Detective Bob stepped into the vault’s command center, his presence barely acknowledged by the grim faces already inside. The room was filled with cold glow of screens. At the center of it all, a single flashing message pulsed across the largest display:

  "ARTIFACT COMPROMISED."

  The air was thick with tension, the kind that only came when seasoned professionals were faced with something they couldn’t explain.

  A grizzled general, his uniform adorned with medals earned in wars long past, turned to Bob with barely concealed frustration. “Seventy-two hours, Detective. Seventy-two hours, and we have no suspect, no exit, and no explanation.” His voice was steady, but his clenched fists told another story.

  Bob’s sharp eyes flicked across the room. The surveillance logs were clear—no one had entered, no one had left. The vault’s artificial intelligence, programmed with military-grade security and a deadly arsenal, had detected no breach. And yet, the most valuable and dangerous artifact on Earth had vanished.

  He adjusted his coat, his mind already dissecting the impossible. How can something be stolen from a place that no one has entered or left?

  He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s start with the obvious,” he said. “Since no one has left the vault, that means our thief is still here.”

  The general scoffed. “We’ve searched every inch of this place, detective. Walls, floors, air vents, every goddamn crate and panel. There’s no one here.”

  Bob tapped his fingers against his chin. Nothing visible… maybe. His gaze shifted back to the flashing warning on the screen.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “But what if the thief isn’t just hiding?” he mused. “What if they’re reliving the same moments, over and over again?”

  The general frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Bob took a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Think about it. The artifact was stolen seventy-two hours ago. Since then, not a single person has entered or left. In a vault this secure, the AI should have neutralized any intruder before they even got close. And yet, here we are.”

  He turned to face the general fully. “That means the thief knew they had no way out. The only logical move was to buy themselves more time."

  The general’s face darkened. “You’re saying… they’re using the artifact? To rewind time?”

  Bob nodded. “Exactly. Every time they’re about to get caught, they turn back the clock. Maybe by minutes, maybe by hours. They’ve been resetting over and over, refining their approach, waiting for us to make the mistake that finally lets them slip through.”

  The general’s jaw tightened. “Then what’s stopping them from doing this forever? At some point, we’ll be exhausted, we’ll start making errors—hell, they could keep at this until we have to give up.”

  Bob allowed himself the hint of a smirk. “They could… but they won’t. Because no matter how much they loop, they’re on a timer too.”

  The general narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

  Bob’s gaze lingered on the vault’s massive reinforced door, then flicked back to the glowing red warning on the screen.

  “They’ve been careful, resetting whenever they fail. But eventually, they’re going to slip up. Maybe they reset too late and leave behind evidence. Maybe they reset too early and miss the perfect moment to escape. Or maybe…” Bob’s voice dropped slightly, “…they don’t realize that every time they loop, they leave behind something even they can’t erase.”

  The general crossed his arms. “And what’s that?”

  Bob straightened, his mind already racing toward a plan. “Patterns. No matter how many times they reset, certain things stay constant. The artifact might turn back time, but it doesn’t make them omnipotent. And that means, if we pay attention, we’ll find them.”

  A tense silence hung in the air before the general finally spoke.

  “Alright, detective. You say they’re in here, looping over and over again? Then tell me—”

  “How the hell do we catch a thief that can turn back time?”