3.2

3.2

For their first meeting, Shinoda picked a classical izakaya nestled between two small office buildings deeper in the city. There was no place to park around so Nestra was forced to walk quite a bit through narrow streets dominated by electric bikes and the occasional heavy delivery drone. The Japanese influence in the district bled through the old-school neon signs advertising products from the homeland. The izakaya itself welcomed her with the smell of grilled meat and warm amber colors reflected in the ubiquitous wooden panels. At that time, the small restaurant was almost deserted, which made spotting Shinoda easy enough. He was currently sitting at the counter facing the kitchen, chopsticks picking at sliced cucumber.

Shinoda was a baseline, possibly in his fifties, which he was wearing quite well. Graying hair tempered the harsh lines of a face that spoke of an ascetic lifestyle, but there was something wrong with him, a certain gauntness of the cheeks and paleness evoking deeper trouble. He wore an antiquated trench coat over wide shoulders like some archaic movie detective. The stooped posture conflicted with the steely intensity with which he was reading a document on his datasheet. Truly a study in contrasts.

Nestra came to stand by his side and he turned with the smooth timing of someone who’d seen her come in. She bowed very slightly, which he returned. He gave her a welcoming smile.

“Ah, you must be Palladian-san. Please, sit, sit. Be welcome. Have you eaten yet? I recommend the tonkotsu ramen.”

Shinoda’s voice was deep and warm. Caring. A little at odds with his appearance.

“Yes. I’ll have that and some gizzard.”

Nestra ordered and survived through the obligatory ‘hajimemashite’ introductions, the small talk, and the careful questions about her qualifications. Shinoda was a soft-spoken man who interjected ‘ne’ and other Japanese particles in his English. His accent was quite strong, right to stressing the last syllable in a sentence.

“So you were a MaxSec officer. Support?”

“Close Quarter specialist.”

“Hontou desu ka? Really? Ah, forgive me. I did not mean to question your skills.”

“No harm done. Most people are surprised. How about you? Your file was rather light with details.”

“Hah,” he replied with a smile. “I started in vice and made it to captain, then I joined the juvenile criminality department in district thirty-eight. I am technically retired but Officer Kim asked me to rejoin. As for why I came, I do not wish to bother you with too many details.”

Polite translation: yes I admit I have a history. No, I won’t tell you. Mind your own biz. Fine by Nestra.

“May I ask why you chose to accept this position?” he asked.

“Several MaxSec people died there and I don’t want their sacrifice to be for nothing. If I can help people while I do so, then so much the better.”

Shinoda’s expression was unreadable.

“Yes. Regarding the people we are meant to protect... I assume you have gone over the preparatory file?”

Nestra blinked.

“You... have not,” Shinoda said in a voice that carried wounded disappointment.

“I haven’t received anything yet. I’ll ask Kim. Maybe she forgot?”

“Oh? I see, I see. Then have you done any preparations?”

“I’ve almost completed the basic online course on de-escalation. I’ve also gathered non-lethal armament and some scouting capabilities.”

It was difficult to read Shinoda but Nestra was feeling judged. The fact he was twice her age didn’t help.

“Yes. The de-escalation course is an excellent initiative. Although, your profile is, how to say...”

“Not suitable for the mission?”

“Ah, that is not what I mean. My deep apologies, Palladian-san. You have clearly prepared.”

“To be honest, Kim said my job was to back you up and keep you alive, nothing more.”

Shinoda sustained her gaze and the facade of pleasant courtesy cracked to reveal the calculating mind underneath.

“Ah, Kim-san... I suppose it is best said now. I, right now, only retain around 40% of my lung’s capabilities.”

From Gorge, she ordered a few more gizmos like EMP charges and door breaching explosives she could reasonably explain having, then she was ready.

Protective gear: set. Drone surveillance: delivered by Stib and operational. Non-lethal weapons: holstered and ready. Extra-lethal weapons: hidden around where they would hopefully stay unused. The only things missing were her thermos and snacks which she packed eagerly.

***

Nestra was now ready except for the whole ‘completely unqualified for the job’ part. She left on Monday at 8:30AM with a fresh, renewed hatred for a schedule that messed with her weird sleep cycle. There was a message on her doorstep with new coordinates written.

“There better be Kero nuts this damn time!” she protested.

The drive to Fifteen was short and uneventful. She arrived at the newly rebuilt district precinct and passed through several thorough security checks. Shinoda was waiting for her by the coffee machine next to the huge meeting room where the weekly briefings would take place. Nestra usually enjoyed those because they were relaxing. She could drink her java in peace and pretend to pay attention, except the part where whoever spoke reminded everyone to be mindful of the social realities and then glared daggers at her specifically. The gathered officers were not what she was used to here. MaxSec had been a gathering of lean, fit men with an attitude, at least at first. Here, the group was eclectic as could be. There were a couple of quirkies and quite a few augs, some old men with wrinkled scowls, some fat men with keen eyes, young women with guarded expressions, and young guys with hungry smiles. There were Malays, Pinays, Viets and Anglos, Koreans, Japanese and Chinese and even a lone black guy who looked old enough to have been here since the city’s inception.

Nestra wasn’t sure where the city had found all those people but they were clearly not picked at random, because if there was one thing they all displayed besides covert curiosity, it was distrust. Everyone stuck in pairs and looked around like they were five seconds away from a massive shootout. Paranoia was the name of the game. It was the perfect crowd for this place and Nestra was now even more convinced Kim knew what she was doing.

The briefing was given by a prim lady in a uniform so flawless it looked drawn on. She was pretty much a Kim clone to the point Nestra wondered if they shared the same plastic surgeon. There was a mold to upper middle management and she fit to the last sheen of perfectly combed hair, a sign Threshold was sending their best. There were no pieces of information to be gleaned here that weren't already in her file, so she only listened with one ear. There would be events throughout the weeks, mostly convoys of humanitarian aids and mobile hospitals installations. The rest were reminders to behave and keep their eyes open which no one here really needed. After they were done, her visor pinged to show a message from Aunt Claire.

“Hey there Nes! The celebration is set for Saturday, so make sure you complete your revenge so you can ditch the pigs and come meet the family! ACAB babyyyyyyyy ;P”

Nestra flinched at the various emotes and gifs that followed. Aunt Clecle was just trying to get a rise out of her.

“Like that’s going to happen,” she sent back. “But I’ll be there. It’s my day off.”

“You’d better. If some bureaucrat asshole gives you overtime, I’ll smack them on the way to nab you. And you can quote me on that.”

This was concerning as Aunt Claire had at least two separate citations for smacking bureaucrats on her way to do something. That Nestra knew of. That woman was a menace.

Nestra’s relatively good mood lasted right until Shinoda and her reached the motor pool. All bait pairs were assigned a refurbished Touhei cruiser from ten years ago, which was actually a pretty good surprise considering they were some of the best cars ever designed according to her brother Ulysses. All she knew was that they were good all around as well as extremely reliable, with a grid covering the reinforced glass that could stop heavy machine gun fire. That was where the good news stopped, because leaning on their new rides were a trio of gleams in Gidung uniforms.

Shinoda stopped and tensed at a short distance which the assholes immediately picked up with knowing sneers. Nestra recognized their types immediately from the erratic mana pulsing through their bodies. Lack of discipline or lack of skill, often both, forced some raiders to the bottom of the totem pole. It was not enough to want to hurt and be ready to get hurt to be a good raider. One needed the brains to do so smartly, and the resilience to train every day. The portals didn’t suffer fools gladly and those guys had it painted all over their beings from messy hair to stubble to barely lit iris to frumpy uniforms to languid postures and everything in between. Nestra knew she had to take the initiative with a step forward and a bit of diplomacy.

“What are you corpo goons doing in our garage? Shouldn’t you be out working instead of playing tourist?”

The demeanor of the trio changed immediately. From mocking, they grew aggressive which would have happened no matter what when their demands would not be met. Now they looked like a pack of wolves and Nestra was a perfectly seared slice of medium-rare rib-eye steak with garlic green beans on the side aaaaaaand she was hungry again. Which made her bare her teeth... which incidentally gave the gleams pause. Now they were curious. One of them, a thick-set south east guy, leaned and whispered excitedly in the middle gleam’s ear, a Korean guy with dark hair and a poorly chosen mustache. Meanwhile, Shinoda had also moved forward to be right by her side and he was doing something with an old-school cellphone he was hiding behind his back in one hand. Nestra picked their words easily with her slightly enhanced senses. They’d recognized her.

“Well if it’s not the Palladian reject. You know, you kind of feel like you’re on the verge of something. If you ask nicely, maybe I could give you some mana so you could experience what it feels to be a quirkie instead of a drab? At least for a little while?”

“But then we’d both be quirkies,” Nestra deadpanned.

Oooh they didn’t like that. Gleams like them knew they were shit gleams but a drab wasn’t supposed to tell them they had so little mana they were on the verge of failing. The third guy, a tall anglo with a weaselly look, even took a step forward but the middle one held him back. There were cameras here, and the other officers were already gathering in quiet, judgmental clumps. They had witnesses. Probably what Shinoda was going for.

“Oh, feisty. Real shame you can’t play nice since, you know, we’re supposed to be your overwatch.”

Tall anglo guy smirked in a gotcha moment, as if Nestra could count on those clowns to save anything if the situation hit the fan.

“We just wanted to get acquainted. Much better to know the person as it would... motivate us to perform better and all that.”

So bribes.

“Oh that’s great, we’ll be sure to tell you if your assistance is required...” Nestra kept going.

She knew at this stage that pissing them off no longer served a purpose but she couldn’t resist. Guarding cops in a shit district was as much a punishment detail as it was possible to get for a gleam. Past that was plain expulsion which few corpos were willing to risk on gleams. That meant those gleams already knew they were on someone’s shit list and they either didn’t care, or they were not smart enough to realize it. No matter what, they would be a pain.

“Hope you don’t wait for too long,” mustache gleam said, then he signaled and the trio left under the blank attention of almost all of the cops that were in the meeting room.

The assembled cops waited around like a bunch of gargoyles until they were sure things were settled, then they filed out with quiet nods. They had done their duty. It was time to return to normal paranoia.