The Perfect Run

When the bathysphere reached the shore, it stopped at the only place which the Meta-Gang hadn’t opened fire on yet: their own turf.

Ryan walked the streets of Rust Town, people fleeing the neighborhood in panic on the other side of the road. The toxic atmosphere, already terrible, was now saturated with smoke and ashes. Without his mask on, the courier might have coughed every minute. The locals were so terrified of the orbital bombardment, that they trampled on other people while trying to escape.

Another pillar of light hit New Rome’s south, illuminating the skies and causing a mini-earthquake. A building crumbled at Ryan’s left, forcing him to use a time-stop to avoid falling stones and glass shards. He kept going through the chaos until he reached his destination.

The Junkyard.

Before going to this cursed place, the courier had tried to contact, well, everyone. But he received no answer but static when he used his phone. Either the orbital laser had damaged underground cables and other methods of communications… or there was nobody left to answer him.

And when he had looked at Ischia Island from the coast, Ryan only saw flames and smoke.

Ryan had seen the worst hells the post-apocalyptic Earth had to offer across his travels. Irradiated cities, mutant-infested ruins, Monaco, and stuff straight out of H.R. Giger’s worst nightmares. But none had hit him as hard as New Rome’s current state.

The courier had found his bad ending, and it was all his fault.

He shouldn’t have waited for Leo’s Carnival to arrive in town nor left the bunker in the Meta’s hands; even Augustus would have been more responsible than Adam with this technology. The courier might not have pulled the trigger, but he left the gun for anyone to find.

Ryan was alone now, just like when he lost Len the first time. Except for all he knew, she probably died on that island. Died saving him.

He would have to go back in time. He couldn’t continue after this.

All Ryan could do now was clean up the trash.

As he walked inside the Junkyard’s ruins, Ryan started to hear music. An indie-rock tune, sung by none other than Big Fat Adam himself. Only rats watched as the courier made his way through molten trash hills.

In preparation for the confrontation, Ryan had rigged a bomb hidden beneath his suit alongside his other ultimate weapon, to explode on command. It would make him reload should Adam have one last trick up his sleeve. Thankfully, he always kept a dose of Rampage on himself, and so juiced himself up for the big finish. One way or another, this run would end soon.

The scene that awaited the time-traveler at the Junkyard’s center was almost surreal, even by his standards.

A mighty, technologically advanced communication tower had sprung from the ground, close to the bunker’s entrance. The device reminded Ryan of a black obelisk, albeit one covered with antennas pointed at the sky.

And the Meta-Gang were partying in its shadow.

They had cleared the trash around it to form a wide area of ground on which to stand, half the size of a soccer field. After all that happened during this loop, only five of the Psychos had survived to its final conclusion: Big Fat Adam, Frank the Mad, Acid Rain, Sarin, and a fifth soon-to-be-dead maniac. And instead of securing the area, the group had decided to hold a music jam. Acid Rain and Sarin were playing guitars, Frank was at the bass, Adam sang with a mike.

Ryan recognized the fifth one as the Land’s rumored true form, which Jasmine had briefed him on. He could have mistaken the deformed creature for a parody of Area 51 aliens: a misshapen, mouthless humanoid with baby-like short legs and a humongous, hairless head. Unlike its softer grey-skinned cousins, the Psycho seemed almost entirely made of solid dirt, with her eyes glowing yellow.

Holding a rock concert while the city burned? Typical Psychos. But worst of all, Adam looked happy. Blissfully happy, even as smoke and firestorms filled the skies.

This. This scene summed up the Meta-Gang in a nutshell.

“You should have named yourself Big Nero, Whalie,” Ryan taunted them as he revealed himself, laser blade in his right hand and a sharp edge to his wit. “That would have been more appropriate. Though I would have suggested a fiddle.”

The music stopped, as Ryan leaped onto the open field and faced the Meta. The Land immediately reacted by mentally lifting dirt below her, forming a platform to fly on. Perhaps her geokinetic power was inversely proportional to her range, and fusing with an area came at the cost of precision.

“A thief!” Acid Rain snarled, throwing away her guitar and drawing a knife. “I’ll gut him open!”

“Behind me, Mr. President!” Frank the Mad declared, rising from behind the bass and tossing it out of his way. The three meter and a half-tall titan prepared to smash the courier like an egg.

his teammates dead in their

Ryan with amusement. His soft human skin quickly turned

venom. His eyes trailed to the tower behind the group. The Meta must have caused the tremors

who raised her tiny arms in confirmation. “Wow, it’s true what they say. Some folks are just too dumb to

Flatulence,” Ryan replied, stretching his limbs. “You won’t live past the next

One of the last songs the band recorded before the wars. Still, call me surprised. A full blast on that island and you lived? They don’t make doomsday weapons like they

me personally?” Ryan asked. “I’m honored you thought you needed a Mechron-made WMD to take

got Ghoul, then you put Psyshock six feet under the only way he could ever be. Then the

Did you see the name Cesare in the Dynamis’ files? Because it looks like you

useful… until they weren’t.” Adam dropped his mike and adjusted his clothes. “There’s a whole juice lab down there, mate. Advanced

horrible moment never happens

like a hyena pack waiting for the

pointing at the burning city.

said, a savage grin on his face. “This is

tightened around the laser blade. “My

until I take a shot and become healthy again. For a while, I was happy that way. Until I noticed a

their condition, Ryan knew very well that the Elixirs Psychos consumed were just delaying the inevitable.

place because I thought I could find a cure. But now that you killed Psyshock, we can’t fully hijack Mechron’s central mainframe. We could

I did my

up pretty bad then. Because partial control meant we could get our hands on that

courier saw it all. All the sociopathic, solipsistic narcissism

your miserable, meaningless lives as if I never existed. That’s fucking selfish, mate. So I figured, pharaohs and kings, they were entombed with their slaves; that’s

Jonestown.

Jonestown

motive?” In all of his endless wanderings, Ryan had never hated someone as much as this heartless, psychopathic prick. “All this pain and sorrow, just because you wanted to pull off a Jim

winning or losing. It’s

these words a cruel perversion of his own

his knuckles, while Acid Rain played with her knife. Poisonous rainclouds appeared in the skies above them. “I know all about your

grin turned

guess I will have fried fish for

time and went straight for the

took effect, but Ryan anticipated as much. Running straight at Hannifat Lecter, the courier grabbed the plushie hidden

time resumed, Ryan had closed the gap with Adam, getting past his goons to leap on the Meta leader’s chest. The madman could barely flinch in

his bare hands. Thanks to his enhanced sense of timing and Rampage-boosted body, the courier fled out of range, before dodging a mighty punch from Frank the Mad. The giant’s fist smashed the ground with enough force to create a small

reflexes allowed him to

eyes!” Adam snarled, covering his wound. As Ryan expected, the madman’s power only covered his skin, like

stay on the defensive. Though he leaped around to dodge the stone traps, Frank the Mad began pursuing the courier with astonishing speed. Unlike the frail courier, he simply smashed through the Land’s spikes. Sarin, meanwhile, had floated atop a molten trash pile to gain the high ground. Acid droplets had started falling in a faint rain, damaging

the plushie had awoken, looking around with

its terrible cuteness that she stopped her assault

to his size, it was much easier to dodge his attacks in an open space than the

raised its ears, listening

pointed a finger at Acid

The plushie leaped at Acid Rain with astonishing speed, hungry for blood. The maniacal Psycho realized the danger and quickly teleported away. Unfortunately for her, no

the beast was unleashed, none could escape

his wound to go on the offensive. His mouth widened like a pelican’s, enough that the madman could shove an arm down his throat. He brought a long spiked chain out of his own