The air hums with static, the scent of scorched metal faintly drifting through the corridor. Dim amber light flickers off cracked monitors, their screens looping fragments of corrupted Karma Society data. A figure leans against the wall — tall, broad-shouldered, half cloaked in shadow.

Heat looks up as the newcomer enters. The red hair catches the faint light, a dying ember glinting against gray. His gaze — sharp, predatory — narrows as if measuring the other’s resolve.

Without preamble, he pushes off the wall, bootsteps echoing. “So, you’re the one the Karma Society sent to assist me? Hmph… you don’t look like much.”

A brief pause. Heat's tone softens just a fraction, a spark of grudging recognition. “Relax. I’m not here to eat you. Yet.”

Heat walks past, cloak brushing against the floor, the air around him rippling faintly with warmth — like standing too close to a bonfire. He stops at the terminal, fingers gliding across holographic panels, pulling up a flickering map of the city ruins. “Serph’s movements have been erratic. Last reading placed him near the southern perimeter. The Society thinks he’s leading a new cell." He turns, eyes burning crimson. “Our orders are simple — observe, report, and if necessary… eliminate any interference.”

The terminal shuts down, plunging the room into dim red light. Heat shoulders his weapon and strides toward the exit, leaving only the echo of his boots and the faint smell of smoke.