The lights were always on in Tensoka, and the night life was all day long. Herds of animé mascots danced on the holo-ads projected over the city streets, and on the digital billboards encrusting the soaring steel high-rises. Sick beats jived with jingling ads. Shoe LEDs flashed polyrhythms on the sidewalk.

Shop, eat, play, party—you could do it all in Noyoko's famous Tensoka district, provided you had enough cash to make it rain.

The evening thronged with crowds, locals and tourists alike. High overhead, M-Pop idol ME-MY levitated midair in a costume that put even pro cosplayers to shame. She serenaded the night with a moody ballad. The sound echoed far and wide, and not even the thwap of the wind through the sliver of open window was enough to overcome it.

"Could you close the fuckin' window?" the driver asked. "The wind is distracting me."

"Sorry," Suisei said.

Suisei kept his eyes on the idol down by the skyline as he pressed his finger on the switch. The window next to the aerotaxi's passenger seat slid up with a hiss, sealing away the buffeting wind.

"That ME-MY, though…" the driver said.

"Yeah, she's got a great voice," Suisei said.

"She's got more than just a voice, buddy," the driver said, with a chuckle, "if you know what I mean."

Suisei didn't know whether to be amused or disturbed that the four-armed, lozenge-headed robot built into the aerotaxi's driver's seat had such a personality. Suisei briefly wondered if the robot might have been an uploaded consciousness—maybe serving his corporation instead of doing jail time, or perhaps hoping to work off his debt—but then turned to other matters.

In this business, there were certain questions you just didn't ask.

"You'll both have plenty of time to peruse Tensoka's night-life once you've tied up this latest loose end," Saidaka said.

Suisei's handler glanced at him from the other side of the passenger seats.

Suisei had never seen Saidaka's face. It, like the rest of the man's body—if he even was a man at all—was hidden behind a fully enclosing black helmet and the matching body armor. For all he knew, his handler could have been a robot, or even one of the secret rabbit men, not that Suisei cared one way or the other.

He was used to the bizarre.

"If you don't mind," Suisei said, " I'd rather spend time with my family."

He pressed his hand on his chest, pushing the small metal icon of the Angel he wore around his neck onto his sleek, black body-armor.

After all, temptations were meant to be resisted.

The driver's eyes watched the icon from the rear-view mirror.

"Oh…" he said. "You're a Rasudairo."

Suisei glanced at the two other men. "Like everyone here, I'm a lot of things."

For legal purposes, Suisei Horosha was an employee of the Munine branch of Prescott Pharmaceutical's Health and Wellness subdivision. In actuality, he and everyone else in that subdivision worked under the direct administration of DAISHU's Security Council to fix the loose ends left behind by the upper crust's violent delights.

When shit hit the fan, who did you call?

Prescott Pharmaceutical.

A beep came from Suisei's handler. One of the displays on his gauntlet had just updated.

"There, I can now tell you about the mission. You won't need to keep asking me about it."

"Finally," Suisei said, "the precious details." He flashed a slight smile of anticipation, only to twist into a frown. "Though, did you really have to make me wait for fifteen minutes?"

"Our place isn't to question the orders we are given, Horosha," the handler said, "it's to follow them to the letter."

Suisei sighed.

He hoped this job would prove to be an interesting one. A man could only hunt down so many escaped genetic experiments or ancient automata buried in forgotten temples before things started to feel repetitive.

"What I wouldn't give for another Tiger Incident…" he muttered.

It had been over a year and a half since that memorable occasion, the last job that had really gotten Suisei's blood pumping. It had everything: corruption, intrigue; a monstrous, fire-wielding tiger; and even Monimega memorabilia.

If only he could have taken one of the collectibles from Nawakiyama's penthouse…

Like many other corporate executives, Shounei Nawakiyama, the late head of the Monimega video game company had his particular fetishes. In Mr. Nawakiyama's case, instead of anything reasonable—furries, a foot fetish—Shounei's pleasure was more exotic: tigers.

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With the help of an old blind woman—a spiritualist of the highest caliber—the Monimega CEO had devised a means of temporarily metempsychosing his consciousness into the body of any one of his pet tigers. From there, it was anything goes: sex; debauchery; cannibalism.

Suisei recalled the memory with a chuckle.

Even a high school student studying to pass the state Shaping exam could have told you that pataphysically projecting your consciousness into another creature was a risky prospect. But, having someone else do it for you because you weren't competent enough to pull it off, yourself?

That was suicide.

The smell of the blood was still fresh in Suisei's mind, as was the sight of it, soaked into the carpet and the wood, and streaked across the Soran-era calligraphic tapestries hanging from the walls of the CEO's penthouse bedroom. Within the tiger's body, the man's mind had lost its structural integrity, resulting in a fire-wielding monster that had proceeded to feast on any nearby brains it could find, starting with the old spiritualist and the poor girls Nawakiyama had lured into his den.

Angel rest their souls.

And to think, Mom still worries that a career in medicine wouldn't be satisfying for me.

That wasn't to say the job didn't have its disadvantages. While the work itself was thrilling, it was definitely frustrating to always have DAISHU's leash around his neck.

Suisei really didn't get to let loose quite as often as he'd like.

"Did we have to take an aerotaxi this time?" he asked. "As you well know, I can fly perfectly well on my own."

"We're worried about the visuals," Saidaka said.

"It's not unusual to see people around the rooftops," Suisei said. "It's not like I'm only the person on the national flight registry."

Saidaka glanced out the window at the high-rise below.

"It is when it's Zaina's rooftop."

Suisei's blood ran cold. "Zaina? Zaina Riku?"

"The one and only," Saidaka replied.

There were few names that evoked fear in Suisei; the CEO of DAISHU was one of them.

"Oh, fuck," the driver said, "this is gonna be big, isn't it?"

Saidaka looked out the window, and then glanced at Suisei. "See for yourself." He turned to the driver. "Take us to the top."

The aerostat drifted out from one skyscraper corridor and into another—a shorter, narrower street, and clearly residential. In the gap in between them, Suisei spotted an island of raw darkness. It stuck out from the sea of light like a sore thumb.

Oddly, the power outage only affected the building's topmost floors.

Suisei's thoughts ran wild imagining what kind of insanity was playing out inside those blacked-out flats.

"The power's out?"

"We're not exactly sure," Saidaka said. "Last we heard, Zaina was hosting a private party in his penthouse."

"Why are you sending me?" Suisei asked. "I know the organization thinks highly of me, but I—"

"—As usual, you're too modest. You'd be on Zaina's personal protection squad if the positions weren't already filled. Zaina's guards were the first to respond. They were sent in several hours ago, and we haven't heard a peep from them since."

Shit.

Suisei tightened his grip on the armrest. His fingers dug into the sumptuous gray leather.

Saidaka continued: "So, management decided to send in their favorite cleaner."

Predictable.

"What's with the crowds?" Suisei asked.

Down below, he could clearly make out masses of people standing behind the fencing that law enforcement had set up on the street around the high-rise.

"The media is in an uproar over it. They might not know what's going on inside, but they know that Zaina lives there, and that's enough of a scoop for them."

"Has DAISHU released a statement yet?"

"No, we're still mulling over whether to call it a gas leak or say it was terrorists."

"Biyadi?"

"No, socialists," Saidaka said. "We haven't blamed them in a while."

Suisei raised a dark eyebrow. "There are still socialists in this country?" Suisei asked.

"The people will believe what they need to believe."

"Are there any restrictions on entrance and exit?"

"Yes," Saidaka said. "You have to use the actual doors."

"You're serious?"

"Yes. It's better to be safe than sorry. We've already uploaded Zaina's security key to your chip. As of now, you might as well own the place."

"What good will that do?" Suisei asked. "I thought you said the power was out."

The aerostat made its approach to Zaina's building. The landing pad on the rooftop was a glowing cross, studded with bright lights.

"Zaina controls the entire building," Saidaka said. "The elevators still work, and you'll need Zaina's codes to enter through the rooftop."

"Why not take the elevators from the ground floor? Is it an optics issue?"

"No," Saidaka said. "That's how the first group entered."

"And…?"

"The lifts never came back down."

The plot thickened.

Suisei smirked. "Can I take any mementos?"

"No matter how many times you ask, the answer will always be 'no'."

"What can I say," Suisei said, "I'm a man of faith?"

Groaning loudly, Saidaka leaned back in his seat. "Daikenja, I wish you were joking."

Suisei grinned. "I was."

Saidaka groaned again. "For your sake, that God of yours better save you from these puns."

Suisei clenched his fists. He hadn't felt this stoked in months. He was raring to go.

"I hope I'll be appropriately compensated for this particular job?" he asked.

Saidaka glanced at his smart-gauntlet. "As of about three minutes ago, you're now offensively rich. Congratulations, you've joined the plutocracy—though, knowing you, you'll probably give it to charity, or something."

"I was thinking of starting an architectural conservation society."

"God, you're weird," Saidaka said.

"So's life," Suisei said.

The aerostat landed with a barely perceptible thud. The engines' roars outside died away as the vehicle came to a rest.

Suisei pulled at the door-handle. The door opened with a satisfying hiss, hydraulics raising it up like a folding wing.

He stepped out onto the landing pad.

The winds were strong up here; thankfully, Suisei's dark overcoat kept him warm. Sounds of revelry echoed from the nearby street blocks down below, though they were rivaled by the chatter of the crowds gathered by the security cordon.

"Good luck," Saidaka said. "We'll be waiting for you." Then he pressed a button and the door folded shut.

The hem of his overcoat fluttered as the aerostat rose.

With the cash from this job, Suisei could take Mariko and the kids on the vacation of a lifetime, just like he'd always promised.

Inhaling the cool night air, Suisei quickly made his way over to the penthouse's rooftop entrance, though it looked more like the entrance to an underground bunker. The construction was little more than a concrete protrusion that slid down either side of a lone elevator door. Walking up to the door, Suisei swiped the back of his hand over the chip sensor at the top of the touch screen beside it. The steel doors slid open without a hitch, revealing a cylindrical interior.

He stepped inside. The doors slid shut, barely making a sound.

A sultry voice greeted him through the speakers. "Welcome home, Master Riku."

Was that Evangeline Henrichy's voice?

Suisei pressed the button labeled "Lounge".

"As you wish, Master."

Suisei hardly felt any motion as the elevator drifted down to the designated floor. The doors opened onto the penthouse's foyer.

Suisei froze.

"What the hell…?"

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