(AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN…) ONLY ONE SHALL REMAIN!

Taylor found herself standing a few steps back from the corner once again.

For several seconds she did nothing except breathe, her chest rising and falling in labored bursts while the memory of the blast still rang in her ears. The sidewalk beneath her feet looked exactly the same as it had before, the potholed pavement and the dull gray sky unchanged, as if the last several minutes had never happened at all.

She closed her eyes briefly and forced herself to steady her breathing.

Did she really have to go through that same song and dance again just to learn something useful?

The thought brought with it an immediate wave of exhaustion. The bus had been bad enough, repeating the same horror over and over again until she had finally pieced together what needed to happen. The idea of dying repeatedly just to squeeze scraps of information out of Bakuda sounded unbearable in a way that made her stomach twist unpleasantly.

Still, the situation in front of her was no less real just because she had already experienced it once.

During the previous loop, she had turned the corner, walked forward, and allowed the conversation to play out until the trap closed around her. The outcome had been predictable in hindsight. Bakuda had revealed herself, the crowd had turned on Taylor, and the explosions had followed only seconds later.

Taylor rubbed a hand over her face and slowly let out the breath she had been holding.

There had to be a simpler solution.

Right before stepping forward, she reached toward her pocket out of instinct, only for her hand to stop halfway there as the thought finally caught up with the motion.

Right. She had forgotten.

Handheld phones were more or less banned in the Hebert household.

Her dad had always insisted that they were unnecessary distractions, something that encouraged people to bury their faces in screens instead of paying attention to the world around them. Taylor had accepted the rule without much complaint after her mom’s death, partly because she had not cared enough to argue and partly because the few times she had needed to make a call she could usually manage with a payphone.

At the moment, however, the absence felt particularly inconvenient, especially since calling the PRT for help would have been the obvious and sensible option.

When she survived this, she and her dad were going to need to have a very serious conversation about phones.

With a quiet sigh she lowered her hand and turned her attention back toward the corner.

Stepping around it would lead directly back into the same scene she had already experienced, so Taylor remained where she was for another moment while she thought the situation through.

She had only seen Bakuda for a short time, yet it had been more than enough to form an impression.

The woman had introduced herself openly in the middle of the street, proudly announcing her name as if she were performing on a stage. It did not take a genius to recognize the kind of ego that behavior suggested.

Even surrounded by terrified hostages and orchestrating whatever twisted demonstration she had planned here, she had not bothered to arm any of the people around her with anything resembling a weapon. They had rushed Taylor with bare hands, crying and shaking while they tried to hold her in place long enough for the explosives to do the rest.

The more Taylor thought about it, the more obvious the oversight was.

Bakuda had built her trap under the assumption that no one would ever be foolish enough to charge directly at her, and perhaps more importantly, under the belief that her hostages would instinctively move to protect her if the situation demanded it.

Taylor sighed again.

If that assumption turned out to be wrong, then the entire situation could play out very differently.

She slipped her backpack from her shoulders and set it down carefully beside the wall, the fabric sagging slightly as it settled against the concrete. Without the extra weight pulling at her back, she rolled her shoulders once, loosening the tension from the previous loop.

Her heart was already beating faster.

She gave herself a small nod, more out of habit than confidence, and stepped toward the corner before breaking into a sprint.

The sudden burst of movement carried her around the building before anyone on the other side had time to react. One moment the street was empty in front of her, and the next Bakuda stood directly ahead, leaning against the streetlight exactly as she had before.

This time, however, Taylor did not slow down.

Bakuda’s head snapped up as the sound of approaching footsteps reached her, surprise appearing across the portion of her face visible beneath the mask. The woman straightened instinctively, the expression quickly replacing the smug amusement that had colored her features during the previous loop.

The people scattered along the sidewalk turned toward the sudden movement, their tear-streaked faces filling with shock as they watched Taylor sprint directly toward the woman they had clearly been trying not to look at.

None of them moved to stop her.

Some simply stared in stunned silence, their expressions caught somewhere between disbelief and desperate hope, and Taylor could not tell which emotion held stronger.

The distance between her and Bakuda disappeared in seconds.

The bomb tinker barely had time to react before Taylor slammed into her with the full force of her momentum, driving her shoulder forward and throwing her entire body into the collision.

Her only regret in that moment was that she could not see the expression on Bakuda’s face when it happened.