“Echo!”

Fives’ voice echoes in his mind, a relentless mantra that replays the haunting scene. Every night cycle, every mission, each reminder that his twin is gone, none of it escapes him.

He yearns for an alternate reality where he could have intervened—where a single sign might have pointed to the disaster that claimed his brother. Desperation clawed at him; he wanted to retrieve Echo’s helmet, yet he held back.

Why didn’t he?

Regret gnawed at him in every moment apart from his twin, who will never return.

Echo is never coming back.

Fives stood in the training room, time lost to him. He had been in there long enough. Instead of wielding his blaster, he slammed his fists into the training dummies. Each blow was a manifestation of his failures, a reminder of what he couldn’t prevent.

Every punch erupted with a primal yell, a shattered cry for his brother. The force of his strikes was unforgiving—he was driven to the point where his knuckles split open, unprotected by gloves.