I sucked in a breath as my neck popped back into place, blinking at the sudden return of feeling and light. It was as unpleasant as always — prodding needles and tickling hairs.

Snorting softly, I shook myself off. I was fine, and the timer was ticking. I needed to stay on schedule.

Hopping down the last couple of steps, I exited the apartment building’s stairwell. The smell of the city pushed against me, and I gave the darkened streets an absent-minded scan. It was an act of habit more than anything else, but I enjoyed it. Repetition helped track the time.

The sidewalks were empty, and the roads were quiet, with less than a dozen cars in the intersection. I puffed out another breath and started walking.

Skyscrapers surrounded me. The city throbbed with muffled sounds.

It was five in the morning, and the sun wasn’t yet out. Twelve blocks separated me from the metro, and It’d be four blocks before I needed to adjust what I did. I smiled, keeping to my measured pace.

It took fifty-six seconds to cross the first one. I patted down my pockets from under a street lamp, making sure I had what I’d need.

ID, credit card, hearing-aids, cash, and pepper spray. I nodded to myself and continued on.

Three minutes more. I refocused my attention as I crossed onto the fourth block, stepping past the entrance to an alleyway and peering around. I was looking for an ice cream shop. Or at least, for its sign.

There was a faint buzzing feeling in the air, growing steadily in intensity as I neared the corner-most stores. My gaze flickered. Not it. Nope. Also not... ah!

I stopped beneath a pale pink sign: Tim and John’s Ice-cream. Blue lettering.

I made better note of the colors, then turned and jogged across the street. As I stepped onto the opposite sidewalk to continue, I craned my head back towards where I’d left.

My fingers started counting down. Five... four... three... two—

A speedster whipped around the corner of the intersection before I could finish, causing me to wince.

It was a small mistake, but I increased my pace.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

As the woman burst past the sign I’d used to mark my progress, the sources of the muted buzzing made themselves known. A half-dozen unmarked drones flew around the corner, not thirty meters behind her. Their guns rose, and they opened fire as they completed their turns, pelting the ground around the woman with bolts of plasma that turned the sidewalk I’d evacuated into slag.

I rubbed my leg as the drones passed me.

A few seconds more and both parties were gone, vanishing in the opposite direction. None of the shots had hit the speedster, with the event ending as fast as it’d begun.

As fast as it always did.

Eight blocks left to the metro. It’d be another two before I’d need to adjust again. Crossing over the intersection that the group had come from, I waved to the drivers who’d stopped for the conflict, then eyed the road’s reforming tarmac, stepping around where the surface still bubbled with heat.

It didn’t look like the drone’s attacks had broken past the outer surface — the street would be repaired by the time I came back for the night.

I pulled my arms back into a stretch, and the shops blurred in my mind as I went through the motions. I needed to be warmed up before I hit the next block.

Fifty seconds more, and I was just seven blocks from the metro.

I shrugged my shoulders, then pulled out the pepper spray as I crossed over the fifth intersection of the trip. Half a block left until the next event— I hesitated, thinking back, then passed the item into my left hand.

Direct encounters were trickier, but I was pretty sure I could get this one right.

I took a slow, deep breath, then started counting.

Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight —

The high-pitched screech of a car alarm broke through the city’s quiet, followed by a dozen more. Each was closer than the last. I headed steadily towards the noise.

Twenty-three. Twenty-two.

Above me, I could see the flickering of figures on the rooftops: one flier and two agility-based. I ignored the one who tried to wave me down, moving instead into an alleyway as the ground began to shake.

Sixteen. Fifteen.

A car flipped across the road, heaved from where it was parked. I stepped out onto the street again and took in the scene.

Ten. Nine.

There was one strong-man with a bag, pursued by two heroes I couldn’t place. His eyes locked onto me as I appeared, and he turned to run my way.

Six. Five.

He leaped forwards as I counted and pulled at my arm, placing me between himself and the heroes. The bones at my elbow creaked where he gripped them, but I kept my other hand’s grip tight while the heroes yelled.

Two. One.

My left hand came up, and I pepper-sprayed the strong man's face. He dropped me, and I fell to the street. My shoulder crunched as I landed on it.

The man flailed, screaming as the liquid dripped into his eyes. I rolled to the side, dodging a fist that cracked the street where it hit.

Time was up. I was past what I knew.

I scrambled to exit the event as the heroes rushed by me, two from the rooftop coming down to assist. Behind me, the man roared. I took a shaky breath and—

The back of his hand slammed against the side of my head.

The road flipped. The world went dark, and I —

I sucked in a breath as my skull reformed, blinking at the sudden return of feeling and light. It was as unpleasant as always.

I blinked again, then groaned. It was a stupid death; I’d had him beat. Still, I hopped down the last couple of steps and exited my building’s stairwell. The timer was back to ticking — no time to stop.