[Zane]

Zane was sipping from her drink, tapping her feet as she watched windows stream across her eyes. Recently, a fixer collogue of her had informed her of a recent mishap a corp had gotten itself into. It appears FICSIT had lost a toy of theirs. A prototype of some sort. Naturally, she assumed it had Hojo written all over it. At least with the initial information. Hojo loves killing a competitor. FICSIT looked like they fit that market. Some overlap between the company would indicate that Hojo would want to sabotage Digging into it though, Hojo has had a different approach with FICSIT. At least for now. Hojo has their methods and she didn't see their finger prints on it.  Unless they are going some indirect path, this wasn't Hojo.

Some villain shenanigans seemed to be afoot, hence why she was contacted. She knew both villains and the corpo world well enough on who is doing what. It was curious though. Usually things getting lost aren't exactly a fixers jobs. Most corpos have reclaim people that will get lost prototypes.

Unless. Unless. It's something they don't want to get out. Something shady probably. I'll prod a little. Zane sighed a bit, taking a sip from her drink before scanning more of the data shard she had put together before ripping it out. This guy better be paying well. The forward wasn't cheap but the end fee isn't going to be small either. This shit is serious. She hates poking her nose with anything related to Hojo. That's a company no one wants as a enemy.

"hoshi, can you get me some kimchi." Zane would ask, watching her bartender walk into the kitchen. Luckily, it was a empty enough as baseball hadn't started yet.

[Darius Ficsit]

His father had been pretty clear—sit tight and wait for the actual investigators (both private and governmental) to do their jobs. The optics of Tokyo's lead man stumbling around in the dark looking for the missing prototype would send up signal flares. Namely that whatever was taken MUST be top of the line, potentially illegal, or both, and that even if none of the above was true, people would assume. Darius disagreed.

Sitting idle knowing that some sort of Villain or villainous group could be so brazen as to locate and break into the remote storage for the prototype was, in his opinion, the 'bad optics' here. The police and above board PIs they'd invested in to crack the case would go about it entirely clean. Darius decided that being a little morally flexible and forking over some cash to a seedy info broker couldn't hurt. Well. It could, he just chose to think it wouldn't backfire. 

He'd dressed casual-formal, with a simple black button up and white khakis, a yellow windbreaker atop it. He wasn't famous enough to catch any eyes unless they'd bought from him personally AND recently, so diving headfirst into a questionable part of town shouldn't be an issue. 

The place was pretty deserted, in the twilight zone of sports events and people who'd already gotten smashed. Darius walked in, briskly taking a seat at the counter with a grunt. "Evening."

[Zane]

"Here you go, Z." Hoshi would mutter, placing a bowl of kimchi in front of Zane before returning to her usual bar spot. The usual crowd started settling in as Zane waited for her client to arrive. She had a general idea what he looked like. She had prodded in the FICSIT database to get a general idea. She had to know what she was working with and who she was working for. There are certain type of clients she does not take. Organized crime, villains, and anything in between were usually no goes. Scanning the patroons as they came in, her eye pinged as Darius sat down next to her. They had agreed on a code phrase so they knew who was who. Obviously, Zane knew who Darrius was but he doesn't need to know that.

Zane smiled, before sliding a menu to Darrius. "Welcome to the Stingray. Could I trouble you for some drinks or food?" His order was important. Zane mentioned in her message to him to pick the Pork Belly set paired a Fringe Water. It would be the go ahead for them to discuss her info. She wasn't worried about being overheard. That's exactly why her bar works. No one at the Stingray cares why someone is at the Stingray.