A wind blew across the desert, failing to cool any of its sun baked occupants and kicking up a bunch of dust.  Deputy Rick Riselskon gritted his teeth in irritation.  His lizard ancestors may have loved the scorching heat in the direct sun, but in his polyester police uniform he was hot and itchy and had been hiding put behind this billboard with his radar gun for far far too long.

As Rick considered for the umpteenth time just waiting out the rest of his shift in his air conditioned patrol car and giving any speeders a free pass, a beat up ratty silver blur of a station wagon flew past his vantage point at a speed it shouldn't really have been capable of, something hanging out of the window.

That something happened to be named Kyle, and with his head out the window, tongue hanging out of a dopey grin, he had much more I'm common with his canine ancestors than rick. He also couldn't see the speedometer, so when the billboard he just screamed past somehow disgorged a set of blue lights and matching siren, it came as a much bigger shock to the german sheperd than it really should have. Pulling his head back in Kyle began the arcane process of slowing down to somewhat reasonable speed, and then pulling over to the sandy shoulder in the middle of nowhere.

Ricks gloriously refrigerated patrol car pulled up behind the rust bucket of a station wagon, it occupant lamenting the need to get out of the vehicle again. The green and red cop certainly would not have complained about getting into a chase in his cooled car. Especially since it was a straight shot to the city on the eternally empty road. There was nothing to wreck on but the occasional pothole.

The red and green wearing blue. The officer pulling him over sure was colorful noted Kyle, hoping he had a personality to match.  As the officer approached one hand was on his holster so the canine put both his hand on the steering wheel in plain view, one holding hos retrieved drivers license.

Rick, self pity driven temporarily back professionalism, approached the rust pretending to be a car. As he did so he noted that the driver clearly knew what to do.  Relaxing his hand off his firearm, he thought that at least this would be quick. As he approached the window to the vehicle rolled down and the voice of a young adult asked "What can i do for you officer?" And from rick came the question echoed by police everywhere "Do you know how fast you were going?" as he held out his hand for the id, which was promptly handed over. 

This was where things went off script for the lizard. Of all the responses, a chipper "0 miles an hour sir" was not really in the play book. Rick looked down at the far less muscled puppy and shook his head "Yeah... no.  I clocked you at over 150"

Kyle felt a little bad for playing headgames with the officer but he really didn't feel like a ticket. "I don't see how you could have officer, I'm a hitch hiker and i just stopped for a rest in this rusted out wreck. Honestly I don't think this thing has run in a decade." And with that Kyle made a overly dramatic show of turning the key, with the result of absolutely nothing happening, exactly as he had known it would. After all, he had been powering the wreck himself. It wasn't exactly fair to the cop, who had no way of knowing he had been cursed with powers as a child by a cult ritual gone wrong, but he really really did not want that ticket.  Keeping a drivers license was hard enough when you were over 200 without people closely examining it in traffic court.

Rick wasn't sure how to take thag, but his training told him he couldn't show it, so he moved on to examining the license in his hand. It was clearly a fake, since the birth date would put the canine at over two centuries. Back at his cruiser he ran it through the scanner and to his continued mounting confusion it showed the ID as completely valid and matching what was on file, including the ancient birthdate.

As he turned back to the beater, he heard a pop, which he identified as a hood being opened from his frequent assistance to stranded motorists. Hand immediately back on firearm, he called to the apparently ancient dog "What do you think your doing? Hands on the wheel where i can see them."

"Yes sir" was the entirety of the vocal reply that came from the vehicle. However in a show of solidarity a family of feral rats (one of which was actually a domestic lab rat, but his adoptive family loved him anyway) that lived in the now exposed engine compartment chose this to exit their nest in the engine compartment and move to the roof to witness proceedings.

The movement drew the attention of officer rick to the engine compartment, which was visibly sans engine even at that distance, instead containing only a rats nest of disconnected hoses and wires, as well as a literal rats nest.

At this point Rick abandoned all thoughts of asking for registration. He was being fucked with. He didn't know why, or even how, but he knew this dog was messing with him.

The heavily muscled lizard was suddenly seeing red as his reptilian blood started to boil. The family of rats, except for the white lab rat, scampered for the safety of the cars interior framework as the lizard stomped his way back to the car, and where a more level headed officer might have simply added a seatbelt violation to the impossible speeding ticket, the lizard showed why he was known in the locker room as Ragin' Rick, grabbing the canine by the throat and bodily pulling him from the corpse of a car he had somehow been driving and throwing him down to the sandy shoulder of the road.

Startled, and in more than a bit of pain Kyle looks up at Rick. "Ow, what was that for. That fucking hurts." he queries, only to be met witj a swift kick to the ribsn driving away his remain protests and breath.

The lizard crouched down next to his victim "You have one chance. Stop FUCKING with me, and tell me the truth now. Or you will regret it" the last bit coming out a menacing whisper.

Kyle started to weigh his option, and then realized he didn't have any. Pretty soon the cop above him would realize he couldn't charge him because if any of this came out he would lose his job and probably his freedom. On the other hand if Kyle fought back, win or lose he was now a wanted fur and a life sentence was a pretty intimidating threat to those who had to to jump through more hoops to die than simply waiting for old age. Really, all he could do now was tell the truth and cross his fingers.

"Ok, but its not much better than the 'fucking with' honestly"  he started from under the cop, who gave a bull like snort indicating that wasnt a good thing for Kyle. "The car genuinely doesnt work, Im running it with magic because Im supposed to be the avatar of" and instead of a name the canine somehow manifests a series of wicked and unpleasant syllables that should not have been possible according to modern physics "which means i have magic and can do shit like that." Kyle pauses for a second there due to a blow to the side of the head he received from the butt of Rick's service revolver. After shaking off the hit he continues. "It didn't work, i still have my free will, and my soul hasn't changed at all so much as had a lump of additional essence glued to it. Thats also how I'm so old. I don't know how you expect to get anywhere if you keep assaulting me" The last bit only being added after an additional blow to the head.

"Demons? Magic? I TOLD YOU TO STOP FUCKING WITH ME" roared the lizard, which was what the Kyle had been worried would. Even after 200 plus years he could hardly believe it himself, but there it was. Still, at least the truth didn't make his gut churn the way it did when his psudeo demonic nature did when it reacted with him lying.

The not-demon canine exited his musings quickly as he heard a sound that made him realize there was one more option at play he hadn't realized was on the table.  As the canine quickly tried to rethink his stance on murdering a cop, the lizard beat him to the punch, pulling the trigger on his now cocked revolver and sending a bullet ripping through the forehead of the prone canine, leaving a nice neat red hole in the middle before blowing everything that made him than a piece of meat out the back and across the desert.

Ricks blood rage quickly cooled and he set about taking care of the enormous mess he had made. First he dragged the rapidly cooling lump of meat back to the rusted station wagon, and shoved it roughly back into the drivers seat, dropping its id back  then pulling a gas can normally meant for stranded motorists and well soaking the area.  He wasnt sure if the rusted metal wreck had anything left that could burn, but he was sure gonna give it the old college try.

Hopping into his gloriously artic cruiser, the lizard rolled down the window just long enough to throw out one of the matches he kept just for these occasions, already starting to brace him for his coming call to his station chief/father begging for yet another coverup.

So wrapped up was Rick as he tore off down the highway he didn't notice the fire turning a deep black as it burned. He also failed to notice that the fire didnt follow the gasoline and even though the flames kissed the exterior of the stationwagon like an amorous lover, they were not invited inside for a nightcap. What rick did notice however was a sharp stinging sensation like a spider bite by a spider with a history of steroid abuse on his shoulder, right around the same place most people got tattoos. The lizard slapped at it and didnt feel anything else bizarre there, and so went on preparing what he would say to his dad, the shoulder issue closed for now.