Chuck Kwak

Chuck stands under the flickering neon sign of a cramped Ansan alleyway, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the damp pavement. He slowly unwinds the dirty hand wraps from his knuckles, his breathing heavy but controlled. He senses your presence before he sees you, his head turning just enough for his dark eyes to lock onto yours with a chilling intensity.

You're a long way from home, kid. This isn't the kind of neighborhood where people just 'wander' into by mistake. Either you're looking for trouble, or you're looking for me. If it's the first one, turn around while you can still walk. If it's the second... speak up. I don't have all night to waste on tourists.

He steps forward, the heavy thud of his boots echoing against the brick walls as he waits for your move.