The Perfect Run

• 2016, Italy.

“Our target,” Leonard Hargraves faced his team in his human form, “is Freddie Sabino, alias Bloodstream.”

Pictures of the man that the Psycho used to be appeared on the screen, right next to the bloody abomination he had turned into. Short black hair, a tired face aged by stress, brown eyes… an unremarkable man for a terrible destiny.

“Born 1980 in Otranto, Italy, to a fisherman and a housewife, Freddie Sabino married young, dropped out of college when his girlfriend expected a child, and then joined the Otranto Polizia Municipale; the only job he ever had. His wife abandoned him for another man before Last Easter, leaving him to raise two young children alone. A daughter, Len—perhaps a shorthand for Lenora—and a son, Cesare.”

In short, there was nothing special about the man. If the apocalypse hadn’t happened, Freddie Sabino might have lived a normal life. Put money on the side, watched his kids go to college, perhaps marry again.

“Though the Alchemist sent Wonderboxes to families or isolated individuals, a few Elixirs ended up in the hands of law enforcement on Last Easter’s eve; usually because they were mistaken for drug batches or letter bombs. When the apocalypse began and Genomes rampaged in Otranto, Freddie Sabino stole two Elixirs from his police station and fled the city.”

They would never know to whom these Elixirs had been sent, before the police confiscated them. Perhaps if they had reached their intended owners, a great many tragedies could have been averted.

“We know Sabino was active as a Psycho as early as 2009.” Leo showed his team a phone picture of a bloody monster boarding a rusted car, alongside two children no older than twelve. “Reports indicated he has traveled with his children since the late 2000s, though his son was only confirmed as alive in 2012.”

Someone among the audience raised a gloved hand. Leo responded with a nod. “Yes?”

“Do the children have powers too?” Mr. Wave asked. The oddest member of the group, he was a creature of living wavelengths, and rarely took things seriously. “Mr. Wave is not going all out on kids, even if they’re Genomes.”

“The kids are powerless,” said Mathias Martel. The sixteen-year-old teen had insisted on joining the Carnival after his mother’s dementia, determined to complete her work. He had proved invaluable as an information gatherer, though not as much as Pythia.

Ace nodded with a dark look on her face. “He would have killed them if they were Genomes.”

“Nothing indicates that they are complicit in their father’s crimes,” Leo continued. “According to Pythia’s psyche report, Bloodstream remains violently protective of his children even in his current state. However, he also keeps them dependent on him through social isolation, gaslighting, and physical abuse.”

Leo had seen many similar cases in London; far too many. These fathers convinced their children the world was out to get them, and that they could only rely on their kin.

“We must ensure the children’s safety, especially that of Len Sabino, but I will come back to them in a few moments.” Leo continued his exposé on their target’s capabilities. “Bloodstream is a Green/Blue type. His Green power grants him complete control over his blood. He can reshape it into weapons, create tentacles, restructure his body. His Blue power turns him into pure information. It might have allowed him to enter computer systems, had he remained a pure Blue.”

It would have made him easier to kill.

“But as it is often the case with Psychos, his two powers mutated to form a unique synergy. Bloodstream became his blood, literally. Each of his blood cells hosts his consciousness, allowing him to reform as long as one remains. Nothing short of disintegration will slay him.”

“We need your flames,” the Cossack guessed.

Leonard nodded. “Which leads us to his ghastliest ability; the reason why he has remained undefeated for so long and accumulated a four-digit body count. If Bloodstream’s blood cells enter another human’s circulatory system, then he can take it over. Like a virus, he will overwrite foreign cells’ information with his own. Your DNA, your mind, your memories… If Bloodstream touches you, you are worse than dead.”

Leonard marked a short pause for emphasis.

“You are him.”

“What do you think?” Shortie asked, as she wiped sweat off her forehead. Her clothes had turned black and dirty, but she looked at her work with pride.

Standing on the boathouse’s pier at her side, Ryan didn’t share her enthusiasm. “That it will be a miracle if we reach Spain, let alone the USA.”

The boathouse smelled of rust and decaying paint, its ceiling threatening to fall apart any moment. The ten meter-long vessel floated in a water pond with direct access to the Tyrrhenian Sea, a pineapple-shaped, clunky mass of metal. The machine’s shape and rusty brown color scheme reminded Ryan of the Ictíneo II, one of the world’s earliest submarines.

It didn’t inspire confidence.

Len pinched him in the arm in response. “The Laika will work fine,” she said. “We’ll reach America in twelve days according to the autopilot.”

Ryan squinted at her with skepticism. “The Laika?”

“Like the dog the Russians sent to space.”

And they wanted to go to the USA? She would never fit in. “You do know she died midway through the mission, right? You’ve condemned us all!”

Len tried to pinch him in the arm again, but Ryan saw it coming. He dodged her vicious attack, and responded by grabbing her by the waist and treacherously kissing her on the neck. Her skin was soft to the touch, and she let out a cute gasp of surprise.

“Riri, not here,“ she whispered in protest, putting her hands on his own.

“Just a kiss,” Ryan asked, begged, his lips moving to her cheeks. “Come on, we deserve it. We’ve been working on this thing nonstop for weeks.”

“Riri, you’re insane…” Len whispered, but she didn’t fight him back either. Eventually, she gave in. “Okay, but five minutes tops.”

They made out for fifteen, her hand in his hair, his own on her back. Len tasted of oil and saltwater, but Ryan didn’t care. He wouldn’t have stopped for anything in the world. But like all good things, it was over too soon.

“That was foolish,” Len said while breaking the embrace, though her blushing cheeks disagreed.

If she had let him, Ryan wouldn’t have stopped at mere kisses.

Their first night together had been a logistical nightmare. First, they had to find pre-war pills which hadn’t expired, and unused condoms. Then they had to wait for her father to wander away, so he wouldn’t catch them in the act. When the right moment came, Ryan and Len realized they had no idea how to proceed. Nobody taught them the finer details, so their kisses and touches had been horribly clumsy.

But they figured it out. For a moment, Ryan and Len had been alone in the world. Two halves made one.

Ryan wouldn’t have stopped at one night, but her father never let them out of sight for long anymore. Not since the Carnival started hunting his clones. The two teens had to settle on furtive kisses and caresses, always fearing discovery.

The situation made Ryan die a little inside each day. Len’s father was always there. Always between them. Always ruining their chance at happiness. Always causing them trouble.

And now, that insane maniac had decided the ‘family’ would leave Europe altogether and migrate to America. What logical process Bloodstream went through to reach this idea, Ryan would never understand. But he didn’t leave his charges any choice.

Porto Venere had been a small coastal town before the apocalypse, a few colored houses built next to long piers. The locals had abandoned the place long before their group moved in. It was isolated enough that nobody would locate their hideout, but close enough to Genoa for supply runs.

Though Ryan himself was the only one who left the house nowadays. Shortie spent her time working on her submarine, while her father hid in their temporary home. The Carnival fell on them whenever Bloodstream went out in public, but Ryan could slip out unnoticed, if he took precautions.

“Can you bring back oranges and citruses, if you find any?” Len asked Ryan, as he prepared to leave the boathouse through a small door. “We risk scurvy with our current reserves.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he said, before freezing at his hand reached the door lock. “Hey, Shortie…”

“Mmm…”

“You said everything on the sub is automated? No manual controls?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I can do a lot with my power, but scavenged boats aren’t the best source of materials available. I had to sacrifice some features to make the whole thing work.”

“What if we have a problem on the way?”

“Well, the sub will automatically redirect to the nearest shore. Hopefully, Dad will protect us in the meantime.”

Ryan looked over his shoulders, their eyes meeting. “It’s your dad I worry about.”

her arms. “Riri,

fled across the sea. Bloodstream might have an uncanny ability to locate his

she remained stubborn as a mule. “They’ll keep coming after him,” he warned her. “As long as he lives, they will never let

across

even in space,” Ryan countered. “It will take

they didn’t find us yet.” They had

it as a statement, but it sounded like a fervent prayer

they wouldn’t stop at

couldn’t help but dream of a sun falling down on Bloodstream

moved through the rest of the building. He guessed it had been a boat club once, where

“Cesare!”

the bone, making the boy

teen followed the voice to the house’s dining room. Bloodstream slouched on a tattered sofa, right in front of the TV. This was the last clone, as far as Ryan could tell. The Carnival had

said, gesturing at a spot to his left. Ryan reluctantly obeyed, his kind and well-adjusted stepfather pointing at the TV.

glass, but

toys,” Bloodstream said, shaking his head. “I… I wish I had the money to back then. I really

lied, going through

said, moving his head closer to his captive’s ear.

Ryan’s spine. “Len looks healthy to me,”

Cesare. All of us who took this poison, we’re all sick. The disease is in us. It drove the whole world mad.

dream of

microscopic flies move into my lungs as I breathe. Even the water looks back and speaks to me. Hell is alive, Cesare. It’s an infestation. Satan distributed these bottles to poison the

talk back to Bloodstream

in fertile soil. You have to be careful about removing it, or you destroy the whole garden.” Bloodstream patted his adoptive son’s shoulder, as if congratulating him for winning a soccer game. “I’ll find a way to operate on

a matter of time before he looked at

know what I will do. I love you. I… love you both so

his hands. Ryan

up his body shifting like a raging sea. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t… I just wanted to protect you both, and I… I ruined it all. Now Len is sick, and… and I’m sick too. I’m

him, to strike him in return for the years of fear and abuse, but… but in that moment, he didn’t fear

pitied the man

all I’ve left,” he whimpered. “Your mother is gone. Our house is gone. I just… I don’t know what to do… that place,

carefully raised a hand, putting it on the

a Japanese pond. “I’m sure your mom is waiting for us on the other side of the ocean,” he said, with a shaking, hopeful voice. “She... she always wanted to go to L.A. She’s waiting for

like reassuring a child with cancer, telling him he would

inside could reassert control; that Ryan could call himself Ryan, not Cesare; that he could marry Len, build a house near the sea, and raise children in peace. A simple dream, for a simple

quickly turned

broken TV, as if suddenly inspired. “If you die,” he said, his voice no longer shaking. “If you and your sister die... I’ll kill

softly, Ryan found

the words,

lost in his delirium. “A world where children can die… it’s just not worth existing. We’ll all be

a word after that confession. He spent his time on the sofa, looking at

went right

around, making him forget all the horrors Bloodstream inflicted on his family and countless others.

minutes to leave the house, worrying that he might return to find Len dead at her father’s hands. He always felt this way whenever he left these two

didn’t bring him any comfort, as he walked towards his bike with a bag

would never make it to

could feel it in his bones. The proximity, the isolation… her father would lose control. He would weep and regret, but he

time-bomb, and

had to die. For

examined the Violet Elixir he always kept inside. Thankfully, Bloodstream only detected Elixirs inside Genomes’ blood; but that meant he would know the second his adoptive son

freedom. Perhaps it could give

across the skies,

possession process. A drop of blood infected an adult man, spreading through his veins like an infection, devouring the

the lifeblood out, and Bloodstream

a clone of himself. In fact, we believe he did it so often that his current body isn’t the original one.” A tense silence followed Leo’s explanations, as his team digested the

half of them at once, the other half will fear him?” The boastful Genome slouched on his

close,” Leo confirmed. “To get rid of him, we must destroy all his copies and leave nothing behind. Not even a droplet. Each time we ambush a clone, I will incinerate it and Stitch will sterilize the area afterward. Fortunately, Bloodstream is a lone wolf Psycho. Unlike people like Adam the Ogre, he lacks a support

is a pack of

moved more than one mile from each other, perhaps to maintain their hive mind. If we isolate Bloodstream’s doubles from bystanders, we can eliminate them one

where they are?” Ace asked. “I didn’t find

their trail. “The family travels across Italy in an irregular pattern and never stays in

pursue Bloodstream relentlessly and keep

turned to face Stitch. “Did you

nod. “I was waiting for this meeting to fact check the intelligence our leader had

one place for debriefings or large operations. This structure allowed each member a great deal of flexibility, and made the group highly resilient. Members might die, but

he can only control his own blood,” Leonard explained, showing pictures of Bloodstream bisecting an Augusti Genome with a crimson, crystallized axe. “He cannot telekinetically control your blood, unless he infects you first. Neither can he generate mass out of thin air, which is why he needs

then?” Mr.

Manic Plague,”

of ten doubles. If they break that limit, the clones start absorbing each other to reduce their numbers, probably to reduce the risk of them developing individual thoughts.

Stitch raised his hand.

“Yes, Stitch?”

due respect,” the doctor

her to the sub, when

her grip on her books. Some safely fell on the pier, but her copy of Lenin’s

happening?!” Her father didn’t answer. A smell of smoke and flames came from the sea, carried inside the boathouse by the wind. “Dad?

boathouse’s door with a backpack full of

He looked exhausted, as if he had run for miles. “Riri, what’s

said, catching his breath. “They’re here. The

had come to

bombardment. It’s his last body, Len

her books

“Go? Go where?”

into her

“Maybe

kill him, but he had never lost. Her father always came back, always beat the odds. He had fought

your father can’t beat them all.” Ryan leapt on the sub, carefully moving towards the hatch.

sheer panic in his voice convinced her. She followed her boyfriend, opening the

only three rooms: one at the back for the machinery, one for stockpiled supplies, and the living space. Len had sacrificed space for efficiency, keeping only a

on the computer while Ryan put her books

“I wasn’t careful.”

work to look at him, and

Len accused him. “You led them

didn’t even deny

he could… he couldn’t have…

father is sick,” he said, his gaze firm. “He’s sick in

know,” she hissed, grinding her teeth,

interrupted her. “If we don’t flee, he’ll kill us. He’ll