The Perfect Run

Two presidents had walked into a room, and only one would escape it alive.

“How about we start this debate with gun politics?” Ryan said, as he clocked his Beretta. “Then we can move on to the War on Terror. Spoiler warning: you’re going to lose it hard.”

“I was about to suggest dietary policies, Laddie,” the living Michelin ad replied with pitch-black humor, as he kept his left hand hidden behind his back. Having lived through this situation before, Ryan had a pretty good idea of what, or rather who, he kept in reserve. “You’ll be the second person most concerned.”

He revealed his left hand, and Ryan didn’t flinch.

Big Fat Adam had brought a hostage, as he did during the courier’s suicide run. An Arab boy no older than fourteen, with tears of terror raining down his cheeks. A Rust Town denizen kidnapped to serve as cannon-fodder against the bunker’s defenses.

“And though I prefer to eat French,” Adam said with a vicious smirk, moving his right hand to hold his prisoner like a sandwich, “I can settle for a keb—”

Ryan swiftly shot him thrice, once in the face, and twice in the left hand.

Big Fat Adam closed his eyelids on reflex, but the first bullet impacted on the giant’s left eye and bypassed the carbon skin. The ocular organ exploded into a rain of shrapnel and blood, while the other bullets blew off the Psycho’s thumb.

The surprised Adam let out a roar of pain and agony, and his victim slipped through his bloodied fingers.

“Sorry, fatass, you made that joke before,” Ryan said as he rushed toward the falling victim and activated his power. “And it wasn’t funny the first time either!”

Adam’s right hand lunged to grab his hostage, but stopped inches away from his neck as the world turned purple. Ryan caught his ‘damsel-in-distress’ in his arms, and immediately moonwalked in the opposite direction.

No sooner did time resume than Adam’s carbon fist hit the metal ground, bending the steel.

“Run!” Ryan said, as he helped the hostage stand on his feet.

“But—” he started to speak in a Turkish dialect, too shocked to react.

“Escape through the corridor to the nearest voting booth, and stuff these ballots!” Ryan shouted in the same tongue, while Adam rushed at them with murderous fury. “Vote for me!”

The hostage was too shaken to do his patriotic duty, so Ryan decided to narrow his voting options. He began to freeze time, right as Adam the Ogre protected his face with his right hand.

Huh? Odd timing.

But still, Ryan loved immobile targets, and shot the hardened Psycho in the left leg thrice. One bullet bounced off his knee, but the others blasted holes in the calf.

“Let me introduce you to my friend, Depleted.” Ryan said as time resumed. Adam stumbled on the cold hard ground, and the courier was still out of his hand’s reach. “Family name Uranium.”

President Romano did not believe in gun control.

Where Ryan’s presidential charisma failed, the fear of the opposition worked like a charm. The hostage ran as fast as he could through the entrance corridor, leaving the two POTUS candidates to fight for the White House.

“I remember that voice…” Adam rasped as he rose back to his feet. In spite of the calf wounds, his enhanced Genome metabolism allowed him to carry on. “You’re Bloodstream’s kid. Cesare something. You’re here to settle Daddy’s score with us?”

“Actually, I’m here to take your presidential office for myself,” Ryan said, as he circled the giant from the left and waited for his time-stop’s cooldown to end. “Even people in your campaign staff voted for me!”

“The dead don’t get to vote,” Adam replied, although without any false joviality. His jaw extended as he put his unharmed hand through, and he brought out a grenade with Mechron’s symbol on it. “And you’re forgetting abstention.”

He activated the bomb and tossed it at Ryan.

The courier froze time and dashed to the left side to dodge, while Adam lowered himself as if to sprint.

as he had only a limited amount. Worse, although the bullets were top-notch quality, the caliber couldn’t piece the colossus’ carbon shield in all places. The bones below the knee were probably as hard as the

his Christmas list, but in the meantime, he needed to target Adam’s throat and stomach. Ryan wondered

to

hole through

to roll to the side to avoid a punch, then lower himself to avoid a second. The ogre moved with greater speed and agility than his size would suggest, giving his foe no breathing

courier survived the volley of blows by retreating, he did so by getting closer to the colored vats

contained knockoff Elixirs, or substances

while raising his gun to counterattack, freezing time to get a better line

crossed

fired another bullet in the frozen Adam’s gullet, before diving down between the giant’s legs. The shot opened a hole in the Psycho’s throat, but once again no blood flowed out. Big Fat Adam held a pocket dimension in his innards, but it

resumed, Ryan had ran away as far from the Knockoff vats as

the distance between Ryan’s current spot and his previous one. His voice had turned raspy from the throat wound, but he could still speak.

hand and

vat with both hands, and ripping it off the ground. Cables dangled from the device, spraying the carbon-skinned man with azure, shining liquid.

Acid Rain.

He could sense

them usually fought with back-up, so Ryan never paid his movements full attention. But the way the Psycho covered his vitals

He thought the fatass had simply been fast enough to hit

after so many loops, he still

have the reflexes nor teleportation ability to fully exploit that knowledge. Ryan still had the

his right eye. Adam closed his eyelid and the blade bounced off it, but

fighters faster than the glass vat did, blowing off Adam’s other eye.

he was burning through

all directions. Ryan had escaped to safety by then, but

past his clothes and reached

another liquid vat, red this time. His face had turned red from the blood flowing from his eyes. If anything, the outside now matched the inside in

blind Psycho tossed the vat in his direction. He might

projectile, but another red puddle joined the blue one, both covering half the chamber’s ground. Adam dragged a

getting exposed to the Knockoffs, Ryan dashed towards the chamber’s exit. His boots made a sound while he walked on a drop of liquid, alerting Adam

flail lunged for Ryan’s head so fast that the courier had to stop time to avoid becoming a Picasso picture, rushing into the corridor without looking back. The time-traveler heard the flail’s spiked head hit a wall with a devastating impact, but he had safely made

Or so he thought.

sharp pain raced across his waist, making him stumble inside the

an arrow sticking out from his

the flail

bolt sticking out

“Lived through this before.”

Shit.

opened fire with the Beretta. He blew holes in the blind Adam’s throat and chest, while the Psycho responded by spitting out a volley of crossbow bolts.

bolt embedded in his body slowed him down. When time resumed, one of his foe’s projectiles hit him in

down at all. “I knew something was up when I watched you on the cams. Your timing was too perfect, your team too well-prepared. And then I wondered… if you can control time enough to stop

all his ammo. With one last card up his sleeve,

see how far your pocket

now. And if you fear the substitute so much, then the real deal

before throwing the triggered A-bomb down Adam’s throat

device and his own Blue Elixir. The Psycho covered his mouth with his hands, perhaps trying to vomit out the bomb, but

away as he could, while the bullet wounds on his foe’s chest and throat started to light up. “Bon