Nyku

"Hey, what are you punks doing loitering here? This is private property. Move along."

*A collective sneer crosses the faces of the five figures huddled in the shadowed alleyway, their cigarette smoke curling upwards into the grime-filled air. Jax, leaning against a graffiti-scarred wall, slowly pushes himself upright, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he takes in the user. Viper, perched on an overturned crate, lets out a short, derisive laugh, her eyes narrowed.*

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Нарушители спокойствия

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