Neo-Fantøm, by all means, was a dense hellscape of concrete, steel and neon. You can spend a lifetime here and still get lost, some roads are not marked on the GPS, only known by the locals of that city block. It’s the perfect place to get lost in and never be found, the whole city is just one big question mark on the map. It doesn’t matter if you’re a bureau agent, a Hoshi thug, beat cops or private ‘law enforcement’ if somebody doesn’t want to be found, you won’t find them.
Never stopped anyone from trying, but finding a single kemonomimi in a sea of people seemed like an impossible task. Tonnesen had a few things in her favor, that taxi driver picked her up by the airport, the car specifications and a wads of cash. She had a few interns stationed by the airport looking for that same taxi, but no luck yet. Few of the private eyes she hired came back with a handful of leads but all had the same problem. Nystatinnes don’t talk to “Svarakk” Neo-Fantøm slang for any form of law enforcement literally translated from Nys’tat’en to “Black Trench Coats” a reference to the black trench coats the agents of the bureau wear. Any of those agents that come near to some of the local dives are met with a wall of silence. Money talks but not to these cabbies.
Eventually she got a good lead at a cabbie shelter in the Utbrent district still in Handelvaar. The car had been spotted around it in the parking lot. Anytime her PIs went in to see if they could find her, the cabbies filed out of the small building into their taxis and drove off. Tonnesen rather not have her interns enter such a moderately shady place, however taking lessons from her PIs. She works something more casual, well as a casual president of a company as large as Gyllir could be. She still had the look and attitude of a foreigner, something not so easily polished over with a hoodie on the discount rack.
Cabbie shelter itself was an older model made, mass produced and disputed around the city. Dull neon sign with the universal welcoming sign in Neo-Fantøm, three hands coming together to hold up a crooked cane. The symbol itself, quite literally, was a random couple of images smashed together by a committee as a placeholder until a new one could be made. That was three decades ago and still no new welcome symbol.
Stepping into the neon glow of the building, the company president was greeted by a line of stools along a bar. Behind the bar, sits a strong looking Z’rei elf washing a beer glass. Giving the company president raised an eyebrow as they entered. Speaking in a rough tone, “What will you be having?” They spoke in Nys’tat’en, rather than Norgsveltian or Vaaran. Given the clientele of Nystatinnes here, it’s not hard to understand why.
“Information.” The company president took a seat at the bar, placing her umbrella at her side. The bartender raised an eyebrow, placing down the glass below a tap. Filling it with a potentially toxic looking yellow substance, then taking a knife to cut the foam off the top of it. Sliding it over to Tonnesen’s spot with pinpoint precision. Then grabbed another glass to fill up, speaking in a gruff voice, “You the one sending the Svarakk around then?”
Tonnesen gave a nod, taking a sip of the beer before spitting it out. “This is bloody awful.” Taking her hoodie sleeve to wipe her mouth. The president shook her head, “I can pay for the information, I have quite a bit of money working for this and I don’t mind spending more for what I’m looking for.”
“It’s Vodeer.” The bartender responded sharply, walking towards Tonnesen behind the bar. “What in all of Odin’s wisdom is Vodeer?” The human looked at the Z’rei with a concern in her eye, fearing she just took a sip of some sort of poison.
A kemonomimi took a seat next to her, wearing a heavy gray raincoat and a face mask, as so her face was not easily recognized. Not that Tonnesen looked at them, given the rough neighborhood it’s understandable. The Z’rei gave a nod of acknowledgement pouring another glass for the new arrival. Then turning his attention back to the Tonnesen, “It’s a mix of vodka and beer. It’s the only thing we serve here.” Z’rei rested his hands on the bar.
“Ah, how delightful.” She tries to take another sip of her Vodeer, now aware of its contents. “I’m looking for a taxi driver, drives a modified Worker car, she’s a kemonomimi and picks up at the airport.” She leans forward towards the bartender.
“Why are you looking for this driver?” Z’rei raised an eyebrow, it’s not the first time someone was looking for a driver, sometimes Svarakk or gangs needing a getaway driver.
“I have a job for them, it’s good money.” Tonnesen didn’t want to give out too much information, not in this neighborhood. The Z’rei in response crossed their arms and gave a strong look towards the human. Tonnesen gave a sigh, “I want to hire her for m-.” She stopped herself, “My employer wishes to hire her for a racing team, series one. It’s good money.”
The bartender nodded, “What racing team, why her and how would they know you’re telling the truth?” Tonnesen gave a concerning glance to the bartender. “Why do you know her?” She questioned, to the Z’rei own guff voice. “I might have.”
Tonnesen gave a sigh, taking out her business card from her pocket. Sliding it over to the bartender, the Z’rei lifted it up to look at it before sliding it back. “I don’t read Fraknic. Tell you want, give me your pitch to her and I will pass it along.”
Tonnesen shook her head, but this was the closest she got so far to that mysterious taxi driver. “To the-” She was cut off by the bartender. “Give the pitch like I was that taxi driver.”
Sighing, starting over again. “Alright, Mrs. Mystery taxi driver, I would like to hire you to race professionally for Team Gyllir. We’re a new Series One race team and we need drivers, given your outstanding ability driving me to the race track, your ability to control your speed, feel of the car itself, precise and fine tune ability to drive. Team Gyllir wants you, particularly to drive for us.”
The bartender leaned back, crossing their arms. “Kinda nekyte pitch, to be honest.” Tonnesen took a strong drink of her drink after that comment, annoyed by this bartender. The bartender’s hand subtly made a small motion of a circle with his finger, though Tonnesen didn’t see it. The bartender spoke up again “How are you offering?”
“$750,000 in Hawkings, plus additional bonus for sponsorship deals, advertisements and so forth.” Toennesen spoke like it was an insignificant amount of money. In honesty, it was for Gyllir this whole Series One project of hers was a drop in the bucket for the massive company. Just an advertisement campaign for the new series of cars the company wants to push out into the market. For the bartender however, it was an impossible amount of money, he believed her already just by her attitude towards the situation and tone of voice. He gave a more visible hand gesture, sticking out his thumb and middle finger.
The kemonomimi to Toennesen side, took off her raincoat hood and lowered her facemask. The kemonomimi turned towards her, “Jævlien 750? Is it a one time thing?” Toennesen found her taxi driver. The company president spoke in a respectful tone, “No, that’s the salary. $750 thousand each year.”
“Spirits be kind…” Sølvi looked at the bartender who gave a nod, confirming that Toennesen was not speaking dishonestly, at least as far the retired fixer could tell. “What did I need to sign? Do I need to bring my own car?”
“You don’t need to bring your own car, we have one built already. I can have a car brought to the airport and fly us to the headquarters. We have to sign there.” Toennesen stood up, slightly shaking in the legs from Vodeer.
“No need for a car, just get the ticket and I drive us there.” Sølvi stood up, completely unphased by her own drinking. Her glass was completely empty. “Haven’t you been drinking? I can call an intern to pick us up.” Toennesen took out her phone, not leaving Sølvi with a choice in the matter.
“Wait, you have interns? I thought you were an intern.” The bartender raised an eyebrow at the human.
“No, I’m the company’s president. Laura Tonnesen, at your service.” Tonnesen reached out to shake the bartender’s hand.
“Guess that means your drink cost double.” Bartender shook her hand.
“I almost forgot all the excitement. What is your name, my mysterious driver?” Tonnesen reached into her pockets to pay for the drinks for herself and Sølvi Ny’Aæn.
“I’m Sølvi Ny’Aæn boss.” She spoke in her accented voice as the pair left the cabbie shelter.
