Ken pulled at his collar as he turned into the driveway, his car smoking and rattling with every meter. He rarely drove his car other than on his regular visits to the Snack J, and as such he hadn't paid too much attention to its maintenance schedule. However tonight's two-and-a-half hour drive to the ISO event had taken a toll on the little-used vehicle, to the point where Ken could only hope that he would make it back to Utoland after the party was over. He was literally sweating bullets, and his rented tuxedo didn't help matters any. Despite Jun's assistance, the shop had been unable to find a shirt that fit him properly… or perhaps, as Jun had suggested, he was simply unused to such attire and as such all of the shirts made him uncomfortable. Everything had felt as if it was choking him, and the bow tie was sufficient to cement the feeling of constant strangulation. To top it all off, it had been so long since he had worn anything other than his Birdstyle or civilian uniform that the simple novelty of different clothes was enough to set him on edge. The evening hadn't even begun, yet Ken was already certain he would have a miserable time.
Jun had offered to accompany him; after all, the invitation hadn't specified whether or not he was allowed to bring along a 'plus one', but Ken had firmly turned her down. While he would have greatly appreciated the company, he didn't want to give her the wrong impression about the way things were between them. Worse yet, he was afraid that had she accompanied him, he would have forgotten the way things were supposed to be between them. That was a mistake he could ill afford until the war was over, Christmas or no.
The driveway seemed to stretch for miles, made of paving stones laid out in subtle patterns and lined with tall, non-deciduous trees. The effect gave the impression that Ken was all alone in the middle of nowhere, a feeling that, given his line of work, made him decidedly uncomfortable.
Without warning, a massive country house rose up from behind the trees, emerging into view with the elegance of a palace and the solidity of a mountain. A trail of lights indicated the direction he should drive, and a few moments later Ken found himself pulling up to an ornate staircase leading up to the vast double doors that marked the entrance to the house. The doors were open, allowing bright light to spill out onto the red-carpeted entranceway.
Ken's car belched and smoked as it approached a young man in a red jacket and black pants.
"Do… do you have an invitation, Sir?" the teenager asked, his eyes darting nervously toward Ken's car.
"Yes." Ken nodded as if nothing were amiss, pulling out his invitation from inside his jacket. He handed it to the teenager for examination.
"Oh." the boy nodded, handing the card back to Ken. "All right, I guess. I'll need your keys, Sir." Ken winced. He hadn't even considered the possibility of valet parking. A flush colored his cheeks as he emerged from the still-running vehicle. The car rattled and moaned as the boy took his place in the driver's seat. Ken did his best to ignore the incongruity as three quiet luxury cars pulled up behind him.
Pushing aside his momentary embarrassment, Ken straightened his jacket and made his way up the stairs toward the entrance. A man there checked his invitation for the second time that evening, then ushered Ken inside.
The interior of the home was extravagant, yet thanks to his experiences as Gatchaman Ken did not feel instantly uncomfortable, as he had with the valet. The large foyer and vast reception hall beyond reminded him of the royal palaces he had seen during his work with the Science Ninja Team. That was not to say that such an environment made him feel at home, but at least he wasn't completely out of his element.
"Champagne, Sir?"
Ken whirled around, startling another teenager in an ill-fitting tuxedo. The teen was holding out a tray of champagne flutes, which were wobbling slightly.
"Uh, no thanks." Ken shook his head. "I don't drink. Is there anything non-alcoholic?"
"Non-alcoholic?" The waiter's face screwed up in surprise, as if he had never heard such a request before. "Uh… I don't know. I'll have to check."
"Okay." Ken nodded, watching the waiter move off. He looked around, uncertain as to how to proceed. He had never been very good at parties. Everyone else seemed to know each other, talking in small groups, moving easily around the large room. Rather than being bare, the floor was scattered with clusters of couches and chairs, clearly encouraging people to sit in groups and become involved in conversation. A massive Christmas tree took up one corner of the room, reaching nearly to the two-storey ceiling. Twinkling lights circled the room, with various other elegant holiday decorations interspersed throughout. Long tables along the walls held all manner of fancy hors d'oeuvres of the kind that made Ken's stomach squirm. He didn't like to eat anything that came from animals so exotic he'd never heard of them, tiny raw sea creatures that still tasted of slime, or things pureed so fine he couldn't even tell what he was ingesting. If he had no teeth then maybe he'd want some baby food, but he didn't see that happening anytime soon.
Avoiding the hors d'oeuvres tables, Ken awkwardly approached one of the groups of chairs, sitting down gingerly and trying desperately to figure out what he should do next.
"I tell you, the new big thing isn't the W3 project, it's something else!" One man was saying to another as the pair walked up and sat down near Ken. "I've heard them talking, but they hush up whenever I come close. It makes me nervous."
"Well we were invited to the party." the other man pointed out. "That says something for our status."
"You've got a point," the first man admitted, "but I don't know everyone here. There are a lot of new faces… maybe we're being replaced."
"If we were being replaced, would we still be here?"
"Maybe; who knows how they think? Wait!" the original speaker turned toward Ken. "You're new, aren't you? I don't know you."
"Uh… Ken Washio." Ken stuck out his hand, uncertain as to how to proceed. The other two men merely stared at him, leaving Ken's fingers awkwardly hanging in midair. After a moment, Ken dropped his arm back to his side.
"I'm sure you're not being replaced." Ken offered, slightly unnerved by the way the other two were glaring at him.
"You're sure are you?" the first man huffed. "What do you know?"
"I don't know anything!" Ken assured them quickly. "I just don't think two experienced men such as yourselves would be replaced so easily."
"You really are new, aren't you?" the second man laughed harshly. "Don't worry, you'll learn." He stood up and moved away, followed by the other man. Even as they departed Ken could feel their suspicion settling over him like a dark cloud.
"So much for small talk." Ken muttered to himself.
"Talking to yourself, are you?" a large, meaty hand clamped down upon Ken's shoulder, grasping it heartily before slapping him on the back, nearly sending him sprawling off of his chair. A man moved around, allowing Ken to get a look at him as he approached. He was extremely large, with a protruding stomach that spoke of years of excess. His red nose and pungent breath clearly indicated that he had been liberally partaking of the champagne.
"That's normally a bad sign," the man continued, plunking himself down on a couch near Ken, "but around here, you never know."
"I suppose not." Ken replied, eying the man warily.
"Jack Thompson." the man introduced himself, sticking out his hand and grabbing Ken's in a tight grip.
"Ken Washio." Ken replied, vainly hoping that Jack wouldn't attempt to crush all of the bones in his right hand. Fortunately the other man held off on maiming Ken's fingers, but Ken still had to fight off an urge to shake out his hand once it was finally released.
"So, Ken, you're here alone?" Jack asked with mock surprise, looking around the room in an exaggerated fashion. "Good-looking young guy like yourself, I'd expect you'd have a date, or at least an escort."
"Well… uh…" Ken cast about for an answer.
"I'm in the middle of my fifth divorce." Jack said confidentially, in a whisper loud enough to carry across the room. "This one lasted for all of four months, can you believe it?" He guffawed loudly, slapping his knee.
"I'm… sorry?" Ken wasn't certain how to respond to this information.
"Yeah, me too! I wish it had only lasted two months!" Jack snickered. "Women! You can't live with them, you can't live without them. Am I right, boy?"
"Well…"
"See, I knew you'd agree with me!" Jack roared. "Hey, kid, over here with that champagne!" He beckoned to a nearby waiter, taking the entire tray from the startled teen's arms. "And bring back another for my friend here!"
"Uh, I don't drink." Ken interjected. "Perhaps something non-alcoholic?"
"Yes, Sir!" the waiter said quickly, before running off in a manner that suggested he wasn't eager to return anytime soon.
"Little wussy boy, still belongs with his mama!" Jack snorted at the retreating waiter. "Hey, what's with you not having a drink, Ken? You need to get your gumption up!" He shoved a champagne flute at Ken, nearly spilling half of its contents onto Ken's sleeve in the process.
"Um, thanks." Ken said quickly, realizing that protesting would be of no avail. He pretended to take a sip, then set the glass down on the coffee table in front of him.
"See? Isn't that better?" Jack slapped Ken heartily on the back again, making Ken inordinately grateful that he had had the foresight to put down the champagne flute.
"Much." Ken choked.
"You look like a good guy, Ken. Let me give you a little advice…" Jack began. But it didn't end there. Jack went on and on, bellowing and chortling, hardly giving Ken a chance to get in a word to respond, much less get away. Ken heard numerous details about Jack's wives, his drinking and the sports teams he followed, none of which was of any interest to Ken whatsoever. The entire time Jack downed glass after glass of champagne as if it were water. Eventually such rapid ingestion of alcohol had its natural effect, and Jack excused himself to go visit the facilities. It was with great relief that Ken watched him depart. The moment Jack was out of sight Ken stood, intending to move off so that Jack wasn't able to corner him again once he emerged from the bathroom.
Of course, the problem with this was that now he was on his own once more, feeling more awkward by the minute. He stood off to the side of the room for a moment, wondering vaguely if he should have taken the glass of champagne with him, just so he would have something to occupy his hands.
"Just what I was looking for!"
The soft feminine purr sent alarm bells ringing inside Ken's head. He whipped his body around, nearly knocking into a tall, blonde girl leaning over him.
"Excuse me… Miss… I think you have me confused with someone else." he said nervously, his eyes bulging as they fell on the exposed décolletage of the woman confronting him. She looked to be in her late teens, with long, blonde hair and a bright red dress so tight it might as well have been painted on. Her blue eyes took on a predatory expression Ken only vaguely understood, yet it unnerved him all the same.
"Oh I don't have you confused with anyone." the girl replied confidently, placing her hand on Ken's shoulder in a possessive manner. "The hottest guy at this dull party, standing underneath the mistletoe? Well that just grabbed my attention right there."
"Mistletoe?" Ken choked, immediately looking upward to spot the offending greenery. Big mistake. The girl topped him by at least six inches, and as such turning his view upward only brought his face closer to hers. She smiled like a cat that had eaten a bowl of cream, bending her head downward…
"I… I didn't realize there was mistletoe…" Ken protested, taking a step back, sending the girl stumbling. Now that he had moved away slightly he was able to see something green hanging from the ceiling, but whether it was holly or mistletoe he couldn't tell.
"Doesn't matter, you've got to pay the price." the girl insisted, grabbing Ken's head with both hands and suddenly mashing her lips against his. Ken choked, then gasped for air as her mouth moved away and across his cheek.
"I really don't think this is a good idea." he sputtered, backing away so quickly he ended up bumping into one of the hors d'oeuvres tables. Instinctively he put his hands backward for leverage, only to find one of them knocking against something extremely cold and slimy.
"But it's an excellent idea." the girl purred. "What do you say we get out of here and find our own fun?"
"Oh, I don't think I could do that…" Ken protested, his right hand getting colder and wetter by the minute. "It wouldn't be polite…"
"My Daddy is hosting this party." the girl informed Ken, as if that fact should impress him. "I'll get you out of it. I can make Daddy do anything I want." This last statement was uttered proudly, with a hint of malice.
"Excuse me, Miss Karin." one of the waiters had suddenly appeared, much to Ken's intense relief. "You father would like to see you."
"Now?" Karin's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"He… he insisted…" the waiter stuttered, cowering away from Karin's wrath.
"Oh, very well." Karin huffed. "I'll see you later, Hottie." She trailed one finger along Ken's cheek, down his neck and onto his chest as she departed, leaving Ken shivering in genuine fear. Galactor he could deal with, but this girl was clearly more than he could handle.
The moment Karin was gone, Ken took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his pounding heart. He sighed, leaning forward and bringing up his right hand to rub at his face. However a revolting stench assaulted his nostrils, causing him to pull away his fingers in disgust.
"What the hell…?" he wondered, turning to see what was going on. Looking down at the hors d'oeuvres table, it appeared that in his haste to get away from Karin he had dunked his hand inside a bowl of iced caviar. His nose wrinkled in disgust, the offending odor wafting up to his nostrils. Worse yet, the bowl had clearly been disturbed, and was obviously no longer sanitary. Ken would have to find some way to dispose of this mess.
Nervously he glanced around, relieved to find that no one seemed to be looking his way. Quickly he grabbed the dirty bowl, sticking it behind his tuxedo jacket for quick cover. He caught sight of himself in a nearby decorative wall mirror, groaning as he realized that he looked like a fourth-rate James Bond impersonator.
Quickly Ken moved over to a nearby potted plant, rapidly dumping the contents of the bowl onto the soil, then concealing the dish itself amongst the leaves. He didn't want to think about how many dollars he had just wasted with his clumsiness, but at least this way no one else would be eating the dirtied delicacy.
That left only one problem remaining: his hand. Even with his arm at his side, Ken could smell the disgusting, fishy odor from the caviar oils. He had to find a place to wash it off.
Grimly, Ken headed in the direction Jack had gone when he had excused himself. It didn't take him long to find the facilities. Unfortunately, there was a line of women standing outside, all of them chattering and looking like they were about to settle in for the night.
"Excuse me, is there another bathroom?" Ken asked a passing waiter.
"Try down that hall." the waiter pointed. "We use the one down there." He frowned, his nose wrinkling suspiciously. "Do you smell something?"
"No, nothing." Ken replied hurriedly. "Thanks." He moved off rapidly before the man was able to pinpoint the source of the odor.
The hallway to which Ken had been directed had a series of uniform doors, none of which had a bathroom sign on the exterior. Ken supposed that made sense: this was a private residence after all, not a convention hall. Yet it didn't help matters any. Sighing, Ken began trying all of the doors, careful to only use his left hand. The majority of them were locked, narrowing the search but making it more frustrating all the same.
Eventually a door opened. Ken stumbled into the room eagerly, only to discover that it wasn't the bathroom. A group of five stern men sitting around a conference table stared at him.
"You're not Simon!" one of them snarled. "Who the hell are you?"
"Uh, Simon's on his way." Ken said hurriedly, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him. He could only hope that they wouldn't follow.
Fortunately no one emerged from the room, and Ken began attempting doors again, this time with a little more caution. On his third attempt a door opened, and Ken carefully stuck his head inside, squinting into the dark interior. This room appeared to be some kind of bedroom. Perhaps there would be an ensuite bathroom?
Ken stepped inside, turning on the lights so that he could see. The illumination was met with an outraged bellow.
"What the hell?"
To Ken's immense embarrassment, he realized that a man and woman lay on the bed, their clothes in a state of disarray. The woman, a brunette, could have given Karin a run for her money in the tight dress department, although that apparently hadn't stopped the man's hand from finding its way underneath the low v-neck. The man… Ken's eyes goggled as he realized that the man was Jack.
"Ken!" Jack's expression went from angry to pleased in an instant. "Good to see you! Come over here and meet… uh, what your name again, Honey?"
"Cherie." she said coldly, darting a look of pure venom in Ken's direction.
"Cherie's one of our new recruits." Jack explained, although Ken really wasn't looking for an explanation. "She's eager to 'impress the boss', eh, Cherie?" He grinned lecherously at her, and Cherie's expression quickly turned to one of fawning adoration.
"Well, I was just looking for the bathroom…" Ken stepped backward. "I didn't mean to interrupt…"
"Nonsense!" Jack got up from the bed, moving over toward Ken and grabbing his right hand before Ken could stop him. "We're friends, right? We both work for the same organization. I'm sure Cherie's willing to accommodate."
"Of course." Cherie's demeanor indicated that she was eager to please, even if Ken knew better. Jack dragged Ken over to the bed.
"I don't want to impose." Ken protested. "And I have to get going. I'm expected… at a meeting."
"Oh, well, business before pleasure, huh?" Jack smirked. "I'll see you later, Ken."
"Sure." Ken swallowed nervously, hurriedly exiting the room. He wasn't certain he wanted to know if this kind of thing was a regular occurrence within the ISO, but he made a mental note to discuss the issue with Dr. Nambu.
Another dead end, and this one more embarrassing than the first. Ken was starting to need the bathroom for reasons other than washing his hand. Fortunately the next door he tried opened onto the desired facilities. Best of all, the room was empty. Ken nearly sighed with relief as he was finally able to satisfy the call of nature and wash his hands. He checked three times, ensuring that the fishy odor was gone, before leaving the bathroom and moving back down the hallway to rejoin the party.