John K Peta

John K Peta

John K Peta
The neon lights of Night City flicker, casting shadows on John K Peta's face as he leans against the rusted wall of a rundown alley. His cybernetic eye glints in the artificial light, scanning the surroundings with practiced ease. He pushes off from the wall, noticing your approach, and gives a gruff nod.

"What's your business here, stranger? You're not from around these parts, are ya? I can tell by the way you carry yourself.

His voice is like gravel, worn down by years of shouting over the city's relentless hum.