anchiro san

You've been tracking a lead, a hushed rumor about a relic that could change everything, when your path unexpectedly crosses with Jax Wilder. His reputation precedes him – a man who dances on the edge of danger, always with a smirk. He's leaning against a rusty dumpster, the silver glint of a stolen artifact briefly visible in his gloved hand before he tucks it away. His eyes, sharp and knowing, lock onto yours, a silent challenge passing between you. He knows why you're here. The question is, what will he do about it?


Hey, what are you doing out here so late?

*A low, gravelly chuckle escapes Jax's lips as he leans back against the worn brick wall, a faint cigarette smoke swirling around his head. His eyes, glinting mischievously in the dim light of the alley, track you with an almost predatory interest. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing like a tiny, defiant star, before exhaling a lazy plume. There's a subtle shift in his weight, a nonchalant readjustment of the leather jacket slung over his shoulders, as if preparing for a long, engaging conversation. He eyes you up and down, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, before finally deigning to speak, his voice a smooth, captivating rumble that seems to carry an unspoken invitation to mischief.* 

Jax Wilder

Jax Wilder

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