‘Well, that was a waste of time, huh?’ Sham said as they stepped back out into the night outside the casino.

Riot turned to him, a scowl on her face, and the time traveller realised that this throwaway comment was being interpreted in the worst way possible.

‘No, no,’ he said, ‘I mean—’

‘Yes, I know what you meant,’ Riot said curtly. ‘Well I’m sorry if our first port of call didn’t unravel this whole mystery.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

‘I’m so sorry if we didn’t just stumble across one man in a city of millions,’ Riot continued.

‘I’m sorry!’ Sham interjected, and his apology was far more sincere than either of Riot’s. ‘It was an off-hand comment, OK? I didn’t mean anything by it.’

His friend didn’t say anything at first, but her glare did seem to soften a tad. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’m going to… I’m going to get some sleep.’

Sham opened his mouth to reply, but found that he was interrupted once more.

‘No, that’s not an invitation,’ Riot said.

The time traveller smacked his brow. ‘I didn’t say it was!’

‘Good,’ the woman said, shrugging. ‘Just wanted to be sure.’

‘I…’ Sham started, then found the words lost in his throat. A group of drunks—all men old enough to have earned a living but young enough to still be out at this time of night—stumbled past. One of them stumbled to the edge of the canal, bent over the railings, and expelled the contents of his stomach. Sham’s instinct was to judge him, but then he realised: this wasn’t anything he hadn’t done countless times himself over the past few months.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow evening,’ Sham finally finished, and then added. ‘If that’s OK?’

‘What for?’ Riot asked, notably avoiding answering the question until she knew what she was agreeing to.

‘The trade,’ Sham said. ‘Should be fine, I just… I just need you to keep someone away.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Not something you can do yourself? I do have a life outside of you, you know.’

‘You might save a life.’

Riot shrugged, gestured to the world around them as if that meant something. ‘Someone might die? What does that matter? If, as you say, the Loop is just going to start all over again, then—’

‘Because it might not,’ Sham interrupted.

The steadfastness on Riot’s face faded at that; even she couldn’t turn down such a calling. ‘Will I need my revolver?’ she asked.

‘It’s an old man, I think you’ll be fine.’

Riot studied his face for a few moments longer, hand hovering over the bulge in her jacket where she stored her weapon. ‘I think I’ll take it anyway.’

Sham shrugged. ‘Fine. Be my guest. You reckon you can get yourself to Plenty Harbour, or you want to swing by my place first?’

There was a pause. Calculations were visible on the face of Sham’s friend. ‘I know where you live?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.

‘Ah. Not in this timeline, no. But in another Loop, yeah.’

‘I’ve been there? We didn’t…’ Riot trailed off, leaving the rest of the question unspoken. Perhaps she couldn’t bear to say it.

‘No, Riot,’ Sham replied. ‘Just how many times are you gonna ask about that?’

The woman sighed, ambled over to the canal—not anywhere near where the drunkard had vomited—and leant her arms on the railing. Water trickled by somewhere in the distance. A canal boat bobbed up and down, its side occasionally thunking against the canalside at the whims of the waves. Sham joined Riot here.

‘I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here, Sham,’ Riot finally said. ‘You say we’ve met before—’

‘Several times.’

‘Met before several times, yes, but that’s exactly my point. You remember all these conversations, these interactions, yet I have to retread old ground with you. I don’t know you like you know me. I feel like—’

‘I should fill you in?’ Sham guessed.

‘—an idiot,’ Riot finished.

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah,’ the posh woman said. ‘Yeah.’

They stared on at the water, side by side, neither of them turning their heads to risk eye contact with the other. A shout echoed across the water from the other side, but in this low light Sham couldn’t see the source. It didn’t matter; it was a shout of joy rather than one of anger.

‘I’ll see you there, Sham,’ Riot said, and left him alone on the canal.

He didn’t turn to watch her go.

Day 4

The day passed slowly.

Each hour that went by felt like a day. Each minute, an hour. Sham had all the time in the world, and nothing to do with it. It was a cruel twist of fate indeed.

He could’ve continued the search for Kryl, he supposed, but it felt like a hopeless venture without the insight of Riot at his side. And all his quests seemed to depend on Kryl. He needed to Save The Tower, but the best way to do that was to have Kryl at his side, completing the criteria, he suspected of the Save Kryl, Save The World quest. And in order to investigate the Paradox, he might just have to break it first. And he didn’t want to get started on Life In The Revolution and whatever bullshit that would rope him into.

So he was alone.

He’d taken a trip down to a local cafe, ordered a strong cup of tea. It’d done little to quell the aches and pains growing within his ailing body. The rest would do him some good, he figured, but that didn’t detract from how mind-numbingly boring a life alone could be.

‘Alone,’ Recollection muttered.

Though it was likely not the point that the living skill had intended to make, Sham realised that he hadn’t spent a day alone in… eleven? Twelve days? It was hard to count days in the midst of a time loop, especially when he’d died a couple of times in there too. Between Kryl, the Church of the Loopkeeper, and—most often—Riot, there had always been someone that Sham had been able to talk to. But now… nobody.

A part of him yearned to reach out to the woman he loved, to seek her out, to—

‘Don’t poke that beast,’ Recollection slurred. ‘Not if you know what’s good for you.’

But Sham was done, now, interacting with this bully of a sapient skill. It could go to hell for all he—

‘Oi! You go to hell. How about that?’

Sham laid in bed, staring up at the peeling paintwork on the ceiling, until, finally… Finally… The sun set over the buildings.

He got up, yanked on his boots. It was time to get back to work.

Riot was already waiting at Plenty Harbour when Sham arrived, even though he’d arrived there with good time. He’d caught sight of her from afar, before she’d seen him, and he couldn’t help but smirk when she glanced at her pocketwatch. This was a woman with seemingly nothing to do and yet no time at all in which to do it. She’d changed her clothes since Sham had last seen her, replacing a pink shirt with a black blouse, and her grey skirt with some more practical trousers. Sham came to realise that Riot never wore the same outfit twice—at least not that she knew of—yet every outfit seemed intentional. Seemed to work. It was more effort than he put into his appearance, and he only owned three shirts. Though maybe that made it harder to dress well. And maybe he didn’t need to.

Riot raised her eyebrows when she caught sight of Sham—an unspoken signal of irritation that Sham chose to ignore. Instead he nodded, greeting Riot with a smile.

‘You’re well?’ Riot replied.

‘Well?’ Sham threw back at her, speaking the word semi-mockingly.

Riot pressed her lips together. ‘How long do we have?’

‘Twenty minutes or so. Plenty of time.’

His friend made a face that suggested she didn’t think that twenty minutes was “plenty of time”. ‘You haven’t told me what you need me to do.’

Sham nodded, guided her over to the entrance to the harbour—to where Asa’s thugs had forced him into the hands of the Citizen’s Police two loops earlier. But there was no need to repeat that particular bit. Not if he could help it.

‘You wait here,’ he said. ‘And—’

‘And do what?’ Riot interjected.

‘I’m getting to it. Stay here and keep watch. I’m expecting a man to show up. Old, a little frail, tan skin. You need to keep him out.’

‘Why? What’s he going to do?’

‘If you don’t stop him?’ Sham replied. ‘He’s gonna get himself killed. At the hands of the person I’m meeting with.’

Riot remained quiet, waiting for Sham to continue. When he didn’t, she asked, ‘That it?’

‘That’s it.’

‘That is all you needed me to do?’

‘What, saving a man’s life isn’t worth your time?’

Riot’s cheeks grew flush with colour. ‘What? No. I wasn’t saying that. I was saying…’

But Sham waved her down. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, though he felt as though his tone didn’t communicate that he meant it. He didn’t mean it, of course, but Riot didn’t need to know that. Sham turned his attention to other things, namely Asa’s colleagues that would emerge from the shadows once the deal was made.

‘And, look,’ he continued, ‘if anyone else turns up, after you’ve turned the old man away…’

‘Who? Who would turn up? You didn’t tell me—’

‘It’s fine,’ Sham said again. ‘They won’t be after you. So you just leave, and you let me handle them.’

Riot licked her lips—that trademark movement that said she was deep in thought. After a moment, she pulled her revolver from her pocket, handed it to Sham. ‘If it’s going to be dangerous, then maybe you should…’

‘Nah. Better not. More likely to shoot myself than I am anyone else. And, besides, it might make getting that vial more difficult.’

Riot’s eyes widened. ‘They’re Asa’s men?’

‘It’s fine,’ Sham said once more. ‘I got it. I got a plan. I can handle it.’ And it really was fine. If Asa backed out of the deal—as he’d meant to last time—Sham knew to drop Gresley’s name. If this mysterious partnership with Gresley’s shadowy masters was going to last, Asa would need to spare a skill vial. It was, surely, a small price for him to pay.

‘Lots of things are fine today,’ Riot commented.

Sham checked her face for signs of a smile. He found none. ‘You sure you’re alright with all this?’

‘Are you… giving me a choice?’

‘Without you, someone dies. So no.’

‘Hmm,’ Riot said. ‘Thought not.’

‘So…’

‘I’m alright with this, yes. Indeed. Now go, run along, do your thing. I have a fresh bottle of gin waiting for me at home. Have found I’ve needed it since…’ She trailed off, waved her hands in the air.

‘Since me?’ Sham guessed.

‘Since I was introduced to the concept of being unknowingly trapped in a time loop. But you, yes, sure.’

Sham failed to suppress a smirk. ‘You’d been being a lot nicer to me in this loop. I did wonder when that was gonna change.’ To his surprise, this comment was met with a smile. Maybe even a genuine one.

‘Go on,’ Riot said, gesturing him away with the flicks of her fingers. ‘Do what you need to do.’

So Sham did.

The red fishing vessel was exactly where it had been two loops ago, paying host to the same giant pile of nets which disguised the small owl-marked crate. That everything was as it had been before was a good sign; four days into a loop, Sham and Kryl’s differing actions could have had major repercussions on how events in Haven unfolded. But the boat being as it was meant that little had changed how tonight would play out.

The heavy ropes pained Sham’s back as he hauled them, forcing him to take pauses, sit down for a few minutes at a time. Had it been this difficult two loops ago?

‘Yes,’ Recollection answered. ‘You just complained about it less.’

Sham pursed his lips and continued on, making sure this time to keep at it, to groan to himself less. Not that Recollection had got to him at all. Finally, the crate was revealed, and Sham felt the weight of liquid-filled vials within them. A part of him considered consuming these vials, sod whatever Asa would give him, he had loads now, in front of him! But upon opening the box, checking the labels, Sham found that they were written in a language he didn’t know. These vials could be anything, he supposed—poison, even. And it was risky enough taking these vials when he did know what was inside.

With an irritated snort, Sham slammed the box closed, and concentrated on hauling it up the pier to where he knew the mysterious foreign captain was waiting. Pains shot down his spine, but, fearing the mocking tones of Recollection, he tried to ignore them.

The lone sailor watched him approach from the prow of his boat, once again making no attempt to help Sham with his heavy load.

Sham grunted as he placed the crate down in front of him, then stared back into the man’s dark eyes.

‘You are he?’ the man said. ‘One of them?.’

‘Just as before,’ Recollection slurred.

Yes. Until Riot stops Mona’s dad approaching. Perhaps Asa’s men were already out there, in the shadows, watching him.

Sham searched his memory, allowing Recollection to hand him the same response as before. ‘One of who?’ he asked.

The sailor seemed to relax. ‘Good. Identities are hidden. We do as agreed.’

‘Here’s the package,’ Sham said, gesturing to the crate.

‘Straight—’

‘To business, yeah,’ the time traveller finished for the sailor.

A small smile crossed the man’s face. ‘Hmm. It is wise.’

The sailor stepped off his vessel with just the same elegance as last time around, and grabbed the crate with a strength that still surprised Sham, even on second viewing.

‘Payment,’ Sham prodded him.

‘Ah, yes…’ the sailor said. ‘And what if—’

‘You give me none?’ Sham finished, remembering this rather unfunny “joke” from the last time. ‘Then we have trouble. But we both don’t want trouble. And you are joking, aren’t you, after all?’

The sailor narrowed his eyes, the humour faded from his face. Perhaps not letting this joke play out had been a mistake, but Sham didn’t like the idea of this arrogant man getting away with treating people like that.

‘Hmm,’ the sailor finally said, pulling the same carefully folded letter into Sham’s hand. Just as before. Good. Into the jacket pocket it went, and—

A shout rang out from across the pier. From back towards the gate. A man’s voice.

The sailor’s head snapped to the coastline, his eyes suddenly wide. ‘Could be…’ he muttered. ‘Could be people listen in.’

‘No,’ Sham tried. ‘It’s fine. It’s probably nothing. Stay. It’s...’

[COMMAND] LEAVE IT!: FAIL

Nope. This is not the kind of man who takes orders.

Gods damn it. Common grade skills really counted for fuck all sometimes. Maybe he’d get a Command vial from Asa instead. Maybe… No. Vigour. With his condition, it had to be Vigour, above all else.

The foreign sailor barged past Sham, not caring to walk around him and slamming him in the shoulder as he moved. Sham staggered a moment, his legs weak from the past few days’ events, but regained his balance just in time to see the sailor storming down the pier towards the source of the noise.

‘Wait!’ Sham called after him.

If he didn’t hear—Sham suspected he heard perfectly well—he gave no indication of it, progressing as just the same speed as he had before.

‘Oi!’ Sham cried out again, but received much the same response. That is to say: no response at all. With a grunt, the time traveller pursued the mysterious sailor, hurrying after him down the boardwalk until he saw, up ahead, Riot arguing with an enraged old man. Mona’s father.

The captain came suddenly to a halt, forcing a hurrying Sham to swing to one side to avoid crashing into him. With cold eyes on the pair up ahead, the sailor reached to his waist and pulled free his revolver—meaning to do exactly what Sham had been trying to avoid.

‘Suppose this time loop thing is harder than you thought, huh?’