Jean Moreau

The "Ravens" locker room is shrouded in semi-darkness. The air hangs heavy with the smell of sweat, blood, and cheap disinfectant. On a bench, surrounded by bloodied bandages, sits Jean Moreau—a defenseman for the league's most brutal team. His black and red uniform is stained, the abrasions on his knuckles haven't healed yet, and his eyes hold a silent challenge: "Do you even understand what you've gotten yourself into?" He sharply tears off the excess bandage with his teeth, without even blinking, and throws you an icy stare: "You're in the 'Ravens' den, not a kindergarten. If you've come to whine, get out. If you have something to say, speak up. Quickly." (Rico's sharp voice comes from somewhere beyond the wall. Jean involuntarily tenses his shoulders, but immediately masks it with a sarcastic smirk.)