同章对照

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 cocked 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.

Ryan couldn’t afford to waste his precious special ammo, as he had only a limited amount. Worse, although the bullets were top-notch quality, the caliber couldn’t pierce the colossus’ carbon shield in all places. The bones below the knee were probably as hard as the skin protecting them, and unlike Lightning Butt, bullets didn’t have enough strength to break them.

The courier would write down ‘adamantine bullets’ on his Christmas list, but in the meantime, he needed to target Adam’s throat and stomach. Ryan wondered how the Psycho’s second power would react to intestinal wounds though.

Well, time to find out.

The courier shot the Psycho in his belly, which was so big that he barely bothered to aim. The bullet tore a hole through the carbon skin as time resumed, but no blood flowed out of the wound. If anything, Ryan noticed air getting sucked into the opening.

The live grenade exploded in a fiery blast of red particles without harming anyone, while Big Fat Adam sprinted at his rival. Ryan had 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 room.

Worse, Ryan quickly realized that the Psycho’s attacks weren’t random at all. Though the courier survived the volley of blows by retreating, he did so by getting closer to the colored vats in the chamber.

Some contained knockoff Elixirs, or substances just as dangerous.

“Say no to drugs, kids,” Ryan replied while raising his gun to counterattack, freezing time to get a better line of fire. But Big Fat Adam quickly covered his head, once again shielding his lone remaining eye.

A doubt crossed Ryan’s mind.

The courier 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 seemed to spread all the way through the gullet.

When time resumed, Ryan had run as far away from the Knockoff vats as possible, while Adam the Ogre quickly pivoted.

“Eight seconds, mate,” the Meta-Gang’s leader said, as he glanced at 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. “Ten if you push it. That’s your limit.”

“How did you know I was a Violet?” Ryan asked, holding the Beretta with one hand and grabbing throwing knives from below his trench coat with the other. “You hadn’t recognized me then.”

“Call it a gut feeling, boyo,” Adam replied, before grabbing the blue liquid vat with both hands, and ripping it off the ground. Cables dangled from the device, spraying the carbon-skinned man with azure, shining liquid. “Takes one to know one.”

Acid Rain.

Adam was like Acid Rain. He could sense Ryan’s power, at least instinctively.

The courier had never dueled the Meta-Gang’s leader for an extended period in the past. Each of them usually fought with back-up, so Ryan never paid his movements full attention. But the way the Psycho covered his vitals whenever the courier attempted to freeze time, or the quickness of his reactions whenever time resumed…

Ryan remembered his first encounter with the big fat president, which ended with the courier backhanded all the way across this very room. He thought the fatass had simply been fast enough to hit him right after his time-stop ended, but now, the courier wondered if Adam actually sensed him.

That bastard! Even after so many loops, he still kept tricks up his sleeve!

Thankfully, unlike Acid Rain, the Fatass didn’t have the reflexes nor teleportation ability to fully exploit that knowledge. Ryan still had the edge, and most importantly, experience.

The Psycho threw the vat at the courier, right as Ryan tossed a knife at his right eye. Adam closed his eyelid and the blade bounced off it, but this gave the courier time to adjust his aim.

His bullet crossed the gap between the two fighters faster than the glass vat did, blowing off Adam’s other eye. Ryan froze time before the vat could hit him and quickly dashed to safety, counting back his ammo.

He still had half left, but he was burning through his reserve faster than the national defense budget.

The vat exploded on the ground on impact, spraying blue liquid and glass shards in all directions. Ryan had escaped to safety by then, but a puddle of liquid spread on the steel ground.

If the drops made it past his clothes and reached the skin beneath…

“You know me, mate,” Adam rasped angrily, before grabbing 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 its horror. “You know how I fight. You move like a dancer rehearsing his show. This isn’t our first rodeo.”

“But it’s gonna be the last,” Ryan replied, before realizing his mistake as the blind Psycho tossed the vat in his direction. He might have been blinded, but he could still hear his foe.

The courier dodged another projectile, but another red puddle joined the blue one, both covering half the chamber’s ground. Adam dragged a heavy flail from his gullet, and swiftly swung it with his right hand.

Realizing he couldn’t keep fighting in this arena without risking 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 to his position.

The Ogre’s 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 it out of the chamber.

Or so he thought.

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

The panicked Ryan glanced at his belly, seeing the tip of an arrow sticking out from his trenchcoat. Crossbow, the courier realized, as he heard footsteps behind him. A crossbow bolt.

“Not so easy without space to run around, huh?” Adam said as he dropped the flail and entered the steel corridor, his head reaching the ceiling. “You’ve been here before.”

His smirk widened, a crossbow bolt sticking out from between his teeth.

“Lived through this before.”

Shit.

Struggling against the pain, Ryan 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. First one, then two, then ten.

Ryan exploited his time-stop to dodge the first volley and back away, but the bolt embedded in his body slowed him down. When time resumed, one of his foe’s projectiles hit him in the right leg below the knee. The courier collapsed on the cold hard ground, the ogre’s footsteps growing ever closer.

“I can smell your fear,” Adam said as he gained ground on the courier. The wounds didn’t slow him 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 it, maybe you could turn it back too?”

Ryan attempted to shoot his foe again, before realizing he had exhausted all his ammo. With one last card up his sleeve, the courier put a hand in his trench coat and grabbed his secret weapon.

Time to see how far your pocket dimension extends, Bibendum, Ryan thought.

“But well, if you could do it all the time, you would have turned the clock by now. And if you fear the substitute so much, then the real deal will hurt even worse.” Adam opened his mouth, the tip of a Blue Elixir’s syringe sticking out from the gullet. “Time to take your medici—”

“Filibuster!” Ryan replied before throwing the triggered A-bomb down Adam’s throat midspeech.

The surprised Adam gulped on instinct, swallowing both the explosive device and his own Blue Elixir. The Psycho covered his mouth with his hands, perhaps trying to vomit out the bomb, but he was too late to make a difference.

Ryan immediately crawled as far away as he could, while the bullet wounds on his foe’s chest and throat started to light up. “Bon appétit,” he said, taking the time to taunt his foe one last time.

“Urgh…” Adam hiccupped, and then breathed atomic fire.

As it turned out, his pocket dimension was large, but not infinite.

The courier barely had the time to dive down as streams of flames erupted from the Psycho’s mouth, nose, and his bullet wounds. They hit the corridor’s ceiling and walls in straight lines, melting the bunker’s steel. Ryan himself used quick bursts of time-stop to position himself out of the fires’ paths.

Like a balloon deflating as air escaped him, the flames’ power tossed Adam the Ogre backward, his body rebounding off the walls. His empty eye sockets unleashed a stream of light, the blood drying up. The air in the corridor heated up by twenty degrees, enough to make Ryan sweat beneath his coat.

And then, the flames died out as quickly as they had spread. Bibendum ended his flight at the corridor’s threshold, right before the vat chamber. When Ryan finally dared to look up at him, the Psycho’s face had turned into a volcanic landscape, his metal skin melting off the charred hole that used to be his skull.

Adam’s pocket dimension had contained most of the explosion, but flames from the blast had traveled up through his gullet, nostrils, and the openings the depleted uranium bullets had created in his belly… cooking his organs from within.

“Spicy dessert, whalie,” Ryan said to Adam’s corpse, as he heard his allies’ footsteps. His vision blurred from the blood loss and the pain, but he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. “Served with Karmic Sauce.”

Adam the Ogre didn’t answer.

The Meta-Gang’s presidential debate had ended in a K.O.

---

Like any good administration, Ryan’s first act in office was to clean up the house.

Though he had to give orders from the infirmary, after expelling the former vice-president. Thankfully, Livia knew exactly what to say to Agent Frank to lead him around, even managing to get the overdosed Psyshock out of his care. She had pretended that she would send him to a special doctor’s care.

A doctor called Cancel.

“Thank God you have a doctorate in medicine,” Ryan said to the Panda as he lay on the operation table, his sidekick surgically extracting the crossbow bolt and quickly patched up the courier’s wounds. Livia sat at her boyfriend’s side all the way through the procedure, holding his hand. “Alongside physics, philosophy, and pretty much everything else.”

“I don’t learn quickly anymore, Sifu, but I remember everything!” the Panda replied while applying bandages. “Does it hurt?“

“I’m a Vietnam vet,” Ryan replied, “I can endure anything.”

“Be careful, phony veterans don’t last long in office,” Livia mused.

“I’ve lived through more wars than chest colds!” Ryan protested, before apologizing to his sidekick for the loss of his Elixir. “I’m sorry that you won’t get two powers this time around. Do you want a cushy job as an apology? Maybe Air Force One?”

He owed the Panda for his victory. The manbear’s fight with Adam in the previous loop had taught Ryan that the Psychos’ leader was vulnerable to internal damage, and thus gave him the idea of using his A-bomb as a deadly main course.

“He might still get a second wish,” Livia said with a wistful smile. “Elixirs are extra-dimensional entities and can resist a great deal of damage. I’ve seen possibilities where we extract it from Adam’s pocket dimension.”

Ryan hoped so. He couldn’t consider this loop a Perfect Run with casualties, and Elixirs were sentient beings too. “How is the situation in the field?” the president asked. “Are the troops behaving?”

“The others are helping Len transport the captive Psychos to underwater habitats,” his First Lady explained. “We’re also giving first aid to the hostages.”

“Any casualties?”

“None,” she said before lightly kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks to you.”

The news came as a relief. Ryan had worked over more than ten loops to save Rust Town from the Meta-Gang, and he had finally succeeded.

Having been warned, both Alchemo and the Carnival would make their way to New Rome. They would conquer the bunker, exploit its resources, and lay the groundwork for its final destruction. At long last, Mechron’s ghost would be put back six feet under and never threaten the world again.

Ryan couldn’t rest on his laurels though. After recovering, he would bring the hammer down on Dynamis, and bury his own past. As for the Augusti…

“What about Geist—” Ryan asked, but an amused Livia pushed her index finger against his lips. “Mmm!”

“Shush, we’ll see to that later,” she said with a tone that broke no disobedience. “Let’s celebrate today’s victory before moving on to tomorrow’s challenge, Ryan. We’ve earned it.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

两位总统走进了同一间房，能活着出去的却只会有一位。

“要不先从枪支政策开始辩论？”瑞恩给贝雷塔手枪上了膛。“然后再谈反恐战争。剧透警告：你会输得很惨。”

“我正想提议谈谈饮食政策呢，小子。”这个活体米其林广告开着阴毒的玩笑，左手仍藏在背后。瑞恩以前经历过这个场面，大致能猜到他藏了什么后手——或者说，藏了谁。“受影响最大的，你排第二。”

他亮出了左手，瑞恩连眼皮都没动一下。

大胖亚当带来了一个人质，和快递员那次自杀式循环时一样。那是个最多十四岁的阿拉伯男孩，恐惧的泪水不断滚落脸颊。他是被绑来的锈镇居民，要被拿去当炮灰，消耗地堡的防御火力。

“虽然我更喜欢法国菜，”亚当狞笑着说，右手也伸了过来，要像捏三明治一样夹住俘虏，“不过吃个烤肉——”

瑞恩飞快地连开三枪，一枪打脸，两枪打左手。

大胖亚当反射性地闭上眼皮，但第一颗子弹击中了巨人的左眼，绕过了碳质皮肤的防护。眼球炸成了一蓬碎片与鲜血，另外两颗子弹则轰掉了这个疯魔的拇指。

猝不及防的亚当痛得发出一声狂吼，手中的受害者从他血淋淋的指间滑落。

“抱歉，死胖子，这笑话你讲过了。”瑞恩冲向坠落的受害者，发动能力。“而且第一次讲的时候就不好笑！”

亚当右手猛地抓向人质，却在离男孩脖子仅几英寸的地方停住了，世界随之染上紫色。瑞恩把这位“落难佳人”接进怀里，立刻踩着太空步向后滑去。

时间刚一恢复，亚当的碳质拳头就砸上金属地面，把钢板打得凹陷下去。

“快跑！”瑞恩扶人质站稳。

“可是——”男孩用一种土耳其语方言开口道，惊吓过度，一时反应不过来。

“沿走廊逃到最近的投票站去，把票箱塞满！”瑞恩用同一种语言喊道，亚当正杀气腾腾地朝他们冲来。“投我一票！”

人质吓得魂不附体，履行不了爱国义务，于是瑞恩决定替他缩减一下投票选项。他开始暂停时间，就在这一刻，食人魔亚当抬起右手护住了脸。

嗯？这时机有点古怪。

不过，瑞恩最喜欢不会动的靶子，照着这个皮肤坚硬的疯魔的左腿连开三枪。一颗子弹被膝盖弹开，另外两颗却在小腿上轰出了窟窿。

“给你介绍一下我的朋友，贫化。”时间恢复，瑞恩说道。亚当踉跄着栽倒在冰冷坚硬的地面上，伸手仍够不着快递员。“姓铀。”

罗马诺总统可不信枪支管制那一套。

瑞恩的总统魅力没能办到的事，对反对党的恐惧却轻松办到了。人质拔腿沿入口走廊狂奔，留下两位美国总统候选人争夺白宫。

“我记得这个声音……”亚当嘶声说着，重新站了起来。尽管小腿受伤，基因者强化后的代谢能力还是让他得以继续战斗。“你是血流家的小崽子。叫切萨雷什么的。来替你爹找我们算账？”

“其实我是来抢你的总统宝座的。”瑞恩一边从左侧绕着巨人移动，一边等待时间暂停的冷却结束。“连你竞选团队里都有人投了我的票！”

“死人没资格投票。”亚当答道，语气里已没了那份虚假的快活。他把下颌张大，将完好的那只手探进去，取出一枚印着梅克隆标志的手雷。“而且你还忘了弃权。”

他启动手雷，朝瑞恩扔了过去。

快递员暂停时间，向左侧猛冲闪避；同一刻，亚当压低身子，摆出了冲刺的架势。

瑞恩浪费不起宝贵的特种弹药，他带的数量有限。更糟的是，虽然子弹品质一流，这种口径却不足以击穿巨人碳质护甲的每一处。膝盖下面的骨头大概和保护它们的皮肤一样坚硬，而子弹又不像闪电屁股，没那么大的劲，打不断它们。

快递员打算在圣诞愿望清单上记下“精金子弹”，不过眼下，他得瞄准亚当的喉咙和肚子。但瑞恩有些好奇，肠子受伤时，这个疯魔的第二种能力会有什么反应？

好吧，是时候找出答案了。

快递员朝疯魔的肚子开了一枪。那肚子大得让他几乎懒得瞄准。时间恢复时，子弹在碳质皮肤上撕开一个洞，伤口却没有流血。恰恰相反，瑞恩注意到空气正被吸进洞里。

启动的手雷炸成一团烈焰，红色粒子四散，却谁也没伤到；大胖亚当则冲向了他的对手。瑞恩不得不向侧面翻滚，躲开一拳，接着又伏低身体，避开第二拳。食人魔的速度和敏捷都远超体型给人的印象，丝毫不给敌人喘息的余地。

更糟的是，瑞恩很快意识到，这个疯魔的攻击绝非随意挥舞。快递员不断后退，虽躲过了密集的拳头，却也离室内那些装着各色液体的储液罐越来越近。

有些罐子里装着仿制灵药，或是同样危险的物质。

“孩子们，要对毒品说不。”瑞恩回敬一句，举枪反击，同时暂停时间，好找一个更合适的射击角度。可大胖亚当迅速护住脑袋，再次挡住了仅剩的那只眼睛。

瑞恩心中闪过一丝疑虑。

快递员又朝静止的亚当的咽喉开了一枪，随即俯身从巨人两腿间钻过。子弹在疯魔喉咙上打出一个洞，却又一次没有血流出来。大胖亚当的肚子里装着一个口袋维度，看来这片空间一直延伸到了咽喉。

时间恢复时，瑞恩已经尽可能跑远，拉开了与仿制灵药罐的距离，而食人魔亚当迅速转过身来。

“八秒，老兄。”超能帮首领看了看瑞恩现在的位置，以及他与原先位置之间的距离。喉咙上的伤让他的声音变得沙哑，但他仍能说话。“拼到头十秒。这就是你的极限。”

“你怎么知道我是紫系？”瑞恩一手握着贝雷塔，另一手从风衣底下摸出飞刀。“那时候你还没认出我。”

“就说是肚子里冒出来的直觉吧，小子。”亚当答道，随即双手抓住装有蓝色液体的储液罐，硬生生从地上拔了起来。电缆从罐体上垂下，发亮的蔚蓝液体喷了这个碳皮人一身。“同类认同类。”

酸雨。

亚当和酸雨一样。他能感知瑞恩的能力，至少本能上可以。

过去，快递员从没和超能帮首领长时间单打独斗过。他们交手时通常各有帮手，因此瑞恩从未全神贯注地留意过他的动作。可这个疯魔每逢快递员试图暂停时间，就会护住要害；每逢时间恢复，他的反应又总是那么快……

瑞恩想起了自己与大胖总统的第一次交锋，那次他被一记反手拍飞，横穿的正是这间房。当时他以为，这死胖子只是速度够快，才能在时间暂停结束的瞬间打中自己。可现在，快递员开始怀疑，亚当是不是真的感知到了他。

这混蛋！这么多轮循环过去了，他居然还藏着一手！

幸好，死胖子不像酸雨，既没有那样的反应速度，也没有瞬移能力，无法充分利用这份感知。瑞恩依然占优，更重要的是，他有经验。

疯魔把储液罐砸向快递员，与此同时，瑞恩朝他的右眼掷出一把飞刀。亚当闭上眼皮，刀刃被弹开，却也因此给了快递员调整瞄准的时间。

子弹比玻璃罐更快地穿过两名战士之间的距离，轰爆了亚当的另一只眼睛。储液罐砸中自己之前，瑞恩暂停时间，飞快冲到安全处，默算剩余弹药。

还剩一半，但他的储备烧得比国防预算还快。

储液罐落地炸裂，蓝色液体和玻璃碎片四处飞溅。瑞恩这时已经逃到安全处，但一摊液体正在钢制地面上蔓延。

要是那些液滴穿过衣服，碰到下面的皮肤……

“你了解我，老兄。”亚当愤怒地嘶声说道，又抓起一个储液罐，这次里面是红色液体。双眼流出的血染红了他的脸。现在他外表的恐怖倒是和内在相称了。“你知道我是怎么打的。你每一步都像排练过的舞者。这不是咱们第一次过招。”

“但会是最后一次。”瑞恩答道，随即就意识到了自己的错误——失明的疯魔已经朝他这边扔出了储液罐。那家伙虽然瞎了，却还听得见敌人的声音。

快递员又躲过一件投掷物，但地上又多了一摊红色液体，和蓝色液体一起覆盖了半间房的地面。亚当从喉咙里拽出一把沉重的链枷，右手飞快地挥舞起来。

瑞恩意识到，继续在这片场地作战，就免不了冒着接触仿制灵药的风险，于是朝出口冲去。靴子踩中一滴液体时发出的声响，暴露了他的位置。

食人魔的链枷直奔瑞恩的脑袋而来，快得让他不得不暂停时间，免得自己变成一幅毕加索。他头也不回地冲进走廊。时间旅行者听见链枷带刺的锤头轰然砸上墙壁，但他已经安全离开了那间房。

至少他是这么以为的。

腰间猛地蹿起一阵剧痛，让他在走廊里踉跄了一下。

瑞恩惊慌地低头看向腹部，一枚箭尖从风衣里透了出来。弩。听见身后传来的脚步声，快递员明白了。是弩箭。

“没地方跑来跑去，就不那么轻松了，是吧？”亚当扔掉链枷，走进钢铁走廊，脑袋直抵天花板。“你以前来过这里。”

他咧嘴笑得更开，一支弩箭从牙缝间探了出来。

“你以前就经历过这一切。”

妈的。

瑞恩强忍疼痛，用贝雷塔开火。他在失明的亚当的喉咙和胸口打出一个个弹孔，疯魔则喷吐弩箭还击。先是一支，然后两支，再然后十支。

瑞恩利用时间暂停躲过第一轮齐射，向后退去，但扎在体内的弩箭拖慢了他的速度。时间恢复后，敌人射来的一支弩箭击中了他右腿膝盖下方。快递员倒在冰冷坚硬的地面上，食人魔的脚步声越来越近。

“我闻得到你的恐惧。”亚当逼近快递员，那些伤口丝毫没有拖慢他的脚步。“在监控里看到你的时候，我就知道不对劲了。你的时机掐得太准，队伍准备得太周全。我就琢磨……既然你对时间的控制强到能让它停下来，或许你也能把它倒回去？”

瑞恩又想开枪，才发现弹药已经耗尽。他还剩最后一张底牌。快递员把手伸进风衣，抓住了自己的秘密武器。

该看看你的口袋维度究竟有多大了，必比登。瑞恩心想。

“不过嘛，要是你随时都能倒转时间，现在早就用了。而且，你既然这么怕仿制品，真货肯定更要命。”亚当张开嘴，装着蓝色灵药的针管尖端从他喉咙里探了出来。“该吃药——”

“阻挠议事！”瑞恩回敬道，趁亚当话说到一半，把已启动的原子弹扔进了他的喉咙。

亚当吃了一惊，本能地咽了一口，把炸弹连同自己的蓝色灵药一起吞了下去。疯魔双手捂住嘴，也许是想把炸弹吐出来，但一切都已经晚了。

瑞恩立刻拼命往远处爬，敌人胸口和喉咙上的弹孔开始发光。“祝你好胃口。”他还不忘抽空最后嘲讽敌人一次。

“呃……”亚当打了个嗝，接着喷出了核爆的烈焰。

事实证明，他的口袋维度虽然很大，却并非无限。

快递员刚来得及趴下，一道道火流便从疯魔的嘴、鼻子和弹孔中喷涌而出。它们笔直地射中走廊的天花板和墙壁，熔化了地堡的钢铁。瑞恩连续短暂地暂停时间，调整位置，避开火焰的路径。

喷焰的推力把食人魔亚当掀得倒飞出去，像一只撒气的气球，身体在墙壁间弹撞。他空洞的眼窝迸射出光芒，鲜血被烤干。走廊里的气温升高了二十度，热得瑞恩在风衣底下直冒汗。

随后，火焰熄灭了，和爆发时一样突然。必比登的飞行终止在走廊口，储液罐室的门前。瑞恩终于敢抬头看他时，疯魔的脸已经变成一片火山地貌，金属皮肤熔化脱落，原本的脑袋只剩下一个焦黑的窟窿。

亚当的口袋维度容纳了爆炸的大部分威力，但爆炸产生的火焰沿着咽喉、鼻孔，以及贫化铀子弹在腹部打出的开口喷涌而出……从内部烤熟了他的器官。

“辣味甜点，小鲸鱼。”瑞恩对亚当的尸体说道，同时听见了同伴们的脚步声。失血和疼痛让他的视线模糊起来，他却还是忍不住兀自轻笑。“配因果报应酱。”

食人魔亚当没有回答。

超能帮的总统辩论以一记击倒告终。

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和任何一届称职的政府一样，瑞恩上任后的第一件事，就是整顿门户。

不过，赶走前任副总统之后，他只能在医务室里发号施令。幸好，莉维娅很清楚该对弗兰克特工说什么，能把他指挥得团团转，甚至成功把吸毒过量的心震从他手里接了过来。她谎称，要把心震交给一位特别的医生照料。

一位名叫消除者的医生。

“谢天谢地，你有医学博士学位。”瑞恩躺在手术台上，对熊猫说道。这位副手用外科手术替他取出弩箭，迅速处理好了伤口。整个过程中，莉维娅始终坐在男友身旁，握着他的手。“还有物理学、哲学，以及基本上所有别的学科。”

“我现在学东西没那么快了，师父，但学过的我全都记得！”熊猫一边缠绷带一边回答。“疼吗？”

“我是越战老兵，”瑞恩回答，“什么都扛得住。”

“当心哦，冒牌老兵在位可长久不了。”莉维娅悠悠说道。

“我打过的仗比犯过的支气管炎还多！”瑞恩抗议道，随后为灵药的损失向副手道歉。“抱歉，这一轮你拿不到两种能力了。想不想要份清闲差事，就当我赔罪？比如空军一号？”

这场胜利得记熊猫一份功劳。上一轮循环中，人熊与亚当的交战让瑞恩明白，这位疯魔首领抵挡不住内部伤害，也因此想到把原子弹当作一道致命的主菜。

“他也许还能许第二个愿望。”莉维娅略带惆怅地笑了笑。“灵药是异维度实体，能抵御很大程度的损伤。我看到过一些可能性，我们能从亚当的口袋维度里把它取出来。”

瑞恩希望如此。要是出现了伤亡，他就不能把这一轮算作完美通关，而灵药也是有意识的生命。“前线情况如何？”总统问道。“部队还听话吗？”

“其他人正在帮蕾恩把俘虏的疯魔运到水下居住舱。”他的第一夫人解释道。“我们也在给人质做急救。”

“有伤亡吗？”

“没有。”她说着，在他脸颊上轻轻一吻。“多亏了你。”

这个消息让瑞恩松了口气。为了把锈镇从超能帮手里救出来，他忙活了十多轮循环，如今终于成功了。

收到警讯后，阿尔凯莫和嘉年华都会赶赴新罗马。他们会拿下地堡，利用其中的资源，为最终将它彻底摧毁打好基础。梅克隆的亡魂终于要被重新埋回六英尺深的地下，再也无法威胁世界。

不过，瑞恩还不能躺在功劳簿上休息。等伤好了，他就要给迪纳米斯迎头痛击，并埋葬自己的过去。至于奥古斯蒂……

“幽魂那边——”瑞恩刚开口，莉维娅便带着笑意，伸出食指抵住了他的嘴唇。“唔！”

“嘘，那个以后再说。”她的语气不容违抗。“先庆祝今天的胜利，再去面对明天的挑战吧，瑞恩。我们值得好好庆祝一下。”

这话他没法反驳。