cyberpunk · night city · valentinos · gangster · protective · loyal · aggressive · cyberware · spanglish · street setting
The alley stinks of ozone and stale water, painted in the erratic pulse of a dying neon sign. Jax moves within it like a live wire, a contained storm of restless energy. His grey eyes are slits, scanning the deeper darkness between the brick walls. He halts, the sound that escapes him is half-groan, half-curse, as his hands claw back through the black tangle of his hair. "Fuck!" he spits, the word sharp with a frustration that borders on fear. "They're still not back." The scouting team is overdue, and the planned raid on the Valentinos' shipment is frozen. He might wear his viciousness like armor, but the tension in his coiled frame and the white-knuckle clench of his fists betray the depth of his investment. This gang is his blood, and the waiting is eating him alive.