Thanx for the reviews everybody, don't worry, wasn't offended by any. And thanks also for reading, that's what makes it all worth while *big cheesy grin*
The following day it was decided that Milliardo's gunshot shoulder had healed enough that he could be taken off the painkillers. He remembered very little of the days before while on the drugs, and the whole company got to draw straws to tell him what he had gotten himself into. On unlucky clerk, got the task. It took it with quite a bit of bravery, however, and his friends promised to have 'died like a man' engraved on his tombstone.
As expected, the lightening count was furious, the shouts could be heard on the other side of the compound. The young clerk would someday tell the tale to his children.
* * * * *
"I refuse," Miliardo growled dangerously. He had finally tracked down Captain Orson who was apparently in charge of this whole crazy scheme, and was now putting his foot down. "I'd rather be shot."
"You were shot," the captain said calmly. Motioning towards his shoulder. "And I'm afraid we can't risk it again."
"Captain, forgive me for sounding arrogant, but I do have a knack for staying alive."
"Oh come now Milliard, just because you survived one unsurvivable explosion, which, by the way, I'm still waiting to hear the story on how you managed that, does not make you indestructible."
"So what does it make me."
"Lucky. And luck is nothing you can count on twice. I'm sorry dear boy, but you're stuck in this, you signed a contract."
"And if I refuse?"
"You can't refuse, it's a contract. Surely you're a man of your word."
"I wasn't lucid when I signed it, it doesn't count!" Miliardo was almost shouting at this point.
"Oh, but I'm afraid I must be a bit dishonest at this point, and understand its for your own good, and dispute you on that. I have a witness who will say you were completely of sound mind." Milliardo desperately wished he could remember who had been in the room with the captain and kill whoever it was. No more witness. "Oh don't worry, it'll only be for a short time, and nobody will ever know."
"I'll know, and that's enough."
"Milliardo, I'm going to tell you something my first wife told me-'there are plenty of great men, but the greatest of them are women'."
Milliardo thought Wu-Fei might be willing to argue that point. "Why am I not convinced. It wouldn't work, do I look like a girl to you?"
"Well, true you're a bit taller and, uh, buffer than the average girl, but you could blame that and your deep voice on a hormone imbalance, you know, too much testosterone in your system or something. But I gotta tell you something, those long silky platinum locks don't exactly go against our plan, if you know what I mean."
He wanted to argue, but deep down inside, he knew he had been backed into a corner, and the captain knew it too. Damn he should have gotten a normal haircut. For a long moment they just stared at each other. "You tell me the second you catch the bastard."
The captain smiled. "Of course."
Milliardo started to leave the room, but then paused. "You know, I wouldn't need an assassin to kill you."
The captain only smiled. "I'm thinking a nice pink ribbon and knee socks for your first day, what do you think…Millie?" The captain would never know how close he came to death at that point, though he would sport the black eye almost a week.
That night, before going to bed, Milliardo fixed himself a VERY strong drink, and had a toast to the end of his manhood as he knew it.
* * * * *
The following day was spent on a makeover, during which Milliardo got waxed, primped, polished, measured, and manicured. There was some argument on how he ought to where his hair. Captain Orson, still bitter about the black eye, suggested up in pink ribbons, and got a shiner for his suggestion. Noin thought a French braid, and the hair stylist thought maybe a ponytail. Ultimately it was decided down with a headband. A talented designer, in that one day, made for him an array of skirts, dresses, pants, shirts and shoes all designed to make him a little more feminine looking. He had to have walking lessons (in high heels), and be coached on how to think like a girl. He was also given a quick lesson on how to apply makeup, and Milliardo found himself to be quite talented in picking out his own natural colors.
And on more than one occasion, he wished he were still on drugs and this were all one elaborate hallucination. But all in all, hallucination or not, he still found himself, wearing a casual blue dress, walking into the Northern Academy great hall for registration day.
The following day it was decided that Milliardo's gunshot shoulder had healed enough that he could be taken off the painkillers. He remembered very little of the days before while on the drugs, and the whole company got to draw straws to tell him what he had gotten himself into. On unlucky clerk, got the task. It took it with quite a bit of bravery, however, and his friends promised to have 'died like a man' engraved on his tombstone.
As expected, the lightening count was furious, the shouts could be heard on the other side of the compound. The young clerk would someday tell the tale to his children.
* * * * *
"I refuse," Miliardo growled dangerously. He had finally tracked down Captain Orson who was apparently in charge of this whole crazy scheme, and was now putting his foot down. "I'd rather be shot."
"You were shot," the captain said calmly. Motioning towards his shoulder. "And I'm afraid we can't risk it again."
"Captain, forgive me for sounding arrogant, but I do have a knack for staying alive."
"Oh come now Milliard, just because you survived one unsurvivable explosion, which, by the way, I'm still waiting to hear the story on how you managed that, does not make you indestructible."
"So what does it make me."
"Lucky. And luck is nothing you can count on twice. I'm sorry dear boy, but you're stuck in this, you signed a contract."
"And if I refuse?"
"You can't refuse, it's a contract. Surely you're a man of your word."
"I wasn't lucid when I signed it, it doesn't count!" Miliardo was almost shouting at this point.
"Oh, but I'm afraid I must be a bit dishonest at this point, and understand its for your own good, and dispute you on that. I have a witness who will say you were completely of sound mind." Milliardo desperately wished he could remember who had been in the room with the captain and kill whoever it was. No more witness. "Oh don't worry, it'll only be for a short time, and nobody will ever know."
"I'll know, and that's enough."
"Milliardo, I'm going to tell you something my first wife told me-'there are plenty of great men, but the greatest of them are women'."
Milliardo thought Wu-Fei might be willing to argue that point. "Why am I not convinced. It wouldn't work, do I look like a girl to you?"
"Well, true you're a bit taller and, uh, buffer than the average girl, but you could blame that and your deep voice on a hormone imbalance, you know, too much testosterone in your system or something. But I gotta tell you something, those long silky platinum locks don't exactly go against our plan, if you know what I mean."
He wanted to argue, but deep down inside, he knew he had been backed into a corner, and the captain knew it too. Damn he should have gotten a normal haircut. For a long moment they just stared at each other. "You tell me the second you catch the bastard."
The captain smiled. "Of course."
Milliardo started to leave the room, but then paused. "You know, I wouldn't need an assassin to kill you."
The captain only smiled. "I'm thinking a nice pink ribbon and knee socks for your first day, what do you think…Millie?" The captain would never know how close he came to death at that point, though he would sport the black eye almost a week.
That night, before going to bed, Milliardo fixed himself a VERY strong drink, and had a toast to the end of his manhood as he knew it.
* * * * *
The following day was spent on a makeover, during which Milliardo got waxed, primped, polished, measured, and manicured. There was some argument on how he ought to where his hair. Captain Orson, still bitter about the black eye, suggested up in pink ribbons, and got a shiner for his suggestion. Noin thought a French braid, and the hair stylist thought maybe a ponytail. Ultimately it was decided down with a headband. A talented designer, in that one day, made for him an array of skirts, dresses, pants, shirts and shoes all designed to make him a little more feminine looking. He had to have walking lessons (in high heels), and be coached on how to think like a girl. He was also given a quick lesson on how to apply makeup, and Milliardo found himself to be quite talented in picking out his own natural colors.
And on more than one occasion, he wished he were still on drugs and this were all one elaborate hallucination. But all in all, hallucination or not, he still found himself, wearing a casual blue dress, walking into the Northern Academy great hall for registration day.