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[color=lime]
> 6:20pm
> Kabukichō, Sinjuku Ward. 
> Neo-Japan, Tokyo District Metroplex[/color]

Off the main streets of Kabukichō was a small dive bar simply named "Tommy's". A relatively small, single room bar, Tommy's reeked of cheap beer, stale air, and grungy people. Made up of a single bar, several tables, and a few more private booths, Tommy's was unique as it was one of the few places in Kabukichō to have more wooden furniture than metal or plastic, though a fair amount of electronics and metal could be seen jutting out of the woodwork. A haunt often frequented by the less reputable members of society, Tommy's was a hotbed for illicit activity, and a fair number of Ronin, mercs, and yakuza visited often- usually for business, but not uncommonly for pleasure.

Tonight was much like any other night- maybe a bit slower than usual. Most of the crowd tonight appeared to be here for pleasure. A few Ronin sat here and there, exchanging stories about jobs and missions gone right or wrong. There seemed to lack the presence of any suits bearing jobs from clients, and any black marketeers at the bar had decided to take a break. As a result, it was easy for Eric to lose himself in the crowd, only needing to nod to the bartender, Jeremy Thomas, before quietly slipping into the bar's backroom and heading up the stairs.

One rickety wooden door, and two surprisingly complex security systems later, Eric had made it into the safehouse that the team he was part of utilized. The safehouse was for most of the team, their primary residence. While some of the team members may have owned their own apartment, bought with their own money, everyone at the very least had a bed and some amount of supplies and stake in this safehouse. The main living room of this flat had been converted into the team's command center, holopads and data displays slowly scrolling information everywhere- along with several 'hard copies' of information on various companies. There were a few stools, a couch, and a desk chair, along with several tables cluttered with weapon parts, half-used medi-gel canisters, and even an odd chem or two. 

Plopping himself on the couch, Eric only had to wait a moment before the bartender, Mr. T himself entered the room and sat himself on the desk chair. The interaction between the two was slight, there was no point discussing details until the rest of the team arrived.