ShadowRun Message Game (BDB) Introduction/Situation file for Noriko Ariushi aka "Zero"; cross-referenced New Orleans "Zero." Noriko "Zero" Ariushi glided down into the stool, taking the contoured, magenta temperfoam with a neat slew. Gloved hands hung a hair-width from the minute puddles on the bar, opaqued against the shifting hues inside The Metro. He rode the foot rails, pivoting smartly, perfectly. "Dirk. Sumasen," he replied, an imperceptible nod shifting his square frame ever so slightly. Cuplinks twinkled. "You are in time. As always." "Of course," the elf replied. "As you are. I believe this is yours." The elf opened a pale, slender hand. A cylinder, the size of a cigarette, laid on his cupped palm, its smooth, dull chrome finish was seamless, diffused lightning from the strobe projection above skirting its translucent reflection across its curved surface. Zero smiled, the perfect white teeth a neat ivory cut that shot a chic slash below the cold, pale-blue diamonds of his eurasian eyes. "Excellent. As is yours." He reached delicately into his buttoned jacket and withdrew a flat, squarish softcase, the leatherette contours as sharp as the creases of his Ginza suit. He handed it to the elf and took the cylinder, his casual efficiency in time to the percussions running the Metro. The elf opened the case on his lap. Flush in rigid, charcoal-gray foam laid four parallel credit sticks. The elf eyed their flawless, black mirrored surfaces, a slender finger brushing the gold trim that ran from top to bottom. They were clean accounts, four keys to access four pigeonholes in a Swiss account cluster somewhere, discretely maintained by the Lancaster Corporation just outside of official networks for covert payrolls such as the elf's. His turn to smile. He snapped the case close abruptly. Regrouping composure. "Everything is in order." "Of course," the elf acknowledged matter-of-factly. "Saraya was an easy one, I must admit. Ares is to be commended for their security precautions. But really," --the elf grinned-- "to depend on these barbaric city samurai who know nothing of honor. The success of the infiltration was but inevitable." "So." Zero smiled thinly. "Taylor arrives in Seattle in five days. Kazumi security will be another matter entirely." "To err?" The elf asked. He shook his head, grinning. "Unspeakable." "Make sure," Zero replied curtly. "We do not speak of UCAS heimin now, Tanto. Kazumi is kuge, their men trained in the ways of Ninja. You will not find them so easily fooled. Indeed, they may fool you." "You do not trust me, Ariushi-san?" The elf asked sternly. "I trust no one until the task is complete." "I have brought you the first key," the elf replied angrily, his malevolence lost in the Metro's assault of lights and steady strings of long, hard guitar licks. "One more, Noriko, and your 'UCAS heimin' corporation can obtain the prototype cultures they seek for!" "And that is the reason why trust is irrelevant, Tanto," Zero replied coldly. "Emotion seizes you at the most trivial of times. An invitation to failure." He pivoted slightly on his stool and faced the elf. The elf stared at him, jaws clenching and unclenching. But Zero had the angle now, years of training shifting his posture into an Octagonal Fighting Stance that offered no offensive opportunity. The elf knew this, albeit no consolation; at least one concealed weapon was already aimed at him. That he knew as well. He turned away. "Taylor in five days. Kazumi will get a good fight." "Of course." Zero stood up, cuff-links hitting a pinch of cyan light, his well-tailored frame a dark emptiness in the kaleidoscopic display of pulsating light. The elf followed suit. Zero smiled sardonically. "A hard bourbon will do you well. You look pale." The elf smiled emptily and bowed slightly. He said, "The key provides a reference to a single identity. A Melissa Saraya." "That is all?" "Yes." "I will verify. In the meantime, where?" "New Orleans, UCAS." Zero smiled. "We journey to opposite sides of the continent, then." He bowed smartly. "Arigato." "You are welcome." "Good bye." ***** An hour at 40,000 feet on SST Lane 35 out of LAX. Noriko landed twenty-seven past midnight, renting an Elite with his own credit. Being official business, Lancaster had opened Level 2 credit lines for him out of a local Wells Fargo branch that was only too happy to welcome the exhorbinant business. But it would be much more dangerous that way, Noriko thought. Ares would be feeling out the networks now, running through transaction records in the hope of finding the telltale pattern of intensive corporate activity as reflected in the heavy, conspicious flow of resources to and from the suspected area. The key Dirk had "obtained" from Ares R&D personnel Bernadette Saraya pointed to New Orleans. Ares Macrotechnology Incorporated will be watching here. A second-floor room registered at the Hyatt Regency, and Noriko's base of operation was complete. He was starving, too, he thought, as he closed the door behind him, keying the security pad for a 10-hour full-level lock. His gloved index finger hung over the ENTER overlay for a second before he thumbed for ABORT, grabbed his coat, and went out the door. After hours in New Orleans, he thought as he started the Toyota. Let us see what New Orleans has to offer for Zero. Press !