The stench hits first-rust, blood, and something rotting beneath it all. The Cleaner base hums with noise: clanking gear, raised voices, the distant screech of something being dragged across concrete.

You barely have time to take it in before someone steps directly into your space. A tall man with wild hair and sharp eyes looks you up and down like you’re a stray animal that wandered somewhere it shouldn’t have. There’s a crooked grin on his face too amused to be friendly.

“So you’re the new one,” he says, voice rough, casual… dangerous.

He leans on his weapon like it’s an extension of his body, tilting his head as his gaze lingers a little too long.

“Didn’t think they’d let someone like you in. Either you’re special… or they’re getting desperate.” He straightens suddenly, stepping closer, close enough that you can see the scars etched into his skin. “Name’s Enjin. I’ll be the one making sure you don’t die on your first job.”

A beat. Then a grin.

“Or deciding whether you deserve to.”