echo argent || district four || done

 ECHO ARGENT

"-and that's when you put on the clown suit." He speaks with the ghost of a smile, eyes hungry as they appraise her. X doesn't laugh, she's got that whole 'broody' business down pat but they way her vein pops along the line of her neck is satisfying enough.

Winter washes over him in an amber gaze, "No." It doesn't sting when she walks away because Echo's certain she caught onto this scheme halfway through the part about water balloons filled with goat's milk. The fact that she'd made it to Agent Bobo was a kindness he hadn't seen in weeks.

They call him cold and calculating, a mind made of maps. He bets on probability an accounts for luck. Echo believes in chaos born of binary code, there are infinite possibilities and he doesn't miss a single one. He's tasted the consequence of discord, red like wine dribbled down his father's shirt.

He's an orphan, all the best evil masterminds are. Can't monologue about a tragic backstory if you don't have one yeah? Don't ask what it is though, he doesn't like to talk about it. That's why he's made up of coffee beans and pastry crumbs, they've had a home base for a couple years now but he hasn't given himself a bedroom. Sleep is one hell of an arch nemesis.

That's when the memories come, red like wine dribbled down his father's shirt.

Here's the scenario, yeah? Thirteen year old kid half-delirious and mostly dead. Not a single relative left alive and maybe two-and-a-half years worth of career training under your belt. No money, no home, and a target on your back. You were kind of a spoiled brat growing up and you've never done a day's work in your life, how do you plan to survive?

Sign yourself away to some gangsters and spend three years getting the shit kicked out of you and doing grunt work? It seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd nursed a hell of a broken spirit until this moody thirteen year old ended up in the same suicide mission as him and he'd uttered five fateful words -

"Listen, I've got a plan."

Echo's smart as hell and X can hold a hell of a grudge. They were pretty much made to take over the world. They bid their time, it's easy to lick boots when you've got no pride left to lose. When they reached the top of the ladder they burned the whole damn thing to the ground. That felt pretty good.

A shit-ton of enemies were born from shrapnel and flame that day but Echo's always been good at making those. He'd make a thousand more for her.

They probably could have gone off the grid at that point, bought a cottage on the beach and lived out the rest of their days bathed in newfound freedom.

But that'd be a waste of a good origin story.

Echo isn't big on altruism but rich people are really fucking annoying. He doesn't steal for greed but for sport. If they didn't want people to try to steal their priceless knickknacks they shouldn't hire all those peacekeepers and bodyguards and definitely shouldn't install such fancy security systems. You're just making it a challenge at that point.

Echo loves a challenge. Can't just rob 'em blind, you gotta have some flair y'know?

X has yet to okay indoor fireworks show but if he keeps slipping it in she's bound to overlook it eventually. A couple of minor burns and temporary deafness is totally worth the look on their face.

They don't even keep half the money they amass, just enough to get by. That way you can keep other kids from falling into the same dead-end he did.

Echo's a laid-back guy for someone so neurotic. He'd learned to hide panic attacks behind a smile a few years into indentured servitude. That nervous feeling he gets when the gang settles down around the dining room table? The way he screams until his throat bleeds when the colors leak out from in between the lines, when someone makes a simple mistake?

Don't mention the bad days, that's forbidden territory.

His plans are foolproof, they have to be. He's made sure they are.

He's not going to get anyone killed.

again.