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It was barely a minute into their introduction to one another and Kaz was already fantasizing about silencing Yukako with a hand around her throat. The way her words seemed to run on and on without a break for punctuation or air, long sentences trailing off into incomplete thoughts before doubling back to pick them up again a few words later, little idiosyncrasies that combined into one big fucking problem. While the spacey ditz fumbled this way and that through the conversation Kaz did her best to grit her teeth and bear it. 

[color=Firebrick]"Kaz is fine."[/color]

All those suffixes denoting societal standing were extras that irked her, chaff to be discarded whenever possible. Respect was something communicated through action anyway, not bending over backwards to find the right combination of words. 

It felt like a minor miracle when the assault officer managed to get onto a single topic without jumping to the next and Kaz repaid the favor by actually listening.  An actual directed energy weapon that doesn't just blow up in the user's hands? She was excited to see it in action. Well not actually excited but there was a brief spark of approval somewhere deep in the drug drenched recesses of her mind. 

There was a bit of herself in the way Yukako gushed over her pet project, a resemblance to the person Kaz had been back before she had thrown her future away. It had been easy to get her rambling about whatever robotics project or hypothetical augment she was working on, all those doodles and notes she had scrawled down in notebook after notebook. She still remembered a time when she had taken pride in her technical aptitude.

Looking back on the achievements and accolades she had earned just made Kaz bitter now but she could at least recognize when an innovation had merit. Or at least more merit than whatever the heiress-turned-agent was still blubbering on about. 

The American opened her mouth to ask a question but was cut off by the voice of the Director. An operation then, what Kaz had been simultaneously waiting for and dreading. She headed off towards the briefing room at the pace of a lumbering bear: slow in the moment perhaps but capable of both surprising speed and shocking violence. 
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Dai was at the door to the briefing room a few seconds before Kaz managed to make it, deft fingers punching in her name, rank and identification number so that she could be let in The NSF's HQ had all sorts of redudant security measures, proccesses that must have cost millions upon millions of yen in total. The fact that even with all the cloak and dagger sci-fi secrecy Japan's secret police still managed to hire a Yakuza assassin upset Dàiyù more than it should have. This was what her taxes paid for?

The whole organization was porous, hiring Americans mercenaries while Jinrai spies made a mockery of it security protocols. Its agents lacked loyalty one way or another (herself included) and would soon find itself in crisis if something wasn't done. But that wasn't her problem. Dai was there to indulge her addiction to adrenaline while making sure that her organization stayed out of the crosshairs. While the Yakuza had a history of allying with or hiding behind far-right groups it had yet to connect itself with the Jinrai in any meaningful way which meant that there wasn't even really a conflict of interest for NeoTokyo's deadliest entrapenuer.

Dai kept her critical musings to herself as she entered the briefing room, still playing the part of a patriot. [color=Mediumseagreen]"Good morning Director."[/color] She gave the required greeting in perfect Japanese, the New England taint present in her English not crossing the language barrier. Other ops personnel were streaming in and none of them were worth engaging with at the moment. If someone addressed her then she'd reply but until then she was content to wait for information. 

[@BCTheEntity] [@Conscripts]