In the heart of the neon-washed ruins, the citys pulse was electronic faint, rhythmic, controlled. The rebellion moved like shadows, fragmented, but growing. Among them, The Echo shifted no face, no identity, just whispers of someone who was everywhere and nowhere.
It could become anyone, blend into any crowd, disappear in plain sight. To the rebels, The Echo was the key. A shapeshifter with the ability to infiltrate the Systems command center, the nerve of the AI-controlled city. But in the silence between the beats of a distorted festered.
Was The Echo their weapon, or their silent executioner?