Hidden Agenda(Private RP)

[Bee]

Welcome to the Institute. You are now part of what is dubbed on the inside as "Hidden Agenda 03". You and your associates are to be assisting Cryptozoologists in locating, containing, researching, and eliminating Cryptids.

What are Cryptids?

The things that go bump in the night. Monsters, Aliens, Vampires, Werewolves. The stuff of nightmares. For millenia people have spoken in fear of them. People have hunted them, to mixed success. Your own kind was once considered a form of Cryptid. We are here to protect Mankind from the evils that lurk in the darkness. YOU are here to protect Mankind.

Collect your mission Dossiers, ready your weapons, and Godspeed to you.


(If you didn't receive a link to this, then you aren't invited. Please leave, or get fed to the beasties.)

Gameplan: Hunt down bad monsters, contain the good ones, look badass doing it.

GM: Ray

Char Sheets:

Name:
Age:
Species: (If Cryptid, put the closest thing as to what it is)
Affiliation: Hidden Agenda, Rogue, OR Neutral
Appearance:
Background:
Weapons:
Skills:
Weaknesses:
Other:

[Bee]

Name: Sable Borgin
Gender: Female Dominant Hermaphrodite
Age: 21
Species: Siberian Tigress Furran
Affiliation: Hidden Agenda
Appearance: [PHOTOGRAPH NOT AVAILABLE] 6'0" tall, 175 pounds, lithe, mildly muscular, C-Cup chest, 8-inch cock. Normally dressed in camo cargo pants, black tank top, heavy leather belt with crossdraw holsters, Army jacket, and "Castro Hat"(The kind of hat Castro wears). Orange fur, black stripes, white belly, black hair kept in a ponytail, red eyes.
Background: Unnaturally photoshy for her kind, a member of the newly released race of "Furran" or "Furries". She was trained at a young age to be sensitive to the world around her, to listen to her instincts, to see beyond her eyes. A short stint in the military honed her combat skills, and earned her a mildly reputable track record in the process. Circumstances allowed her to be in the right place at the right time to be hired on for the Hidden Agenda, a chance she knew full well she would never get again. While with the obediance of a soldier, she isn't too concerned as to how a mission goes, often with disasterous results that leave her as the populace's whipping boy. The negative feedback on her assignments have black-labeled her within the organization, as many new recruits to the group often die within their first 24 hours around her. Whether its a horrible fluke of Fate, Poor recruit training, or she just kills them out of anger, she refuses to say. As with some Furran, she is mildly empowered, with the ability to manipulate fate to a certain degree. Perhaps this is why she hasn't been terminated yet, despite her numerous mistakes and failed missions.

Weapons:

"Heaven" And "Hell" - Two Taurus PT 845 semi-automatic pistols, each in .45ACP and rated for .45 ACP+P and .45 Super. Each with 16+1 extended magazines, Custom night sights, and a rail to accept various lights and lasers.

"Heaven"



"Hell"



"FUCK YOU" - To put it in the bluntest of terms, She sticks the blade of her survival knife into the link of a length of chain, and locks it in place by putting the hilt edge and the nub of the butt into other links, and hurls it with great force. Such improvised weapons are normally frowned upon, but she can conceal both the knife and the 15 feet of logging chain on her person rather easily, and no one has yet to muster up the courage to take it from her.

Skills:

- Ability to sense/see spirits

- Mild Luck Manipulation

- Strength greater than a comparable human female

- Speed on par with her Tiger counterpart
Weaknesses: Easily angered, easily outwitted, has a rather sensitive scrotum.

Other: Due to her hermaphroditism, she is usually a slave to her hormones, which makes her noticeably aroused when around people(Females in particular) that she finds attractive. Prepare your Anus for imminent rape.

Theme Song: Iced Earth - Hallowed Be Thy Name (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PVbzO0X6dU)
Theme Song 2: The Trooper - Iron Maiden (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3Ak78uo0UA)

[Frisk E. Coyote]

Name: Veronica Walker, The Last Witch of the 20th Century.

Gender: Female

Age: 109

Species: Witch

Affiliation: Hidden Agenda

Appearance:

Background: Born in September 13, 1901, on a Friday, Veronica was the only daughter of Agatha Walker, the last survivor of the Salem Witch Hunts. When she was very young, she and her mother were captured by remnants of the draconian witch hunters looking for malevolent witches, where they were interrogated, tortured and raped. Her mother was then stabbed repeatedly before her eyes, and her face was marred by one of the witch hunters because "hags aren't meant to be beautiful".

Breaking her promise of only using her witchcraft for good, Veronica used her blood as a catalyst to invoke flames of vengeance, burning her captors alive. After escaping, she traveled the world, interacting with other supernatural creatures and rarely other witches, learning more and more spells and witchcraft to use. At the age of 23, she learned the spell that allows her to live much longer than humans, at the rate of 10 human years equating to one year for her.

At the age of 30, she started hunting "monsters" for superstitious people, from heartless spirits to the fabled Jersey Devil. At the age of 45, she started collecting regular people who would accept her and educate them on her kind, turning them into her apprentices, who would in turn start speaking on her behalf to the public, and to schools. It was a part of her plan to introduce cryptids to the public, in a new light.

At the age of 55, "Hidden Agenda" was founded to continue her work of protecting people, as well as benevolent cryptids' reputations, from evil cryptids, while Veronica herself disappeared for a while, sending instructions and finances to the organization via middleman.

At the age of 65, Hidden Agenda is going strong, but continues to exist under the radar, keeping cryptids a secret while researching and bringing them back for information. Veronica returns, and decides to start recruiting more people, including cryptids. Food and lodgings are offered to people who work at HQ.

At the age of 85, Veronica starts recruiting Furrans.

At the age of 100 to the present, there is an extreme spike in cryptid activity, and Veronica suspects something big is coming. Hidden Agenda will have it's work cut out for it, so Veronica starts hiring mercenaries as well.

Weapons: Various firearms with different kinds of ammo for different kinds of targets and traditional witchcraft.

Skills: Witchcraft, Black Magic, Gunslinging, Tactical Warfare and close quarters combat.

Weaknesses: Overconfidence, short temper, and computer rage.

Other: Do NOT ask about her scar. Theme 1, American Witch. Theme 2, Running From the Past.

~ ~ ~

Name: Gunter Valeriu

Gender: Male

Age: ??

Species: Homunculus/Chimera/Golem

Affiliation: Hidden Agenda

Appearance: 6'2, lanky teenager with pale, smooth skin, black, spiky hair with a pair of fringes framing his face, the roots of his hair are white, but fade to black as it extends to the tips. He has red eyes. Underneath his Agent Uniform is an outfit consisting of belts. Lots and lots of belts.

Background:

Mission Log 18: October 22, 1966

I, Hidden Agent Maximoff and my team of five other Hidden Agents have found the rumored "Vanishing Castle" of the Carpathian mountains. The circumstances that lead up to this point have been recorded in Mission Log 15 if a review of our actions is required. The locals beg us not to go, the devil's watchdog lives there, they say. Perhaps we will find a variant of hellhound there. We have a limited number of cow bones to distract it with, but a cryptid is a cryptid. We will go before the castle disappears in fifteen hours.

- - -

Not much is known about Gunter except that when the team came back, they brought him with them. He was welcomed into Hidden Agenda and made into an agent.

Weapons: ??

Skills: Appears to have psychic or magic abilities. Is also very durable.

Weaknesses: Pornography, Sweets and Advanced Technology. Also extremely naive and very gullible.

Other: Loves to hug. Theme 1, Loneliness. Theme 2, Hidden Agenda.

[Guilmon and a shotgun]

Name: RMAK, Gun for Hire.

Gender: Female

Age: Physically 6 human years, mentally about 24.

Species: Advanced Humanoid

Affiliation: Hidden Agenda

Appearance:

Background: Loose and patched together from whatever information isn't classified. She was the creation of a scientific wonder, and was built from the beginning to be a strong, determined and unbeatable.
Skills: CQC, Sniper, Support, Heavy weapons, Explosives, Melee, Defense, Ambush, Gurella Tactics, Urban Warfare, Camouflage and Distraction Tactics to list a few. She also has a skin that covers a layer of Titanium alloy over her body, with a skeletal structure constructed of the same material. On top of this, she often wears Advanced Combat armor on top of a rubberized flame retardant suit to cover her body skin and fur from explosives and fire damage. Her upper torso and limb strength allows her to deftly fire two assault rifles or LMGs from the hip whilst running. This does not however account for much accuracy.

Weaknesses: Seemingly none, except for memories and her closest relatives.

Other: She never Hesitates. Theme 1, Bulls on Parade - RATM. Theme 2, Sad Romance - Ji Pyeong Keyon

[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.

[Bee]

"Fucking cold..." A tigress muttered as she tromped through the snow across the compound. Her voice was quiet, with a slight southern drawl to it. "I hate the fucking cold."

She was right, she really did dislike the cold. Her unique condition meant that her fur grew in odd, not quite the scruff of a male tiger, but not the sleek, attractive facial fur of a female, either. It drove her nuts. She pulled her jacket closer to her body, keeping her pistols covered to keep the cold from freezing up the actions.

"Why does the meeting have to be across the compound?" She asked aloud, her fur standing on end to keep her warm, "If it weren't for the fact she had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of, I'd be out of this Hellhole and back on the gulf coast with Momma..."

She sighed wistfully, looking across the snow-covered buildings, wishing for some sun and sand instead of being stuck on the bottom of the earth.

She stepped into the conference room, where a few of the other agents were already congregating, and shook the snow off of her body. She hung her jacket on the coat rack, and looked around, smiling slightly as she saw the Boss herself.

"Mistress Walker." She said to herself, licking her fangs lustfully, "If only you liked sex."

[Guilmon and a shotgun]

RMAK was already there, sitting on a table with various pieces of her assault rifle strewn over the place. She was making sure every single piece was as clean and precise as needed, before embarking on whatever mission was needed here. The AK47 was and always has been the most reliable weapon she knew; it never broke or jammed on her yet and she was to make sure that would never happen even once.

The door opened and her eyes flicked up, seeing Sable enter. She hadn't met this tigeress, but she didn't trust anyone from the first eye contact. Her eyes flicked left to see if there was any difference on the Boss' face. She was as solemn as stone and had an icy personality. RMAK had only spoke to her once and from that she upheld her as an effective leader.

[Frisk E. Coyote]

Eiselay, an upper-tier veteran agent, brought Veronica Walker a bottle of beer, which she casually took a swig of, scanning and scrutinizing the room with her visible eye as she waited for everyone to gather. She knew everyone's faces, not in person, but from the files she had on everyone in her employ. Many of the newer agents have never met or even seen her, having been briefed on their assignments by higher ups, and rarely Veronica herself on a private intercom.

"Will there be anything else, Madame Walker?" Eiselay asked, twiddling with his white goatee.

"An actual assembly hall would be nice." She replied icily. The 'assembly hall' was basically just the gigantic cafeteria where everyone ate. They never really had a need for an assembly hall after all, so one was never built. Eiselay smiled meekly at her reply, but the smile vanished when he realized she wasn't joking.

There were some familiar faces among the mercenaries, especially the ones she contracted in person. There was RMAK, cold and efficient, she followed her orders to a T. It was good to know there was someone dependable already.

She furrowed her brows slightly when she noticed that there was a good chunk of the veteran agents that were stationed here missing. They dared to bump back against the things that went bump in the night, and now they bumped back even harder. The result was that roughly 80% of the Agendas classed C and above were now nearly always fatal.

She recognized the Furran named Sable from the picture she had of her in one of her files, along with a record of failed attempts to bring a Cryptid back alive, and many temporary partnerships ending in fatalities. She was a problem agent with an attitude, and under any other circumstances while Veronica was here, she would've been sent back wherever she came from and had her memory wiped clean of every trace of Hidden Agenda in it.

But not anymore. They needed as many agents as possible- in fact- they were so understaffed that mercenaries had to be hired to help. Failure was no longer an option.

Veronica silenced the room by casually tossing the beer bottle behind her so it smashed against the wall. She then got up and strode over to a podium.

"First thing's first," She raised a hand carelessly and curled her fingers in one-by-one, until it was a fist. The light dimmed a little with each finger curled until it disappeared completely. The power went out. The back-up generator didn't even kick in. Five of the agents, three of which were cyborgs and two of which were androids, collapsed. "What I am about to tell you is a secret that if revealed to the wrong people, may shake the very foundations of the balance we have been fighting to keep for so long."

With her other hand, she produced a satchel from behind her and tossed it forward. The contents spilled out onto the ground; some sort of white powder that started to arrange itself into an intricate circle around everyone in the room, including her. "So you'll understand that I can only proceed after I make sure that won't be a problem, right?"

[Bee]

Moirai's eyes narrowed, Noting that Veronica glanced her direction. No doubt she was well informed on her own less than stellar track record. Not alot of people liked her, and she didn't like alot of people. There was a distinct look in her Boss' eye, one that she's seen before too many times. One that seemed to say, "If I didn't need you here, you'd be fired".

She glanced over at the new Merc, one that was called RMAK. One of the best, she heard. Almost indestructible. Probably hired to be partnered with her, to keep from 'accidentally' killing more site personnel.

The lights dimmed, and her military training took over. Her eyes trained on her superior, her ears swung forward to grab every important detail of this briefing. She moved to parade rest, her feet shoulder-width apart, her knees relaxed, and her hands behind her back. A traditional military posture for when one was receiving orders.

It's not that she disobeyed anyone, really. She really did try on several missions to be an outstanding Field Agent, but for some reason, around her, bad things happened when she's under stress. A few dead Field Agents, if they could talk, would prove that she didn't do anything wrong. Inwardly, she sighed, thinking to herself, "I'm just a walking bad-luck generator, aren't I?"

[Guilmon and a shotgun]

RMAK watched this strange woman with her satchel of white powder and a smile curled around her lips. "So she wishes to drug us on Coke or something?" she thought, wondering what level of crazy she was working for here. Still, the pay was nice, and the other mercenaries and 'Agents' didn't seem very threatening...there was the supposedly drooling psychopathic one named Moirai who she had heard killed more of her own allies than her enemies. And she was watching RMAK right now.

She adjusted herself in the seat, trying not to think about it.