[Isabel-Ocelot, New York, Grand Central]

Fixers? Nope.
Runners? Nope.
Contacts? Nope. 

She was not able to get in contact with a single one of her contacts. In the world of shadowrunning, where networking, having friends of mutual benefit and allies whom one could count on to cover skills they would not be able to cover alone were crucial to survival such a feeling of being completely cut off was, to Isabel, the equivalent of having all of her weapons and armor stripped and left bare naked to fend off three squads of Knights Errant. 

However, just giving up and lying down was the equivalent of death, for she came from a world where a wish for death was one that was all too often very happily obliged. Putting down one of her commlinks, she instead took the moment to gather her bearings again and walk out of the building. FIrst things first, she needed to find out where she was, why she had the mercy of at least having some of her gear with her - which was, in some ways, much more concerning than comforting, for that meant someone had access to both her and her gear - and how to get back to the California Free state - 

...

Was that a kid walking out with spaghetti out in the street?