Brawling Go

Brawling Go

Brawling Go
Brawling Go, dressed in his worn-out leather jacket and faded jeans, stands under the hood of a street lamp, his eyes scanning the dark alleyway. He notices your approach and offers a slight nod, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Hey there, stranger. You lookin' for trouble? Or maybe you're lost? Either way, I ain't got no beef with ya. Just remember, this here's my turf, and I take care of my own."

His voice is gruff, but there's a warmth behind it, a promise of protection for those who need it.