Chapter IX: Miniskirts, Pervert?
Came his words echoing in every male being's head. Miniskirts. Miniskirts. MINISKIRTS!
"Woohohhhhooooooooo!"
"Fuhrer! Fuhrer! Fuhrer!"
There came large applause for him. Yes! They had understood him! Men are still men after all! A lot of men wolf-whistled at his new 'law' reinforcement. Women on the other hand were glaring daggers at him especially Hawkeye and Armstrong (who were strongly against the idea of being 'fashionable' military women).
One-by-one the women are being handed by their 'respective uniforms'. Heck! Armstrong's hand was on her sword! This is the time to 'say goodbye to your head Fuhrer' is probably what's running in her head. He immediately ordered them to wear those 'horrific clothing' (according to none-other than Hawkeye and Armstrong of course). In a moment all of the female personnel's were out of sight.
Thud!
Everyone drew their heads to where the noise came from. Oh it was just a nose bleeding Havoc who was now lying on the ground clutching his cigarette tightly! Nothing serious at all. But that's when they realize something that caught their very eyes. Havoc was staring at a side with eyes as big as a *tarsier. That cause them (as in all men) to follow his gaze. Dumb founded as they were. Thus cause a ruckus at the area. Women on tight showy uniforms + half normal half perverted men = blood spill on their noses.
It caught them off-guard. Who wouldn't? I mean look at that women on skirts, MINISKIRTS! This is a dream come true- no heaven in earth!
Armstrong was swearing something Mustang would know a mantra not to kill him after this. Hell! She was scary when in her normal self- but this is hell of a scarier seeing her, as in Major-General Olivier Mira Armstrong in a Miniskirt! A skirt on her could make Mustang die of a heart attack, but to be on a miniskirt is something enough to bring down the whole fortress of Briggs!
Catalina sure likes this. Why? Simple. Because now she could get as many men to stare at her body. The problem is that she doesn't now that they are disrespecting her. Heck! Who cares? At least she gets what she wants.
Ross… Hmmm. She seems a bit shy? Oh that was probably because Brosh was staring at her, mind you the drool from his mouth.
Hawkeye, the solid miniskirt HATER. Hmmm. Now its Mustang's turn to become pale. Why wouldn't he? Hawkeye's gun is fully loaded, as always. 'B-b-but she looks so amazing!' Mustang thought.
"That's all for now, if there's a new law to be implemented you would immediately be informed by your CO's."
He said leaving behind the crowd of soldiers with Hawkeye following closely behind.
Applause followed suit.
They walked in relative silence to their new office. The kind of silence that is not awkward, instead comforting. Being by each other's side like this brings back the olden times.
They slowly entered the office. Hawkeye opened it for him being the lower ranking officer she was. The moment the door was shut close Mustang ran behind his absurdly large desk and coward in fear. Hawkeye only quirked an eyebrow in his actions, totally amused by the Fuhrer's reaction.
"D-d-don't shoot me!" Mustang stammered at his words while raising both of his hands in the air to signify surrender.
*Sigh
"W-w-what!"
"You're such a moron you know." She stated calmly whilst reaching her silver gun.
"D-d-don't shoot me! Please! I need some reward here you know!"
"This gun you gave me totally has use."
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
A shape was formed behind Mustang's back. He sweat dropped.
"Next time you do something like that I AM NOT going to miss! Do you understand, SIR? She said emphasizing the words 'sir' and 'I am not'.
"Y-y-yes Ma'am!"
"I'll let this slide for now, since you've said that you needed a reward for your 'hard' work. Though if you make our clothes any lesser you could say goodbye to your throne and to your miniskirts."
"Y-yes Ma'am!" he said still trembling.
"Good! Now these papers need to be signed by the end of the day." She said putting what seemed twice of his former paperwork. If Mustang hated something about his job it was the paperwork. ALWAYS the paperwork, well for him it doesn't seem to end. To be honest, it don't, especially now that he's the Fuhrer.
Authors Notes:
Tarsier: Any of several small nocturnal arboreal primates of the genus Tarsius, of the East Indies and the Philippines, having large round eyes, a long tail, and long fingers and toes tipped with soft disk like pads.
