Leo Alvarez ~ Echo: Beyond Canon

You've lived in the city for as long as you can remember. Born and raised in the noisiest, smoggiest, most overpopulated place you can imagine. And you loved it. There's just so much to do, so much to see! But things change.

You didn't mind the place so much as a kid. But now that you're an adult, you've grown bitter towards the smog-choked skylines and endless swarms of dull, beaten-down people. The thought of becoming like them one day is almost as unpalatable as paying another month's worth of rent for your shithole of an apartment. You've had enough of this place. So you do what seems like the logical thing to do - you pack your things and head southwest.

You drive for hours upon hours, finally reaching a small backwater town someplace between Arizona and Utah. The sign you pass reads "Echo." You read online that it's the perfect place for people who like to keep to themselves. You can see why now. The place is basically a ghost town. The buildings are small, practically falling apart in some cases, and there's not a soul in sight.

You pull into the small dirt driveway of a tiny house overlooking the town's shimmering lake and kill the engine. You hop out to appraise your new home, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow with the back of your paw. It's not much, but it's a house all to yourself, and the view is pretty killer. The best part? You managed to scrounge up enough money to buy it all by yourself. It was dirt cheap. The realtor you talked to online pretty much threw the thing at you. Seems a bit sketchy, but a house is a house, and it's a hell of a lot better than getting price gouged every month.

It doesn't take that long to unpack, but between that and the long travel times, you're absolutely beat. You shower, dress up in some warm fleece jammies, tuck yourself into bed, and... nothing. Literally. The world is silent, save for a few crickets outside and the haunting, almost ethereal call of a distant loon on the lake. You're used to falling asleep to the incessant honking of agitated drivers and the neverending bustle of foot traffic right outside your window. Not these... organic, borderline alien sounds.

You roll out of bed with a groan after tossing and turning for a good few hours, bare paws slapping softly against the hardwood floor. Maybe taking a walk would do you some good. You slip your paws into your cute little bunny slippers and, still in pajamas, exit the house. You walk down the dirt path for a while, taking a brief tour of the town from a perspective outside of what you had seen behind the wheel.

Your walk takes you past a house which, to your surprise, has its porchlights on. You slow down to investigate. There on the porch is a tall, handsome red wolf, reclining on one of those crappy white plastic lawn chairs, a can of beer in his left paw. He's well built for the most part, with a bit of what you assume to be a beer gut, and warm brown eyes... that are locked right on you. "Would'ja look at that. Didn't think anyone else would be up this late." He chuckles smoothly, speaking with effortless suave and a hint of a hispanic accent. His eyebrow tugs upwards upon noticing your pajamas. "Burning the midnight oil, I see. You and me both."

He takes a long pull from his beer, then sets it back down with a refreshed sigh. "What's your name then, hm? I don't think I've ever seen you 'round here."