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.

bones on the ground. It would explain his casual attitude about the crime family’s secrets, especially if they couldn’t kill him permanently. “Father Torque says he’s close

the hitman said.

places, and I tried a lot,” Ryan said,

too. “He thinks a powerful psychotropic like Bliss could replicate the effect and allow him to receive a divine revelation. Not sure if it will

he overdoses on Bliss though,” Ryan said. “Especially the sterility thing. Though I guess it won’t matter much to a

asked,

on your own product.” Ryan had studied all drugs in-depth... for research purposes only. “Among other side-effects,

but if you ask Poor Ol’ Mortimer, it’s just Dynamis

the hitman, squinted,

the courier had grabbed Mortimer’s

true face looked a lot like Laurence Fishburne's. Same receding hairline, same soft features,

identity!” Mortimer complained

must have been in his early forties at worst! “You’re thirty years early to

the hitman replied, putting

emo teen's soul in an adult’s

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

“Riri?”

Len had

your goomah?” Mortimer asked mockingly, still sore about the mask

they bounced off the

you on the Chronoradio,” Len said. Her voice was tense, alarmed, and Ryan could hear the children talking in the background. “You are on

probably record our

she said, clearly in no mood for jokes, “My radars picked tremors coming from Rust Town,

Meta climbing out of their hole? Ryan wasn’t sure if

details, someone else called him; once again, the courier didn’t recognize the

me, Shortie, I will be back in a minute,” Ryan said, before switching calls. “Quicksave Deliveries, what can I do for you? Pay for four

me

Blackthorn.

hope you

now, will be on your head,” Ryan said at the same time

“You think this is-”

matching with perfect synchronicity. Enrique Manada fell silent on the other side of the line; the courier briefly wondered if he had been

first rodeo, Romano, but this will be

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

next words. “In truth, I wanted to

a new one.

so long, that we are prey. You’re wrong. We simply know that war is bad for business. War has no winners,

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

was ominous. “Is this about the suit? Or revenge for

goes beyond that.” Blackthorn’s composure broke slightly, and 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...

in theory. “Take a look at Rust Town,”

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

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

switching from icy to extremely pleased. “I assume you also remember what happened

flying under the sun towards the island. “It was sunk by the

hung up