28: Suicide Run

After attacking Ghoul with his car in all his previous restarts, Ryan thought it had grown a little stale.

So this time, he hit the Psycho with a truck instead.

Ryan couldn’t find a Japanese one, but the one he ‘borrowed’ did the job, crashing through the walls and tossing Ghoul against the counter. The courier climbed down from the vehicle, carrying a black cane he had purchased at a shop down the street.

“Ghoul, there are a few things I can’t tolerate. The mass-murder? Eh, I’ve seen worse. The child-abductions? Now it gets my blood boiling. Trashing my car, thrice?” Ryan shook his head. “I can’t let that slide, Ghoul.”

“Who the…” As it turned out, a truck did a lot more damage than a Plymouth Fury. Some of Ghoul’s bones had broken upon impact, and he struggled to get back up. “Who the hell are you?!”

“You see this?” Ryan pointed at his hat. “This is my normal magician’s hat. The happy hat.”

He tossed it away and showed Ghoul a new, black bowler hat.

“This is the war hat.”

Ryan put it on and suddenly looked far more intimidating.

“You know me, Ghoul. I’m a model of mental stability and composure. I’m well-adjusted. But now that I’m wearing my war hat? Oh boy! Oh boy, no more Mr. Nice Guy! I will do great and terrible things today! It’s going to be terrific!”

“What are you—”

Ryan hit Ghoul’s knee with his cane, causing the broken Psycho to fall helplessly on the ground.

“Bartender, a Moloko Plus!” The courier ordered the frightened Renesco, before kicking Ghoul while he was down. “It’s going to sharpen me up for a wild night of mindless property damage!”

Because this restart was going to be an espresso.

Short, but intense.

After paying off the Private Security, Ryan moved to Rust Town and stopped his car in front of Paulie’s place. Ghoul’s head and torso were on the backseat, the courier having tossed the rest in a dumpster. As it turned out, the Psycho had great difficulties channeling his ice power without his arms and lower parts.

Or maybe it was learned helplessness at work.

“I have something to confess,” Ryan said, looking at his captive in the rear-view mirror. “I’ve been feeling down lately. The stuff with Len really weighed on my mind, and I still have a lot of work ahead to make up with her. I was aimless, with no main quest or distraction, nor any clear path ahead. I had no distraction to fend off the boredom and existential dread.”

The helpless skeleton looked at him with a mix of abject terror and confusion.

“But now I’m rested!” Ryan said, turning his head to look at the skeleton dead in the eyes. “I’m pumped! I’m on top of my game again, and I’ve got a new main quest! To give your whole gang a wedgie they will never forget!”

“What are you going to do to me?” the Psycho asked, more and more frightened the longer he listened.

“We’re going on a trip to Happyland, my droog!” Ryan grabbed Ghoul’s skull, bringing him close to his own face. “Happyland!”

“Somebody help!” Ghoul shouted, as loud as he could. “Somebody save me!”

But nobody came.

Ryan stepped out of the car, wielding his cane, and waltzed into Paulie’s place. Since it was the loop’s first day, the Meta-Gang hadn’t pressed the shopkeeper into service yet. He raised his eyes at Quicksave, his gaze turning into a glare upon recognizing him.

“Hey, Paulie my old friend!” Ryan announced his unforgettable presence. “It’s me, Quicksave!”

“You?” The shopkeeper raised his archaic rocket launcher at his future client’s face. “You dare show your face here?”

“Yes, yes, I know we had our differences, but ooh boys, Paulie, do I have a deal for you!”

Ryan slammed the ground with the tip of his cane.

“How much for that facehugger missile?”

As it turned out, when Paulie learned what Ryan had planned, he gave away the rocket launcher for free.

It took thirty minutes for the courier to prepare. It wasn’t the first time he did a suicide run, so it was a well-oiled routine, but he only tried that kind of stunt when he didn’t risk facing a Genome capable of permanently killing him. While Psyshock was dangerous, the courier was confident he could take the maniac out, or kill himself before being brainjacked. From the intelligence he had gathered over the previous restarts, the Meta didn’t have anyone else capable of threatening future loops.

As far as Ryan knew, the circumstances were right, especially if he could take out Acid Rain early. Since the Meta had struggled to organize a counterattack when three hundred foot-soldiers had invaded their territory, then logically, they shouldn’t expect a lone wolf.

After all, who would be mad enough to attack them head-on with no back-up, and no chance of survival?

“Don’t tell anyone,” Ryan said, driving straight for the Junkyard with his trench coat closed to hide the surprise underneath. The rocket launcher waited on the seat next to him, alongside two submachine guns, and the courier had put the Fisty Brothers gauntlets on his hands. “But I’m immortal.”

Chained to the car hood, Ghoul let out a shriek of horror, as the courier drove through the streets of Rust Town at full speed.

Besides avenging the three times the Meta trashed his car—no score was too small to settle—Ryan thought they simply deserved to be wiped out. They kidnapped children, including orphans under Len’s distant care, enslaved civilians, murdered people without provocation, and just made the world a worse place to live in. While neither Dynamis nor the Augusti were perfect, some of their members were good people.

The courier couldn’t say the same for the Meta.

It was the last loop that settled it. These Psychos were simply too dangerous to be left alone, and Ryan needed to check on that famous bunker for himself. Stealth was a lost cause, from what Shroud had told him, and the Meta-Gang would quickly organize a defense if a large group moved into their territory. A lone wolf suicide attack, fast and unpredictable, seemed more likely to succeed in gathering intelligence.

As he approached the junkyard, Ryan briefly raised his mask to consume red pills. They were doses of Rampage, a Genius-designed, combat-enhancing drug. It boosted pain tolerance, reaction time, accelerated the production of adrenaline, and hastened the metabolism for four hours. It was powerful enough to affect even Genomes.

Well, afterward the drug made the user vomit for days and increased the risk of strokes, which was why Ryan never took it during normal runs. Thankfully, that wouldn’t be a problem for this one.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

After passing the dilapidated neighborhood without being interrupted, Ryan finally came into view of the Junkyard. Stacks of cars, piles of trash, and cranes overshadowed a three meters-tall fence topped with barbed wires. The metallic items seemed organized into hills of various sizes, with the biggest one at the center.

Two Psychos protected the entry point in the fence. One was some kind of humanoid lizard, two-meters tall, with scales of various colors. The other was a pale woman, whose whole body, from her long hair to her creased face, were as white as milk; her shadow, however, was that of a monstrous, demonic creature. Ryan identified the woman as Gemini but didn’t recognize lizard-boy.

“Ghoul?!” Lizard-boy shouted upon seeing the car approach, his yellow, reptilian eyes widening upon realization.

In response, Ryan screamed like a berserker and accelerated. “Valhalla!”