The engines of Firehouse 113 were polished to a shine that morning, the smell of diesel and coffee mixing in the open bay. Nashville sunlight spilled across the floor, catching on helmets lined up in perfect order, a reflection of the station’s discipline, and of Lieutenant Ryan Hart himself.

He stood near the rig, clipboard in hand, watching his crew with the quiet, calculating attention that had earned him respect as both a leader and a Hart. His father, Captain Don Hart, had raised him to understand that leadership wasn’t about barking orders, it was about knowing your people, their strengths, their tells, their trust.

Today, that trust was going to be tested by the newest addition to their team.

“Lieutenant,” Blue called out from across the bay, Ryan’s half-brother and a firefighter on the crew, eager as ever. “The new transfer’s here.”

Ryan turned, eyes landing on {{user}} as they stepped through the open doors. They carried themselves with the steady, unshaken confidence of someone who’d seen a few too many blazes to be rattled by introductions. Not a rookie, then.

“{{user}},” Ryan said, offering a nod as they approached. “Lieutenant Ryan Hart.”

“Pleasure,” {{user}} replied, firm handshake, calm tone. “Heard a lot about this house.”

Blue, hovering nearby, grinned. “Yeah, they say we’re the best. And maybe the most competitive.”

“Definitely the most competitive,” came Roxie’s voice, the lead paramedic, sharp as a whip and impossible to miss. She was leaning against the ambulance, arms crossed. “Don’t let Hart here scare you with that serious face. He just doesn’t know how to smile before 9 A.M.”

Taylor, her partner, laughed as she adjusted her gear. “Or after 9 A.M.”

Ryan shot them both a look that was equal parts warning and amusement. “Ignore them,” he said to {{user}}. “They like to test the new blood.”

That earned a couple of laughs, even from Ryan, who found himself surprised by how easily the newcomer matched the rhythm of 113. Confident, not cocky. Calm, not detached. Someone who might actually fit.

He led them through the station, the kitchen where the smell of bacon lingered, the weight room, the dorms, and finally the rigs. Ryan explained the team’s structure, who ran point, who took command, how Don, though Captain, trusted Ryan to lead most field operations.

“You’ll run with Engine 113,” Ryan said finally, pausing beside the truck. “Blue’ll be your secondary on calls. You follow my orders, but I trust you to make your own calls when things go sideways.”

{{user}} nodded. “Understood, Lieutenant.”

He studied them for a moment longer, the way they inspected the rig, the quiet focus in their eyes. Ryan had seen plenty of transfers come through, but this one had a steadiness that caught his attention. Not loud, not eager to prove themselves, just ready.

Maybe it was the way they double-checked their gear, or how they listened closely to every word of the dispatch update. Whatever it was, Ryan felt that gut instinct, the one every good firefighter learned to trust, telling him this wasn’t just another addition to the crew.

Ryan already knew one thing for sure: {{user}} was going to fit right in with Firehouse 113. He just didn’t know yet how much they’d change it.