The Perfect Run

In the end, all of Ryan’s loops started the same way.

By ramming his car into Ghoul’s back.

“You know, you have become a fixture in my life,” Ryan said as he exited his Plymouth and walked into Renesco’s bar. By now, this place had become a second home to the courier. He had grown almost paternally fond of the wall he kept crashing into. “I’ve had more dates with you than with Jasmine.”

Ghoul wriggled on the ground, trying to rise up again using the bar counter. The barman Renesco hid behind it, unsure how to react to Ryan’s unforgettable entrance. The courier happily waltzed through debris, wind entering the establishment through the hole in the wall.

“I thought my life was a black comedy, maybe a tragicomedy, but now I realize… it was a vampire romance all along.” Ryan loomed over Ghoul, hands behind his back. The Psycho was halfway back on his feet, while the other patrons dared not interfere. “Do your bones shine in sunlight?”

“What the hell are you talki—” Ghoul screamed as Ryan introduced the undead's knee to his boot, the Psycho collapsing on the ground. “You bastard!”

“All of this to say that I’m not stalking you,” the courier said, as he kicked his beloved again. “I mean, look at me. I’m handsome. Only ugly people stalk, that’s well known. If I hurt you, it’s out of love.”

His love of hurting Ghoul.

Darkling had said that the Black Ultimate One would remove it from causality and all future resets, and Ryan had wondered if it also applied to its previous hosts. However, the bag of bones had returned without any memory of the previous loop.

Which meant that Big Fat Adam lived again, plotting mischief.

“I’m calling Security!” the barman Renesco complained behind the bar counter, while the wounded Ghoul tried to crawl away from Ryan. The undead looked at the courier as if he were insane, which wounded his soft, sensible heart.

Ryan didn’t react well to rejection.

“I know your secret weakness, Ghoul,” Ryan said, as he opened his car’s backdoor. “A kryptonite you cannot hope to defend yourself against.”

A dirty street dog leaped out of the Plymouth Fury, her sparkling eyes lacking anything resembling intelligence; she was the bastard daughter of a mastiff and a greyhound, and inherited the ugliest parts of both. Her tongue stuck out, fleas happily moving on from her blackening fur to greener pastures. This plebeian creature lacked Eugène-Henry’s aristocratic flair but had a certain rustic charm, though her terrible stench made the bar’s patrons recoil.

“Her name is Henriette. I found her eating trash on my way to the bar, and I bought her loyalty with a ham.” Ryan always kept food in his car for situations like this. “Now, as a cat person, this may seem like a betrayal. And it is!”

Ryan petted his hellhound behind the ears, and she loved it very much. All dogs wanted affection. “I have no shame, no hesitation, no principles!”

“What do you want?” Ghoul asked, looking at Henriette with dread. The she-dog had noticed him, her eyes rising up as she gazed at his barebone legs with hunger.

The Psycho knew what was coming.

“Only your pain,” Ryan replied, pointing a finger at his prey. “Go, girl!”

Henriette leaped on Ghoul, and he couldn’t crawl away fast enough.

The dog brought her new master a beautiful femur a few seconds later, and she was very proud of it too.

Ghoul was only the first person on Ryan’s Christmas list. After the tense ending of the previous loop, the courier needed a moment of respite and catharsis before getting down to business.

Ryan’s next naughty child lived not so far from Jamie’s own house. The courier knocked on the door of a single-story bungalow, so perfect in its mundanity. Only the condemned windows indicated something wrong with the tenant.

The door soon opened, revealing a lean, gaunt man with snow white skin and raven hair. This pallid scarecrow remained in the darkness, fearing the sunlight that would certainly burn his unholy soul. Garish, colorful paint figments covered his dirty clothes. The black circles around his bloodshot, green eyes told Ryan he had just woken up.

Damn, not only was this man a hitman, but he was also a vampire!

“Richard Pinkman?” Ryan asked. “Night Terror?”

“Uh… yes?” The vampire squinted suspiciously at the courier. “Do we know each other?”

“I have something for you, though it’s a bit late.” Ryan wanted to make this delivery in the last loop, but never found the opportunity to do so. “The night is dark and full of terrors, huh?”

The man frowned, realizing that his visitor knew of his power and its limitations. The vampire’s hand moved to his back, perhaps looking for a gun; as if he could hurt the pure of heart. “What kind of delivery?”

Ryan punched him in the face so hard, that the man stumbled backward. His back hit something with a loud clatter, though the courier couldn’t see due to the darkness inside the house.

“Don’t make me live through my childhood traumas again,” Ryan warned the vicious telepath. The fact these nightmares became real afterward had left the courier bitter. “You can’t fathom how much money I spent on therapists.”

Night Terror didn’t answer, knocked out cold.

Ryan took a moment to check off his Christmas list, finding the next name to be Karen Ricci, alias the Vamp. After the vampire, the witch. Unfortunately, it was getting late, and the courier might not survive his plan for her. Luigi came afterward, but Ryan was too tired for a late-afternoon hockey match.

“Maybe later.”

A princess waited for him.

Ryan reached the Deadland motel by nightfall, parking his car near the entrance. Henriette sat at his side, the bastard dog whining at her new master with shameful eyes. Though he favored cats and rabbits above all else, Ryan had learned how to handle dogs across loops. He knew that look.

“You want a litter box?”

Henriette yapped in response, her tongue sticking out of her mouth. She made a face only a dog lover could appreciate.

looking

courier with fear. For a moment, Ryan almost felt pity for the murderous bag of bones. But then,

smile causing the undead to whine

“Open your mouth.”

screams of despair were music to Ryan’s ears, though they ended too soon. The Psycho

toy, and walked towards the motel. He noticed light coming from Livia’s room, but no Killer Seven

his former first lady waiting for him. The table was

and long velvet gloves, a true femme fatale straight out of a detective noir movie. Her platinum hair

Ryan said as he closed the door behind him. “How was your first

blue eyes observing him with cold amusement. Her face reminded Ryan of her aunt Pluto's lovely deadliness. “Pretty good,”

frowned. “What do you

I have all the intel I need to take over this city, and the only obstacle

…

Shit.

Shit!

complained, his hand moving to his coat to

hands moved to her chair. Somehow, her every movement seemed effortlessly threatening. “Cancel is waiting outside, and

Alchemo’s betrayal all over again! Ryan reflexively activated his

could his time-stop still work if

Livia, and noticed the smile she desperately tried

No way.

wouldn’t dare.

time resumed, and found no killer

She dared.

gate behind him,

she apologized, a sheepish grin on her face. “I know this is silly, but I always wanted to

last loop as Ryan’s sidekick had

created

I didn’t know how you would react, which is why I did

table. “But don’t try it again, princess, I could have killed you. I’m really sensitive about these

Livia asked while

informed them of the truth,” Ryan admitted, warming his hands by touching his coffee cup. “Some tried to restrain

now Livia regretted her joke. Her hands moved to touch his own, and they felt warmer than the cup. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I didn’t

an ally that would help up across future loops. With Livia’s help, he could make his allies remember him. His friendships

mean?” Livia frowned, as she suddenly realized the cookies had vanished. “Did you eat them in the

Ryan smiled.

as she returned the smile, her hands moving back to her own coffee cup. “So, Ryan. How do

The word warmed Ryan’s heart like a campfire on

it to escape. He told her

how he managed to hurt Lightning Butt though. His daughter might not react well, and Ryan himself didn’t fully understand what happened. He needed more time to figure

is horrifying,” she said, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. “Seeing

devour his own daughter only reinforced Ryan’s poor opinion of him. “Death will

even kill him? If he makes up Dynamis’ Knockoff Elixirs, then a part of him will

he won’t develop an immunity to it.” The monster didn’t do so either when Shortie’s fluids touched

the best vaccination campaign, many will refuse to give up their powers. Especially since most paid a small fortune for

“I have an idea in mind,

more accurate. The odds of this pandemic are low, but increase dramatically if Alphonse Manada takes

chairman didn’t worry the courier much. By now, he had realized that

the disasters we must solve, this one is a long-term problem,” the courier

“When will the Meta-Gang use

date, but Ryan had seen him and Psypsy take over the bunker as early as May 12th. The malevolent sociopath had almost pulled the trigger when the Manada invaded his

war on them,” Livia said sorrowfully.

“Your father is not a nice

she said, looking away. “Do

scribbled a makeshift calendar on a paper sheet, planning the month of May. She added crosses on

the obvious as she examined the calendar. “We

as we speak.” The memory of Hannifat

the best case scenario?” Livia asked with a frown. “You

demolish Ghoul, and then attack the bunker afterward. “If Adam and Psyshock can be neutralized, then I can subsume their

upon more help,” Livia said. “Fortuna would hold her tongue though. Would the three of us

help even without her memories, and perhaps Shroud too. “I need to perfect the

since we need you to manually transfer memories. If you perish early, then this complicates the next loop.” Livia crossed her arms. “Can you recreate the mind-transfer machine

the Genius device needed pieces difficult to make without a support network. “I will need more technological resources. Either the bunker,

can introduce you to Vulcan,” Livia argued. “I will not ask for the machine’s blueprints, if you

speech if I

she mused, though her smile quickly faltered. “What

assault on your family if I swear

Ischia Island’s destruction