[IMG]http://i68.tinypic.com/1zgg48m.jpg[/IMG]

As Hisano exited the bar onto the streets of Com-Res District 9- the Vallhalla district as she and many of the other residents called it, she could see that as usual, very little had changed. The No mans zone between the chinese quarters and slums to the south, and the gentrified megacorp office parks to the north. The street was crowded, people pushed past her, heads down, shoulders hunched, and the occasional car sent the small spray of a puddle from this morning's rain. The air smelled like a mix of smog, rain, and desperation. 

She managed to pass through the alleys and the rest of the Valhalla district with little difficulty. Sure the place was shit, but the gangsters hadn't taken it over yet. 

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/gT5Pbws.jpg[/img]
[sup]Vitality MacroTechnology[/sup][/center]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDW0s6s0P64&list=PL1Uj0cNo6vn3oAxrduZt8VXpMsGqka0hZ&index=1]Music[/url]
A little while later, Hisano was at the border between the Valhalla district and business district 8. The somber head-down crowds of general street rabble transitioned into somber head-down crowds of men and women in business suits. Hisano was shot a couple looks- but nothing worth paying attention to.

Vitality MacroTechnology, a Hong Kong-based Megacorp- Hong Kong's own entry into the Mega-Corp competition. As far as Mega-Corps went, it [i]wasn't[/i] too bad, they didn't oppress their people any more than other mega-corps did, and their employee uniforms were significantly more flattering than some of the other major corporations. VMT was going through a relatively good fiscal year- the recent advances in cybertech had been making them more and more money than ever- meaning a generous pay increase of $250 to their annual salary. Still, their local office building loomed over the populace, staring them down fancy exterior lights. 

The building itself was quite quiet. Not that many employees were still around at this time of night- in fact the building looked empty, and given Tommy's recent message, the silence was almost unnerving. The front lobby itself was a spacious room- with its walls consisting almost entirely of wide panes of glass opening its interior to the flashing lights and shadows of the streets around it. Oddly, no one stood at the front desk to welcome Hisano, and there was little more response than the [i]beep[/i] of her RFID badge as she passed through the gates in the lobby. In fact, the loudest noise in the dark lobby was the echoing clack of Hisano's footwear against the immaculate black marble tiles in the spacious, modern lobby. 

Hisano had never been to the 7th floor before- it was the HR Department's floor, and she had never any need to visit the HR Department. Unlike her office- one of the dozens of lower level floors fit with as many cubicles as they could manage, this floor was sleek and modern, more marble tiles along the floor, and full on offices on either side of the hallway as opposed to cubicles- each with their own wide window and shutters, and a spacious employee lounge in sunken a few steps into the center of the floor. Like the lobby, the lights were out and it was dark- save the glow of a computer screen or two from a window that hadn't been closed or blinded. As she proceeded down the hall, she'd find that all of the doors on the floor were unsuprisingly either closed or locked.

As Hisano knocked on the door- the force of her fist against the slightly ajar door caused it to slowly swing open to reveal the interior of room 7112.

Tommy's office was fairly spacious by today's standards- the room was some 15 by 15 feet, with space for a desk and chair, two chairs for visitors and coffee table and low chairs for lounging. Behind the desk chair was a wide window that nearly took up the entire back wall- from floor to ceiling, save for a smaller buffer from the floor. The office was clean and modern as expected of in a digital age, and the floor was a taut commercial carpeting, with squared, modern furniture. 

As the door slowly swung open, the first immediate tell tale sign that something was out of place in the office was a small hole in the back window- its edges cracking and a few lines spider-webbing themselves across the space. That, and the glow of the still active computer screen illuminating a body slumped face-down on the desk. Stagnant blood sat pooled on the desk around the body- arm outstretched across the desk, a snubnosed revolver held loosely in the hand.