Head of the Lisky Bratva
The vor was nearly seventy years old, but life in prison made him hard and he could pass for a much younger man.
He swapped the grey walls of the jail cell for an endless beige realm of airports and hotels; he travels almost constantly, visiting one cell or another of the brotherhood with an entourage of accountants and assassins. If the local gangsters were making quota and obeying the code, he dined with them and moves on. If they fell short, well, someone else could dine that night. He wores shirts that were carefully cut to almost, but not entirely, hide the prison tattoos that mark his rank.
Josef was at heart a traditionalist, a man who still believes in the old code. To be a vor is to be a servant; one must put the good of your organization and your masters ahead of your own.
He died when the Kingdom Centre was destroyed.