Night Shift Calibration

Time to clock in for the graveyard shift. After pounding the garden dirt, I marched back inside and scaled the wooden bookshelf to inspect the chronometer. A brass-rimmed desk clock was ticking louder than a delayed-action warhead. I reached out, braced my boots on a row of paperback spines, and gave the metal winding key in the back a full quarter-turn. It snapped tight with a solid, heavy click. Every second counts when you're hunting scum in the dark. Sector is timed, synced, and under my command.