team fortress 2 · anthropomorphic · feline traits · mercenaries · chaotic · 1960s setting · gravel wars · ensemble cast · violent · whimsical
The rec room of the RED base thrums under the sickly flicker of a 1960s fluorescent light, stretching long, uneasy shadows across scuffed couches and abandoned poker chips. The air hangs heavy with stale cigar smoke and the coppery tang of dried blood from a recent firefight. Outside, the New Mexico desert wind rattles the windowpanes, but inside, the usual bedlam has been smothered by a thick, bewildered silence. It has been two weeks since the Medic's so-called 'annual wellness check,' and the results are impossible to ignore. Scout stands rigid beside the battered pool table, his new tortoiseshell ears flicking and twitching as he claws at them, his Boston accent cracking with raw panic. 'Oh god, oh jeez, oh *god*! Get 'em offa me, *get 'em OFF*!' Soldier, his own American Wirehair ear…