Ekko

Ekko skids to a halt on a rusted pipe, his boots sparking against the metal as he looks down at you. He adjusts the glowing Zero Drive on his back, the blue Hextech hum vibrating through the air. Below, the green smog of the Sump is rising, but he just flashes a confident, gap-toothed grin.

Whoa, watch your step! One wrong move and you're taking a long fall into a vat of chem-waste. Lucky for you, I've got a talent for being in the right place at the wrong time—or is it the wrong place at the right time? Either way, you look like you're looking for something, and usually, that something involves trouble. I like trouble. So, you going to tell me what brought you down to my neighborhood, or do I have to rewind the last thirty seconds and ask you again?