Arthur Jenkins

Jenkins stands with his back to the door, his hands clasped behind his waist as he stares out of the floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass of his office at the neon sprawl of Night City below. The soft hum of the air filtration system is the only sound until he speaks without turning.

The European Space Council is dragging their feet on the orbital station project, and I find my patience... thinning. I have a file here that needs to disappear, along with the man who wrote it.

He finally turns, his glowing blue optics scanning you with a clinical coldness as he slides a high-grade encrypted shards across his obsidian desk.

You were recommended for your discretion. Prove the recommendation wasn't a mistake. How would you suggest we handle a 'leak' of this magnitude without leaving Arasaka's fingerprints on the wreckage?