Zac stopped in front of the man, his sneakers grinding to a stop along the sidewalk.

There was total silence. He pointed the gun at the man and shouted, "GIMME YOUR WALLET NOW!" His shrill voice echoed down the empty street, fading off into the distance.

Total silence again.

Fuck, he sounded like a little kid demanding candy. He opened his eyes. The man had stopped.

He stood like a statue, unmoving, all except for the dog's wagging tail. The dog sat down and stuck its tongue out, lolling it through his teeth. The man's hood covered his head, putting everything about his face into a black velvety shadow. The man didn't answer, nor make any sound. No cry, no gasp...nothing.

"A-ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?! I SAID YOUR WALLET...NOW!!!"

The gun rattled violently in Zac's hands. Could he even shoot this guy if he fought back? Zac shook his head. He didn't want to think about shooting someone. He'd never done so before, and he didn't that want to change. The gun was only for intimidation. No one would die tonight.

"Easy there, kid," the man said calmly from under his hood. He slowly raised his hands, the dog's leash still in his grasp.

Zac's bloodshot eyes widened even more. The man's hands were a cool metallic silver, robotic in nature, moonlight sparkling on his fingertips.

"It is in my pocket. I will reach for it now." The man reached a glittering hand into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, the sound of gears and metal moving reverberated in the eerie silence of the street. He pulled the wallet out, brown and leather.

"Now put the gun down, kid. I will not fight you. Please do so, before you hurt yourself," the man said, his voice soft and paternal.

It resembled Zac's late father's. The last time he was truly at ease - the last time he felt like everything would be okay, was when his father was still alive. His family had a house, food, and comfort.

Zac's heart beat crashed against his ribs a bit softer. A ball caught in his throat, forcing a massive pressure behind his eyes.

Fuck, why am I thinking of him right now?

The german shepherd barked, snapping Zac out of his trance. He looked down to see he had unknowingly lowered the gun, now pointing it at the damp, puddle ridden pavement. He swung it aimed at the man, its end swaying in a random pattern.

"T-toss it on the ground!" he ordered, trying to point the gun at the man's hand.

And the man did just that, throwing it to Zac's feet, his other arm still raised over his head.

Zac bent down to grab it when he noticed someone step behind the man.

"And we'll be taking the dog too," said Kyle from out of nowhere. He pointed his knife directly at the man's ribs.

 Zac stared at him wide-eyed. "Kyle, what the fuck? That wasn't part of the plan."

Kyle glared at Zac with the evil glimmer in his blue eyes. "Well, now it is. Look at it, Zac-" he pointed at the dog with his free hand, "-it's a full-grown german. He's gotta be ninety pounds, maybe like three years old. Do you know how much of a fucking fortune this thing would fetch on the market? If we brought Omar back an S-Class canine, we'd not only get initiated in, they'd see us as fucking legends, man!"

Zac knew the world had a weird obsession with dogs during the past thirty years, but he never understood why. But that wasn't worth it. They had the wallet - the man wasn't fighting - they won. They could run and be free. Zac opened his mouth to make a counterargument when the man spoke up.

The man's voice was no longer fatherly. It was now deep, cold, and dripping with a nasty venom that shot bile up Zac's throat.

"You are not taking my dog."

Kyle clicked his tongue. "I don't think you got a choice, asshole."

The man suddenly let out a painful scream and fell forward, the dog's leash still grasped in his hand. The man's body made a metallic crash on the cold pavement as he landed face first, blue sparks crackling around his arms, legs, and back. His entire body quivered like a massive seizure.

Zac looked at the man in disbelief. He glanced at Kyle, who had a taser in the hand opposite of the knife. Kyle gestured at the man with the taser.

Zac glanced back. The man's pants and sleeves revealed four metallic limbs. Multiple pistons and rods replaced bones and joints. The yellow street lights shone off its surface, the reflection only broken by long scrapes and rust marks.

"Good luck getting up from that," spat Kyle. He held up the taser and turned it in his hand. "Good thing I brought this bad boy. I had a feeling we'd run into one of those cyborg pricks tonight."

The dog sat quietly off to the side, its head bouncing back and forth between Zac, Kyle, and its groaning master.

"Let's grab the mutt and get out of here," Kyle huffed, reaching for the leash.

But with this, the dog snapped. It growled a blood-curling snarl, and leapt at Kyle, catching his arm in its powerful jaw, sharp teeth digging into his flesh and pouring blood along the sidewalk.

Kyle screamed and smacked the dog on the top of its head with the butt end of his knife. He leaned back and kicked it in the rips, earning a sharp yelp from the dog. The dog skidded back on the pavement.

But the dog didn't back down. It launched again at Kyle, saliva and blood pouring out of its mouth.

Kyle sidestepped and kicked the dog away with the sole of his foot.

He spun toward Zac, gripping his bleeding arm with his face wrecked with a combination of pain and rage. "What the fuck are you doing?! Shoot the fucking thing!"

Zac snapped out of his horrified daze, fumbled with the pistol, and pointed it at the dog. The sight shook wildly, the orange tips failed to line up.

"D-Do not...y-y-y-" the man on the ground grumbled, his voice glitching into a repeat of syllables.

Zac couldn't hold the gun straight. His breaths were quick and sharp. His vision narrowed. Kyle kept dodging the barking dog, kicking it away or slapping it with this hand. He swore and growled back at the dog.

"THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! KILL IT!"

"I-I can't..." whispered Zac, a hot burning sensation behind his eyelids, holding back everything from falling onto the street. He couldn't kill a dog. It had done nothing wrong. He lost his own dog a year ago, and the pain that burned inside of him that same day returned, searing his chest and throat.

He lowered the pistol. He couldn't. He could never take away another man's best friend. They had to run for it.

Kyle sprinted over, grabbed the gun, and pushed Zac hard on the chest, planting him on his rear.

"Fuck you then! I'll fucking do it!"

He turned the safety off, clicked the chamber...

"NO KYLE! STOP!"

"N-n-n-n-no!" the man on the ground glitched.

BANG

With one brief yelp that screeched down the street, the dog dropped to the side, crashing on the pavement next to the man. Its long pink tongue loosely hung out its mouth, draping over blood-soaked teeth. Its black onyx eyes staring aimlessly at its owner, who stared back silently.

Kyle tossed the gun to Zac, who stayed motionless on the ground, face flushed of color.

Kyle fetched for something in his pocket and took out the syringe he used earlier, now empty. "I'm not letting this damn mutt go to waste."

He trudged to the dog, blood still dripping from his arm. He stopped, turned, and kicked the man in the head, releasing a last burst of rage. He knelt down and drew blood from the crimson matted dog until the syringe filled to the top.

"Text Omar," commanded Kyle, standing tall after grabbing the blood-soaked wallet. "Tell him we're done early."

Zac didn't move at first. He stayed gawking at the man and his dead dog. Sparks still flooded around the man's body, but he somehow reached a metallic hand out and began gently petting the dog's head. The hand shivered, and Zac was unsure of whether the sparks were the cause, or pure, cold, grief for his best friend - gone from the world forever.

"Get off your ass and let's go!" yelled Kyle, already halfway down the street. He had taken his time walking. There was no need to worry about the police. The Soaring X's already paid them off for a night of freedom.

Zac stood to his feet. The pressure built behind his eyes again.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," he sobbed, a few tears escaping his squeezed eyelids. That was all he could muster - the only words of comfort he could've possibly provided in that moment.

The man didn't reply. He kept on petting the dog's head.

Zac clenched his fist and sprinted away, feet splashing through puddles on the sidewalk.

He met Kyle at the street corner. Kyle held out his hand. "Give me the gun," he said flatly. "I changed my mind. I deserve the prize for that kill."

Zac happily handed it over. He didn't want any association with what happened to the dog.

Kyle nodded, put the pistol in the waistband of his own pants, then disappeared around the corner.

Zac took one longing look back at the man, sadness and grief flushing through his own gut. He never wanted it to end like this, but they did what they had to do. But before he turned the corner himself, he noticed something.

The man was on his hands and knees, head hovering over the dog. Two sharp needles protruded from the man's wrists. And with one rapid movement, he pierced the the dog's body.

The man's body flashed a deep, blood red. Red vein-like lines blazed along the man's arms, legs, and neck...growing and leading to a pair of metallic, red eyes, now staring straight at Zac through the blackness of his hood.

Then, a horrific, monstrous scream erupted from the man, echoing down the street and shooting a sharp pain between Zac's ears.

Zac felt his stomach drop. He gasped a deep breath in, forgetting for a moment he had stopped breathing all together.

He shifted his feet and ran. Simply ran.