Skeet shoved the door open with her hip and stepped into one of the largest and loudest multi-level superstores in Metro-Tokyo: MetroPop. Modeled after a period in the 2000's when "kawaii" things had been all the rage, the store boasted insanely bright pastel and neon walls, translucent many-colored walkways, and a constant stream of cheerful Japanese music blasting out of two-story-tall ceiling speakers decorated with fuzzy bug-eyed animals. Her long hair streamed as the in-store air conditioner quickly cleared up the cloud of smog from the outside, sucking it away to belch back out on some lower level of the city. Though she would never admit it to herself, much less mention it to someone else, Skeet actually didn’t mind the décor. She might even have found it cute, if she was inclined to think much about it. But she was there for a drop-off, and she didn’t have time to think about the cute stuffed animals and the frilly clothes. 

Brushing into the stream of shoppers, Skeet followed the flow of traffic. One of the boutiques in the store carried perfume; she could smell jasmine and lilacs wafting from their brightly-lit display. Sometimes she wished she could wear scent. A salesgirl in a pink cheongsam was giving out sample spritzes to passing women. Skeet made a mental note to find such a dress somewhere in Little Shanghai. She could always store it in her Neo™, considering she didn’t have a stable address. 

The drop-off point was on the topmost level, near a section devoted to mechanical toys and electronics. Almost everything there was Ciao Bunny™-themed. Ciao-Bunny™, an adorable rabbit with an orange bow, could be found on all sorts of things, from RC hover toys to—and this surprised even Skeet—guns and ammunition. Most of the top floor was dedicated to her merchandise. It was the only part of the store that attracted men, since it did carry a variety of non-Ciao-Bunny™ devices. 

Skeet followed the winding walkway higher into the store; there were no windows to speak of, so she was forced to guess where she was based on what departments she passed and how far away the bottom floor was. The store spanned five floors, not including the ‘roof’, which housed a tea and cake shop. If everything went well with the drop, she might consider buying something sweet and eating it outside—they were high enough up that the air was clean. 

The drop itself was an out-of-place Happy Ranger™ figure with voice action sitting alone on a shelf full of electronic pets. Skeet strode into the electronics section, scanning for the doll. As she moved, she adjusted her suspender—her Neo™ silently deposited the chip into her hand in the space of a second—and she turned a corner to peruse a display of life-like mechanical kittens and puppies. Lying on top of one of the boxes, like a careless child had discarded it, was a red Happy Ranger™. Skeet crouched to look at the different styles of pets and, pretending to tip a box forward to read about the toy, slid the chip into the Ranger’s Power Belt. After a moment more of reading, she got up and left the aisle. 

Her pager vibrated in her hip pocket as she strolled back down the spiraling ramp. Skeet didn’t check it yet, stopping at the perfume booth near the entrance to buy a bottle of the brand they were sampling. As she left the building, she spritzed herself. 

Then she stepped off the edge of the platform, tapping her Neo™ open and tossing the crystalline glass bottle inside. Dropping to the level below MetroPop, she landed without a stutter and faded into a long, narrow corridor between a clothing store and a mens’ accessory shop. Sliding the pager out of her pocket, she clicked it on and read the number. 

Anders. 

Skeet was never curious about her jobs. She’d worked for Anders before and knew he paid well, and that was enough for her. Planting a foot against the accessory shop’s wall, she shoved up and off, using the other wall to counter-balance as she moved up a level. After some tricky maneuvering, she made it to a tiny four-foot-by-eight-foot stall trapped between MetroPop’s back and the Urban Flayr™ flagship store.

The stall was basically a ghetto telephone/communicator dive—it was cheap, it dealt only in cash, and reaching the damn thing required you be on foot and able to jump four feet in the air. MetPo cruisers just couldn’t fit in the space, and the Metpo didn’t come back there anyway. She bought a satellite phone and, squirreling herself away in a recessed maintenance duct, called back.