Part 1

“You MUST be kidding!” Paige looked up from reading the first few sentences of the official sheaf of papers.“
Just pack your stuff and get outside. We’re leaving in ten minutes, with or without you,” the dark-haired man replied, rolling darker eyes. He turned and walked out the open door. Paige squeaked and started jamming some clothes in a duffel bag. She ran to the bathroom, slipping in her socked feet, and returned with an armful of cosmetics. She proceeded to stuff the bag like a Thanksgiving turkey only not so merciful. She threw in various items including some sunglasses, a notebook, and some other personal items before cramming a backpack full of a strange assortment of objects. She slipped into her boots and grabbed the bags before running out the door.
She returned a moment later, remembering, “Money, ticket, passport!” She rummaged in a drawer and dashed out, something small and white fluttering to the ground in her wake.
********
Sera tapped her converse-clad foot on the carpetted floor in impatience. She sipped her martini and tried to pay attention to what the boring officer was saying.
“..aware at all times for your target. If you read section A-5708 it stated your main goal. This is not a game. Someone’s life is in your hands. Do not fail. The CIA will be watching you from here-“
“What? From a limousine?” the dark-haired guy asked. He was answered with a glare.
“We will be watching you from HQ. And as this is so tedious that you feel you need to provide your own amusement, Pierce, I will inflict my instructions upon you three no longer,” he promptly took out the newspaper and began to read, ignoring the passengers seated across from him.
The other girl seated next to Sera tucked some pink-tipped hair behind her ears looked out the tinted window. Sera looked her over deductively. Platinum blonde hair with bright pink tips? Oh please. Eyes hidden by black shades hints possible insecurity. Trying to figure out her partner’s personality by her looks was getting boring. Sera downed the last of her martini and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing her lipgloss. Oops. She flipped open a compact and reapplied Peach Passion. She looked up to meet General Stag’s glare. She crossed her eyes in reply and grinned when his face turned the color that rivaled a beetroot.
“Now look here Missy, your mind is supposed to be on your job not your appearance and blah blab blah blabbity blah blah..” Drone on King of Tedium. Sera pasted on a blank face that looked mildly interested while inwardly cursing him in three languages. She poured herself another martini.
********
Levi sketched on a piece of paper on the customary pull-out table flight table attached to the seat in front of him. He shook his dark hair out of his eyes and tried to ignore his discomfort and instead focus on his illustration. One seat to his right, the female-Rip-van-Winkle-wannabe-with-shades had been out like a light since they got to their seats. The General something-that-starts-with-S across the aisle was reading the New York Times. Again. Levi raised his brows. How many times can one sad adult read the stupid newspaper? It’s not like the news has changed in the last two-plus hours. He looked down and made a quick stroke of his pen to complete his portrait. It showed a big picture of nothing. Being in a cramped space in coach class with a crappy movie playing does not provide the best inspiration. Quite the contrary. He stretched as best he could in the confined space and looked to his left where the curvy honey-blonde was engaged in an argument with the flight attendant.
“…look, it’s not that big of a deal!”
“Alright, Miss,” the young woman replied, all smiles while her eyes glared daggers. She changed the subject, “Can I get you anything?”
“Another pillow, if you can call it that,” she dug her fingernails into the tiny thing. “It looks like a Maxi pad.”
The flight attendant tucked another maxi-pad behind Sera’s head, smiled, and waited. When the thank you did not come, she pivoted on her heel and strutted away. Levi watched as Sera shoved on some headphones and cranked up the volume on her cd player. He could hear the alternative music. He flipped over his paper and sketched a flight attendant coming to take revenge on an unsuspecting passenger by means of a flaming knife.
********
Paige stretched sleepily, “Mmf where’re we?” she slurred. She looked around the airport terminal through half-closed eyelids. She covered her mouth in a yawn. “’Scuze me..” The obscenely cheery voice over the intercom finished her report, “…thank you again for flying Lufthansa Airlines and welcome to Dublin, Ireland..” Paige’s eyes snapped open, “WHAT THE FROG WE’RE IN LEPRACHAUN-LAND?!”