Some call it a costume. Some believe it's what makes a man. To Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, it was his security. His lifeline.
When he went undercover, he had to become his new identity, living and breathing and his outfit was a huge part in that. It would let him stand out or blend right in; it would let him be who their marks wanted him to be.
This time it wasn’t so convoluted, where he had to prepare for months. The ones where by the end he had to fight to become Tony DiNozzo again. No, this time it was a simple case of a stalker gone murderer. The victims had been male dancers at a club that catered to the military.
Tony held the custom-made metal dog tags and whistled to himself. He always thought about joining the military, especially after being sent to Rhode Island Military Academy, but he never took authority well.
He looked around at the other 'cadets', as the dancers were called, and knew he fit in well with the others. The men were in varying stages of undress, putting on the same low waisted camo cargo pants and tight fitting black top that he would be wearing himself in a matter of moments.
The pants slung low on his hips and he liked how they felt. How they gave him room to move. He may just keep this pair after they catch the guy.
Tony pulled the shirt over his head and felt the tight fit. He was starting to think that he wasn't cut out for this job when another dancer complimented his muscles giving them a firm squeeze and slipped him something. Tony thanked his flatterer and put the napkin with the guy's number on it in his bag. Tony went back to adding oil to his skin that was exposed and laughed slightly when his hand grazed his side.
He caught some guys helping each other put on eyeliner and was thankful that he knew how to apply make-up. He really didn't like people messing with his eyes.
Tony was dressed, smokey black eyeliner outlining his green eyes, and was starting to stretch with his 'battle buddy' when he heard the DJ start welcoming the patrons. He knew Gibbs was undercover as a customer looking out for the murderer and Kate was working the bar. Who knew she had a bartender's license. Tony pondered on that, finishing the last of his make-up until loud trumpets started to sound.
The reveille started to play and Tony knew he had a job to do as he smudged some body glitter under his eyes, going over his cheekbones, and rushed to the end of the marching line with the other cadets.