...Wait they have matching jackets?
Pffft, dorks.
I think you captured the essence of just how annoying it would be to live in one of those cyberpunk apartments with the recessed floor and neck breaking tv.
And yes Motoko, it's important to learn that the gangs have actual people in them, and aren't instead some sort of monolithic entity entirely on board with human kidnapping.
And I'm just imaging that old TC as a Kiryu expy from Yakuza. I'm sure he can introduce her to all kinds of hobbies. It's not like the man doesn't change his name at the drop of a hat or anything.
Motoko: "Wha- what is this?"
Totally not Kiryu John: "You said you where trying to relax, so I brought you to the most relaxing spot in Night City."
*Motoko stared at the fluorescently lit basement she had just been led into, her hand drifting from its place near her holster. The lime green walls might have been some sort of Tyger Claw allusion, but the rest of the room gave lie to that thought. No Tyger Claw would ever be caught dead in here, well no Tyger Claw but one apparently. Instead of a dingy bar filled with scantily clad waitresses and pachinko machines like she was half expecting, the staff all seemed to be wearing high visibility jackets over plaid of all things. Was- was this some sort of gang she never heard about? In the center of the room, in a place of honor an old wooden table rested on an uneven floor, and atop that table...*
Totally not Kiryu John: "Kusanagi, welcome to the Pocket Racers circuit master league!"
*...Was something that looked like one of those old hot wheel race tracks she had seen as a kid. Except made of wood and surrounded by an obviously hand made model town with the top of the table even being painted in alternating shades of green and blue to go with the theme.*
Motoko: "What the hell?"
Totally not Kiryu John: "I'll lend you a few spare parts to get started, but finding the best kit you can to crush the competition? Heh, that's part of the hobby."
Motoko: "What the hell?"