The Perfect Run

“I win,” Ryan said, resting on the flower garden in the outer wall’s shadow.

“Again?” Geist complained, the ghost overseeing the game with a doubtful expression. Apparently, his phantom skull of a face could squint. “It’s impossible. How can I keep losing?”

Well, it was hard to catch someone capable of stopping time.

In the end, the trip to Bliss island had been a disappointment. Every time Ryan tried to ‘visit’ a restricted area beyond the walls and the gardens, armored guards or Geist kindly asked him to turn back. Though he memorized the patrols and turrets’ locations, the courier didn’t see any way to get inside the facility without starting a fight and ending the current run.

Eventually, he just settled into playing games with Geist in the plant garden outside the fortress, waiting for Vulcan and the others to finish their business. The ghost had happily played along, though he wasn’t very good. Ryan had the feeling the suicidal specter appreciated having some company.

“I really need a job as a drug cook,” Ryan told Geist. “Can’t you haunt Cardinal Creep until he gives in?”

“There’s only one cook, and it’s Ceres,” Geist shrugged. “The rest of the facility supports her work, and nothing else.”

Ryan figured as much. Narcinia’s power made it easy for her to create new plants to harvest as raw material. Even this entire garden, capable of thriving in a toxic island, was probably her work. “So if she retires, no more Bliss?”

“Sort of,” Geist replied. “Father Torque has enough flower strains to continue the work even if she’s gone, though the quality will take a hit.”

“You shouldn’t say that out loud.” Ryan didn’t even move an inch, as Mortimer leaned over his shoulder, having phased out of the ground. “Walls have ears.”

“Do you want to play?” the courier casually asked the bodyguard. “It’s funnier when there are three players, and the guards are humorless killjoys.”

“You are no fun, no fun at all,” the hitman said, disappointed that he couldn’t startle Ryan no matter how hard he tried.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Geist asked, telekinetically crafting a chair out of nearby stones and dirt.

“Sparrow asked me to check on him,” Mortimer said, glancing at Ryan while sitting on the makeshift chair. “She was worried he might start a forest fire or something.”

“That’s demeaning,” Ryan said. “Sometimes I settle for nuclear winters.”

“They make me want to glow in the dark,” the hitman replied, looking at the game. “What are you playing?”

Ryan showed Mortimer bird talus bones. The hitman glanced at the bones, then at Casper the Ghost. “Knucklebones, really?”

“It’s to stick with the ghost theme,” the courier replied. “Want to play? It’s an old variant, a pure game of luck.”

Mortimer shrugged and grabbed some of the bones. “We should play cards next,” he said.

“Or use a Ouija board,” Ryan suggested, glancing at Casper. “Should be easy.”

“How does it even work?” Mortimer asked Geist, as he threw the bones with the force of his mind. “You need to settle some unfinished business before moving on?”

“Bite me,” Casper the Ghost explained. “I drank a Yellow Elixir on Last Easter, but it didn’t come with a manual. Hell, I thought I didn’t get any power until Mechron’s nanoplague turned my body to dust. I got the briefest glimpse of an afterlife, and then I was yanked back to that dumpster and bound to my mortal remains.”

“And you can’t leave the island?” Mortimer asked, throwing his bones on the ground. “Mortimer likes haunted houses. I could bury you in my garden.”

“I can’t go far, no,” Geist lamented. “My remains are all over the place now, so good luck putting it back together. Even Cancel only goes as far as preventing me from manifesting, and Pluto's power needs someone to be alive in the first place.”

If you asked Ryan, besides that geographic limitation, Casper had hit the jackpot as far as Yellow Elixirs went. Unlimited ectoplasmic powers plus immortality? That was a life to die for! Ryan laughed at his own mental joke, much to the others’ confusion.

end,” Geist said before throwing more bones on the ground. It would explain

people there,” the hitman said. “And to the

reached any of those places, and I tried a lot,” Ryan said, winning another Knucklebones

and he sounded like he believed it too. “He thinks a powerful psychotropic like Bliss could replicate the effect and allow

overdoses on Bliss though,” Ryan said. “Especially the sterility thing. Though I guess it

Geist asked, a

research purposes only. “Among other side-effects, Bliss acts as a long-term endocrine disruptor, working on a genetic level. Genomes aren’t

ask Poor Ol’ Mortimer, it’s just Dynamis propaganda. They can’t make a better product so they denigrate

at the hitman, squinted, and then stopped

the courier had grabbed

like Laurence Fishburne's. Same receding hairline, same soft features,

secret identity!” Mortimer complained while grabbing back his skull

extremely disappointed. He must have been in his early forties at worst! “You’re thirty years early

is old inside,” the hitman replied, putting back the mask. “He’s an old

emo teen's soul in

mock the hitman further, his phone rang inside his coat. The courier grabbed it but didn’t recognize the number. “Quicksave Deliveries, what can I

“Riri?”

Len had

that your goomah?” Mortimer asked mockingly, still sore about the mask part. “Vulcan won’t

away, and they bounced off the cackling hitman’s mask. Maybe his intangibility only worked through inorganic

the Chronoradio,” Len said. Her voice was tense, alarmed, and Ryan could hear the children talking

the outer wall. “You know Vulcan can probably record our conversations?

no mood for jokes, “My radars picked tremors coming from Rust Town, and multiple flying objects

Ryan wasn’t sure if this was good or

for details, someone else called

in a minute,” Ryan said, before switching calls. “Quicksave Deliveries, what can I do for

owe me a suit,

Blackthorn.

hope you appreciate, that

now, will be on your head,” Ryan said

“You think this is-”

the

this isn’t your first rodeo,

department for your speeches, but I would fire them if I were you.” Though Ryan was flattered to have earned himself an archenemy. “Have you called to exchange threats? Perhaps challenge me to a

old-fashioned,” the corporate mastermind replied, considering his next words. “In truth, I wanted to

was a new

for so long, that we are prey. You’re wrong. We simply know

not sure

man,” Enrique explained. “He believes we can have a ‘detente’ with your boss, but my brother and I know better. You Augusti aren’t a state or corporation we can coexist with. You are feudal warlords who only understand strength. And after you

ominous. “Is this about the suit? Or

his true feelings poured through the corporate mask. “We have struggled for years to rebuild a functioning society. Now we are at a crossroads, with two visions facing off. The one that prevails will dictate what new world emerges from the Earth’s ashes...

he had a point... at least in theory. “Take a look at Rust Town,” Ryan replied, completely unimpressed. “See where your high-minded words

concede it, but the difference between my organization and yours is that at least we try.” Another short pause. “Have you heard of

Republic of Rose Island? “That crazy guy who built an oil platform in the middle sea

icy to extremely

at the sea. Black spots appeared in the skies, flying under the sun towards the island. “It was sunk by

up on