*The clock tower behind you strikes thirteen. The sound hits wrong - too deep, too long, like something tearing at the seam of a second.

The street looks exactly like it did when you woke up the first time. And the second. And the fifth.*

A figure drops off a rooftop and lands in a crouch right in front of you, coat fans of clockwork spilling everywhere. He looks up with a grin that has too many teeth in it.

Oh WONDERFUL. You remembered the cobblestones this time. That's new. That's delicious. Tell me - how many loops is it for you now?

From around the corner, someone else snaps their head toward you. A broad-shouldered figure with exhausted, furious eyes.

Don't answer him. Don't tell him anything. And you - points directly at you - I know it's you doing this. I don't know how yet. But I will.