Chapter 103: Drug Bust (1/2)

It was May 14th in New Rome, and a handsome secret agent flew above the Mediterranean sea.

The wind brushing against his mask and magician's hat, Ryan peeked over his jetpack to look at Vulcan. The Genius was hot on his trail, piloting her slow, bulky mech. “Come on, you aren’t even trying!” the courier taunted his favorite dwarf over the intercom. It was the second round of the race, and she couldn’t catch up to him. “Then again, your mom was so slow, it took her nine months to make a joke!”

“The only slow thing will be your death when I catch up to you!” Vulcan snarled back as she accelerated, her mech thrumming like a supercharged car. Both contestants flew so close to the sea level that they blew water in all directions as they passed.

In spite of her threat though, Ryan maintained a decent lead as they toured Ischia Island; iron walls and wind turbines surrounded the radioactive dump, keeping the toxic purple miasma safely contained. Hidden turrets rose from the shoreline and pointed at the flyers, though their maker prevented them from opening fire at Ryan on sight.

“Why doesn’t your hat fall off?” Vulcan asked.

“It’s magnetized.” It came in handy for someone like Ryan, who favored acrobatics and explosions in his fights. “Also, you’re so slow, you make the post office look efficient!”

“You’re so fast, your girlfriend is always left disappointed.”

Ouch, low bow. This meant war.

“Oh look, a wyvern!” Ryan pointed a finger at an empty spot of water on his left.

To his amusement, Vulcan did cock her head in that direction. “Where?” she asked, before realizing her mistake. “You bastard, you will die for this!”

Ryan laughed, only for Vulcan to actually open fire with a volley of missiles. The courier had to freeze time to dodge them all. “You bastard, you cheated!” his rival complained when time resumed. “We said only tech!”

“I lied!” Ryan cackled like a maniac. “I lied about everything!”

The two contestants finished their tour of the island and came into view of the Castello Aragonese, that old fortress which Augustus refitted into a Bliss Superlab. The powerful stone fortress’s walls oversaw the sea from atop a volcanic islet and a garden of alien plants.

The ghostly skull of Geist appeared for a brief moment above the castle when the racers approached. A tornado of colored dust carried the house-sized apparition, and started strong winds slowing down the contestants.

“Come to see me win?!” Ryan shouted as loud as he could, barely dodging a seagull. Damn bird traffic.

To his surprise, Casper the Ghost apparently listened. “You better,” the specter replied with a casual voice, though it somehow carried across the waves. “I bet on you.”

Huh, so not only could that flying skull manifest anywhere on the island, but it also had sharp senses and could detect people in the area. This ruined Ryan’s original plan, but the courier was nothing if not adaptable.

Geist had bet wisely. For although Vulcan attempted to blast him at the last second with a crimson beam of light, the courier passed over the fortress first.

There was a coming short joke to make, but Ryan was too tall to make it.

“Damn it!” Vulcan snarled. “Damn it, damn it, damn it! Where did you find that jetpack?”

In Mechron’s bunker. “In a cave, in a box of scraps.”

“The princess’ wet cave?”

Damn, news traveled fast.

“I took shelter from a thunderstorm inside,” Ryan said, as they began another turn around the island. “Wait, is tomorrow’s meeting about my execution?”

Tomorrow was the Olympians meeting, which should end up with Zanbato confirmed as the new Mercury. Jamie hadn’t organized a welcome party this time around, perhaps because Ryan had spent most of his time with Livia; and with nothing to distract her, Vulcan had decided to check up on the Bliss Island’s defenses today.

It cost the courier an A-bomb and advanced technology to get into her good graces, but the Genius eventually invited him to participate in the inspection.

Truthfully, Ryan suspected Vulcan wanted to impress him with her technology. She wanted him as a lab assistant, but the courier had defended his independence and maintained a professional distance. Sort of. He assumed jetpack races counted as a team-building activity.

“Could be,” Vulcan replied, still sore over her defeat. “How much to spare your pretty head?”

“An A-bomb?” Ryan haggled. “Bloody or extra crispy?”

“Already got one, and prices are up. I guess you’ll die.”

“If they vote yes, can I die buried in pizzas?” Ryan didn’t think he had died that way yet. At least not with four-cheeses. “Or couscous?”

“I can arrange death by waffles,” Vulcan joked back.

Ryan had missed trading jabs with her. He had thought he would find the inspection agonizing, but to his surprise, he could interact with Vulcan without experiencing depressing flashbacks now. Perhaps it was his newfound desire to move on, or his Elixir’s advice finally sinking in.

Ryan would always cherish his Jasmine’s memories, like all the relationships erased by his power, but he no longer lived in its shadow. And neither did the current Vulcan. He could finally befriend her without comparing her to her past self.

“No seriously, I blow you a chef’s kiss,” Vulcan said, her mech mimicking the gesture. “I didn’t think anyone would be mad enough to make a move on Augustus’ daughter. You won’t live long, but I’ll come to your funeral.”

“Eh, going by Casper the Ghost over here, heaven has a revolving door.” Ryan chuckled. “How did you know?”

Vulcan shrugged. “Some of the staff members saw you kiss Minerva at Venus’ resort, and spread the word. I guess Augustus couldn’t kill the leakers fast enough.”

“I thought paparazzi were an extinct species?”

“Not for a lack of trying, no.” The duo reached the Bliss Superlab again, flying over the outer walls and towards a helicopter platform. Vulcan’s mech caused the entire fortress to shake as it landed, while Ryan crossed his arms and did his best to look good as his feet touched the ground.

When they arrived, armored soldiers were busy boarding a group of three armed helicopters and checking up on their weapons. Bacchus oversaw the operation with his hands behind his back, while young Narcinia waited alongside him while holding a flower bouquet.

Ryan couldn’t resist examining it, and he didn’t recognize half of the plants. Some were roses with petals of multiple colors, others fusions of lilies of the valley and yellow daisies. The colors mixed in a tasteful display for the eyes, and the smell was almost divine.

“You like it, Quicksave?” Narcinia asked him shyly, her brown hair flowing with the ocean wind. Her heart-shaped face was so unlike her adopted family, Ryan wondered why Venus didn’t change it. Perhaps Narcinia’s power interfered with her adoptive mother’s? “I made it for Mom and Dad!”

She should have added some hemlock and nightshade then. “It’s delightful,” Ryan said from the bottom of his heart. “But do they sing?”

“Sing?”

“You can make any form of life from what I heard, so why not flowers that can sing?” Ryan asked mirthfully.

“Make them edible, so you have the full sensory package,” Vulcan snickered, her armor towering over the duo.

“You can’t eat flowers!” Narcinia protested. “But singing flowers… that’s a nice idea. I could have them blow colored fumes while they sing too.” She turned to Bacchus. “What song would you like, Father Torque?”

Andreas Torque, alias Bacchus, turned his gaunt face at his small protégée. His eyes were as black and lifeless as coal, and Ryan had yet to see him blink. One could almost see the bones beneath his priestly garbs. All in all, the man reminded the courier of a walking corpse. “Gregorian chants, to soothe the soul.”

“And Bliss for the fumes, to have a good time?” Vulcan deadpanned. Narcinia bristled a bit at that, clearly not very proud of working on making drugs.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s behind the times,” Ryan told Narcinia. “When in doubt, choose synthwave.”

“I don’t know that music genre,” Narcinia said. The poor naive child.

“I will teach you, and the meaning of life as well,” the courier replied.

“This reminds me, I will not be available for Venus’ dinner,” Bacchus said with his soft, calm voice. “I shall return to Ischia after meeting with our fellow Olympians.”

Narcinia didn’t hide her disappointment. “My mother won’t like it, Father Torque.”

“We are on the verge of a breakthrough, Ceres,” the priest chided her. “Idleness is the enemy of progress. It is not wise to make God wait.”

“Eh, It’s probably vibing in its Blue World,” Ryan said while testing the waters. “It knows you will reach It in time, like It knows everything else.”

That was a pure bluff and speculation, based on the courier’s knowledge of the Ultimate Ones, their dimensions, and what Livia had told him. Yet he hit the mark, for the priest’s head snapped in Ryan’s direction so fast that the courier worried he might break his neck.

“Have you reached Heaven?” Bacchus asked, his black eyes peering into Ryan’s soul. The stare’s sheer intensity might have made a younger man crumble to his feet in penance, but the courier had faced far worse. Still, the priest’s presence made him feel uneasy.

In a way, Bacchus reminded Ryan of Bloodstream. The courier could sense the madness festering beneath the lucidity. “No, but I’m trying to find a way in.”

“So am I,” the priest stated with a hint of enthusiasm. It must have been gratifying to meet someone who validated his beliefs. “I am close.”

“Pray harder,” Vulcan snickered. Clearly, she didn’t think much of the priest’s delusions. “Look, I’m very busy and this security inspection was a waste of my valuable time. Let’s escort you back on the mainland and be done with it.”

“There is no rush,” Bacchus replied calmly, before putting a hand on Narcinia’s shoulder. “Go climb in the helicopter, I will be with you in a minute.”

“Yes, Father Torque,” the young teen nodded, while Vulcan grumbled.

Bacchus took Ryan aside for a short talk, the two walking along the walls of Castle Aragonese. The priest didn’t take his eyes off the courier for one second, examining him with a quizzical look. “Your name is Quicksave, correct?”

“I’m immortal, but don’t tell anyone.”

Andreas Torque observed Ryan without a word, studying him. He was probably trying to remember every tidbit of information he might have had on the courier, but came up short. He would certainly question the other Olympians at the meeting and investigate the time-traveler afterward.

“How did you find your faith?” Bacchus asked. “There must be a fascinating story behind your quest.”

“I have been to Hell before, so I figured I should check out the other place,” Ryan joked.

“A worthwhile goal, but I require a straight answer.”

Ryan could tell this man could smell falsehoods like Luigi, and he didn’t even need a power to do so. “Well, Father…” the courier looked around himself as fearing he would be overhead, before whispering into the priest’s ears. “I have met a local.”