Father stepped out of the car with both handguns raised. There were still two other abilities to try with the handguns, but he was sure sparkle would have a similar result to ignition, which had burned the entire car and the weapons.

  Ricochet absolutely wouldn’t work while shooting at the windshield. That would just send the bullet flying up or at an odd angle, especially without the minimum luck required for it to work correctly.

  That left only shrapnel shot. If the bullet just exploded into a million little shards upon leaving the barrel, there was a good chance Father would just be killing himself. That was fine. It was all an experiment.

  Shrapnel Shot

  Father pulled the trigger as both pigfish opened their doors and tried to leave. He fired the left gun first, followed closely by the right. He flinched, expecting the bullet to explode and cover him in shrapnel wounds.

  Instead, the bullet went through the center of the windshield then popped like a little firecracker. The pigfish, as they climbed out of the car and raised their own guns, were met with a spray of metal. They cried out in pain and faltered, unable to fully aim their guns.

  The second bullet popped inside the car and sent shrapnel flying out both doors. The pigfish fell to the ground, squirming and still alive. Father walked over and put regular bullets in their fish brains. He waved to another car, which drove off quickly. He looked back and saw the green light.

  “Oh, I don’t want to miss that.” Father grabbed the guns and ammo before rushing back to his trench police car. He drove as the light turned yellow, and finished his left turn onto Reef Flat Road as the light turned red again.

  Father hummed to himself, driving calmly. His thoughts wandered to the shotgun’s abilities. He needed a chance to practice, but if he just kept restarting at checkpoint one, he’d just keep fighting the trench police for practice. As much as he despised the corrupt pigs working with the Hardbody Crustaceans, Father didn’t want to spend all his time and effort just killing them. There were worse people out there. If he found a checkpoint in the Reef, he could go to places like the parking garage or the restaurant with the grouper for practice.

  Reef Flat Road to the Crest, then down the hill to the Buttress. If there was a second checkpoint, it was likely in the Crest or in the Buttress itself.

  Several Reef police cars flew by with sirens screaming and lights shining. Father watched them pass, heading in the direction he had come from. For the briefest moment, he wondered where they were all headed. Then he looked down at the handgun sitting on the seat beside him.

  “Right. Wow. I forgot I’m a criminal now.”

  Father shrugged and let the thought leave his mind. Criminal or not, he would accomplish his goal. Any consequences for murder or whatever other crimes he managed would be dealt with when his Son was saved. If he spent time thinking of consequences, he would stop himself from doing what needed to be done. Morality was meaningless.

  About a minute later, another Reef police flew by. Father looked around his own trench police car and noted the blood. There were also the words ‘Modestly Deep Trench Police Department’ written on the side. Maybe he needed something to draw less attention.

  A van had been driving in front of him for a while. They had slowed a bit upon realizing there was a police car behind them.

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  “Morality is meaningless,” Father said. He flicked the police lights on.

  Red and blue passed over the van as it pulled onto the shoulder and rolled to a stop.

  Adding whatever charge he might get for stealing a car was surely less than the pigfish he had murdered and impersonating a police officer, and everything else.

  Father grabbed his handguns and shoved them in his waistband. He grabbed the shotgun, checked over the weapon, then stepped outside. A parrotfish stuck its head out of the window.

  “Are you a cop?” They notably stared at Father’s unnecessarily small shorts.

  “No.” Father aimed the shotgun. “Get out.”

  The parrotfish reached for their phone. Father stuck the shotgun in through the window and pushed the barrel against the fish’s cheek.

  “Out.”

  With some awkward maneuvering, the parrotfish managed to climb out of the van. They backed away, fins raised.

  “I’m just taking your van. I don’t want to hurt you,” Father said.

  The parrotfish turned and sprinted. Two steps into the street, a truck driving by hit the parrotfish, launching the colorful corpse down the lane. The truck slammed on its brakes and squealed to a stop.

  Father got into the van and immediately started to drive. He pulled ahead of the truck, thunked over the parrotfish, and continued down Reef Flat Road.

  It maybe wasn’t the most inconspicuous thing he could’ve done. Switching vehicles was meant to draw less attention. And maybe it would if the truck driver was too horrified to remember what Father looked like or what kind of van drove away from the scene.

  It was something he could do better next time.

  Hopefully.

  There was little traffic behind Father. He suspected his actions had something to do with that. As long as he didn’t get killed by pigfish, it would be fine. They would forget about his numerous crimes once he died again.

  Soft jazz music played over the van’s radio. The parrotfish had left a half full cup of something fruity, so Father took it upon himself to enjoy the drink and the music. It was as close to relaxing as he was going to get.

  Reef Flat Road was as straight as a road could be. It led out of the skyscraper corals and up a gradual hill. More anemones and long, stringy coral structures appeared on the sides of the road. Little neighborhoods that felt separate from the huge city stretched as far as Father could see.

  A massive sign greeted him at the top of the hill. Lights from below illuminated the bold, painted letters.

  ‘Welcome to the Crest.’

  Mister Logs had told him to go through the fancy crests. Father watched out the window as he crossed a bridge, separating the edge of the main part of the Reef with the Crests.

  The anemone and stringy coral buildings turned into luxurious shell houses. It costs a premium to use the remains of living creatures as building material. Father had heard of the otherworldly mansions of the Reef in passing, but he had never imagined they would be so refined and elegant. Clam, spindle, and snail shells decorated the exteriors of massive houses with pearls and scales presented like trophies framed around the front door.

  Father’s discarded rum bottle was more than roomy enough and felt like home. These Crest buildings were like entire fortresses. He couldn’t imagine waking up in a bedroom the size of his rum bottle. Walking a mile to the kitchen for breakfast was absurd.

  He passed a few houses, each with unnecessarily massive lawns. The top of the hill leveled out as Father pulled up to a red light. It was less than a mile ahead where the hill started to drop away into what Father desperately hoped was the Buttress.

  He looked at the snail shell house on his right, admiring the spiral and the complexity of colors. It was—

  2nd Checkpoint Boss

  Doctor Holo

  “What?” Father pulled aside and climbed out of his car. “Where?”

  A yellow outline formed on a massive shape behind the snail shell house. It was even bigger than Mister Logs. Without the system notification, Father would’ve assumed the shape was just a big rock or some rotting log.

  “Doctor?” Father asked.

  “I’m accepting new patients,” a shrill voice said.