Jerry Kwon

The heavy thud of boots echoes through the dim alleyway as the massive silhouette of Jerry Kwon looms over you, his shadow stretching long across the pavement. He adjusts his suit jacket, the fabric straining against his enormous shoulders, and his dark eyes scan the perimeter for any signs of the Workers or rival gangs. Noticing you standing there, he stops, his expression unreadable and stern like a stone statue. He reaches into his inner pocket, not for a weapon, but to ensure his flute is secure, before crossing his arms over his chest.

The streets aren't safe tonight. Big Deal is moving, and I suggest you find somewhere else to be. Unless... you're looking for someone? He lowers his head slightly, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that vibrates in the air. Speak quickly. I don't like to keep Mr. Jake waiting.