New Canton wasn't a place to carry an umbrella if you didn't want it stolen or swept away in a crowd. Serge instead walked amongst his colleagues with a clear plastic poncho that some street kids were selling for candy bars. The many oppressive droning sounds of the city were at least somewhat cancelled by that patter of water on plastic around his ears. Then again, he relied more on his eyes to navigate and watch his back.

The team today gave Serge mixed feelings. He raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder to check that they weren't lagging in the crowd.

Andi was skilled, but you could not rely on her to disregard what needed disregarding. She had a knack for expanding the scope of their missions together. Especially if something whiffs of Sinsek.

Siofra was an enemy that you would want to keep closer than your friends. Serge preferred to keep her close no matter their disposition to one another. As long as that little secret between eight and eighteen years old she kept was safe, she could focus. If half the shit she let Serge know about that story was true, he had other reasons to keep that detail out of the firing line.

And then there was Jack. When Serge first arrived in New Canton, he thought the local operators telling him he 'didn't know Jack' was a borrowed western slight against his inexperience in the city. They said it every time he underestimated their chances of something going arse-over-head on the job. He knows Jack now. Everyone does. She is as likely to reverse gravity on the tits of the mission as she is to blast enough heads open to make it all better. It was neither Serge's area of expertise nor his preferred method of doing things.

Freelance operators weren't picked for missions where their skills wouldn't be needed. That told Serge this mission was going to me rough. Though, he needed the job.

Serge wasted no time in pushing into the restaurant so his senses could be overwhelmed by something different. Even if the food could increase your risk of cancer around these parts, spices still passed hands occasionally. It was a much better smell than outside.

The contact caught Serge's eye in short order. He frowned at the others and nodded in the man's direction before peeling off the water-beaded poncho. His grey suit underneath was spotless as always as he approached.

When the contact spoke, Serge looked left and right and pulled a sturgeon face. "They must put something charming in the [i]kway teow[/i] if it's that good," Serge said, gesturing to the man's many discarded bowls. "Mister Wu, I presume?" He extended a hand. "Serge."

Once introductions were cleared up, Serge took a seat, weaved his fingers together and leant forward on his elbows. "How can we help you today?"