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 at

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

his mask and hat, his terrible smile causing the undead to whine in

“Open your mouth.”

were music to Ryan’s ears, though they ended too

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

he opened the suite’s door, finding his former first lady waiting for him.

her back turned against Ryan. She wore an elegant blue leather coat and long velvet gloves, a true femme fatale straight out of a detective noir movie. Her platinum hair flowed down like a silver

closed the door behind him. “How

her blue eyes observing him with cold amusement. Her face reminded Ryan of her aunt Pluto's lovely deadliness. “Pretty good,” she said, her tone dangerous. “Though it will be the

“What do

outlived your usefulness. I have all the intel I need to

…

Shit.

Shit!

thought we were friends!” Ryan complained, his hand moving to

you believed me?” The courier froze, as Livia’s hands moved to her chair. Somehow, her every movement seemed effortlessly threatening. “Cancel is waiting outside, and her power is already at work.

his power, and the world turned

how could his time-stop still work if Cancel was around

looked at the frozen Livia, and noticed the smile

No way.

dare.

when time resumed, and found no killer

She dared.

mastermind!” Ryan said while closing the gate behind him, the hidden knife

face. “I know this is silly, but I always wanted to

last loop as Ryan’s sidekick

created a

react, which is why I did it.” Livia shyly joined her hands. “Can you forgive

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

horror. “Truly?” Livia asked

warming his hands by touching

touch his own, and they felt warmer than the

future loops. With Livia’s help, he could make his allies remember him. His friendships

suddenly realized the

Ryan smiled.

was childish,” Livia said as she returned the smile, her hands moving back to her own coffee cup. “So, Ryan. How

heart like a campfire on a cold

a mutated Bloodstream prisoner inside their lab fortress, and how Len’s presence allowed it to escape. He told her of his allies’ last stand against Alphonse Manada, how

react well, and Ryan himself didn’t fully understand what happened. He needed more time to figure that part

listened, the deeper the frown on her face. “This is horrifying,” she said, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. “Seeing

Bloodstream devour his own daughter only reinforced Ryan’s

he makes up Dynamis’ Knockoff Elixirs, then a part of him will remain within

won’t develop an immunity to it.” The monster didn’t do so

Livia pointed out. “Even with the best vaccination campaign, many will refuse

win the coin toss.” Ryan let out a shrug. “I have an idea in mind, but I want

to your tale,” Livia said, joining her fingers. “Now that I know what is inside Lab Sixty-Six, my visions are more accurate. The odds of this pandemic are low, but increase dramatically if Alphonse Manada takes over Dynamis. And he will, given time; it might take a year or ten, but the odds increase with time. It can happen

now, he had realized that Atom Smasher was the real threat among his family.

need to go whatever happened, but Livia’s prophecy reassured Ryan somewhat. “Out of all the disasters we must solve, this one is a long-term problem,” the courier said. “The two

“When will the Meta-Gang

Big Fat Adam used the weapon on the last date, but Ryan had seen him and Psypsy take over the bunker as early as May 12th. The malevolent sociopath

war on them,” Livia said sorrowfully. “Destroying

apologized. “Your father

away.

of May. She added crosses on the 12th, 18th, and 28th—the rough date of Hargraves’ planned arrival,

first,” Livia stated the obvious as she examined the calendar. “We have four

the bunker’s defenses as we speak.” The memory of Hannifat Lecter threatening to eat a hostage still haunted the

one even in the best case scenario?” Livia asked with a

Much like during his suicide run, Ryan would demolish Ghoul, and then attack the bunker afterward. “If Adam and Psyshock can be neutralized, then I can subsume their minions. If we

bunker if I call upon more help,” Livia said. “Fortuna would hold her tongue though. Would the three of us be enough to defeat

plushie’s inactivity, or maybe not. Shortie would probably help even without

manually transfer memories. If you perish early, then this complicates the

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

argued. “I will not ask for the machine’s blueprints, if you are worried about

new villain speech if I give it away?”

surprise you again,” she mused,

assault on your family if I swear to play

skepticism. “Will Ischia Island’s destruction prevent Hargraves from showing