A.Journal

Checks

Easy

Alcohol is the key. Ply him with the stuff.

Medium

Formidable

THE WEALTH CLASS WILL TALK TO YOU, OR IT WILL FEEL THE BOOT.

Medium

Medium

Definitely that twitchy young man hooked to the payphone. The name fits.

Easy

The sex payphone suckling. EMTERR through and through. Junior aura.

Challenging

Stressed, liquid, junior? It can only be that hopeless fool hooked to the sex line.

Easy

Radiating with grubby intent.

Medium

If there is any kind of moral conflict churning below the surface, he does not show it.

Trivial

You've got one half -- get the other and you can use it to open the junior negotiator up.

Trivial

Acquire this part, then track down the other -- you can use the train to open the junior negotiator up.

Easy

Reno might thank you for fixing his prized train.

Easy

Might reward you, too.

Medium

At this proximity, his aura of alcohol is near weaponised.

Medium

This might get weird. Avert our eyes.

Challenging

The outline of a woman. More specifically, her left thigh.

Challenging

Is that... a hoof?

Formidable

Trace the expanse.

Formidable

Besieged by failures in work and love, each of his attempts to resolve one immediately defeated by an agony from the other.

Medium

Omnidirectionally fucked. Yearningly erect.

Challenging

In a dim underground office in Novessa, a woman in her mid-thirties lifts the right side of her headset tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

Easy

Challenging

In his mind, magnitude is all.

Medium

You know the feeling.

Medium

EMTERR and Luz, bound for intersection, united in 'secret treaty'.

Challenging

Twitches at the edge of your night-vision.

Medium

Though it may be smashed beneath him, this man was sent here with an assignment.

Easy

His eyes are deep blue.

Medium

Spoken with awe and reverence.

Medium

On speaking her name, his face softens, looking almost youthful.

Challenging

Does he mean Ultra Violeta... you could hardly describe her as 'mountainous'... maybe in talent terms...

Medium

Easy

A glimpse of steel submerged behind his bloated jowls.

Medium

Default to a civilian mask. No need for enhanced theatrics here.

Medium

OUR ENEMY HAS DEFEATED ITSELF.

Easy

It's like kicking a water bed.

Medium

Despite connecting with his stomach, the man clutches his unruly hair.

Trivial

EMTERR, a.k.a. L'Empire sans Territoire, a.k.a. 'The Bank'. Equal parts global development fund and spy service. Linchpin of the Developed World.

Medium

THE BLOODY HAND OF TRANSNATIONAL CAPITAL.

Medium

Your mind sharpens.

Challenging

His hand hangs limp beside him, trembling. The bottom of his palm is bloody from light scraping.

Medium

A crumpled paper airplane of a man.

Medium

If you squint extremely hard you can imagine him heading up a negotiation table.

Easy

This is the phone addict's senior. Soaked in alcohol, duty long since discarded.

Medium

A near-fatal casualty of Party Alley. White collar, judging by his attire.

Easy

The smell of alcohol singes the inside of your nose.

Easy

There's another way: The old fire exit.

Easy

You might have better odds if you go by the south and come up through the rusty gate.

Easy

Your mental map of the area is woefully incomplete. You'll be working at a disadvantage here.

Easy

Colleague? How does he know that?