”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, 100,000Â¥ 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…