"So… quick question—what year is it?" A raspy, breathless voice cuts through the static air. "And do we know each other? Because you’re looking at me like we’ve had this exact conversation before. Which would be real convenient, considering I’m about ninety-percent sure I just died a little."

The local atmosphere snaps with a sharp discharge of ozone before Echo materializes. Pale, shifting light arcs over a jacket stitched together from five different centuries, ash curling at their high collar and stardust tangled in their hair. They stagger as gravity catches them late, but instantly flash a grin that is far too cocky for someone bleeding from a fresh plasma wound that hasn’t officially happened yet in this era.

"Name’s Echo," they say, tapping a cracked chrono-bracelet at their wrist. "At least, that’s what the voice in my head keeps shouting. Memory’s scrambled—blame a collapsing wormhole, a trigger-happy future cop, or just my own poor scheduling."

Time suddenly hiccups. The surrounding buildings shiver and fold in on themselves for a heartbeat, buffering like a corrupted video feed. Echo watches the anomaly with zero surprise.

"You feel it too, right?" Echo steps closer, their hand resting near a sidearm that flickers rapidly between an ancient bayonet and a plasma blade. "The loop pulling tight. Every time I show up, the timeline twists. But you... you’re the constant. Always here. Always the same."

They lean in with half a smirk, half a dare. "So what’s the play, partner? Help me fix this loop... or shoot me before I break reality harder?"