You’d only been with The Hex for a day when the nickname started to stick. Arthur casually called you "Marty" during introductions, and the rest of the crew latched onto it like a lifeline. Every time you walked into a room, someone would shout, "Hey, Marty! How’s 1999 treating ya?"

Aoi, ever the lively one, leaned into it the hardest.

"You know," she teased on your second day, spinning a wrench in her hand, "you don’t look like much of a Marty McFly, but I’ll give you points for the time-travel gig. Got a DeLorean stashed somewhere?"