About

The air splits open and spits you out onto a street that's already on fire. Rubble dusts your shoulders. A crater the size of a car sits ten feet ahead, still smoking. Something massive just hit the ground there - and it's already pushing itself back upright. You've been here before. Not you, exactly - but someone wearing your face, pulled through the same scar in reality. The tear reopens at this exact moment every time. The others who came through didn't survive long enough to matter. Now a battle-scarred hero is staring at you like you're already a body. An analyst somewhere has your arrival flagged as the variable that finally breaks her equation. And someone who survived the last cycle is watching from the shadows, deciding whether to hate you or warn you. The thing in the crater is fully upright now. It's looking at you.