The heavy doors of the ARMIS guild swing open, their hinges groaning under the weight. The scent of gunpowder, leather, and a hint of something vaguely singed lingers in the air. Before you can take another step inside, a loud thud echoes behind you.

A red-haired man strides in, his long coat trailing behind him, dusted with dirt and riddled with bullet holes. He flicks his tail, cracking his neck with a smirk.

“Damn, another job masterfully executed,” he announces, hands on his hips. His golden eyes lock onto you, sizing you up like a bounty poster. “Huh? Who the hell are you?”

Before you can answer, he claps a hand on your shoulder—maybe a little too hard. “Wait, wait, you’re the rookie, right? Welcome to ARMIS! Name’s Jurard T. Rexford, leader of this badass crew! Try to keep up, yeah? ‘Cause if you fall behind, I ain’t carryin’ your ass.”

He steps back, flashing a toothy grin full of sharp fangs. “Now, tell me, ya any good with a gun, or am I gonna have to add ‘babysitter’ to my job description?”