The freelancers crossed the glowing line that separated the combat zone from the peaceful admittance area where they were being gathered up to go to the Tower. Sara couldn’t see any Dark, or Light. Everyone seemed to be the bodiless clothes of the neutral Hospitalers.

She stood on the rim side and waited to go last. Others had been fighting longer than she had. They deserved their place. and she was relatively safe. The Dark were only allowed at the gate in the wall. If the fighting hadn’t knocked part of the roof down, the pursuit would never have reached the second position.

She wondered if they would change their ways after running into a wall of firepower and be more cautious. She doubted it. After all, how many times did freelancers join together more than a handful at a time?

Nick had really performed a logistical feat moving his small army into the inner hub because the Starting Point Rail System wouldn’t carry all of them together. Then gathering everyone up just outside Starting Point so they could march across the Dark City. She had no doubt they killed a variety of monsters on their march.

She took one last look around. It was time for her to go. Everyone else were already doing what they had to do to live again. It was her turn.

She whispered, “Good luck,” in case the statue of Superman was listening. Then she crossed the line.

The Tower filled her vision. It looked like a giant piece of rebar sticking out of the ground. Light from each shot heading into the air ran up the inside of the spun metal. Small bumps dotted the sides of the building.

It looked less like a building than a giant cannon.

“Miss Flowers?,” said a man in a gray suit. “I’m Libro. I’m here to help you with your paperwork, and temporal destination. Would you come with me?”

“I suppose,” said Sara. “What happens here?”

“We turn in the weapons you took on your orientation, fill out the paperwork, and let you decide when you want to go back,” said Libro. He gestured for her to follow him. “Then we send you back.”

“I decide when I go back?,” asked Sara. She looked around as they crossed what looked like an airport tarmac to the base of the tower.

“Within reason,” said Libro. “You might not be able to go back to your current

timeline because of damage to your body. After all, you did die. That’s how you wound up here.”

“But if I am not too damaged, I can go back to whenever I died?,” asked Sara.

“Approximately,” said Libro. He led Sara into an office space full of cubicles and people. He gestured at an private counter marked WEAPON TURN IN. A team of women marked the weapons that had already been turned in, had freelancers sign for what they turned in, and placed each weapon in a case and put it in a vault marked IMAGINARY WEAPON STORAGE.

Sara got in line behind a man in a brown jacket and pants. She watched as he handed over two bracelets, signed for them and then walked away. The bracelets went into a box, then the vault.

She stepped up to the counter next. The woman behind the counter nodded before asking for her name.

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“Sara Flowers,” said Sara.

“We have a lion sword and glove, a blaster, a sonic screwdriver, a ring of power, and twelve talismans listed for you,” said the counter woman.

“The screwdriver blew up, and I only have ten of the twelve talismans,” said Sara. “I lost two of them getting here.”

That was close enough to the truth not to be a lie. Could they tell when she was lying?

“The screwdriver blew up?,” said the counter woman.

“I got into a fight with crabs and took fire,” said Sara. “The screwdriver was in my pocket, and was shot when I was shot.”

“The two missing talismans?,” asked the counter woman.

“I lost one in the outer rim outside Voit’s tower,” said Sara. “The other I lost on the other side of the central wall somewhere.”

“Hand in what you have,” said the counter woman. “We might have to break the set up now. That’s above my pay grade.”

Sara handed over the pistol first, then the sword and its holder. She dumped the talismans in the gauntlet out on the counter. She dug the others out of her clothes and boots to hand them over. She pulled the ring off her finger and put it on top of the pile. The worker verified each weapon with a reader before another woman could take them away to be stored again.

“Step to the left for verification, and then we’re going to need you to sign the papers for the weapon return,” said the counter woman. She gestured at a spot marked on the floor. Sara did as she was told. A green light played over her body, then a chime sounded.

“All right,” said the counter woman. “Sign here.”

She put a ledger on the counter. She indicated the first clear space for Sara to sign her name. The freelancer did so, glad to be done with the process.

“All right,” said Libro. “Let’s get the rest of the paperwork filled out, then we can get you sent upstairs.”

He indicated that Sara should follow him to a cubicle in the middle of the crowd. She saw some of her comrades from Nick’s Army undergoing the same thing she was. They didn’t look happy. She supposed it was a good idea to disarm them before giving them a stack of paperwork as tall as a Scooby sandwich.

She sat down in the indicated chair. Libro pulled a stack of paper out of a filing cabinet and handed it over. The top page had LIFE SO FAR across the top of it in a banner.

“Go ahead and read it,” said Libro. “There are spaces for you to sign to make sure that you understand what happened and why.”

Sara went through the pages, piece by piece. She saw notes to other places, but couldn’t find them. Everything looked complete up until her cause of death as attempted murder.

“Someone tried to kill me?,” Sara asked. “Who would want to kill me?”

“I don’t know,” said Libro. “That person is unknown at this point in your personal timeline. If you find out, it will be added to the log. Did everything look all right?”

“I guess,” said Sara. “There were notes to go other places, but they weren’t in the file.”

“Those go to other lives,” said Libro. “If we run your log, we can access their logs where they touch yours. Most living people are only six or seven people from knowing most of the other people on Earth.”

Sara signed off on the paperwork and handed it back. She would have liked to look at the file of her attempted killer. That would be something useful to carry home.

“All right,” said Libro. “We need to talk about insertion. They are trying to pull you back up there. I suggest going to another window and taking a body in that time zone. You current body is damaged.”

“Not an option,” said Sara. “I have to get back to my kids.”

“If you go back to your current body, you might not be able to take care of your children,” said Libro. “Obviously we can’t guarantee a recovery. You might go back, die again, and have to fight your way back to my desk.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” said Sara. “What do I have to do?”

“Sign off on the request,” said Libro. “I’ll take you to the central chamber and have you put back in your current body. Good luck, Miss Flowers.”

He handed Sara another sheet of paper. He put that in another file when he got it back with her signature. He gestured for her to follow him to a tube that looked like an elevator in the center of the office space. He gestured for her to enter the chamber.

“Good luck,” Libro said, waving a hand. He pressed the button next to the doors. They slammed together and Sara blasted upwards so fast that she was pushed against the floor by the pressure. She closed her eyes.