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

murderous bag of bones. But then, he remembered his previous loop, and how Ghoul had encouraged his boss to turn the time-traveler into

his terrible smile causing the undead

“Open your mouth.”

of despair were music to Ryan’s ears, though they ended

Henriette to her new chew toy, and walked towards the motel. He noticed light coming from Livia’s room,

suite’s door, finding his former first lady waiting for him. The table

stood on the other side, her back turned against Ryan. She wore an elegant blue leather coat and long velvet gloves, a true femme fatale straight out of

door

Her face reminded Ryan of her aunt Pluto's lovely deadliness. “Pretty good,” she said, her tone dangerous. “Though

“What

sorry Ryan, but now that I remember everything, you have outlived your usefulness. I have all the intel

…

Shit.

Shit!

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

you believed me?” The courier froze, as Livia’s hands moved to her chair. Somehow, her every movement seemed effortlessly threatening. “Cancel

Ryan reflexively activated his power,

could his time-stop still work if Cancel was around

and noticed the smile she

No way.

dare.

when time resumed, and found no killer

She dared.

Ryan said while closing the gate behind him, the hidden knife back inside his trenchcoat.

grin on her face. “I know this is silly, but I always wanted to make a speech like this. I knew nobody else would

last loop as Ryan’s sidekick had corrupted

had created a

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

never blame someone with such an impeccable fashion sense,” Ryan said, 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 while she sat

people went mad after I informed them of the truth,” Ryan admitted, warming his hands by touching

Her hands moved to touch his own, and they felt warmer than the cup. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I didn’t wish to open

At long last, Ryan had an ally that would help up across future loops. With Livia’s

the cookies had vanished. “Did you eat

Ryan smiled.

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

Ryan’s heart like a campfire

Len confirmed that Dynamis kept a mutated Bloodstream prisoner inside their lab fortress, and how Len’s presence allowed it to escape. He told her

daughter might not react well, and Ryan himself didn’t fully understand what happened. He needed more

more Livia 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 poor opinion of

makes up Dynamis’ Knockoff Elixirs, then a part

monster didn’t do so either when Shortie’s fluids touched a Knockoff Elixir, perhaps because her father had very little control over his fragments

will refuse to give up their powers. Especially since most paid

people smoke while thinking they’ll win the coin toss.” Ryan let out a shrug. “I have an idea in mind, but

The odds of this pandemic are low, but increase dramatically if Alphonse Manada takes over

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

reassured Ryan somewhat. “Out of all the disasters we must

scowled. “When will the Meta-Gang use Mechron’s satellite

the bunker as early as May 12th. The malevolent sociopath had almost pulled the trigger when the

will wage war on them,” Livia

sorry,” Ryan apologized. “Your father is

looking away. “Do

sheet, planning the month of May. She added crosses on the 12th, 18th, and 28th—the rough

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

is throwing people at the bunker’s defenses as we speak.”

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

Ryan would demolish Ghoul, and then attack the bunker afterward. “If Adam and Psyshock can

wind of the bunker if I call upon

or maybe not. Shortie would probably help even without her memories, and perhaps Shroud too.

memories. If you perish early, then this complicates the next

his considerable financial resources, the Genius device needed pieces difficult to make without a support

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

villain speech if I give

mused, though her smile quickly faltered.

to halt its assault on your family if I swear to play

in skepticism. “Will Ischia Island’s destruction prevent