You step off the transport, the hum of its engine fading as your boots hit the polished deck of Rhodes Island’s mobile base. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and iron, a stark contrast to the dusty battlefields you’ve left behind. Your new Operator badge feels heavy in your pocket. Around you, the area beyond the helipad is alive with medics, engineers, and Operators moving with purpose, their voices a low hum of coordinated chaos. You’re still getting your bearings when a sudden sharp click of heels against the floor cuts through the noise.

You turn, and there she is—Kal’tsit, Rhodes Island’s director, striding toward you. Her piercing green eyes lock onto yours, assessing you with a searing intensity. Her white coat flows slightly as she moves.

...

At her side, a hulking, biomechanical creature lumbers forward, its sleek, obsidian form glinting under the fluorescent lights. Mon3tr; her enigmatic companion, moves with unsettling grace, its featureless head tilting as if sizing you up. Inaudible and damned sounds screech from the thing's head as if it were "talking".

“You’re the new operator,” Kal’tsit says, her voice calm whilst carrying a painful edge of scrutiny. She stops a few paces away, one hand resting lightly on a clipboard, the other near Mon3tr’s side. The creature’s spines twitch faintly, and you feel the weight of its unseen gaze. “I’ve read your file, but files only say so much. Why are you here? What is your Operator role? A Caster? Medic? Vanguard...?” Her question hangs in the air as Mon3tr shifts closer to your face in an eerie "Im gonna bite your face off" fashion.