They were going Sixty on a Forty Five. Wheels of an old 2020 Dodge Ram driving down an old paved forest road. Every pothole hit, and there were many, sent the two occupants jostling in their grey nylon seats. The current driver had set the upright position of the car seat to about a hundred-degree angle. Only one of the driver's slender but calloused hands was on the wheel, and his foot was pressed on the gas. The other hand tapped against the door, tapping to the shaking rhythm of a rap song echoing with a hint of aged static from the radio, dim lights giving a faint glow of blue. 

Robert Blue wore a smile that stretched to his ears, a natural expression of glee. His lips were pulled back from his crooked teeth. A long line of white stretched across his teeth from his failed attempts at using clean strips, leaving the tips of his teeth yellowed. Mr. Blue was wearing aviator sunglasses, the temples entering his greasy, slicked-back brown hair styled from the constant rubbing of his hands through. Rain tapped hard on the windows, leaving large ripples along the glass that were quickly swept away by the wipers and promptly replaced.

“Coming down hard, huh?” His blue eyes flicked over to his small passenger, a boy no taller than three feet. He was held hostage by the seatbelt pressed into his neck. His glittering opal eyes rolled up to look at his dad- taken from his rain trance. They were like tiny stars floating in space that looked just like Roberts, and the thought caused his grin to pull at his ears. He wore a black hoodie enveloping his hands with their oversized sleeves. On the front was the faded logo of the Union Space Museum, a white drawing of Elil with stars that had long been peeled off.

Robert Blue chuckled at his sleepy son. “Did you have fun today?” 

His small boy would nod sleepily while his mouth stretched open and let out a deep yawn. Robert’s eyes never left his passenger. His chest felt warm like it always did around his son. Today had been an eventful day at the museum, one of his son's favorite places.  He swapped the hand on the wheel and set it down on his son's head, ruffling through his short, curly hair, and softly started scratching.

“I love you, R-” 

THUNK! The car screeched as something impacted against the front of the vehicle! Glass cracked as the shadow of a cannonball-like object blasted over it. Tires skidded on the wet ground as it began to spin from a failed attempt to break. Rolo yelped as his father yanked him into his arms, wrapping him around like a protective bubble as his body glowed. 

The car finally stopped. Robert Blue pulled his arms away and set himself back into his seat with a light bump. He clicked back the seat and let it fall back, taking a deep, shaky breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You ok, kid?” He asked, taking off his Aviators to see his kid with his own eyes.

Rolo was shaking. His adrenaline spiked, and his blue eyes were sizzling like stovetops. Robert kept his eyes on the roof of the car as he let his blood cool to a simmer. Meanwhile, his hand settled on his son's shoulder, causing him to jolt in a panic, but Robert gripped.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths. Breathe in-” A hiss of air as Robert Blue inhaled. “-Breathe out.” A shallow puff. The stress and adrenaline slowly faded. Rolo followed in shallow and shaky patterns. Bit by bit, the two would settle down.

“D-dad?”

“What's up, kiddo?”

Rolo pointed. His finger was raised towards the windshield. A channel of cracks, its lake in the lower middle, split, weaved, and reconnected until it faded. The epicenter was a large splotch of crimson red, filling the cracks like rivers. 

“Stay here, I'll check it out.” Mr Blue commanded, slowly rising from his seat and popping out into the rain. His sides hurt, and he had sharp pains in his ribs. He hisses as he grips his side, then raises the arm over his head to stretch out the sore and tender side. Once that was done, he trodded down the dark forested road. Even with the glow of the car, Robert could only see about a few feet through the rain. It did not help that only one of the headlights was working, bathing a puddle of red in a warm orange light.

“Shit. This is gonna cost me an arm.” He leaned on one knee onto the wet ground to inspect his caved-in grill. Blood smeared all over the front, washing away in the torrent of rain, and stuck between the mesh of the grill was fur. Golden Fur. He stood up and flicked open his Aviators. Hiding his eyes as he slipped them on and walked around to the back of the car.

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The rain hid the sound at first, but as he walked around, he could hear the pained whimpers of some poor, unlucky bastard. Huddled in a pained ball was a golden retriever. Blood pooled from under it, matted in its once golden fur, giving it the hue of an ash-covered sun. Big brown eyes glanced up at him, whimpering and begging for help as it licked its shattered leg. The blood was being washed away, traveling and seeping into the cracked asphalt of the road.

“Poor Fucker. Today ain't your day, is it?” He cocked his head, his voice not showing much concern. “Hey, Rolo! Look what I found!!”

The side door slowly opened, and Rolo stepped out. His head had just reached the door handle of the truck. He blinked as his eyes adapted to the dark. Long brown hair matted down, dripping like stalactites. His steps were meek, then shaky, then stopped. 

“No…No…No,” Rolo muttered and sobbed. Robert knew, even behind the cover of heavy rain mixing with the tears, a father always knows. He opened one of his arms for a hug, but Rolo stared at the whimpering body. Puddles splashed as Rolo ran over and slipped his hands under its body, feeling the wet fur and filling his nose with the smell of wet dog and iron. With every muscle in his body, he would try lifting its body. Adrenaline pumping, he lifted it off the ground just an inch before it settled back down.

“He needs a hospital! Dad, help!” Rolo cried out, choking on his tears.

“Sorry, Son. We can't.” Roberts's lips curled into a hidden smirk. It was time for a lesson.

“B-bu-but there's one close,” the three-year-old blubbered.

“There isn't enough time. Son, you’re gonna have to put it out of its misery.”

A pause, silence save for the rain,

“M-me?” 

“The nearest hospital is too far, kiddo; look how hurt it is.” Rolo’s eyes slowly lowered upon the furry form in his hands. It was so scared that he could hear its heartbeat. Robert sauntered to his son and crouched to get on his level as his hand gripped his shoulder.

“It’s in pain kiddo; don't you hear it crying? It won't make it. You have to do something. I mean, you are the one that wants to save it, right?”

Rolo nodded slowly at his father's question. 

“And this is how you’ll help it.”

“B-But why me? Can’t you do it?” He choked on his sobs.

“Don't you want to help it?” Rolo would stammer, but before he could speak, Robert continued. “Poor thing will suffer unless you act now, Rolo.”

Rolo rose from his knees. Tears mixed with the rain as his fingertips glowed a faint red. 

“I-I-I Cant!”

“But you can, Rolo!!”

“It's wrong!”

“And who says that!? The “Law?” I don't care what chicken shit bureaucrats deem what is wrong and what's right, Rolo. They think just because they say shit, they hold all the power, but here's the real way the world works, Rolo. If you can do it- then you have every right to do it.”

Rolo shook, and glowing red threads began descending toward the ground from each finger. The heat dissipated the water droplets that tapped against it.

“We are gods, Rolo, and we can do whatever we like! If we want to take something! Then we take it! If we want to hurt something, then we can hurt it! And if we want to kill something, then we have every right to take its life! So do it, Rolo! Kill it!!”

“Kill it!!”

Rolo's arm raised into the night sky, the threads whipping up, still in the air for a moment, frozen in time.

“Do it!!”

The dog's eyes looked into his, aware of the heat of the threads that glowed a deeper and deeper red, the sun's boiling heat emanating off them.

“Make me proud!!”

His eyes squeezed close. Behind Rolo was no longer his father, but a devil wearing his smile like some cheap skin suit.

“Do it now!”

And the headman's axe fell.

Rolo didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to leave the calm, comforting darkness behind his eyelids, but he knew he couldn't keep them closed forever. Dreading the reveal, they slowly opened, and in front of him was a corpse. Three black burn lines slashed down it, severing deep into the flesh, cutting bone and organs like a hot knife in butter. His eyes fell to his feet, where blood had finally pooled to his shoes.

“Good Job, Son.” His father's hand smacked his back proudly, but Rolo felt nothing. He only felt cold and empty on the inside. “You did what was right. Now come on, kiddo, let's head home.” He turned on a heel, and as if what had just happened had never transpired, he walked back to the driver's side. “I love you, Rolo.”

Fin