4th TG War: What is Most Important

By: D. R. Nyan-chan

Based on an RP with


John “Shelly” Fletcher sighed and slumped into the comfiest chair he could find; he was exhausted and somewhat disgusted by recent events and actions.  “What was Central thinking?” he asked himself.  “That was obviously crossing the line.  He’s completely missing the whole point of this war.”

“I agree.”  Volk stepped in and plopped onto a nearby couch before grooming his furry arms.  “Central went way too far.  I’d love to weld another one of those collars back onto him.  He’s too cruel to deserve freedom.”

“At least I was able to get all that juice out of Ani,” John said.  “It was a tough two hours and she was still blue, but that outfit I loaned her at least allowed her to walk around in public.  Xe seemed to bounce back pretty quickly after that.”

Volk raised an eyebrow in confusion.  “Xe?”

“Genderless pronouns,” John said.  “They’re something a certain twit I’ve worked with created for xiself and I tend to use them out of habit at times.”

“Worse than Central?”

John leaned his chair back and sighed.  “Can be worse in xer own way, far better as well.  I wouldn’t be surprised if that one was watching us right now while munching popcorn.  Still, Central’s more of a concern in my mind, though it’s not just him.”

Volk curiously looked up.  John tilted his head back, stared at the ceiling, and said, “Central seems to either have forgotten or is completely oblivious to a key point about the TG War as have others.”

Volk closely inspected his claws for a moment before facing John and asking, “And what point is that?”

“Aren’t TG Wars first and foremost supposed to be fun?”

Volk frowned and contemplated something.  “No argument there.  This war has too much bitterness and the upscaling is getting ridiculous.  Perhaps we can do something to lighten the mood?”

John sat straight up for a moment.  As he scribbled something down onto some scratch paper, he said, “How about we start by searching through the armory?  There’s quite a variety of items there now and we need to scour it for Spearmint knockoffs from time to time anyway.”

“Again?”  Volk let out a low growl.  “Why don’t we just sell everything and have my suppliers get us a fresh batch?  I’d rather not have to deal with that maniac and his mindless mullet melody drivel again.”

John shook his head.  “Spearmint tech is notorious for randomly exploding.  I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if we sold it.  However, they’re less likely to bother slipping ‘free samples’ in if we do frequent checks.”

Volk let out a sigh.  “Fair enough.  I wish we could just capture one of them and have them disarm everything, though.”

“They wouldn’t know how.  Spearmint’s too random,” John said.  “However, I’ve dealt with them long enough to know what to look for.  We should be fine as long as we have a prodding stick.  Shall we hop to it, after I finish this note?” he asked.  “Central may want to help us as well.”

“Why?”

John showed Volk what he had written:

Dear Central,

After your recent actions, Volk and I have decided to start a little something of our own.  We'll be cleaning out the armory if you need us.  I’ll also be showing off the new glyphs I happened across.

-John 'Shelly' Fletcher"

“That’s perfect.”  Volk let out a little snicker.  A little quirk in both the paper and John’s handwriting had made the word “glyphs” appear to be “glyphix,” something that Central had been searching for for quite a while.  “All that’s left is to come up with something on par with his blueberry stunt.”

John shook his head.  “We do that and the bitterness will just escalate.  It would be better to show him exactly what he’s missing.  Regardless, we need to first see what we have on hand.”

When the two entered the armory, Volk was surprised to see that everything was already spotless and well organized.  In addition, a plethora of items were on display ranging from rubber duckies to staplers.  Many of the items were either from the local TG shop or supposedly procured by John during his travels after everyone split up.

Volk looked around in bewilderment.  “So…what is there to clean?  Everything already seems in order.”

“Not quite,” John said.  He pulled a glittery pink stick and waved it around.  “Not all the effects are cataloged and not everything is activated the same way.”

“And what’s that supposed to be for?” Volk asked.  “Is that the prodding stick we’ll be using?”

John took another look at the pretty rod in his hand.  “Hmm, that’s odd.  Why is it shining like that?”  Suddenly, a strawberry-colored beam shot out of the end and hit Volk squarely in the chest.  Once the ensuing blinding light died down, a slight smile escaped John’s mouth.  Volk had been turned into a female anthro kitsune with three bushy tails, reddish brown fur, strawberry lipstick, and a hot pink cheerleader uniform that was a little on the skimpy side.  John nervously tried to put the stick back, but ended up spilling half of them onto the floor.  He then bashfully said, “Sorry, about that.”

Volk ruffled her pompoms in contempt and danced around as if she was stuck in the middle of a cheer and unable to break character.  “That’s not nice!  Not okay!  Why’d you do that, anyway?  GOOOOO Attack Dogs!”  She continued to dance around as she futilely tried to force her smile into a frown.  At the very least, her miniskirt had been designed with her gleefully swishing tails in mind.  “We’re not the losers of the war!  We will show our foes the door!  Attack Dogs!  Attack Dogs!  YAAAY!”

As Volk continued her forced cheer, her foot banged against a nearby rack, causing it and several others to fall.  A TG grenade then dropped at her feet.  As Volk instinctively adjusted her miniskirt, she somehow managed to pick up the grenade.  With a genuine chuckle, she cheered, “I’ve got something!  Yes I do!  And I’m using it on you!  GOOO payback!”

John immediately did a backstep, knocking over a few more racks.  “Now Volk, it wasn’t on purpose.  I’m sure there’s something else here that can help.  Some of these go both ways.”  Volk started twirling around while fingering the pin.  “Volk, y-you really don’t want to do this.  Prune juice!  We haven’t tried prune juice, yet.”

Volk paid him no mind and quickly tossed the projectile.  When the explosion cleared, Shelly “John” Fletcher was wearing a tasseled one-piece black dress that showed off quite a bit of her legs along with a matching feather boa, heels, and pantyhose.  Volk literally jumped around joyfully and sang out, “G-I-R-L!  Guess who’s now also a girl?  You’re pretty!  Yay, yay, you’re pretty!”

Shelly coughed a few times as she started to dance an involuntary jig.  “Oh, so it’s going to be like that, huh?” she said.  As her arms flailed about, Shelly made several attempts to grab something to retaliate with, but she only knocked things over, causing Volk to cheer and chuckle some more.

Finally, Shelly managed to grab a comb and fling it into Volk’s forehead.  As Volk grabbed the seemingly harmless piece of plastic, she changed into a teenage male version of her original self.  However, his hair was now gelled up into a boisterous pompadour and his outfit had changed into a white shirt, jeans, and black suede jacket.  Volk lifted his new shades up and ran the comb through his hair as a toothpick formed in his mouth.  “It seems I’ve become the coolest cat on the block.  No, make that the coolest dog.”

As Volk combed his hair once again, his elbow knocked against several TG beam weapons, one of which misfired straight into Shelly.  John then found himself in a hoodie, sunglasses, and jeans.  “I’m vegan!” he shouted.  “So you really want a fight?  Bring it on.  Did I mention I’m vegan?”  John quickly tossed a box of birthday candles at Volk, which opened on impact, changing him into a juvenile lamia with red hair, green scales, an adorable black bow, and a Japanese sailor fuku designed to fit her serpentine body.

“B-baka!” she shouted out.  “That’s not fair.  Wh-why did you do that?”  Volk crossed her arms in a pout as her tail swatted another rack over, de-pinning another TG grenade in the process and flinging it straight at John.

In no time at all, Shelly leapt out of the smoke and brandished a pair of flintlock pistols.  She now wore a literal stovepipe hat, thigh-high stockings, black heeled boots, and a steampunk dress with a very tight corset.  “You don’t have to toss a wobbler, Dearie,” she said before grabbing a nearby blunderbuss, filling it with a strange powder, and shooting it in Volk’s face.

Volk gasped and wheezed as her newest transformation took hold; he was now an anthro gecko with thick glasses and a pocket protector.  As he involuntarily flexed his arms, Volk strangely tried to bite himself, eventually succeeding and turning back to normal.  He then grabbed a nearby stick-like object and whacked Shelly’s stovepipe with it.  The stick then started to glow, revealing itself to be a flute.  Shelly quickly transformed into a male nekomimi with tiger stripes and a red and gold marching band uniform.  Volk couldn’t help laughing before saying, “Ten hut!  Forward march!”

John certainly did start marching.  However, he quickly glanced at his instrument and said, “This isn’t mine!”  Though he struggled to do so, John tossed the flute away and grabbed a different one before he started playing.  The haunting melody made Volk strangely dizzy.  As the room spun and enlarged around him, Volk rapidly regressed into the form of an infant girl with bunny ears, a pink pacifier, and an adorable cotton-like tail peeking out of her pink footie pajamas.  She glared at John and grumbled; she never had a fondness for being small.

After what seemed like an eternity of struggling, Volk was able to get the pacifier out of her mouth and say, “Wet’s stop dis before one of us becomes a wamppost or a toiwet.”  Just before the pacifier lodged itself back in her mouth, Volk bit into her own arm as hard as she could with her tiny teeth.  Though the pajamas grew with her, Volk was at least back to his old self.

The two glared at each other for several seconds, but then John fell to his knees, bursting with laughter; Volk soon followed suit.  After gasping for air, John said, “Okay, that last bit was just unfair.  Still, this was fun, wasn’t it?”  He then pulled out his glyphic pistol and shot himself in the head, changing his own form back to normal.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Volk said.  “No pressure to win, no grudges, just some fun mayhem.  My teeth marks aren’t a free pass, though.  I have to bite really deep to keep it from healing back before the effect kicks in, but that strange gun of yours looks absolutely painless by comparison.”

“Most of the transformation and curative rounds are painless,” John said.  “Spells are more my forte, though.”

Volk shook his head and smiled.  “Tell you what, since that got rid of a lot of pent up stress, I’ll give you a freebie.  Hit me with whatever and I’ll just keep that for the rest of the day.”

*clang*

*clang*

A small fire extinguisher finally fell from one of the many overturned armory racks and rolled over to Volk.  Just as he picked it up, the cylinder burst open in his face, releasing the white smoke within.  Once the coughing Volk was able to see again, her eyes widened upon seeing her fuchsia-colored skin.  In addition, her hair and multiple fox tails seemed like they were composed of a like-colored flame.  Volk floated around a bit as she examined the tattered miko garb that she now wore.

Meanwhile, John burst into laughter once again and said, “Okay, now that one really was an accident.”

Volk glanced at her hands and giggled.  “I think this is an ethereal form.”  She immediately tried going straight through John.  After succeeding, she said, “This could be fun to experiment with further.”

“So when was the last time you enjoyed yourself this much?” John asked.

Volk flitted around for a bit and stroked her ethereal tails.  “The start?  I’m really not sure.  It’s always been ‘fight for this’ or ‘be cannon fodder for that,’ you know?”

“That’s a recipe for burnout,” John said.  “TFTG can also be downtime, something to have fun with.  Perhaps we should spread that spirit around.  No pun intended, of course.”

Volk happily twirled upside down.  “You know, I’d like to keep this one as an option.  It could come in handy.”

“I can probably arrange something.”

“Hey!” Central walked into view with a perplexed look in his eyes.  “What is all this?  John, where’s that glyphix you mentioned?”

John and Volk looked at each other and smiled.  John then quickly pulled out a large tome and hit Central with a powerful stored spell before he could even react.  As Central turned into a kitty girl in a pretty maid uniform, John aimed with his glyphic pistol and shot Central’s arm.  The bullet quickly changed into a metallic wristband that locked Central in her current form until the three-hour countdown indicated on the included display ran its course.

The two then said to Central, “Clean up this mess!” and walked out before she could even mew another word.

Central stared at the feather duster that used to be her cane.  She wanted to get those two back for what they did, but the armory looked awfully messy…