At exactly 0500, Irma's alarm buzzed.

She didn't catapult awake. She didn't yell HOOZYWUT or windmill her arms.

Today, her face slowly twisted into a mask of anguish, torment, and regret, and she started to cry.

Why was everything…

No.

Why was SHE so fucked up?

She rolled onto her side, squeezing her knees to her chest, her leather gear creaking.

This… This fucking shit! Who the fuck- She wasn't putting this on herself!

She snorted back wads of snot, hurling the guns across the room, ripped off the gloves. She struggled a bit with the boots.

She got stuck for a couple minutes in all the goddamned straps of the body harness. It was okay, having one arm across your face and one leg stuck behind your head didn't interrupt angry slobbering crying time too much.

She sat in the shower for a long time, quietly sobbing under the hot water beating down.

The only thing that splattered on the wall today was her snot, when she blew her nose, and then she cried a little more.

She put on her frumpy sweater, her shapeless long skirt. Thick woolen socks and heavy clomping shoes.

She sipped her tar-black coffee, and grimaced. Today it was utterly rancid in her mouth.

"Oah maybee it's moy mowf whut's rayncid… Loik thuh rayist uv me."

She sobbed a bit more, curled up in the corner, where nobody could see her through her big window.

No aerobics.
No prancing.
No going to work. There would be no tough guy or vegas loony. There never was, ever again.

The plastic bitches they messed up? Always the same. Almost unreal.

The two crazies, that woke her up to her true screwed up self? Broke her out of her endless cycle… By putting her in a new one? They were loopers. Like she was, now.

They were all really loopy.

She sniffed, laughed just a little, then sighed bitterly.

There was only one man who knew how to make her feel better.

And he wouldn't remember her.

He wouldn't remember anything.

She took a deep, shaky breath, started to pull herself up.

She slumped again, looking forelorn at the tangled leather in the corner.

… No. Today… Today he would meet Irma.

–

When Midnight made October 24th into October 25th, The Man With No Face And No Name had already settled into his chair by the window, and slipped into the state between awake and asleep.

They had chosen him because of his special gifts.

He could both Loop, and not Loop.

And because of what he had done to that bus of nuns, that time he hit his head.

When he bumped his head again… Suddenly he realized what he had done.

And in his half-catatonic state, he stumbled to the mental institution, carrying the three pretty little heads that were still intact.

Severed neatly, but their faces were not faces of anguish.

Two of the faces were of blissful contentment, although a little embarrassed.

Mother Superior had died having an AMAZING orgasm, if her expression was to be believed.

Which didn't match with the unmitigated horror they found in the bus, where the shredded remains of their three bodies were mixed with twelve others.

He didn't argue at all when they locked him up.

The Man In The Suit had come to visit, seven years later, early on the 24th of October.

The Man Who Would Have No Face was drawn and haggard. Seven years of tormenting yourself would do that.

The Man In The Suit sat down. He hadn't come in. He was just… There, in the room.

The massive locks hadn't opened, the guards with the snare sticks hadn't snatched him like Animal Control with a rabid dog, he wasn't belted down to the rolling gurney.

Nothing happened. The Man In The Suit wasn't there.

And then he was.

"Huh. Lucky number seven, Kid."

The Man Who Would Be Faceless blinked, slowly swiveling his head to look at The Man In The Suit as he sat down on the concrete post.

He didn't have furniture. He had extensions of the concrete floor to sit on, rest on, eat meals off of at gunpoint, his trays on a long stick with two guards holding the other end, all his utensils connected by heavy cables.

And now The Man In A Suit was there, popping open a briefcase, unloading folders filled with pictures and documents.

A glance of a slipped photo showed the indecent expression on Mother Superior's severed head. Soon-To-Be-Faceless Man's stomach curdled and he looked away.

"Hell of a thing, wasn't it. You were in that bus five minutes. There was enough of a mess… You'd had have to been in there for months, wouldn't you say…? Maybe… Years…?"

"You know that's…"

"Not possible? Kid, how'd I get in your cell?"

He had no response for that.

"So yeah, you got your head rocked. Happens to the best of us. But kid, here's the thing.

"When you get caught in a loop… Well. Lots of people start… Doing things. Because there's no CONSEQUENCES, ya see? Everything, bam, reset. Start over. Everything… Null. So… People… Start experimenting. And… It can get pretty wild."

The kid blinked a few more times, shaking things around in his head.

"Look, I'll get to the point. We want you to do a job or two for us. You got some potential in that noggin a'yours, the labcoat guys say.

"Priority one job goes like this. You go to a certain apartment, you sit in a certain chair, you watch an alleyway. When we sort out what the fuck's goin' on and fix it… Well. You'll watch that alleyway from midnight to midnight, all of October 25th. If nothing happens, it means we won. You get up, and leave. There's a bus ticket, you go catch a bus, and you're free to go."

"I'm not- I can't be with…"

"Normal people, kid? Trust me. Mosta the loopers, they was normal once, too. Gettin' looped, it… Well. Does things to ya."

"I did horrible-"

The man on the suit pulled out the photo of Mother Superior, considered it. "If it was so horrible… Well. She didn't mind it at all, looks like."

He tossed the photo down, where The Man Who Has Too Long A Name could see the expression of orgasmic bliss on the Nun's face.

"Lissen. We got… We got certain assets in play, but they're… Well. They're a real handful. They need…" He made indecisive noises, gestured randomly. "… Special treatment. You know. They- Heh. They sure as hell ain't NORMAL assets, I'll tell ya that."

Things… Things that didn't fit, in his nightmares. They started to shift.

"… What do I do…?"

"Dat's tha best part. You sit on your ass and do nothing. If we get to have an October 26th? You walk out and go free."

The Man Who Would Have No Face squinted at The Man In The Suit. "And on the October 25ths that DON'T turn into the 26th…?"

"Dat's where youse come in. As far as you'll ever know, those days do. Not. Happen. And what doesn't happen in those days, all gets walled up and washed away. Never happened, never existed, no tears no remorse."

"I'd re-"

"No you won't. Because you ain't onea dem. But dey'll remember, an get back on an… Ennnh… Even Keel is pushin' it wit dese dames, but… Y'know."

"So…"

"You're their outlet. And they're gonna demand the BEST."

"Because of… What they're going to want to do to me."

The Man In The Suit started laughing. "Hah! Hah, noooo, no no. Because of what dey, will want you, to do to THEM."

He tapped the photo of the nun, and the two others.

"Looks like you might be just what they want. After ya meet the two docs… I'm sure they'll have you up to speed in a snap."

"… Okay. When do we-"

"Right now." The Man In The Suit pinched his wristwatch. "Hit 'em."

There was a blue-white flash. The Man Without A Name was on his feet, face shaven, hair short, wearing green pants and shirt, spattered with blood."Ohgodohgodohgodwhatthefuckshejustcameapartinmyhands-"

"Again."

Another blue flash. The Man With No Name was a little bit on fire this time and missing his left arm below his elbow, screaming-

"Almost dere, an' give 'em a bite plate dis time, he was useless when he bit his tongue off."

One last flash, and The Man With No Name And No Face appeared. He wore a black suit over a black shirt with a black tie. He wore black shoes and black socks, black gloves, and a perfectly smooth black fabric covered his entire head. His chin, nose and ears made shapes under the snug fit, but for all intents and purposes, he no longer had a face.

"Thank you for your offer, sir. I believe I will accept."

"Youse remember your trainin'?"

He nodded. "I know how to-"

"No, I mean do you REMEMBER it?" The Man In The Suit demanded, thumping his finger on the table.

"Good. You know what to do. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir." The Man With No Face paused at the door. "Would you like the lights off, sir?"

"Yes. Thank you. Please." The massive vault doors swung open, and the Man With No Face stepped out. The cell went dark as The Man In The Suit pulled a gun from his briefcase, shaking his head. "I hate this part."

There was a single gunshot, and blood and brains splattered across the door and wall. The Man With No Face didn't flinch or look back.

He had some special ladies that needed special care.