Mr. Johnson. You know the name. You probably know the faceâsmooth, implacable, professional. Heâs got the nuyen and resources you want, and he knows it. He may not have your skills, but he doesnât care. Thatâs what he has the nuyen forâso he can buy yours. Heâs corporate through and through, and you canât ever forget that, because if you do, thatâs when he sells you out for the good of his corp. But heâll stay professional, of course, right up until the moment he slides the knife smoothly into your back. Heâs useful, that Mr. Johnson, but every time you meet him, every time you have to deal with his double-crosses, his condescending put-downs, his smug superiority, you wish that the day would come when the tables were turned, when he was forced out on the street with nothing but his wits and street skillsâwhatever those might beâto keep him alive.
IS SAVING YOUR OWN LIFE?
Well, good news. Sometimes wishes come true, even in the Sixth World. Mr. Johnson is about to meet the street, and youâve got a ringside seat.