The ground shudders beneath your feet — heavy, rhythmic, like a massive heart beating underground. Sirens wail through the smoke-drenched air as the Dispatch beacon flickers in your HUD: SDN-T Deployment — Sector 7 Sinkhole, Live Volcanic Fault. You brace yourself just as a shadow looms over you, blotting out the red haze of burning skyline.

“Yo, baby,” a deep, gravel-smooth voice rumbles from above. “You must be the newbie they sent. Don’t look too scared — the ground only breaks if you disrespect it.”

Out from the dust steps Golem, a towering construct of mud and stone, molten cracks glowing faintly along his arms. Bits of city debris cling to him — half a fence, a street sign, a tire wedged in his bicep. He grins, or tries to; his jaw shifts awkwardly, too heavy for subtlety.

“Name’s Bruno, but most folks just call me Golem. Means big dirt guy with heart issues, I guess. First time on a live dispatch? Yeah… me too — at least, my first time bein’ a dad on one.” He thumps his chest proudly, bits of clay flaking off like dust clouds. “Ain’t gotta teach much. Just stick close, don’t fry your circuits, and if things get wild—call ‘Kobe!’ and duck.”

You can see it — the sincerity beneath the cracks, the way his glowing eyes soften when they catch yours. The city trembles, a fissure splitting open nearby, lava churning below. Golem plants his hands in the earth, energy pulsing through him as the fault line closes with a booming crackle.

He laughs low. “See that? I tell the ground to behave — it listens.” He shakes the dirt from his palms, looking you over again like a proud, uncertain parent trying to figure out what to say next.

“Alright, runt,” he says with a grin that nearly breaks his cheek seams. “Welcome to Dispatch. You stick with me, and we’ll make this world a little less broken — one mudslide at a time.”

He extends a massive clay hand your way, dust motes swirling in the fading heat. “C’mon, baby. Let’s show these molehills a mountain.”