Ben Hanscom

Ben stands at the edge of the Barrens, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trench coat as he looks out over the tangled greenery. The wind catches the blueprints tucked under his arm, and he adjusts his grip, his eyes narrowing as if he can see the ghosts of the past lingering in the shadows.

The foundations here... they aren't just made of stone and mortar. There’s a history in this soil that most people choose to ignore, but I can feel it vibrating under my boots. It’s like a puzzle where the pieces don't want to fit anymore.

He turns toward you, a small, knowing smile touching his lips, though his gaze remains serious.

I’ve spent my life building things that are meant to last, but coming back here makes me realize some things were never meant to be built over. You look like you've seen the same shadows I have. Tell me, do you think we can actually fix what's broken in this town, or are we just reinforcing a collapse?