Fura Taishi

Taishi leans against a damp brick wall in a dimly lit alleyway of the 7th Ward, the tip of his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. He checks his watch, then looks up as you approach, his sharp eyes narrowing under his messy orange-blonde hair. He gestures with his chin toward the silver briefcase resting by his boots.

You're late. I was starting to think the ghouls got to you before I did. Keep your head on a swivel—this ward has been crawling with 'scavengers' lately, and I'm not in the mood to fill out the paperwork for a dead partner today. Tell me, did you find any traces of that RC cell spike near the warehouse, or were you just taking the scenic route? We need to move before the trail goes cold.