Institute File 43001: The Lucy West Case

Lucy West was a girl who knew how to throw a party. “The greatest house party of the year” was to be held at the West family’s summer villa, while her parents were still on business in Europe. Everyone who was anyone at Uni went, and Lucy’s social media explained why – she had met three very fine, handsome young men abroad, all of them clad in swim wear for an evening dip at some exclusive resort in Greece. Apparently these three had started their own delivery company that handled trans-Atlantic transactions on an easy app, and Lucy’s family was entertaining incorporating them into the massive West family’s shipping company.

Adonis, the brown-haired Spaniard was the company founder. His easy-going smile and disarming speech made every presentation fascinating. Hans Von Houten was a bespectacled accounting and computer specialist, who handled all the technical questions on the app and how the company’s pay plans worked. Kenji from Japan was the quiet brooding type and handled marketing and photography, with all his social media posts having dark backgrounds and dour moods. But there was hardly much talk of shop, as their love lives and personal lives were of far more interest, and especially who was Lucy closest to.

Lucy invited all her past and present friends to the party, meaning there would be people who knew Lucy but not each other. Close to a hundred people would be at the villa, eager to get party, get drunk, and get lucky. The Villa itself was a large sprawling with a pool, a large hedge maze in the garden, topiaries, and rose bushes. A greenhouse provided a space to grow exotic flora. The interior was lavishly appointed for large social events, with a massive grand hall with a magnificent view of the Ocean. On the upper floors were the bedrooms and parlors, as well as the soundproof private lounges overlooking the grand hall, where one could get away from the noise.

Uniformed waitstaff were busy setting up the place, while a head of housekeeping, a young blonde go-getter from the valley, one Margot Monroe or “Marge”, walked around with Bluetooth headphones on her head, a clipboard in hand, her phone constantly ringing. “Come on people, look alive! Lucy will be here in an hour! Chop chop!” Marge pushed some landscapers to relocate the plants outside, as to avoid being damaged in the ensuing party. Meanwhile, an aging gentleman from Scotland, Frederick, and former SAS, stood in the grand foyer of the home to welcome any important guests of the family, and not just Lucy’s friends.

At around 5pm of the day of the party though, just before Lucy and her new ‘friends’ were slated to arrive by yacht, the Villa and surrounding area was struck by a sudden freak storm. The rain poured in massive torrents and wind, just as the band arrived. Lucy had signed on a budding social media singer, Gigi Velez who had done club gigs before, singing covers of popular songs and a few of her own. Gigi’s band had arrived earlier and set up a stage, so her arrival was met with more fanfare than usual.

“Oh my god what is this weather!” Gigi exclaimed, smiling as Frederick warmly received her and took her coat.

“Welcome ma’am, let me get that for you. God awful downpour we’re having, wasn't even in the forecast. I hope Lucy doesn’t do anything stupid out on the water.” He said, putting the coat away.

“Oh, hey look it’s Gigi! Can I take a selfie?!” A few guests of Lucy’s spotted the singer and indulged in the admiration of the minor celebrity.

There was more to Gigi than meets the eye though. Hers was a carefully crafted image to serve as a cover for investigating sensitive groups without raising far too much suspicion; and the musicians were no ordinary performers, but Institute men who so happened to know how to play as well. Lucy West’s very sudden friendship with three gentlemen from abroad seemed mundane enough, but evidence of strange dealings was found in West Shipping offices in Europe, and Genevieve O’Niel was to work it as her first case.

Michael watched the staff work from one of the private lounges windows, enjoying the isolation from the chaos, as well as the privacy from prying eyes. He had arrived at the Villa an hour earlier and was given personal access to the lounge for the party, per Mr. Wests permission. From where he stood, he had a clear view of the Grand Hall. "Circuit, what’s the scoop on our three pretty boys??”  

”Records are coming up clean for each of them, not even so much as an unpaid parking ticket.” The excessively large flat screen television to Michaels right clicked to life, showing a several computer windows opened at once. They displayed everything from CCTV camera captures, stock market reports, receipts, and other tidbits of information. ”They also have a fascination with ancient artifacts.” Many of the files showed shipment manifests, coming from various remote locations, as well former Soviet States.  

“Typical trust fund children...” Michael walked towards the center of the room, where a half-square couch was placed, wrapped around a glass table, where Michael had his tools and gear out on display. He was ditching the tactical gear for this mission, sporting instead a very expensive looking gray and black three piece.  

The goal was to blend in with the party, get close enough to each of the boys for Circuit to transfer a bug to their phones, and search their personal belongings for anything incriminating.  

The gear he had laid out included a pack of black latex gloves, a cellphone, built to wirelessly force a bug onto a cellular device within three feet in a matter of 30 seconds, some small flash orbs, a hidden knife, lockpicking kit, and one of his pistols.  

Luckily, he didn’t need an elaborate backstory for this mission, as he knew the West family on a semi-professional, semi-personal level. During his days in the Bloodhounds, he and Mr. West worked together taking down an elusive Russian terrorist, who had been using West Shipping to smuggle weapons and explosives into Europe.  

After clearing the West family name, Michael went into a business deal with Mr. West, using his shipping company for logistics, transport, and even smuggling.  

Michael would receive an invite every time Lucy threw one of her parties, which she would claim was a thank you for helping her father, but it was obvious she had ulterior motives. Michael would decline each time, usually claiming to be too busy with work.  

This time, however, Mr. West approached Michael personally, asking for him to attend the party, with the task of gather intel on Lucys latest group of boytoys.  

As Michael was stashing his gear in their hidden pockets of his suit, the sound of a sudden downpour subtly filled the quiet room. “They said we were gonna have clear skies tonight.”  

”Yeah, news channels are going haywire, apparently this came out of nowhere.”

“Well, keep an eye on, it...” He adjusted the collar of his shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone, trying to give a casual vibe. “They’re gonna arrive via a yacht, which is most likely where they will be keeping anything they don’t want the public to see.”  

On the television, a live feed to Foyer popped up, showing a familiar group of people arriving to the party, drawing the guests attention. ”Okay, you cannot leave until you get me her autograph!!”

Michael rolled his eyes, smirking at his partners enthusiasm. “I’ll be sure to put it on my to-do list.”

”I’m not joking, you don’t get me one, and I’ll seize your shipments of that special coffee you get from Iraq.”

“You do know I am a professional killer, right??”  

”Yeah, and I am the only one you know who can hack a government VoIP system with a Macbook, while blindfolded, using only one hand, and is willing to work with you.”

Michael chuckled. “Alright, alright, you made your point.” He grabbed the cellphone, pocketing it, before stepping out of the private lounge, making his way down to the meet with Gigi and her band.

Samael felt out of place in this scene. High class homes with trust fund babies moving about , schmoozing around one another and talking about things that meant little to him.  This was something that Osiris had put him in the path of, though at this point he had worked for the family a few times when they had found themselves threatened by those a simple PI would have found trouble with. Lucy West was a girl he had interacted with. She reminded him well enough of those in her station he had interacted with before, though a few were even those he had dated before. It was quite obvious then they were using him to make their parents mad, and it worked. Lucy was not one of those trust fund kids.

Despite that he was sure to glamor himself before arriving. If the people knew he was something more than human, Samael didn’t want any of the visual indicators showing up. ”Don’t know how I feel about attending this thing,” He spoke hushed into his phone, eyes shrouded in glamor darting around the immediate room. They were forest green eyes, normaly compared to the light-less black ones that normally set themselves within his head. Humans looked at anyone who deviated from the norm as strange, so he covered even the feathers that grew along his neck with a layer of glamour, tactile even to allow the feel of only skin. These days such lies felt strange but necessary.  He had the feeling he already had so many eyes on him, contemplating and judging him as they always do.

Everyone had an air of mystery here. Like they had something, hiding just under the surface ready to be revealed.  So he kept away from everyone for now, talking when approached but otherwise simply staying where he was. Not many seemed too interested in trying to crack the shell he put up.  ”Don’t worry to much about it. You’ve attended worst,” Adam assured him on the other end of the line. It didn’t help too much.

”I have but you know these high society types can get,” He glanced at a few, the ones most suspicious for him.  Hopefully they weren’t as great threats as he thought. Money at times proved more deadly a weapon than any blade.

”Don’t worry too much about them. Something tells me you’re just sitting in the corner and not even talking to anyone,” He was half right.

”I talked to people,” His protest was weak.

”Did you start any conversations?” He rolled his eyes at the query.

”Obviously,”

”Well get back in there and talk more. You’re there for a reason and it has to be important,” Samael rolled his eyes, picking up one of the many drinks the place was furnished with. Who would be an interesting person to start up a conversation with? He traded a few more words with Adam and hung up, leaving his mind more focused on blending into everything. There had to be something he could do here. Most looked typical of the scene, save for perhaps a man who stood a few inches taller than him and seemed to have the build of someone used to hard work. Easy on the eyes too, though he couldn’t afford to let his mind wander far from work. This was a job after all, and he needed to keep serious.