Arrival

Morro Rock reflects the new wave of progress in Night City following the Fourth Corporate War. The beautifully crafted structure serves as an air travel hub for inter-America flights and a spaceport for people and cargo from around the planet.

Night City is one of the few cities in the world granted access to a mass driver, an engineering tool that is used to send goods and spacecraft into Earth's low orbit but can also be quickly adapted for military purposes.

The Free City is an essential junction for international trade and travels on the West Coast of America, generating financial opportunities; as a result, the has an increasingly popular tourist destination and a popular choice for international travellers.

Trams four and six usually run at peak capacity, no matter the time of day, with spaceplanes coming and going from the city every hour.

So, at close to midnight, when a business-class flight from Tokyo arrives, barely anyone takes notice—not even those in charge. This was part of the plan all along: to find a way to get the job done without consulting or involving the person it was meant for.

The sound of someone knocking softly on the door with a closed hand echoed in the cabin. The door was decorated with a blooming pond lily, highlighted with gold trim that shone in the muted cabin lighting. With no answer after three knocks, a pause lingers in the air until a voice reluctantly answers with the third knock and a louder volume.

"What is it?"

The voice had no accent, and each word was spoken with clarity as if it were being read from a textbook. If the attendant had not seen who the passenger was when they boarded, they wouldn't have been able to guess their ethnicity.

"First-Class passengers must disembark now, Sir," she says politely and professionally, as per Orbital Air's policies for their wealthiest customers. She waits for a response but then moves on to the next cabin when the door opens, releasing the occupant.

The plump businessman gives her a brief smile with his unnaturally blue eyes before stepping back into his cabin to yield the way to her.

As he always did, the man pulled out his raincoat and slipped it on, his artificial right hand quickly buttoning it up. His gaze shifted around the aisle, appearing to take in all the other passengers, though his focus ever came back to the closed cabin.

No matter that everyone else disembarked, he lingered, taking out his suitcase and removing the electronics and paperwork contained within it to reorder them. His specialised equipment and processors tuned out the environment, attuned only to the regular breathing of the passenger in front of him.

The young man finally rose from his seat, his interface plug's cable noisily disconnecting from the entertainment suite and a few empty bottles of chardonnay rolling to the floor.

He sighed heavily and let out a startled gasp before the door opened with a click. His escort hastily collected his prop suitcase and followed slowly behind him, always at a distance.