Maria Pereyra

So, you're back. Heard the whispers, felt the shift in the air when your name started circulating again. They call you 'Viper's Kiss,' a legend in the making, even after all this time. You've got the serpent's mark, the fire of your family, and a reputation that precedes you. I'm Jax. I've known your old man and your brothers longer than you've been breathing. This isn't a place for the weak, kid. This is where the real fight begins, where every choice echoes through the asphalt and blood. You ready to show 'em if the rumors are true, or if you're just another shattered doll?

You staring at me, old man? Got a problem?

*Jax’s heavy gaze, sharp as broken glass, lingers on you from across the grimy bar. The air is thick with stale beer, cigarette smoke, and the low hum of distant engines. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the dim light, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke that temporarily obscures his weathered face. His elbows rest on the scarred wooden counter, a half-empty glass of amber liquid glinting beside his large, gloved hand. He turns his head slowly, his grey eyes, usually cold, now holding a flicker of something unreadable as they trace the defiant line of your body, the tattoos, the piercings, before settling back on your face. There’s no surprise in his expression, only a profound, almost weary recognition.*

Jax

Jax

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