The Perfect Run

Il Migliore’s HQ, the Optimates Tower, was the most luxurious place Ryan had ever seen.

Most of Dynamis’ properties were located northeast of the city, on the far opposite of Rust Town. Unlike its neighbor though, this district catered to the supreme elite of New Rome. Il Migliore’s tower was a seventy-floor-tall building, half penthouse skyscraper, half luxury hotel. The lower portion was bulkier than the top, housing gardens, pool balconies, and even helipad areas, while the upper floors belonged to offices. The building clearly took cues after the Art Deco movement, with its mix of luxurious, shiny splendor and modern geometric design.

Ryan himself had a meeting on floor sixty-three, sitting in an expansively decorated waiting room. A thirty-something secretary worked behind a desk on her computer, while another familiar face waited in another chair, near an office’s closed doors.

Through the room’s window, Ryan could see the actual Dynamis HQ nearby, a reinforced glass spire that oversaw the entire city; even the Il Migliore building couldn’t hold a candle to it in size, lacking at least twenty floors compared to its big brother. How fitting that the company’s fortress overlooked both New Rome and its superheroes’ base.

On a closer look though, Dynamis’ HQ reminded Ryan of those futuristic arcology designs, buildings meant to be entirely self-sufficient. He noticed a few greenhouses and gardens on some of the floors, even water reservoirs; however, past a certain point, something in the glass’ composition prevented the Genome from seeing through it. How suspicious.

Unlike downtown, both buildings were protected by the elite units of the Private Security; people in white armor with laser cannons implanted in the right arm and state of the art weaponry. Unlike their lesser cousins, they were a true military force, well-trained, and ferociously loyal to Dynamis’ interests.

He had heard that they didn’t even accept bribes!

“Excuse me.” Having been restless for an hour, Ryan turned to the other person waiting for an appointment. “Are you… the Panda?”

The poor manbear looked up at him with hope. Compared to the previous loop, the would-be hero seemed less bombastic and more subdued. “You know me?”

“Of course I know you! You’re the Panda! The very last of them!” Ryan said, pumping his fist for added effect. “When I see you riding your bicycle of justice, I always get goosebumps!”

“Thanks!” the hero replied, suddenly a lot more cheerful. He must be glad to have at least one ‘fan’ in the world. “I’m really trying to live up to my legacy, and make them trendy again.”

“But what is a solo hero doing here, in this bastion of corporate superheroism?”

“The Panda… the struggles on his own,” he admitted. “I’m really trying to make a name as a solo hero, but it’s hard. None of the villains even want to fight me in public, because I’m simply too powerful for them.”

“I’m sure you are,” Ryan replied with heavy sarcasm, which the completely missed.

“It’s so frustrating!” he said. “I can’t make it to the news without some big awesome duel, you know? Really, with great power comes great isolation.”

He sounded like he believed it too.

“Mr. Romano?” Ryan’s head perked up, as the secretary called his name. “Mr. Manada will receive you.”

Finally! “Good luck with the interview,” the told Ryan, as the courier moved towards the office’s doors. “What’s your name?”

“Quicksave!” Ryan replied with a thumb up. “I’m immortal, but don’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t!”

as big as a house, but whose space was mostly occupied by flowers. Geraniums, roses bushes, chrysanths, muguet, dozens of various species of plants were on display. The office even included a

New Rome through a full window. If he wasn't the supreme authority of a superhero team, Ryan would have mistaken his host for a supervillain. The man wore an expensive tuxedo suit with a black rose on the left side, carried white gloves, and hid his face behind some kind of stylized white helmet reminding Ryan of the pre-war Daft Punk

could only applaud his

Il Migliore program.” The man shook Ryan’s hand, his voice pleasant to hear yet firm. He smelled like

as he noticed the matter making

a wooden chair and inviting him to sit down. “We have our own production program at Dynamis since we cannot import it from Asia. The production cost is horrendous, but you cannot put a price

the man, his eyes fixed on his clothes. He wanted a suit

fingers. “But few make it to my office. I believe in personal recommendations, Mr.

of all people,

have a good feeling about you, especially after you forewarned her about our latest prisoner. Which makes me

feeling,” Ryan

trouble with the Private Security lately, and several members tasked with

among the Private Security bothered him though.

would look into

case, I must thank you for coming here. I am certain our competition made you an offer, knowing Vulcan’s rivalry with Wyvern, and your trust in us won’t go unrewarded.” Enrique observed Ryan closely.

I was young, I always

“An ad?”

recognizable icon of consumerism, with my face plastered on

uh,” Enrique replied, seemingly

human condition and become a packaged product. That has always

Enrique nodded,

Ryan shrugged. “Greed?”

profile tells

I thought it would be fun to try being a superhero, and I promised someone that I would kick the Meta out of the city as a personal

“although not as much as the Augusti. Who is this person you owe

in Rust Town named Paulie. He probably won’t even remember me

a very high development potential according to our research team. Your skills with weapons are impressive, as the security check-up can attest to. I didn’t even know one could fit so many

see it

presented Ryan with a small pile of paper. “The sixteen pages long index of collateral damage complaints

bothered Ryan greatly. “Only sixteen

“You expected more, perhaps?”

replied, “I guess I’m too good at

corporate Genome remained completely unfazed. “Plus eighteen demographic then,” he said. “Loose cannons have no place at

defended himself, wounded in his honor, “It’s not my fault if everyone leaves the methods open

one ever accused you of betraying a contract, you have a mercenary

and the courier’s heart