“This is the Berlin Wall,” Ryan said, as he stood between his troops and a blast door, “the last frontier between western civilization, and complete annihilation.”

He glanced at his minions, all ready to die for their country, and because they had little choice. Sarin kept her arms crossed, carrying herself with dignity in this dark hour. Darkling lurked in a corner, still sore about its nickname. Alchemo grunted, eager to see the mission done. The rest of the cannon fodder, Gemini, the Reptilian, and Ink Machine waited anxiously; knowing that as red shirts, their odds of survival were slim.

The Land, Mosquito, and a few others remained above ground to protect the Junkyard. Rakshasa had the critical task of appeasing their ever-numerous rabbit overlords, before their numbers reached critical mass; a doomed task, unfortunately. As for Incognito, Ryan had sent him to Dynamis, to lay the groundwork for the run’s final operation.

The last member of the crack team soon showed up, holding a black briefcase. “It’s here, Mr. President,” Frank declared, as he presented the holy item to his dark master. “The Nuclear Football. It came with the mail.”

Ryan held his breath, as he touched the soft leather with anticipation. He had been careful to order it through a complex route, so the sender wouldn’t learn her client’s identity, but his efforts had paid off. At long last, the courier’s diabolical plan had reached fruition.

“What’s that, Boss?” Sarin asked, a bit confused. “A secret weapon?”

“The only one that matters.”

Ryan stopped time, and when it resumed, his clothes had fallen on the floor except for the boxers. His display of manliness was welcomed with surprise and shock. “Oh my…” Ink Machine said, a bit surprised.

“Not again, you exhibitionist!” Alchemo complained. “If you lead us to battle naked, I’m taking the door!”

“Eh,” Sarin said, as she glanced at Ryan’s boxers. “I’ve seen bigger weapons of mass destruction.”

The president ignored the masses, as he slowly opened the briefcase and gazed upon the dark power within.

Wardrobe’s presidential costume.

Unlike his previous clothes, it was pure black and red; this time, there would be no more playing around. This suit was unlike anything Ryan’s foes had faced before: unrelenting, merciless, uncompromising.

Ryan slowly and silently put it on before his troops, to establish his stylish dominance over them.

The dark pants first, because it was cold in the bunker. They fit his body curves perfectly, and oozed villainous sex appeal.

Then he put on the black leather boots, to stomp protesters’ faces. With skull-themed socks.

A cashmere red shirt and black suit, Karl Lagerfeld style. Because when you embraced the dark side, you dressed German.

A strong and powerful necktie, to represent his authoritarian, unflinching leadership.

Velvet gloves, to choke his minions when they talked back.

A black jacket, that would flow with the wind when he looked threatening atop rooftops.

A red and silver mask covered most of his head, except for the eyes, so that his evil gaze may terrify children.

And finally, a savage bowler hat, to show he meant business.

No light. No hope. Only one word.

“Perfect,” Ryan said, deepening his voice to sound more intimidating.

His men remained too intimidated to say anything, except for the idiot of the group. “I don’t find it anything special,” the Reptilian said. “And I think it’s a bit too edg—”

In response, Ryan choked him with one hand.

It had taken him years to master this move, but the sudden lack of air and blood brought the Reptilian to his knees. The mook attempted to grab the president’s arm with his hands, but the lawful authority only strengthened his grip around his victim’s throat.

“I find your lack of taste disturbing,” Ryan said, his tone promising only death.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” the Reptilian managed to sputter, his reptilian face turning purple.

“I’m sorry who, handbag?”

“I’m sorry… Mr. President…”

Ryan released the protester, and let him gasp for breath. He glanced at the other Psychos, who all straightened up. Frank carefully grabbed the president’s old clothes and put them in the briefcase.

“Alright then, mooks, listen up,” Ryan addressed his troops, as he put his trusty coil gun around his belt, and the Fisty Brothers on top of his velvet gloves. “Our goal is to reach the base’s mainframe thanks to a shortcut, and allow our brain-dead friend to hook up with it.”

“I’m not—”

“Are you questioning my authority?” Ryan asked Alchemo. “Because I respect freedom of speech.”

The Genius glanced at the Reptilian, who had barely recovered from the choking. “Two years,” Alchemo said, “and it’s still the same nonsense.”

“I love democracy.” Ryan promptly continued with his explanations. “Your job is to make sure he reaches his destination. Frank and Darkling will force a path forward, and we’ll follow suit.”

The steel giant immediately made a salute, having put the briefcase aside. “Yes, Mr. President.”

No answer from his back-up though.

“Darkling? Darkling?” Ryan glanced at his favorite ball of black goo. “Darkling, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

“... my name not Darkling...” the slime answered unconvincingly, its countless eyes looking away.

“Then what is it?” the president asked smugly.

“... not Darkling.”

Alright, Not-Darkling it was.

before we go in, I would deliver a speech, but let’s be honest, a Psycho’s life is nasty, brutish, and short.” Ryan put his hands on his waist, Darth Vader style. “Our fists and guns will

didn’t feel a little anxious about this operation. Many of the circumstances that made it possible wouldn’t repeat, from Psyshock going to the past, Sarin acting as a guard, or Darkling using Ghoul as a vessel at the right time. Nor

started looping, this run would

men reaching the mainframe, after all, which meant that the things on the other side could kill Genomes. One laser to the

Ryan hadn’t gotten this far without taking

his coil gun, “Sarin, be a

a vibrator...” His second-in-command raised her hands, and

welcomed with a hail of laser

of the way before a stray ray could hit her. On the other side of the broken door, the courier glimpsed a squadron of cyclopean androids, each firing rays from their single eye.

the robot squadron. The giant crushed anything in his path, his body absorbing the

at their formation’s center, with

All hell broke loose.

took a step before he had to dodge a bullet, as the walls opened to reveal twin miniguns on each side. A volley hit Ink Machine by surprise, but her liquid body

of the group, Ryan froze time and shot both weapons with his coil gun. Thankfully, the projectiles were powerful enough to perforate the

tackling any tin can approaching her too closely. Ink Machine leaped around the room and used her liquid form to seep inside a robot and take it over, using it as a metal shield

strangest member of the Meta-Gang, Gemini, also pulled her weight. While appearing like an ethereal woman of shining light at first glance, Ryan had realized the truth upon closer examination: her tentacled shadow was the real her, and the shining woman a mere illusion. And that shadow could kill. When it

lights suddenly increased in luminosity. Two robots moved their pitch-black shadows in such a

own. It had only taken the machines a few minutes to guess the nature of her power and figure out a counter. They had also realized that Frank could absorb metal on touch,

the way they moved, avoiding friendly

a key target; perhaps

the Genius. The

machines switched targets. This time, they focused on Ryan. Five robots unleashed a volley of lasers in his direction, and a sixth

his power. He leaped out of the lasers’

by shooting down the machines holding Gemini

opposition, Frank resumed his rampage and smashed through the next door. The new room beyond the hallway took the shape of a large dome, with

drones flew through, and opened fire at the group with submachine guns. Darkling

unleashing a blinding light. Blast doors on the walls opened and

a wall to protect Alchemo, Frank rampaged through the ground-bound machines, his metal body shrugging off lasers easily enough. Unfortunately, his lack of range prevented

courier eventually resorted to stopping time, both to push his second-in-command out

robots were trying the same ‘shadow grab’ tactic their predecessors used on Gemini, except this time with greater numbers. Eight robots grabbed the Psycho’s

her with sustained laser beams. The liquid Psycho dissipated into colored steam, her body unable to

death

pointed at his left once he had a brief respite, near a junction between the dome’s wall and the floor. “The structural weakness should

she started targeting the spot with shockwaves. Cracks slowly began to appear on

Sarin, but Darkling formed a defensive wall around her, Alchemo, Ryan, and the Reptilian. Only Frank was left out, but he clearly didn’t need help. Eventually, Hazmat Girl blew

path to

us!” he ordered, while Sarin leaped into the hole. “Frank,

clim—” Alchemo started complaining, only for the Reptilian and Ryan to grab him like a potato sack before jumping into the void. Frank and Darkling moved to cover the hole behind them,

bodies, some with their organs floating in colored liquid; while they had human features, the creatures’ limbs were

A Genome research lab.

vats with what Ryan guessed to be Elixirs.

Sarin asked, pointing at two

right behind a green vat. If they collapsed it, they would gain direct access to the

released colored gas from her fingers. The wall rusted at an accelerated rate while Ryan raised his eyes at the hole above his head. Thankfully, Darkling had wisely sealed the hole with its body, preventing

ground. Apparently, his enhanced senses allowed him to notice slight vibrations. “I sense something coming from the left.

a boss at the end. “Braindead, behind me,” Ryan said, pushing the Genius closer to Sarin. “Reptilian, hold the line. It’s time to die for

rather avoid that, Mr. President,” the reptile

raised his hand to mimic a choking

machine walked through. The creature looked like a vat on six steely spider legs, with two mechanical hands at the front. Crimson liquid swirled inside the vat, as an energy bolt raced through

robot, but never reached his target. The machine pointed a hand at the Psycho,

was a telekinetic Genome. A true telekinetic, capable of applying force to anything with

scene reminded Ryan of a mosquito being crushed by a flyswatter, the mangled body falling on the ground when

now, the thing had turned its attention towards Ryan,

sensed pressure in the air, immediately moving away from his current position and firing a shot. The coil gun’s projectile bounced off

a wall. Only the

machine answered by telekinetically ripping out steel panels from the

banter with a mindless machine. The courier might as well be speaking to a wall,

punched the machine’s left arm at the joints, snapping it in half with Fisty. He hoped it would disrupt its telekinesis; the courier couldn’t afford smashing the glass container in close combat, or he might risk being drenched in Elixir. The arm

war, and didn’t rupture from the

into paste with its remaining arm. Though the time-traveler managed to activate his time-stop and move away each time the creature started applying force around

slither through the ceiling’s hole, and fell directly

machine’s telekinesis like Alphonse Manada’s radiation. The shoggoth dissolved

said as he fled into the tunnel, leaving his pet shoggoth to its

his way into the bunker’s command room, crimson lights and screens flickering above his head. A

turrets, help our brainy friend,” Ryan told Sarin, as he reloaded his coil gun and opened fire at a

gatling turret and leaped at it. Then, he started riding it like a bull, forcefully aiming it at the other weapons in the room. A hail of bullets flew across the room once time resumed, but

suppressing fire, the Chernobyl cosplayer released her gas at the metal pedestal holding the giant brain; part of it rusted, and

the Genius intertwined with the giant brain, nailing it with his syringe-fingers and connecting to the alien machinery. Blue lightning raced through Alchemo’s

one that Ryan had seized deactivated, much to his disappointment. He had loved the brief

asked, glancing at the turrets as if expecting them to open fire

privileges and ID

I can’t hear tremors or gunfire,” Ryan said, “so I would call

redshirts, but the information gathered on the defenses would serve him

the holographic observatory. Frank had piled up a hill of robots

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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