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

the murderous bag of bones.

and hat, his terrible smile causing the undead

“Open your mouth.”

to Ryan’s ears, though they ended too soon. The Psycho had lost his courage

towards the motel. He noticed light coming from Livia’s room, but

his former first lady waiting for

coat and long velvet gloves, a true femme fatale straight out of a detective noir movie. Her platinum hair flowed down like a silver

princess,” Ryan said as he closed the door behind him. “How

Ryan of her aunt Pluto's lovely deadliness. “Pretty

frowned. “What

now that I remember everything, you have outlived your usefulness. I have all the intel I need to take over this city, and the only obstacle remaining…”

…

Shit.

Shit!

his hand moving

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

reflexively activated his power, and the world turned purple as he prepared to strike

how could his time-stop still work

and noticed the smile

No way.

dare.

quickly opened the door when time resumed, and found

She dared.

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

“I know this is silly, but I always wanted to make a speech like this. I knew nobody

Ryan’s sidekick had corrupted

created a

would react, which is why I

said, sitting around the table. “But don’t try it again, princess, I could have

joy instantly turned to horror. “Truly?” Livia asked

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

regretted her joke. Her hands moved to touch his own, and they felt warmer

would help up across future loops. With Livia’s help, he could

the cookies had

Ryan smiled.

moving back to her own coffee cup. “So, Ryan. How

like

how Len’s presence allowed it to escape. He told her of his allies’ last stand against Alphonse

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

is horrifying,” she said, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. “Seeing your stepfather in such a

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

makes up Dynamis’ Knockoff Elixirs, then a part

for Dr. Tyrano’s vaccine. Unless Bloodstream’s core is in contact with Len’s blood, he won’t develop an immunity to it.” The 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 while neutered

best vaccination campaign, many will refuse to give up their powers. Especially

Ryan let out a shrug. “I have

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

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

“Out of all the disasters we must solve, this one is a long-term problem,”

will the Meta-Gang

last 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 HQ in the Dynamis loop. “And if

father will wage war on them,” Livia

Ryan apologized. “Your father is not

know,” she said, looking away.

makeshift calendar on a paper sheet, planning the month of May. She added crosses on the 12th, 18th, and 28th—the rough date of Hargraves’ planned

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

have to be done today in the final loop. The fatass is throwing people at the bunker’s defenses as we speak.” The memory of Hannifat Lecter threatening to eat a hostage still haunted the courier. “The longer we wait, the

is not the final one even in the best case scenario?” Livia asked with a frown. “You want to assault the bunker

and then attack the bunker afterward. “If Adam and Psyshock can be neutralized, then I can subsume their minions. If we have a cure for the Psycho condition,

assault, but I’m afraid my father will catch wind of the bunker if I call upon more help,” Livia said. “Fortuna would hold her tongue though. Would the three of us be enough to defeat the

plushie’s inactivity, or maybe not. Shortie would probably help even without her memories, and perhaps Shroud too. “I need to perfect the memory transfer. The

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 on

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

can introduce you to Vulcan,” Livia argued. “I will not ask for the

do a new villain speech if

surprise you again,” she mused,

your family if I swear to play double agent, destroy the Bliss Factory, and sabotage your mob’s

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