[b]Kat[/b]:
"Nah, sugartits, I haven't seen him... But I'm sure if I could get something to jog my memory a bit... Well, that could go a [i]vurry[/i] long way in remembering where my business partner is."
I stifle my urge to punch the fat gang boss, it wouldn't get me anything other than new dents in my armor to repair later as his goons would definitely open fire on me with their cheap Printguns. Gwinlo Yuritani, alleged human trafficker and known co-owner of the [i]Happy Whore Cat house[/i] is sitting in a hoverchair, floating above my head with a dirty champagne flute in one hand and a ditzy, doped up whore in the other. I'm standing on the ground inside his establishment, in the special VIP section. Normally, this place is filled with drug-fuelled orgies, but Yuritani cleared the place out when his goons told him I was coming. Behind me two hulking men stand behind me, their dark pleather jackets bulging with Liquid Knuckle cans (#snowcrashfolife) and more illegal weapons. I'm hardly threatened by them, but they occasionally shift behind me, kicking my autoresponse stims into overdrive, making me more jumpy than usual. Which makes me look like I'm scared, which is weakening my position here, which is tenuous enough. 
"Sure," Springing forwards faster than the guards can react, I leap onto one of the disgusting, most likely semen covered, pleather love seats and use it as a spring board, lifting me next to Yuritani in his chair. Before he can control the chair to move somewhere else, I'm already clutching the sides of it, muscles flexed to keep my perfectly level with his face. Bracing my legs against the side, I lean over to him, whispering into his ear, "Sure I can give you something.. How about a complementary reevaluation of your tax returns for the last five years? You can buy most of the anti-corruption police, but you can't buy me, and you sure as hell can't buy the tax collectors who will be [i]very[/i] displeased with the fact that you're making nearly double the amount than you're admitting to. Does that jog your memory?"
During my threat, Yuritani began to sweat, shifting in his seat awkwardly as he tries to move to be able to face me. When he finally catches sight of my wan, tight-lipped grin, he sighs, and lowers the chair until it's touching the ground. I step off, thankful. My arms were getting a little tired.
Yuritani looks defeated when he manages to look at me again, "Mawali is... Mawali likes to watch cage fights. That's where he is now. Just, don't let him know it was me who told you, okay? Mawali's done some pretty messed up shit, but he's a good guy. He has his Ma to look after.. You can't take him away from his Ma. It would end her."
I'm already walking away, past the hulking thugs with illicit guns, past the matted velvet covered doors, down the metal revolving staircase into the smokey den of red and pink, past the trapped young girls and the hedonists old enough to be their parents, out into the smog filled street below a roaring highway. I pause outside the doorway, sagging briefly against the vinyl frame, feeling a wave of overwhelming futility roll over me. 
"Aint life a fucking bitch?"
I look down, and see a dirty man without legs pushing himself along the street on a splintering plastic cart, obviously stolen from a grocery store. He's wrapped in what looks like trash bags, and his nose has been broken too many times to count. His hair is a filthy ratted mess, and his skin is sickly pale.
"Yeah, life is a fucking bitch."
I reach inside my jacket pocket, root around a second, and find one of my wallets. Without looking, I open it up, grab a prepaid card to an all-you-can-eat buffet, and hand it to him. "They'll take it if you say that Officer Wythburn sent you. I helped one of their kids out once, and they send me these things all the time now. The food isn't the best, but the place is clean."
The man clutches the card like a life-line, and reverently sticks it inside of his mouth, revealing rotted teeth. 
"Thmk hooo rldee"
I nod, and summon my hoverquad. In seconds, it's roaring softly next to me in the street.
"I have to go now. Take care of yourself."
I then enter the quad and plug in a destination for the onboard computer to take me to. "The Spit, D13."
I don't enter my authorization card. The system lets me go wherever I need to.
The quad lifts off with a gentle thrust, and soon enough I'm speeding away towards my next encounter.