[b][i]—— Earth-F67X: North Capital City, Chinatown — Little Fuzhou — Ramen Broadcast Station aka Ramen Hososoba Kyokua[/i][/b]

[i]“Ungrateful dog!”[/i] Ixchel screeches.

More accurately, someone screeches through her. Spittle dashes off her bottom teeth, perfuming the air with a tincture like spoiled samba and spotting the lens of Zenji’s vidcipher module; drops of the blood she had recently sipped. Rasps of hyperventilation disfigure the flesh of her throat, causing it to cling around her larynx like hyperstatic foil around a microwave burrito; every artery and lump of cartilage grotesquely prominent.

[i]“Gave that homeless fuckboi Mateo his pick of my products, and he slit my throat!”[/i] the voice hisses.

☴ [i]Calm yourself, Fesyen. Work with us, let us mete out your justice[/i], ☴ Ixchel conveys to her body’s guest, the former Chinatown fixer, over their — she hopes briefly, but buries that emotion deep so as not to disrupt her gestalt — shared electro-empathic medium, ☴ [i]We don’t have long. Who is Mateo, where can we find him?[/i] ☴

Not privy to the mechanisms of Ixchel’s mind, Zenji' nods and says, [i]“Mateo, right. Any more deets on this guy?”[/i]

A few glances from adjacent stools at the streetside ramen booth at the commotion, but the patrons see the yakuza tats and elect to mind their own business. Best to sip their noodles in peace.

Breathing calms, and Ixchel blinks rapidly, like a cicada. 

[i]“He’s homeless. A slatternly street slut! Dragged a rotten cyber-psycho corpse into my place of business, his unwashed spic ass smelling like country bumpkin bukkake. I could [b]see[/b] the cum stains on him! He demanded I accept the corpse’s mods in lieu of cash, so I sent him to my spa [b]gratis[/b], got him all cleaned up, and let him take his pick of clothes right off my racks!”[/i]

[i]“Uh, yeah. Very sweet to the boy, you were. A true father figure. Where can we find him?”[/i] Zenji asks.

Vengeance makes for a good incentive, and the voice calms, sweetens even, hissing again, but this time more serpentine than venomous, [i]“He’s come ple~eding for grab-bags before, near this area. Chinatown, Kips Bay, were the poors and self-loathing fags mingle. O~obviously I said maybe, but no fre~ebies. I heard he shares a van with a punk who goes by Kostas.”[/i]

[i]“We have our perp,”[/i] Ixchel says, terminating the séance.