The Perfect Run

Chapter 4

It was May 10th, 2020 for the first time, and Ryan hadn’t blown up something yet.

Frankly, this surprised him. Seventy-two hours were almost a hard cap for him for non-destructive behavior; he didn’t always cause it, he just had a knack for getting into exciting situations. Ryan wasn’t drawn to adventure. Adventure was drawn to him, and he couldn’t wait for a new adrenaline rush.

Driving at night up north, the courier and his Plymouth left the wealthy districts for more industrial ones. Hotels and casinos slowly vanished, replaced with railroad stations, grey buildings, taxi centrals, and other businesses. According to the map, they should reach the old harbor in no time.

“Existence is subjective.”

“Mmm?” Ryan asked, turning his head to the passenger to his right. He had to lower himself in the car, to avoid reaching the roof with his head.

“Your question, about whether I exist if you can roll back time,” Zanbato continued. The man had put crates full of chemicals at the car’s back, then insisted on chaperoning Quicksave during his first job for ‘the family.’ Both were supposed to protect a shipment from attack and beat up the Meta if they dared to interrupt it. “We can never know we exist, so there is no objective truth to existence.”

“You’re still thinking it over?” Ryan asked, a bit surprised. He said so much nonsense in such a short time, that people usually forgot what he said halfway through.

“Yes. It’s disturbing.”

“Eh, you get used to the uncertainty.” Better not tell him the truth.

The sound of cars gave way to that of waves crashing on the shore, and the faint rustle of the evening wind. The city’s old harbor seemed rather derelict, rusting buildings standing next to abandoned waterfront warehouses. The remains of a massive supertanker overlooked the sea, having crashed against a stony beach; the captain must have been drunk when it happened. If humans lived in the area, Ryan didn’t notice any.

They had entered the Poor Zone.

The quality of the air also drastically declined, to the point that Ryan felt like he was kissing a professional smoker; the stink even overwhelmed the smell of the sea. He blamed it on the proximity of a nuclear power plant, industrial facilities, and the famous Rust Town further north. “Somebody call Greenpeace,” Ryan complained. “They can’t all be dead.”

“Dynamis uses knockoff Genomes to keep the pollution in Rust Town,” Zanbato replied as they drove towards the stony beach. “But they don't do much to protect this area.”

“Is this what remains of Naples’ old port?” Ryan asked, curious. He had always been interested in pre-war facilities, especially since most cities had been transformed into nice, aesthetic craters.

“Yeah. Dynamis is building new docks in the south for freighters.” Zanbato pointed at a spot at the waterfront. “We can stop there.”

Ryan parked the car between two warehouses, then stepped down alongside his chaperone. A group waited for them near the remains of a pier, next to a huge pile of crates and a minivan.

The leader, and the youngest, was an African-Italian barely above eighteen, yet taller than Ryan himself. Physically fit, he kept his hair short and dressed fashionably; he had invested his drug money on a stylized sweater, boots, and refined pants. He really gave off a cultured middle-class vibe, even if he was busy smoking a joint as the duo showed up.

The rest… well, they were grunts with submachine guns, nothing special. Cannon fodder with a short life expectancy, and even shorter opportunities for career advancement, whom Ryan could identify on sight nowadays. The courier nicknamed them Grunt 1, Grunt 2, and Gruntie.

“Finally!” the leader complained upon seeing the two Genomes arrive, “What took you so long? You were supposed to arrive first! We’re in the open!”

“Sorry Luigi,” Zanbato replied, much calmer. “Traffic delayed us.”

“Hey, Luigi!” Ryan said with his best accent ever. “It’s-a-me, Mario!”

Luigi frowned, trying to make the connection, and failing. “I don’t get it.”

“I think it’s video game stuff,” Gruntie said, the other mooks shrugging their shoulders.

Ryan sighed. “It’s exhausting,” he complained, “to be an island of culture amidst a sea of ignorance.”

“Luigi, this is Quicksave, the new muscle I told you about,” Zanbato made the introductions. “Quicksave, this is Luigi, alias Crypto. He’s our supply guy.”

“You have a superpower too?” Ryan asked, faking astonishment. Could the only guy without a weapon be special?

“Yeah, I have a bullshit filter,” Luigi replied, tossing his joint into the sea to share with the fish. “Who’s your favorite Genome?”

don’t—” A foreign force took over Ryan’s mind,

a little peeved. “You like that

couldn’t stop himself. “Also, I’m pretty hetero, but if Leo Hargraves sneaked into my room at night, I would still

don’t want the details,” Luigi said, the effect lifted from Ryan’s mind. “See? Once you start talking, you can’t lie to

wagging a finger at Luigi, “You’re going to ask me the wrong question, and you won’t like

his time stop was one thing, but Ryan always kept quiet about his save point. Someday, someone smart might figure out a way around his

you bring this guy instead of Sphere?” Luigi complained to

replied. “And you have five

the Meta,” his fellow crook replied,

can always argue about security after the

off the Private Security

asked, curious.

they make a show of hitting our operations from time to time, but they’re too scared of us to try

from Ryan’s car. “It’s like the Cold War. But we’re close to Rust Town and the Meta already hit delivery runs like

the trunk of

gauntlets with a hydraulic piston-powered ram built upon them. The mechanism pushed the ram

off. “I call them

then at Zanbato. “Zan, I don’t know on which planet

madness is a pit,” Ryan replied cheerfully, hands on his waist. “They’re

like him,” Zanbato told Luigi, as the other grunts helped add their crates to

people, period.” Luigi shrugged, raising his sweater’s sleeve to reveal a watch.

pier grew agitated, the trio looking over the edge. Three strange, spherical bathyspheres emerged from the waves, each large enough to house many within their confines. The machines lacked any form of cables, unlike old bathysphere models, and instead seemed powered by small propellers. Their reinforced glass door opened, but Ryan couldn’t see any

instantly recognizing the design.

Luigi shouted as the courier summarily pushed him

his hypothesis. He could recognize her work among thousands; the fondness for an outdated, steampunk technology made viable again; the ruggedness of the design, with beauty sacrificed on the altar of barbaric efficiency; the crimson paint, her favorite, dulled by the

awakened old emotions in Ryan, long-buried beneath the

on the right track. His days of

mission would

avoid having a flashback, turning to Zanbato and pleading

Zanbato replied. “Vulcan’s division takes care of the

own these machines,” Luigi said, dusting his clothes and bringing out a phone. He started typing as the grunts threw the crates in the bathyspheres, perhaps sending a signal to someone else. “Just help us put the supplies inside and I’ll look into it afterward.

Speaking of cold.

seemed to be getting chillier by the second.

crimson light appeared in his hands, the perfect replica of a katana. “They’re here,” he said, the grunts immediately raising their machine

quickly noticed them

geriatric disaster had covered his body in sheets of

a black hazmat suit and gas mask, giving them a

recognized the two.

care of them,” Ryan said, eager to continue his main quest without interruptions. “You can continue with the menial manual labor,

Zanbato asked, a bit concerned.

the supertanker. He almost slipped on the oiled stones, caught himself, and then glanced

mimicked a home run

challenged a matador, the Psycho instantly veered off course, much to

Psycho, while he said so many insults that Ryan’s mind automatically censored him. “You BLEEP, I’m going to BLEEP your skull and BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP with

child friendly. That wasn’t child

grew back your teeth?” Ryan noticed. “You must

a dozen ice daggers at Ryan at the same time. Apparently, he no longer played baseball but throwing

aimed, and threw them. When time resumed, Ghoul’s projectiles were deflected by Ryan’s own; most ice shards hit a

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