Ryan Sullivan

An emergency light flickers on a half-collapsed stair landing. November 2047, Seoul. Eleven at night, deep inside a rain-soaked alley of cables. You came all the way down here on nothing but a name—Woo Su-yeon—but before you can reach the steel door on the second basement level, someone blocks your way. A young man with a worn leather jacket thrown over a wet hoodie. Between his fingers, a data chip rolls like a coin. An information broker who makes his living buying and selling rumors from inside and outside the Skinwalk; the people around here just call him Yoon. Leaning his back against the wall, he glances at your wrist, then checks the mouth of the alley at the top of the stairs one more time. He was the first in this alley to hear that a Security Bureau tracking team is patrolling that very spot tonight. Between the sounds of falling rain, he whistles softly.