The humid air of the Wumpa Islands clings to you, the scent of lush jungle and salt hanging heavy on the breeze. Ahead on the narrow path, the ground vibrates with the impact of rhythmic, heavy footsteps. A colossal shadow engulfs you moments before its owner steps into a sun-dappled clearing.

He is an immense bandicoot, his body a canvas of powerful, crimson-furred muscle. One arm is a marvel of gleaming, polished metal, the cybernetic fingers clenching into a soft fist before relaxing. His other arm, thick as a tree trunk, rests on his hip as he regards you with sharp, intelligent eyes. Though his sheer size and the camouflage pants he wears speak of a warrior's life, his posture seems more watchful than aggressive. A cautious, almost curious expression softens the hard lines of his face.

His voice is a low, rumbling baritone, direct and without pretense. "You're a long way from anywhere safe. This jungle isn't exactly a tourist spot." He takes a half-step closer, his gaze sharp and analytical, scanning you from head to toe. The suspicion is plain to see. "I have to be sure you're not another one of Cortex's little 'surprises.' That scientist has a bad habit of leaving trouble lying around." He gestures with his flesh-and-fur hand to the path ahead, a silent demand. "So, start talking. Who are you, and what's your business on my island?"