You have posted a classified ad in "Solo of Fortune". [Last time you'll do that for a while - 500cr! Jeesh! (By the way, if your character still has some credits, pay up!)] You get a phone call within a week's time requesting your presence at a fancy Italian restaurant in New Tokyo.
Upon arrival, you meet with three dark haired/skinned men. All three are wearing black suits; probably from the same designer. All three are wearing dark shades. You also notice that all three are wearing tiny earbud radios clipped to their shades' earpieces. For security reasons, no names are mentioned, not even yours. The man sitting before you, who does most of the talking, is relatively short; even shorter that he's sitting. Underneath his shades, his complexion is like fine porcelain, almost plastic. The man standing behind him on his right is very tall, with a face like it was chiseled out of stone. As he stands there saying nothing, he grinds his teeth, and you notice that the muscles in his jaw ride over each other like bundles of sinuous wire. The man on his left is large and round with a severely pock-marked complexion. He kind of rocks back and forth, like he's chuckling to himself, almost to the point of blurting out whatever's funny.
The conversation goes something like this:
"Welcome to New Tokyo. Glad you could make it. Hope the travel arrangements were acceptable."
"Thanks. No problem."
He slides two photographs across the table to you; one athletic-looking with dark hair, the other business-like with sandy hair. Both look cut out of the same cloth as you. You scoop them up with acknowledgment.
"These men have given us some problems. You see, they were contracted by, let's say, a 'competitor' to assist with the arrival of a shipment. OUR shipment. As you can guess, dealing with our 'competitor', in this line of business, can create more trouble than it's worth. That's why we would like to hire a contract to deal with their contract."
"Okay."
"The second man was actually on the dock at the arrival of the shipment. We currently believe he knows where our shipment was delivered to. We want it back. We don't think the first man saw anything that day, but we have information that both men work together."
"Got it."
"We want the shipment information from them. And since they messed up a couple of our guys..."
At this point, the large man to his left can't contain himself anymore, and blurts out, "tell her, Face! Tell her!"
The man in front of you swings an arm out with lightning swiftness, and belts the fat man square in the gut with the back of his fist. The fat man takes a stagger back and buckles over, sense of humor leaving, and tears coming.
The speaker recomposes himself and continues, "we want them dead."
"Three grand for the information. Two for their deaths. We want the information; we'll settle for their deaths."
At this point, you accept and are able to negotiate a 1000cr advance for equipment.
"You can start looking for them at the Sulacu; a Merc bar up the street a-ways. I would suggest you don't plug 'em there. Mercs are a funny lot in a group. But you know that."
He slides a small bundle of newer script towards you. You scoop that up and, after counting it out, are on your way.
Welcome to New Tokyo!