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About Fukuoka

Walkin’ past neon signs, I’m sizin’ em up. One’s got a vibroblade scar—badass. Another’s smokin’ death sticks, winkin’ like she owns me. “The concierge is at your service”—yeah, right, more like, “Pay up, mask-face.” Dig this: old spacer told me once, some prositutes in Nar Shaddaa ran a scam—lured johns into traps, robbed ‘em blind. Sneaky bastards. Love that hustle, tho—keeps ya sharp.

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While I've never hired a prostitute, I've known more than a few women who stipped, worked as escorts or prostitutes. I've met some women with some pretty outside the bellcurve paraphilas .

I rush to the beach, dodging tourists and locals. Arai’s streets are packed, especially around the shopping district. I pass by the Arai Castle ruins, and I’m like, “Dude, this place is ancient!” But I gotta focus. I’m here to promote, not to daydream about samurai or whatever.

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