The Perfect Run

A few minutes before the shootout, Ryan was sitting behind Vulcan inside her mech, both partners in crime observing Dynamis’ HQ through a computer screen. The tower looked like some game’s final dungeon, with increasingly dangerous enemies guarding each floor with the boss at the very top. It almost made Ryan wish for a suicide run, but that would be for another time.

His suit awaited him.

“Should you be drinking while driving?” the courier asked Vulcan, who just finished a bottle of vodka.

“I haven’t taken enough to feel any effects,” she replied, opening a hidden compartment and putting the empty bottle there. Ryan noticed a few other bottles inside, including a Bordeaux wine and a few other delicacies. Vulcan immediately rose up further in the courier’s esteem for showing such exquisite tastes.

“You have a minibar?”

“I’m a Genius,” she replied with a smirk. “Maybe I will put one in your power armor when I get around to making it. I’m thinking of something sleek, optimized for close combat.”

“I would prefer a Megazord honestly.” Maybe it could have a panda-themed animal mode?

“From those Japanese-American shows?” She made a disdainful face. “They’re campy as hell!”

“Hey, don’t spit on my childhood,” Ryan complained, before squinting. “Wait, you watched them too?”

“I looked into many sci-fi TV series for inspiration,” Vulcan admitted with a look of brief embarrassment, before changing the subject. “Anyway, I finished scanning the area, and we’re good.”

“So we’re going in?”

Vulcan looked over her shoulder, with Ryan leaning on her back due to the cockpit’s lack of space.

That may have come out a bit dirty.

“I studied their defenses,” Vulcan told him before focusing back on the screen. “Been itching to test my stealth system on Dynamis, but never got the occasion. I still can’t believe Livia gave her blessing, especially if she doesn’t know how it will end.”

“She gave her blessing because she doesn’t know,” Ryan pointed out. The mafia princess seemed as desperate as he was for new and unexpected entertainment. “Thanks for helping.”

“I wouldn’t try that if Alphonse Manada was in town, even for your pretty face,” Vulcan admitted. “That ruthless mofo is everything his brother isn’t. Even without him nearby, we have minutes before they send heavy hitters after us, after which we’re toast. Grab the suit and don’t play around.”

“Not even a little?”

“Don’t play around, Ryan,” Vulcan replied firmly, pointing at the building right next to Dynamis' HQ, namely the Il Migliore tower. “Their best can take on our best, and it’s their territory. They will move to reinforce the strategic areas like the labs once the alarm is sounded, but confusion will only buy us so much time. Now hold on to me.”

Ryan sighed but consoled himself with the thought of finally getting a cashmere wool suit.

In preparation for this fateful moment, the courier had left most of his clothes behind at Jamie’s place, except for his pants, shirt, mask and hat. The only thing he carried with him was the plushie, too dangerous to be left without supervision; Vulcan put it in a compartment inside the mech, sealing its evil away.

Vulcan had her mech fly off its current spot and above New Rome, shrouding its metal hide with some kind of camouflage. It might trick Dynamis’ radars and drone defenses, at least until impact.

Vulcan’s mech quickly accelerated, the g-force increasing until Ryan had no choice but to hold on to the pilot to avoid being thrown backward. He could see Dynamis’ building get closer and closer on the computer screen, wing-shaped drones flying around the perimeter. The combination of speed, low altitude, and stealth hid the power armor from their gaze.

And then, the mech hit the building like a missile, shattering the twentieth floor’s windows and most of its ceiling. Vulcan powered through furniture, assembly lines, and wardrobes before finally stopping.

“Go, go, go!” Vulcan shouted at Ryan while the cockpit opened, the courier immediately emerging from the mech.

Dynamis’ wool factory was a sanitized floor lacking anything resembling warmth or color, with mechanical arms replacing humans as part of the assembly line. Only a few desks oversaw the production lines, and since they each housed a computer, they probably belonged to engineers. Two elevators and stairways linked the floor to the rest of the building south of the duo’s current position.

the windows outside and security cameras immediately focusing on the

it any attention. A Gregorian song in his head drowned all noise outside, his attention entirely focused on something straight out

near his position, each one a different color. Among them was a purple-dyed

suit had been waiting for

a sight, and Ryan was no exception. He carefully touched this luxury cloth with his bare hands, feeling the texture, the warmth, the weight of the thousand euros spent on making this vision of heaven. He took this snazzy

that existence wasn’t meaningless. All the conflicts in mankind’s history

tense and impatient. The machine had to lower itself not to hit the ceiling. “What the

had to suppress tears of joy. “This… this is the meaning

to

the two elevators, escorting Blackthorn. The Dynamis executive finished adjusting

Miss. Sharif,” Enrique Manada said, always dryly polite. “If you wished to make a

groups facing each other in a tense standoff. “I don’t take appointments,” the Genius declared, trying

wit.

attack is bound to fail,” Enrique said with icy confidence. “The labs are secure, Don Hector is in another location, and our heroes will be there any minute.

Vulcan’s mech. “We just

something for the first time in the conversation. “Wait, what do you mean

thumb at his

“Good.”

kept only his mask, hat

at his crotch, by far his most powerful weapon. “Behind me, sir, he’s going to flash you!” a soldier said, moving in front of

to blast him to death at a moment’s notice. He slowly put on the suit, pants last, ignoring the pervading tension in the room. No one dared interrupt him, his sheer moxie and the absurdity of the situation commanding everyone’s

“Better.”

the

Slowly.

Methodically.

Lovingly.

his waist. The suit’s colors mixed perfectly with his mask and

“Perfect.”

a moment, nobody

at the suit, then at Vulcan, and finally at his men; they rolled their

war… for a suit…” Enrique seemed unable to make a full sentence, interrupting himself whenever he said more than five words. He kept raising and lowering his hand as if trying to point out something, but unable to finish his action. “Not for the Elixirs... or Don Hector... but for

turned as stiff and

turned to Enrique, keeping his rifle

this has to be

bug the hell out, Quicksave,” Vulcan mused out

Enrique shook his head, still unable to regain his composure. “I’m

said, “and here I thought you

action. The rose on his business suit grew to the size of a small cannon and fired a volley of sharp thorns at Quicksave, who

The power armor

Enrique ordered while grabbing a Beretta hidden inside his suit, a hint of anger breaking through his composure. His rose fell off his costume and started growing to colossal size, turning into an abomination of thorny

situation had devolved into

while furious vines moved to surround him. “Drop

pencils and a suit’s sketch on the desk. “I’ve got a bottle of Roundup,

time,” Enrique snarled, his pride wounded. “You think this is

directions, leaping over the desk and grabbing the pencils while