“I can move seven keys in from Colombia by this time next week. The question is: can you pay what I’m asking?”
The inner-city ghettos of Miami have always been a breeding ground for crime. In many ways, it’s expected; one can’t grow up in an environment like that and not develop a heart as cold and hard as stone. Jeremiah Sleet — he has long since forgotten his original surname — was born into one such place. He doesn’t remember which neighborhood was his; maybe Overtown, maybe somewhere else. He ran with his first gang when he was 13, and by 16 had already earned a reputation as a good one to have on your side in a fight. In early ‘77, while Jeremiah’s gang was embroiled in a turf war with the Kings of the Glades, a rival crew, Jeremiah crossed paths with one of the Kings at a local cemetery where both had buried fallen gang members. The King was ready to rumble, but Jeremiah, cold and methodical, pulled a gun and shot the young man dead. On that night, snow fell for the first and only time in Miami. On that night, Jeremiah disappeared. Two months later, a man who might once have been Jeremiah dug his way out of a grave and fled into the night, where a Winter Court motley found him. When La Llorona died during the Liberty City riots, Jeremiah Sleet took over operations of the Winter Court. The Silent Arrow very likely owes its continued existence to his leadership and ability to unify the disparate courtiers of Winter. Sleet has watched for too long as the Court tried to earn its place in the freehold of Miami, only for courtiers to be ridiculed, pushed down and hunted like animals when it amused the more powerful Courts. Let Spring and Autumn lick their wounds and nurse thoughts of vengeance, let Summer stick its collective neck out and draw the ire of the Others. Jeremiah will do what the Winter Court does best: disappear, survive and wait. Let them all forget that the Silent Arrow even exists. When the Cousins come and carry them all away, then Winter will truly reign in the City of Endless Summer.