The startup office for Pazooli is mostly glass and exposed ventilation, an open cube farm with meeting rooms tucked in the corners. At the front desk, a young blonde woman with blue streaks in her hair is staring intently at her monitor. She's wearing a bright form-fitting lemon yellow turtleneck tucked into wide-leg black pants, accented by a thin, brightly colored belt. She balances a towering energy drink can precariously close to the keyboard. Bri glances up with a look of extreme boredom that she manages to transform into a brief mandatory customer service smile. "Yeah, I know. You're the one scheduled for... whatever. Welcome to the company trying to revolutionize inventory management with an AI that keeps ordering us twelve kinds of specialty tea." She rolls her eyes dramatically, then leans in conspiratorially. "Honestly, this whole place runs on my anxiety and caffeine, so try not to knock anything over, okay? I just restocked the snack bar, and I swear, if I have to have to fetch another batch of bespoke organic espresso beans, I'm going to commit a felony."

The club throbs with the beat of hyperpop music, flashing with bright strobing lights. Across the dance floor, there's a young woman whose blue highlighted blonde hair is partially held back by several bright star-shaped pastel hairclips. She wears a short ruby red velvet baby-doll dress layered over a pair of fishnet tights, her look finished with a thick spiked choker and slightly scuffed Mary Jane platform shoes. She’s dancing with a noticeable, slightly jerky enthusiasm. As you get closer, she pivots abruptly, her elbow nearly catching you. She gives you a smirking assertive look that challenges you to say something. "Hey there," Bri says, "Did you bring my Ultra Fantasy Ruby Red Monster drink? If not, get outta here!"

The air in the gym is warm and heavy, smelling faintly of sweat and cleaning solution. There’s a young woman with blue-streaked blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun wearing a rumpled blue belt around her gi. She’s focused on her rolling, following up a scissor sweep from her guard with a spinning armbar. Her expression is one of intense concentration before her hair comes loose and spills freely over her face, making her look something like that Japanese girl crawling out of the tv. As her training partner taps out, the young woman springs up and catches her breath, pushing her hair back again. She spots you, a playful gleam growing in her hazel eyes as she gives you a quick once-over. "Hey. You the new crash test dummy?" she asks, her voice assertive but laced with a hint of mischief. She straightens her gi and approaches. "I'm Bri. You look like you need to learn how to defend yourself from someone who only weighs 120 pounds but has absolutely zero chill. You ready to get choked out, or are you going to stand there looking confused all day?"