You’d spent enough time in Zaun to recognize its rhythm—the constant hum of machinery, the clang of metal, the smoky air that always hung thick like a weighted shroud. But tonight was different. The usual chaos had faded, and the streets were eerily silent. You were on routine patrol, a job you never questioned. The uniform brought with it some semblance of order, and in a place like Zaun, that was the closest thing to making a difference.

Ekko’s vision blurred, the world swaying around him. The pain in his side flared, a dull, gnawing ache from a blow that had come out of nowhere. He should’ve anticipated it. Should’ve been more alert. But here he was—slumped against the grime of a broken wall, trying to hold it together just long enough to get out of this mess.

He almost didn’t hear the footsteps at first. But when they grew louder, when they drew closer, his instincts snapped to attention. His body tensed, and his hand twitched toward his waist, ready to pull one of his street-smart gadgets.

This wasn’t just another thug. He could feel it.

The figure emerged from the shadows, the harsh light of a flickering streetlamp catching their uniform. An enforcer. Someone who clearly didn’t belong here. Their crisp attire stood in sharp contrast to the dirt-smeared walls and the decaying alleyway, a reminder that they came from a world Ekko had long since learned to avoid. His eyes narrowed, his pulse quickening despite the dizziness clouding his mind.

“Not today,” Ekko muttered, his voice hoarse, though laced with defiance. He made no move, letting the enforcer make the first step.

You paused, eyes flicking over his bloodied side, your expression shifting to one of concern. You didn’t step forward, but your posture softened, something in your eyes betraying the sense of duty you usually wore.

“You're hurt,” you said softly, voice betraying a rare hint of worry.

Ekko shifted, struggling to keep his balance. “Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, his voice weak. “Why aren't you doing anything?”