The use of a hire-car was significant, as was the triviality of the task for which they were hired at expense.  This was clearly a test.

     "Sir, where might Yagyu San be found?"

     Jenkins could faintly hear the pings and warbles of the slot-machines beyond.

OOC: Assuming this information wasn't outlined as part of the mission brief

"How big's this package we're getting anyway?"  Inuro asks with a lazy grin.  "Bigger than a bento box, smaller than an idol's suitcase?"

"Don't want to get stuck by the rental agency with a kei car if what we're picking up would be a tight fit in an MPV."

Kimihiko figured this was some sort of test, or else, a setup.  He nodded at the end of the sarariman's briefing.  The mission was straightforward and his unique skills would likely be superfluous unless things went bad.  The pachinko machines annoyed him.  He couldn't think of a worse way to waste time and money.  Pachinko was for suckers, the only way to really win was to rig them and the risk wasn't worth the payout.

The sarariman puffed a lazy cloud of smoke, ignoring Jenkins alltogether. Well, the man was not Japanese - so he would't know know who Yagyu was. The man should have learned to keep his mouth shut, too.

"The package is the size of a suitcase. I trust you won't forget it somewhere. I'll be waiting for it right here, at the mechine in the entrance."

Another puff of bluish smoke, filtered through his uneevn yellow teeth.

"Expected opposition?"

When 'on mission', Agent 19 rarely spoke beyond what was absolutely necessary. If she'd been called in, it couldn't be assumed to be a cake-walk.

"No opposition I know of. Go already." He looked at his digital watch (manufactured by the one and only true company). "Nighttime traffic is sparse. Two hours should be enough for the job."

You might have had delusions of grandeur, but for him you were just the newest recruits in his personal army. He probably wouldn't trust you with bringing him coffee right now. Trust was something to be built slowly - that is the way of the zaibatsu. Street samurai had to bend to that rule if they wished to do be accepted by the corporations.

Inuro got to his feet and slid into his knock-off designer suit jacket before straightening his collar while making sure his chromaflair tie was fashionably loose.

Stepping forward he slipped one of the finance cards and the identification card into a pocket before turning around and tossing a finance card to each of the others.  The map he tossed to Jenkins with a grin and a wink.

He turned one last time to the suitcase and grabbed the Hot Spicy noodles with a toss and a catch.  Ready to go Inuro gave the sarariman a perfunctory bow along with another lazy grin.  "Be seeing you soon senpai."

With that he began heading for the front of the parlor.

Agent 19 frowned. Either faulty intelligence, or her skills were not considered up to par. Either way, a bad mission.
She caught the card and tucked it into the small purse she carried with her, then turned to follow Rin out the door.

     These were the the usual conceits.  Nothing Jenkins hadn't encountered before.  All things being equal, Jenkins wouldn't be here, but that's life.  You pay your money and take your choice.  At least 'ugly' had answered his question: he wanted the package delivered to back here and not to some other place.

      Jenkins studied the map as he followed the others out.  He didn't really need a map to know that the airport was South-East of here, but it might contain some useful information, never the less.

OOC: Does the map have any useful information... other than the map itself e.g. what is the smiley face about?  It would seem sensible to take the expressway, perhaps?

Damn, I wanted the spicy one, he thought to himself as he grabbed the pork cup and followed Rin out.  He didn't try to emulate the man's easy manner though he wished he could.  Instead he settled for just pulling the brim of his baseball cap down as he walked through the pachinko parlor and tried not to look too suspicious.  He needn't worry, the pachinko players were obsessed with their games.  He was just an unwanted presence in their world of gambling, smoke, and cheap drinks.

The night air outside was cold and refreshing; the rain had just stopped, leaving pavement and street vendors wet and somewhat clean. It felt good to leave the dina and smoke of the pachinko parlor behind.

Jenkins' map showed no particular useful traits, and the smiley didn't seem to be significant in any other way. His sedan was parked nearby, of course, ready for use.

      Jenkins ushered the others to his black Toyota Taxi-cab.

      "Welcome aboard, folks!"

      He settled into the driving seat and put the map in the glove compartment.  "Where to?

Agent 19 slipped into the seat behind the driver and rolled down the window slightly. "We were given a map."

Inuro slid into the seat next to 19 and rolled his window all the way down before lighting a cigarette with a long drag and exhaling the smoke outside the car.

"Well, unless someone feels a need to do a little shopping on Yoshiko's dime, I'd say we beeline it for the airport."

Kimihiko took the passenger seat.  He could certainly use the 40,000 to augment his bag of tricks, but he decided to wait until he had a better idea of what the team would need.  It didn't make sense to buy more bugs if they instead needed some higher grade icebreakers.  "No, I'm good to leave."

       It was fairly pleasant, skipping along the (fairly) quiet streets with their high-rise appartment-blocks and everyday shops, giving way to the industrial plants that clustered around the Southern expressway heading to the airport.  The control towers stood out on the concrete horizon as Jenkins took the car off the main road and down into the car-parking for Terminal 1.

       "Well, we're here, folks.  Lets go and get that package."

Kimihiko jumped out of the taxi, shouldering his backpack full of gear and looking around while the other members of the team got out.  He tried to identify any suspicious people, other samurai or perhaps zaibatsu security forces looking for someone.

Apparently not self-electing for leadership, Agent 19 asked, "Who is securing the car?"

"Jenkins if he wants to.  It's his wheels."  Inuro replied as he flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window and rolled it up.  "Likewise his choice if he wants to leave it here and grab a rental as was suggested.  No idea what this package is or who might want it, and if Yoshiko will cover repairs for new hires over the cred on our expense cards if things get hot and this thing gets wrecked."

Turning towards 19 he favored her with his most charming and innuendo laced smile.  "However I'd certainly prefer you as close to me as possible."

Once outside Inuro straightened his jacket and fished out his pack of cigarettes again considering it for a moment before putting it back.

"Alright, stay sharp, let's do this, etcetera, etcetera."  He said with a grin as he set out for the entrance to the terminal.

       Jenkins smiles and sticks a thumb in the air.  "I'm going to park a few floors down, then go and get a hirecar and see you back here."

       Back into the car.  Ignition.  Jenkins pulls the car out and drives down and parks by the stairway a few floors down.  Leaving the car there, he proceeds to the terminal to hire a car.

(OOCly, those who haven't yet rolled those 20d6 please do so.)

The airport buildings were polished metal and mirror, smooth and efficient. The thunder of jet engines was omnipresent; even at night there was a river of people flowing in and out of the buildings.

Jenkins had no particular problem parking his car, nor finding a rental service. The pretty clerk looked up at him and asekd for his driver's license in a pleasant profeseional voice. In English. She probably thought him just another gaijin.

The rest of the team converged on the terminal. Kimihiko thought he spied a apir of black suits looking the little group over. Or not.

The passenger entrance had the usual ordnance scanners, but the cargo terminal had a separate, low-security entrance. That part of the building had considerably more rust, with iron mesh fence instead of glass, and almot rusted through steel girders in place of glimmering metal. The cargo office was a low hall with a concrete roof, large doors open to allow cargo crates to be deposited and picked up quickly. There is a single person at work there - an asthmatic overweight clerk puffing on a menthol cigarette, coughing up phlegm and busy filling in some reports.

      "Certainly, miss."

      Jenkins hands over his driving license and makes a start filling in the paperwork.

Inuro took a glance around the cargo terminal to see if anyone else besides the team and the clerk were present before walking up to the man.

"Good evening.  I'm here to pick up a package."  He stated politely as he held up the ID card he'd been given for the clerk's inspection.

Agent 19 stood just behind Inuro, her gaze steely, as if to indicate he was no one to be trifled with.

Kimihiko pretends to study a sign while looking at the men in suits out of the corner of his eye.  He addresses Agent 19 quietly, "Those two suits over there, do they look like they're watching us?"  It occurred to him that he wasn't armed and would need to run for cover if there was trouble.