Hidden Agenda(Private RP)

[Frisk E. Coyote]

An ominous black helicopter soared toward the coldest, most turbulent part of the Arctic. The pilot couldn't help but chance a look back at the sole passenger, and he was taking one every now and then. She had walked up to him at the Russian Antarctic Experimental Aeronautics Base, thrust a briefcase full of American dollars at him, and gave him two conditions; take her from point A to point B, and no questions. Her Russian was superb. It was impossible to not be suspicious, but the pay was good.

But up ahead was a whiteout, and her instructions were to fly straight. He had to say something. There was no way the helicopter would survive a storm a like that.

["Excuse me, Miss?"] The pilo asked in his Russian Dialect, turning to face her. She had her arms folded behind her head, which was bowed in a way that her pointy, wide-brimmed hat (which reminded him so much of the modern depictions of Baba Yaga, a witch in the fairy tales his grand mama used to tell him.) obscured a good portion of her face. She had her legs crossed and her feet up on the table the researches usually used to prop their records against to write on. Her rather revealing outfit took his mind off what he was going to say and he ended up asking another question instead. ["Aren't you cold?"]

"Nyet." She replied rather coldly, not even looking up. ["We agreed there would be no questions. That counts as two."]

The pilot shook his head clear. ["I'm sorry, I meant to tell you that there is a sudden whiteout the base did not predict. We have to go back."]

["No. Keep going."]

["But miss, the whiteout-"]

["-Will not be a problem. We'll be fine."] The strange woman's tone told him that the conversation was over, and she raised her head slightly. ["Trust me."]

Her face was obscured by the shadow of her wide-brimmed hat, but he made out the color of her hair- it was purple, or pink. It then occurred to him that one of her eyes were visible, or at least, her bright red irises were. They were a sharp contrast to the shadows dancing on her face, it was almost as if it was glowing. It was then that he realized that he loved her more than anything in the world, and turning around, flew the helicopter toward the whiteout. He'd do anything for her!

The woman bowed her head once more as the helicopter disappeared into the snowstorm, strangely unhindered by the winds.

[Undisclosed Location, Antarctica]

A group of six Hidden Agents pointed their semi-automatic rifles at the doors of the helicopter that had landed in their secret arctic headquarters' launch pad. They lowered their guns when the door opened, surprised, then appalled.

"Madame Walker!" One of the agents stepped forward and offered her his hand, which she promptly ignored and hopped down without his help. He retracted his hand, clearing his throat. "Y-you're here in person!"

Veronica Walker flicked her thumb up, conjuring a flame that she used to light her cigar, taking several puffs before waving the fire away. "No time, Gaspard. Gather the agents and the the mercenaries in the assembly hall. 2011 is going to be a busy year for Hidden Agenda."

"Madame, what about the pilot?" Another agent asked, checking the inside of the helicopter.

"He's bewitched. Leave him. I'll fabricate his memory later." She said coolly, strutting inside.