Post by Vash Alois Zwingli on May 8, 2014 0:43:43 GMT -8
CRASHING IN AND breaking you to bits |
He really had no clue how they talked him into it. He was repeatedly told that he was the best shooter in the division and perhaps in the run to be the best in the organization. They were keen in their flatteries, really attempting to build up his ego. Not that he needed flattery, given the confidence he seemed to emanate. It took some negotiating (and arguing on Vash's part, convincing on their part), complaints about the mistreatment of agents (specifically Vash's mistreatment), and conceding to bonuses and raises in the event he completed the mission, double if he did it well enough. He intends to do the mission very well.
Normally, he never had objections with doing assignments unless he believed the reward was too low. The MI6 has pushed him through various dangerous, morally-questionable situations, ranging from posing as doppelgangers for possible assassination targets (sometimes the assassin really attempted), to swimming in the cold, unmerciful Thames, to scaling buildings that really weren't built for scaling, to posing as a brothel customer. MI6 has used him as unmercifully as the River Thames. They've never humiliated him to such a degree though.
He fully understood his body's physique was not the most imposing, his ability to intimidate coming from the manner he carried himself, the coldness of the winter in his eyes, and his handling of various artillery. Beyond that, he was far from imposing. He was somewhat shorter compared to other male agents (he was most certainly shorter than Matthias) and even had a bit of a slim figure. He did have muscles from constant exercising at MI6's training centres and his daily shooting sessions, plus his long runs through London. He had a nice build, firm but not exactly the six pack you'd typically associate with "sexy". He does not have a six-pack, nor big muscles in his arms. But his arms are toned, and his torso looks lean, even with how thin he is. He most certainly wasn't building himself up like a trainer but... if properly attired, he could actually... pass off for a woman. Given that he spoke more kindly to women (and got along with them much better than he got along with men), the logic was he was right for the job in mind. Who would be better?
AN ACTUAL WOMAN WHO COULD SHOOT. He had argued that, though it seemed the counterargument was that he was a much better shot and the ladies were pretty darn occupied at the moment (not that they had many in the first place).
"Plus, it would give you a chance to use your skills in one of the most unique assignments we have ever come across," one of the assignment briefers had said.
"Shut up."
The other argument was that he had the best chemistry with his usual partner, Donald Finn O'Neill-Kirkland. Whatever the hell that meant. If Donald and Vash (with such distinctly different and bickering personalities) had the "best partner chemistry of the field agent division," MI6 was pretty damn screwed. Donald and Vash probably wouldn't have worked together right off the bat if MI6 hadn't paired them up. What Vash had in language abilities and fighting ability, Donald made up in charisma.
After raising his pay a decimal point to the right, he grudgingly accepted the assignment. He had walked into the MI6's dressing room with a heart full of dread, and even still, he found himself dreading every moment. He saw, hung in a shelf labelled with his name, was the outfit for the assignment: a black Chanel dress, a straples C-Cup bra (with what seemed to be MI6's temporary breast technology), a pair of black lacy pantyhose to match the bra, lacy underwear (WHY) and garter belt. Vash let out an exasperated groan.
"I will be handling your hair and make-up," the disguise specialist said.
"Of course," he muttered, hastily taking the fashionable disguise and stalking into the changing room.
When he looked back in the mirror, he couldn't help but notice how... how much he looked like LIli with the hair extensions and his features softened by the make-up. With the dress and pantyhose hugging and emphasizing curves in the right places, the realism of the cosmetic breasts, and the excellence of the make-up artist," he looked like a classy socialite who was a regular attendant of soirees at the Cadogen Hotel.
"I will be working on Agent O'Neill's facial hair in the next room. Please wait here until I fetch you to equip you and give you information," the specialist said.
This better be worth the pay.
Normally, he never had objections with doing assignments unless he believed the reward was too low. The MI6 has pushed him through various dangerous, morally-questionable situations, ranging from posing as doppelgangers for possible assassination targets (sometimes the assassin really attempted), to swimming in the cold, unmerciful Thames, to scaling buildings that really weren't built for scaling, to posing as a brothel customer. MI6 has used him as unmercifully as the River Thames. They've never humiliated him to such a degree though.
He fully understood his body's physique was not the most imposing, his ability to intimidate coming from the manner he carried himself, the coldness of the winter in his eyes, and his handling of various artillery. Beyond that, he was far from imposing. He was somewhat shorter compared to other male agents (he was most certainly shorter than Matthias) and even had a bit of a slim figure. He did have muscles from constant exercising at MI6's training centres and his daily shooting sessions, plus his long runs through London. He had a nice build, firm but not exactly the six pack you'd typically associate with "sexy". He does not have a six-pack, nor big muscles in his arms. But his arms are toned, and his torso looks lean, even with how thin he is. He most certainly wasn't building himself up like a trainer but... if properly attired, he could actually... pass off for a woman. Given that he spoke more kindly to women (and got along with them much better than he got along with men), the logic was he was right for the job in mind. Who would be better?
AN ACTUAL WOMAN WHO COULD SHOOT. He had argued that, though it seemed the counterargument was that he was a much better shot and the ladies were pretty darn occupied at the moment (not that they had many in the first place).
"Plus, it would give you a chance to use your skills in one of the most unique assignments we have ever come across," one of the assignment briefers had said.
"Shut up."
The other argument was that he had the best chemistry with his usual partner, Donald Finn O'Neill-Kirkland. Whatever the hell that meant. If Donald and Vash (with such distinctly different and bickering personalities) had the "best partner chemistry of the field agent division," MI6 was pretty damn screwed. Donald and Vash probably wouldn't have worked together right off the bat if MI6 hadn't paired them up. What Vash had in language abilities and fighting ability, Donald made up in charisma.
After raising his pay a decimal point to the right, he grudgingly accepted the assignment. He had walked into the MI6's dressing room with a heart full of dread, and even still, he found himself dreading every moment. He saw, hung in a shelf labelled with his name, was the outfit for the assignment: a black Chanel dress, a straples C-Cup bra (with what seemed to be MI6's temporary breast technology), a pair of black lacy pantyhose to match the bra, lacy underwear (WHY) and garter belt. Vash let out an exasperated groan.
"I will be handling your hair and make-up," the disguise specialist said.
"Of course," he muttered, hastily taking the fashionable disguise and stalking into the changing room.
---
Vash surprisingly had no trouble with walking in the heels, perhaps due to his usually rigid, strict upright posture. He dared not complain at any rate. He walked to he disguise specialist's station and sat himself down in front of the mirror. He began to contemplate whether such humiliation was worth the pay he accepted. Probably.When he looked back in the mirror, he couldn't help but notice how... how much he looked like LIli with the hair extensions and his features softened by the make-up. With the dress and pantyhose hugging and emphasizing curves in the right places, the realism of the cosmetic breasts, and the excellence of the make-up artist," he looked like a classy socialite who was a regular attendant of soirees at the Cadogen Hotel.
"I will be working on Agent O'Neill's facial hair in the next room. Please wait here until I fetch you to equip you and give you information," the specialist said.
This better be worth the pay.
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