The city of Kenton is said to be alive.

If there is any measure of truth regarding that statement than more than likely the Ringer clock tower is its heart, and the hourly bangs its heartbeat. A magnificent structure, towering over the the other buildings as a tower well should. If a person were to fall off one of its ledges, he would fall for just enough time to count 3 Mississipies. But a certain figure was certainly not thinking about Mississipies, nor was it thinking about falling to his death, as it hung by just its fingertips and its toes off the side of the tower. And as the wind was blowing in its face and its fingers were starting to go numb it didn't think of how its bones would be crushed like brittle from the speed of the impact to the concrete. No, sir. A more pressing issue was the dark cloud above the tower forming into a whirlwind. Also the ink black tendrils growing inside it and coiling around the building. But that wouldn't last for long. Soon his arms tired, he let go. The fall was fast. The sound of his bones breaking was not heard above the wind's blowing. His name was Trevor and he is quite possibly dead. But that's not as grave as you'd think.