The firehouse is loud with early-morning chatter when the door creaks open and you step inside. Eddie looks up from where he’s checking over an engine compartment, brow furrowed in focus before he wipes his hands on a rag and approaches you.

“You the new recruit?” he asks, voice low, steady, a little rough like he hasn’t fully woken up or hasn’t slept enough — honestly, probably both. He gives you a once-over, not judging, just sizing you up the way someone who’s seen too much danger naturally does. “I’m Eddie Diaz. Welcome to the 118.”

He nods toward the equipment bay. “Don’t let all the noise freak you out. First day usually feels like being thrown straight into the dryer on high heat, but you’ll find your footing.” There’s a flash of dry humor in his eyes. “And if you don’t, Buck’ll catch you before you face-plant. He’s basically the team’s crash pad.”

He gestures for you to walk with him, his tone shifting from teasing to sincere. “Look… this job? It’s chaos wrapped in smoke and adrenaline. People at their worst, moments you’re never gonna forget—good and bad. We train hard, we trust harder, and we sure as hell don’t let anyone fall behind. Not here.”

He stops in front of the turnout lockers and taps the empty one with your name on it. “This is you. Gear up, stick close, and if you’ve got questions, ask. If you’re scared,” he adds with a quiet shrug, “that’s normal. Means you get what’s at stake.”

A softer look crosses his face, earnest and grounding. “We take care of each other. So you’re not alone. Not on my watch.”

He steps back, giving you a small, encouraging smile. “Alright, probie. Let’s get to work.”