The Perfect Run

Bacchus returned to his factory to find it in ruins.

The face he made upon seeing his base burning would forever remain one of Ryan’s most cherished memories. Such a subtle mix of disbelief, anger, horror… the priest had clenched his jaw so tightly that the courier worried he might break his teeth.

Augustus’ reaction had been far less amusing though.

After landing on the island to see things for himself and hearing reports of the Carnival’s involvement, the mob boss had decimated a tenth of the surviving guards. Literally. He picked one out of ten at random, and had their peers beat them to death.

With their bare hands.

Though Ryan watched the whole show from the safety of Len’s underwater base, a spy bathysphere providing a living feed, the scene had sent chills down his spine.

The courier feared for Vulcan’s life in particular. She had been in charge of maintaining the defensive perimeter which the strike team easily dealt with, and Mob Zeus was clearly out for blood. The Genius was too precious to kill, but Augustus didn’t strike Ryan as the most rational person in the room.

“I kinda feel bad for these mooks,” Ryan said, as the video feed cut.

“They deserved it,” Len replied at his side, typing on her workshop’s computer. Servers thrummed next to steampunk-ish metal pipes, a song of steam and heat. “They were protecting a slaughterhouse, Riri.”

“I agree, but getting beaten to death by your own teammates is a ghastly way to die.” More to the point, it gave a taste of what Augustus would do to Ryan’s friends if he ever learned of their involvement. “Can you evacuate the base in short order if needed? I have the feeling Lightning Butt might pay it a visit in the near future.”

“I can move the habitats if I am forewarned,” his best friend replied. “They were, uh, designed to be self-sufficient. Each of them. If I disassemble them, they can move around independently.”

“Tiny islands of communism in a capitalistic sea… did you call it the Cuba Protocol?”

Len looked up from her computer, her beautiful eyes reeking of guilt.

“You did,” Ryan said, horrified.

“The Cuba Initiative,” she said, weakly.

Ryan studied his poor deluded accomplice, only for his eyes to wander to her clothes. While the time-traveler kept the Saturn armor on, Len had made herself comfortable in her lair; yet instead of her usual jumpsuit, she now wore a pair of blue overalls and a white shirt. The ensemble reminded the courier of these USSR worker ads.

“Riri?”

“Are these new clothes?” Ryan asked, never remembering them from the half a dozen or so loops they spent together.

“Yes.” She blushed a little, intimidated. “Alchemo’s treatment is good for my mood, and I… I thought I should try something else. Something brighter.”

“As long as you don’t wear red,” Ryan mused.

Len looked away. “I… I don’t want to do so. I’ve seen enough red for a lifetime.”

Ryan suddenly wondered if her obsession with communist iconography hadn’t been a subconscious attempt to keep her father’s memory alive. Though that sounded a bit too far-fetched and Freudian for him. “Have you pondered Bloodstream’s situation?” he asked. He knew what needed to be done, but she had to accept it.

“I did,” Len replied with a nod, her gaze harshening. “If… if the treatment we’re developing to cure Psychos doesn’t work on him…”

She took a long, heavy breath.

“If it doesn’t work,” Len said, with an air of finality. “I will do it myself.”

She would euthanize her father.

“Are you sure?” Ryan asked, mindful of her wellbeing. This would be a horrifying ordeal for anyone. “I can do it for you.”

“No, Riri. You already did a lot of things on my behalf. It’s… it’s my duty. My choice. He’s… my father’s memory. He deserves that much.”

“You will carry this pain all your life.”

“I know,” Len replied, her gaze determined. “I know. But I will still do it. I have to.”

It took a while, but she had finally decided to break out of her father’s shadow. To bury his ghost, if the man inside was gone for good.

Ryan put a hand on her shoulder in sympathy, making her smile sadly. “Thanks, Riri,” she said, putting her own hand over his own. He could have sworn he could sense the heat through the metal gauntlet. “I… I know I’m difficult. A wreck. Most wouldn’t have had your patience. Wouldn’t have stayed so long to help.”

“We’re both sinking ships,” Ryan said. “Gotta stick together, if we want to stay afloat.”

“We were sinking ships,” she replied, removing her hand. “We were.”

The workshop’s computer bleeped, as Len received a call from the Mechron bunker. The picture of Stitch appeared on the screen, with Mr. Wave petting Eugène-Henry in the background. “Greetings, sir,” the plague doctor said. “It has reached my ears that the raid was a success.”

“Mr. Wave likes this cozy place,” Mr. Wave said in the background, Eugène-Henry meowing his hands. “But Mr. Wave feels his portrait is missing somewhere.”

“I keep a poster in my room,” Ryan said. “I also have the Mr. Wave doll, the Mr. Wave ring, and the Mr. Wave hat.”

Mr. Wave-themed candy trucks

I like you, but not as much as my car,” Ryan replied. That old machine had been at his side

loves his car,” the superhero said. “Mr. Wave apologizes for not visiting your underwater base. Mr. Wave doesn’t like being

do well in underwater situations,” Stitch mused. “As our fight with the Kraken gang

the Red Genome protested. “He

we speak,” Stitch said. “Alchemo is enthusiastic about repairing the brain damage they suffered, and

Mongrel’s underwater habitats appeared on the screen. Knockoffs had turned each of them into Psychos in combination with a true Elixir, and both had received

didn’t recognize

black tuft of hair had started growing back on his head. He remained scrawny as ever, but his posture

A small,

Psycho mutation, Mosquito could revert back and forth

He looked happy, like a cancer patient having made a miracle recovery. In contrast, Mosquito was reading a book

They looked so... normal.

they

had cured

especially since Alchemo

powers from Knockoffs is currently possible, since our vaccine destroys the Bloodstream particles in their circulatory system and reverses the genetic damage. As illustrated by Mosquito’s cases,

on who you asked. The metal giant spent his time glancing at the abyss beyond his

Stitch

dimension,” Ryan said. “She doesn’t

problem with the

use DNA to exchange information,” Stitch explained. “They can understand and modify it, like a painter and a canvas, but they work on a different level. If one of my plagues modifies a target’s DNA, even using the Neanderthal gene ratio you believe is

their ‘mistake’ in the bonding process, they will see

exactly. The problem is even greater with Psychos with abnormal, non-DNA-based biologies, such as your friend Sarin, Frank, or Gemini. Their bodies are made of gas, metal, or shadows, not flesh. My own power is clueless about how to

transfer difficult. Their consciousness wasn’t hosted in a brain, to the point Alchemo struggled to transfer

information?” Ryan suggested. This was his best guess, from what

peers Alchemo and Dr. Tyrano. Mechron’s database has a wealth of information on the matter, but nowhere near enough. It took its AIs years to

process,” Ryan said. “I know a place where we could learn more

skeptical at first about this project, but now I believe

“Sure, but you should trade your gloves

a one-man global warming,” Mr. Wave said in the background, as Len stopped

looked at his best friend. “Any way you can help with

my power’s limits with the transfer machine,

Ryan said. “Can you outfit

leave New Rome. “Do we have time to stop at the Canary Islands on

asked to go to Antarctica without delay, refusing to take

a lot of effort, but she was starting to live

Ryan picked up Livia at Mount Augustus

to Mount Augustus. The mansion was three stories tall, and made of grey stone

though, with a fountain in the garden and doormen in fancy clothes awaiting guests. Ryan noticed a few vehicles near the entrance,

decided to increase security around Narcinia, and Lightning Butt's daughter too. When Ryan came to pick his girlfriend, Mortimer and Sparrow had escorted them all the way to their destination on motorcycles. For a moment, the time traveler felt like a president again, with bodyguards ready to die for his safety. Or at least his First

the Psycho had provided him with a foolproof alibi. As far as the Augusti were concerned, Ryan had gambled colossal sums of money at their

had infected him with nanites that would explode in his blood if he misbehaved. It was Mechron’s

yet elegant. Meanwhile, Livia had chosen to wear a black turtleneck and pants, as if she went to a funeral rather than a dinner. Which in this case wasn’t that far from the

girlfriend hadn’t said a word

the fountain. Sparrow and Mortimer did the same with their motorcycles. The former stayed near the Plymouth Fury, and the latter exchanged words

a mobile phone out of her pocket and wordlessly showed Ryan the

a picture her boyfriend sent her after destroying the Bliss Factory. The courier posed in front of the fortress’ smoking rubble, thumb

looking for that

was terrible,” Livia said, as she switched out her phone. “If we were married, it would be

joke struck

She paused, before rolling

crossed my mind.” This time it made her giggle. “I guess I didn’t spend enough

rains, it pours,” Livia lamented, a smile on her

can see you

wounding his sensitive heart, “but so bad

looked at the building. “So what’s the plan to get Narcinia out of her parents’

in mind, but I need a little more time to refine it,” Livia said. “Whenever your actions have a large impact, it takes me a while to see the ripples

“Bacchus kept test subjects in the factory’s basement,” he informed her. “One of them

looking away.

“Then I will strike the factory as soon as the Meta-Gang is dealt with

Bacchus will be inside,” she warned. “It

manage.” Now that he could destroy Geist and had access to the Bliss Factory’s systems, he could easily shatter

will

won’t give him

and locked eyes with her boyfriend. “You intend to fight him,” she said, her voice