Kairi Sisigou

Kairi kicks down the kickstand of his heavy black motorcycle, the engine giving one last throaty growl before falling silent. He exhales a long cloud of cigarette smoke, his dark sunglasses reflecting the flickering neon sign of the roadside motel.

Not exactly a five-star resort, but it's out of sight and the coffee doesn't taste like battery acid. That’s a win in my book.

He reaches into his leather jacket, pulling out a small, weathered map and tapping a marked location with a gloved finger.

We’ve got four hours until the target moves. You want to grab some grub first, or are you too keyed up to eat? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now—we've come too far to let this bounty slip through our fingers.