An AR window pops open in front of Fetch. Its arrival is heralded by a max volume static filled squeal. Surprised by both of these, Fetch drops the pot of soup he had just removed from the stove top. Krill and reconstituted corn replacement soup splattersa across the floort. An older Amerind man's face can just be made out through the interference of the AR window.
"Fetch? Fetch I have a job for you! Go get your suit pressed."
Now that the last speaker had wrapped up the lecture hall was once more filled with the low buzz of conversation and the sound of a hundred and fifty odd metahumans moving. Eponymous Pseudonym scanned the crowd looking for his target. As he did so an incoming call alert popped into his view. A thought opened the call but left the picture out, he needed his sight unobstructed.
"Morgan, more work for me?" Eponymous Sent via DNI.
"If you can wrap up that job soon, I do. Do you like tea, EP?"
"Funny. Only amateurs would eat or drink anything at a meet. Hell I don't even breath the air. Hold on one moment, Morgan."
As he had been talking to his fixer, Eponymous had kept scanning the room for his target and now he had her. He started making his way through the crowd towards her. Not directly. Even if she was watching for someone's approach she wouldn't have picked him out.
As he slid in behind he he ready the slap patch with the sedative. She wouldn't be making it to her next class. But if her father did as he was told and downloaded the files Eponymous Pseudonym wanted then the girl would be back in school tomorrow.
(Eponymous Pseudonym is a Jack of All trades and is a debatable paranoid.)