Ann Marie Tajuddin
As Admiral Albert Calavicci felt himself pushed from one realm into another, the first thing he was aware of was the distinct scent of cigarette smoke. An instant later, he felt it being inhaled into his lungs. He spit out the offending object in disgust. "Geez, just once can't I leap in with a quality cigar?" he muttered, wiping his mouth to erase the flavor. He stared at his hand in dismay. It had lipstick smudged on it. "Oh, _man_!" The irony of the statement dawned directly after. Looking down, he saw a pair of high heels, a short skirt, a tight-fitting top, the edges of curls around his shoulders, and... *Wait just a minute!* Al backed up mentally. *Granted it's been a while since I've seen my reflection, but I don't ever recall having a figure like...* Stumbling clumsily on the heels, he turned around the deserted alley, taking in his surroundings until his eyes rested upon a cracked mirror at just below eye-level. He swung his purse- *Oh, not a _purse_!* -around as he turned to look into it. A rather bad wig sat on top of his head and, in addition to some extreme make-up on a definitely male face, gaudy earrings hung, swaying gently and brushing his cheeks. "Great," he groaned. "Don't tell me I'm a-" "Jake!" came a crackly voice. Al glanced around himself. "They're on their way out - I'm going over the roof. Do you have them, partner?" the voice said again and he glanced down into his - the purse. "Jake, you got them? Jake?!" A sharp click reached Al's ears. It was a sound he knew very well. Too well. He looked up to see two men staring at him as if waiting for him to make the first move. *Gun. I've got to have a gun here somewhere.* Al started to rummage past the walkie talkie desperately, hoping to close in on something he could use. Seeing he was momentarily helpless, the two guys raised their guns and turned to each other. "Narc," they said together. In an instant, Al knew he was in trouble.
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