The Perfect Run

As per the name, the Bakuto was a Japan-themed casino.
Having parked his car nearby, Ryan glanced up at the building with amazement.
The architects had recreated a perfect copy of an oriental pagoda tower, as large
as a mall; ared carpet led to golden, ostentatious tori gates with the casino’s title
plastered on them. Hordes of gamblers walked inside, some dressed in
traditional Asian clothes like gipao, others in tuxedos and expensive gowns. Of
course, none were as stylish as Quicksave’s own fabulous outfit, but the Genome
gave them points for trying.
The staff had even dressed the bouncers as samurai in low-grade, Genius-made
armor. They looked almost like feudal armor, but heavier and bound by flexible
circuits instead of clothing fabric. Very nice design, especially the stained glass
visor. Ryan wondered if they had lightsabers to go along with it.
“No weapons allowed inside,” one bouncer said, as he and a compatriot checked
Ryan out. Due to their armor, both were at least one head taller than the
Genome. They immediately found the throwing knives hidden in his sleeves, and
then examined him very thoroughly.
It took them a few minutes to find most of his stuff.
“Twenty-five throwing knives, two revolvers, including one desert eagle, one
energy pistol, one frag grenade, a switchblade, a hand buzzer, and...” The
bouncer frowned, seizing a tiny metal sphere the size of a baseball. “Is that a
bomb?
“Yep,” Ryan answered. “Genius tech.”
“EMP? Gunpowder?”
“Thermo-nuclear.”
The bouncer chuckled heartily until he realized Ryan was serious. He then
exchanged a glance with his fellow guards, all of them put their hands on a saber
around their belts.
“You keep an A-bomb in your back pocket?” The guard wagged the device at
Ryan's face.
“It's only for dissuasion!” the courier promised while crossing his fingers. “I Korea
swear!”
The bouncer remained silent a moment, then touched his helmet and hushed
words which Ryan couldn't hear. No doubt he was contacting his manager.
“You can get your... stuff back after you're done,” the bouncer declared, putting
his weapons in a bag. “But one wrong move and that bomb will find its way in
another A-place. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Ryan replied as he waltzed into the casino like a child.
He immediately found himself walking through a corridor of pachinkos, those
strange Japanese slot machines; gamblers toiled on them, enslaved by their
otherworldly power. The sight reminded Ryan of the four loops he spent addicted
to these machines, before getting bored.
Ah, the nostalgia.
A few steps later, Ryan entered the main gambling hall, mixing both Japanese art
design and western gambling entertainment. Roulette wheels stood side by side
with blackjack tables, and they even had an arena for sumo wrestling next to a
sushi bar. An elevator at the center led to the higher floors, each probably
catering to different tastes.
A giant screen above the sushi bar showed a promotional image of New Rome's
colosseum, and a T-rex roaring on its grounds, under the acclaim of the crowd. A
voice over hyped up the competition.
“This mutant dinosaur has been cloned from ancient times and improved to fight
at Colosseum Maximus! MAXIMUS! And if dinosaurs won't do it, our robots will!"
The screen changed from the picture of a Jurassic Park ad to a humanoid mecha
straight out of an old Japanese cartoon. “Coming straight out of our weapon
development program, Dynamis introduces you to the Megafighter Mark II!
Meant to fight the deadliest Psychos and marauders, this killing machine will
keep you on your toes! Will any contestant get the better of these bloodthirsty
monsters? You will see it in tonight's episode of Colosseum... MAXIMUS! Only at
Dynamis!”
Ryan noticed a smaller screen showing the odds, people betting either which
contestants would survive, or if the T-rex would eat them all on the first round.
For some obscure reason, most betted on an overwhelming dinosaur victory.
Ryan wandered towards the roulette near the sushi bar and immediately started
placing bets, throwing stacks of euro bills on the table.
“Quicksave?” a man asked Ryan, the clinking of his outfit announcing his
presence long before he called out to the courier.
This guy also wore samurai armor, but one blue and far sleeker, almost skintight.
Instead of a faceless glass visor, his helmet took the shape of a black demon
mask, allowing Ryan to see the black eyes and mouth below. The bouncers
nodded at him in respect, and quite a few people gave the man a wide berth.
Yeah, clearly a Genome.
“Yes?” Ryan asked, feigning innocence.
“You don't have precognition right, I hope?” the man asked, crossing his arms.
“Because I will have to kick you out if you do. We don't allow Blue Genomes to
play.”
“Precognition?” the courier shook his head. “Naaaah, of course not. I'm as Violet
as they come.”
Genomes were classified depending on the color of the elixir which gave them
their power. Blue focused on information manipulation, from precognition to
infohazards, while Violet had spacetime-related abilities.
“Then you can't peer into alternate timelines or a cheat like that?" samurai-guy
asked. “Or rewind time and send information to your past self?"
“But if I can rewind time and erase this conversation so it never happened, do
you even exist right now? Or are you a mere simulation of my feverish mind?”
Samurai-guy simply decided to watch, trying to make sense of the terrible
existential conundrum Quicksave just threw at his face.
In the end, the courier blew thirty thousand bucks, but he had memorized the
roulette numbers and the victorious gladiators’ names for a later loop. Strangely,
while the dinosaur won, one firecracker had managed to survive all the way to
the end.
“Alright, you definitely aren't a seer,” samurai-guy said, having acted as Ryan's
chaperone during his entire gambling spree. “I think you should slow down
though. At this point, you're pretty much burning money.”
“I'm sorry, what's your name?” Ryan ended up asking his mysterious samurai
overseer.
“I'm Zanbato. I'm an Augusti.”
“Are you Japanese? Because you don't sound Japanese.”
“No,” he replied, a bit confused by the question. “I'm Italian.”
“Your supervillain name is Zanbato, but you're not Japanese?” Goddamn
counterfeit.
“I'm not a supervillain,” the man protested, clearly missing the point. “My girlfriend
is Korean though.”
“You have a girlfriend?” Ryan gasped. “That's wonderful!”
“Thanks,” the man replied with a smile. “I hope to marry her soon. I'm curious,
why did you come to us? I heard Wyvern made you an offer too.”
“You guys won the coin toss,” Ryan replied bluntly.
Zanbato chuckled, rather amused. He quickly invaded Quicksave’s personal
space by putting a hand on his shoulder. “I'm buying you a drink.”
The samurai-wannabe invited Ryan to the sushi bar, taking a beer while Ryan
ordered tea. Bouncers formed a security perimeter around them, to allow them
some privacy.
“Ghoul escaped,” Zanbato told Quicksave. “A mole in the Private Security told us
his pals bust him out, probably with inside help. And knowing that maniac, he will
be on your trail shortly. I thought you should know.”
Ryan gasped, promising to inform Wyvern that Ghoul’s friends would bust him
out on his next save. “Are you telling me that Private Security is corrupt? I would
never have known!”
“The grunts are underpaid, so some are... open to negotiation. Their elite
squads, especially those working for Dynamis’ executives, not so much.” Zanbato
sipped his beer. “We know you have a pretty powerful ability, but you did good in
approaching us. Safety in numbers I always say.”
“You know I'm immortal?” Ryan asked. “But I didn't tell anyone!”
“You're immortal?” Zanbato raised an eyebrow. “You can't die?”
“I think I can, but I never succeeded.”
Zanbato paused, unsure how to answer. “Well, we know you can stop time for an
unknown duration as your main power,” the man said. “Now what do you know
about us?”
“That you are the biggest supervillain organization in Italy, and that your boss is
invincible.”
“We are not...” Zanbato sighed. “We are a family and profit-minded society, men
and women of honor. Not supervillains. That's what Il Migliore labels us as
because we aren't corporate sellouts, and we build houses, churches, and
hospitals for the poor. We are good for the community.”
“Your drugs are good for the heart too,” Ryan deadpanned. “But your weapons
are better.”
“It's not illegal,” Zanbato replied, which was true since there wasn't a true
government nowadays. “We have to fund ourselves. I'm telling you, where we
rule, things are peaceful, people feel safe. There's no pillager taking your stuff,
no Psychos running around. When Augustus takes over Italy, and he will, you
won't recognize our country. It will be like before the Wars.”
The man sounded like he really believed it too. He seemed a bit young to rant
about the “good old days’ though.
“Oh, also, do you have anything child related?” Ryan asked. “Because I'm pretty
flexible, but if I find you do anything reprehensible to teens and below, then we're
going to have a problem.”
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) . :
Zanbato's mouth twisted into an
. . “
expression of absolute disgust. “We
) : : a,
don't even sell oe he!
> a“ fb A &
NN We aneN'tsavages. Not like the
Meta. Anyway, do you know how we
work as an organization? Because if
you want to join us, you will have to
« » 3
bend to the hierarchy.” The content is
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“I'm more of a free spirit kind of guy,” Ryan said. “I'm just looking for help in
finding a friend.”
“Oh?” this seemed to surprise the Genome. He must have thought Ryan a
money-only kind of guy. “Whom?”
“Her name is Len. Black hair, blue eyes, Marxist-Leninist.”
“Do you have a photo?” Ryan shook his head. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“No, just my best friend. Been looking for her for years, until a client tried to pay
me in tech she made. He said it came from New Rome.”
“Tech. She's a Genius?” Zanbato finished his beer, mulling over that information.
“Okay, look, if she’s what matters to you, then we'll help you find her. Favor for a
favor.”
Ryan could live with that. Once he had the information, he could always start a
new loop and go to Len directly, without having to put a horse's head in
someone's bed. “What favor?”
“We need muscle,” Zanbato said. “New Rome has a new problem called the
Meta-Gang. They're all Psychos.”
“I know them,” Ryan replied. “Had a skirmish with them years ago, back when
they were small fries.”
Ghoul hadn't joined then, but they were already vicious assholes.
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Not that Ryan could blame them. The
)
human body wasn't made to handle
more than one Elixir, even knockoffs.
The combination of ie POWesS
made the genetic kd ristable,
ububly driving the recipient mad.
Sure, they gained an additional
ability—nobody ever developed more
than two as far as Ryan knew—but
needed periodical injections of Elixirs
to stabilize their body. These
Genome mutants had the
well-deserved nickname of Psychos.
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You would think people knew better. But the thought of exceptional cases like
Augustus, who gained two obscene powers with no ill-effects, always drove fools
to try their luck.
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« s Y
Long short story, these junkies
started moving into our turf recently,

f f »
especially the north neig hborhoads,
Zanbato al lai ned, Hs(sholits erupted
behind Mert. Ryan glanced behind
him, noticing a new Colosseum battle

u«

had begun on TV. “They attacked our

qn
guys, we hit “em back, and now they
assault our associates and suppliers

: » :

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chapter there!
“Can't you..." Ryan mimicked a beheading motion. “You know..."
“Yes we can, but for now they're just an annoying nuisance and the bosses want
our best men to focus on more important matters.” Zanbato asked for another
beer. “So what do you say? Help us beat up some mutants, get your girl?”
“Oooh, business.” Ryan joined his hands. “How many?"
“How many what?
“How many casualties?”