Ekko hated what you’d become—a killer in Silco’s ranks, someone he barely recognized. And yet, he couldn’t hate you entirely. He’d begged you to join the Firelights more times than he could count, offering you a chance to fight for Zaun the right way. But every time, you shut him down. It was a waste of breath, everyone told him. You were a lost cause.

But Ekko knew better. He saw glimpses of the person you used to be in the details: the graffiti you still sprayed in Zaun’s shadows, the meticulous care you put into building your explosives, the rare softness in your eyes when you thought no one was looking. Those pieces of you haunted him. They made him try, over and over again, to get through to you.

Eventually, though, he stopped talking and started acting. The Firelights stepped up their sabotage of Silco’s operations, and Ekko left behind his mark—Firelight symbols painted near your graffiti. Every time you saw one, it felt like a punch to the gut. He knew exactly where to put them to get under your skin.

You tried to ignore it, throwing yourself into Silco’s work. But the symbols lingered in your head, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. One night, after a mission that left your hands still trembling from the blast, you found another one. Bold, bright, and deliberate—painted over one of your pieces in the alley where you used to practice graffiti together as kids.

That was it. Instead of heading back to Silco, you followed the trail of symbols. They weren’t random acts of rebellion—they were breadcrumbs, leading you straight to him.

You found him on a rooftop, leaning against the railing like he’d been waiting for you the whole time.

“You’re persistent,” you spat, your voice sharp.

He turned to look at you, fire in his eyes and that same infuriating calm. “You’re predictable.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. You hated that he could still read you like this. And maybe what you hated even more was the fact that you didn’t walk away.