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

as much as my car,” Ryan replied. That old machine had been at

“Mr. Wave apologizes for not visiting your underwater

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

Red

are getting medical attention as we speak,” Stitch said. “Alchemo is enthusiastic about repairing the brain damage they suffered, and early test

of Mosquito’s 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

recognize

had reverted to their natural brown color, and a black tuft of hair had started growing back on his head. He

number; for the insect had turned into a man. A small, pudgy man in his early forties, with brown skin and a beardless face. He

without a Psycho mutation, Mosquito could revert back and forth between his

kitchen counter, a bright smile on his face. He looked happy, like a cancer patient having made a miracle recovery. In

They looked so... normal.

importantly, they had done

had cured two

this?” Ryan asked. Miss Gasshole was growing impatient about getting a treatment, especially since Alchemo

doctor was suddenly far less enthusiastic. “Curing Psychos who gained their 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, the true Elixir takes

that of Frank the Mad—or Vladimir the Russian, depending on who you asked. The metal giant spent his time glancing at the

is even possible,” Stitch explained. “I heard of a White Genome among the Augusti who could

colored dimension,” Ryan said.

problem with the cure?” Len

on a different level. If one of my plagues modifies a target’s DNA, even using the Neanderthal gene ratio you believe

‘mistake’ in the bonding process, they will see any DNA modification of their host as an outside influence

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

difficult. Their consciousness wasn’t hosted in a brain,

suggested. This was his best guess, from what he had learned so

expertise, let alone my peers Alchemo and Dr. Tyrano. Mechron’s database has a wealth of information on

process,” Ryan said. “I know a place

eagerness. “I was skeptical at first about this project, but now I believe we are close to a great discovery. If we can negate the dangerous side-effects of Elixirs, then

saw no reason to deny him. “Sure,

the warmth, he’s a one-man global warming,” Mr. Wave said in

looked at

my specialty,” Len replied in the negative. “I pushed my power’s limits with the transfer machine,

prepare for our winter vacations,” Ryan said. “Can you outfit the submarine

She looked rather eager to leave New Rome. “Do we have

surface altogether. She would have asked to go

a lot of effort, but she was starting to live

came, Ryan picked up Livia at Mount Augustus by

three stories tall, and made of grey

doormen in fancy clothes

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

a Meta-Gang member, to act as his decoy. By using his powers to pose as the courier, the Psycho had provided him with a foolproof alibi. As far as the Augusti were concerned, Ryan had gambled colossal sums

would explode in his blood if he misbehaved. It was Mechron’s version of an

had chosen to wear a black turtleneck and pants, as if she

a

car near the fountain. Sparrow and Mortimer did the same with their motorcycles. The former stayed near the Plymouth Fury, and the latter exchanged words with the doorsmen to check up on the

her pocket and wordlessly showed Ryan

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

still looking

as she switched out her phone. “If we were married, it

struck you as

before rolling

my mind.” This time it

pours,” Livia lamented, a smile on her

on, I can see you

said, wounding his sensitive heart, “but so

looked at the building. “So what’s the plan to get Narcinia out of her parents’ claws? They won’t let her out of sight after the loss of

idea 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

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

she said, looking away. “I

a few days ago?” Ryan asked, his girlfriend nodding hesitantly. “Then I will strike the

inside,” she warned. “It will

Bliss Factory’s systems, he could

will react

won’t give him

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