From his stint in the labs, Osho found himself pregnant with some rather potent poisons, nine vials of them to be exact. He had them safely tucked into leather clamshell folio, almost like a fancy makeup case, to ensure that they would not break in transit. For this particular formulation, it had no interactions which tempered plastics and so that allowed for an additional layer of protection, since they were shatterproof to a degree. Still, the journey held nearly no risk as he had not even left the heart of the business district. He had a contact in these pseudo-slums, a somewhat prolific agent from before Osho had really taken off and, though he had never employed him, he had met him a number of times. It was... well accepted in the community that the man traded in more than merely talent and, as he did not own any sort of record label, it made a lot of sense.
And what a warm welcome. At first, Gyo's unscheduled arrival took the man wholly off guard, but Gyo's natural charm and general lack of care for whether a situation became awkward won the day. Inviting himself in, he began pouring the two glasses from a small bottle of, frankly, cheap scotch. Regardless, once the man realized with whom he was speaking, he warmed up a little. Possibly he thought this was some kind of raid or 'house call' as you might say. But no.
They chatted a bit before Gyokusho tossed the man the folio, which he opened with a puzzled look.
New poison. I have a new line of work now, as you may have heard, and all the breadcrumbs point to you and... whoever pays you perhaps making better use of this than I.He took a drink of his scotch, finishing it, as his 'friend' left to go retrieve a large sum of ryo to pay for the chemicals. Black market or white, money was money.
Selling 9x vials of Nerve Rot, 360,000 ryo
-Exit
