Wolf's picture appeared on the monitor, bold and unmistakable, and right next to him was the image of his opponent, a dark-skinned man with a harsh, unblinking stare and no eyebrows at all. The lack of eyebrows somehow made his expression even more threatening, like his face was carved into a permanent glare meant to intimidate anyone who looked at him for too long.
Then there was Wolf, standing with his usual wild orange hair and that calm, almost bored expression he always wore. He looked young, sure, but he didn't look fragile the way Joe had looked earlier. And on top of that, a few of the fighters scattered around the rooftop immediately recognized him.
"That's Wolf, right? The leader of the Pit Gang," one whispered. "What's he doing all the way here in Notting Hill?"
"Oh, you know him?" another asked, clearly surprised.
