writhed, how his ears elongated, just like his body, which not only changed its proportions, but also became smaller; how a set of longer, paler, sensitive whiskers appeared around his mouth; how his spine arched, forcing him on fours and prolonged, creating a tail.
Scout lied on the ground curled up against himself. As suddenly as the horrible sensation came, it left, leaving him terribly dizzy. When he tried to stumble back up, after escaping the mess of clothes he was trapped in, he found he wasn't able to.
He looked up and found that Meramus did look like a giant now, bigger than he ever was, and shrunk in fear.
"Well, you are one less problem for Merasmus. Off I go!"
And, opening his arms, he was involved by a halo of green light and vanished.
Silence. Scout looked around with increasing nervousness. It had gotten dark, and in that place there were no lampposts. However, he didn't need more light than the moon's to see and feel his now furry self.
He had to face the facts: he was a rabbit. Merasmus had transformed him into a damned rabbit.
Shit.
Back in the base, the team had dinner, each one at the time they fancied, and spent the time before going to bed each of them in the way they pleased, not noticing that he was missing.