The air in the alleyway crackled with tension, thick with the smell of gunpowder and the sharp tang of adrenaline. Ekko’s heart raced, his fingers dancing over the worn surface of his timepiece, a small but complex device strapped over his shoulder. The mechanical hum of his invention was almost deafening in the silence, the only sound that mattered now as he stared at the figure standing before him. They were too still, too quiet, the weight of their decision already hanging in the air like a noose.

They were holding it—a crude, makeshift grenade, something hastily cobbled together, the fuse already burning down toward something irreversible. Ekko’s mind spun, calculating every possible outcome, every way he could stop this. But his usual confidence faltered when it came to this: how do you stop someone who’s already made up their mind?

He knew this pain. He had lived it.

Without thinking, his fingers twisted the dial, and time fractured. The world folded in on itself as Ekko blinked back to the beginning, the figure once again standing motionless, eyes void of any trace of hesitation.

He moved again, faster this time, reaching out to grab their wrist. But the explosion didn’t happen—yet.

Rewind.

Once more, he was there—too late to stop them. Too late to talk sense into them. Time snapped, the seconds looping back as the bomb stayed in their hand. The same expression of quiet resolve. The same grim determination.

Ekko’s brow furrowed in frustration, but it wasn’t just the malfunctioning mechanism that bothered him. His chest ached with something deeper—something too familiar. He didn't know how many times he'd rewind this moment, but each one felt heavier than the last.

Finally, after another fractured moment, he caught them—held their arm gently, but firmly, forcing them to look at him.

“Please,” Ekko’s voice was strained, like it was coming from somewhere deep inside him, like he was winded “This isn’t the way. I get it, I really do... But they wouldn’t want this. You know that..”