[i][color=purple][center][h1]James 'Iykos' Frost [/h1][/center][/color][/i]
[hr]
James, better known as Iykos, the Wolf of the World's Prison, turned his head towards the distinct sound of shouting and a broken car lock, contemplating his course of action for the briefest of moments before he dismissed it, his hand gently sliding off of the grip of the M1911 handgun strapped to his left thigh as he continued though the desolate streets of the prison city.

He weaved through the crumbling grey buildings with practiced ease, occasionally stopping to duck out of sight of a roaming Black Out Connection member or two. Despite the pseudo-truce between Iykos and 'The Network', he didn't want to be caught off guard and become some entrepreneuring gangster's ticket to a promotion. God knows he's got a big enough target on his back already. 

As he finally passed though the maze of buildings, he came to his destination: A seemingly nondescript and rundown cul-de-sac, complete with looted and rusting cars and piles of trash. On the red-stained bonnet of one such car was a man, who turned him with a sour expression.

Iykos nodded to him and spoke with a confident voice, with a hint of sarcasm, as his mouth curled into a subtle smirk.

[color=purple]"James Tarvelli. I'm glad you agreed to meet with me to... settle our differences."[/color]