The Perfect Run

Ryan Romano died countless times, by his hand or that of someone else.

But there was one death that trumped them all. The death that made him stop caring, and taught him to enjoy life. The perfect death, that no one should return from.

This is the story of this death.

This is the story of Monaco.

• April 1st 2017, France, Village of La Turbie.

The sun was falling behind the horizon, and the city of Monaco shone from below.

Standing at the edge of the Tête de Chien promontory, his trusty motorcycle and travel bag nearby, Ryan observed his target carefully. It had been five years since he had left Italy, and now was the moment of truth.

Well, technically it had been three months, but he lived through them again, and again, and over again. He had toured the coasts of the Mediterranean Sea, looking for any sign of Len and her submarine. He knew they had planned to go to America before… before the separation, but she couldn’t have crossed the Atlantic Ocean. She had to have stopped somewhere closer. Somewhere within his reach.

However, Ryan was starting to lose hope. He had toured Greece, Spain, France, every place he could think of. He had wandered the post-Wars wasteland, and came up short. And if she had left Europe completely, relocated underwater or on a distant island, he might as well look for a needle in a haystack.

There was only one place around the Mediterranean Sea that Ryan hadn’t visited yet. The country everyone warned him against. The place nobody returned from.

“Monaco,” Ryan said, as he observed the coastal city. It looked… nice, for a lack of a better term. And it bothered him a great deal.

First of all, the microstate was still standing. That alone was unusual. Monaco had once been one of Europe’s most luxurious coastal resorts, a den for gamblers and millionaires; and somehow, it still looked the part after the apocalypse. It seemed the bombs, robots, and nano-plagues had stopped at the border.

The buildings and houses had been spared from any degradation, and yet the time-traveler didn’t see anybody in the streets. Boats and yachts floated in the sea, empty cars formed long lines on the driveways, and Ryan couldn’t hear any noise. Not even the song of birds.

“I know I’m tempting fate by saying this,” Ryan muttered to himself, as he usually did to alleviate his loneliness, “but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

The time-traveler saved this very instant, just in case. Many had gone to Monaco, searching for supplies, Elixirs, or a safe haven; but none returned.

But none of these people could time-travel either.

“Well, guess this is the last chance, Shortie,” Ryan said, as he climbed on his motorcycle and drove towards the city. “If you aren’t in the place nobody returns from…”

Well, he could always try to cross the ocean and reach America, if it still existed. But most likely, Ryan would have to face the obvious.

That Len was gone.

The time-traveler had made his presence obvious, sent signals through radio towers and whatever communication channels he could find. If she hadn’t contacted him yet, then she was either unable to respond or dead.

And Ryan didn’t know what to do, if he gave up on his friend. His quest to find Len had guided him through so many restarts, and he had no other purpose in life. No cause to dedicate himself to. The time-traveler had been feeling adrift ever since Bloodstream’s death, and not even his power could counter his gnawing sense of solitude. Without Len, his existence had no meaning.

Ryan chased away these thoughts, climbed on his motorcycle, and followed the path down towards Monaco. As he reached the city’s official frontier, the time-traveler noticed a badly-painted sign on the side of the road.

“The armies of Andorra shall never conquer our great nation!” Ryan read out loud. Wasn’t Andorra another microstate?

The apocalypse truly caused all the weirdos to crawl out of hiding.

Ryan drove through the streets of Monaco, and much to his surprise, nothing terrible happened. He didn’t instantly fall dead, and no crazy Psycho ambushed him. It was almost disappointing.

However, the time-traveler sensed the pervading tension in the air. The streets were clean, the cars were all parked in the right spot, and the streetlights somehow worked perfectly; yet Ryan knew the city needed to import electricity from the French Republic, which had long collapsed. When he peeked through houses’ windows, he found them empty.

Ryan made his way to Monaco’s most well-known landmark, the Place du Casino. The famous Monte Carlo casino stood strong and proud, its 19th century magnificence preserved from the apocalypse. The clock above the entrance remained stuck at twelve, though the lights remained functional. The fountain in front of the entrance worked too, surrounded by a lush lane and floral arrangements.

“Is there someone here?” Ryan asked, tempting fate. Only a heavy silence answered.

Well, maybe he should look—

The plaza vanished in a flash of yellow and violet.

In the blink of an eye, Ryan found himself inside a luxurious marble hallway. Paintings adorned the walls, chandeliers provided some light, and the room led towards large wooden doors.

After a brief moment of surprise, Ryan looked around, but found himself back against a wall with only his bag of supplies. Had he been teleported somewhere else?

Ryan glanced at the paintings, most of them drawn in a surrealist style reminding him of René Magritte’s. One painting, ‘The Genesis,’ showed two gloved hands opening an Alchemist Wonderbox. Another, ‘The Triumph of Monaco,’ represented an army of golden men overrunning Mechron’s robots.

Perplexed, Ryan grabbed his supply bag and walked through the hallway until he reached the doors at the end. He noticed a sign above them, exquisitely painted with the brightest colors possible.

‘MONTE CARLO GRAND OPENING!’

However, next to that sign, Ryan noticed words crudely carved into the marble wall.

‘DON’T TRUST THE CLOWNS THEY WILL EAT YOUR HEART.’

Ryan continued reading, finding more ‘advice’ carved into the stone.

“Follow the arrows to the suites before it goes dark.” A second sentence was written next to it. Whoever carved it had done so in a hurry: ‘DON’T USE THE STAIRS TAKE THE ELEVATOR.’

Ryan lowered his gaze, noticing arrows carved on the floor. More and more confused, he opened the wooden doors and walked into the next room.

Much to his surprise, Ryan entered a replica of the Monte Carlo casino; or at least, what little he had seen from pre-Wars pictures. His steps echoed in a vast lobby supported by pillars, the ground replaced with a giant roulette table with one meter-wide tokens. Candelabras dangling from the ceiling provided the light, and the art decoration was the peak of 19th century luxury. Ryan glanced at the windows, but all of them were walled off with marble.

“Hello, dear guest!” a voice said at Ryan’s left, someone having snuck up on him.

“Ah!” Ryan took a step back, and instantly activated his time-stop. Or so he tried. He felt his ability strain against an invisible force for a brief second, but time refused to stop.

Panicking, Ryan drew a gun hidden beneath his clothes, only to quickly realize his mistake.

The creature in front of him looked like a human, but only superficially so. Its skin was unnaturally white, and most importantly, a clownish mask made of solid gold served as its face. It wore a croupier’s costume, including a bowtie, an old jacket, and gloves.

“Welcome to Monaco!” said the clown with a cheerful voice, the gold mask moving unnaturally with each new word. Its eyes and mouth oozed darkness. “The greatest country on Earth! How may I assist you?”

Ryan tried to stop time again, but something prevented his ability from activating. Damn it, did this place interfere with his power? In that case, if Ryan died within these walls…

“Where am I, Pennywise?” the time-traveler asked, keeping his gun pointed at the clown creature.

“In Monaco, of course! The greatest, most prosperous nation on Earth, by the divine providence of His Highness Jean-Stéphanie!”

“Oh, a new guest!” Ryan heard a new voice, as another clown walked into the lobby, albeit with a face of bronze instead of gold. Like its fellow clown, it wore a croupier outfit and carried a silver plate under its arm. “Welcome! Can I offer you a drink?”

What—what the hell? Did Ryan enter a Stephen King novel by accident? “Jean-Stéphanie?” he repeated, unsure which of these two clowns to shoot first.

“His Highness Jean-Stéphanie the First, Sovereign Prince of Monaco, Conqueror of Liechtenstein and San Marino!” The golden clown waved a hand at a marble statue near the pillars, representing a strange creature in a flattering position. The figure vaguely reminded Ryan of a man in a suit with a fedora, but with elongated arms and distorted facial features. “His Highness rose from humble birth to ascend to the throne of Monaco in 2005, by virtue of everyone else being dead!”

It said that with such cheerfulness too...

“Ever since, he has bravely defended Monaco against the Andorran hordes trying to destroy our great nation,” the bronze clown continued, before pointing his hand in one direction east of the lobby. “Now, I can show you our five-stars restaurant, if you wish for a warm meal? Or perhaps you would prefer to enjoy a game of roulette?”

as he glanced at the

bronze clown asked with a chuckle. “Why would anyone want to leave Monaco, the

asked,

a disturbing smile. While he sounded innocent and cheerful, something in his tone made Ryan shiver. “We are at your service during opening hours. We are always there for

their company, the more uneasy Ryan grew. Their kindness felt fake and forced. “I’ll come back later,” he promised,

and the other servant followed

stay away!” Ryan raised a gun at them, before noticing other clowns making their way into the lobby. While all of them dressed like croupiers, their masks were

clown said. He tried to sound reassuring, but it just came off as creepy.

in between two stairways. The wanderer briefly looked at them, only to notice bear traps and wires placed on the staircases. With no other way out, he walked inside the elevator while threatening the clowns with his

to the fourth-floor button, and smashed it as hard as he could. The door closed in front of Ryan, as a dozen masked creatures glared at him in

as he heard a male voice come from the elevator’s loudspeaker. “We must inform you that due to a national emergency, the Monte Carlo Casino will close early! But I assure you that, as long as His Highness Jean-Stéphanie protects us, the armies

hell was this

with a ‘ding’ sound, the lights had gone out; and the elevator’s doors closed the second Ryan exited it. He also heard

get ugly very soon, Ryan grabbed his cellphone and activated the torchlight option. The area looked like a hallway leading to various hotel suites, though the walls and doors had been reinforced with steel plates. Only one room, numbered 44, seemed to have light coming from the other side, so Ryan quickly knocked on its

loud as he could, though

Ding!

the elevator as its doors opened, half a dozen clowns emerging

and knives in hands,

like clowns anymore!” Ryan opened fire with his gun, while

only did his power fail to activate, but a silver clown took a bullet to the

like Conan the Barbarian. His savior wore

most importantly, he carried a

spoke in French, clocking his shotgun. The face beneath the helmet was wrinkled, the

savior’s way, as he fired the shotgun. The shot blasted a bronze clown apart, the creature leaking a white liquid

at the time-traveler, and both bravely fled into the suite. The armored figure quickly closed the door behind them and locked the door, Ryan hearing a loud thump on the other side. The malevolent croupiers started

I’m going to go kamikaze on your ass!” the armored man shouted through the door. “I’ll shoot you all up like Tony Montana, and kill every

to Ryan. “You alright,

entire family. Decorated in the 19th French century style, the place

a hole dug into one of the

are you a rital?” the armored asked, switching to Italian. He completely ignored the noises coming from outside and moved to the counter, leaving his shotgun within arm’s reach. He removed his helmet, revealing his utter baldness; Ryan would peg him around sixty, maybe a bit more. “You’ve wandered far away

cheese,” the traveler replied gruffly.

The man said while bringing out two glasses and a bottle of Brandy.

2017,” Ryan replied with

out a heavy sigh. “Fuck, twelve years, man. Twelve

but where are we?” Ryan asked, demanding answers. “Is

from.” An alarm echoed in the room, and Simon

a woman’s voice on the other side

croupiers followed him. Yeah, he’s safe. Don’t worry.” Simon looked at Ryan dead in the eyes. “You’ve

guns, bullets, medical

Gonna ask you to share. No selfish freeloaders here.” Simon then focused on the phone.

of Suitestown?” Ryan pointed out after Simon hung up, carefully accepting the glass. He noticed a book at the edge of the counter, ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’ by

explained. “I’m keeping the elevator border secure, maintaining the stairs traps. If

asked, finding a ray of hope in this insane nightmare. “Len Sabino. Black hair, blue eyes, Marxist-Leninist. She must have arrived

any commies yet, and I’ve been here for a while. Might be dead though. People like you, who arrive during the opening hours, they’re the lucky ones. Those who

or not in this place. Ryan prayed for the latter.

said bluntly. “The suites are the only safe zones. Something keeps them out, but only if the door

Ryan a fiendish

going to stay here for a while, p’tit

Damn it.

Ten hours.

assault lasted for ten hours. They screamed and hit the door without any rest. When the lights returned in the hallway though, the attack stopped abruptly. The clowns calmed themselves

Simon introduced Ryan to the community’s mayor Martine, a twenty-eight year old blonde living four rooms ahead of the

or underestimating it, and ended up teleported into the entrance hallway. Simon had been here the longest, a few months after the

but an opposing force canceled it at

Casino was a pocket

guess. Besides the suite’s floor, every room was a variant of eight others; a kitchen-restaurant, a giant roulette table, a lobby, a slot machines room, a retail shop, a card game arena, a stocking area, and a theater. Each room led to another, never in the same configuration, forming a giant maze with only the elevator and the ‘entrance hallway’ as the landmarks. According to the explorers’ estimation, the area covered at least eight square

with computer-generated rooms. Except it

coffee and restaurants restocked regularly, though nobody knew how it worked. Someone once placed a camera in a kitchen to record the phenomenon, and the food and water magically appeared

save point still worked. There was only one way to find out, and he wasn’t in a hurry to try the noose checkout. He had died a dozen times, and each experience had been harrowing so far. Many had told him death was a peaceful end, but

with a specific task; from explorers mapping the maze, to gatherers looking for food. Since he was one of the few experienced with firearms, Ryan quickly became Simon’s deputy, with his own suite right

Martine’s group as

nation on Earth!” a silver clown told Ryan, presenting him with a plate full of exquisite shrimps and salmon toasts. “May I offer you these gifts

with a gun. Martine, less categorical, swiped all

were completely friendly during opening hours, which in Ryan’s mind, made them even creepier. They switched from false affability to murderous hunger eerily fast, and they were frighteningly good at sneaking up on

it happened, with only five minutes to return to the suites, Ryan

is a great day for Monaco! Our soldiers won a great victory against the duke of Luxembourg! The blood of our enemies shall paint our

war with Lichtenstein, Luxembourg, Andorra, San Marino, but never the

rise!” the voice continued.

Martine told Ryan, “nobody’s ever seen

comprehension!” one of the creatures interjected, only to be ignored. “Long live

scavenging and returned to the elevator. If it interfered with

Martine offered, as they returned to the suites’ floor. “Any progress

the books the group managed to scavenge included manuals or pre-Wars technology magazines. Ryan thought he could perhaps create a radio powerful

was a fool’s hope, but until someone found an exit, it

him. “I found a cassette of La Grande Vadrouille the other day. It’s not high

of Simon’s room. “Gotta check on the

digging,” the mayor sighed.

door. As the deputy, he

the door behind him, Ryan made his way to the hole in the wall, activated a torchlight, and walked inside. It took him more than an hour, but he finally heard the sound of a pickaxe hitting stone. Simon was busy

the sheriff didn’t stop. “We’ve

man complained, hitting the wall with his pickaxe. “How long has it

“Six months.”

out a sigh. “You know, there was this guy, who had a puppy dog. He thought it was cute, so he kept sending me pictures. Every time I looked at the furred thing, it kept barking at me.

guy?” Ryan asked, a bit uncomfortable with the

Simon said. “And one day… I couldn’t resist. There wasn’t much meat, but it tasted good. Like a Christmas gift I offered

not sure I understand

while making a short pause. “Mine was to eat puppies. When I look

realized that years trapped inside a hotel suite did wonders for a man’s sanity. The wanderer dreaded to imagine how he would look ten years from now. “How long is

“Two kilometers, p’tit rital.”

Ryan repeated. How had the whole thing not collapsed on

have enough energy for ten

saying, I don’t think there’s an exit this way.” Though Ryan hadn’t given up on finding one, he had the intuition this insane dimension

“Have you ever read ‘The Myth

probably will, since you

roll a boulder for all eternity. A purely meaningless task. But when he finally realizes that it’s futile, and he stops struggling against his fate,

asked with a disgusted frown. “That

I accepted them as meaningless, so I’m at peace with myself. You though, p’tit rital? You still

me outside,” Ryan pointed

the secret of happiness, but I can’t force it on you. What I’m saying is, when you’re confronted with meaningless absurdity,

“That’s ridiculous.”