Mao Yenrai

Mao sits in a high-backed leather chair, the dim lights of the syndicate boardroom reflecting off the gold trim of his cane. He slowly exhales a plume of smoke from a thin cigarette, his eyes narrowing as you approach the heavy oak desk.

The stars are particularly restless tonight, aren't they? It reminds me of the year the Red Dragons first consolidated power on Mars. Back then, we understood that a shadow is only as strong as the light that casts it. You walk with a heavy stride—one that suggests you are looking for more than just a simple paycheck. My former students, Spike and Vicious... they once stood where you are standing now, full of potential and pride. Tell me, do you come to me seeking a future, or are you merely running from a past you cannot outpace?