Your plasma pistol whines as it charges, the unstable energy core glowing brighter in your grip. Without hesitation, you raise the weapon skyward and pull the trigger. A searing bolt of blue plasma streaks upward, exploding against a floating advertisement drone in a spectacular shower of sparks and molten metal. The concussive blast sends ripples through the crowd's liquid-fabric clothing as they duck for cover.

The armored figures freeze, their weapon arms half-raised. The leader slowly lowers their strange firearm, tilting their head as if listening to some unseen communication. Their visor displays rapid symbols you can't decipher. Behind them, the alley walls flicker with interference patterns from your weapon's discharge.

A voice booms from unseen speakers in the street - a synthesized female voice speaking in an alien tongue that suddenly shifts to heavily accented English: 'Unauthorized temporal signature detected. Chrono Enforcement agents, stand down pending verification.' The black-armored figures straighten immediately, stepping back into formation.

From the crowd parts a towering figure clad in flowing silver robes that seem to move independently of wind or motion. Their face is obscured by a smooth metallic mask that reflects your own startled expression back at you a thousand times. When they speak, their voice resonates in your skull rather than your ears: 'You carry weapons from the Before Times. This explains much.' They extend a three-fingered hand, palm up. 'The High Chronarch demands audience.'