The Bay ‘Plex is a single contiguous metropolis that extends from San Rafael in the North, through Berkeley, all the way to San Jose and Paulo Alto. Most of it glitters like sea glass on the Pacific coast. Of course San Fran itself is the jewel nestled in the middle of the crown. Even Orkland and Dwarftown have their charms.

But, if the Bay ‘Plex had an armpit it would be Pacifica. Sure, the views are spectacular, if you can ignore the polluted beaches and skeletons of failed capitalism.

Early in the 21st century, this place was the centre of the surfer universe. But when the big shaker hit in ‘56, the tsunami that followed washed about half of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch ashore in CalFree, most of it ended up on Rockaway Beach. Now the place is swarming with scavs and a shanty town has formed up around the edge of the debris. The Sharp Park Market has some great deals on weird finds and out here in the D-zone, there aren’t any rules about what can be bought and sold.

While the California Rangers keep the Coast Highway open for traffic during the day, at night it becomes a free for all; raceway, drag strip, go-gang battle ground - anything goes.

Out on the water, things go from bad to worse. Imperial Navy warships keep the automated cargo ships and blue water luxury cruise lines safe, but the the littorals are filled with pirates and smugglers running from Mori Point down to the black markets of the free city of LA.

To top it all off, in winter, it rains everyday.

As you switch off, the sound of the Mirage’s engine fades, echoing off San Pedro Rock. In the sudden silence of the coast, the only sound is the lapping of the ocean on the beach.  Back before you were born, this would have been the perfect spot for some sunglasses, suntan oil and one of those Jimmy Buffet Margaritaville machines.

But paradise has given way to the smell of waste petroleum, dead fish and rotting muck.

How the hell did you find yourself out here?

@Midori: you are here. How the hell did you find yourself out here?

Midori sat astride the faithful Mirage, pausing to look out at the horizon of floating junk through the mirrored visor of her helmet, which was thankfully also excellent at keeping noxious scents out of her immediate breathing air. She wasn't expecting anyone's presence right away: a clever shadowrunner, she never set up appointments to meet until she was already there and had assessed the situation. She couldn't afford getting her contacts jumped any more than she could get jumped. She had two connections to make: one real, and one ostensible reason for her journey.

Pulling her pocketsec out of her left breast pocket, she sent the first of two messages:

I'm at the shore, you know where to meet me.

This message was sent to her Bliss connection - the Coast Highway was perfect for moving all sorts of products, including those that made life a little easier. She knew her contact would take some time to get to her, so she'd sort out the real reason for her visit in the interim.

A second message went out, this time to a contact who had requested they meet somewhere off of the PCH. She sent a message with coordinates that she'd be able to see from her position along the coast and a message that said she'd be waiting for the next hour, no longer. If they took longer than that to get to her, they weren't local or they were dumb enough to get caught by someone on the way and neither of those options were desirable for Midori.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Fri 13 Oct 2023.

Moments tick by, waiting. Time always seems to move in slow motion when you’re waiting, and oddly, drug dealers aren’t known for their punctuality.  At least it’s not raining.

After a life time of listening to the foul water and watching the small fires burning in scav city, the silence is broken by the growling of street bike engines. From the PCH three headlights start making their way across the broken concrete of Rockaway Beach Ave. The riders picking their way carefully avoiding potholes and debris.

The anticipation of the score begins to take hold. A few moments more, a few nuyen on an untraceable credstick, the idea sets the heart racing.

One bike breaks away from the trio. Fresh off the showroom floor, a ‘60 Rapier making the distinctive whine of the new GSTR turbo.  Even without the benefit of streetlights, you know the bike will be painted red and white, the Rising Sun of the Empire emblazoned on the windscreen, just like the bike he trashed on that kill ride back in December.

Jimmy Ota, full-time lieutenant in San Fran’s most notorious go-gang, The Ronin. Like any career criminal Jimmy dips his toes in other pools, one of those being dealing prime pharma.

Switching off the bike, his voice calls out, ”Hoi omae, that you out there?”

Midori didn't seem to mind being on the coast, aside from the awful smell: while she'd come from a nicer place than this, she was just grateful it was the one place few people seemed to care she was a keeb. She put the kickstand for the bike down and swung her leg high off the back, patting the seat she'd been straddling to ensure the bike was solid before moving off towards where the Rapier sat on the broken pavement.

Hearing Jimmy's greeting made her smile and she flicked up her visor first to show him that it was, indeed, Midori in the flesh. There weren't many other five-foot-tall Elves willing to show their face this side of the Coast Highway without a bodyguard.

"Arctic bike, omae," Midori smiled warmly, her augmented eyes looking over the bike with obvious envy and pride that he'd done well for himself. She meandered his way, allowing his compatriots plenty of time to get a bead on her: it was just respectful, after all, when amongst friends.

"Gonna have to take me out on her one day," Midori teased, her eyes twinkling unnaturally, with small pink sparkles in the irises. She loved trying her luck and seeing what relationships she could build with the well-connected, and being a Face it was profitable to keep on everyone's good side.

Finally, within touching distance she unzipped her bike jacket, revealing a sequined croptop underneath, suggesting that her final destination that night was not back home but perhaps out to a club. The top clung to her figure attractively, but still obscured the weapons that Jimmy Ota would have known she had on her. From between her cleavage she pulled out a small silver credstick with a tiny star charm on it, though the elf didn't hand it directly to Ota. That wasn't how business was done, after all, and while she was more relaxed that she usually was, she was only a few metres from her bike and was ready to cut and dash should things go wrong.

"Thanks for meeting me here, looks like we got a break in the rain," Midori observed with a sweet smile. Talking about the weather meant that to her knowledge, she hadn't been tailed by anyone inconvenient, she'd given Jimmy the signal and hoped that he'd respond in turn, otherwise she was in danger.

You can almost feel the eyes of the two razors watching over Jimmy. Being a Ronin is dangerous biz and Jimmy never rides without some muscle to watch his six.

”Rain in the city today, but out here on the highway, nothing by clear skies, dry pavement and dangerous curves.” He says as his eyes flick to your gold sequins before locking into your pink sparkles. ”You like what you see?” he adds running his gloves hand over the Rapier’s seat suggestively. He is easily distracted…

…by the credstick you hold in your hand.

”Fuchi?” he says with great interest seeing the star on the credstick. ”Smart. Since the takeover their sticks are almost untraceable.” he muses, pulling out a small plastic bag. ”Ten pods, each good for six, maybe seven vape hits. This is nova hot, quality made in a Shiawase lab, not stepped on chem from some trog. But I’m sure you’ve got enough cred to slot for this.”

You do, but barely. This contact on the way better come with a pay day…

Midori visibly relaxes with Jimmy's friendly and harmlessly flirtatious nature: they had joked around with each other before and his behaviour was in line with what she knew of him. The manicured nails fondled the credstick before him, but behind the credstick was the pouting face of a pretty Elf.

"You're really gonna make a girl beg?" Midori smirked, hand on the hip of her tight bike leather pants. She leaned in towards Jimmy, lowering her voice so that way the razors could see she was harmless but they couldn't necessarily hear all the details. She leaned in, arching her back so only the upper half of her body was close to Jimmy, like she was going to whisper to him.

"Omae, I've got some business tonight and unless you want me sprawling in the barrens, you have to do better than that. How about I give you full price for eight and I owe you for the other two: creds or information. You know I'm good for it, Oniisan." Midori smiled as she referred to Jimmy as her 'big brother', an affectionate term which still showed quite a bit of respect for his position.

Midori tilted her dark head to the side, looking anxiously at Jimmy: he couldn't be seen as weak or easy to take advantage of, but Midori wasn't just anyone. Midori was a fiercely loyal shadowrunner and her intel was often valuable in a timely manner. If Jimmy was looking to advance in The Ronin, Midori could be a key piece of that puzzle if he kept the little elf happy. Plus, she hadn't asked for them for free, just to hold a few of her creds back until her next payday.

The razors would simply see Midori in front of Jimmy, as had happened often before, leaning in to speak to him personally. Her posture was deferential to the man and, while she still had the light tension in her body of being ready to spring away at a moment's notice, it was likely a hypervigilant subconscious reflex instead of her being worried about Jimmy or the other pair. Midori never looked like much of a threat, but that was what made her so valuable as a Face - that and her puppydog eyes were even more adorable in luminous pastels.

On the surface, it usually seems like you have the upper hand, but you’re too good at your job to believe your own hype. You know that oniisan lets you play him like a koto. Maybe he evens knows that you know.

But the dance is half of the fun.

Jimmy is a pro. Pros have ambitions. That’s why he loves cred more than he loves the flesh and he loves information more than he loves either.

Leaning back on his bike so you have to lean in even further. He slips the bag behind him, hiding it from you, letting the razors watch him play the big man. You’re good at reading people and know that he is using the moment to flex, but it’s not a flex directed at you. Your boundaries are clear and, despite your apparent submissiveness, you are dealing with each other as equals in a negotiation. You might look like you’re flirting, but neither of you has any doubts. You are ‘runner and a ganger who are talking shadow biz.

Otherwise, you’re almost doing Jimmy a solid by playing a convenient supporting cast member. The unspoken message, the flex, is directed toward his razor boy wingmen. It’s as clear as if he said it out loud: ‘Stick with me fellas, some perks are sure to come your way.’

”What kind of info are you offering, Midori-chan?” he says matching your quiet, playful tone.

Oniisan might let Midori play him like a koto, but Midori still had to dance to the music he made; after hearing his affectionate address of her, she did so happily. Smiling brightly and leaning over so the neckline of the loose crop top brushed against the front of Jimmy's clothes, she was willing to play her role, to arch her back and brush her fingers across Jimmy's chest as she spoke to him, twisting her hips playfully.

"You know I'll give you whatever you want," Midori purrs, keeping up the dance. Jimmy was handsome and dangerous, just the kind of guy Midori went for, but they had professional boundaries to respect and Jimmy being careful with her impressed the shadowrunner greatly.

"... for a fair price." Her words held the same deference for the man that he gave her, but there was no mistaking that she knew she was doing him a favour by letting him play the big man. She was an attractive elf, there was no doubt that even with the frothing, hateful rhetoric against metahumans that most would ignore her pointed ears for the chance to get close to her and she used that to her advantage whenever she could.

"Oniisan, you want me to have a good night tonight, don't you?" She purred teasingly, batting long eyelashes in his direction as she wiggled her hips.

"It's dangerous out here, you know." She added, as though either of them had ever forgotten the unspoken risk they were both taking. She was working tonight, which meant that creds could potentially get her out of a life or death situation should things go awry. While she was teasing, there was certainly an aspect of truth to her words.

"I'll let you have first pick of anything I come across at my next meeting, hm? I'll even deliver the details in person because you were so sweet to bring my stuff all the way here." Midori was nothing if not fair, and Jimmy could play it off like he was going to 'see' Midori later in whatever manner he chose.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:00, Fri 13 Oct 2023.

Jimmy lets his eyes drift over your body, watching the tight biker leathers reflect the moonlight as your hips swivel. Letting the loose collar of your top brush against him. But when he meets your gazes again, you have no doubt that  he is running the numbers. His hand resting on your hip is merely a fringe benefit of the negotiation, but his mind stays focussed on the biz.

”Yeah, I think we can take care of you,” Jimmy quips. ”Isn’t that right boys!” he adds calling over his shoulder.

Dropping his voice to the volume of hushed words between lovers, he whispers, ”Ten for eight is me at just about cost. That won’t square for me unless you bring me something I can really use.” he says passing you the bag and holding his hand out flat, waiting for the credstick.  ”First right of refusal on this one and the next.” he says with finality.

Midori nods, understanding the difficulty she was placing him in and appreciating that he'd offered her a good deal at the start. She doesn't mind Jimmy's hand on her hip, leaning into it gently so no one could accuse her of not playing the part fully.

"This one and the next," Midori agreed easily, knowing that Jimmy's goodwill was worth its weight in nuyen. "But you are gonna take me for a ride on her," she adds as she slides the credstick into Jimmy's hand, her silken fingertips running along his palm.

"I'll have something good for you," Midori promised with a genuine expression as she tucked the bag into her jacket. She offered him a wide hug and if he took it she'd give him a friendly squeeze.

"Once I'm back from this run I'll be in contact. In the meantime, stay safe omae.

Midori would remain where she was but would watch the three depart as though she was looking after family. Trust was precious and even if trust was on a superficial, business level, the Face treasured it. She knew it was inevitable that one day, her trust would be broken, she just didn't know how.

”I know you got something good for me,” Jimmy says, smacking your leather clad ass theatrically after he hugs you goodbye. ”And I know you’re good for it omae. Keep in touch Midori-chan.” he adds mounting his bike and revving the engine. ”And don’t cut any deals with dragons.”

In the wake of the Rapier’s departing exhaust, something in the back of your mind warns about counting on the goodwill of drug dealers. Wonders, perhaps, if that will be the treachery that one day burns you. That little voice is quickly silenced by the one telling it to shut the frag up so you can put this score to bed and hit that bliss pen.

Your wrist comp tells you that your prospective employer has fifteen minutes to make contact. You can see the front of what used to be Moonraker’s, formerly hot little surfer hangout, now a dark empty husk in the abandoned shell of the old Lighthouse Hotel.

Business before pleasure?

Midori yelped and laughed as she felt the firm hand on her ass, shoving at Jimmy playfully as she called him a scoundrel most affectionately. She tried to ignore the thought about counting on the goodwill of drug dealers, she always paid up when it was time. She'd have the creds or she'd pay... another way. For a pretty elf like her, there were always options. For a shadowrunner like herself, there were even more options. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if there was more truth to not dealing with dragons than the obvious.

Midori walked back to the Mirage and put her helmet back on, dropping the visor. She could hold off for fifteen minutes, she thought to herself, though she was tempted to explore the ruins of the Moonraker.

Jimmy being earlier than she'd expected would give her time to settle a few other plans for the evening. She knew two of the dancers at one of the clubs she frequented would pay quadruple for the Bliss, which would clear her debt in the unlikely circumstance this job yielded no valuable information. Business was business, and Midori knew hers; she didn't feel too badly as Jimmy got his in the end too: that little show they'd put on was worth more than the nuyen she'd make in this deal. Perception was everything in the underworld, and the more people that saw Jimmy as a big guy, the better it'd be for him. Of course, the same benefit could be applied to people who just saw her as a racial slur, whether because she was methuman or simply had Japanese parents, or those who only saw a Bliss addict. She knew that Jimmy Ota was the same: still waters run deep and if she judged him for being a drug dealer when he didn't judge her for being a shadowrunner was hypocrisy.

Hey girls, got some Bliss. Will be around later tonight, no tick.

Shadowrunning was a dog eat dog world and although her behaviour was ruthless it would have been understandable to anyone who had been in her position. Hell, Jimmy had tried to give her a hard luck story about wholesale cost on a new bike: come to think of it, they'd probably had a wholesale cost of zero because they'd been stolen during transport. She wouldn't hold it against him, of course. Everyone got what they could when they could, down to slapping Midori's soft ass as a goodbye.

If she wasn't careful, she might start enjoying her time with Jimmy more than she should, and that was dangerous: distractions were, well, distracting and... drek! The fifteen minutes had flown by. Midori kicked the kickstand up and walked the bike towards the road as she awaited the arrival of another vehicle carrying her contact.

Resolved that being Jimmy’s arm candy or paying up with a little side action is the worst case scenario, it’s not hard to work the angles. There’s no pressure, no desperation. The warmth on the skin beneath your leathers where his hand fell reminds you that Jimmy’s firm hand might be welcome in a few other places.

There are many far worse fates that could find a pretty little keeb, alone in the ‘plex, with a world of bad decisions arrayed before her. Tempting her, just like your friends at the other end of the phone. But being a blissed out joy girl, even a well cared for one, just isn’t going to cut it. You’re not ready to settle for that life yet, anyway. You turned to this life to be your own woman, to be in control of your own destiny, to get to the top of this game. That is the gold-star endgame.

That’s why you’re sitting in an abandoned building that stinks of dead fish and rotten garbage, waiting for someone who, like you, works for powerful people who don’t like to get their hands dirty.  And it looks like that someone is inching their way off the highway, a pair of headlights cutting through the night.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:55, Sat 14 Oct 2023.

Midori had never wanted to settle for the life of a joygirl, it just wasn't in her nature to allow herself to be used; that was why she got along with Jimmy so well. He might take the occasional liberty, but he saw her as an equal, not a pawn to be used for his personal pleasure. Anyhow, she knew what happened to those sorts of women when they got old, or lost their looks; things got real ugly for them real quick, unless they had a backup plan. Shadowrunning had been Midori's attempt to avoid that side of life.

Midori had fallen into the underworld accidentally, but now that she was here she had resolved to make the best of it: a little Bliss here and there was one thing, but she stayed away from heavier stuff - both selling it or taking it. She was an information broker and, since she didn't have the typical look of one, people were generally willing to give up more information than they would to someone who looked like the typical cold, calculating type.

Midori looked like a typical Japanese-American elf, aside from the strictly aesthetic tattoos and her eye implants, but even those just looked like they were there for the aesthetics. Midori wasn't the sort to let on what sort of weapons, let alone what sort of tech she was packing. So, as the headlights veered from the highway down to the long stretch of fetid coastline, Midori pulled out once the vehicle had passed. It gave her time to assess the number of visible people in the vehicle and the opportunity to get out of there if something felt off.

Of course, no one could ever anticipate all of the ways a situation could be 'off', so she was armed and had chosen a spot where she couldn't be ambushed. A rubble-strewn parking lot not far off the highway beckoned the car as the coordinates she'd released at the last minute, and if the car parked itself and Midori wasn't given any obvious signals this might be a trap, she'd pull in as well, on the driver's side far enough that even if someone swung the door out fully they wouldn't hit her precious bike.

She leaned over the tank of the bike, stretching as she prepared for the inevitable question: was she who she said she was, questions of creds and of information. Or, a tiny thought echoed in the back of her mind: was the inevitable something much worse, this time?

Pulling up beside the gleaming Toyota Elite, you’re almost surprised that your contact was able to make the meeting in time. You hadn’t given them much warning, after all.  Maybe you secretly wanted them to miss the meet, subconsciously looking for an excuse to hit that bliss vaporizer.

Astride your bike, sitting beside the car as it switches off its engine, you wait patiently for the driver’s door to open. Enough time passes that the moment stretches out. You wait. And wait.

Then a rear window slides down with a low electric whir. Glancing inside, you see the back seat of the luxury sedan is empty.  From within the softly lit, elegant interior, comes a voice, faintly distorted, as if coming through a bad satellite connection.

”Please get in Ms Midori. We have matters of great importance to discuss.” says a man’s voice. Despite the bad connection, you can tell he speaks absolutely flawless formal Japanese.

Noooooooope. Midori's instincts told her that the amount of nuyen on the table was absolutely not worth the risk.

"I know the routine, you ask nicely, then you tell me if I don't get in nicely, you're gonna have whatever goon you've hired to drive this shiny car here put me in the car. Let's skip all that and get to the part where I tell you I'm not going to a second location." Midori's Japanese softened the meaning of some of the terms behind respectful honorifics, but the meaning was clear: no self-respecting Face was going to abandon her vehicle for a cosy ride to wherever she was going to be murdered.

Midori had been in plenty of weird situations before as a Face, but her patience for no-shows, even if they sent an impressive car, was at an all time low.

Time was clearly of the essence for the contact, but it wasn't for Midori, at least not for the same reasons. She needed to know who she was dealing with but someone speaking Japanese well wasn't all that surprising for San Francisco. A rival team could have hired a local accountant to make the call, or worse, one of those metahuman hate groups that did things to her kind. Getting her ears clipped would be the least of her concerns if she was caught by one of them.

"Look, you're going to have to be more compelling than a polite request if you truly need to speak to me. Either nuyen or information I can use this very minute or I'm gone and finding me will be a considerably harder task than it was last time."

Never say never, but she knew how to go to ground if she needed it. She'd rather not burn Midori's reputation, but she'd rather survive as someone new than die as Midori.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:53, Sun 15 Oct 2023.

The voice in the back seat lets put a long, frustrated, vaguely paternal sigh. Sounding old, tired and very Japanese.

As you speak, unpacking your concern about a goon enabled kidnapping, the driver window goes down, revealing another empty seat. Then it dawns on you, the quick response to your admittedly unreasonable timeline, the janky connection, the empty car…

The Elite is being remotely operated.

”I did not say there would be a second location.” says the disembodied paternalistic voice. ”Feel free to open the hood, disable the engine. Shoot out the tires. Smash out the windows. Tear the doors off if that makes you feel more secure. The expense of losing the car is, inconsequential.”

The sigh reminded her of her father, the first time she'd been caught staying out all night with the boyfriend who introduced her to the underworld in Seattle. Midori tried to repress the feelings of shame and disappointment by reminding that the only reason she was alive was thinking of these insane circumstances that did, in fact, happen to Shadowrunners on a basis that the average suit would find jaw-dropping.

"Then consider the car payment for this nonsense," Midori answered, taking full advantage of the fact that her potential employer had disclosed he had nuyen to burn. Midori took the time to walk her Mirage to the front of the vehicle so the Toyota Elite wouldn't have room to accelerate without the added burden of a fairly heavy vehicle to overcome. She'd hate to lose her Mirage, but escaping with her life was priority number one. People didn't hire Shadowrunners for nice, easy work, they hired them because they were expendable and cheap - at least, compared to whatever payday they wanted.

A second vehicle, especially one that didn't link directly back to her would be a boon - hell, she could probably trade it to Jimmy Ota for all of the Bliss it would take to make her forget about whatever undoubtedly unpleasant task she would be asked to perform. She hoped the voice wouldn't balk - after all, not destroying the vehicle showed the sort of mind that someone hiring a Shadowrunner wanted: the ability to think on her feet and make the best of any situation.

After the Mirage was situated, Midori pulled her helmet off - although she would have preferred to keep it on for safety, the size of it made it difficult to tuck into any vehicle without bonking herself. She moved back to the original door where the window had opened and, careful to check for hypodermics under the door handle before using it, she used her leather-clad hand to open the door and slip into the car.

Midori was tense, but risk was part of Shadowrunning that she had to accept to do business. All she could do was trust her instincts to get her out of trouble in time.

"All right, if my terms are acceptable, please, begin."

”While the car is mine to replace, it is not mine to give.” he replies as you settle in and pull the heavy armored door closed. A door that betrays bulletproof glass and protection for the sedan’s occupants.

The leather inside is accented to match the paint. Some sort of cherry red with metallic flake. Full custom job. While the rear seats engulf the passenger in comfort, the front seats are completely utilitarian. Racing seats with three-point harnesses.  The difference between a first class passenger cabin on a suborb airliner and the pilot’s cabin.

”The vehicle is only in my service temporarily.” explains the elderly face on the trid-screen. The face of a healthy man over sixty, which, combined with today’s medical and magical healthcare options means he could be well into his nineties.  Sharp features, alert eyes, edges of his black hair greyed slightly, giving him a distinguished look. ”It is my understanding that the owner is rather possessive. Gifting it to you may be less of a boon and more of an encumbrance. But if you agree to operate under my employ, you will be generously compensated.”

"Then the value of the replacement will serve nicely," Midori answered smoothly as she shoved her helmet into the doorjamb to ensure the vehicle's door couldn't close completely to lock automatically. She wasn't above trashing it to prove a point if the older man refused to pay her what she'd asked for, not when arson was so easy, anyhow.

The car's interior was wiz but there was no need to go through all the trouble. It just didn't add up: why borrow someone's vehicle to hire a Shadowrunner? Most Shadowrunners scarcely cared what vehicle a client or their Mr. Johnson showed up in so it wasn't to impress her. Midori found the bulletproof glass was unnecessary: it was her firm opinion that good observational skills and a keen perception of when it was time to get out of there was more valuable than bulletproof glass. You didn't need it if you knew when to slot and run, in other words.

Speaking of, Midori leaned forwards to face the television panel. She knew she was likely being recorded and analysed in a dozen ways at the minute and talking to the video panel made sense to her.

"Lucky me," Midori stated flatly, as though it was a statement she'd heard as a boast too many times to get excited about the promise of money. "Well, tell me what you can tell me, I'll be the judge of whether your offer is generous."

Midori sat back in the seat of the car, her right foot on her helmet with her chin tucked to her chest as she watched the screen. She would listen to the entirety of the proposed situation and the compensation offer. Her eyes flicked to the road occasionally, checking on her Mirage and whether anyone else could be seen approaching the area where she and the driverless car had parked.

”I assure you that we are alone.” he says almost reading your thoughts, but missing by a narrow margin. ”The person who I employ to run this car is a professional. Like you. I have instructed them to leave us and trust that they have done so. They too are generously compensated.” he continues, hinting at the fact that you are not the only shadowrunner in the Bay ‘’Plex Sprawl under his potential employ.

You’ll need to speak to Pearlman about this Mr J, looks like there are few details that either he didn’t know about or didn’t tell you about. Either way, surprises are always unwelcome when it comes to shadow biz and your fixer will owe you one after this meet.

”So, if the posturing and bravado is purely for my benefit, you may dispense with it.” he continues with annoyingly familiar paternal firmness. ”Give me a moment please,” he says before cutting the connection. Then, returning after less than a minute, says ”I am now ready to discuss the details of you are.”

"I've heard that one before, too," Midori grumbled, waving her hand like the familiar paternal nature was bothering her. She didn't consciously realise she was bothered, but it brought to her subconscious mind countless tearful arguments with her father.

"Posturing? The pot calling the kettle black. I wasn't the one that sent a top-shelf custom car you just happen to imply was being driven by a Shadowrunner. Tell me what the job is."

Pearlman was going to get a visit after Midori was finished with the prospective client, she thought irritably. If he'd done this on purpose he was going to find himself limping for a week. Some people only understood the language of violence and if Midori had been given drek for intel, there would be a lesson to be learned.

Midori finally lapsed into silence to listen to details, curling into the seat kittenishly. For all her sound and fury, she was almost doll-like in the roque interior. She really could go for some of the Bliss in her pocket...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:17, Mon 16 Oct 2023.

”Ah, I see now.” he replied patiently. ”It may surprise you to learn that North America is not the centre of the universe. As fast as suborbs travel, it did not seem likely that I would make it in time when you provided a mere hour of notice to arrange this meeting. I have relied on an associate who has worked for me in the past.  This is what that associate happens to drive.” he explained. ”I assure you that what you perceive as posturing was brought about solely as necessity based on the situation.”

”We do not know each other Ms Midori, so I offer this explanation with hope that it contributes to trust between us. Or perhaps, if nothing else, my volunteering this information will yield mutual respect.” he says forthrightly. ”The details I am about to provide demand a certain degree of confidence in each other’s discretion.”

Tell it to them straight:

Three pictures flash up in the screen. The first is a young Japanese woman. the second is the same woman, who appears to have undergone the transformation from human to elf. She is in a wedding gown beside a caucasian man in the military uniform of the California Republic. The third, a teenage girl, maybe thirteen. ”My daughter. She experienced kawaru soon after the magic returned. One of the earliest in Nippon.” Kawaru the Japanese called it, a pretty euphemism for something many of them found repugnant and dishonourable. ”it was a tumultuous time. Her change brought shame upon our family. I am regretful that she felt that to shield us from the burden, she had to run away from the home islands. To San Fransisco. There she married into a lower family. With her American husband, she bore a daughter. My granddaughter the child you see in the final photo.” he is words are tinged with sadness.

”My granddaughter underwent kowaru on her eighteenth birthday.  While she does not carry the same feelings of shame that burdened my daughter, she too has run away from home. She has disappeared but I am led to believe that she remains somewhere in the Bay Area. I will pay you one hundred thousand nuyen if you can locate my granddaughter and see to her safe return to the home islands.”

Midori seemed surprised when she learned the reason for the car, but she realised a way this could work out for them both and nodded agreeably, finally getting what the man was about. She leaned forward, immediately looking interested when the older man said that this associate drove this vehicle. This associate. This vehicle that could get to her in an hour. That meant she had a competitor in the area who drove THIS car. The Face had an obvious choice to make.

"I get a feeling you've told me the truth. If that is the truth then I wouldn't bill you for the expense of the car if I took the job. I would ask that, in exchange for not billing you and for returning the car, unharmed, you permit me to meet this associate. Since you have been honest, I will be also: I have an interest in meeting potential... mutual friends, purely non-violent, of course. All I am asking for is a meeting, tonight. Tell him whatever you must to get him to meet me." It was hard to try and twist the arm of the grandfather to get a new contact, but Sbadowrunning was hard and being a Face was doubly so: you had to stick your neck on the line to drum up new business while the rest of your team could take the much safer infiltration after full intel option. There were just as many ways to die before the job as there was during, but you had no guarantee of knowing who was on your side before the job. At least once you'd been given the job, your employer's choice became the enemy.

"A runaway that doesn't want to be found is like smoke on a foggy day," Midori pointed out; what the old man was asking for was possible, albeit barely. When she was the granddaughter's age she'd had a network that could have hidden her from anyone she didn't want to find her. But Midori had a few ways of searching for women like that and she had a feeling that this was why she had been selected in particular. How did he know anything about her identity if he lived overseas? Had someone recommended her? The associate who owned this vehicle? Was it someone she'd worked with in the past? Barney Kwo, maybe. He made enough money as a street doc that he could have a fleet of these: he patched up Shadowrunners no questions asked and had the unusual quality amongst streetdocs in that groups to be, well, competent. A doc like that made money hand over fist.

"Do you want to know what I find out, whether it's good news, or bad news? For instance, if she has passed..." Midori spoke gently, with newfound respect for her elder. Some families simply wanted to know if there was a possibility of seeing their missing loved one once more, they didn't want details on how their loved one met their fate or how they were identified by their DNA being found in a sicko's fridge.

Adding to the flavour of the narrative a bit, 100,000¥ is something like twenty times what a runner of Midori’s calibre might pull down on a standard job.

Not that Mr J seems hard up for the cred… just thought it might add some dramatic effect.

[[RETCONNED FOR:]]

Suddenly, it all made sense: the car, the expense, and Midori found herself surprised in a manner that even she, proud of her ability to think of most outcomes relevant to her job, had not foreseen: someone who wanted someone found for good reasons, not because they were to be silence or otherwise harmed. Her digital pupils flared briefly and a look of equal parts comprehension and humiliation for the blindspot she held for families who had been like her parents: gentle people who wanted the best for their family, or to make up for a past hurt. Cynical, perhaps, but as a Shadowrunner she encountered so few like her beloved parents that it hadn't even registered as a possibility.

"O-wabi no kotoba mo gozaimasen ," the young Japanese-American apologised deeply. The grandfather had been beyond patient while she'd been talking to him like another like herself: someone who understood that speaking earnestly to a Shadowrunner was tantamount to asking to be robbed in most places - while not all were willing to sink to such depths, enough were, especially for the sort of money that she'd been offered for the contract, that it was charmingly called "chumming the waters", an apt observation when one considered it referred to befriending as well as having the implication about sharks.

Midori kept her eyes respectfully averted for the rest of the time the pair spoke, though she did not attempt to bargain the price of the run down. She didn't know what she might be getting herself into, and if the price might be reasonable for some reason unknown to her.

"I sympathise with the situation of your granddaughter," she began, a hesitation in her tone that suggested this was not a conversation she often had to have. "Your enthusiasm for finding her is commendable, but I must speak honestly with you: a young woman of that age is difficult to find if she does not wish to be found. Regardless of the reason for her departure, you could spend that nuyen and find yourself chasing shadows. I am not attempting to bargain with you, I am trying to prepare you for the fact that even heartbreak is not the worst possible outcome in a situation like this."

It was a bitter pill to swallow for people who sought their families sometimes and Midori felt it best to warn the older man that sometimes the search outlived the searcher.

”I have considered what you are saying and cannot eliminate the possibility that the worst has happened.” he says slowly, careful to control his emotions. ”There are a few threads that can be investigated and I hope that your insights into this situation will serve you well.”

”My daughter and I are not close.” he continues. ”Much of what I have ascertained comes from the agent whom we spoke about. Surveillance. It is an ugly practice, but one that I am relegated to under these trying circumstances. I am optimistic that your talents might allow you to get closer to her, might help you gain information that I am unable to glean from afar.”

Midori listened to the words of the grandfather and pondered for a few moments. There were a lot of things about this scenario she still didn't like, but she was willing to make exceptions in this case - not because of the amount of nuyen involved, though it wouldn't hurt if the older man actually intended to make good on his offer, but the fact that she'd done something similar to her parents. Guilt uncoiled in the pit of her stomach, but she knew that her parents were safer if she let them live their lives as they were. Friends and family of Shadowrunners were too often a target.

"A runner with these sort of resources should be able to find her if she wants to be found," Midori answered, gesturing to the plush surroundings of the vehicle. "But I appreciate your faith in my abilities, Tanaka-san. I understand that there are certain places I can venture which others may... struggle with being as discreet in."

Midori lapsed into silence for a few moments, still concerned about the connection with the owner of the vehicle, her Tanaka-san and herself. Either she was known to this person already, or she was about to be. She knew she wouldn't be getting much more information without agreeing to the job, but she'd seen the struggle on the older gentleman's face - if he wasn't earnestly upset about his granddaughter's disappearance, he was a good actor.

"If I take this job on, I will need access to all of the information that you've had this agent gather so far, otherwise we risk wasting time by my investigations replicating theirs. I would prefer a face-to-face meeting so I can ask the questions I need to without a risk of details being lost." Midori wanted to figure out who this big fish was and whether she was seen as a threat or a potential ally.

"I appreciate that someone has connected us, Tanaka-san, and for my own survival I need to understand why they have done so, particularly someone with this level of resources."

Midori was willing to take the job, but she wanted to know whether she was being offered it because she'd annoyed someone with the power to put her in a deadly position, using the lure of a big payday to silence her normal concerns or whether she'd been noticed by a big fish in the area and just happened to have similar enough aesthetics to the missing woman to be of use or whether it was a third, secret thing. It was bold to ask outright for a meeting, but if this Tanaka-san had done his research, he'd know that Midori's bread and butter were connections she had and it made sense she'd want to make another when the opportunity arose.

”My associate, the one who possesses the car, is good at what she does, but what she does is not finding runaways.” he replies. ”You will pardon my boldness, but you are much more likely to put my daughter at ease.  I fear that she may not react well to my involvement and your talents are, as you say, more discreet. Through guile or by striking the right balance of sympathy and confidence in your capability, I believe you may strike a rapport with her. My daughter would not react as well to my other associates.”

He seems entirely unsurprised by your probing questions and simply nods as a reply, ”Excuse me a moment. I will not be long.” he adds, leaving you alone with a blank screen and your thoughts.

True to his word, he returns a short while later. ”A meeting can be arranged. You will receive a message from her through the same channels that this meeting was arranged. On the chip in the center console you will find the information we have gained this far. A discerning eye more familiar with the city may find some useful information that my ignorance has caused me to overlook.”

"Thank you. I will allow the car to be returned, unharmed, as a gesture of my goodwill towards this meeting," Midori spoke carefully. She shouldn't have been surprised that the other runner was female, but she met very few other gearheads who liked custom vehicles as she did her Mirage.

Midori reached forward for the chip and held it to the screen so he could see she'd taken it and nothing else. They were at a critical point in the negotiation, though Tanaka-san had let it slip he had associates - plural - which meant he was not as ignorant of the world of Shadowrunning as a normal concerned parent might be.

"I understand," Midori responded with regards to putting his daughter at ease. She could list the reasons why, and very few of them tended towards her appearance or ethnicity - after all, a Face like herself was better for delicate work than a razorgirl or whatever the runner whose car she was sitting in was actually like.

"With respect, Tanaka-san, I can find her but only you can make her come home. I will deliver the details of her location, but I am making this clear now: kidnapping does not encourage a harmonious family relationship and costs extra, besides. To do this properly, you must understand the reason why she left in the first place, or she will keep running. I will review the file you've given me and be in contact once I have made some enquiries. Your instincts regarding your family will be paramount to the success of this operation."

Midori was happy enough with the circumstances that she was willing to accept the job. Unfortunately, this had yielded very little information for Jimmy and she might have to ask him for further favours besides: his network of go-gang connections prowled the streets nearly every night and Midori knew how lucrative being a young elf woman, especially with Japanese heritage, could be if you were in dire need of money. Unfortunately, that meant that for this evening, she'd be slumming.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:17, Thu 19 Oct 2023.

”I accept your insight about how we may manage our family dynamic in the future with utmost gratitude.” he says affably. ”But I will not mince words. The task, Midori-san, is to see that she comes to the home islands.” he says firmly, but not unkindly. ”She is not to be harmed. Beyond that, you have a great deal of leeway in how this is accomplished, but my granddaughter must come to Nippon. I am certain that you can be very persuasive, or perhaps deceptive. I am open to being a participant if it is decided that my direct involvement is necessary or may prove helpful. You need only call.”

So there it was. There was the reason the pay day on this run was a solid six-figures. Finding the girl wouldn’t be enough to collect that payday. There was no knowing what the runaway would do when the news came that she was going to Japan to be with the grandfather she didn’t even know. It might take lies, bribes or outright force to make it happen.

Unable to predict how the endgame would play out gives the gig a sour taste, but the fact of the matter was that there was a teenage elf out there right now who probably had no good options. Every night she spent as a sprawl runaway turned her odds from bad to worse. Finding her was the right thing to do, even if it might have to be followed up with some nastiness.  Beyond that, given his connections to the Bay ‘Plex shadows, it might be in the girl’s best interest for you to handle things directly. Tanaka-sama’s associates may not be inclined to manage matters as delicately as you may.

Anyway, at this point it’s all conjecture. Maybe getting her to her grandfather might not be the girl’s first choice, but at least she would be alive and safe. And who knows, maybe the promise of wealth and safety will be more than enough to convince her to go willingly.

Midori bowed at the confirmation of her task, her stomach churning at the thought of having to clip this free bird's wings. Still, there was a warmth she hadn't expected when Tanaka-san called her Midori-san; she remembered her father and her grandfather who was in the old country as well. She couldn't afford to let her personal feelings get in the way of the task at hand so she swallowed and nodded.

"Thank you, Tanaka-san. I will return your granddaughter to you and contact you once more once I have transportation details for her. I cannot guarantee the method yet as it depends on her willingness, but harm and distress will be avoided." Midori spoke gently, not knowing if the man simply planned to harm her once she was in Japan, but having little choice either way.

Midori gave a deep bow to the man, deeper than she would to a client had he not reminded her of her grandfather. She felt a deep significance in this mission and knew it was a Rubicon, she simply couldn't see the other shore of the river yet.

But she had news and names, and that was what the Face was about.

"Contact me using these details going forward, the number is forwarded directly to me," Midori offered her contact details to the screen using her pocsec, and then she deposited both her pocsec and the chip containing the data into her left breast pocket.

Respectful adieus aside, Midori would exit the vehicle and realise she was shaking all over. She cursed herself for the weakness she'd shown, knowing that a hit of Bliss would make all this go away. She needed to go undercover anyhow, she decided, which meant looking like a good-time girl while she prowled the streets for the runaway. After all, people who had a taste for Midori likely would have had a taste for the granddaughter and being on the streets forced people to do things they would not otherwise consent to.

Midori inserted the chip into her helmet before putting her helmet back on, the helmet had an HUD and displayed images discreetly in a transparent window controlled by her enhanced corneas. She went back to the Mirage and straddled the vehicle, grateful for the power between her thighs as she revved the engine, the purring noise leaving her aching for the open road.

Instead, Midori headed towards the edge of the red light district. She doubted that the granddaughter was selling herself, but she knew there were some strip clubs where the only ID they wanted to see was how you looked in a bikini. She'd start there, perhaps one of the bouncers had some information for her.

She owed Jimmy Ota some information and made a mental note to find something good for him, that would please him even more than the creds would.

Heart racing, Midori leaned down over the powerful machine and rode onto the open highway, her long, black braid flying behind her as she navigated the treacherous evening Coast Highway. There was work to do.

Crunching gravel beneath your tires, you head north, leaving the stinking fog of the PCH behind angling toward the glittering lights and glass towers that kiss the distant night sky.

As you move through the ‘plex you can see the checkpoints and searchlights that ring the Financial District Human Cultural Zone. This is, by far, the area of the ‘plex where the Imps have the firmest grip. There is a certain irony, that right next door are the streets of Chinatown and the Red Light District on Broadway.

It’s not open revolt like it is out in Orkland, but both communities have quietly, effectively, resisted Imperial dominance. Sure, folks have to deal with periodic ID checks and shadier business have to pay protection to the bigger clans, but the sararimen who like to spend nights out slumming help keep the nuyen flowing and whisper their right words in the right ears to keep i-marine crackdowns to a minimum.

Under the shadow of the 160-floors of the Mitsuhama skyraker, merely 12-blocks away, Broadway is teeming with people.  The street is awash in the colorful neon lights of Capone’s, Redtail’s and Cabaret de la Nuit. Bikes and cars cruise the short strip, gleaming performative wealth. Sixty foot tall holograms of barely dressed buxom women, and more than a few well muscled men, cavort in the air above the street. Signs and augmented reality tags cry out for customers promising the offer of whatever vice suits your needs.

For a naïve young woman who has run out of options, this might be just the place to find a ‘friendly’ face…

Midori inhaled softly as she guided her Mirage down the crowded streets of Broadway. She was reviewing the information on the chip as she rode, looking for any hint to the reason for the girl's disappearance as it would give her an angle if, in some unlikely circumstances, she was able to find her. Midori steeled herself for a long investigation, however - while the girl wasn't a pro, there would undoubtedly be competing interests involved: a boyfriend, perhaps, an employer (legitimate or otherwise).

Still, the beauty of modern communication was that she didn't have to be several places at once. Composing a message to those who were (somewhat trusted) and likely to have seen a new face in her area, she wrote:

Any new faces in your area lately? Need info regarding any newcomers who match the spec: [female, elf, Japanese, young].

The message sent off during the periods where she had to walk the bike through traffic, she went to the safest place for her to park the bike and expect it to be there, untrashed, on her return. She would walk the streets of Broadway looking like a normal tourist with her helmet stowed in a pannier and her leathers rolled carefully into the pannier on the opposite side, revealing her sparkly cropped camisole and tight wet-look leggings. Paired with a long silken wrap and some cheap silver hoops she almost looked like she fit in, if one ignored the fact that her posture was not that of a drunken reveller.

If she had success parking the Mirage and ensuring the security features were set, she would make her way towards Cabaret de la Nuit: she had a few minor reasons for starting there, but overall it was simply that she had a feeling it was the right place to be. If she started questioning her own instincts, she was dead in the water.

Steeling herself against the nearly inevitable barrage of insults from people who hated metahumans, Imps and/or the Japanese, she hoped she would be able to keep a relatively low profile for now, but attract enough notice that anyone who had seen another like her might ask if she was a relative.

Scanning the material on the data chip, you pick up on a few noteworthy things:

The neighbourhood. There are several more surveillance pictures of Mio (the granddaughter). You recognize the address and the photos confirm that she was living in the upper-middle-class neighborhood of Sunset. There are several pictures near the Golden Gate Academy and the street car station at Sunset and Travale.  That’s a bit out of the way from Mio’s address and preparatory academy near Mount Sutro.

The boyfriend. There are a couple of pictures from surveillance cameras at Renraku Park during a Giants game. At the game, she is canoodling with an unnamed teenage boy.

The Club. Mio’s parents, Ankeo (who goes by Annie) and Patrick, go to a health club in Outer Sunset together every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Kowaru. Not one picture of Mio shows her after her transformation.

Your mind is running over these observations and oddities as you step into Caberet de la Nuit. The air in the club is hot, damp and thick, smelling of sweat and perfume. The crowd is an even mix of corps, tourists, locals and criminal opportunists.

It’s the perfect place for a young and impressionable girl to make a huge mistake…

Midori looked over the information, pondering each detail in turn. There was a common connection between all of the details of Mio's life. The boy was the most obvious detail because Midori could have been in a similar picture years ago, but she would have been pillion on the back of the first motorcycle she'd ever ridden, her go-gang boyfriend just rebellious enough to piss off Hana and Kenji, who were proud that their daughter had at least chosen a Japanese boyfriend, but irritated that he was a punk.

Midori shook her head, returning to the present where she was wearing her helmet, on her own motorcycle, with her first boyfriend Jun six feet under after a drug deal gone wrong. It happened, Midori was shaken loose from the organised criminal world and fell into Shadowrunning as an alternative to dancing some place like this herself.

Being a Face was a different side to Shadowrunning, the side that represented exposure to the light: one had to be know others and be willing to be known to be a Face effectively. For instance, while most Shadowrunners operated in stealth, Midori was scanning the crowd for people to speak with, in the following order:

1. Anyone she had a personal past with (especially if she had useful information for them)
2. Other Shadowrunners she'd seen on other runs
3. Anyone she recognises from a positively-affiliated go-gang
4. Anyone checking her out

She had a lot of options of where to start her investigation, but the smartest Faces knew the key to their job was to RTFR: Read The Fragging Room. The evening would reveal her personality soon enough: were people restless, celebratory, frantic? Once she adopted the mannerisms of those around her, she would glide through the night, hiding in plain sight.

The music on the club level is kept loud enough to discourage conversation and encourage bad decisions. Somehow you know intuitively that elsewhere in the building there are quieter spaces where the right customers with the right cred can find a quiet place to make their bad decisions worse.

Scanning the crowd, you catch sight of someone you would never expect to be slumming among the tourists, sararimen and criminal wannabes. Faeranduil Morwyn beautiful, elegant, paragon on the Bay ‘Plex social scene and the son of the Tir Tairngire ambassador to Cal Free. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the ambassador maintains a residence in San Fran in addition to the embassy in Sacramento, an open acknowledgement of the real seat of power. He doesn't hold much sway on his own, but if you make kissy faces at him, he can make a few calls and get paydata. Elves in this town need to look after their own.

Speaking of elves needing to look after their own, it’s odd to spot yet another elf in the crowd, although this part of the ‘plex focusses on maintaining a tourist friendly faux seedy feel, so letting some of the riff-raft in plays to the right ambiance. You don’t know her personally, but you sometimes catch sight of her in the Tenderloin. She sports a gutter punk haircut and some kind of arcane tattoo on the side of her skull. She is a spell slinger of some sort. Despite the trappings of seediness, this is actually a relatively safe space for runners to let their hair down a bit without fear of a black ops team or a rival in working for the other side. That must be what brings her here tonight, unless of course she is on the job.

Choices... choices... they were difficult to make when the options were so tantalising. Midori needed paydata but another runner's observations about the venue and surroundings could be priceless. There was only one choice to be made: Midori first flagged down a waitress and ordered a drink for Faeranduil Morwyn, a vivid green melon liqueur sour with a shot of Taéngelé. There was a message, if the ambassador's son was clever enough to get it.

Midori awaited the drink's delivery to Faeranduil Morwyn, whose ethereal nature and beauty was absolutely the sort that Midori would pursue for personal reasons if she wasn't on the job. But she was, and that meant work... but she didn't have to dislike it. As the waitress pointed out who had bought the drink, Midori offered a slow, sensual smile and a single blown kiss. Before Faeranduil had a chance to react, she'd turn on her heel and attempt to disappear into the crowd.

She wanted to speak to the Shadowrunner before time ran out, and she had a feeling Faeranduil Morwyn would wait. He would have his entourage, after all, whereas the time with the Shadowrunner could be on a clock Midori didn't know about.

Midori would sidle up to the gutterpunk elf casually, letting the elf take a good look at her and the fact that she was mostly unarmed and there for a benign reason. Her cropped sequinned top showed off the curls of Midori's rib tattoo that stretched to her hip, but didn't quite show what it was. Midori's tattoos had an ethereal glow as well, but were just there for looks.

"Nice tat, did you do the work yourself?" Midori asked, as though they were already in mid conversation. One delicate hand moved to lift her shirt to expose her stomach and most of the rest of her tattoo. "I've got some work done too, but I'm too much of a chicken to get my head done. Just in case they miss," Midori grinned wickedly. She hoped the commonality would at least get an acknowledgement from the gutterpunk. If not, a round of whiskey typically did.

Midori was relaxed, but she maintained readiness in the environment, her posture suggesting she was open and available to speak to, there to have a good time and little else. She lowered her top to cover herself again and maintained a nice, easy distance from the other elf as she waited for an answer.

The waitress moves at glacial speed as you wait with anticipation, timing your first impression perfectly.  Faeranduil accepts the drink, barely looking up at the waitress, giving your seductive smile and coquettish nod a dazzling smile in reply before he downs the glass in a single gulp. Then, as you turn away, so does he, slipping back into partying with his entourage.

He moves so smoothly, with confidence but without an overwhelming sense of ego. Clearly he has done this kind of dance before. You will have your work cut out for you with this one. What fun!

The elven witch is different story entirely. Where Faeranduil exudes elven panache, she seems so reserved. You’re no magician, not even really sensitive to that part of the sixth world, so you have to wonder if rumors can be believed. They say this elf slings as much mana as any ‘runner in the ‘plex. But she so reserved.

Despite the wild hair, the torn fishnets, chunky boots and tattoos, she has delicate elven features. Her naturally blonde hair and soft violet eyes are as enticing as anyone of elven heritage. But, she is so inexplicably shy. As you speak with her, it’s immediately apparent that her gutter punk exterior is meant to keep people away. Not because she is antisocial, just to discourage people because she prefers the solitude. ”No, I got mine done in Seattle, she replies, shouting over the music. As you lift your shirt she gives you a once over, maybe letting her gaze longer a moment longer than you might expect, but then averting here eyes, suddenly finding something else that she needs to look at intensely.  ”That’s really great ink. Is it bioluminescent? I’ve read about inks that change colour based on your mood.” she adds meeting your eyes, then looking away.

Faeranduil's smile dazzled even the relatively skeptical Midori, and she couldn't help but smile genuinely in return, her animated pupils dancing in a brief sparkly pattern. Midori was surprised that she had felt such a rush when seeing the elf, but if she was being honest with herself, it was probably a lot to do with the fact that he, like her, was an elf. She was grateful that he had turned away so quickly, sometimes it paid to be concise with one's message. She'd definitely catch up with him later, she decided.

The shyness of the elven woman failed to deter Midori, whose personality immediately became the bubbly yet cool sorority girl to overcome the initial discomfort of having to foist the conversation upon the beautiful elven woman. Inviting herself to the party was something that Midori had perfected in her years working as a Face.

"I dunno, I think it's technically mana-based but it is still my skin, so that counts as bioluminescent, right?" Midori giggled, actually giving the true origin story of her ink for once. She was fishing, admittedly, and admitting that she knew someone magically powerful enough to permanently alter her form, but to the right person, it would be a signal.

"Seattle, huh? Got sick of the rainy weather and wanted to come somewhere warmer?" Midori teased, noting the way the elf's beautiful violet eyes followed her hand as she exposed her ribcage. She kept her hips moving in a figure-eight pattern in time with the music, trying to be a good sport when it came to the dancing part of clubbing, but her digital eyes were fixed benignly on the elf.

"How long you been here? You here to stay, or break hearts and split?" Midori was overtly flirting now, but in a teasing, casual way that sounded like a compliment more than a genuine concern. Midori gestured to the space beside the blonde and smiled, wordlessly asking to join her.

The elven witch’s eyes follow your hips through their figure-eight for a moment longer than proprietary would allow in any circumstances outside a Broadway Avenue flesh market like this one. ”I left more than the rain behind in Seattle,” she replies. ”I’m not sure if San Fran will be home or just another waypoint in the road.” she adds brushing aside a stray blonde hair, revealing a neon green anarchy “A” tattoo on the back of her right hand.

Accepting your invitation, she steps in closer, but her eyes keep flicking away to something or someone else in the crowd. ”I don’t come to this part of the ‘plex often,” she says. ”This place is crawling with wage slaves and corp law trying to look discreet.” she adds, with a nod to a group of businessmen and women pouring cred into a data term mounted at their table, enough to keep the wrapt attention of a trio of dancers. ”Is it always like this?”

Midori relished being looked at and held her hands out invitingly for the woman to start dancing with her, making a scene was sometimes the way to do subtle work. People saw what they wanted to see, after all, and if it was two pretty elves dancing they wouldn't assume shadowrunning was the topic of conversation.

"Mmmh, well, let me be the first to welcome you to San Fran. I'm Midori," Midori adopted a funny little ceremonial attitude as though she was the mayor of San Fran. "And its like this a lot, but it doesn't have to be. I know the area, if you're looking for something... more specific."

Midori's movements were languid and affectionate with the other woman, as though she was making a purposeful effort to demonstrate she wasn't a threat, but a resource. She twigged that the woman was a member of the Ancients, and wondered if she was here for trouble. Midori tried to remain on neutral to good terms with all of the gangs, but friendships did form and she certainly was biased about her feelings on power structures and leaders, so she wasn't entirely impartial.

"Mmmh, this one's special, I bet," Midori gently traced the back of the other woman's hand with a fingertip softly, telling her she knew and understood. "If you're here on business, I might know a guy who knows a guy. If you're here on pleasure..." Midori paused, a knowing smile on her lips, dancing close to the witch fearlessly. "I'm certain I can help you find what you're looking for."

Those words were almost like a catchphrase for Midori, or a magic key, because they were so useful: everyone was looking for something and at that point, to those in the know, she was also obviously a Face or similarly employed as a fixer of some variety. Though her dancing skills suggested she may have spent some time in one or more of the strip clubs in the area; if she had, she hadn't danced under the name Midori.

"Tell me, what can I do to make your night better?" The question was utterly commanding, but it was delivered by a short Japanese elf in a glittery top with a crooked grin on her face, so it came across as a bit of a tease rather than coming on to her properly. Midori's eyes followed the elven witch's movements to see if her heart was in dancing or if it was more likely she was there on business.

”Another time, another place.” she says as you fingers pass over the Ancients’ tattoo while her hand slides over the tattoo on your hip in reply. With a subtle flick of her wrist, the green “A” is gone, the ink shifting into a black “X”. ”That kind of biz is behind me. At least for now.” she continues, letting herself slip into your arms, letting her hips follow yours in a languid arc as you sway to the pulsing rhythm.

But in her movement, there is a certain reluctance, borne of her inherent shyness and something else that betrays her intentions. As her eyes keep scanning the room, you know that she is here for biz.

”What would really make my night” she replies, emphasizing her words with the press of her hips and a smile, ”Is a little more of this. But my time is not my own. I may have to cut and run. Fair warning,” she adds, her warm breath on your ear, ”We can all use friends, right? Just don’t be offended, OK?”

The witch seems interesting and might be able to use a hand with whatever biz she is running, but the clock is ticking for Mio. Could you parlay help with her run into help with yours? Or just let this slip by and get on the case finding Mio?

The shyness doesn't bother Midori, she rolls her hips to meet the other elf's with a sigh of relief. The rhythm of biz, of being in tune with another like herself is one of the most intoxicating things for Midori: of someone knowing her, seeing her for who she was fully. She'd only had one partner who knew what she did and didn't mind after the guy who got her into Shadowrunning and last she knew, he was a street doc up in Seattle, making more money than he knew to do with installing cyberware of high quality but dubious legality on those who had the nuyen. He never minded the late calls or the cancellations because the demands of his business forced him to do the same and he got clinical-grade pharma for her. Just like she was about to have tonight, thanks to a certain go-ganger she knew.

Her arms slip around the blonde elf and she giggles as she smooths her body along her waist and hips.

"So you are here to break hearts," Midori teased, her body sliding softly against the witch while she kept an eye on her peripherals. She might be focused on the elven woman at the moment but she never lost track of the fact that her life was a performance while she worked.

Everything Midori did was calculated - even now, grinding on a beauty of an elven woman in a busy club had three different motivations: to establish an obvious desire for elven women that those who sold their services might approach her, to establish a working relationship with the witch and see if she can get and useful information and lastly, because she did her best work when she was genuinely enjoying herself.

"I'd like to be your friend," Midori purred back into her ear. "Tell me how I can help."

Laurie was sure that her dance partner could feel her heart pounding through her chest. Sure that the beautiful Japanese elf felt it skip a beat when she had whispered that she would like to be her friend.

The past few moments were a blur.  Ever since the old days, Laurie had steered clear of drugs and alcohol, save a few sips of ritual wine when in the circle with the sisters. Her mind was unclouded but still she swayed to the intoxicating rhythm of the music, giving way to the sensual dancing but daring not lose herself in the heat of the club and the soft pressure of the woman in her arms.

How long has it been, Laur? she asked herself, trying not to focus on the lush sensations enveloping her own rolling hips. There was work to be done and although she let her own arms slip around her petite dance partner, she gritted her teeth and put her game face on.

”The wage slaves I pointed out earlier,” she whispered back, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her shyness or her growing desire. ”My life would be much easier if I could get my hands on a pass card one of them has in his pocket. My intel says they go for this kind of thing.” she added staying pressed against Midori, hips to hips, chest to chest. ”I’m hoping we got their attention.”

"Who doesn't go for this sort of thing?" Midori grinned reassuringly, even if the intel wasn't perfect, that didn't mean they couldn't improv. Midori was there on business anyhow, so she wasn't going to take things much further with Laurie than she had with Jimmy. Even if she did use her body for business, there was a line and Midori was surprisingly consistent with it.

"We'll get their attention," Midori murmured as she used the general chaos of the dancefloor to lead Laurie so the couple was in the peripheral vision of whomever she considered the most likely to have the passcard Laurie needed. While Midori kept dancing with Laurie, she was looking for her position relative to Faeranduil as she wanted him to see that she'd neither left the club, nor approached another man - business was business, and she was going to leverage the situation for all it was worth.

Midori enjoyed the feeling of Laurie's soft body against hers and she leaned forward, offering Laurie a small, brief kiss on the cheek. It was a chaste kiss, but the way she nuzzled Laurie afterward suggested that she was sensitive to the elven witch's comfort with everything. The two beautiful elves would have been distracting anywhere, but there was something particularly alluring about the two metahumans that was more than the sum of the pair.

"I want to spend more time with you, but I'm working tonight too," Midori purred, gazing into Laurie's eyes. "So when you have their attention, don't hold back." Midori kissed Laurie's other cheek, this time allowing her soft lips to linger just a moment longer. Nothing was going to prevent Midori from finding Mio - there was too much of a risk the longer she let the young woman run and she needed to catch a scent soon before the trail went cold.

Midori would keep flexible for what the evening presented, but her priorities were networking with those in the know for the area and actually scouting for anyone who even vaguely resembled the pictures she'd seen. Of course, there was cosmetic surgery and a hundred other reasons to not look like what one used to, but Midori was optimistic that unless the girl had serious resources, it would be difficult to do well, quickly.

Midori kept a lookout for Faeranduil, looking for a lull in his company that she could send another drink and, this time, to gesture they should retreat to somewhere a little more cosy. Whether Faeranduil would understand it was business as much as flirting was anyone's guess.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:22, Tue 31 Oct 2023.

Laurie's heart skipped another beat when Midori said she wanted to spend more time with her and their eyes locked for a long time. The two made a pair of beautiful opposites, Midori in her modern and chic camisole while Laurie suddenly felt self-conscious in cast off old Blitzkrieg 2055 tour t-shirt over cutoffs and torn fishnets.

The chaste kiss drove away her self-doubt and she allowed herself a long, indulgent moment letting the music and the warmth of the woman in her arms take her away from life in the shadows for just a moment before she replied, "I would love to see you again too, sometime when work wasn't so pressing."

Returning to the task at hand, Laurie glanced over her shoulder towards the group of Shiawase employees that she had tailed into the club. Even though she commanded the mana and could call the elemental spirits, magic could be a fickle mistress and sometimes the simplest approach was a good old-fashioned con. As soon as she caught one's eye, she whispered to Midori "Time for one of them to play the white knight. During the next song, throw your drink in my face and cuss me out. Leave me crying on the dance floor. I can take it from there."

"You know, there's more than one person that'd pay good money for that," Midori teased, referring to her requested upcoming behaviour. Midori nodded and danced slowly in Laurie's arms. The contrasting styles of the pair, combined with their ethereal beauty, same-sex attraction and the combined magic of the chems and pounding beats that made up clubland... After the upcoming antics, people would notice the pair tonight, for better or for worse. Becoming a temporary local story wasn't necessarily a bad thing for business for a Face: sometimes the reflected glow of minor celebrity was enough to open doors. She knew she could ride the fickle knife-edge of notoriety like a pro, she sincerely hoped Laurie would be prepared for it. Laurie seemed so shy and sweet that Midori couldn't be certain that it might throw her game, worse had happened to better runners.

The change of song saw Midori take the glass she'd been drinking from and threw it in Laurie's face with an expert flick of the wrist that ensured most of the drink would miss Laurie. Midori recoiled from Laurie and, without missing a beat, she cried out:

"You thought we had a chance after what you pulled?" Stepping a few feet away from Laurie, allowing the stunned silence to grow as people strained to hear over the thumping music.

"I don't care how much you were offered," Midori continued, being deliberately vague to allow the club goers no hint of the details of the juicy story. "I'm not going to be in on something like that."

Midori stormed off in the direction of the ladies' room, leaving Laurie alone to do her thing. She scanned the crowd in front of her, hoping there was someone else who might be advantageous to speak to nearby.

You storm across the room, playing the jilted lover to a tee. Mere moments later as you enter the sanctuary of the ladies room, you see one of the gray-suited wageslaves slide in to console the elven witch. Early indication that the plan will pay off.

During your brief, but meaningful encounter with Laurie, you seem to have lost Faeranduil to the night. You’re confident that you left your mark and that you just need to wait for another place, another time. It’s not a bad trade. A runner like Laurie will want to keep a low profile. The Ambassador’s son on the other hand won’t be hard to track down. I’d you know where to look or who to ask, you could probably get that kind of shadowbuzz for free.

”Ya know,” a voice at your side and a hint of designer cologne  breaks your train of thought, ”There’s people who pay good cred for that kind of thing.” says a short, heavily built man with a wispy moustache and three day growth patchy stubble that struggles against his Asian heritage to be the beginnings of a beard. He stands the same height as you, but weighs at least twice as much, thick neck and shoulders showing through the skin tight shirt he a wearing. Intricate dragon tattoos with iridescent scales peek out from his collar and at his wrists.

Midori was glad that she hadn't messed up Laurie's chances on her run - Midori tended to be a team player on runs even when she accidentally stumbled into the middle of one. Unless it was something that was entirely against her morals, like geeking someone just because they're a metahuman, but she rarely came across those types, except the ones that thought (wrongly) that they could mess with her because she was one of the smaller metahumans around.

Midori was almost glad to have lost Faeranduil to the night - he was likely a personal prospect as much as a business one, and she didn't like to mix the two when she could help it. Even as far as it had gone with Laurie complicated things, she'd seen the doe-eyed look in a gal's eyes before and knew it meant trouble for her if she couldn't keep an eye on her footwork.

Midori wasn't dumb, tattoos like that had to mean the guy was a Yak - sometimes those tattoos could mean a wanna-be, but given the scent of the cologne, Midori knew otherwise. She had to play things cool if she wanted to keep the Yaks cool, and anyone who wanted to keep their head on their shoulders wanted to keep the Yaks cool.

"Well, if you meet any of them, let me know," Midori grinned, offering a small but respectful bow, the sort she might give a colleague of a higher rank, but not a boss. "Apparently I'm a free agent again," she added, gesturing dismissively back at Laurie.

"I'm Midori," she offered, looking into the man's face to try and determine his intentions for her. Meeting her by the bathroom said one thing, but Midori didn't think this guy was the club bathroom type, so she was going to have to dig deeper to analyse his motives.

”I’ll find you a few, Midori,” he replied smoothly, ”You just gotta pay my finder’s fee. You and me, we can make a lot of cred together.” he adds.

The club, the obvious criminal ties, the way he instinctively preys on a vulnerable woman. This kyodai must manage some local fūzoku services. What a stroke of luck finding him.

The clans approach to prostitution varies of course. Some traditionalists amongst the more noble criminal houses follow the old ways of professional courtesans, managed and trained to perfect their arts. Others are callous flesh merchants who manipulate and use people, caring little for their girls or their clients. Just looking for quick cred.

”I’m Gin,” he continues, ”If you are looking for something new and exciting, you would be very popular in the soaplands or pink salons. The Black Chrysanthemums clan would take good care of you.”

Midori smiled at the man's brazen offer, but inwardly she was thinking about the best way to keep on this man's good side while not falling prey to the less-gentle methods of coercion that pimps tended to use: all things being equal, she knew she could not win a fight against Gin.

"The soaplands? Gin-san, you are selling me short," she purred, acting as though she wasn't fantastically insulted by the idea of being a bathhouse girl. "You know the real money is in BTLs," she commented, examining her nails casually, as though she wasn't about to suggest something particularly heinous. "After all, you can copy and replay the same scene over and over without needing live actresses, and those chipheads eat it up. I've got an idea for a cal-hot, but need someone who looks a lot like me to make it work."

Midori wasn't going to give Gin any more information than she had to in order to protect Mio for the meantime: she didn't know how street-savvy the woman was and she couldn't risk setting Yaks on her tail.

"How about this, you tell me what you want for your 'finders fee' if you come across someone that looks like me, and any BTLs I make with her, you get first refusal for distribution," Midori's words were careful, but it would be a good deal: finders fee and distribution rights for the BTLs could make Gin a very rich man. Of course, if the number of BTLs Midori made was zero, Gin still would get his finder's fee. It risked annoying him, but Midori was good at soothing irritated, overblown egos when the alternative was failing a run.

"What do you think, Gin-san? Can you keep an eye out for me?" Midori smiled, tilting her head to the side.

Gin clicks his tongue in disappointment. ”The soaplands are personal. Ancient. Honorable. Chips are cold and impersonal.” he replies. ”But at least you will not be competition, heh?” he adds with a lewd laugh.

The Black Mums fall on the more traditional side of Japanese crime clans. The ninkyō dantai. The shadowy hand of the Empire. Loyal to the Diet. Putting a personal sense of honor over easy or unclean nuyen.  They are among the closest clans to the seat of power in Kyoto. Predictably that influence carries with it certain limitations. They will not deal in these lesser forms of illicit commerce. Would not sully themselves or suffer the loss of honor that came with human trafficking or BTLs.

”So you’re looking for another girl like you? Just a pretty little elf or a pretty little josei or a pretty little josei elf? Any or all of the above?” he asks, taking a short haul from a vaporizer.

"Of course not, there are much lovelier flowers than me in this night garden," Midori responded, adjusting her language to match Gin's general disposition. Midori respected tradition as much as she could, but she was a modern woman and didn't have a clan backing her to keep her nose that clean. But she could play along for now, there was a lot at stake and it was better to have a reputable Yak on her side than to annoy him.

"Yes, and what I'm planning to create is art," Midori said pointedly, as though she was mildly insulted at the implication that what she would create would be anything less than a masterpiece. "I don't throw out drek, but I am also not below meeting the needs of discerning customers for whom soaplands are ... out of reach, for one reason or another."

Midori was keeping the course about the BTL story, it was her best bet to find someone who knew an elf that looked like her without tipping Mio off that she was being sought personally.

"Gin-san, you know there are some that are in delicate positions and cannot afford to be exposed to the public in such a vulnerable way," Midori spoke coyly, as though they both knew that there were people, rich and powerful in a way that neither of them would likely achieve in a thousand lifetimes. Those sort of people 'ordered in' if they wanted a girl, and if they were worried about assassination, a BTL was the next best thing.

The powerful, the privileged who lived in metaphorical ivory towers were served differently than the rest and Midori knew that. She'd been on runs where she'd had to pose as a callgirl and the level of security that she'd had to be cleared through had been invasive, to say the least. A truly quality BTL that featured two beautiful Japanese elves would be a masterpiece if done tastefully and with a big enough budget.

"Yes, I need someone who is nearly identical to me, the storyline involves a stolen kimono..." Midori smiled gently, nudging Gin-san in the direction she wanted him to see her in.

"She has to be practically a twin for it to work - thanks for the compliment, but yes, a pretty elf and she must be Japanese. Do you think you're up to helping me cast such a role? I assure you, what I plan to produce is anything but tacky." Midori looked up at the large man earnestly.

"Perhaps we can speak over a drink, I'm thirsty and you look like you're about due for a refill?" Business went smoother over drinks and this guy knew his stuff, she just hoped she could balance the line between tasteful and tempting that would draw Gin in to help her find Mio.

”A drink sounds perfect,” he says, motioning for you to find a booth while he heads over to the busy bar. Joining you a few moments later with cocktails, he settles in across from you.

”Your love art idea is very intriguing,” he says sipping a dark and smokey selection from Yamazaki.  ”Similar services are offered in person within the more refined parlours in some of the civilized sectors of the ‘plex. There is a market for this, especially between two delicate blossoms such as you propose. You are a shrewd business woman Midori and I wish I could help, but I have not heard of another like you who would be interested in the work.”

”You can appreciate that, while you are indisputably radiant, my clientele prefer something a little less… exotic.” he adds delicately. Over the music, you can hear sincerity in his voice. He has no reason to try to deceive or to try and play you, he was being honest about not getting into chips, even though he can tell it will be lucrative.

But something about his tone, the look in his deep brown eyes. He is looking for a score. He is ambitious but bound by a personal sense of honor. Your intuition tells you that he yearns to become gashira but will not compromise his morals in a gamble to increase his standing.

Midori slips into the booth, well aware that being seen with a Black Mum might compromise some of her other allyships, but this was important: Gin represented not only one opportunity, but an untold number of connections she would literally kill to have.

The cocktails represented a choice: she'd hoped that they would flag down a server and make an order, but refusing the cocktail because of drugging concerns would not end well. While the Black Mums were more honourable than some of the other gangs, that did not prevent certain members from acting in bad faith, after all.

"I appreciate your open-mindedness regarding the idea nevertheless, Gin-san. I know that it is not precisely traditional, but I believe that the quality of the production would speak for itself. I believe that we can help each other," Midori purred, showing an act of good faith by sipping her cocktail while they spoke. She traced the lip of the glass with an index finger and flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, allowing the loud music of the club and the hazy air to give the pair a certain air of mystery and danger, like tigers at the zoo.

"Your words are too kind, Gin-san, and yes, I am familiar with how most of our brethren feel about ... people like me," the elf averted her eyes momentarily, the bright irises dimming as though she was expressing genuine shame about her own kawaru. She didn't mind being an elf but the absolute refusal of many of her countrymen to deal with her stung: she was an impurity in their eyes. Taking another sip of her drink, Midori sat back in the booth and smiled bravely, trying to readjust the conversation towards a more lucrative situation.

"Still, I feel we can help each other, Gin-san. You are clearly a man of ambition, approaching me was brave. I, too, have ambitions and believe that we can both benefit in a manner that your oyabun would approve of. What do you say to that?"

”It is prideful to presume to know what the oyabun would approve of,” Gin replies. ”But a transgression that can be forgiven if I made my own aspirations so obvious that you could read my motives so clearly.”

He takes another drink of his whiskey, swirling the amber liquid around the glass contemplatively. Wheels are turning behind those dark eyes. Ideas that don’t fit inside the mould of kyodai pimp. ”Have you ever taken a moment and thought about what you would choose if you could have anything? Anything under the rising sun. Let there be no limit to your ability to make your wildest dream a reality. Nuyen, power, fame, pleasure. Put all of these on the table and pick one. Which would it be?” he muses philosophically.

”What would you pick Midori?” he asks in earnest, not wanting to dominate the conversation but obviously ready to share his own answer with you.

"You say it's prideful, but I argue it's obvious: your oyabun wants success for the Black Mums while following the values that he instills in the organisation, no?" Midori asked, patiently showing that she wasn't claiming to know the man's mind, only in the direction that they must travel in to find out his needs.

Midori stretched her legs underneath the table, allowing her soft calf in its leather leggings to brush against the outside of Gin's calf. It wasn't quite a sexual gesture, but it was a gesture she was becoming more comfortable with him but that because this was business, she wouldn't make overt expressions of a desire for friendship.

"You aren't obvious, Gin-san, I just deal with men like you often, and men like you enjoy the finer things in life and have ambition to collect them: nuyen, attractive lovers, notoriety or glory, belonging..." Midori answered, leaving the last option hanging in the air between them as she touched one of the silver hoops that decorated her elven ears almost subconsciously. It was a tell Midori hadn't even been aware she'd made, but it spoke of a heartbreaking truth about the woman: she knew she didn't belong - she was Japanese-American and an elf: not Japanese enough for the Japanese, too Japanese for the Americans and a freak of nature to everyone.

"I've never thought about it, Gin-san, I'm having too much fun living life day-to-day," she began, taking a long drink and allowing the alcohol (and hopefully only alcohol) to drop her barriers a little.

"In my wildest dreams, perhaps I'd have the sort of influence an oyabun does. Before you chide me, I don't want to be an oyabun - but I would love the ear of one, perhaps one who... liked me despite my shortcomings." Belonging. Belonging was raw in her face even though her digital eyes sparkled with tiny stars like a galaxy in her pupils. Either she couldn't face that she was a lonely outcast, or she didn't realise that she wanted to belong yet, but what else would a Face desire but a carte blanche to slip into any and every social setting like a key in a lock?

"You look as though you've contemplated the answer before, Gin-san," Midori teased, trying to regain her footing and power in the conversation despite her painfully honest answer (without her knowledge). "Tell me, what does Gin-san want out of life?"

Midori would observe Japanese drinking rules, pouring Gin-san drinks as they spoke without even thinking about it. She didn't mind if people thought she was a comfort woman for the Yak, her perception to others only mattered as far as it would get her access to what she needed. Right now, she was surprised to find out that she might actually need Gin-san's help.

"Kanpai!" The beautiful elf toasted the next round of drinks in Japanese, a genuine smile on her face. She seemed almost prettier as herself, even with her vulnerabilities, than she did as a Face when she was using her looks as a tool of the trade.

”Belonging.” He replied, making an effort to ignore the shapely leather clad leg rubbing against him under the table. Under other circumstances you know he would gladly take this gesture as an invitation to find a far more intimate place for far more intimate moments.

Instead, he meets your artificial eyes, and seeing nothing behind the surgical steel and glass, turns to watching the lines of your face. Watching as the realization of your own desire crosses your exotic features. ”Your insight does not fail you. I doubt it ever does.” he says heavily, as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. ”The things you mention, material wealth, beautiful partners and the other trappings of success are meaningless. You leave your mark on this life through those who carry your memory. The samurai used to say that all they had to protect, to cherish, was their honor. They cared so much about protecting their honor, about belonging to something greater than themselves, because they felt that they were already dead. Because they might die or be ordered to death at any moment, every moment they lived became precious, something to keep unsullied.”

He takes up the glass you have poured for him, letting his hand slide over yours for a brief moment. ”I would wish to have that kind of commitment, or more importantly, to have something worth making that kind of commitment to. I would wish to belong to something so important that I cherished every moment keeping my honor bright for fear of leaving a besmirched legacy that somehow tainted that commitment.”

Having allowed himself to open up, and having seen your vulnerability as well, it’s like the weight has lifted from him. Like you, his spirit is lighter. Raising the glass, he echoes your excitement. ”Kempai!”

Midori was struck by the Yak's sincerity in his words, and furthermore, the depth of his desires: she'd underestimated him and felt embarrassed that she had. Her lilac irises dimmed for a moment as though she was taking in Gin-san's revelation personally and she adjusted her posture, leaning forwards out of interest and the genuine connection they seemed to be sharing at that moment, despite the volume of the music in the club and the alcohol.

The way he'd summarised her desires into one simple word hurt like a lash because it was true: she did want to belong somewhere, belong to someone or at least to matter to them. She'd been running more or less solo since Jun had died, there was always some part of her that was unacceptable to potential partners: hell, even if they accepted her being metahuman and the same race as the colonising force in the 'plex, her Shadowrunning was a step too far for most.

"My insight keeps me alive, the day I am found dead is the day it will have failed me catastrophically," Midori responded, knowing full well that in her line of work, the life expectancy was much lower than that of a norm. Listening to Gin-san's words, she nodded, finding his desires far deeper than most of the Yaks she had business with.

"You want your legacy to be a good one, is that it? Well, Gin-san, perhaps my intuition has failed me," Midori spoke in an amused, playful tone. He had come up to her asking about her working in a bathhouse, so she wasn't beating herself up too badly about the mistake. Midori sat back momentarily, mulling over her options with her run tonight. She had to focus on finding Mio and she wasn't going to make headway with Gin-san. She didn't trust him enough to be completely honest with him yet, but she also didn't want to spoil what could be the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship.

Midori appreciated the reciprocated touch, he did not have the utter disgust of her that many of their shared heritage did and the small gesture did not go without notice.

After the toast, Midori scans the club once more to make sure she's not missing anything from the environment by being focused on Gin-san.

"You're still seeking something to devote yourself body, mind and soul to?" Midori reflected, wondering what or who could be worthy of such perfect surrender. It was an admirable goal but her cynicism reminded her of the saying that when you lay down with dogs, you get fleas. Perhaps the Black Mums were the closest he could get to the idea, but a Yak was a Yak in many ways, it was just a matter of the degrees of honour and of criminality.

"I can get on board with that," Midori nodded, pulling out a modest paper business card - they were ludicrously expensive in that digital age for what they were, but they were a nice touch for her more traditional clients and she offered it to him properly, in both hands with a respectful bow of her head.

The card was simple, offering her name in Kanji and her contact details, but it was not the sort of card that someone who made her living shilling BTLs would have - it evoked a sense of taste and of refinement, perhaps the card would have typically been used to comfort clients like her current employer had they met in person, but now it was being offered as a gesture and an admission: there was more to Midori than met the eye.

”This has been a remarkable encounter.” Gin says, tucking the little card into his pocket. ”I came to you with what I though was a proposal to help a lost soul and make a few quick cred in the process. It is clear that I mistook you for something that you are not and that I badly misread the situation. I am humbled at the lesson the universe has seen fit to teach me this evening.” he continues returning your gesture with a respectful bow of his own head.

”I think we have much to discuss, Midori. I’m think there is promise of a fulfilling figure together, but this is not the place and I think that I am too drunk for this to be the time.” he adds, slugging back more whiskey. His hand then falls below the table coming to rest high up on the leather clad thigh that is still pressing into his leg. ”We find ourselves at a cross roads,” he continues with a playful squeeze of his hand against your leather and the firmness of your thigh, ”There is a promise down every path and I am game for any or all of them, as long as you are. And if you are not, he continues, removing his hand and setting it back in the table, ”then I am content. Our minds are as one, even if we decide that our bodies need not be. I will look forward to meeting another time and discuss other ways our relationship can be mutually beneficial.”

Midori's poker face was something of legend - she kept her eyes on Gin even as his hand slid to the soft, calfskin leather of the leggings she wore while on the bike.

"On the contrary, Gin-san, you have helped a lost soul and may have more to offer in the future," Midori purred, comforting the man that his brave approach had not been in vain. Midori knew that anathema to ego was embarrassment and she wouldn't let the Yak leave without giving him the distinct possibility that there was a delightful future in store regardless of the nature of it.

Midori took Gin's hand and traced his large fingertips with her own soft hands, showing him that while the physical affection wasn't unwelcome, the timing wasn't right. She looked into his eyes with a subtle smile.

"Gin-san honours me, but as you say, you are too drunk for this to be the time," she replied, a subtle implication that were there to be further physical interaction in their future, it would be done when they might both benefit from the experience. "I do not doubt your expertise, but I came to the club with a specific need in mind - one that will remains unfulfilled. We shall speak soon, under more favourable circumstances," Midori promised him, leaning forward to offer an incredibly brave and almost stupid, yet chaste, kiss on his cheek. The kiss could be interpreted in many different ways, but it was clear there was an undercurrent of respect and affection - she wouldn't let Gin leave the table feeling like a loser, which meant he had to be the one to leave her side.

"I promise you will be content whatever the future holds, Gin-san. I hope your evening brings you everything you desire."

Whenever Gin-san removed himself from the table, or gestured she should leave, Midori would leave the rest of her drink where it was and scan the club for any last-minute opportunities before hitting the streets of the district once more. The night was young and Midori had plenty of opportunities to bring her in contact with a lead that might set her on Mio's tail, no matter how unlikely. Midori knew that the trick was to keep an open mind.

”A promise? Not one that I will hold you to, but if you decide to keep it, I will willingly accept.” he replies with the lazy grace of a well fed tiger. A man in Gin’s position is not often rejected. In a way it was a refreshing feeling that eliminated any lingering suspicion that his beautiful new acquaintance would use her body to curry favour with a powerful man.

”I hope you find whatever you came in here looking for. Whether it is another who looks like you for your business venture, or whatever else you seek tonight.” he says, standing and kissing your hand. A regal flourish. ”I will be in touch.”

Gin disappears into the crowd and possibly into the arms of one of the many pretty little things that would have lined up for the chance that you just deferred to another time. The crowd goes on, like a living thing, without noticing. The same crowds, here or somewhere else, throbbing and moving, leaving Mio innocent and unnoticed in the ‘plex.

There are the other two big clubs  of the Broadway Avenue Red Light District (Redtail’s and Capones), there are the leads from the chip (the neighbourhood, the health club and the boyfriend) and there are your party girl friends that you left hanging waiting for your marked up Bliss… where are you going?

"A promise," Midori confirmed with a soft smile. "I am confident I will see you content at least once while I know you." Midori might flirt to get places in life, but her body and access to it was carefully guarded - she hated to mix business and pleasure. That was how most Faces got caught out - they trusted the wrong people, they let their heart make decisions instead of their head. Midori had learned the lesson when Jun got killed and had hardened her heart to protect it from the traps that were unique to a Face.

Most Shadowrunners could go in, guns blazing or stealthy as the night and either kill or avoid everyone who would prevent them from reaching their target, but Faces rode in limos with those very people, shared drinks and sometimes even went deep undercover as a spouse, a new secretary, a nurse or whatever was needed to get the job done. Their lives were dangerous because every word that escaped their lips was being watched and listened to, their minds directories of important people and places. Surveillance was common in the 'plex, but unless you were focused upon it was mostly population-level stuff for crime. Faces were targeted because crime and business passed their way like a stream through a valley.

As Midori's hand was kissed, she offered her bowed head in return, squeezing his hand slightly with hers to confirm their pact. A new Yak friend was a result for the evening, though not for Mio's run and that was what Midori was most concerned about.

Midori would have to hit the club to give the girls their Bliss first, they'd want it early in the evening and likely would resell once again to their customers, or take a hit before going on stage. Midori walked back to her Mirage and, looking about to see if there was any surveillance watching her, she would pop the pannier open when she could be reasonably certain nobody was going to rob her, at least. She look a few doses out and tried to avoid the craving to take one. She might be a Bliss junkie, but she was a functional Bliss junkie, after all.

Plus, going to that club would give her the opportunity to speak with the bouncers, whom she had a friendly relationship with. Something about the massive, imposing figures in the doorway taking care of a bunch of half-naked women tickled her as they were fairly courteous and deferential despite their hulking strength. If nothing else, it would lift her mood to see some old friends and she could ask for the news from the street from people she trusted.

Midori walked along the street, swinging her hips as though she was just out for a good time and perhaps looking for someone to go home with. Let them stare at her pointed ears or the way her heritage revealed itself in her features, she could hardly care. A good Face wanted to be noticed, and Midori sincerely hoped that being noticed would bring her closer to Mio, even through the subtle notoriety that such pageantry brought.

Taking an extra spin around the busy block helps ensure that any tail you may have picked up or any technology being used for surveillance should be exposed. Unless of course there is a high altitude drone or satellite up there watching you, but at least that kind of tech can’t follow you inside Crazy Horse.

After the last big shaker, the original Tenderloin location fell into dust and the new location opened up ‘off Broadway’ as the locals derisively put it.  A few streets back from Broadway, the tourist friendly red light district starts to give way to the seedy underbelly of Chinatown. Crazy Horse is the gateway between the two. The large likeness of the infamous Sioux warrior seems to warn off those who would unwarily cross between these two worlds.

Inside Crazy Horse is awash with purple neon and red lasers. The matching set of Charity and Chastity grace the main stage, one currently being very charitable and the other not being very chaste at all. Little data terms cheerily gobble up the cred being beamed their way as tip notes scroll past in augmented reality, crowd sourcing the directorial talents of the club’s patrons to create the girls’ show.

That means your friends will still be out on the floor hustling or backstage waiting for their next performance.

At the backstage entrance and interspersed around the stage, there are mountains of vat grown, stem cell enhanced or chemically augmented meat. Most of the guys cultivate an aggressive look; shaved skulls, colorful mohawks, glowing eyes and all manner of brands and tattoos. A couple of them are just big puppy dogs. They look tough and will tear the arms off a patron who gets to handsy without paying first or too rough with a girl who prefers the softer stuff, but deep down they are the sweetest guys, really.

Operating in the 'plex, Midori knows that she cannot ever be sure of not being surveilled, particularly with most business buildings having security systems worth tens to hundreds of times what she made on a good run.

Still, there was something to be said about ensuring a lack of tails or goons that would just as easy make a quick Nuyen on what they thought was an easy target. Midori couldn't risk being injured in a fight and street criminals rarely fought fair - one on one, or if she had the drop on someone she was guaranteed a fighting chance, but those same calculations were being made by the other side.

Midori felt at home in places like this: everyone had a clearly defined role and behaviours that were permitted, even if it wasn't for the most acceptable purposes. The blinking neon illuminated her skin and made her shirt shimmer, noticeable because of the movement and the fine body occupying it.

Midori glanced at the stage, seeing Charity and Chastity and, true to her nature, tipped the women a modest amount as their business was good for her business, after all. She knew if she lingered too long on the floor she might risk being mistaken for a working girl - not that she'd be insulted, these girls worked hard for the creds, but she had business tonight and didn't want to fend off the advances of drunken patrons.

Midori typed a little message into her phone and explained she'd be backstage in a few minutes for anyone who wanted what she'd mentioned earlier. She tended to be careful with her messages, minimising the times she mentioned what, or even if, she was selling.

Midori was keeping her eyes out for one of her oldest friends in particular, V1XN, a tall white woman with powder pink hair and the best rack this side of the divide between Chinatown and the rest of the world. Like Midori, she was a Face, working the Crazy Horse as a cover for her role as the combination of pretty women and liberal application of alcohol and other illicit substances loosened the lips of many of the patrons. She worked as 'Fawn' at the club, so Midori sidled up to one of the vatjob bouncers she knew and liked quite well, offering a bright smile.

"Hey Tiger," she greeted him playfully, using an affectionate nickname as she craned her neck to look upwards into his eyes. "How's tricks? Is Fawn in tonight? I'd like to speak to her if she is, but if not I'm just gonna head backstage to drop some stuff off." Midori explained her plans quite honestly, knowing that V1XN wouldn't work somewhere where the bouncers endangered her true occupation. Normally she'd be more friendly and ask about family, girlfriends and the like but she knew that the bouncer was on duty and respected that he wouldn't want distractions.

Midori was generally welcome backstage at the Crazy Horse as she didn't abuse the privilege and the girls preferred discreet drop-offs while at work for the convenience and secrecy of their habits. Bliss was a fairly benign substance compared to some of the milspec chems, but some of the women still had families they wanted to protect from this side of their lives. Still, she awaited the official permission of the bouncer so he knew where she was and that she wasn't screwing up any plans she wasn't privy to. After all, if the ladies were entertaining a true VIP - one who didn't pay for the 'VIP experience' in the VIP section but had access to most if not all parts of the club, Midori marching in with an armful of drugs would be seen as an unwelcome disruption.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:57, Tue 14 Nov 2023.

The bouncer gives you a withering look, mean mugging before bursting into a wide and playful grin that shows off a mouthful of stainless steel teeth.  ”Aww, I’m playing’ wit’ ya Mido.  Been a minute since we seen ya, the girls been gettin’ antsy,” he said. ”They’ll be glad you came by to drop stuff off.”

The fact that you are almost always holding was becoming one of the worst kept secrets in the ‘plex, but it was a fact that could work in your favour. On the streets razors, dealers and joygirls enjoyed unfettered access to the myriad of back rooms and dark corners where deals were made. Besides, it played into the well defined roles that made you feel so comfortable in places like this. It left folks thinking they knew what you were about. In their minds it was easy to see how the math added up; pretty girl, hustles a bit of Bliss on the side so she can stay off her back, otherwise harmless. Little did they know that this was just one facet of the gemstone that was the many faces of Midori.

Backstage the girls are in all manner of undress. Leather, lace, chain mail, feathers and faux fur are scattered across every surface while the girls share makeup and drinks are flowing. A low but light cloud of smoke and vapor hangs in the air, while someone from the production team calls out the next main stage acts, giving backstage an atmosphere halfway between busy operations centre and college dorm room party.

You catch a glimpse of powder pink that is followed by a squeal of delight as V1XN calls out to you. ”Get. Over. Here. Now. Girl.” she says augmenting each word with a hand clap and a healthy bounce. ”You’re just in time. Sinamon and I go on in five.”

"Hey, pretty girl," Midori smiled, kind of glad her street cred was reaching a point where it spoke for itself. That was all any good Face wanted - a story believable enough if acted as a seamless cover without causing obstruction to business. Midori enjoyed the view and set out half of the Bliss cartridges she had total on the table.

"All right girls, pay up. None of this 'I had a slow night' stuff," Midori barked, teasing them in much the way that the vatjob had teased her - gruff friendliness borne of familiarity and trust.

"Any of you pretty ladies seen another elf that looks like me that's new around here? I need the word on the street, girls, and any rumours you can bring me. You know I'll take care of you," Midori told them, which was mostly true. The girls spoke among themselves and often worked at more than one club. While some would undoubtedly be on the take for competitors, Midori's job wasn't the sort that would have competitors unless the Mister Johnson that hired her had arranged them directly, and that would be unhelpful when looking to rescue a family member who has a risk of going to ground.

"You're looking good, V1XN, I see I'm in for a treat tonight if it's you and Sinamon on next. You got time to chat after or you booked solid tonight?" Midori asked, knowing V1XN might be in important meetings in her private room all night, it was like a separate VIP area she was allowed to keep for her business because the clientele who asked for her paid handsomely for the privilege of her audience, much less a run.

The cred starts to flow and your precious cargo gets gobbled up by several of the ladies of Crazy Horse. The hits off vapes begin immediately, but the girls know the score and have the little pleasure delivery machines set to give half hits. The night is still young and there is work to be done.

”Shows are only for paying customers,” V1XN teases.

”And the friends and family rate is double the regular rate,” Sinamon chimes in, taking one of the little vaporizers off your hands.

”Why you looking for another elf girl, Mido?” V1XN asks, reaching behind her back to clip together fussy little clasps. ”They just did a new ‘Elf Girls Gone Wild’ over at the old Berkeley campus. Too much competition.” she adds with a snarky smile. ”But we’ll keep an eye out for any info. Elf girl. Pretty. Japanese. Can’t be many of them in the ‘plex. You try Tenderloin? Girl got a name?” she adds with another laugh. She’s busting your chops a bit, locker room humor, but you can count on V1XN and the girls to watch out for one of their own in trouble.

”We can talk after the show,” she adds, being hustled out into the stage. ”And don’t forget to tip. If the crowd is slow maybe get something going with some seed money?”

”Ain’t no crowd gonna be slow when they see this,” Sinamon says, bending deep and gyrating her ample hips. Somehow you know she’s right…

Midori smirks and seems satisfied once the creds are paid up in full, though the scent of Bliss in the air gives her a thrill and a desire to go home and finish the investigation another evening, but she knows she can't do that with this type of case. She was going to be up for the next twenty four hours minimum trying to cast hooks and get leads from those in her network. They took time to come back to her and she would rest while she waited for them.

"You girls break my heart, as if I'd ever leave you wanting," Midori's tone is flirtatious and it isn't certain whether she's talking about Bliss, tips or something else entirely.

"I'm still trying places tonight," Midori admitted to V1XN, letting her know subtly that this wasn't just any pretty elf girl she was looking for, but a special pretty elf girl. "She might have a name, but I'll talk to you after. Don't want you having to think about other girls while on stage with the delightful Sinamon." Midori spoke with a smile as she watched Sinamon gyrate her hips, and she popped over a small tip as a joke with a wink to the gorgeous pair.

"It's not gonna be a slow crowd, but you know I'll be there on Perv Row, making it rain," Midori grinned, collecting up anything that remained unsold (not that it was likely there was much, if anything, to take back) and blowing all of the girls affectionate, platonic kisses before leaving, giving her vatjob friend a wide grin and a nod while she took a seat in the front row for the show, which had the dubious honour of being called Perv Row in most clubs. Midori wasn't there for the show, as such, but it helped that people thought she was and she knew that spreading creds around places like this in the form of tips and drink rounds went a long way to keeping her memorable in the eyes of the staff.

Midori would watch the show, tipping along with the rest of the hungry audience, and then she'd get up and unobtrusively make her way towards V1XN's VIP room, nodding to the security she met along the way and watching the crowd out of her peripheral vision. She was primarily watching for Mio and anyone who might be watching herself a little too closely. She seemed paranoid, but as the saying went: when you're right, paranoia is just good thinking.

The front row vibe is a strange one. It’s a mix of sad little men spending every spare cred, and probably some that aren’t spare at all, just for the chance that one of the girls will pay them the slightest attention. Among these pathetic specimens are a number of players. Like sprinkles in ice cream, they are few and far between, but they have the cred and it flows from them like water. Spreading a few cred around along with the front row ballers is therefore a matter of personal and professional pride. Any perception that you could be lumped in with the other occupants of this choice real estate is incomprehensible.

As it turns out, Sinamon was spot on. The crowd isn’t slow at all and the tip counter chimes steadily as lewd suggestions float across the stage in augmented reality. Fawn and Sinamon seize upon a couple of the spiciest ideas and spend the full seven-minute trip hop remix of Puta twisted together in a sweaty embrace.

After the set, you find V1XN towelling off in her private champagne room.  ”Glad you stopped by tonight girl. I’ve got paydata to sell if you are looking for some good street-level intel.”

"Arctic. The only thing finer than your ass is your intel, Miss Vix," Midori was genuinely pleased, though the second thing she said was an inside joke that V1XN would recognise:

Apparently, a Shadowrunner particularly enamoured with V1XN for the more revealing part of her act was pleased to find out that she was equally good as a Face; Vix and Midori used the saying as a phrase to mean the other one had done particularly well in that part of their game.

"Gimme everything you'll sell me for half of whatever I made from the girls. Mate's rates for both of us, right? A deal at twice the price, was it?" Midori was teasing using Sinamon's earlier joke.

"After that tasting platter, I'll see what I can afford for the main course." Midori was referring to more nuyen for more detail on the tips, so Midori could choose from what interested her without Vix giving up too much detail, first. For instance, a tip that said something like "elf meets in parking lot on the Coast Highway with go-gang", she might not need to pay for more information because she resembled that remark, so to speak.

"Why don't you move to a better club, Vix? Girls like you and Sin don't belong getting drooled over by suits and razorboys. What if I could get you in with the Mums? Respectable work for respectable clients, you know." Midori was showing her true hustler nature here, she didn't even work for the Mums officially, but she had a feeling if she went to Gin with the likes of Vix and Sin, they'd both profit tremendously, Midori would get an inner ear on the Mums and Gin would be on his way to being taken more seriously, especially if he took Midori with him.

Midori was thinking a good few steps ahead in this game, and she was about to deliver a critical blow to those who opposed her career: the almost-famous Midori, known and trusted within the region, blessedly Japanese enough to deter too much lawmaker interest from either country, was willing to declare for an organisation and was entering the fray backing a dark horse.

It was time, this was Midori's all-or-nothing shot. Would she convince Vix and Sin that work in the soaphouses for Gin would make them richer than they could ever imagine, and would Gin let the girls work under those terms, selling both information to the Mums and using their bathhouses as sites of operation? She believed he might and they certainly weren't the type to bite the hand that fed them. This could be a match made in heaven for everyone involved, especially the club owner for the place where Vix currently worked if an influx of Black Mums became club patrons.

But it was a crazy risk. Was Midori about to crash and burn? A Face only got one chance like this in her career, where she felt like all the stars aligned, but it working itself out was another matter entirely. If this worked out, she could finish Mio's case like the cherry on top of a very illustrious career sundae and move forward to something far lower-risk than Shadowrunning. She might even get the chance to talk to her parents again, they'd approve of a Japanese boyfriend, especially if he was going places. If they were going places.

V1XN readily agrees to the terms of your deal, exchanging half the take from your Bliss sales for her paydata. She explains that one of her clients got a little overzealous with the soju and let slip that Kwonsham is hiring runners to infiltrate their unions and assist with strike breaking out in Daly City at one of their manufacturing sites. The thing about Kwonsham is that they are tied to the Seoulpa Rings and therefore represent a threat to the more patriotic criminal institutions of Nippon. V1XN's data is worth the cred you pay for it. Both Jimmy and his Ronin or Gin and the Black Mums could profit from knowing about this.

Taking a chance, you begin to lay out your pitch for the girls to leave Crazy Horse. You know this will be a controversial topic. Crazy Horse treats the girls as well as anywhere, and the Black Mums are an unknown commodity. You can sense the immediate hesitation from V1XN when you bring up the matter and you can hear her uncertainty when she voices her opinion, "I like the sound of respectable, but we're set up here and leaving might cause bad blood. That kind of thing is bad for biz." she expalined. "On top of that, I've got my shadowbiz running out of here and I'd need to be sure the Yaks would support my side projects. I make a lot of cred peddling paydata."

"I know, and I wouldn't bring it up if I didn't think there was a chance for you to keep doing that there. I may have an in, but I'll need to develop it a little. I wanted to bring it to you first because I'm sort of just a broker in this matter, I want you to have total control over your situation.

"You know I deal with bad blood, imouto," Midori purred with a smile. "I don't think management will mind if the Mums are packing the house every night but it's something I can have a little discussion with them about when the time is right. I don't move on this until you tell me to move on this, yeah?"

Midori looked genuinely determined to bring other Shadowrunners up while she was on her way up, at least the ones that had been useful or were otherwise trustworthy for her. Similarly, it was Jimmy Ota who got the details on the paydata as she knew she owed him and she liked to keep her relationships good by paying her dues.

Typing on her phone, she quickly passed the message to Jimmy: Kwonsham hiring runners to infiltrate unions and strikebreaking at Daly City manufacturing site. xoxo Midori

"Let me get back to you with a fuller picture, but I wanted to make the offer to you first because, if we can swing it, we'll have ears inside a soaphouse, and the Black Mums stand to make a lot of nuyen from your professional experience getting the most arctic paydata." Midori smiled, topping up what she'd paid for the paydata with a generous tip, knowing that any nuyen she spent on V1XN would be nuyen she'd see again.

"Now, I won't take your whole night up, so let me be clear with you: the girl I'm looking for is named Mio and I think she might try the Crazy Horse or another club if she's desperate. She's likely to go to ground if she thinks anyone is tracking her, so I need like, just us in on this, okay?" Midori spoke plainly to her friend, knowing that if she came across this information in the wild, only she, V1XN and those who had hired her knew what was going on. She could track the information leak back to its source, but had never had that problem with V1XN, before.

"If anyone comes in with anything about a young female Japanese elf, please let me know. Whether it's that she did something stupid and got a gang's back up or that one is for sale," Midori added, shuddering at the thought, "I need to know and I need to see her. Whatever you want for that, I'll pay it," Midori said earnestly, looking into V1XN's eyes.

"For what it's worth, I'm hoping you can open your own place one day," Midori added gently.

At times V1XN seems interested in the pitch, at others she seems to oscillate away from the idea. She is a cagey runner and good at hiding her emotions, perhaps so good or at least so on her game tonight, that even you are finding her hard to read.  You’re confident that laying it all in the line for her, not trying to play any games, will give her a sense of confidence in the idea, but you can see that its going to be slow to come to fruition.

”I can’t deny having eyes and ears inside the Mums soaphouses would be a steady source of cred, but I still don’t know, you know?” she says hesitantly. ”Thanks for not making it a hard sell tonight,” she adds, half genuine sentiment and half warning not to push too hard too fast. V1XN is a runner with a good thing going. Sure, it’s not a gravy train but it pays the bills and it keeps her and the girls in the right side of the slabs in the city morgue. Too many women make a move that pisses off the wrong people and end up geeked. Even in the posh parts of the ‘plex which, at last glance, ‘off Broadway’ ain’t. She will need to see that the reward outweighs the risk.

Gin will need to get on board in a big way to make this play out. The ambitious and philosophical yak is a savvy business man and obviously looking for talented girls, so that part follows the path of least resistance. The Crazy Horse management can be bought off, scared off or simply appeased with a new stable of younger women who will fill the vacuum once V1XN, Sinamon, Charity, Chastity and any others join your venture.

It won’t be hard, but the pieces on the game board all need to be in place first. It will take work, but you can work the angles and make it happen…

…after you find the kid. A hundred k bankroll will certainly help jumpstart this deal.

”I’ll get the word out in the street,” V1XN replies after you ask about getting some help finding Mio. ”You got a pic of the kid? Any idea if she knew anyone in the part of the ‘plex? Maybe we can narrow the search area a bit.”

---

The next time you check your PocSec:
:: LTG# 206 (50-9981) :: {Jimmy}
novahot just like you baby girl … we all squared up

Midori smiled and shrugged, not wanting to give up all the information she had to V1XN along the same boundaries V1XN had established for their mutual occupations.

"Arctic. Just think about it, trust is rare in these parts. If I rise, I'd like to take those I can genuinely trust with me," Midori dropped the subject entirely, knowing that the moving parts it would take to climb the mountain that was the criminal underbelly of the 'plex relied on a lot of ideal outcomes, outcomes which might not yet be in her grasp.

"No word on the street and no picture, I just want to know if you overhear anything. I'll pay good money for it, and for that information to be sold only back to me. She's an elf, like me - while she might be able to market herself into something appealing, she won't be able to hide that side of her and hiding among her countrymen won't work very well: a lot of the more traditional ones won't even speak to her. It's considered a hideous deformity." Midori touched the point of her own ear, frowning as though she didn't see how she was hideous, but the rejection stung nevertheless.

"I appreciate I'm being cagey with details here, but I'm only asking you to listen and get in touch if the rumour mill starts spinning. Take care tonight, Vix," Midori smiled, getting ready to leave the room and return back to her beat. She had one more club to check out tonight and a few other small errands to run but then she could return home and Bliss out for a while.

Midori checked her PocSec before leaving the room, smiling at the message Jimmy had left her. Good to know she'd put at least one thing right that evening.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:50, Fri 24 Nov 2023.

"You know, I kinda really wanna believe you," V1XN replies in response to your wish to bring others up with you. "I'll keep it in mind and look forward to you being in touch," she says a bit more brightly and with the flirty little returning putting just a little edge on the word 'touch'. It pays to keep things light in this biz, even when you're talking life, death and cred.

"If you get a snap of the kid, send it my way. I'll get the word out. Kid on the streets is no joke," she adds sincerely. "Been there.

Back out on the club's main floor, the place is still a heady mix of noise and light and writhing flesh. You could get lost in this world, just let yourself go into a Bliss fueled haze of nights filled with music and cred and teasing. Who knows? You might even find real passion if you let yourself be open to it.

There's just one thing standing in your way. Ambition.

Back to Broadway Avenue (Redtail’s and Capones)? Check leads from the chip (the neighbourhood, the health club and the boyfriend)? Bliss and sleep?

Midori smiled; she didn't take any offence that Vix couldn't believe her, she could barely believe herself about trusting herself half the time. She was glad she'd made the deal for the Bliss, though - that had turned into a pile of easy creds which she'd been able to pay back with some arctic paydata from V1XN herself. She'd made a tidy little profit, about half of what the Bliss was worth and she'd met a few new 'friends' along the way.

Still, the night was young and Midori had work to do. It was too late to visit the boyfriend without raising suspicion and she wasn't dressed for the Health Club, but those she could address tomorrow in a single go if she had a chance. That left Redtail's, Capone's and the neighbourhood as options.

Midori decided she was going to try Capone's and then take a trip through the neighbourhood before heading back to her place. She didn't live far from the red light district, after all, and could loop back on herself to come home.

Midori tried to resist the pull of a nice, easy Bliss trip and stay on task, she exited back onto Broadway Avenue and, while keeping her head on a swivel for anything that either looked like upcoming trouble (people lurking in alleyways, go-gangs she didn't have friends in, even other Shadowrunners) or like Mio or the boyfriend. Of course, in the crowds and commotion she could have missed quite a bit, but she'd learned over time to filter a lot of that out and hopefully wouldn't miss anything too important.

Secretly, she hoped she'd find Mio at home, safe with the boyfriend tomorrow. If the boyfriend didn't know where she was, then she'd be doing the right thing hitting the streets tonight because Mio was in danger. If she was at home with her boyfriend right now, it might take a day longer to find her, but unless he was a total scumbag, he'd keep her safe. Just like Jun had tried to, before he died.

With the Bliss calling you still a gentle whisper in the back of your mind, you make your way back through the Broadway Avenue nightlife to Capone’s. Possibly the most tourist and corp friendly nightspot in the red light district, the club hides its true underworld identity under an old style prohibition era Chicago gangster theme that appeals to a wider clientele then the other clubs in the strip.

Like a scene out of Guys and Dolls, the staff are all dressed and in character as speakeasy hangarounds or rum running mafiosos. Pinstripe suits and v-neck party dresses that are incredibly chaste for this day and age serve a far more liberated crowd of patrons in varying states of dress (and undress in a few cases where patrons show off full body modifications wearing only the barest stitches of fabric for the sake of modesty).

You’re almost certain that the boyfriend will prove to be the best lead, but with a few hours of night still ahead of you before you tumble into bed with that vapourizer, Capone’s is a good bet. If there was a pimp around this part of the ‘plex who was looking for a fresh young face to sell off to the highest bidder, this would be the place you would find him.

Take 1 Edge and use it when you wish to add a useful detail if you choice.

The costumes made it easy to see who was working and who wasn't, and that allowed Midori to parse the crowd quickly. She scanned the employees first for any faces that looked remotely familiar or remotely like hers and then worked through the crowd. She was getting tired now, it was difficult to be hypervigilant all of the time.

Midori moseyed up to the bar and leaned against it, striking a pose that she knew displayed all of her best angles but without making it obvious. If there was a pimp in the crowd, she figured she was still young, pretty and 'exotic' (though she hated the word, it was often used to describe elves, Japanese women or both) enough that someone might take a glance. The trick to being a Face was being open to all sorts of interactions - the weird thing about networks was that often the most logical choice was likely to feel protective over the data, or person that she needed and sometimes it was the spurned ex of a friend-of-a-friend's-cousin who came through with the paydata.

However, Midori still strongly felt that the boyfriend was her best bet but she wasn't sure how she was going to approach the situation yet - she had been so many things to so many people that often she wondered where the lies ended and Midori began. Hell, Midori wasn't even her real name, but nobody in the biz used their government name.

Midori decided to spend the time at the bar intermittently watching the crowd and trying to dig up anything she could find on the BayPlex Shadowlands about the boyfriend. If he was in with a gang, she would use that angle. If he was clean, Midori could always play the 'concerned older sister' type who just wanted to make sure Mio was okay, or even a suit who implied Mio had run afoul of the law and she needed to speak with her urgently. Taxes or something, who understood them, right?

Midori would like to gain a beneficial detail regarding the boyfriend - some sort of edge that allowed her access to the truth as he understood it. :)

People watching is always a safe bet, it helps you figure out how the food chain works, who is 'in' and who is 'out'.

Here at Capone's the roped off VIP area is the 'ins'. If you knew anything about pro sports, you would recognize that about half of the San Fran Knights offense are here tonight. They host twice their number in young women wearing half of their clothes. Not likely the type to dabble in metahuman trafficking, but that seems like a fun place to party.

Elsewhere in the VIP there is a small group of men being doted on by a handful of women. They have the air of career criminals; cold looking like the corps you saw at Cabernet de la Nuit, but seemingly more prone to violence. Men to be avoided or at least handed carefully.

Lastly, there is a woman holding court with obvious admirers. Petite and with bubblegum pink hair, she, and her entourage, have the look of BTL actors or Glittercore musicians. Maybe both since the crossover success of Sugar Sex Bomb late last year. They are probably vapid and naive but maybe they have a handler, a fixer maybe, who might know something.

People watching also gives you time to flip back through details on the chip as you sip your drink, not tasting it. The boyfriend, Akihiro Kitada, is pure as driven snow. Vanilla in every way. Still in high school, a bit of an athlete, starting defensive tackle on the football team.  But, here’s a something, Mio went to high school halfway across the ‘burb from where Akihiro goes to school. That must have meant a lot of commuting to meet each other and probably meant circles of friends in both schools.

Midori mused over the boyfriend and the commute. She was going to have to take a soft approach with this kid, not scare him off. Midori certainly looked too old for high school, but not to be a college student, so she knew how she'd dress and which holster she'd keep her gun in so she didn't accidentally flash it.

She did a little digging around on social media to see if there was any angle she could take - a sports team Mio may have been on, whether her grades were good enough to be scouted for college, anything that she could say 'we're looking for her to give her something you'll want her to have'. She wasn't going to try and twist his arm with guilt yet, or worse, violence, but Midori had a feeling that if she didn't play this right, a chase could be on the cards.

The bubblegum pink hair catches Midori's attention - pretty women often had to touch up their looks lest the illusion fail, so she'd probably have been in the bathroom here more than a few times that evening, potentially hear conversations... once Midori was certain there was no more information to be scoured from the boyfriend lead - though the distance between the two schools was something that niggled at her - she would grab her drink and head over, an innocent grin plastered on her features.

"Ohmigod, hiiiii! I love the colour of your hair!" Midori fell into line with the other admirers, she didn't want to stand out, not at first.

There are a number of angles to use to approach the boyfriend and you’re feeling pretty confident about the plan. You’re right to wonder about the cross-town romance. That means more time spent alone later at night riding the BART between their neighborhoods. More chance for a random act of violence that will be impossible to trace. It means wider circles of acquaintances and cliques from two schools. Parents less aware of what’s going on in their kid’s life. All leaving greater possibilities that details or clues might be missed.

More hay, bigger haystack, same needle.

In the bathroom, Bubblegum Pink gives your compliment a melodic giggle in reply. ”Oh, you’re so fragging sweet to say so. It’s controlled by micro implants, so I can change it,” she giggles as her hair turns copper orange, then rainbow, then back to bubblegum while she fusses around with a small glass vial. ”Your eyes are so pretty, Custom optics? I love the little sparkles, they look so magical,” she continues, railing up a line of novacoke on the counter. ”And you are so fragging sexy too,” she adds hoovering up the line with practices ease. ”Great party tonight! Nova hot!”

((can Midori get a decker through the Bayplex or something like that to check out what Mio and her boyfriend's attendance records are like at school? If she comes armed with that info ahead of time, Midori could technically become the 'impossible to trace random act of violence', but with less violence and more kidnapping :P ))

Building a team and outsourcing is very Shadowrun. Please do try and hire a decker. There’s one or two in the orphaned PCs so I’ll pick one up and run them as your tech support if that works for you.

Midori decided to spend a little of her hard-earned Nuyen hiring a decker to break into the school systems and get her as much information about both of them as possible: class schedules, attendance records, any guidance notes for either of them. It wasn't so long ago she'd graduated that she forgot the intricate social lives that highschoolers had that could be revealed in the prosaic details of their education.

But for now, the bubblegum-pink-haired novacoke gal seemed to hold a little bit of Midori's interest, if not just to see what everyone was so hyped up about.

"Arctic! I'd love to do something like that but I'm afraid if I hate it, I won't be able to go back to this," Midori grinned, stroking her sleek black hair.

"Thank you, yeah, they're custom. I know a streetdoc who knew a guy, y'know?" Midori leaned forward to allow Bubblegum Pink to examine her irises, even sending up little floating hearts as an adorable, albeit benign flirtation. When she got called sexy in return, she grinned and decided if not now, when?

"You want to share some Bliss? My treat," Midori purred, revealing one of the vapes she'd tucked into her jacket pocket that she'd earmarked for herself. Midori would draw first if the woman was reluctant to, to let her see that it was indeed the genuine product. Was she trying to get an in with so obvious an attention-draw? Perhaps. It paid not to be the most noticeable person in the room, especially as a Japanese elf in San Francisco.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:18, Tue 12 Dec 2023.

"That's the best way to get hooked up, knowing someone. Too many sharks in the water out here who will just eat you the frag up and spit you out." she replied in rapid fire novacoke fueled staccato. Noticng your eyes, she gave a wide smile and a cute little squeal, "Are those for me? she laughed.

"Mmmm, that sounds so nice, but I think with what I just did, I should ride that out first. But can I give you a hug? I feel like this is a hug moment."

---

Pocsec:
Shadowlands // BayPlex

>>>> Looking to hire a decker for some ongoing work, nothing too spooky. I'll pay good for discretion. <<<<
- posted by Midori

>>>>:: LTG# 206 (52-4667)<<<<<
-posted by Splinter

You can play out texting with your new decker connection in this thread

"Of course you can," Midori laughed, reaching out to hug the young, novacoke-fuelled beauty. She embraced her close and affectionately, but also watched to see if her pockets felt anything strange happening. She didn't think that would be the case as she'd just offered some of her Bliss for free, but one never knew.

Once Midori had been released from the hug, she'd stick around for a few seconds, checking her PocSec quickly to find just what she'd been hoping for.

Pocsec:
Shadowlands // BayPlex

To: LTG# 206 (52-4667)
Hey. Need some intel work done and I'm willing to pay good for good work, maybe more than once depending on your skills. Need work done in San Fran area, like tonight if possible. Doable?

She dives in headlong for a tacklehug, unexpected abandon from the petite party girl. Your possessions are safe, but you modesty suffers a minor blow as she gives your backside a playful squeeze.

”Arctic. Come join us if you’re sticking around,” she says as you turn you attention to biz.

LTG# 206 (52-4667) :: Splinter
Day? Night? In my world, it’s all relative. But I do pwn the CalFree RTG and I only work in secure cred. Transfer 1¥ from a secure stick to the account I’ve given you, then we can talk details.

"Ooh!" Midori laughed as she felt the vibrant woman's hands go for her leather-clad rear. "Cheeky little minx, aren't you?" Midori laughed. She was feeling good and it was about time for her to pack it in for the night, anyhow. She had a potential decker on the line and that made her optimistic for tomorrow.

"I'd love to, for a little bit, anyhow," Midori smiled, sliding down into the nearest seat and patting her lap as though the pretty little novacoke fiend could sit on her lap if she liked.

Midori decided it was about time to Bliss out for a little bit, she was a habitual user and the club wouldn't care about a little Bliss if the gal in front of her was hoovering up Novacoke. Pulling one of the vape pens out of her jacket, she took a hit, then typed quickly back on her phone.

To: LTG# 206 (52-4667) :: Splinter
lol fine, in the next 12-18 hours, fair? Done and done, let me know when you've received it.

[outgoing transfer: 1¥ to Splinter]

The Bliss hits your blood, like cinnamon and black pepper flowing through your veins. In the pulsing electronic music of the club, the sound is drowned out when something is shouted in your direction...

Some Time Later...

Midori wasn't entirely certain how long she stayed at the club that night, it passed in a joyful blur of drinks and poor choices, eventually taking Miss Pink Hair back to her place, though rather unwisely considering she barely knew her. The evening passed in a blur of neon-pink and digital sparkles, and Midori awoke with the sound of the scheduled alarm of her PocSec, groaning in protest as she wanted nothing more than to snuggle into the blankets with the warm body next to her.

Shutting off the alarm, Midori yawned and began to collect clothes for the day both off the floor and from her dresser. She looked back at Miss Pink Hair and wondered if she'd been told a name. Pinkie? No. That wasn't it. Midori flicked open her PocSec and looked if she'd left herself any notes - she did that sometimes when Bliss Midori wanted to so a solid for Next Day Midori. Ro8siee. Hm, taking her spelling with a grain of salt, she decided the young woman was likely called Rosie.

"Hey, Rosie, you okay, girl?" Midori asked as she hopped into a pair of black dress pants, the kind that a female suit would wear: she had to look respectable today, after all. She was going to be making enquiries about Mio and it was important she didn't look like she was out to collect on a debt or disappear someone.

"I'm gonna have to get a move on, sweetie," Midori's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, as though she didn't want the young woman to feel like she was being rushed off. She was, but not because Midori hadn't enjoyed herself, but because she had work to do that she couldn't explain to the pink-haired woman.

Midori looked in the mirror and saw her makeup was utterly ruined - she clearly hadn't thought to take it off last night, so she walked to the attached bathroom, yawning as she began to run water to wash her face.

”Grm?” Rosie says as eloquently as anyone could expect as she rouses from deep sleep to find herself in the grips of a nova-bliss-was that fragging champagne(?!) hangover. She rolls out of the bed, glacially, seeking the few clothes she had worn last night.

By the time you have slotted your cred for Splinter and washed away the remains of last night’s eyeliner wings, she is up and dressed and tentatively sipping a can of sugar free ‘Creature’ energy drink that she rummaged from your barren cupboards. ”I’m glad I remember most of that,” she purrs, kissing you deeply on the way out the door, ”You got my number.”

How the frag does she still taste like wild cherry candy? Must be some kind of glandular augment.

You have a bit of a trek back to collect your bike and the walk combined with the BART ride gives you plenty of time to plan your next move.

Boyfriend? Parents? Highschool? Something else?

Midori smiled, not even minding the fact that Rosie had nabbed one of the last Creature cans she had stocked away when she saw Rosie's fine form and that she was so happy even the morning after.

"I do. I'll message you soon. Thanks for last night," Midori said genuinely, kissing her temple before sending her on the way with an affectionate pat on the rear.

Midori grabbed a small backpack-style purse that looked like something a suit would have - black leather, no ornaments nor obvious tech - and threw her makeup bag into it. She'd do her makeup on the BART like so many other suits. Her leather jacket thrown over top of everything completed her look - she didn't have much leeway on that if she was taking her bike back. She just hoped it was there and in one piece - she might have risked the ride back had she just been on Bliss, but the alcohol and the pillion weren't a good combo at the best of times, not to mention being off her mind on Bliss.

With the nuyen and specifics sent to Splinter, she had nothing to do but wait for something to come back while she travelled up to try and intercept the boyfriend, hopefully with Mio. The Pacific Coast Highway would be safer during the morning, and Midori wanted to make sure she could complete this run successfully in a minimum amount of time, and that meant relentless pursuit. Of course, success was no guarantee, neither was speed, but she'd been hired so either she was being set up or her employer genuinely figured they could complete the job.

Midori wouldn't immediately rock up to her bike when she returned to where she'd parked it, she'd sit and observe from across the street for a little while to see if she could spot any obvious signs of a stakeout or tampering to the vehicle. Like the old saying went, paranoia was just good thinking if you were right.

Boyfriend, hopefully with some info from Splinter for her received before she gets there, but if not she'll improvise.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:22, Fri 29 Dec 2023.

during the BART ride…

LTG# 206 (52-4667) :: Splinter
Your cred scans. Black star. Very Chiba.

What secrets does the web keep from you? Splinter can take your call or meet you on the LTG if you are so inclined.

during the BART ride…

To keep as much anonymity as possible, Midori maintained text communication:

I need you to pull anything on the educational records of these two individuals: attendance, infractions, which buses they're assigned to, etc. Class schedules if you can find them.

If you find anything else about them through their emails or whatever, I'll pay extra for it. Would prefer to deal with a competent decker long-term over risking fragging myself every time I need some data.

Midori hoped that the whiff of more nuyen would keep the decker on her side and show that she was willing to play game in a way he'd understand: cold, hard credits. Jimmy had made a similar comment about her Black Star stick, she wondered vaguely if there was a connection - if there was, she might be able to swing mates' rates next time -  if it wasn't, it might just be one of those funny coincidences that happened sometimes during runs.

[I realise that there is a chance that Midori doesn't have a name for the boyfriend, if that's the case she'll hand over the picture of the two at Renraku Park assuming Splinter could pull transactions for the park or facial recognition technology.]
This message was last edited by the player at 15:00, Sun 31 Dec 2023.

The girl. Easy.

The boy. All you have is a photo, a time and date?

This makes it more difficult.

Who knows you are looking? This can be fast and make noise or very quiet and take time.

The boy and the girl are known to each other. Social media, perhaps? Classes together? They met somehow.

My employer knows I'm looking. Well-resourced but keen not to flush our target early. Stealth over brute force at the minute - I'll let you know if the plans change and you can start breaking stuff.

x M

All is understood.

Splinter flies.

Your tradecraft is automatic. It’s a good way to stay sharp and stay alive. A few moments of watching the bike reveal nothing untoward or suspicious leaving you to conclude that your inquiries last night haven’t picked up any unwanted attention.

That’s good news. Between the investigation into Mio’s disappearance and the side action you’ve started to see how well you can get in biz with Gin, you’re going to have your hands full.

The ride to Outer Sunset helps clear the last remnants of the hangover leaving only fond, if fuzzy, memories of Ro8siee. By the time you get to the state sponsored school in Parkside, there is a note from Splinter.

Akihiro Kitada

Right! The boyfriend’s name. It was buried in the data that Tanaka-san had provided. Must have slipped your mind after things got going at Capone’s.

I forgot we had that detail already. My bad!

Something tells you this angle has been missed almost entirely. You can feel it, the family has under estimated the impact this guy had on the girl’s life. A teenage girl, running back and forth across town on the daily? That had to mean something, for both of them.

There had to be more data. They should be thousands of messages exchanged between them. Pining over the distance and the time spent apart. Their phones, their socials, their little private space on Shadowlands; something was out there.

Splinter is still working the Net. You’re at the boyfriend’s highschool. 21 Jump Street, Shadowrun style.

I forgot too, lol. No stress!

Midori got off of her bike, taking her helmet off. She undid the practical braid she kept her hair in while she was on the bike to keep it from tangling and to ensure that her helmet fitted snugly in case of an accident or attack.

She smoothed her clothes off, opening the leather jacket she was wearing to reveal the staid outfit she had on and she observed the building - what sort of security the school visibly had would inform her approach. She also looked to see how many Japanese-American students there were in contrast to the other students, wanting to see if she'd stick out like a sore thumb.

Midori checked her PocSec, smiling as she saw a name. She sent a small tip Splinter's way, trying to show her appreciation for his quick work. She wanted him on her side, she was certain that although she kept things pretty locked down, she wasn't a ghost on the Shadowlands. Decking wasn't her gig, after all. People were.

Midori looked up the school's public phone number and put on her best professional voice, explaining that she was from the Nippon Educational Institute and she needed to speak with Akihiro Kitada about an opportunity for him and his school.

Midori mentioned that she understood that it was unorthodox, but she was in the area now and could she come in and speak with him briefly in the school's office? Applying a bit of urgency to the situation could grease the wheels at times.

Of course, if Akihiro was 18 or over, he could sign himself out of school, but Midori wanted to exercise caution before walking into the school. She could enrol as a student but that'd require identification, identification required nuyen and time. Midori was chasing leads as quickly as possible.

Midori's ribs hurt where Rosie had been a little overenthusiastic with her kissing and kittenish biting, and so she rubbed her side while she awaited an answer from the receptionist. She knew that it might take some time to get an answer from the school officials, so she did what she could to keep mentally cool. She kept her head on a swivel, resting her helmet on the handle of the motorcycle, her PocSec pressed to hear elven ear.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 14:51, Mon 08 Jan.

Its slow going, but eventually the waiting pays off. "Hello, Ms Shimizu? This is Vice-Principal O'Reagan," came a woman's voice over your PocSec. "Would it be possible to come down to the school today to discuss Akihiro Kitada?"

It doesn't take long to make arrangements to meet with Vice-Principal if you are amenable to meeting at the school this morning. Well kept and shining new,  much like the rest of the district, the school looks clean and modern. A cartoonish yokai emblazoned on the flashing LED sign in front of the school alternatively declares, 'Home of the Tengu' and 'Mitsuhama: a proud corporate sponsor'. At this time of day, the students milling around the halls and common areas are few and far between, though you pass a handful of skate punks, clearly cutting class, sporting mohawks and giving you a lusty look over their mirroshades.

Classes are in session. The halls are empty and your heels click on the polished floor, echoing off the lockers that line the corridor on the way to the front office. You are met by an administrative assistant who ushers you into a small conference room where you are brought an autoheating can of soykaf and asked to wait a few moments. You are soon joined by a short and matronly woman with red hair and a splash of freckles across her nose. Her datajack tastefully mounted in a mother of pearl setting on her temple.

"You had asked about Akihiro?" she says after briefly introducing herself as Vice-Principal O'Reagan. "Is this pertaining to his disappearance?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:01, Thu 18 Jan.

Midori was amused by the glances of the skate punks, knowing that if she did so much as wave in their direction they'd crumble under the direct attention of a pretty woman. She wondered if she should chide them to go to class, Midori had actually been quite a dutiful student because her parents, Hana and Kenji, had kept her in line with typical Asian parent strictness. That had worked until she'd met Jun, and...

... no, now was not the time to think about Jun. She couldn't afford to consider that painful period of her life and her rapid descent into Shadowrunning. She didn't want to identify with Mio, Akihiro wasn't Jun, they were just two stupid kids that had gotten caught up in something larger than them.

Midori sipped the soykaf, not wanting to seem rude, and tried to keep composed. Administrative buildings always had the same sort of bland decor and silly corpspeak signage, and it was a familiar ground for Midori, who preferred to be welcomed in through the front door than crawl through a ventilation shaft.

His disappearance. Both of them had gone to ground. Of course, young and stupid lovers. Midori looked at Vice-Principal O'Reagan seriously, tilting her head to the side as she sought to weave both halves of her story together. O'Reagan was already offering valuable information, so Midori wanted this meeting to last as long as possible.

"Indeed, there was an opportunity I wished to present to Akihiro and his place of education, which according to the records that my organisation holds ... is here," Midori tried to play up a touch of corporate concern, as though perhaps it was all just a minor misunderstanding and that nothing was suspicious.

"Of course, if you say he's disappeared..." Midori trailed off, before going silent and regarding O'Reagan, as though she fully expected the other woman to pick up the sentence mid-way through. She sipped her soykaf, a troubled expression on her face.

Two stupid kids who let their feelings for each other run away with them. A tale as old as time. Was that what happened to Mio and Akihiro? If it was, at least the girl wasn't alone out there in the 'plex. If they had run together, maybe she was safe and they were finding a way together.

That, or the 'plex had swallowed them both.

You watch O'Regan's face, while pretending to sip your soykaf. The way she surreptitiously looks around to see who may be watching, or listening. The way her voice dropped just slightly when she asked if this was about the boy's disappearance. The way the corner of her mouth moves, twitching eagerly in the silence.

The red haired woman is an obvious gossip. She lives a sheltered life but yearns to be part of the stories she sees on the trids. Dreams of the excitement of the sims she runs in her jack.

She wants to share secrets, to bask in the drama like a lizard basks in the sun. She is resisting the urge, probably due to her professional obligation as the vice principal. If you pull those strings and play her tune, you are sure that she will dance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:12, Tue 06 Feb.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this," Midori said, and then paused, leaning inward as though she was sharing a confidential secret. Her luminous pupils were dimmed to almost a lilac-grey colour, to better disguise her less-than-legal leanings than the flare she wore when 'running.

"But you should know, as the vice principal: Akihiro has been scouted, and it's very important that he's found sooner than later, for the good of the school. If a rival org manages to sign him first, my boss will not be happy with me, and I won't be able to release the funds the school is due," Midori sighed, as though she had the type of boss who might say things like 'hit the ground running' and 'circle back to this' and she was only one more corpspeak term away from doing something she'd regret with a stapler and his face. Typical impotent suit-rage that the Vice Principal might have been able to resonate with.

"I'm sure you know about the girlfriend, right?" Midori smirked, as though it was a juicy secret that she was dangling in front of the adventure-hungry woman. Surreptitiously checking her PocSec to see if Splinter had come back with anything else, or maybe a tip had come in from the net she'd cast.

"Of course you do, you must be in the know about all of that already," Midori waved her hand like she knew they shouldn't be talking about it and she wasn't entirely certain if the woman knew, but that Midori would have to be convinced that O'Regan was trustworthy before she divulged any more juicy secrets.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:50, Tue 06 Feb.

"Well, I don't know for certain," she said conspiratorially, "But there was the girl from across town and they say that things between them were getting pretty serious. The two of them are just kids of course, but you know how kids are these days."

Knowing that there is a lucrative corporate sponsored opportunity on the line, that sometimes corps hand out generous finder's fees, but only when prospects are actually found, O'Reagan looks around to make sure you aren't observed, then flicks open a window on her PocSec. Twisting it toward you, she flips through pages of messages on a school social media board.

There are a dizzying array of pictures, comments and the ever present memes.  The vice-principal stops scrolling at a series of posts that went up the week before the teens disappeared. There is a picture of the two of them at a BART station. Mio is, quite surprisingly, still a young Japanese human girl, not yet an elf. That means her transformation and her disappearance happened in the same week. A much tighter timeline than you may have suspected.

That means she ran still acutely suffering from the trauma of her transformation. More potential for bad decisions.

"That's from when he disappeared. That's the girlfriend. She didn't go to school here though."

It also meant that Akihiro was probably a fragging puppy dog. Loyal and trying to support his girlfriend through the hardest moments of her young life.

There are timestamps and comments from friends on the photo. Splinter will want these details. Little bits that might fit into the puzzle the decker was piecing together from stray bits of data.

"Kids have always been this way, look at Romeo and Juliet," Midori smiled kindly, thinking that a mention of classic literature might relax the educator. Midori glanced over the pictures, wondering if they would help Splinter and tried to see if she recognised the BART station - she could talk to the staff if she needed to, or get security footage either legitimately or via a decker.

"She didn't go to school here? Was she not ... sufficiently talented?" Midori asked, trying to frame the school as a desirable place to be and to get O'Reagan's read on Mio. She knew staff were sometimes invested in the little romances they witnessed between students like trid soap opera: some educators found the young love charming.

Fragging puppy dogs. If Akihiro was a puppy-dog style boyfriend, he was like Jun, and she remembered what Jun had been like when her own transformation happened. Midori felt a knot of pain and grief as she reminisced about the way he'd kissed the points of her ears slowly, one at a time, and then her forehead, promising her that he wasn't going anywhere despite her fully expecting him to walk away from her. Jun never left her, not until the cold hand of death separated them permanently.

Midori shook her dark head, trying to dispel the thoughts of the past and focus on her current run. Akihiro and Mio running away together made sense, it was a delicate situation but with two people involved that was twice as many chances for one of them to make a mistake and reveal themselves.

"Do you mind if I get a copy of the photos? For promotional materials to be used after we locate Akihiro, naturally," Midori tried to sound confident and like it was a totally normal thing to ask for.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:09, Wed 21 Feb.

"Well I certainly hope they don't end up like Romeo and Juliet," she says, though you aren't entirely convinced that she wouldn't think the gossip of that the two dying teenagers, love-struck in each other's arms was the most delicious flavor of gossip.

"She seemed quite clever, in a conventional way. Not suitable for Parkside." she replies, falling easily into your trap. "They say she came from a family that was struggling a little financially, but I'm sure you know that Akihiro's family was quite well off. He was bright enough to have a full scholarship, of course, but it's not like they needed it. You can save the link to those pictures, of course."

It seems likely, based on the pictures and the timelines and the soppy posts on socials that you are reading on O'Reagan's PocSec, that the boy followed the girl into the 'plex. He would be dutiful. Caring. Thoughtful.

Dutiful, caring, thoughtful and, with daddy's credstick, a lifeline for Mio. A traceable lifeline...

...but only if Splinter could get a bead on him or, better still, if you could get a SIN. Even if those didn't pan out, tracing two people through the 'plex was easier than tracking one.

Visiting the school has paid off and you have a bit more to go on. You are now looking for both Mio and Akihiro.

"I mean, it would be a terrible tragedy, but I suppose the right person could spin it as a news story where a bright boy with a bright future who met a girl who wasn't... Parkside material, if you understand what I mean," Midori leaned in conspiratorially, giving the woman an understanding 'what can you do' expression, her delicate palms spreading as though she completely understood that occasionally, spin doctoring needed to be done to preserve important reputations.

Seeing them posts and Akihiro's determination to follow Mio into the 'plex, Midori wasn't encouraged: Jun had been the same sort of guy and she knew that Jun would have protected her under any circumstances. He had protected her. She promised herself she'd find this pair before what happened to Jun happened to Akihiro: girls like Midori were like magnets for bad luck and Midori figured Mio might be one of the same.

"Thank you, I'm certain this will be appreciated by my employers," Midori smiled as she saved the links, passing them over to Splinter as soon as she had them.

"There is one other thing, but no, I couldn't ask," Midori sighed, as though debating with herself whether to ask O'Reagan. "I know you're a busy woman, and so am I. I need Akihiro's SIN for a few of the registration documents and of course, there are the bureaucratic ways of getting it, but I'm happy to give you an... administration allowance for saving me from filling out all of those forms just for information that takes like, ten seconds to bring up," Midori smiled politely. Was she just offering a school official a bribe?

"Well, rumors are almost as good as referrals and corporate sponsorship," she mused, pointedly putting weight on the last two words. "That kind of information is of course available only to family, school administration staff and affiliated corporate partners."

She taps her chewed fingernails on the table top nervously, seemingly trying to muster up the courage to ask for what she really wants. "It would be a real privilege to help out a corporate sponsor. I would hope that proving my, umm, commitment to efficiency would give me a favorable letter of recommendation that I could include in my semi-annual self-assessment?"

Out on the streets there was a certain simple elegance to bribery. Poor people needed one thing. Cred. Mazlo and his hierarchy of needs could be figured out with a few well placed nuyen. Why? because poor people, even poor people with ambition, needed to fill their bellies first and their clips second.

No fragging subtlety needed. No corporate ladder and dreams of corner offices to contend with. No fragging Kelly in accounting who was seven years younger and fast becoming a little tramp around the office shaking her new implants at anyone who would look, all the while aiming at the same promotion.

Getting that SIN will make this run go a lot more smoothly, but how in seven hells can you get O'Regan that favorable assessment as payola to encourage her to go forward with breaking the rules?