Who: Communism and Baba Yaga Where: A block away from the UN building When: Afternoon, before this. Warnings: Peppy!Plotting!Commie. Extremely left-wing politics.
Communism kept the flurry of calls between the capitals of North Korea, Russia and China running in the back of his mind as he strolled down the street, dressed in his best suit. The government officials were planning, doing their best to syncronize and Communism loved it. The Security Council had called a consultation meeting, Japan's desperation fueling the scramble and Communism, while he wouldn't even try to breach the building, wanted to touch base with an old friend.
He had been powerful in the mortal realm back in the old days, working for the Cominterm as a fresh-faced, extremely intelligent and devoted youth with a background in boot-making, metal-working and once he had finished up his law degree, they had snapped him up as a high-level lawyer. The Russian delegation included one of his old acquaintances, a low-level clerk back in the Soviet days and now a mid-level dignitary who would recognize Communism instantly. The god had aged himself until he looked a good twenty years older than normal, his hair gray and his face wrinkled but it was solely so his friend didn't notice the fact that he hadn't aged. Still, he should have looked older but he could easily explain that away.
Of course, the ability to make people believe anything he wanted and the ability to sweep undesirable facts under the rug was returning to him and that would definitely be helpful. Still, he wasn't learning as much as he wanted to know about Russia's plans from his mental wiretaps and he sat on the steps of the headquarters, waiting for Andrei to appear. Of course, the man was late, he was always late and Communism had hated that about him back in the old days but he arrived a good twenty minutes after the armored car had taken the Russian delegation inside. Looking harried, Communism could easily tell that his ever-loyal friend was extremely excited under the facade of stress he was maintaining and it was with a huge grin that he shoved himself slowly up, letting his bones crack for Andrei's benefit.
"Old friend!" He greeted in Russian and they embraced briefly before Communism pulled him away from the steps and the eyes of, well, anyone who would be interested in two men conversing in Russian. Once they were a block away, a heated, quick and excited exchange began in quiet Russian whispers and Communism's smile only grew. Once they were finished, Communism gave Andrei his number and made him promise to call with any news and let his friend rush off to join his delegation.
Communism, pleased as punch and unable to stop grinning, eased himself down onto a bench and once Andrei was out of sight, he called up his growing power to ensure that the mortals around him didn't notice the age melting off his face. Once back to his usual, mid-thirties self, he lit up a Cuban, puffing eagerly and making it so no one would notice the rather foul-smelling cigar. Existence was good. North Korea had finally showed the world they weren't afraid to act and the specter of Communism was growing, growing growing.