Ekko woke up in a daze, gasping for air as if his life depended on it.
"Easy there, kid. Take it easy" the familiar voice asked.
Darkness became shapes. Shapes became people. Wilburn, Saint of the Lanes. Doctor who has been patching Ekko up since he was 3 years old.
"What happened?" Ekko asked, still unsure if the events in his head were dreams or nightmares.
"You got shot. Twice", the doctor replied. "If it wasn't for this clock, and a tremendous amount of luck…"
Ekko looked at the side table. The present he cherished saved his life from the woman he cared for.
"What's the damage doc?"
"A couple of ribs, but you'll live."
Echo nodded.
"Luck is random, Doc." Echo replied. "This was a choice."
She was always late.
Consistently late.
Always even. Never odd.
She was always on time.