Chapter 19: Party

Joe closed the cardboard box and sealed it tight with a length of tape. Nestled inside, wrapped tight between a few layers of bubble wrap and sealed inside a plastic bag, was what looked like the hard drive for a computer. At least, Joe assumed it was a hard drive. She was shipping it off to Ilia to have her try to recover anything she could from the decimated hardware.

Ray had been so excited when he had called her after opening the lock box. The piece of electronic equipment hadn't escaped the water, but the metal box it had been contained in had taken the brunt of the damage of its pressure. With any luck, there would be something useful on it that could be recovered.

So, under Jack's orders, Joe was sending it off to be inspected by Ilia. Ilia, who had been furious when Joe had called with the request, almost didn't agree to do it.

“I am on vacation!” she had nearly screamed through the phone.

Joe had pleaded, pet Ilia's ego by telling her that she was the only one who could accomplish the task, and convinced her to agree. It wasn't totally true, of course. Jack had many people he could ask to recover the information on the hard drive but, as he insisted, he wanted as few people to know as possible. Since Ilia already knew, he wanted her to do it.

Joe couldn't help but wonder if they would get anything off of it at all. She wasn't a tech expert but she knew that electronics and water did not mix.

However, she had her orders, and she placed the information for the boat Ilia had bought to travel in onto it so it would be delivered to her.

“Do you think we'll get anything from it?” Kai asked her as he walked into the room. He was busy going over the base while she packed it.

“I think the chances are slim but we have to try.” Joe looked the box over, inspecting her packing job. So many clues were turning up now, one of them would have to, eventually, pan out.

At least, she hoped so.

XXXXXXXXXX

Brooklyn had never been one for parties. The few gatherings she did attend were often quiet, sedate. Eisenhower's party was anything but.

There were more people there than she really wanted to count. She wondered how Eisenhower could be so close to all of them. It seemed ridiculous that a man could have so many friends.

Almost an hour earlier, she and Warren had driven up Eisenhower's expansive driveway to the foot of his rather ostentatious mansion. It was big, much bigger, in fact, than it had any right to be. There was a lot of wasted space where Eisenhower hadn't been creative enough to fill it with furniture. Everything was well cared for by professional hands but it was all tacky and gaudy. Nothing Eisenhower owned could be defined as elegant or with any trace of class.

He had a LED pool table in one room with three different foosball tables, one of which a party goer was already passed out on. There was a big room with a pool that was kept to a very warm temperature despite the chill outside. It was full of, mostly, naked people, none of whom looked at all shy about being there in the nude. Brooklyn had mistakenly walked inside earlier and had seen far more than swimming going on in there.

The air smelled of alcohol so potent she was worried she might get drunk on the fumes alone. Mixed into it was the cloyingly sweet scent of marijuana, rich cigar smoke, and ashy tobacco. All of it clashed with the multitude of scents of perfume that the many guests wore.

She supposed they were all artistic types like Eisenhower. She saw a few women who seemed to perform their art on their own faces based on the outrageous and blinding make up they wore. Gowns glittered along with tailor fit jeans, heels clacked over the hardwood floor, leaving divots at random intervals, voices raised in delight chattered all around her.

It was complete information overload. Brooklyn would have given almost anything to be back in her quiet hotel room with something classical floating through the air rather than the obnoxious beat that vibrated the halls as she walked around.

She supposed it wouldn't have been so bad had Warren not gone off on his own almost as soon as they walked in the door.

“I'm going to check around the house.” he had said to her. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

Because she knew he wouldn't do his job if she said no, she had nodded and began exploring the mansion on her own. A few times, a beverage of questionable origins would be pushed on her by random people but she refused them all. Potentially pregnant people shouldn't drink.

As she walked, she did what she did best: she observed.

At first, it was hard to look past the glitz and glamor of the rich that had come to party without worry of judgment. She saw multiple people she recognized only from magazine covers or TV channels. None of whom, she thought with a wry smile, that had a very esteemed reputation with the press. Eisenhower's mansion, set far back from the road away from prying eyes with strict security all around, was a place of freedom for these people. No one here had to worry about tabloids or press or questions or accusations. It looked almost like any gathering she would ever see. Humans and mythics blending together under a blanket of wealth and common interests.

However, as she watched, Brooklyn began to be able to notice distinct patterns.

First came the realization that not everyone was dressed in clothes worth more than her entire closet. There were a few here and there that had plain clothes on. Jeans that weren't artfully torn and faded, but actually so. People that looked slightly gaunt from malnutrition, slightly pale individuals that were doing their best to interact with the classy people around them.

A few questions to a few random people told Brooklyn that these were all artists. A few questions to those people, after being forced to hear about their art, revealed to her why they were there.

Eisenhower, in his quest to be the leader of the mythic art world, usually invited a few promising individuals to his parties. It gave them an opportunity to talk their art up to those who had the money to burn on such things. Most of them, she noticed with a shake of the head, were using the opportunity to help themselves to the free liquor and drugs.

After meeting and observing a few of them, a new, slightly more disturbing pattern began to emerge.

The artists that floated around, promoting their art or indulging in the free vices, were all mythics. No matter how many of them she spotted, they were all mythic. This might not have bothered her at all, except that as she began cataloging the list of VIP guests, she noticed that everyone of them was human.

There were plenty of famous mythics, there were plenty of famous disreputable mythics, she found it strange that none of them were present at a party thrown by an MCRC head.

She told herself it was nothing, that she was simply reading too much into it.

However, as she continued to study the crowd, she took note of multiple interactions between guests. The humans weren't just enjoying a party without judgment, they were treating the mythic artists that tried to speak to them rather harshly. It wasn't just a cold brush off or a denial to listen to a speech about art, it was condescension. Mythics that weren't already high or drunk or both were being sent to fetch things for the human elite. Food, drink, drugs; the humans made a motion for it and the mythic would run off to get it, almost eagerly. They knew that, even as they were treated like servants, they needed to opportunity to promote their art.

The humans rarely looked at the mythics, when they did they spoke with such haughtiness, with such condescension, that Brooklyn wondered how the mythics they spoke to handled it.

The mythics had been invited just as the humans had been, Brooklyn knew, but the distinction between the two people couldn't have been more clear if someone had posted signs around. Brooklyn couldn't bring herself to believe that an MCRC head would have a prejudice against mythics. Then again, a few months ago, she couldn't bring herself to believe one of them might be a traitor either. Knowing she might just be exaggerating something that was just coincidence, Brooklyn found a semi-quiet corner to watch those around her without being noticed.

It was as she was contemplating this, trying to decide if it was real or not, that she spotted Warren again.

She smiled. A smile that slipped off of her face when she saw that Eisenhower was right beside him and that they were laughing loudly. Both men had an expensive beer in one hand, though Eisenhower was the only one who was taking an occasional drink, and they were walking around, talking like old friends.

Which was proof, Brooklyn thought, that she was wrong. Eisenhower wouldn't be prejudiced against mythics, that was ridiculous. He was an MCRC head and he was treating Warren like a frat brother.

Even as she watched, Eisenhower's assistants followed the two into the room, staggering because they were all already drunk. Brooklyn wondered, perversely, if they were ever sober.

The red head and the blonde, whom she recognized as J.R. and Kelly respectively went to stand, or rather hang, off of Eisenhower's arms. Maybe, she thought with a bit of guilty humor, they stayed drunk all the time to stand being around Eisenhower.

The humor faded immediately when Dominique, the brunette, walked over to Warren's side and looked up at him with a pair of sultry eyes. She made sure her breasts rubbed against Warren's arm when she grabbed onto it. She was, Brooklyn couldn't help but notice, considerably more sober than her two companions.

And Warren, she couldn't help the anger that flashed when she saw, wasn't all that eager to get away from her.

He said something to her that Brooklyn couldn't hear over the music and she laughed, her generous bust shaking against him as she did so. She couldn't hear the responding laugh either, but she imagined it was just as lusty and sultry and trampy as the woman who made it.

The ferocity and immediacy of her own anger surprised her. That surprise, however, was not enough to bank the fury.

She was the woman he promised to marry, the woman who might be carrying his child, and he was letting some busty brunette with smokey eyes and a too short dress cuddle up to him?

Logically, she knew there must be more to the story. There was no way Warren would do that to her. However, it was very hard for that logic to reach her anger clouded mind when she dearly wanted to rip Dominique off of him and then kick him in the groin.

Brooklyn chose her hiding spot very well and she herself might as well have been wallpaper for all that she stood out, so she wasn't surprised that they didn't notice her. She fully expected them to work their way around the room and back out again without ever realizing she was lounging on a couch in a corner no one paid any mind to.

That's why it did surprise her when, a few steps into the room, Warren's eyes moved across the people dancing and fell on her.

He smiled in a very friendly way which only served to make her madder.

Gathering her dignity about her, Brooklyn stood from the couch, took a second to dust off her skirt, then left the room not bothering to hide her displeasure at her mate.

It only took about 20 seconds for Warren to catch up to her as she walked away.

“What's wrong?” he asked immediately as he fell into step beside her.

“Not a thing.” Brooklyn told him stiffly. “Go enjoy your brunette.”

“I would but she's mad at me at the moment.” Warren smiled at her charmingly.

“Not even a nice a try.” Brooklyn 'harrumph'd and sped up a bit.

Warren barely had to increase his stride to keep up. “You can't be mad about Niki?”

“Niki?” Brooklyn repeated incredulously. “I can very well be mad about Niki. Why are you calling her Niki?”

“She asked me to.” Warren shrugged. “Eisenhower said she'd be my company tonight and practically threw her on me. Was I supposed to say 'no'?”

“Yes.” Brooklyn looked surprised that he even asked.

“I'm trying to make friends, remember?” he asked with a laugh, as if he was enjoying her rage. “I couldn't tell him 'no' without giving him a reason and I'd rather my enemies not know about you or our potential child yet.”

“Oh, so you were letting Niki rub herself all over you like a cat in heat for your family?” she asked sarcastically. She glared when his face broke out into a big, goofy smile. “What is so funny?”

“Funny?” he asked. “No, happy. That was the first time you called us a family.”

“Don't get off topic.” she ordered, not wanting to feel the pleasure that swept her heart at the simple statement. “You can't be a family man and let busty brunettes hang off your arm.”

“Was she busty?” he asked innocently. “I hadn't noticed.”

“Nice try.” she tried not to smile at the conviction with which he said it, she could almost believe it.

“Her hair is mousy.” he continued. “Kind of ashy, not at all alluring. And did you see her teeth? They're huge! She looks like a squirrel.”

Brooklyn couldn't stop the giggle from slipping out of her mouth and Warren pressed his advantage eagerly.

“And those other two?” he made a face like he had tasted something sour. “Blondes are just not my thing and the red head has a weird accent.”

“Okay, okay.” Brooklyn couldn't stop herself from laughing.

Victorious, Warren put his arm around her and pulled her close, pausing in their walk. No one else in the mansion cared, they were hardly the first couple to embrace that evening. “You're the only woman whom I love, Brook. You're the only one I desire.”

Brooklyn snuggled into his chest. It was impossible not to believe him when he spoke with such sincerity. “I suppose as long as it's for work and you don't enjoy it...”

“I hated it.” he assured her, nuzzling her hair. “Her perfume is overpowering, her make up is too heavy, and her skin in like old parchment. It's just terrible.”

Brooklyn laughed. “You're terrible.”

“I speak only the truth, my dearest of loves.” he said dramatically. “If Jack only knew how I suffered, he would be showering me in medals.”

Brooklyn leaned back and smiled up at him, the last of her anger ebbing from her so easily she began to wonder how soon in a pregnancy she would be getting mood swings. Which brought up the question, she realized, that she didn't even know if she was pregnant.

“What thought caught your mind?” Warren asked seeing the sudden change in her expression. It wasn't angry, it was more contemplative.

“Just thinking that we should probably get a pregnancy test.” she told him happily.

“I told you we aren't having a baby by numbers.” he reminded her pointlessly. “I say we just wait until you start showing then announce it.”

“That's a terrible system.” Brooklyn laughed. “It's better to find out sooner so I can get to a doctor.”

“Oh, yeah.” Warren gave an exaggerated sigh. “Somehow, the hospital just takes all the romance out of it.”

“Practicality is very rarely romantic.” Brooklyn stood up on her toes and placed a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth. “However, it prevents a lot of problems. It'll be healthier for both of us and it would be better to go into the doctor's office with a positive pregnancy test in my hand.”

Warren grin turned goofy again. “Positive...It would be, wouldn't it?”

“As a general rule, pregnancy tests tend to be positive when you're pregnant. It would kind of ruin their purpose if it could go either way.” Brooklyn laughed.

“I'm excited.” Warren smiled at her. “Hey, you want to go find a corner of this mansion that isn't already occupied and neck? It'll be fun.”

“We have a job to do, remember?” Brooklyn pointed out, caressing his chest as she did so.

“I've already done it, remember?” he countered.

“Did you?” Brooklyn asked.

“What did you think I was doing for the last hour and a half?” he frowned at her lack of confidence in him.

“Fending off Niki's assault on your virtuous self.” Brooklyn suggested sweetly.

“Well, there was that,” Warren yanked gently on a strand of her hair, “but I was also peeking around Eisenhower's place.”

“Did you find anything good?” Brooklyn stepped back and slipped her hand in his and led him down the hall. No one cared about them as they passed people who were more focused on enjoying the party.

“There wasn't any signed confessions.” Warren shrugged. “And while I found an illegal whiskey still in one of the basement rooms and a cache of drugs in pretty much every room, there wasn't anything we were looking for.”

“Too bad we aren't real cops.” Brooklyn shook her head. “There's enough going on here to at least hold Eisenhower on something.”

“Jack will be interested,” Warren told her with a shrug, “if only because he'd want to be warned of a potential disaster like this going on so often over here. For our purposes though, Eisenhower is clean.”

“Well, that's not unexpected.” Brooklyn sighed. “I did notice something earlier though.”

“Oh?” Warren asked.

Taking a quick peek around to make sure that no one was listening, everyone around them was far too absorbed in themselves to care about Warren and Brooklyn, she told him of the differences in the social classes she had noticed. He listened without comment while she spoke, looking thoughtful.

“...but I figured I would have to be wrong since he was making such close friends with you while you were here.” Brooklyn finished.

“Hmm...” Warren hummed thoughtfully. “It could be that, since the mole already knows we're onto him, he's just trying to make friends with me to keep me close. Now that you mention it, I can see it. These upper class guys are nothing but humans.”

“Right?” Brooklyn nodded. “I have a hard time trying to picture it though. Eisenhower is a head of MCRC, I can't imagine him being prejudiced.”

“I don't know.” Warren disagreed cautiously. “He's really full of himself. He likes to think himself above people. He buys things just because their expensive and ignores those he considers beneath him. He's even worse in that regard than Cohen because at least she acknowledges those under her. It's not impossible that wanting to be head of the mythic art world comes from his desire to lord it over mythics.”

Brooklyn sighed as she leaned against him. “Does it ever bother you that none of the people around us can be trusted?”

“I think Jack would be insulted to hear you say so.” Warren laughed.

Brooklyn smiled. “Point taken. Well, since that's out in the open now, I guess you should be getting back to Niki then.”

“But the company is so much better over here.” Warren lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Besides, I doubt she'll miss me.”

“Are you kidding?” Brooklyn laughed. “You're the most handsome guy she's ever had the pleasure of being tossed at by Eisenhower.”

“You can't possibly know that.” Warren smirked at the compliment nonetheless.

“Judging by how excited she looked, I would probably be safe in assuming so.” Brooklyn pushed against him gently. “She was practically crawling all over you.”

“If you ever want to give it a try, I won't object.” Warren suggested, his smirk deepening. “I doubt I would be able to overlook the sight of trying to climb your way up me.”