The Circuit is a sprawling mecca of undesirables. These are the battered, the beaten, the harassed, the vengeful. They are the rebels and thieves, the saboteurs and assassins, the poor and beggars. These are truly the dregs of society, holed up in this underground society that stands as the antithesis of Polis.

Polis is rigid, stark, clean, and full of rules.

Circuit is a hellhole of freedom and anarchy. Anything goes, but beware who you cross because nobody cares if they have to scrape your carcass off the ground. Things are run tight down here, with a few shadowy hands guiding things along the way. The Circuit is full of connections and jobs for those willing to get them done.

The main area of the Circuit is a massive, wide open, sprawling cavern of natural origins. Stone passageways crisscross and interconnect in a maze-like mass that leads to this opening from all sides, with hundreds of entrances around Polis leading down into these caverns. The structure of Circuit isn't purely natural however, as additional buildings and man-made architecture has bee interposed in its halls. Gambling dins, brothels, arms dealers, smugglers- they all set up shop in the main halls, making it feel more of a bazaar than a city of illegal personnel.

Each of the main cavern's off-shoot branches and pathways all steadily feel more regulated and man-made, as they are more squarely cut and designed for people to walk through- but they lack all form of direction and indication of location, meaning it's entirely possible for someone to get lost in these halls if they aren't familiar with them. Many a corpse is found whenever the people of Circuit manage to work up the effort to go cleaning the halls out.

Those who work with the Circuit need not fear this however, as they know how to get to the Circuit's many key locations- however rumor and speculation has it that there are infinitely more places than most know how to reach, should you take the wrong- or right- turn at specified locations, and nobody knows where every entrance to the Circuit is.

One of the more prominent locations within the Circuit is OtherTown, a sort of shanty that was created and carved out by those fleeing persecution from above; The Others. This has the highest concentration of Elves, Dwarves, Goblins, Orcs- and whatever else may have been created by the Polis Scientific Institute's horrid experiments. Amongst Polis inhabitants, these are simultaneously the most passive and most explosive; either peace-seeking people, or those seeking revenge and martyrdom.

The Market is where the true business of the Circuit happens however. It's both an auction for unique goods, and a source of information if you know the right folks. This is where people seeking jobs go to in order to get in touch with the mysterious Job Brokers, known as 'Lawyers' as a joke against the topside society.

This is the Circuit as known to most, and it moves on as it always does.

----

Today the Market is a-buzz with big ticket jobs and people flooding for cash, and others cashing out after a succesful job. Cash exchanges hands and information is whispered in ears. Polis has something big in store for Circuit is the runor, and Circuit's buzzing with plans at striking back.

Rebelliousness is the primary air in the city tonight, as saboteurs and assasins alike band together and clog up the ordinarily clandestine, capitalistic, nature of the Market with their talk. However, the Market's nature of economical exchange always thrives for those seeking work, and several jobs of decent payout are available for those seeking a quick job.

Joshua casually strolled past the various hoodlums and vendors of the Circuit, as he made his way to shifu's newly designated meeting place. Today was his weekend training as usual, and he was looking forward to stretch his limbs and loosen up his mind after a grueling week of tests at school. However, he also heard the last time he met with shifu that he would also have a job waiting for Josh today. By the strange tone of his voice and twinkle in the old man's eye, Josh had a feeling it would be something bigger than the usual courier jobs he ran the past few months. He felt the nervous excitement tingle his spine; he wasn't exactly averse to making money on the side, but despite his family connections to the Dragon binding his consciousness, bending or breaking the law wasn't exactly his favorite activity, especially when coupled with the irony of studying law at school.

Normally, a 16 year old teenager like him walking the avenues of the Circuit would stick out like a sore thumb, unless he was a courier passing through or underage prostitute. No doubt its shady inhabitants gave him the leery eye as he passed by their dens, but Joshua wasn't worried about them going further than that. There went an unspoken rule in the Circuit: equal terms, equal trade, equal treatment. As long as Josh didn't purposefully make a nuisance of himself, no one would go out of their way to mess with him. And even if they did, pulling anything more than a punch against an unarmed kid could warrant them being thrown out and left to rot in an alley or on a stake; besides, some people already knew what happens when they pick a fight with a martial artist.

John Doe

A woman's voice.

"Do you enjoy taking those sorts of jobs?"

"Why do you ask?"

Then a mans.

"Because you did far more work than what you had been paid for."

"I liked the challenge."

"Christ, John.

"Don't judge me."

"She's not even sure if she's real or not."

"That's what I had been told to do."

"Your job was to provide a precedent for the insanity charges. That meant making her throw a scene in a public place because of you tricking her."

"I did that."

"Yeah, but you also gas lighted the living hell out of the poor woman."

"You'll still get your cut."

"That's your only real motivation, isn't it, John? Money?"

"Do you need a better one?"

"No.. Not really."

"That's what I thought. Listen, I gotta let you go. The default proxies on this are about to expire. The timer is in the single digits. Awright. It was a pleasure talking to you, Kailey."

"I prefer Kal."

"Too bad. Seriously, I have two seconds left. Bye."

"Okay. Goodby-"

CALL ENDED

John let out a soft sigh, and looked down at the cheap, already splintering phone in his hand. He had bought it a week ago, and it was likely to last maybe another month if he kept it before it broke apart into shards of plastic.

He was standing in the cramped bathroom of one of the Circuits noodle shops, places that only survived because they didn't have to pay any taxes on what meager earnings they got. This one had actual walls, instead of just canvas pitched against the cave walls. True, three of the walls were just stone made from a recess in the tunnels, but it was much more soundproof than similar establishments. Something that made John a regular here for when he needed to make his calls.

Prying open the case with practiced ease, John slid out two small SD cards, put the case back on. Tucking the chips into a jacket pocket, John dropped the now useless cellphone into a plastic baggy that was coated in wire mesh, a mini faraday cage, which was also stored in his jacket. When he returned to one of his safe houses, he would be able to dispose of it properly. Picking up his disguise suitcase, John opened the door and left the restroom. With a polite nod to the restaurant owner, he tossed a few coins onto the bar counter to pay for the untouched beer.

Feeling curious to get a state of the things in the Circuit, John walked towards the Market. Any community worth its salt lived and died by it's commerce. And the Circuit had the most interesting commerce of them all.

i have a job for you
$15000 if you accept
more if you complete
see you there

Emmi read and reread the email, her fingers tapping out an anxious beat against the desk. Beneath the text were a set of directions leading to a place called Lucy's Lovehouse. No doubt it was some brothel down in the slums of The Circuit. But why meet there? In fact, why meet in public at all? Most people requested the aid of K4B00M through hacker chatrooms and indirect contact. But to meet privately and directly? It was suspicious. A quick check proved the original sender untraceable. Oh yeah, definitely suspicious. It was trap made for idiots...

...or the utterly desperate.

$15000.
Emmi cast the duct tape covered monstrosity she called a table dubious glance. Piled high on top was a stack of bills, with some envelopes already overflowing to the floor. It was a miracle the landlady hadn't kicked her out yet. Emmi's eyes switched back to the monitor screen. $15000 and more...

With a resigned sigh, Emmi switched off her computer. She grabbed her laptop and, after a moment of hesitation, a kitchen knife. The blunt edge was probably as harmful as a fly against a lion, but where she was going, being armed was better than nothing.

---

The Circuit was, much to a her chagrin, as loud and crowded as ever, if not more. Emmi gripped her laptop case closer to her chest and pulled her jacket hood farther over her head as merchants called out in an attempt to sell their illegal goods. A couple of prostitutes, mistaking her boyish looks, gave flirtatious winks while showing off more than Emmi needed to see. A couple of pickpockets eyed her with interest, only to be shooed off with a sharp glare. How she hated going down here. Then again, Emmi held a deep contempt for going anywhere. It was the online Circuit that Emmi preferred, where she became the infamously arrogant K4B00M and not an anxiety filled hermit. But sacrifices had to be made.

A bright, neon pink light caught Emmi's eye. Nestled inbetween a rowdy bar simply called The Saloon and a shady pawnshop was a rundown establishment painted with faded shades of pink and red. Lucy's Lovehouse. Save for a handful of pickpockets and drunkards lingering around the front, the location was mostly empty, if not abandoned.

Emmi slowed, doubt flickering across her mind. This was either a trick that led to death, or a reward of an easier life. With one hand gripping her laptop and another clenching her knife, Emmi pushed through the door and stepped inside.

---Joshua; A Day To Remember---
Most people avoid Joshua, and others intentionally bump shoulders with him and grunt in an antagonizing manner. Such is life in the Circuit. Children are uncommon sights indeed, but teenagers are often the beginnings of the most hardened criminals in the Circuit and, while they are more uncommon as frequent visitors, the occasional one is spotted still.

Joshua, being a frequent visitor and a decently known associate of the triads due to his courier work, would not have any trouble avoiding serious hassles however. His path through the main cavern of the Circuit isn't impeded much, and within a timely fashion he finds himself following one of the obscure paths that the Triads mark as their territory to the side cavern that his Shifu had set up as a rudimentary dojo- doubling as a meeting ground for the Triad leaders when meetings and discussions were to be had.

The location did shift every so often as new leaders came and went, and paranoia set in, but thus far Joshua's Shifu had always been a part of the moving process.

As Joshua approaches, a single gunshot is heard erupting from the tunnels ahead of him, where he knows just around the corner is the dojo itself.

---John Doe; Cold Hard Cash and the Big Man---

John's beer is swept off the table by one of the nameless faces of the bar as he tosses his cash to the 'tender, and the somewhat familiar and, thus, comfortable cycle of John's visits finds itself repeating. John arrives, gets a drink, pays for it, leaves- and someone else, and as far as John is aware it's the same person every time, takes the drink and downs it for him. Almost a ritual of sorts, if one were to shine it in that light.

John's movements through the Circuit are unimpeded. He's as faceless down here as anyone else, and knowing him he'd try to make that doubly true- well, aside from the few contacts he needs in order to work his trade that is.

And one such contact is readily apparent in the Market- one Victor O'Henry, a loan shark known as the 'Big Man' of loans down in the Circuit...generally speaking, it's well known he's one of the driving forces behind the Circuit's economy, almost singlehandedly funding a vast majority of the Circuit's clandestine efforts and attempts at organizing into a competent force- a mostly futile effort, but the man wields impressive power nonetheless due to his loan shark nature, his mafia rivaling the power of the triads and Patchwork Gang [The Other gang, to summarize].

The Big Man sits in the Market, at his usual position in the far back recess of the cavern where his extraordinarily large bodyguard, known as Lead Mike due to his considerable strength and power, stands abreast the Big Man's chair.

On the table before the Big Man is a white card, adorned with stark black words which signal who he seeks to speak with next. None dare approach him save those he himself wishes to talk to, and today this card has none other than...

John Doe

written plainly across its surface.

---K4b00m; A strange start---

K4b00m//Emmi finds herself, once again, in the Circuit physical. While the Darknet Circuit that she frequents and prefers is more her style, this last job she was offered was a bit more big ticket in comparison to the standard hack job she would be offered- and she could easily assume that would be, at least in part, due to the difficulty of the task.

Lucy's Lovehouse, as she suspected, is a brothel. Its musk and rancid stench of perfume and sweat is difficult to get past, but when she steps through the front entrance of the tent flap that guards the tunnel used for the brothel an orc, of all things, carrying a large, lever action, shotgun of all things, just studies her.

"Yer not here for the gerls." the Orc grunted, before jutting its chin towards a side tunnel. "Room was rented for ya by 'anonymous', but no girl was bought out. Must have ya an admirer, sweetheart."

The orc's guttural laughter followed suit.

"Eh, don't care. We got paid, I don't even care if you go into the room."

and with that the Orc leaned back against the wall, shotgun in hand, as he reached down to a small wooden table and picked up a lit cigar, bringing it up to his fanged mouth and inhaling deeply, eyeing Emmi over once with dissatisfaction before shutting his eyes and seemingly dozing off in the same instant- the shotgun still firmly gripped in hand.

The tunnel he had directed Emmi at was, most definitely, separate and secure in comparison to the tented main cavern of the brothel, with its low ceiling. She could assume it was usually rented out for private jobs- but what she does once hearing this information that the room was set aside for her is up to her.

Joshua momentarily froze at the sound of the gunshot, and for a few seconds his mind raced for any probable explanation. The sound wasn't exactly foreign to his ears; the Dragons always had some sort of infighting going on between rival factions, not that he would know much about, as his family fortunately wasn't closely related to one. Occasionally one would ring out during his weekly lesson, and he learned to grow less startled from it over time, as Shifu simply gave him a sly wink and bade him continue. However, before a lesson, and from what he could tell with growing anxiety, in very close proximity to his location, was certainly new. He heard whispers that his current wuguan (dojo) also doubled as a meeting place between the Triad leaders, but as the room was normally bare except for a few mats laid on the floor for when he usually came in, no evidence showed of any such gathering. Plus, why assassinate someone in public rather than in their own private quarters? A planned murder in a room where a weekly visitor was expected wasn't exactly smart, and defied the Dragon's usual modus operandi of crime scene cleanup, unless it was out of desperation...or setting an example.

Josh took a deep, quiet breath to steady his nerves, and as he exhaled toe walked to the edge of the entrance. He flattened his body against the wall, and steeling himself for the sight to come, slowly peeked his head around the corner.

John Doe:

A small frown forms on John's face. Running through a mental checklist of everything that he's done recently, John ducks his head and begins to stagger slightly, swaying back and forth, bobbing up his head and down, still walking in a circuitous way towards the Big Man. Reaching into his another one of his jacket pockets, John takes out another cell phone- this one still inactivated yet. As John opened up the smooth phone case and placed the two SD cards inside the phone, taking care not to drop them. Despite looking somewhat grubby from all the handling the cards received, the two cards were among the most valuable things John owned. They kept the majority of his business contacts and passwords to various digital aliases. All contracts were copied and stored on these two cards. The amount of storage on these cards was roughly the equivalent to an entire server bank. It cost him enough money to buy a mid-sized yacht.

The reason for John reinstalling the SD cards were two-fold. First, it had to be done, or otherwise he wouldn't be able to send untraceable phone calls. A loophole in the Polis legal system stated that no tracking or recording of information from street purchased phones for the first 8 days since activation, or 90 minutes of phone service. John had bought some proxies to run for cybernet searches from a Circuit hacker that went by the name of HOAX which he kept on the SD card. Neither of the two had met, but John had hired him a few times via another proxy to provide digital trails for some of his aliases. He had done a good job, shame he had disappeared.

The second reason was that as John was reminiscing about long-gone Circuit hackers, steadily setting up his new-yet identical phone, he had been giving everyone the impression of a strung out opiate addict playing with his phone while he walked around during a high. John had sucked his cheeks in, giving him the impression of gauntness. Those his fingers were clean, they shook as they played with the phone. He dragged his suitcase listlessly, making sure to keep it on one wheel the entire time. Of course, his clothing was too clean for it to pass anymore than the slightest of scrutiny, but he wasn't too concerned about that right now.

And instead of bee-lining towards the Big Man, John had moved around the side of the cavern, moving out of Lead Mike's range of vision.
John continued now towards the Big Man, readying himself for unwanted conflict if it came to it. He doubted Lead Mike would feel an electric dart very much. Good thing he could shoot multiples.

John had come just outside of Mike's striking distance when he straightened up, saying in a somewhat mocking brogue,

"O'Henry. I dinna know what you need yer good mate John fer. What can I do fer yah, laddie?"

The looks of startled shock and sheepishness on Lead Mike's and the Big Man's face was a reminder of why John did the job he did.

With a muttered, "Thanks,", Emmi warily made her way past the Orc and towards the tunnel. Her stomach churned violently. Not from the stench -- though that certainly didn't help -- but from unease. This whole situation was suspicious, no doubt about it. She had heard stories of beginning hackers falling for similar traps, only to be ambushed by authorities or pissed off victims. But Emmi wasn't a beginner. Just desperate cracker armed with a kitchen utensil.

Emmi took a nervous breath and slipped into the room. a few lights were wired along the stone ceiling, giving off a hellishly crimson glow. A large bed lay on the far side of the room and a couch sat beside. The mix of sweat and aphrodisiac was, thankfully, less potent here. Poised on the sofa was a person, their features hidden in shadow. No doubt that this was the mystery sender. "I have to say," she spoke, keeping her voice light and joking despite her shaking hands, "I've never had a secret admirer before. Though I'm pretty sure you're supposed to send flowers and not creepy letter."

---K4b00m---

As she entered the room and closed the door, the figure remains still. She speaks, and still the figure remains stagnant. After a moment, a blindingly bright flash erupts from the shadow and dazzles Emmi's eyes.

A few seconds later, a screen flashes to life and illuminates the shadows- casting its glow over the human shaped dummy that was poised on the couch, holding a webcam facing the door, which was linked up to a laptop in its lap.

The words 'I see you' were written on the dummy's faceless head, and as the laptop screen buzzed to life a picture of Emmi appeared on the screen next to the following words;

'I see you K4b00m, have to admit I thought you'd be fatter- or, at least, more...nerdy. You seem rather average to me, actually, but I think I'll hold onto the picture for a while nonetheless. Maybe it'd make a good avatar? No matter. You're here, the photo will be deleted upon the job's completion, and you will receive $15,000 up front for bothering to show up.

However, I don't intend to let you back out. Word on the Net is that you're a damned good cracker, at least from your boasts and cocky messages that would seem to be the case, and everyone you've worked with thus far have had nothing less than good things to say about your performance. Let's say, you've caught the attention of a rather influential figure and said figure wants you to do a specific task.

You'll find the promised cash in the dummy's other hand.

As for the task we need you to do... Well, if you're as good as we're hoping it'll be a piece of cake. We're forming a team, and you'll need to work together to pull this off. If you abandon this mission, you will be found and it will not be pleasant for you.

If you succeed at the task, consider your payment a blank check based on how well you handle the task. Success means more work- our influential figure has a plan and needs people of your caliber to pull it off. You do things right, the least you walk away with will be over one hundred G's- damn more than enough to warrant this much trouble, eh?

Anyway I'll get to the point; Thanatos Medical. It's gotten huge, fast, and I'm sure you've heard the rumors- they're all over the Net and even in the Circuit proper. It's one of the most popular conspiracies of modernity. Tinkerer, one of our own, is now one of the enemy?- Dove the Matrix and ended up turning coat and springing up a business?

Our influential figure wants to be clued in on the truth, which means we need you on-sight and finger deep in some of that company's code.

We're arranging a team meetup, you'll receive the deets when the specifics are clicked

from M1k3y <3'

Should Emmi search for the promised cash, it would seem M1k3y has a sense of humor and the hand gripping the money is stuffed down the dummy's pants.

--John Doe--

Lead Mike slowly swivels his gaze down to John and studies him once slowly, before giving a grunt and folding his arms across the barrel he calls a chest and allowing the positively monstrous mass of muscle he bears to be readily apparent due to his lack of sleeves.

Big Man himself seems less than enthused by John's playful/coy approach.

"Look. People around here are the nobodies that ain't seen nothin', aint' that right?"

When the Big Man spoke, it felt like the world stopped to listen. His words carried that much weight and authority, and even the roar of the Market seemed to die down to listen to his words. It didn't truly quiet down one bit, but everyone who had an inkling of glancing at John or the Big Man at this time all cried out 'We're the nobodies that ain't seen nothin' to mimic the Big Man, before the unspoken order for solitude was obeyed and, despite the crowded area, John and the Big Man would spend the conversation without fear of eavesdropping or interruption.

"Now that we've got some space cleared." the Big Man's smirk was only controlled by his lighting of a cigar and placing it on his lips. "I've got a job for you. Semi personal, pays well, and damned simple if the team I'm putting together is all its cracked up to be. Interested?"

The Big Man didn't beat around the bush, he hit the nail on the head and drove it home until he got what he wanted.

--Joshua Xie--

As Joshua sidled up to a corner, a short man in a pinstripe suit- rising up only to the height of 5 foot tall- came casually swaggering around the corner, a fedora atrociously perched atop his head. His suit was of such a fine make, it was obvious that he had it tailor made and crafted at a cost far more than any suit would ever be worth making at. He stopped and hesitated as he came around the bend, before his face split into a big grin at seeing Joshua.

"Sup, Chief. I'm warnin' ya-- crazy motherfuckers in this place."

The man casually pat Joshua on the shoulder as he swaggered past, disregarding any sort of formality or even social standard for conversation.

"Triad's fuckin' insane, but I know that guy's type all too well. If my hunch is right I'll be seein' you in a few hours- don't get shot and we'll see how well you handle something more than playing post boy, eh kid?"

And with that the man would tip his hat and dash off, not allowing Joshua to get a word in edgewise through his incredibly fast speaking and carefree mannerisms. He was gone as fast as he was there, and as soon as he was out of sight something sprung up and stole Joshua's attention away--

Another gunshot, this time followed by a ferociously loud masculine scream as the broken form of a man hit the ground outside the rudimentary 'entrance' of the dojo. A few moments later, Joshua's Shifu cautiously emerged and crouched down to check the man's body, whispering softly before looking up and noticing Joshua.

"Boy, you are lucky, for today you are honored by witnessing the rise of the new Dragon."

Joshua could tell his Shifu's words were strained, as if he were angered, or saddened, or perhaps both.

Victor Wilson

Today was payday. That stupid drug dealer, J.T. for which he delivered some drugs, a couple of weeks ago kept delaying him with the rest of the cash he was supposed to give him. But today was the big day. The bastard finally had the money and was ready to pay. He walking through the stony halls of The Circuit heading to the Market, with a map in his hand, even though he knew the place well the place was so complex you could easily get lost in here. As he was looking in the map a prostitute tried to pick him up. "Hey baby, want some action!" Victor stopped, looked at her for a second and smiled. "Not if I wanna become sick!" He said still with a smile on his face as he moved along to his destination. After arriving at the Market, Victor puts the map in an inside pocket of his leather jacket and starts looking for a bald black man with an eye patch over his left eye. The Market was a real buzz today. All kinds of people looking for work. Then he spots the guy as he starts to dodge people and grab J.T. by his right arm, turning him around.

"Hey, you got my money?" Victor asked with a serious look on his face. "Yeah, come with me." Said J.T. as he leaded Victor to what looked like a restaurant, or fast-food or something. J.T. and Victor get inside and take a table. "Sorry for all the trouble I caused you. Here's your money. He said as he reached to the inside of his coat and pulled out a wad of cash, placed it carefully on the table and slides it towards Victor who takes the money and hides it away inside his leather jacket. "You better not pull this off again. If you want me to keep doing your dirty work. Now if you excuse me, have a nice day. See you next time." Said Victor rising from tha table and getting out of the fast-food. Just as he was getting ready to return to the surface and get back to the car shop, his cell phone rang. Victor looked dissapointed at the screen of his phone. It was Rebecca. "You sure know how to pick your moments." Said Victor to himself as he responded. "Hello..."

Joshua could only give the short man a wide eyed stare as he waddled right out the door, and was thinking furiously of what to do with him when he heard the second gunshot. He ducked behind the corner as the lifeless body landed with a thud next to him, fresh blood seeping from its head; Josh gagged and proceeded to stare at the ceiling, steadying his breathing and pulse. Then Shifu appeared right beside him checking on the body, and by then he had enough; what in heaven's name is going on!?!?!

He peeled away from the wall and sidestepped into a ready stance, standing upright with his arms loose yet coiled at his sides, in case Shifu maybe an impostor. Enough Chinese operas held by the Triad associates told him that their performers were equally adept at stage makeup and masters of disguise for more covert purposes, plus he was in shock that Shifu wasn't dead; for a moment he thought the only possible victim was him! But his suspicions were smothered as Shifu looked up at him, and studied the old man's familiar creased face as he brought his fist and palm together in the salute. Hearing Shifu's bitter tone of voice however just brought back Josh's confusion, and he struggled to not be rude and spew out careless questions.

For one, who was the man in the pinstripe suit? By his leisurely manner and off putting remark on the Triad, he certainly wasn't a close business associate, at least those who back one of the factions for self profit. His rapid speech suggested a dealer's demeanor, and likely one in contracts as he knew Josh's previous occupation; it's possible Shifu hadn't been playing the direct middle man after all. But his last sentences, "...but I know that guy's type all too well. If my hunch is right I'll be seein' you in a few hours..." could tie in with what Shifu implied. As the most direct and jarring transition of leadership for the Dragon that Josh had ever witnessed, and he was about to meet him, as an uninitiated.

Kris mustered up his words, and in greeting he spoke, "Shifu, to what exact lengths does this honor extend to me? Is it connected to the task you mentioned the last time?"

John Doe

A wan, non-revealing smile pressed onto his face; John's mind begins to race as he slunk into the folding chair that sat across the table from the Big Man.

Risks:
1) This is a set-up, either by a rival con, Polis itself, or, most frighteningly, Molly.

2) Assuming the Big Man was being genuine about the offer, this could still end up with him dead and his body being fed through an incinerator. Any job taken faces the risks of being killed.

3) The pay-off is minimal. A lot of work for little pay is rarely satisfying.

Risks 4 through 40) Seeing Molly.

Rewards:

1) Being able to get back at a rival, or a Polis law enforcer who caught wind of him.

2) The sheer pleasure of working such a tight-rope career is the most fun, truth be told.

3) So, so much money. Things are rarely cheap around the Big Man.

4 through 41) Seeing Molly.

Doe's smile becomes a bit more genuine as he considers the deciding factor in his choice.

Settling more comfortably into his chair, -he's going to be here a while- John looks directly at the Big Man in the eyes.

"Let's discuss these terms, shall we?"

--Redline--
"Hey."

Not a good start, a cool greeting. No real affection present, just another one of Rebecca's cool greetings; as if Victor weren't any more special than a phone call from anyone else despite her having called him. However, she did call him, so it was fairly obvious she wasn't particularly angry or upset about anything.

"Week from now, big dinner, fancy food, no cameras?"

This portion of her sudden call, lacking any hesitation after her initial 'hey', introduced a bit more emotion into her voice; a certain lilt that seemed both amused and hopeful, but also suitably restrained.

Of course, the phone buzzes as soon as she gets done prompting this hopeful question. The screen flashes with a message notification from a rather familiar fellow; Daniel Grimwald, otherwise known as Fancy Dan, enforcer of the Big Man.

--Joshua Xie--

Shifu lifted himself up and approached Joshua slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he placed himself behind the lad and faced the dojo.

"Be strong, boy, chaos has shifted and things will change. The triads finally have someone who will bring forth stability."

It sounded as if the older man was reciting the words rather than meaning them, but there was the unmistakable hint of fear in his voice. As he spoke, a form appeared in the doorway; they were thin and tall, and young- most importantly young- but carried themselves with an air of pure conviction and determination. The person's arm was held across his chest, gripping his shoulder tightly as blood blossomed from beneath his hand.

It would seem those gunshots Joshua had heard had been directed- and had even hit- this man, and yet he still walks.

"I present to you, Joshua...Han. His old name forsaken, he takes upon the title of Dragon younger than any before him, and in his first decree to the triads as its leader he has declared all uninitiated to be henceforth...initiated. Which means you'll be given a task now, today."

The man's words were hesitant as he neared the end, but the man addressed as 'Han' laughed. As he moved forward out of the dojo, it became apparent to Joshua that the man wasn't thin- that was a trick of the clothing he wore- but rather athletic and hard, and his height is the primary factor in his 'thinness'. He stopped by the broken form on the ground and looked to it wolfishly, before bringing a foot up and slamming it down onto the body's torso.

"Bullets cannot harm one whose conviction and dedication is true. This is just a flesh wound, my spirit surges more than ever." Han spoke to the body beneath his foot, the corpse being incapable of response. "Should my body fail, my spirit would inhabit another. I have no fear of death, only a dream for our brothers." As he spoke, an aura of power and control seemed to wash over him and it became apparent that the wound in his shoulder, which would have left most writhing in pain or even incapacitated, hardly affected him.

Two other, older, men emerged from behind 'Han' and eyed him warily. One of the duo had a pistol in their hand, but the man accompanying him placed a hand on the weapon and pushed it down with a shake of his head.

Joshua had never seen these men before, but they were instantly recognizable as the leaders of the various branches of the triads, and as Joshua's shifu lead him forth towards Han the corpse on the ground was also made readily recognizable as a man who had often visited with Joshua's Shifu during their trainings to consult. The situation was obvious to Joshua; 'Han' had just usurped a branch of the triad and catapulted himself into command, at an age that Joshua would guess was closer to his own than to any man who had controlled the Triads before him.

"Ah, yes." Han said, lifting his head and breathing in deeply. He slowly spread his arms as if embracing the world, then let his hands extend to Joshua. "For too long we have been held down by tradition that is older than even our oldest members. We've squabbled with civil war rather than solidifying our strength. We need youth, not corpses, to fill our ranks."-- the last comment warranted Han tilting his head and peering back at the two standing in the entrance of the dojo. "...However, co-operation trumps radicalism and brute force. I am not without wisdom, and I see that we must change with gradual progression rather than sudden transformations. I trust that you two will not hinder my dream for the Dragon?"

Neither man spoke, simply bowing their heads and stepping back into the dojo.

Han grinned wolfishly, and turned his attention back to Joshua.

"Good. Now, as for you...you get to do a special job as your initiation. Prove yourself loyal and useful and your future will be glorious. The Big Man and his...mafia...have proposed a joint operation that is immensely profitable and beneficial to all involved, and I've decided to send you as our representative."

Joshua's Shifu stiffened, but stayed silent.

--John Doe--

"The terms are like this; $15,000 up front just for saying yes, and a very considerable sum for operation completion. It's dangerous, but I can't give you any more information until I know you're on board. Confidentiality, son, is a standard of business. Just know you'll be hitting one of the big corps, but nothing government- purely private. That's all you're getting up front. If you're out, leave, if not let's discuss things further."

The Big Man was blunt and informal, but as displayed before he carried weight.

"I'll also tell you now that it's a team effort, and you'd never be able to do this alone."

So she wasn't dead. That was good. And the meetup wasn't a scam. Even better.

Emmi grimaced at the picture (definitely not her best shot) before skimming over the words. Thanatos Medical. She knew the name well, and the rumors even better. It was a subject she saw frequently saw around hacker chatrooms, and even her father, way back when, would gossip about the sudden rise of the company. The Tinkerer himself, what with his Matrix Dive, was one of the few people Emmi almost respected. Almost.

Her gaze drifted to the dummy. Annoyance filled her eyes as she stared at the particular position of its hand. "Oh hardy har," she grumbled. Setting down her knife, she stuffed her hand down and grabbed the cash. Whoever this 'M1K3Y' was was some wiseass.
Emmi withdrew the bills and flicked through them. Five...ten...fifteen grand, just as promised. The job in question was no doubt a going to be a challenge. But Emmi liked challenges, and she loved beating challenges.

"Alright, then." A small smile danced across Emmi's face as she stuffed the cash into her jacket pocket. "Looks like I'm in business."

Soren smirked as he clambered over a familiar fallen board in one of his favorite positions for hunting his targets, the rafters of an old, neglected warehouse that provided a surprisingly serene view of the chaos that was the Circuit's market. He knew his quarry would be somewhere on the western edge of the bazaar-like area, and set up on the eastern side of the building to compensate. He set his rifle on the crate beside him and sat down, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his coat, and...
'Shit.' He only had one left, and needed it for when he pulled the trigger. Personally, he believed they steadied his nerves. Medical professionals said otherwise, but he'd never missed a shot while smoking. 'Well, better not break the streak now.' The marksman got up and started to pace, then noticed a stark white slip of paper tacked to the northern wall after a few rounds across the beams he'd become accustomed to walking.
'That wasn't there last week, who the hell got up here..?' He slowly made his way over, carefully stepping over a few rotted planks he'd made the mistake of falling through several times before, and grinned at a fresh hole in the floor. 'Well, he didn't get out unscathed, I know that much.' The sniper swiped the note from the wall and read it over, mouthing out the words.
'Come to the coffee shop north of your blind after you complete your business. I'll be waiting for you, Hox. Signed, a paying customer.' This had suspicion written all over it, but he needed another regular contractor. One was nice, but that one was a semi-psychotic arms and drug dealer with a thick accent. A sane contractor would be a nice change of pace.
Soren glanced down at his watched and smiled. Zero hour. He picked up the sniper rifle he had rested on a crate and lit his final cigarette, stuck the end between is lips, took aim at his target through the large hole in the wall, ran a few quick calculations, and squeezed the trigger. All that was left of the poor sod after the bang was a cloud of pink mist and a stump for a head. Dead in a heartbeat.
With the clean kill, Soren left the warehouse like he had left it, destined for a meeting in a coffee shop down the street.

---Emmi//k4b00m---

Upon her verbal agreement, the picture faded away and a few sparse words appeared on the screen.

'Glad to have you on board. As I said earlier, we'll be hitting Thanatos Medical. Tinkerer's damned good at what he does, and we have word from the boss that he has verification that it is, in fact, the Tinkerer we're about to try and hit. Tinker used to work for the Big Man- who is now hiring you- and broke off a few years back when Big Man had him hit the Polis Scientific Institute. Big Man wants the data that Tinkerer stole, but we can't get access to it remotely.

We have to assume Tinker keeps it close, or on a remote system, or possibly even in an encrypted personal drive he keeps off the network. All we know is that Thanatos exists because of that info, otherwise the science institute would have a monopoly by now.

It's some illuminati level shit, to be sure, but that means you'll have to gear up for an on-sight crack, meaning you'll be up close and personal with some highly advanced software and possibly gunfire if things go to shit. We're forming up a team that the Big Man feels will be able to pull this over on the Tinkerer, and he handpicked you, so you should probably take that as a vote of confidence. If the names I'm getting are correct and match up with their reputations, then you've got solid allies.

I'd recommend you do your homework on Thanatos, doll. Get familiar with their systems, see if you can't find a weakness that I missed. Oh, and get a haircut, or some makeup, or do some pushups. I'm running out of things to insult about you, which is honestly a rarity for me, so unless you have specific questions I don't know what else to tell you, and I don't want to stay connected to this system much longer.
-M1k3y'

---Soren---
The pink cloud faded, leaving behind a corpse. After but a few moments, the body was dragged off- such was life in the Circuit. Nobody had a face except those who made one for themselves, and those people had targets on their backs more often than not. A faceless, remorseless, mass; the Circuit.

Soren's path up the street was rather uninhibited, but the 'The Coffee Shop' as the note had stated was left up to a rather ambiguous definition, and after a short while of searching he eventually found a building that stood out as a sort of oddity in the Circuit's bazaar proper; an Other run business, but one that appeared to be almost elite in comparison to the run-of-the-mill swill bars- The legendary club, 'The Coffee Shop'. Of course, calling an 'other' establishment elite is somewhat of an oxymoron, but it clearly has higher maintenance and support than any of the other buildings that aren't run by the primary gangs of the Circuit.

As Soren approached, it would appear that a rather short, thin, elf woman acted as bouncer. She was decked out in neon colors, and her hair was a surreal wave of color that cascaded down to her neck in an even bob. Her ears extended undeniably far along her head, and a tattoo across her face marked her as a member of the Patchwork gang. At her hip was a revolver, and her hand rested upon her hip seemed quite twitchy as she eyed the ordinary humans who passed to and fro.

Strangely enough, humans seemed to give the place a wide berth- but to any lengthy inhabitant of the Circuit, it'd be well known that this was a hotspot for Others, and a place that the Elves specifically ran- and excluded human presence within.

Humans have tried to force their way in in the past, but the Patchwork gang's efficiency and brutality was legendary for these transgressors. However, the club was heavily coated in rumor and posed quite the mystery for all the non-humans who ever spent their time drinking sorrows away.

What Soren does with the discovery that 'a coffee shop' meant 'THE coffee shop' was up to him.

Soren grimaced at the sight of the elf woman, but not because she was an elf, race played no role to him. It was the tattoo on her face that made him stop and start towards an alley to the side of the building, which had a ton of racial slurs aimed at anything that was considered un-elven on the opposite wall of The Coffee Shop. 'Patchworks, of course. They're at every goddamn turn'

He leaned on the elven establishment's wall, tapping the side a few times when he remembered an old friend from the militant police up top, an elf that had probably been his closest friend before the human had up and left Polis.

[Central Polis, Seven Years Prior]

A significantly younger looking, out-of-uniform Soren came out of a bar with a drunk elf by the name of Mortoris, the former having to lean on his long time friend.

"Soooooren... ya listenin'? 'Cause I-Imma do sumthin' no one else on thiz planet'll do fer ya..." The drunk one stammered.

"If you're gonna get all sappy with me, Mort, I don't wanna hear it."

"Nah, nah... it ain't nuthin' like, *hic* that..."

"Then what is it, you drunk little elf?" The olive-skinned officer had to stop and laugh at that for a moment.

"I'mma do a thing... a thing that'll make you conzi-, conshi-, like an elf..."

"And how are you gonna do that without sticking nails through my ears?"

"I'm makin' you, uh, what'sh the werd..? Oh! Elven.. Elvenkin, I think." The drunkard pulled a laminated card from his pocket, and without missing a beat signed it in a blue pen, his signature perfect despite his current state, then handed it to the human sniper. "This'll git you anywherr, an' I mean anywherr, that keeps hoomans out... ya ken even brin' a frien'..." The elf passed out after what Soren assumed was 'friend'.

He carried the alcoholic home in a mile long, uneventful trip.

[Present Day]

Soren smirked and pulled his wallet out, removing the signed card from Mortoris from one of the many pockets that usually held credit or debit cards. He made his way out of the alley with the piece of old plastic in his right hand, the left training towards the standard-issue pistol on his chest in case someone tried something. Patchworks weren't to be trusted in any way, shape, or form. But the Circuit had unspoken rules, one of which was to watch out for your kin.

"Hey, Rainbow, I want in." He stated bluntly, holding the card out to the small bouncer. It was quiet clearly stated that Soren, picture included on the ID, was to be given the same rights as any elf that existed freely. All there was to do now was wait for the response.

---Soren---
As he approaches the bouncer, she blatantly gives him a once-over glance that isn't unsimilar to the once-over glance a jock would give a cheerleader in a moment of bodily appraisal, before ultimately settling with a dissatisfied smirk as her hand dropped to the revolver at her hip and rested on its hilt.

Soren extends the card to her, and she stiffens and takes it, studying it critically under a hard gaze.

"Lucky, not Rainbow, asshole." She said in a high pitched voice that rather completed her pseudo-adorable ensemble. "...Damn, this is a tight spot. I can't let a hume in, but you're elfkin. This is weird." She glares up at him. "The fuck'd you do to get this? Know what, I don't even want to know. Why you want in anyway?"

It seems she's actually contemplating letting him in, and it's obvious the fact she's doing anything less than aiming a gun at his head is a miracle procured by his possession of this elfkin license.

Josh gave a sideways glance at Shifu, taking note of his unease and making a mental note to discretely question him later. Then mustering a direct yet subservient tone towards his new founded superior, he replied, "To be honest, I did not expect an initiation at my young age, and I know my brothers from other families would not be expecting this. Nor do I understand why my family's honor has been chosen to be placed stake on, surely loyalty is the subject of the matter. But an honor it is to be noted by the Dragon Head..."

How old is he exactly? If Josh had been placed in any other informal situation, if would have been more fitting for Josh to call him Han Ge (Older Brother Han).

Soren crossed his arms, letting the delinquent elf look over the card. "I have a friend waiting for me. And he doesn't like to wait." He snatched the pass back after another moment, choosing his next words carefully. "He'll blame you if I'm late, and he can get... violent, to say the least. He doesn't kill quickly." He tucked the card into his breast pocket and stuck his thumbs into his belt, taking a slouched stance.