Roy held the kid at gunpoint, wrapped in his arms. The standstill with the marshal might only last seconds, mere breaths. But in another sense, Roy had eons of time to consider his actions.

The first thing Roy had done after the King's avatar shade spooked that metal horse and set him free, was pluck one of the Martian mushroom-like bulbs and eat it.

Unbeknownst to most ignorant Rubruns, the bulb held special properties, able to open the mind of the consumer, lengthening the brain's capacity, so that Roy was both very much a part of himself, but also able to expand his awareness, and experience everything to its fullness.

Time became meaningless. Each moment, drawn out eternally, giving him plenty of time for deep contemplation. Plenty of time to thwart the marshal. And surely enough time to decide about the little boy.

He hated kids. Mostly because he had hated being one. So vulnerable, without agency, unable to change or do anything for himself. Unable to keep his mother and father together. Unable to mend their relationship. Which was why he swore off relationships. Better to have an open-door policy, then to be tied down to one spouse, one lover.

But now he understood something new. Even with an open door, some lovers could not be trusted, did not deserve his affections. Take Cora for example, they were not even lovers, but Roy had seen their potential. But Cora didn't share his vision. Because of her kid. The kid clouded her foresight, prohibited her from understanding the love she could have gotten from Roy, not to mention the power and connection she'd have to the King.

But the part that stung most of all, was that Cora herself had clouded his foresight. He was so entranced with her, and for what? In his higher state of being, he saw what a great fool he'd been. He'd let Cora drag his affections through the dust, and he had nothing to show for it. All because she had some snot-nosed kid. Kids ruined everything.

And yet, as Roy held the cold barrel of the gun up to the kid's head, he understood, he wasn't really going to pull the trigger.

Or was he?

Even he wasn't quite sure himself.

He didn't want to. But, a small part of him wondered if he could, if he had the strength to. Tracy forced his hand after all, and Cora betrayed him. She betrayed him for this kid he held. Kids made people weird. They embraced a rigid duality, only seeing the world in black and white, instead of seeing all of the buffet of options before them. Suddenly their worldview narrowed, boxed in to keeping their kid alive, making sure no harm befell it.

Roy tightened his grip, applying just the barest bit of pressure on the trigger. Tracy was fast, but he couldn't stop a blast with only seven inches of play. The kid for his part surprised Roy. Sure, tears wetted his eyes, but he didn't scream, didn't beg, didn't squirm. It was as if the presence of a strong male hugging him close comforted him. But the kid's lack of fear revealed his young ignorance. He should be afraid. Roy was.

Deep down he was always a little afraid of what he was capable of when he got backed into a corner. And this was new territory for him. He'd never used a kid as leverage over others before. It twisted his gut, but livened his heart, and pumped fire through his veins. It excited and terrified him. He held life itself in his arms, and it was within his power to grant life or to take it. The choice was his. No one could stop him. And in that way, Roy was like God. Or at least a god.

The medallion hanging from his neck slipped out of his button up.

Roy was the mouthpiece of an ancient, elder nature. Unto him had been granted revelation. He alone had been bestowed the gift of herald, gathering a herd for his famished deity.

A cry of anguish behind him broke his train of thought.

From the corner of his view, Cora lunged at him. But Roy kept his gaze on the lawman. It was now or never. Roy only had a moment to decide. Take life, or grant life?

The blast of a gunshot rang in his ears, somewhere behind him.

Cora crashed into him, knocking him down.

Still Roy stayed locked on the marshal. As he fell under the weight of Cora, he twisted the gun and shot not the marshal, but the roof of the mouth of the cave. An avalanche of rocks showered Tracy, a particularly large one smacking him in the back of the head. The downpour of rocks left the lawman unconscious, burying most of his lower body.

Roy climbed to his feet to see for himself. Tracy wasn't dead, just unconscious. But he could die, half buried there. Roy contemplated putting a blast right through his skull then. But he didn't. He wanted the lawman to know he'd failed. He needed that self-righteous marshal to suffer.

"Scratch."

He spun around as Cherry called his name.

The kid knelt by his mother. Face down in the sand, she didn't move. The sand beneath her stained scarlet.

So beautiful, even in death. What a waste. Roy hadn't even had his way with her.

He shifted his attention to his herd.

A deep thrumming pulsed from the medallion hanging from his neck and echoed in his mind, stopping all of his thoughts. The thrumming of the medal matched the beat of Cherry's heart. Of the herd's heart. All their precious vitals beat as one. A vast power weighed down on him, causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head.

Raising his voice, he bellowed. "The King in Yellow calls us to draw close to his throne. The time is near."

A cheer rose up from the herd. He loved it when the sheep anticipated the sheering with eagerness. It made things easier.

He strode towards his speeder, Himura flanking him, ready to pilot.

"But what about the kid, Scratch?"

Roy looked down his nose at the stupid kid, still patting it's mother's head, expecting her to wake up.

"Leave it. It's the marshal's problem now."