FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Watching the Wheels

Disclaimer: This story contains offensive language.

Reader discretion is advised.

---

Prologue:

It was the middle of May, but it felt like winter. Under a low, slate-gray sky, trees emerged from their slumber, with young leaves brilliantly yellow-green. The undergrowth of the woods had a cheerful, brightness to it, with some colorful spring flowers intermixed. The quiet woodland ambience was filled by the sound of flowing water. The Log Pond Run, a narrow little creek, flowed vigorously through the woods and into a clearing, by the winding city bike path. Frigid water flowed over rounded boulders, creating little eddies and swirls. The clay and pebble bottom gave it a gray hue. The sights of spring were juxtaposed by the frigid wind that blew in from the north. Winter just refused to die for the buckeye state; Ohio started May off with damp coldness.

Amongst the swaying, tall grass stood Rob Barion, and his ITC-735A camera. Slightly hunched over his anachronistic camera, he worked to line up a shot he wanted. He worked the zoom slowly, and adjusted the focus to get a tight shot of the opening where the Log Pond exited the woods. A large, padded shotgun mic bolted on the side of the camera, would capture the woodland ambience. In his viewfinder, he got a crisp monochrome image of the woods. He knew it would have the classic, soft tube look, like pastel colors from its set of Saticons. The camera was attached to a Sony BVU-150 tape deck by a thick cable. Recording to three-quarter inch videotape, the VTR sat off to the side in the tall grass, encased in a protective Porta-Brace bag. A pop-click of the recorder confirmed that it engaged recording. Rob took a few steps back and let the camera sit and record for a few minutes, while he stood off and gazed with a look of introspection.

Bundled against the cold, it was Rob's first time really being out and about, after four months of convalescence. The brown and tan wolf-malamute battled the icy breeze with a knit winter beanie atop his head, and a thick, blue cardigan that was partially zipped up to around his neck. Beneath he wore a charcoal gray sweater, and dark gray khaki pants. It wasn't his expected wardrobe for the middle of May. His clothes concealed how atrophied his body had gotten, after four months of being bedridden after a serious accident in January. His mind wandered back to that Saturday, in early January. He had gone to help his mechanic service his old propliner at the airport; they were changing an engine out and were removing the propeller off engine one, when the straps supporting the propeller mid-air, snapped. At the last second, Rob shoved his mechanic aside and was hit by the falling propeller, which slammed him to the floor. It landed on him and crushed his pelvis. One of the blades broke off on impact and broke both his artificial knees. He was rushed to the hospital and quickly sent in for emergency surgery to repair the damage. His left hip got replaced, and both his knees were replaced, for the second time in his life. He spent a week and a half in the hospital before going home, where he faced complication after complication. His injury flared up old injuries to his body, slowing his recovery further. Now under a looming pandemic of Coronavirus, Rob forced himself to get out and exercise his emaciated body.

Getting the shot that he wanted, Rob took the time to gingerly tear down his broadcast equipment, to continue on his way. He shut the camera off, and slid it off the tripod boot. He capped the lens and glanced at the pale gray and black camera. It was an industrial model camera, the last tube camera made by Ikegami in the 1980's. He had recently restored the camera out of boredom, and was using it to test another set of his own company's "Saticon V ABO" tubes. He folded up the Fujinon zoom control grip under the lens and placed the camera back in its padded suitcase. He closed the lid and locked it shut. Wincing, he reached over to grab his recorder and throw the leather strap over his shoulder. His legs trembled as he got up. Grabbing the carrying handle of his rolling suitcase, Rob slowly made his way back to the paved trail, to continue on his mid-day stroll.

The stretch of bike path took Rob back to the campus of his former college, the Newark branch of the Ohio State University. The bike path followed the Log Pond Run, which was below him in the embankment. The path went under Granville Street, where Rob always shook his head at the rusted supports holding the bridge up. The crumbling infrastructure of Newark never disappointed. Going up the small hill, Rob strained with the weight he carried. His legs ached and burned, his back ached. He felt physically exhausted going up such a small hill. His body had taken such a beating, and it was embarrassing. His pride felt so wounded. The weather didn't help his mood at all, with the sting of winter's cold in the middle of spring.

Rob walked alone and pondered about his life, reflecting on things. He never envisioned being thirty-seven, and feeling like someone in their late seventies. His health had grown precarious over the years; he had lingering injuries going back as far as his gay bashing twenty-one years prior. A violent car accident that threw him through the windshield, and a terrible plane crash a year later, left him with skeletal injuries. His dour face was made with a permanent scowl because of facial paralysis, the consequence of his gay bashing as a teenager. The jagged, dark scar that ran down the left side of his face was the legacy from that violent episode in his life. Rob now wore it as a badge of honor. These health issues made him a high risk person in the midst of the Coronavirus pandemic. The pandemic elevated his stress levels. He went to great lengths to avoid people, not that it deviated much from his life before the pandemic avoiding most people.

Each step ached, badly. His hips, his knees ached, like a dull burning sensation, with each step he took. Feeling exhausted, Rob spotted the church ground's picnic shelter to his left, beside a big pine tree. He dragged his feet along, and made his way there, for a much needed break. As he walked through the grass, Rob's dour face grew more dour as he felt a snowflake hit his nose. It was the middle of May, and it was beginning to snow. "Un-fucking believable..." Rob grunted as the low slate sky began to spit snow that fluttered in the frigid breeze.

Taking a seat, Rob sat at a picnic table with his video gear. He practically braced himself against the table and breathed slowly to catch his breath. His legs ached so bad, and he still had a quarter mile to walk back to his SUV, which sat in the OSUN parking lot. He regretted going out with his video gear. The wolf-hybrid sat back and just watched the snow flurries dance and flutter in the breeze. It was pretty, but depressing to see when summer was just around the corner. The whole year had been strange, with domestic and world events, coinciding with the pandemic sweeping the world by storm. Rob felt embittered by all of it, including the incompetent response by Washington.

He was lost in thoughts until something loud brought him back. Rob blinked his eyes a few times and shook his head a bit when he heard some furious quacking by some ducks. It was a female's loud quacking, and Rob could sense that it sounded distressed. He watched a few more mallards come flying in towards the creek, slipping from view beneath the embankment. There were other quacks, and commotion, which made Rob slowly stand up, out of curiosity. He glanced back at his sitting video gear, and slowly began to walk, towards the embankment, just to see what was going on. He walked onto the path, and stepped into some tall grass, towards the rocky embankment to peer down. From his vantage point, he saw a couple mallard ducks quacking away; one was a mother with some little yellow ducklings. His eyes soon spotted a yellow ducking in the water, struggling with its feet tangled up in the string of a deflated balloon that was caught on some tree branches. The duckling let out a little distressed chirp-chirp, while the mother duck watched helplessly with its siblings. It's little wings splashed futilely in the water. It risked drowning in the concrete waterfall that poured not far away. Rob stood observing, wondering what he should do. He felt daunted by the dangerous climb down the embankment; he was too weak to risk it, and if he slipped and fell, there'd be nobody to help him. He would have to leave the duckling to its fate. Rob turned around and made about two steps before stopping. His heart just couldn't do it.

Taking a deep breath, Rob gingerly took a first step down the embankment. He secured his footing on the rocks and very slowly made his way down. His joints ached as he struggled to keep his footing. Some rocks broke loose and rolled down, and ducks flew away as Rob approached. He thought what he was doing was stupid, but felt that he had no choice. He just couldn't let an innocent sentiment being suffer and drown. Rob believed it was always safe to do the right thing. He slowly made his way down; rocks rolled and fell, and ducks flew away from him as he approached. He placed his left foot on a boulder, and was just reaching to grab a branch that was jutting out from the hill, when the boulder gave out. Rob lost his grip and fell backwards. He landed square on a couple boulders, and bounced off into the frigid water. His yelp of pain was interrupted by being momentarily underwater. The water sent Rob into shock for a second. He splashed around and slowly lifted himself out of the shallow water, his adrenaline surging. He sprung into action.

Splashing around, Rob found the little duckling and gently picked it up. It squired and fought against his grip as he held him. Rob found that its little webbed feet were all tangled up in the string pretty good. He worked to try and be as gentle as possible to get the string untangled. Somehow it got tied into a knot around the left leg. He got the right leg unwrapped and fiddled around with the string until it finally came loose. Rob tossed the balloon string aside and gently placed the squirming duckling close to its mother and other ducklings, that watched near some dried reeds. Letting out an excited chirp, the duckling swam away and the mother duck quacked at Rob, before the family continued on its way upstream. Rob stood there, soaking wet, shivering in the cold, watching them swim away. He felt accomplished, but then realized that he was soaking wet, on a cold day, stuck at the bottom of an embankment, in a freezing creek.

"Well...fuck..."

Rob spent an arduous ten minutes crawling his way out of the embankment. He constantly slipped and struggled to get a good footing as he clawed his way out. His back was killing him; he twisted it pretty good when he fell and landed hard on some rocks. His legs felt like they were going to give out. His clothes were muddy, soaked, and felt so heavy against his weakened body. Rob cursed and moaned to himself as he finally gripped the grass and pulled himself free. He lay on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Being nice fucking sucks..."

---

Watching the Wheels

The morning sun began to rise above the fog choked valleys of rural Appalachia. Rugged hills covered in canopies of green trapped the morning mist, as the amber sun began to rise over the peaks. Little homes and towns dotted the landscape of western Virginia, rushing by the view of Rob, as he flew low and fast, enroute to Fairfax. The morning calm was shattered by the howling whir of propellers, as the wolf-hybrid zipped along the valleys and peaks, strapped into the snug cockpit of his ominously marked Messerschmitt 109, one of his rare German warbirds. "Green 5", a 1943 Bf-109G-6AS, was painted all black as a night fighter, sporting a white outlined German cross and swastika on the tail. Its blunted spinner had a hypnotic black and white "spiralsnauze" that furiously spun. The three-blade propeller, composed of big black paddle blades, clawed the air, propelling the aircraft at over three hundred miles per hour. The roaring hum of the inverted-vee, DB-605 filled the cockpit, as Rob flew with the throttle open.

Rob piloted the plane with nimble precision. He banked around, following a narrow valley. He tugged on the stick and climbed, clearing a ridge by just several feet. The landscape around him rushed by as a blur. But Rob didn't smile, or look excited by his thrill-taking ride amongst the mountains. His scarred up face looked dead serious as he flew. He looked visibly upset as he made his way to Fairfax, where his electronics factory, "Barev One" was located at. It was a day long since coming to Rob, who finally had recovered from his long illnesses, to return to leading his company, United Barev Industries. It had been a wild eight months for him. His long battle to recover, interrupted by bouts of sickness, left the wolf-hybrid really emaciated. His usually stocky frame was now just fur and bones, after losing forty pounds during a serious bout with pneumonia that left him literally in bed for six weeks, at the end of June all the way through the month of July. He was even hospitalized twice, both briefly, for breathing difficulties. Rob returned to the world to find a place filled with chaos, and his own business, teetering towards financial ruin. He was heading to confront an urgent case of industrial espionage, and to confront management over a number of serious mistakes that concluded in an employee's death, and a million dollar fine by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Rob was itching for a fight.

Rob arrived at Fairfax by nine in the morning. He circled around the airport in the landing pattern, waiting for an opening on the runway. Making two laps, he exited the landing circle, and descended for the runway with everything down. Rob flared for touchdown, putting the Messerschmitt in a slight nose-up angle for a three-point touchdown. The 109 touched down and bounced; its spongy, narrow-track landing gear flexing a bit as it came down to stay on the pavement. Canted tires rolled down the runway for a smooth rollout.

Just arriving in the company SUV was plant manager, Ryan Bolton. Hopping out of the white Suburban was a gray wolf, with a pelt of salt and pepper fur, and tousled brown hair atop his head. The thirty-nine year old lead the entire team that made up "Barev One", the "Barev Electronics Factory". He was once the quality control manager who replaced his boss, Kevin Whirley, who was fired in December. Ryan looked hesitant and uncomfortable as he adjusted the collar to his blue polo shirt. He was thankful his surgical mask hid the look of discomfort. It was his first time dealing with Rob for the year, and he was unsure of what mood Rob was going to be in. He had a rather tense phone call with him the day before, concerning operational issues the factory was facing. Bolton had a usual hunch of what mood Rob was in, by the aircraft he flew in. If he was in a good mood, he often appeared in his Corsair, or twin-engine Mosquito. If he was in a hurry, or something urgent, he'd jet in on his MiG-21, or Su-27. But if Rob was furious, vindictive, or wanting to "chop heads", the "Nazi birds" would be his mechanical chariot. The wolf's heart sank when he saw Rob taxi onto the tarmac, in the all black Messerschmitt. The sinister black Bf-109 made Bolton realize that heads were going to roll back at the plant. He took a deep, slow breath, and stepped through the gate, onto the tarmac to greet his boss.

Rob climbed out of the cockpit, and Bolton was shocked to see how gaunt his boss had gotten. Rob had lost a tremendous amount of weight, and it showed through his flight gear. The wolf-hybrid took his leather flying helmet off, and tucking it beneath his arm, walked around examining his aircraft. Ground crew chocked the wheels, and Rob gave them instructions to clean up and refuel the aircraft. When his eyes made contact with Bolton's, his face grew serious, stern, angry.

"Uhh good morning Rob, how are you-"

"You can dispense with the pleasantries, Bolton. I'm here to put you back in operation."

"Very well, Rob."

Climbing into the Suburban, Bolton and Rob turned around and began the half-hour drive to the industrial park. There wasn't much said between them; the tension in the Chevy was thick enough that one could cut it with a knife.

"There's a lot that we're going to be talking about..." Rob said in a serious tone. "There's...a lot going wrong."

"Unfortunately." Bolton responded.

"We're going to take care of the two spies first... then we're gonna talk, the whole team."

"Gotcha..." Bolton gulped.

Rob sat back in his seat and rode the rest of the way in silence, his arms crossed. The thought of returning to his company to find it in dire straits, infuriated him even more. United Barev Industries was a conglomerate that held various business ventures in broadcasting, electronics and magnetic videotape manufacturing, and aviation and cargo services. It had grown out of Rob's video production company, RJB Television, founded with his best friend, Maverick Tokarev. After consolidating his aviation interests into the company in 2016, and acquiring the bankrupt Whirley Electronics Company in 2017, United Barev was born, with Rob as the head of the company, and Maverick as the Vice-President. The name "Barev" reflected on their friendship; it was a combination of their last names- Barion and Tokarev. Things were going good until January, when Rob was knocked out of commission with his accident. Maverick became the headman in charge for several months, overseeing a growing list of exigencies, until he too was knocked out of commission, following the death of his wife, Amy Golagonoff. Barev then was manned by a committee, formed by Rob's nephew, and adopted son, Marcus and Felix Barion, and his accountant, Charles Manchester. The three-man team was a stop-gap, until Rob firmly returned to resume his duties as the headman in charge. He stepped back into his job to find Barev in virtual ruins.

United Barev was slammed by a lethal cocktail of a ravaging pandemic that sowed chaos in the supply chains, combined with an anxious workforce, a naïve and inexperienced leadership, and incompetent management. Barev One was having serious quality control issues, and was in bad graces with the feds, over a freak accident during a botched Klystron test, which killed a worker with an X-ray blast. The aviation division, Centoh Intermodal, not only faced problems with maintenance and spare parts acquisition for its aging fleet of propliners, but its three critical hubs- in Lainsville New York, Columbus Ohio, and Chicago Illinois, were sluggish, and reeling from the effects of social distancing and ill workers. The Lainsville hub had over thirty workers come down with Coronavirus, paralyzing the whole hub for months. Even BVS, the broadcasting and video production arm, was finding it difficult to continue video production, due to restrictions placed back home in Ohio in light of the pandemic's aggressive second surge. Many of the problems facing the divisions of United Barev were what Rob called "acts of god"; nobody could have envisioned a severe pandemic hitting the US in 2020, and other issues were long simmering operational problems that Rob was trying to snuff out. He couldn't find the heart to blame his best friend, or nephew and adopted son, even if such operational crises erupted under their tenure. Maverick was his close best friend, and business partner, but he was a guy who liked to laugh and have a good time. Being the bad guy wasn't his modus operandi. Marcus ran BVS, and Felix was in charge of the aviation flight department, Centopax, but their nascent leadership didn't translate well to an electronics plant, and the management of Barev One took full advantage of that. They lacked Rob's "ruthless fascism" in dealing with business. On top of all the operational problems, Rob now faced a threat of industrial espionage.

Having got a tipoff from a contact within the FBI, Rob discovered to his horror and annoyance that two employees that were hired during his absence were spies, looking to steal data on Barev's research and development on solar panel technology. A Kevin Cho, and a Syngman Park were the two culprits in the conspiracy. Cho was a Korean-American, and Park was a South Korean citizen; both were former employees to the South Korean company, Diamondstar, which had a solar panel manufacturing facility a few miles away in another industrial park. Rob theorized that their "former employee" status was a ruse, to steal the data from Barev's R&D to bring back to the company to benefit their own solar panel manufacturing. Rob planned on "shutting that shit down".

"When I get my paws on those stupid gooks...they're gonna regret they ever stepped foot in this place..." Rob glared at Bolton.

"Rob you know you're half Korean right?"

"Yeah, I know." The wolf-hybrid grunted.

The SUV returned to Barev One, a sprawling complex that housed offices and a mile long factory floor. The building on the exterior looked innocuous, like all the other industrial buildings in the concrete jungle called the industrial park. It was a gray building with a dark gray stripe near the flat roof. Beside it was a two story tall office building, integrated in the front, where a small call center and management offices were located at. "BAREV" was written on the building in bold, blue, Square Serif font.

Rob hopped out of the SUV and marched ahead of Bolton. Dressed in his all black Luftwaffe flight gear, Rob looked the part of the menacing boss, as he threw the door open and stepped inside.

---

The arrival of Rob brought instant panic to the management team of Barev One. It was the impromptu visits that shot fear and panic into the leadership of Barev's electronics factory. Rob was a mercurial boss who could blow hot or cold, and nobody had any idea of what mood to expect Rob in. He could sometimes be friendly, talkative, and give praise for good work, or he could be in an explosive fit of rage, ready to read the riot act and call everyone every terrible name in the book. As managers poured into the conference room, everyone knew exactly the mood Rob was in. The angry glare behind his surgical mask, the black Nazi era flight uniform, the arms tightly crossed as he stood at the end of the tables. Heads were certainly going to roll. There was a lot going wrong.

Before Rob spoke to the management team, he picked up the phone and called for security. The large plant complex was guarded by a ten man security team, under the banner of "Barev Security Services", "BSS", often morbidly shortened to "SS".

"You know why I'm here." Rob stared. Nobody said anything. His management team was quiet, with sullen faces. "There's multiple, glaring, big glaring problems facing this facility, and they need to be fixed. Now."

Before Rob could continue, the door to the conference room opened to reveal a black furred Samoyed. With a pompous looking pelt of puffy, shiny black fur, he quickly stepped inside, dressed in a fancy looking blue suit and gray necktie that had white stripes on it.

"Sorry about that, I had to go assist with a minor problem~" he greeted. He sounded like Carlton Banks from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. He walked up to Rob with a smile on his face. "Good morning Mister Barion! I'm Gerome Robinson."

Rob looked at him with a confused look, looked at his extended paw, then turned to stare at Bolton.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"That's Gerome Robinson, the new assistant-plant director." Spoke Daryl Sanders, the head of the magnetic tape division.

"One of Bolton's hires." Rob nodded. "Good morning, have a seat."

Gerome's face flinched with a look of awkward uncertainty, and he sat next to Bolton and Ron Napier.

"I'm going to keep this short." Rob explained as he watched his security team show up. "It has come to my attention that there are two active spies within the ranks of this company, trying to dig up R and D information on our solar panel development."

There were murmurs in the crowd, looks of surprise to Rob's announcement.

"I will be handling this situation personally...when I come back...we're going to have a talk about the problems this factory is facing. This level of fuckery is unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable. I am very disgusted at what I am seeing. I leave this company with it in good shape, and now I come back to find it in literal shambles! It's like a fucking third-world banana republic's in charge!" Rob griped. His eyes scanned the room with disdain. "BRAD!" Rob shouted.

At the other end of the room stood the head of Barev's security team, Brad Johnson. An imposing Doberman, standing at six foot two, the thirty-six year old was a veteran of the Iraq War. The security team was dressed in black shirts, black slacks and boots, with gray neckties. All of them were armed with Glock pistols, strapped to the hip.

"Yes Rob?" Brad responded.

Rob pointed. "I want three of you go get Mister Park, and bring him to the storage room. I want the rest of you in the storage room- you too, Bolton. You're with me Brad...we're getting Mister Cho..." Rob grabbed Brad's taser from its holster; a sinister smirk was concealed behind the mask.

---

In an isolated room at the end of the factory floor was the server room. The hum of electronics filled the chilled air as servers and terminals worked to provide Barev's network backbone. Critical data of company IP was stored in the servers for access. Inside the restricted room worked Daniel Cho. Looking cautious, the white and gray malamute quickly typed on two terminals, feeding data over to be stored on a thumb drive. A master of one-handed typing, the malamute quickly accessed data in regards to solar panel research by the company. As he acquired the data and ported it over, a smirk graced his face, a cocky grin of what he was accomplishing. He quickly exited the one terminal, and closed out on another. He pulled the thumb drive and stowed it in his lab coat. Quickly turning around, he walked amongst the servers for the only door in and out. Just as he approached it, the door suddenly flung open to reveal Rob drop to his knee and fire the taser. The barbs struck Cho and dropped him the moment electricity flowed through him. Rob hit him with a forty-thousand volt blast. He fell against the server and landed on the ground with a thud.

Rob and Brad rushed in and grabbed him, dragging him out. Other workers curiously walked over to see what's going on.

"Go about your business!" Brad shouted. "We got this under control! Worker collapsed! That's all!"

"Get to fucking work!" Rob shouted as they dragged Cho away.

Taking him down a corridor, they threw open the steel double doors to the storage room, where the other guards, and Bolton waited.

"Alright search him!" Brad yelled as he held a dazed Cho up. The malamute protested as a guard searched his pockets, revealing a thumb drive, iPhone, and notepad that had instructions scribbled down on it.

"That's it! There it is!" Brad shouted as he threw Cho into a chair. He and another guard grabbed Cho's arms and slammed them on the table. Another security guard fired up a jigsaw and approached, with Cho screaming "NO! NO! NO!" repeatedly. Rob motioned for them to stop. Rob approached and stared down at Cho with glaring blue-green eyes. They looked dead to the world; like empty wet pools of polished emerald.

"Sneaky...but not sneaky enough..." Rob spoke in Korean. He stepped aside for Brad as he approached.

"Let me ask you- I'm impressed by your skill in typing one handed... heh...no girlfriend?" Brad smirked amusingly. "I saw you on camera crunching those numbers in on two terminals...you're a lot faster with your left paw, aren'tcha?"

"Well...yeah..." Cho hesitantly responded.

"So that makes you a leftie then?"

"Well...yeah?"

Rob walked over with a claw hammer, and with no remorse, struck Cho repeatedly in the left paw with the hammer, as hard as he could. Cho screamed in white-hot pain as Rob broke all his fingers in five, massive blows. The wolf-hybrid's face was twisted in raw hatred as he backed away with the bloody hammer. Cho fell back in his seat, crying as he clutched his mutilated left paw. Bolton looked at Rob with a horrified expression; he was terrified of what Rob had just done.

"Hope you improve on your right paw..." Brad chuckled.

The double doors burst open to the three other guards dragging Syngman Park in. He was flanked by an older German Shepherd, and a young brown Pitbull. Park looked gobsmacked at what was going on, his face lighting up in terror at Daniel Cho kneeling on the ground, clutching a bloody paw.

"Look what they did to my fucking hand!" Cho cried out.

Park looked up at Rob, who stared at him, still clutching the bloody hammer. His face was stone cold as he turned and slowly walked towards the other malamute. Rob's entire body language read aggression.

"I'm gonna give you two options and you better choose carefully. You can have the data and the hammer? Or you can walk outta here alive- you can't have both."

"I want to get out of here..." Park pleaded.

"That's right."

"I'm sorry, look we made a terrible mistake here."

"That's right you fucking made a terrible mistake- how fucking stupid can you two be?" Rob glared. "To come in here and steal intellectual property? Well let me tell you the fuck what- you tell those fucking gooks at Diamondstar that our data is our data! You understand me! You tell those motherfucking zipper heads to not fuck around here, you understand? If I see either one of you ever around this area again I'm gonna- you see that baseball bat over in the corner? I'm gonna use it on you- I'm gonna smash you like a fucking pumpkin."

Rob motioned for the guards. "I want this motherfucker thrown out the front. Take that loser and throw him out the back, and if anyone says anything, tell em' it's an accident. Wipe the camera drives too. This never happened, Brad."

"Yes sir."

Rob turned to glare at Bolton. "You, front conference room, now."

"Now you hold on a minute, Rob!" the wolf protested. "What the fuck did you just do!?"

"What the fuck did I just do? I just took care of our spy problem."

"You could have just seriously disabled that person's paw!"

"Who cares?"

"I care! Spying or not that was wrong and-"

"Listen here peaches! This fucking happened under your watch, right under your god damn nose, so don't you dare try and lecture me over anything! You got that?" Rob shouted.

"Now you listen here Rob." Bolton glared. "This is my factory to operate..."

"Yeah? Who's fucking company is this? Not yours! It's mine! Barev is half my name! It's me and Maverick, not me and you, Bolton. Don't get out of line!"

"This is my factory because you gave me the power to run it! And damnit Rob I'm going to run it as I see fit!"

Rob leaned back and looked at Bolton through angry eyes. He let out a jaded chuckle as he approached Bolton again. "I gave you power huh..."

Rob ripped his surgical mask off. "If I gave you power, Bolton, you had NOTHING! Nobody gives you power, boy... Real power's when you take it..."

Bolton glared back at Rob. "I'll remember that."

"You do that, Bolton. To the fucking conference room."

---

At ten-fifteen in the morning, the dreaded conference with Rob began. There was not a soul in the room who felt resigned to fate, as they began the screaming match with Rob Barion. Rattling off a list of every single operational fault and mistake, Rob read the entire management and engineering team the riot act. It was an effervescent violent eruption of eight months worth of pent up rage by the wolf-hybrid. He griped, yelled, yelled, and yelled, continuously over all the serious operational issues. His rage only got worse when the topic of the NRC fine came up. Rob's whole face turned red, he was that angry.

"Who the flying fuck thought it would be a good idea to just rig up a high powered Klystron in the testing area and just fire it up!?" Rob shouted. "You people have been working on this stuff before I was even a concept! What the flying fuck!? Forty years! Some of your fucks have been working on this for forty years!"

"With all due respect Rob... I told Narovec not to test it and-"

"Napier, I am not upset at you..." Rob stared. "You're my tube wizard, and you know what you're doing. It's the other stupid fucks who don't! Narovec's glad he got fired because I would have tied him up and shot him with X-rays from the motherfucker! And because of his dumbass, now we gotta pay a million dollar fine! How the fuck are we gonna just pull that money out of our ass when the company's in the red already!? Paying everyone's salaries in full while the plant's shutdown, WHAT IS BAREV NOW? UNICEF!?"

Rob threw his arms in frustration and marched back and forth, seething.

"YOU IDIOTS ARE TURNING BAREV INTO THE NEXT FUCKING FIRESTONE!!!!!" Rob screamed, jumping up and down. He grabbed a box and slammed it on the table, where the sound of jittering glass was evident. He pulled out tube after tube that was defective; bad power tetrodes, bad video pickup tubes, bad electron guns. Rob was not having it. He berated his engineers for not picking up the quality control, and was baffled at how not working for an extended period of time could cause so many problems.

"We are making inferior products and we need to improve them now!" Rob shouted. "Not this third grade, oops, we fucked up, shit! Unacceptable! Unacceptable! FIX IT!"

Rob threw the box of defective tubes, which smashed onto the floor. He pointed at the engineers.

"Look Rob~" Sanders spoke up. He was a middle-aged sandy brown wolf, who was in charge of magnetic tape manufacturing. "There was a two month gap in manufacturing, and when things get restarted, you get little gremlins creep up in the system. Add to that operator error, like Narovec...I acknowledge... but we're also facing inconsistent quality of the raw materials coming in."

"The pandemic has really played havoc with the supply chains." Napier added. "The lead-oxide we're obtaining has been giving more blemishes with the Plumbicon targets. We're rejecting quite a bit because of imperfections."

"Alright."

"The tellurium for the Saticon targets, has also had an indifferent quality at times- these are just issues that will take time to correct! I have been in communication with the vendors as well."

Rob shook his head and rubbed his forehead; he had given himself a terrible tension headache. His whole body hurt from being so tense. He closed his eyes and smacked his forehead on the whiteboard in the conference room. Then his phone rang. Grabbing it from his pocket, he found his husband Joey calling him.

"Yeah, Joey."

"Rob, hey, uhh, Alvin got beat up at school."

"What!?" Rob shouted. His face immediately turned red again. "Was it that no-talent fucking hick, Colt Martin?"

"Yeah."

"That's it. I'm flying back to Ohio. I'm gonna teach that boy who's boss!"

Rob angrily hung up and stowed his phone away. He looked Bolton dead in the eye. "You better have a plan of action all set up to fix these issues by the time I show up next time, or heads are going to roll! Failure is not an option!"

"You know I really don't feel comfortable by your way of calling someone a 'boy', if you get me?" Gerome spoke up.

"Oh god, no." someone muttered.

Rob turned and stared at the Samoyed. "Who the fuck asked you?"

"Please don't talk to me like that." Gerome spoke up. "Look it's inappropriate and-"

"Robinson, shut up..." Sanders snapped at him.

"Look I think it's something that needs to be addressed! We're a diverse company and-"

"Oh my fucking god don't you even start with that shit." Rob pointed.

"There are discriminatory negative connotations of that word and how it's addressed- and I think if there-"

"LOOK!" Screamed Rob. He grabbed Gerome by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the wall. "You listen right here you preppy, naïve, tar baby jigaboo! You're gonna do your fucking job and take that square headed Bolton, and turn this fucking place around, or they'll never find your bodies... I'll sink both of you in the Potomac. This is my final warning."

Gerome looked terrified and dumbfounded at Rob's angry gaze. He let go of the Samoyed and marched out of the conference room, the door slamming shut behind him. Gerome looked at Bolton and the others with a gobsmacked look of "what just happened to me?"

"I told you to shut up..." Sanders shook his head. "Now you met Rob. The big boss."

"Wow." Gerome muttered. He looked over at Bolton, who just rubbed his forehead in frustration.

Rob took the company SUV and rushed the half-hour drive back to the Fairfax airport, where he found his Bf-109 refueled. He left the SUV to be picked up by one of the factory employees and quickly climbed aboard his all black Messerschmitt for the flight back to Ohio. Rob fired up the DB-605 and quickly taxied for the runway, where he soon rushed down for takeoff. Pulling back on the stick, the 109 bounced twice before getting the lift to climb away. Rob was itching for a fight.

---

The clock struck noon when Rob came screeching into the parking lot of Newark High School. His Tahoe swung around in a fast, tight turn, and stopped in front of the cafeteria area, at the drop off zone. Rob got out, slammed his truck door and threw on his surgical mask. He grumbled under his breath as he marched towards the entrance.

Pressing the call button, he waited for the secretary to answer.

"Newark High School, how can I help you?"

"It's Rob Barion." Rob called. The door unlocked quickly. He threw the door open and went inside.

On top of being the headman of United Barev, Rob was a part-time school administrator, as position he took in 2011, in order to save the high school's broadcasting department. Rob utterly hated being a school administrator; he was stuck doing menial, boring busywork for Newark City Schools, while babysitting a bunch of obnoxious teenagers. He hated dealing with dramatic, whiny teens, and all their problems and insubordination. He wanted to quit so bad, but quitting looked weak; Rob refused to project weakness to potential enemies. It was one of his self-aware weaknesses. The only silver-lining he found being a school administrator, was being able to look over his nephew, Alvin Paulo. And today was going to be just that. Alvin, now a junior in high school, had problems with a bully named Colt Martin. He was some dumb hick Rob couldn't stand. He was the epitome of "brawn over brains". His only purpose it seemed was to sexually harass girls, and bully minorities with a smattering of raw bigotry. Rob wasn't in the mood for any of it. He didn't even think school should be back in session with the pandemic in full swing. The district implemented an aggressive cleaning schedule and alternating student schedules to enhance social distancing, but Rob wrote it off with zero confidence in the administration to even pull it off right.

Rob threw the office door open to what was once G-building. The campus style high-school that Rob remembered from the 1990's was now a giant, Y-shaped building, interconnected with a few relics of the old campus. He remembered the office quite well, with a glass wall that viewed out into the main lobby with the famous NHS seal on the rotunda floor.

"Carole...what class is Colt Martin in..." Rob said as he walked inside.

Carole, an aging gray wolfess looked in shock at Rob's gaunt appearance. It was their first time seeing Rob in months. "Jesus Rob, you look terrible."

"Yeah, I know." Rob bluntly responded. He pushed through the door flap and grabbed the class schedule roster. He flipped through the binder and found Colt Martin's schedule. He ripped the phone off the receiver and called the classroom he was in.

"Mister Bennett, I need Colt to the main office now, please." Rob announced. He put the phone down, just as Josip Jasonovich, the head principle of the school, exited his office.

"Rob, uhh, I need to speak to you."

"Quickly." Rob curtly replied.

"I spoke to both your nephew and Colt over the fight that happened in between class around ten-thirty."

"Yeah?"

"Apparently Colt instigated the fight with a friend of his, and it turned into your nephew punching him."

"Good."

"Well, not good. Colt used some discriminatory epithets, and Alvin responded by physical violence, that turned into the scuffle, which was broken up quickly."

"What's your point?" Rob stared in annoyance.

"The point is, I am still deciding on what course of disciplinary action that I need to take and-"

"Hold that thought..." Rob pointed as the office door opened to reveal Colt himself. He was a big, burly looking gray wolf, with a brown chinstrap beard, and a blank glassy eyed stare on his face. He was twice Rob's size. He wore a burgundy colored polo that had its collar all messed up. Rob walked up to him.

"So...Colt...I'm going to give you a chance to talk to me... why did you beat up my nephew?"

"Your nephew started it!" Colt responded in a whiny voice tinged by his southern drawl.

"My nephew started that fight..." Rob raised a brow. "My nephew is five-ten... and you're six-three...I don't buy that for a second."

"Well that's what happened..."

Rob picked up the phone and dialed for Alvin's classroom. "Let's find out." The wolf-hybrid glared at him.

"Hi, Misses Clarkson? This is Rob Barion here, I'm sorry to interrupt, could you put Alvin Paulo on the phone please? Thanks~" Rob waited a moment for his nephew to get on the phone.

"Hey Uncle Rob."

"Hey Alvin~" Rob responded, a smile naturally forming under his surgical mask. "I heard what happened...could you please tell me what's going on?"

"Well...I'm getting a book out of my locker...when Colt and his idiot friend Dale came up and wanted to run their mouths at me..."

"Okay~ I was told you started the fight by Colt."

"I punched him yes. But you know what he did to me? Colt called me a fucking nigger, a faggot and told me to go fuck myself..."

Rob instantly felt his blood boil. He turned and glared at Colt, his eyes filled with rage. "Hold on a second there Alvin- You called my nephew a nigger? And you told him to go fuck himself?"

"I didn't, I-"

"You told Alvin to go fuck himself?"

"I mean, I-"

Rob took the telephone handle and hit Colt square in the face with it. He smacked the wolf so hard that it whipped his head back and nearly broke the phone. All Alvin could hear on his end was a loud feedback howl, followed by the scuffling sound of a punch throwing someone into a wall. Rob shoved away two secretaries and Josip.

"Get up, get the fuck up you pussy ass bitch!" Rob snarled. He pointed at Colt. "You better go fucking find my nephew and apologize, you understand me boy? You ever do something like that again, and get out of line, I'll smash your fucking head in so hard, you won't be able to get your dumbass baseball cap on it again. Fucking hick..." Rob held the bent up phone back to his head. "Look Alvin, I know Colt is very, very sorry for what he said to you...and he knows what a worthless, dumb, useless canine he is... So he's gonna come find you, and apologize to you, okay?"

"I don't want to deal with him frankly, Uncle Rob. I got a bad headache from getting punched and-"

"I know Alvin, I know, and I understand. But just do it for your uncle, okay?"

"Fine. Even though he also threw me down the stairs and took my lunch money!"

"I see... Well I'll tell you what Alvin...I'll take care of the money problem... okay? You just focus on your school work, and try and have a better day, okay?"

"Alrighty~"

"You take care Alvin, I'll see you after class...goodbye."

Rob hung up the damaged headset. "I can't believe you... Really?" Rob turned to stare at Colt, who was practically whimpering, clutching a bloody nose and a bloodshot eye that was swelling shut. "Not only did you call my nephew a nigger, and a faggot, told him to fuck himself, but you knocked him down a flight of stairs! And you took his lunch money!? You cheap, pathetic, shit-kickin', STINKY, cowboy, cow-fuckin' MOTHERFUCKER YOU! You ever fuck with my nephew again like that, I'll stick ya in a hole in the fuckin' woods. Understand me?"

Rob swung and bitchslapped Colt across the face as hard as he could, knocking him into a desk. "Go out there and fucking apologize to Alvin!"

Rob grabbed him, opened the door, and kicked him in the buttocks, sending him to the rotunda floor. "Get the fuck out of here!"

Rob slammed the office door and turned around, to see the entire office staff staring in disbelief and disgust at him.

"What the fuck are you broads all standing around!? Get to fucking work!" Rob shouted in annoyance.

Josip marched up and shouted at Rob. "Rob you are out of control!"

"Yeah? Don't test me." Rob glared back. "Don't allow people to fuck with my nephew."

"You know I could suspend Alvin because he got into an altercation and that is against the school resource-"

"Don't you even begin with the school resource book there, Josip. Don't you even go there- that stupid booklet isn't even worth the shitty ass paper it's printed on! You wanna talk about policies and procedures? How about the policy of bullying that includes disciplinary action, up to, and including suspension! Huh? This isn't a new issue...this has been a long standing problem since I was in high school!"

Rob pointed to his facial scar. "If that stupid booklet was enforced? I wouldn't have this or facial paralysis... So don't give me that shit."

Josip just breathed slowly as the two stared each other down. "Rob...one of these days it's going to catch up to you..."

"That's why you stay one step ahead..." Rob glared back.

The office door swung open to reveal the school superintendent, Doug Schulz. He was a small statured Whippet, with a sharp, angular face, and a pelt of mottled gray fur. Green eyes looked irritated at Rob's mere presence. The two hated each other with a fiery passion.

"Rob Barion." Doug glared, saying his name through clenched teeth.

"Doug the little itty bitty schmuck." Rob glared back. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"You hit a student!" Doug pointed. "What is wrong with you?"

"He wanted to run his cocksucker, so I put him in his place." Rob responded. "Now when my nephew has complained multiple times about bullying, including the use of discriminatory epithets? And nothing gets done? Shit like this happens. I'm not gonna let Alvin get bullied- I'm gonna shut that shit down!"

"And I'm gonna shut this shit down too! You have been a pain in my ass since I took this job!" Doug yelled. "You have killed two students in 'eighteen, you left one so mangled, and now this? How many other students are you going to beat their brains out!?"

"It was justified." Rob pointed. "And you know it."

"And I'm justified to tell you this, Rob. You're fired! Get out!" Doug shouted as he pointed at the door. "I'm tired of your face!"

Rob walked up to Doug, his eyes filled with rage. The whole office was silent as everyone backed away. Doug's angry expression turned into a look of intimidation; as if he instantly regretted what he had said. Rob got right up to him, towering over his diminutive five foot four frame.

"Good." Rob calmly said. He looked around at everyone, a twisted sort of smile curling up on his muzzle.

"Good." He reiterated more quietly. "That's the best news I've heard in years, Doug. I've been trying to get myself fired for five years now... so thank you~"

Rob turned and walked out the office door. His pose and walk took on a calm note as he walked down the hallway, remembering all the times as a student traversing the hall in and out of G building. As he left, he passed by a mural on the brick wall, commemorating the life of his grandpa, Robert "Gordo" Barion. Rob stopped and stared at the photo of his late grandfather, taken some time back in the late 1970's. When he had passed away three years prior, he left behind a significant amount of money for the school in a trust fund, and to commemorate his life, a memorial hung on the wall. A bright, cheerful smile graced his school portrait; that was what Rob remembered Gordo best, the cheerful disposition. Rob realized that he would never live up to his grandfather's proud legacy as a war veteran of the Second World War, and a long serving school teacher for Newark City Schools. Now Rob was the disgraced, fired, part-time administration, on his way out, with a walk of shame. He left the cafeteria, got into his Tahoe, and departed.

---

A rhythmatic beep-beep-beep was the first thing Rob heard as he slowly awoke. Everything sounded garbled, in a daze as he woke up to the world. It sounded as though he was in a hospital.

"Hey Rob." He could hear. It echoed, it sounded like he was underwater, drifting in and out. "Rob, Rob, it's Jason, your ex."

Rob opened his eyes to find his ex-boyfriend, Jason Jasonovich staring at him, his face concealed behind not only a surgical mask, but a plastic splash guard as well. He felt the big Serbian malamute gently rub his chest with a gloved paw. "Rob, hey, welcome back to the world."

Rob blinked and looked around to find himself in a hospital room, at Licking Memorial Hospital. He was dressed in a medical gown and was lying under a white blanket in a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor, and an IV line. "Didn't think I'd be back here so soon..."

"Heh..." Jason chuckled a bit. "You collapsed yesterday and were resuscitated in the ER."

"Oh wow."

"You didn't have a heart attack...you had what happened to your friend not long ago."

"Takotsubo cardiomyopathy..." Rob muttered.

"Yep. Broken heart syndrome." Jason nodded. "But they kept you here because you didn't wake up immediately...Karen suspected you had a nervous breakdown~"

"I...kinda had a bad day yesterday..."

"Just a little bit of an understatement." Teased his ex. "Why don't you wake up a bit- they're gonna be serving breakfast in an hour or so... and then they'll do a few heart tests on you... and you'll be outta Hotel Coronafornia!"

"Heh, thanks Jason." Rob mustered a smile for him.

Leaving Rob alone, the wolf-hybrid sat in his hospital room, alone for some time. He laid on his back, looking up at the water damaged ceiling tiles, his paws resting on his stomach. He took the time alone to reflect on things. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was being served paperwork by Agent Gary Dove, Special Agent to the Cincinnati branch of the FBI. He was court-ordered to serve community service in the city of Akron, about an hour and a half north-east of Newark. It was in regards to his daring rescue attempt of his nephew the year before, after being kidnapped by a group of Serbian nationalists bent on revenge, after Rob had killed a member in 2017. He had accidentally blown up an abandoned building that did a lot more damage than expected to the city of Akron. He had apparently royally pissed off the city government, and they were bent on getting back at him. He didn't remember anything else, as he had blacked out from being so angry. It was an exceptionally bad day.

Turning his head over, he noticed a vase of flowers sitting on a table not far from his bed. There was a small card propped up against it. Taking a breath, Rob slowly got up and sat up in his bed, the emaciated wolf-hybrid got up and, being mindful of his IV line, shuffled his way over to examine the flowers and the card.

"Rob- I hope you feel better. Kindly, Dove." The note read in blue ink. Rob sat it down and stared off into space blankly for a few minutes. "Wow" was all he could think. Wheeling his IV holder with him, Rob walked over to where the mirror was, bolted to the wall. He braced himself against the sink and just stared at his own reflection, a harsh reality staring back at him.

Reflected back was an exhausted, gaunt looking, broken man in his late thirties. Rob was thirty-eight, but he looked like a sick, tired, old man. He felt like he was seventy-eight. Eyes were weary looking; they even looked dead to Rob himself, like empty pools of wet emerald. He saw the angry gaze his late father had, the angry gaze that used to peer through a mask to hide his facial burns. Now he possessed that same glare. The hospital mirror reminded him of the first time he saw the jagged dark scar that sliced down his face. It was the similar hospital mirror in his room, when he saw that scar, nineteen years prior. The horror, the shock, the realization that his life had fundamentally changed. In retrospect- for the worst. The happy, naïve, innocent gay teen that he once was, died in his gay bashing twenty-one years before. He was now a bitter, jaded man. He felt like Nixon; he assumed the worst in everyone, and he brought the worst out in them. He felt like he had become what he feared growing up- his father. Rob stared at himself in the mirror for quite some time, feeling like an eternity for him. It was a time of very deep introspection on his precarious health. The walls felt like they were closing in around him.

---

After undergoing a stress test and an ultrasound, Rob was discharged from the hospital. He stood scribbling his signature across a mountain of paperwork at the lobby. A paper baggie held some new prescriptions; a new anxiety drug to help calm his nerves, and some heart medicine, to help rest his heart after its cardiac event. Rob didn't look up at anyone as he initialed and signed his name with his blue rollerball pen. His husband Joey and nephew Alvin stood close by, both with blue surgical masks on their face. Rob exhaled slowly through his mask and turned all the paperwork in. He got a friendly goodbye, and Rob grabbed his white paper bag, to go with Joey and Alvin.

"What an adventure..." Rob said to his lover.

"Time to bring you home~" Joey nodded.

Climbing into Joey's truck, the iridium gray GMC 3500 left the hospital for the drive back to north Newark, where they lived at, in the Krebs Edition. Joey pulled back into the driveway of their home, 655 Karen Parkway. It was good to be home again. Rob was sick of hospitals.

Following dinner with his family, Rob took another shower, in an attempt to rid himself of the scent of antiseptic that he hated so much. He retired to his bedroom for the night, dressed in his red and white striped pajamas. Rob had lost so much weight that they looked baggy on him.

In bed sat his Brazilian lover Joey, just in a white tanktop and a snug pair of green briefs that bore the colors of the Brazilian flag. He sat reading a magazine while Rob slowly climbed into bed. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got into position to sit up, beside his lover. Joey put his magazine down and leaned over to put his arms around his husband, a smile always gracing the Doberman's face. Rob looked over at Joey, an exhausted expression on his weathered face. Joey gently caressed Rob's face and smiled at him.

"Back to square one~" Joey quipped sarcastically.

"I didn't think I'd wake up in a damn hospital again." Rob rolled his eyes. "Joey, this has been a terrible year."

"Yeah, I agree. And it's not gonna get any better." Joey admitted with a bit of a grimace.

"I can't believe this happened- on top of everything else." Rob sighed, bitterly. "I can't believe of all things, a fucking propeller fell on me and crushed me. All because I couldn't let Vlado get hurt- you know being nice hurts. It's no wonder why nice guys finish last."

"It was a freak accident. You shouldn't beat yourself up." Joey reasoned.

"Well I already have...literally..." Rob pointed, at his gaunt looking arms. "Jesus Christ, look at myself. I'm just fur and bones!"

"Pneumonia takes a lot out of people."

"I've probably lost at least sixty pounds since January." Rob grumbled. "And I made a complete fucking ass of myself yesterday, and it cost me my job at the school district, even though I hated my job there, and been trying to get myself fired for years...I just never thought they'd pull it off!"

"Well, they were afraid of the sequel, Sandy Hook meets Columbine~" Joey snickered morbidly.

Rob just shook his head at the joke. "I made a complete fucking ass of myself yesterday. I go to Virginia and I just lost my mind- made a complete ass of myself, tased a spy and broke his paw over potentially losing millions of dollars in intellectual property, and then completely eviscerated the management team and told the new assistant plant director a bunch of discriminatory epithets in a fit of rage... then I lose my mind over Alvin's bully and probably gave him a concussion via a telephone~ Then Dove comes into the picture...community service...over rescuing you and Alvin last year. They wanted to charge me with domestic terrorism and it got reduced to fucking community service... I can't believe it... and now I'm here, back to square one."

Joey nodded. He looked sympathetic to Rob, who looked fidgety, exasperated. His paws trembled as he tried to find the words.

"You know if I knew back when I was seventeen...that I'd transform into what I am today? I'd probably lay down in front of a train. At least I would have died happy."

"Oh, don't say that, Rob."

"Well it's true!" Rob bitterly responded. "I've become the one thing I feared the most- my Dad. I look in the mirror and I see him on my face anymore. I see a bitter, broken man staring back at me. And I don't know what to do. Or who to talk to. Nobody's advice has ever really helped... because I guess...I'm so complex. I'm so fucked up~"

Joey hugged Rob and gave the side of his muzzle a kiss. "You can't let things get to you- and that is your weakness. You don't 'let it be' if it's out of your control. Being tough and dominant isn't everything. It's your weakness. Being tough is not a path to greatness- being stoic and bottling up what you're feeling is not a solution. You let things build up until like yesterday, you erupted in an ultra-Plinian like volcanic eruption..."

"...You've been watching Bill Nye with Alvin haven't you~"

Joey grinned. "Science!"

Rob cynically laughed. "I can't believe you compared me to a volcano."

"Well it sounds a lot better than being described as the love child of Nixon and Hitler!" Joey laughed. "You know me and Maverick have long discussions on which historic Nazi figure you partially match. I'm convinced its Hitler, and Maverick thinks you're Goebbels~"

Rob just stared at Joey. "Danke."

"Bitte~" teased Joey.

Rob closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't even know what else to say to that joke. Joey put his arms down lower around Rob's chest area for a bear hug and gave him an encouraging squeeze. He nuzzled his husband affectionately.

"You've been through a lot, so I understand why you're you."

"I'm complex- I don't even understand myself."

"An understatement." Laughed Joey.

"You're lucky you're my husband..."

"I'm lucky to have you." Joey grinned as he rubbed his nose against Rob's.

"Yeah? Why me?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well I'm curious, Joey. Of anyone, why me?"

"'Cause you're genuine, dingleberry~" laughed the Doberman. "I've seen and yeah, banged many people when I was a stripper. Eat my heart out Roberto, you teenage chasing fuck! Ha! And I've come to realize that a lot of people are manipulators, users, abusers, and attention seekers. Beauty is superficial. And when you're no longer convenient to them? Poof, gone. You're genuine, Rob. You are you, and you're gonna do what you're gonna do and fuck what other people think. I like that~ And I think you're beautiful. Scars, everything. You're beautifully imperfect. So there ya go~"

"Well thank you, Joey~" Rob nodded. A smile crept up on his face.

"See? Made you smile." Laughed the Doberman.

"I guess you did." Rob chuckled as he got a kiss on the lips from Joey.

"But seriously...you can't beat everyone up when things don't go their way..." Joey admitted a bit more seriously. "That you need to work on, big time. You won't always get out of legal trouble..."

"True- I'm not Donald Trump." Rob shrugged, only to wince from a sore shoulder.

"Oh my god..." Joey rolled his hazel eyes with a laugh. "Now that Colt kid? After what he did and said to Alvin? Yeah, fuck that guy- and you really used a telephone on him?"

"I got upset."

"You gave the kid a damn concussion with a telephone- now that I'll admit, is badass~" Joey laughed.

"Yeah fuck that hick. Cow-fucking cowboy." Rob shook his head.

Joey gave Rob a squeeze and a playful lick. "Things are gonna be okay."

"I hope~" grimaced Rob.

---

One Week Later

Lazily following I-71 south from the air, Rob flew towards Cincinnati. At two thousand feet, he bobbed in the turbulent warm air, in his husband's newly restored P-40E Warhawk. Taking it up for a test flight, the rather drably painted Warhawk cruised along the -71 corridor. Its Allison powerplant hummed along, driving its silver Curtiss Electric propeller. The big slab-sided nose bore a gaping shark's mouth design, with the name "Bataan" written in yellow. It was a hybrid scheme, playing homage to the Flying Tigers, with the shark mouth, and the rest of the plane painted in its original markings as an Army Air Force interceptor based in the Philippines.

Strapped into the armored seat, Rob flew the Warhawk in his period flight attire. Rob peered through amber tinted goggles as the slipstream rushed through the open canopy and ruffled his fur. He flew alone, through the cloud choked, cyan sky. He was enroute to Cincinnati, to land at Batavia's airport, to meet Special Agent Dove at the airport. He wanted to have a chat with him. Due to the pandemic, meeting him at the FBI's building in Cincinnati was out of the question.

Rob periodically kept his head on a swivel, navigating by dead reckoning. He watched the puffy clouds pass by him, and periodically checked his instrumentation. His left paw held onto the stick, and his right arm rested on the sill, feeling the immense slipstream push against it. His headset crackled alive periodically from radio calls from ATC and other pilots in the area. He took the time alone to just think introspectively.

There was no other plane in sight as Rob flew, skimming along a few clouds. He was alone in his region of sky. It was how Rob felt all the time- alone. He glanced around at the empty sky, admiring the puffy clouds that drifted by "Bataan". Rob felt like those clouds, just adrift, and lost in an empty sky. Even amongst friends and family, Rob sometimes felt alone, like he didn't belong anywhere. He felt like he was just drifting along, with no anchor to attach himself anywhere. There was nobody else like him, but Rob felt that maybe that was for the better. The life he lived was chaotic and dysfunctional, fueled by bouts of rage and hatred, and lulls of sadness and depression. It was though he was on the outside of the world, looking in at the people around him.

Circling around Batavia's airport, Rob descended in for an uneventful landing. The Warhawk touched down on its main gear first, and Rob cut the throttle to idle, to gently set the tail wheel on the pavement. "Bataan" rolled out under the watchful eye of Agent Dove.

The Tristate museum was closed, but standing at the fence was Dove and his eldest son, sixteen year old Alex. The gray wolf watched as Rob taxied up in the P-40, right on schedule as Dove checked his watch. An airport employee let him on the tarmac as Rob shut the Allison down, the glimmering propeller coasting down to a stop. Instead of his formal FBI attire, Dove wore gym shorts and a gray t-shirt. A Bengals baseball cap rested atop his head of wavy brown hair. Dove walked up to the aircraft and stood by the wing leading edge, to watch Rob slowly make his way out of the cockpit.

"You certainly know how to arrive in style~" chuckled Dove as Rob jumped off the wing.

"I do what I can." Rob responded in a blank sounding tone.

"So this is your new whip?" Dove pointed out. "I like the shark's mouth scheme on this one."

"This is Joey's Warhawk. It's an amalgamation of three airframes, but most of it was from airframe that fought during the Philippines Campaign, shot down in March 1942." Explained Rob. "It's a hybrid paint scheme Joey chose- most of it's the original scheme it wore in the Philippines, but the Shark's mouth design is homage for the Flying Tigers."

"My grandpappy fought to liberate the Philippines. He's gone now, and I'm thankful he told me those harrowing stories."

"Japanese were fierce fighters and- okay, enough of the chitchat, Dove. So what the fuck is this community service bullshit?"

"Oh, right, yeah, before you collapsed..." Dove recalled. "Look, it was a compromise I got for you from the city of Akron, the FBI, and the feds. It was community service for four months? Or federal prison on terrorist charges."

"Terrorist charges...what a bunch of fucking bullshit." Rob shook his head. "I killed terrorists! Here they are wanting to charge me with terrorism while the motherfuckers who were actually terrorists get carted away to prison with kid gloves!"

"...well you did blow a building up and it caused a lot of damage."

"Absolute bullshit." Rob cut in.

"I was helping you out." Dove said more seriously. "I put my ass on the line for you, because I ended up getting dragged into it!"

"Yeah, 'cause you and the rest of the feds are spying on every aspect of my life it seems! Along with millions of other Americans no thanks to the patriot act!"

"No comment..." Dove quipped sarcastically. "Look, I did you a favor, in a bad situation, and you should appreciate it! You gotta swallow your pride, Rob. And you wouldn't want to go to federal prison... god help the OTHER prisoners..."

"So now I'm gonna be someone's bitch for four months at a community center..." Rob rolled his eyes.

"It might do ya some good? Learn new perspectives?"

"That people are stupid?"

"Well...I can't argue with that." Dove laughed cynically.

"And the fact that it's in Akron...so that means I have to fly there four days a week! I gotta turn the company back over to Maverick, and watch this whole thing crash and burn." Rob scoffed. "It just had to be Akron where the Abramovich family lived at... It just had to be Akron!"

"Technically Barberton, but..."

"Shut up."

"Hey, hey! Don't talk to a G-man like that!"

"Sorry~"

For an hour, Rob and Dove spoke on the empty tarmac. It was a tense conversation that turned more relaxed and cordial as Rob and Dove spoke about what had happened the day he collapsed. Dove revealed that he did CPR on Rob until the ambulance arrived to shock his heart back into rhythm. It helped Rob calm down, and show a bit more appreciation. The topic returned to the issue of community service, which Rob begrudgingly accepted, after venting his complaints out completely. Once their conversation was over, Rob let Alex Dove look over Joey's P-40, and even take a bunch of photos of it, before climbed back in to fly back home.

"Hey you have a safe flight Rob~" Dove waved. "And tell me how your first day of community service go!"

Rob grumbled to the subtle jab at the end and waved. He started the Allison up, and in a cough of glycol smoke, the V-1710 revved up to life. Dove and his son Alex watched Rob depart and soon take off for the clear skies, to fly north-east, back to Newark.

Rob climbed for altitude and leveled off to be amongst the clouds. He returned to Newark a half-hour later, but continued on flying, heading north-east, towards Akron. Rob flew over Coshocton and followed the roadways to Newcomerstown, and made a banking left turn to navigate the I-77 corridor. It took him over the industrial heartland of Canton, and finally, Akron.

From the air, Akron was a mix of old neighborhoods and industrial wasteland. Old brick factories and silent smoke stacks jutted into the air. Neighborhoods were hemmed in by trees, crisscrossed by a labyrinth of roads. I-77 split off into I-76 in the distance, bisecting Akron. He flew over an old Firestone factory, and the famous Goodyear factory, peering down in his bank. The University of Akron came into view, and Rob passed over, descending in to get a better view. There he found the community center he was to work at, a decent sized building that doubled as an additional city library. Rob made three laps over, observing the landscape around it. He noticed a used car lot, and a couple fast food joints. His final pass came in at tree-top height, the Warhawk roaring over people's heads and catching some attention as Rob climbed to begin flying home.

As he climbed away, he happened to fly over the scene of his daring rescue of his nephew and husband the year before. An abandoned factory had once stood in that spot, having been quietly turned into the hiding place of the Abramovich family, a bunch of Serbian nationalists, self-styled Chetniks. In his rescue, Rob accidently blew up half the building. Now Rob saw that it was just an empty lot, with a bulldozer pushing bricks off into a giant heap for disposal. The wolf-hybrid shuddered at the memory. Checking his fuel and instrumentation, he began the flight back to Newark.

---

It was nighttime, and Rob sat alone in his personal office, down in his basement. His personal office had walls that were painted a deep golden yellow color, with almost every square inch covered by photographs, certificates, and a few old posters hawking broadcasting stuff. The wall behind Rob was completely adorned by bookshelves, which held an endless array of flight manuals, camera booklets and documentation, and some model aircraft and spacecraft. There was a bookshelf completely dedicated to storage of videotapes. Various Betamax, U-Matic, VHS, D1, and D2 cassettes sat on display, labels out. It was Rob's own personal little space where he could retreat to, away from everyone.

Rob sat at his desk, which held his computer. Above the desk was a giant Samsung TV bolted to the wall. The big desk was strewn by paperwork everywhere, looking like an organized chaos as Rob did multiple things at once. The wolf-hybrid was preparing to turn the company back over to Maverick, as he prepared begrudgingly, his forced role as "community volunteer", for the city of Akron. On his desktop, he had a webcam conversation with his best friend Maverick, the big Russian husky, and his adopted nephew, Marcus Barion, a white and gray Swedish husky with blonde hair and goatee. They were discussing the switchover.

"I'm going to be out of the loop again for some time over this bullshit community service..." Rob explained as he tapped his pen on the table.

"Well I'm feeling much better now, so I think I'm ready to dive back in to play damage control!" Maverick responded with a laugh at the end. "Let's see what more we can fuck up!"

"Heh, burn the company the ground?" Rob joked cynically.

"Like the rest of this year?" Marcus chimed in.

"Like the rest of this country?" Rob added.

"Now that's a good idea!" Maverick pointed out. "TRUMP TWENTY-TWENTY! BURN AMERICA TO THE GROUND! PFPFFPFFFTTTTTTTTT!"

"Heh, now that would be a campaign promise kept~"

"Da!"

"Okay, serious here." Rob cut in. "The company is facing a crisis, and we have to manage it, in order to save it. And I trust you two, and Felix, can do that in my absence...I'll be available to help, just not all the time."

"Understandable, Rob." Marcus nodded as he took down a note on his laptop.

"Not really looking forward to being treated like slave labor for a community center..." Rob grumbled, looking away momentarily.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad. You volunteer at the homeless shelter every Thanksgiving!" Maverick pointed out.

"Yeah, on my terms~" Rob grunted. "Oh the fuck well, get it over with, just like this year. Let 2020 just die."

Maverick and Marcus both agreed to that.

"Plus, I need to work on my health..." Rob admitted. "I've lost too much weight and mass."

"You look like you've been on the Auschwitz diet~" Maverick quipped morbidly.

"Turnip tops and potato peels~"

"Garnished with grass clippings..."

"...it's to die for."

Marcus burst out laughing. "Wow, that's so terrible...but funny."

"I try!"

Rob covered his face and chuckled a bit. He shook his head out of how terrible the joke was. "Motherfuckers."

"Made you laugh though~"

"You did, Mav-O." Rob quipped with a smile that emerged. "But seriously, I need to get back into shape..."

"Well you can work out in Anton's closed up gym..." Marcus suggested as he grabbed his phone to write a text message.

"Everything's closed up...you know...this whole crisis...this is what incompetency looks like." Rob shook his head. He glanced up at his second monitor to notice a new notification, an incoming video call, from Anton Savchenko. "Hang on you two~"

Rob accepted the request and waited for it to connect to him. Rob leaned back in his plush leather seat, to watch the video connect, only to show Anton's bare, tattooed ass on the video. The tan and beige Ukrainian husky was wearing just a jockstrap and a tanktop as he was turned around, doing something with his bed. He had a distinctive koi fish and lily pad tattoo on his rear end that covered the right cheek and around his hip area. The husky had both his arms sleeved in black and gray artwork, and a chest tattoo. His goatee and short stubby Mohawk were dyed dark blue.

"Hey turn around~" Rob called out, which got his attention.

"Oh shit! My bad!" the husky laughed. He had a deep, hearty laugh, with a thick Ukrainian drawl to it. He scratched his bulging crotch, which left nothing for the imagination. "I was putting something away- been working out...keeping my guns in shape."

"So I notice..." Rob shook his head jokingly.

"Such a prude, Rob."

"Shut up~" Rob retorted.

"Hey, Borr told me that you're looking to get back in shape?"

"I see my messages travel far~" Rob chuckled a bit. "And admittedly? Yes...badly. I have lost a bunch of weight...I've been weakened."

"It happens with illness~ Well, I'm more than able to help you...since my gym is closed by the city ordnance on account of his pandemic..."

"How've you guys been doing on money?" Rob asked.

"Eh, Borr, Ben, Anatoly and Vasily, they're all okay. We're keeping our heads above the water...but I'm pissed! My beloved gym! Closed! Because of this damn fucking pandemic! I can't make money with a closed gym! And worse! Hot guys can't rail me in the ass there!"

"Oh man that's gotta be rough..."

"Very!"

Rob just closed his eyes and shook his head with a cynical smile. "Think you can help me out on the weekends or something?"

"Absolutely!" Anton agreed. "Plus you can try my mean borscht and dumplings!"

"Hey!" Maverick shouted. "You tell that Anton that if that borscht has apples and beans in it to replace the beet sour, then he better change his fucking tampon!"

"I'm gonna fuck you up Maverick! You Russian cocksuckers stealing my people's food!"

"BEET SOUR IT IS MOTHERFUCKER!"

"Easy there." Rob cut in.

"And for the record! The only thing I put in my mouth is this cool ass thermometer I picked up at Good Will!" the Russian husky laughed as he held up a big glass thermometer with a silver tip at the end. "Yeah boy! I test this every morning to make sure I didn't get the corona!"

"Last I hear it's kung-flu." Anton rolled his blue eyes, overhearing Maverick through the audio in the other window.

"Yeah, I guess if you're a bloviating, orange gasbag or something~"

"Uhh Maverick?" Marcus spoke up. "Uhh, that's a rectal thermometer."

"Uhh, excuse me!?" the Russian husky fired back as he examined his thermometer in shock.

"Yeah, Mav, that's a rectal thermometer. You put it in the wrong hole..." Rob added.

"OH MY GOD NO."

Rob burst out in laughing, along with everyone else in the video chat. "And yes Anton, I'd love to try it. I appreciate it~"

"Good~"

Finishing up his video calls, Rob closed out for the night. He said goodnight to his nephew in his basement room, and went upstairs to say goodnight to Felix and Tony. He stepped into his room to find Joey asleep. Rob slowly climbed into bed and shuffled his way into his spot, wincing a bit on account of his back and joints. Rob closed his eyes and felt Joey scoot himself over to pull him into his muscular arms. He leaned over to kiss Rob and nuzzle his face.

"Good night stud~" Joey muttered.

"Night, Joey~ Love ya."

"Love ya too~"

Rob laid in bed looking up at the ceiling for a moment, pondering just what his next adventure, at the Akron community center was going to bring him. He knew there was going to be a load road ahead for his physical, and in some ways, emotional recovery from everything that had happened. The tired wolf-hybrid closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, taking comfort and solace in his husband's warmth.

---

The very first rays of light broke over the eastern hills outside of Heath. The morning sky was still dim as the propeller to Rob's P-47, began to turn. Urged by its whining starter, the big Double Wasp clanked and groaned as its Curtiss Electric propeller lazily turned. Rob counted the blades as he held down the starter, waiting for the moment for the right moment to engage the magnetos. At the ninth "blade" Rob engaged both magnetos, and with a mighty cough and backfire, the R-2800 ignited in a cloud of oily smoke. Cold cylinders chugged away as smoke sputtered and coughed. The whole airframe of his rare Curtiss built P-47G resonated to the thundering of pistons in front of him. His mechanic Vlado assisted over as he made sure Rob was secured in the spacious, razorback cockpit.

"Alrighty, there you go!" the burly Croatian wolf called out over the engine noise. "You're all set, Rob! Have a safe flight!"

"Heh, thanks~" Rob waved off as Vlado jumped down. The tattooed up wolf pulled the chocks away and retreated back, as Rob released the brakes to begin taxiing. "The Spirit of N'erk, Uhhia" rumbled down the tarmac and turned for the service road, its burbling engine propelling it along. Rob taxied to the runway, made the turn and momentarily parked for a final scan of his instrumentation. He gripped the throttle and opened it up fully, commanding maximum takeoff power. The engine roared to life, and the big paddle-blades to his cuffed Curtiss unit clawed the cool morning air. Rob accelerated down the runway with his brutish Thunderbolt, holding the tail down as he built up speed. Rocketing past a hundred miles per hour, he nudged the stick back and pulled away from the runway. The galloping "Jug" climbed skyward, into the cool September morning sky. The sun emerged from the hills as Rob climbed away, blasting Rob with its amber rays. He banked to the left and began his flight towards Akron.

Climbing to two thousand feet, Rob leveled off and reduced the throttle to cruise power. The Thunderbolt cruised at 250 miles per hour as Rob navigated by dead reckoning. He took the time to just admire the scenery, as the morning sun cast long shadows on the Ohio countryside. Foggy farm fields took on a beautiful glow as the sun cast everything in shades of amber. September sunrises and sunsets were always distinctive to Rob; they took on a unique brilliance he could always spot. But it always gave him an ominous feeling, as winter began to loom in the far distance. Following the roads, he passed over Coshocton and Newcomerstown, and made a left turn to travel up I-77. It wasn't long before the industrial landscape of Canton, then Akron came into view, as Rob maneuvered around to enter the holding pattern for the Akron-Fulton Airport. He made two passes, and got approval to descend in for landing.

"The Spirit of N'erk, Uhhia" smoothly came in, with a perfect three-point to stick the landing. The olive drab and neutral gray P-47, with its cowling ringed in white, rolled onto the tarmac, catching the attention of ground crews as they watched the rare warbird stop. Rob ran the engine lean, before cutting the mixture. Ground crew approached and chocked the wheels with rubber chocks. Rob unstrapped himself and climbed out in his khaki colored flight gear. He jumped down off the wing and stumbled a bit, the wolf-hybrid catching himself on the fuselage.

"Mister Barion! Good morning!" greeted one of the airport employees. "Quite the ride you got there!"

"Heh, thanks. Don't scratch her up." Rob joked as he turned the plane over to them. He had worked out an agreement with one of the airport's fixed station operators, "Scottwood Aviation", which let him use one of their hangars for shelter of his aircraft. He removed his flying coveralls, to reveal himself in khaki shorts and a gray polo shirt. He placed his uniform and helmet in the cockpit and let the ground crew push it back into the hangar. Rob checked his watch and waited for his Uber to arrive. He dreaded the idea of using a taxi.

Right on time, at seven-twenty, an Uber pulled up to the airport terminal. A little gray Honda Fit. Rob opened the door to find a young Doberman driving it, who greeted him with an enthusiastic voice. Rob buckled himself in and they took off, for the community center. Rob read e-mails on his phone as the Doberman talked enthusiastically about Akron, and how he had grown up there and graduated from the University of Akron. Rob conversed back here and there, and occasionally looked up from his phone as he responded to e-mails coming out of Virginia. As the commute went on, Rob started to grow more annoyed as his driver would not stop talking. Rob's responses grew shorter, more irate sounding, as he struggled to focus on what he was doing. He began to grind his teeth.

"It's a rough town in places, but man I'll tell you what, it's got-"

"Dude, shut the fuck up." Rob snapped. He stared at the driver with an angry, annoyed expression on his face. "Jesus titty fucking Christ, shut the FLYING FUCK UP!"

The Doberman looked away and grew quiet, as Rob grumbled and went back to writing his e-mail out.

It was a ten minute commute across Akron, to get to the community center, and the Uber dropped Rob off at the front. Rob paid the driver and did thank him, which he took off in a hurry. Rob closed his eyes and shuddered to having to do that again. He turned around to look at the building he was to work at, an old brick building that read "Akron Community Center" etched in stone. He looked around at his surroundings; further down the road he could see the campus of the University of Akron, and across the street, was a used car lot. Down the road, there were some fast food joints; an Arby's, McDonalds, and a Wendy's. Rob turned and looked ahead at the community center. It had steps leading up to the entrance. He closed his eyes, took a slow inhale, and secured his surgical mask around his muzzle. He began to walk up the steps, to begin his four months of community service.

He stepped inside a lobby area to find that it branched off to a library and computer lab, and the community center itself. He checked himself in and was directed to meet with the administrator of the whole facility, Dan Householder. Rob walked down a corridor to see a cafeteria area, where a few people mingled, and some offices down another hallway. Rob approached the kitchen area as directed, where he heard a bunch of yelling beyond the double doors. Someone calling a "bunch of stupid kids" incompetent. Bursting through the double doors was a burly, chubby older wolf, who had a short crop of graying hair atop his head. He stopped in his tracks to look at Rob. His face looked flushed and sweaty.

"Good morning!" he greeted, sounding all friendly. "You must be Rob Barion?"

"Yep."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Dan Householder, administrator of the community center..." the wolf greeted. He held out a paw, which Rob stared at, then at his face.

"Social distancing, Dan."

"Right, yeah, sorry, so yeah, you'll be working in the kitchen and helping out there." Dan explained as he pointed. "Helping to prep and cook food and wash dishes. I'll also be needing you once in a while to help clean the bathrooms."

"Yippee."

"Heh...you're not much of a talker are you?" Dan mentioned, an insincere grin curling up on his sweaty, pudgy face.

Rob slowly took his surgical mask off, and a twisted sort of smirk curled up on his scarred face. "I can already tell you're a colossal asshole. A loudmouth prick."

"I don't like you~" Dan chuckled with a shit eating grin on his face. "Get to work- the kids there will help point things out."

Dan marched past Rob, the wolf-hybrid's face growing stern again as he stepped in through the double doors. He found the kitchen awash with activity, as volunteers worked the stovetops and prepared food. He found what looked like a bunch of college students at work, with a few older workers in the background.

"Hey." Rob greeted. He looked a bit uncomfortable as he approached.

"Oh hey!" greeted a cheerful wolfess with long auburn hair. She looked to be no older than twenty-one/ "You must be the new volunteer."

"Yep. Name's Rob."

"Nice to meet you!" she greeted. "Ally Stapleton." She introduced the others in the area around her. "This is Haley Richards, Tyrone D'Angelo, Matt Mercer, and Ben Winters."

Rob scanned the group as Ally pointed them out. They were all about her age; Haley was a blonde haired wolfess with very pale gray fur and blue eyes, Tyrone was a burly Rottweiler, Matt was a red furred Doberman, and Ben a white furred Samoyed with tousled brown hair. They all greeted Rob rather warmly, as the wolf-hybrid nodded in acceptance.

"So what do you want me to start off with? I must say...nobody exactly prepared me."

"Oh trust me, it's always a fly by night operation here." Ally laughed. "Come let me show you around!"

Rob was given a tour of the whole community center and library. The library was a branch of the larger Akron public library, and it sported an attached computer lab where Rob saw a few kids on the computers, doing school work. Ally mentioned casually that the schools were closed because of the pandemic. The library was quiet, and what few people were there, mingled about the aisles of books that were available. The community center itself was composed of a cafeteria, a recreation room that had a couple pool tables and arcade machines, bathrooms and a shower room, and a small medical clinic, run by a local church. Most of its morning clientele looked like burned out drug users, being treated by sympathetic medical attendants. It was casually mentioned that most of the clientele that came to the center were the underprivileged, destitute, of Akron.

Going back to the kitchen, Rob began his first day at the center helping to prepare lunch for the noon crowds. He spent the rest of the day washing dishes at the big industrial sink.

---

At four o'clock, on the dot, Rob left for the day. With his legs shaking a bit, an exhausted wolf-hybrid made his way down the stone steps of the community center. Looking mentally tired, Rob walked down to the sidewalk and stood for a moment, to assess his options in getting back to the airport. It was too far to walk, and he certainly didn't want to do something like get an Uber again. As he thought about his options, Rob exhaustedly leaned against a telephone pole. His eyes tracked a car that was driving down the road. Rob followed it until his blue-green eyes stopped at the car lot, directly across the street. He took notice of an orange pickup truck, a third-generation Silverado. It's front grille gave it away as one of the heavy duty models, like the 3500HD's he owned back home to support his businesses. He didn't see that vehicle on the lot in the morning when he glanced over. Feeling curious, Rob limped across the street in a quiet lull, and took a closer look.

Half an hour later, and fourteen grand less in the bank account, Rob drove back to the airport in his new whip. The wolf-hybrid sat behind the wheel to a 2015 Silverado 2500, a rather bare-bones work truck. It had an extended-cab and a long eight foot bed. It had once belonged to Kokosing, and still bore reflective stripes along the truck bed from its days as a construction truck. It had some dents in the rear fender and the tailgate was dented up on top. The bed of the truck had a black spray-in liner that was all dented and scratched up. It had 168,000 miles on the frame, and the suspension felt a bit worn out. Four Nexan tires spun on the road, but they needed replacing; the lack of rotating them wore the rear tires out, which were nearly bald. The front didn't look much better. Under the hood burbled a "six-oh" Vortec V8, a gas motor. Rob had scheduled an appointment at a local Firestone shop to get the shock and struts replaced, and a new set of his favorite Firestone tires, the Transforce HT. It would bring the truck up to his standard.

Pulling into the airport, Rob was let onto the tarmac, where he pulled into the Scottwood Aviation hangar and parked the truck next to his P-47G. Exchanging the truck for his plane, he suited back up and departed, for the half-hour flight back to Newark. He flew low this time, skirting along the countryside at tree-top height, to enjoy the rush as the scenery passed by. He returned over Newark, and felt happy at seeing his hometown again. Climbing for altitude, he made it back to Newark-Heath and came in for an uneventful landing. He turned the Thunderbolt over to his museum crew, and got into his Tahoe for the final drive home.

Following a shower and dinner, Rob retired for the night, his legs aching badly as he got into bed with Joey. Rob sat in silence for a moment, propped up by some pillows as he blankly stared off into space. Joey walked around the bed to get into his spot, the Doberman undressing himself to be in just a white tanktop and his snug briefs. He crawled into bed with Rob and sat next to him.

"Long day, eh?"

"Yeah, my legs are shot." Rob admitted as he tried to lean forward and rub them. "Standing for just about eight hours has just fucked them all up... I'm outta shape, Joey."

"So just dish washing and cooking basically?"

"Yeah, basically that. I washed a bunch of dishes, then I helped cook food. It's like high school lunch all over again, but for the destitute." Rob explained. "A step above prison food."

"Well I wasn't expecting fillet mignon~" grinned Joey with a chuckle. "But I know what you're talking about. How do you like your co-workers?"

Rob just grumbled under his breath. Joey chuckled at Rob's response. He already knew what the answer was.

"They're just a bunch of dumb college students- a few retirees volunteering. But most of them are a bunch of dumb college students from the University of Akron." Rob explained.

"Ah, youth~" chuckled Joey. "We're old farts now. You've hit boomer status."

"Pfft, yeah right." Rob scoffed. "I hate boomers. If there's one group of people I'd put in an oven? It's baby boomers."

"Whoa, Hitler, easy does it." Teased Joey.

"Shut up, Joey~" Rob rolled his eyes. "They're nice folk- in their very early twenties...but their world view... Jesus Christ...it's so stupid and naïve. Everyone has an answer to every problem in the world, and it ain't gonna solve it. It's just feel good green party, liberal gobbledygook!"

"I thought you liked strong opinions? Like yourself?" Joey asked, teasingly provoking a response.

"Yeah, but base it in fact. That's the key difference!" Rob exclaimed. "All of them will learn one day. Life will beat the shit out of them and open their eyes up."

"Yeah...tell me about it." Joey chuckled. "Anymore I feel jaded to everything's that going on."

"Pfft, I've felt like that for almost twenty years now." Rob grumbled.

"Well it could be worse, you could be dealing with a bunch of conservative farts~" Joey shrugged.

"True~ I'd be listening to shit peddled off Trump patriot dot R-U or something." Rob chuckled cynically. "At least liberal gobbledygook isn't based out of some thinly-veiled desire to uphold white male supremacy."

"True..." chuckled Joey. "Or people making excuses for blatant and poorly done lying and gaslighting... You know the Orange Julius doesn't let facts stand in the way!"

"Ha!" Rob laughed.

"Made you laugh didn't I?" grinned the Doberman.

"You did, Joey. You're perfect at that~"

"Perfect you say?" he grinned bigger.

"Let's not get carried away there, Joey." Rob smiled as he leaned forward to resume rubbing his sore legs. Joey took notice, and scooted himself over to massage Rob's tired calf muscles.

"Thanks~" Rob complimented. He laid down and rested his head on his pillow, breathing a sigh of relief.

---

Saturday morning traffic was light on the outerbelt of Columbus. Rushing along the exchange ramp to I-270, Rob merged his red Tahoe into the lane and continued on his journey to Westerville. He had the whole lane to himself as Rob engaged the cruise control and sat back for Cleveland Avenue. After four days flying back and forth to and from Akron, Rob was beginning his weekend exercises with Anton Savchenko, to get his body back into shape once again. In the passenger seat sat his backpack, which carried spare clothes, a water bottle, and his "sexy jock", a salacious gift from Anton and his boyfriend, Borr Eklund. It was jokingly "mandated" by the Ukrainian husky, and jokingly encouraged by Joey.

Taking the Cleveland Avenue exit, Rob made the left turn onto the four lane road, and drove southbound, towards the Home Depot. He made a right turn onto a side street, and made another right turn into a gravel parking lot to Anton's gym. His gym was housed inside what was once a maintenance depot for the city's division of streets. The concrete building had its three door maintenance garage turned into the main gym area.

Rob parked his Tahoe next to Anton's truck, a white crew cab Chevy one-ton, which had once belonged to Rob. Hopping out with his backpack, Rob approached the building, finding a handwritten sign on the door reading "Closed due to COVID-19, per city ordinance until further notice". Rob could sense the disappointment in Anton's handwriting; the pandemic was hurting everyone everywhere.

Rob stepped inside to hear music playing. He walked through a narrow hallway to find Anton and his boyfriend Borr lifting weights in the empty gym. A crashing set of weights startled Rob momentarily. Anton sat flexing his tattooed arms on some weights, his boyfriend Borr, a white gray Swedish husky with long blonde hair tied into a Viking braid, smacked his paws after dead lifting a few hundred pounds. Both huskies were tattooed up, and wearing nothing but their jockstraps. Borr was Rob's employee; he was his head videotape engineer for archiving old tapes.

"Rob! Glad you could make it!" Borr exclaimed with his squeaky Swedish accent. He had his chest tattooed, which ran to a sleeve on his right arm, ending at his wrist of black and gray artwork. He had a perfectly chiseled chest and six pack abs. Anton got up, the burly Ukrainian husky looking like Borr body wise, with a colorful chest tattoo of the Ukrainian "tryzub" coat of arms, and an American flag wrapped around it. He had both his arms tattooed to the wrists, and his distinctive butt tattoo wrapped around to his right hip area. Both huskies left nothing to the imagination with their bulging jockstraps.

"How are you feeling?" Anton greeted, his deep voice taking on a warm tone.

"A bit tired, admittedly."

"Well, we're gonna wear you out!" Borr exclaimed with a grin.

"Oh boy~"

Rob spent the next couple hours slowly exercising. Under some playful pressure and prodding by both Anton and Borr, Rob broke down and rather reluctantly changed into just his "sexy jockstrap". It was black with dark and bright blue accents on it. On his atrophied body, it looked loose compared to the snugness of the two huskies. Rob visibly appeared a bit embarrassed by it, even in the privacy of a shut down gym.

Rob started off by exercising his arms with a little blue five pound dumbbell. It was a laughable little weight compared to the hundreds of pounds he was watching Borr and Anton casually deadlift and throw to the ground with a massive slam. His arms ached and burned as Rob upped the weight from five, to ten pounds. He struggled along until his arms felt like rubber. Taking a short break, Rob then spent forty minutes walking on a treadmill. Even at a slow, steady pace, at the end of his forty minute walk, Rob felt pretty well seized up. His hips, knees, and back simply hurt too much. Rob ended his exercise lying on the ground, looking up at the ceiling in a haze of pain. Borr walked over and picked his boss up. Rob got back up onto shaky, exhausted legs.

"Why don't we get cleaned up and eat some lunch~" Anton suggested.

Rob was helped to the shower room, which was nothing more than a giant concrete room that was once some service area. Exposed piping was bolted to the walls, connecting a set of gang shower heads. A large drain sat in the middle of the slightly sloped floor. Thick, frosted windows near the ceiling provided some ambient light. Fluorescent lights sealed in their diffusers hummed. Borr walked ahead and turned on two shower heads, to get the water nice and hot. Nonchalantly, the husky stripped his jock off and tossed it aside, letting Rob see everything as he unbraided his long ponytail for a shower. Borr was well endowed, his big, ebony, uncut member making Rob blush. He turned his head, only to see Anton playfully grinning at him. The Ukrainian husky put his arms around Rob, those beefy tattooed arms snaking around him and rubbing his belly and suddenly pulling his own jockstrap down. Rob really blushed then by his friend's assertive move.

"Let's get you cleaned up~" he smiled. He released Rob from his affectionate grab and took his own jock off, revealing his big tan member flopping out for Rob to see. Anton was just as big as Borr's soft member, thick and uncut with a perfectly tapered hood to his cock. Rob knelt down and picked his jock up and tossed it aside on his backpack. He walked over with Anton and stepped into the hot stream of water, which immediately felt heavenly on his tired and sore muscles. Borr walked over and put his arms around Rob for a moment, holding him against his frame. The tall husky nuzzled the top of his head, and he playfully caressed his chest and belly, before clamping both his big paws over his soft cock and holding them there. Anton squirted some soap into his paws and lathered Rob up, starting with his chest and working his way down his belly and arms. It doubled as a much needed massage, and it further helped Rob relax as he grunted and groaned to sore muscles being worked. Anton had a very strong grip. Rob loosened up as he turned around and felt the husky scrub his backside down, complete with a very relaxing shoulder massage. His joints popped and cracked to Anton's grip.

"You sound like my old man Rob..." Anton quipped as he rubbed the back of Rob's neck slowly.

"Well...I'm a bit beat up."

"Heh, heh, so I notice." Anton chuckled. He pressed himself up against Rob's backside, with Borr pressed up against him on the front. They both had their arms around him.

"Wow, I don't want to say to all this attention." Rob quipped in an embarrassed tone.

"Husky lovin'~" Borr chuckled. "Relax! You're amongst friends."

"You're really tense..." Anton pointed out. "You need to relax~ It's just us."

"Sorry...Yeah, I don't know, I just get uncomfortable..." Rob tried to explain. It came across really awkward.

"It's why your joints probably ache so much! You're so tense about everything!" Borr exclaimed.

"That's probably why your butthole's so tight." Anton teased.

"I liked it~" grinned Borr.

"Yeah, yeah~ Keep talking about my little sexual exploration a couple years ago...I just...sexual stuff and people being salacious makes me a bit uncomfortable because-"

"You're a prude?"

"No Anton!" Rob exclaimed. "Because I'm married and I should be fucking and being fucked and caressed by Joey!"

"The only thing you fuck are my finances- HA! Oh Rob easy!" Borr grinned as he jumped back to Rob forming a fist at him. Rob took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

"I'll admit...I'm sexually frustrated."

Borr walked back up and caressed and rubbed Rob over with his lover. "You've been through a lot this year."

"Me and Joey fucked a couple times, and it always ended on a bad note...with me..." Rob explained. "It's my damn back and hip area."

"...Which got crushed by a propeller." Anton pointed out in a slightly sarcastic tone. "It's to be expected those need a long time to recover."

"They also are kind of the flex points during sex~" chuckled Borr. "I know a thing or two~"

"Oh I can only imagine..." Rob stared.

"It's understandable that you're sexually frustrated." Anton nodded in understanding.

"I just...don't want to let Joey down~"

"You're not going to~ I assure you that." Borr reasoned. "It's been a bad year for everyone..."

"Heh, you could be one of the hundred and fifty plus thousand people who are dead from the kung-flu." Anton shrugged.

"Or the millions of people who still think the president is competent!" Borr added with a snort at the end.

"That too~" Rob rolled his eyes.

"So just relax...we'll take care of ya~" Anton smiled. He nuzzled Rob's neck and put his arms back around him.

"Heh, sure~" Rob agreed. He ducked his head back under the hot stream of water, and soon felt Anton putting shampoo in his hair, to give the top of his head a massage. Rob slowly began to relax once again.

---

Two Weeks Later

Bursting through the clouds, Rob did a corkscrew descent into Akron-Fulton. Descending in his olive drab P-40F, Rob lined up for the runway, and battled a good crosswind for a skewed touchdown on the centerline. Working the rudder, he kept the Warhawk straight down the runway, bleeding off speed.

Arriving to his hangar, Rob taxied in a slight zigzag fashion, to see over the nose. "Yellow 2" arrived with the purr of its Merlin 28 under the cowling. Rob stopped in front of the hangar, briefly ran lean, and then cut the mixture. Rob waited for the propeller to coast down before climbing out. He gave the Warhawk a brief examination in a walk around, finding no damage, to his relief. He stood for just a moment to admire the rather drab paint scheme he gave the Warhawk; it was painted as a stateside advanced trainer during the war years, in early war markings. It's only splash of color aside from the yellow "2" on the nose, was its half red, and half white propeller spinner. He turned it over to the mechanics, and left in his work truck, for the community center.

At the community center, Rob began his day washing dishes and trays at the big sink. In a tedious, assembly line manor, Rob grabbed a dish, gave it a squirt of water from the faucet, and scrubbed it with a scouring pad. Another blast of water to rinse it off, and in it went into the dish holder. Rob repeated the process without delay. He wore a rubberized apron over the front of his clothes, and big rubber gloves to keep his paws and arms dry. He kept to himself and worked quietly, while his cohorts bustled about behind him. After two weeks, Rob had finally started to get a routine schedule at the community center; he washed dishes, and when that was done, he would go and help prep or serve food. Then it would be back to washing. Sometimes he was assigned to sweep the steps and sidewalk outside, or mop the cafeteria floor. Rob did it without complaint. He maintained his stoicism.

Behind him, he could periodically overhear the silly, laughter choked conversations that his much younger cohorts were having. Alley and Haley oversaw food prep, cutting up vegetables, or doling out portions in preparation for cooking. Ben and Tyrone ran the two big griddle cook tops, and Ben worked the oven. They were much more outgoing than Rob, who just kept to himself. He didn't say much to anyone, frankly. Rob wasn't there to chit-chat and be social; he was there to work, and to avoid further legal problems for himself.

Rob placed the last cleaned dish in the tray and picked the whole thing up, to carry out to the cafeteria. He walked past the others, overhearing another silly conversation of theirs about the political woes the nation was facing. It was just "liberal gobbledygook" as Rob called it; they were all young, filled with ideas that Rob felt were just naïve and unsustainable. Haley grumbled about being in debt, a gripe echoed by the others. Ally suggested about the government bailing out college students. Tyrone mentioned something about "reparations for slavery", which Rob just rolled his eyes to. The wolf-hybrid simply felt so out of touch with all of them. Even Ben, who Rob found out was openly gay, just didn't resonate with him at all. There was just nothing there. Rob felt "old" in their presence.

Rob pushed through the double door and carried the tray to the serving area, where he sat it down and grabbed another tray of dirty dishes ready to be washed. He was appreciative that his workout sessions in Anton's closed gym were starting to pay dividends. As Rob carried the tray with him, he noticed a young kid run by him, leaving the library's computer lab to go to the cafeteria. He frequently seen the young boy, who oddly resembled a very young version of himself. He was a wolf who had brown and sandy tan fur, and tousled brown hair atop his head. Sometimes he wore a baseball cap that covered it. Rob mulled momentarily about his own childhood, before going on his way to clean more dishes.

"Oh Rob~" came Householder's voice. The wolf-hybrid stopped just at the door and turned to look at him.

"Yeah, Dan?"

"Hey, Billy called off...could you clean the bathrooms for me today?"

"Yeah sure." Rob agreed. "I gotta wash these dishes."

"I'll get Ben to do those, if you can clean the bathrooms."

"Well, okay then." Rob shrugged. He walked into the kitchen and sat the tray down. As he left, Householder pushed his way in and ran his mouth at the others in the kitchen in his usual griping. If there was one person Rob couldn't stand more, it was Householder. He was a Perry county hick who thought he knew it all. Loud mouthed, full of himself, and supposedly so morally superior. Rob couldn't wait for November to come.

Going to the supply closet, Rob grabbed what was specified to clean the bathrooms; a mop and big bucket, a bottle of bleach and orange Ajax soap, and some all purpose cleaner spray for the toilets. He tossed them into the bucket and made his way to clean the men's bathroom. He set up the "closed for cleaning" sign, and propped the door open to get everything ready. Rob grumbled under his breath about being a "damn merry maid".

Attaching a hose to one of the sink faucets, Rob filled his mop bucket with hot water. He poured a quarter-bottle of bleach into the water, which immediately filled his nostrils with its overpowering stench. He took his bottle of dish soap and squirted a hefty amount into the bucket, which was stirred by the mop to create some suds. Rob took his time and mopped the floor with a slow swirling motion of the mop. The tile floor took on a wet sheen as Rob cleaned, the room filled with the smell of bleach and citrus. The bleach burned Rob's nose a bit with each breath. After cleaning the floor, Rob sat the bucket aside and grabbed an anonymous bottle that read "cleaner" on it. Apparently the label had fallen off or something. He shrugged his shoulders and slapped on some rubber gloves, to begin cleaning the toilets.

Spraying the cleaner onto the porcelain, Rob took paper towels and cleaned the lid and seat. The cleaner had an odd smell to it as Rob sprayed some more, to wipe down the handle. He took a breath and felt his throat burn a bit. His nose started to burn more. Getting up, Rob blinked a few times, his eyes starting to sting, and water up. Breathing was suddenly starting to really hurt. Rob dropped his bottle of cleaner and stumbled back. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, Rob struggled to get his breath. He tripped over the closed sign and fell to the ground with a thud. The crash of the sign falling over got the attention of a server, who ran over to help Rob. He called for help, and others responded, as calls for an ambulance was shouted out. Rob then lost consciousness.

---

The following day, Rob cleaned the woman's bathroom, completely encased in a chemical suit. Dressed head to toe in a grayish-green Soviet L-1 suit, Rob slowly mopped the bathroom floor, breathing through a similarly colored IP-46 mask. He peered through rounded eyepieces, sealed completely in the suit. A corrugated hose ran from his mask to a dark green rucksack strapped to his chest, which he modified with a charcoal filter and oxygen bottle. The hood that sealed around the mask was secured by a neck strap, his rubber trousers having similar straps to hold the suit to his legs, along with its integral booties, which squeaked a bit on the wet tile floor. It was Rob's awkward way of shielding himself from the fumes, after yesterday's trip to the emergency room.

He had apparently been rushed to Akron's emergency room, as he awoke in the ER, being treated for chlorine gas exposure. Apparently the cleaner he used had ammonia in it, and it reacted with the bleach he used to clean the floor, to create enough chlorine gas to make him sick. He spent a few hours in the hospital on oxygen to purge his lungs, along with some bronchodilators to open his airways up. Another day wasted in the ER.

Rob put the mop and bucket aside and grabbed a new bottle of cleaner. Taking no chances, Rob decided to start wearing the suit; it was one of his eclectic military surplus pieces he collected with his friend Maverick, who had the identical Soviet made suit. It wasn't comfortable, and it was very hot; made of a rubber impregnated fabric. He had nitrile gloves on which were covered by a thick pair of gray welding gloves, made of cowhide. Slowly kneeling down, he proceeded to clean the toilets in his protective suit.

Emerging from the bathroom, Rob got quite a few stares by passersby. Making sure the wet floor sign was in place, he undid the neck strap, pushed the hood off and yanked his gas mask off. Rob took a deep breath and breathed a sigh of relief. His hair was a tousled mess.

"Hey! Glad to have you back!" came Householder with his shit eating grin. The chubby wolf dabbed a napkin to his sweaty forehead. "Heh, that new suit thingy of yours work pretty good?"

Rob just glared in response. "Yeah." Was all he said.

"Alrighty~ Good work on the bathrooms~" Householder chuckled as he continued on his way. Rob ground his teeth in frustration. He loathed that man. Shaking his head, Rob grabbed his mop and bucket and took them back to the supply closet. Checking the clock on the wall, it was time for his lunch break.

Removing himself from his suit, Rob grabbed a tray and got in line to grab some food. It was like reliving his early years in school. He got a scoop of fluffy white mashed potatoes, a generic salad made up of lettuce, red cabbage, and carrot shavings, a packet of ranch dressing to go with it, and chicken nuggets, complete with honey drizzled on it. He got a carton of chocolate milk too, to relive his childhood lunch experiences.

Rob walked over and sat at an empty table, where nobody bothered him while he ate. He could take his surgical mask off and just breathe normally for once. The wolf-hybrid slowly chewed on his food as he observed the others. In the two weeks being here, he found that most of the folks who came to the community center for food were Akron's poor. Some were drug addicts that were seeking help at the small clinic that was run by a church group. Burned out, sullen expressions filled the cafeteria. Grizzled, tired, aged men and women, some with their kids all came to fill empty bellies. Rob fit right in with his own burned out expression.

As he dragged another chicken nugget through a pool of amber honey, Rob watched the young kid he observed bebop his way into the cafeteria with an eager pace. With a book tucked under his arm, he grabbed a tray, and got in line and was served the same meal Rob got. He then made his way to a table, and slowly ate his food, while reading the book. It reminded Rob of himself during his lonely childhood years. He remembered all the lonely school lunches by himself, his mind escaping that reality by reading a book. He had such a striking resemblance of himself as a kid. He never saw or got any hint that kid had any parents; he only saw him coming into the center alone, and leaving alone. It made Rob think and ponder.

After returning to the kitchen and washing up another set of dishes and prepping food, Rob ended his day sweeping the steps and sidewalk. Armed with an old fashioned straw broom, Rob swept dust off the concrete steps. He worked his way down and swept the sidewalk in front of the building in his usual pace and fashion. It was a gray, drab day, and it looked like it was going to rain; slate colored clouds hung low, poised to open up over the city. The wind that rustled Rob's windbreaker had a slight "bite" to it. It was clear that fall was fast approaching, and winter loomed on the horizon. The trees by the community center were starting to change color, the dull, tired green slowly transforming into shades of ochre, and orange. Soon everything would be in color, then gone.

As Rob leaned against his broom to catch his breath, he heard the doors to the center open and close, followed by the sound of footsteps down the stone steps. It was the kid, quickly making his way down, with a backpack bouncing on his back, and carrying a bag full of food, encased in Styrofoam containers. Rob watched him walk down the sidewalk, with no jacket or anything. He seemed oblivious to the slight chill to the breeze that rustled the trees. As Rob observed, he felt a drop of rain splash against the top of his nose. The heavens opened up and it began to rain, big, heavy drops. Rob stood watching that kid just continue on, as the rain began to grow harder. A really sad feeling hit Rob, as he was forced to retreat back inside, as a downpour came down. That kid was going to be soaked and cold. He took pity on him.

---

Sitting at a red light, Rob sat alone in his work truck, watching the rain bead down the windshield. Upon getting the green, Rob took off for the airport, his new tires sloshing on the worn out pavement. A tired look graced his face as he thought about the flight back to Newark, in inclement weather. Beyond his immediate thoughts about flying his Helldiver home, Rob kept thinking about that kid, walking home alone in the rain. The vision played back in his head like an endless loop. A heavy feeling weighed in his heart. How could anyone let their kid be alone like that? Without a coat or hat? His thoughts only made more questions than answers.

Returning to the airport, Rob parked his truck in the hangar, and suited up to fly his Helldiver home. "The Barion", an SB2C-5, dressed in the markings of his late grandfather's dive bomber, was prepared and readied to fly him back to Newark. In the rain, the Twin-Cyclone was fired up, and smoke hacked from the exhaust stacks. The thick wings were unfolded, and the portly dive-bomber began rolling, urged along by its cuffed paddle blade Curtiss propeller. Departing Akron, Rob guided the lumbering Helldiver into the air, which soon slipped from view, into the dark overcast.

Bright sunshine greeted Rob as he burst through the cloud deck, his eyes momentarily blinded by the intensity of light. He pulled his amber tinted goggles over his eyes and skimmed along the clouds, guided by his radar, which had its transmitter and receiver shackled under the left wing in a white pod. A seventy-five gallon drop tank balanced out the weight on the right side. The glossy sea blue plane flew about as well as it looked; Rob thought his grandfather was mighty brave going into combat with a machine that felt heavy and sluggish at the controls. With the turbulence at a minimal, Rob continued on, his mind soon slipping back into his thoughts about that kid.

Returning back home, Rob found himself taking a shower with his husband Joey, in the cramped bathtub together. Steam enveloped both of them, while Rob stood in the hot stream, trying to relax tense muscles. Joey lathered up his black and tan fur, the Doberman sensing Rob's heavy thoughts on his mind. His body language and pose- an arm propping him up against the wall, gave it away.

"Rough day?" Joey asked.

"Not really, but something's been on my mind after I saw this leaving work." Rob admitted.

"Oh yeah?"

"I was out sweeping the sidewalk, when I notice this kid- I always see this kid at the community center. He can't be any older than like ten or something. All alone, all the time I see him. And he was leaving the center, and no jacket, nothing. Carrying food. And it started to rain, and I just watch him bebop his way down the sidewalk in the rain, like this was normal."

"Wow." Joey muttered in a sad, sympathetic way.

"It's just- how could someone do that to their kid? Where's his Mom and Dad, you know? It just hit me...made me think about my own childhood. He reminds me of myself, when I was nine or ten."

Joey nodded and put his soapy arms around Rob to pull him close. "The world is a messed up place."

"It is- especially this year. It just pisses me off- we live in a world where goodness is murdered and mediocrity thrives." Rob grumbled. "So I don't know...it's been on my mind. But I shouldn't get involved... that's not my fight."

"Good intentions sometimes have bad consequences."

"Especially with kids..." Rob shuddered. "You make any wrong perception and they're slappin' sex offender on you."

"Pfft~ I wasn't going to take it that far!" Joey laughed. "I was just going to say you'd make a family pissed for interfering in their affairs."

"That too~"

"Pick your battles they say~" Joey smiled as he gave Rob a playful squeeze, with a little "grr" at the end.

Retiring to bed for the night, Rob slowly crawled in first, followed by Joey, who crawled in on the other side. He slowly crawled over Rob and laid atop of him, a smile on his face. The Doberman gently caressed Rob's face and gave him a gentle kiss. Rob returned the gesture by placing a paw behind Joey's head and pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Joey obliged with his lips locking against Rob's; Rob savored playing with his tongue while they made out. Getting one more deep kiss out of Joey, the Doberman broke his lips away and laid out beside Rob. He gently caressed Rob's belly and chest and smiled at him.

"I needed that~" Joey smiled.

"Yeah, same here."

Joey laid beside Rob, his head resting on his shoulder while they talked for a bit and caressing each other, before going to bed. Joey fell asleep with an arm draped around Rob, while he laid on his back, struggling to fall asleep in the darkened room. His mind, filled with jumbled thoughts from the day, kept him up. After a while, Rob finally did drift off to sleep.

"Awakening" in a dream, Rob found himself walking down a sidewalk in Akron. The landscape looked run down and miserable. The sky was a bleak slate gray that ominously hung low, swallowing up smoke stacks. Rob stood on a sidewalk, near the old downtown of Akron, surrounded by towering brick buildings that looked dilapidated. There was a feeling of sadness that Rob could sense; like a crushing, heavy feeling against him. He looked around at his surroundings, which seemed to grow lost in smog, far in the distance.

There were footsteps that caught Rob's attention, the shuffling sound of scurrying feet, echoing off the bricks and sidewalk. He turned to where the sound was coming from, his eyes spotting that kid walking with a bag of food in his grip. There was a content look on his face as he walked by Rob, oblivious of his presence. The wolf-hybrid watched him continue on, down the block, only to disappear around a corner. Rob began to walk in that direction, feeling compelled. His pace quickened as he walked down the cracked and uneven sidewalk.

Rounding the corner, he looked for the kid, only to find two young adults, in the midst of a drug trade. Rob took note of the wolf who wore the same clothes as the kid; a faded red shirt, and sweatpants. It was then that he realized it was the kid, who had suddenly become a young adult in his twenties. He sported a tattoo sleeve on his right arm, and his sweatpants were sagging. He still carried that bag full of food. Rob watched as he took a bag of drugs from another wolf, only to suddenly hear gunshots ring out. Rob didn't flinch as he watched the wolf in the red shirt pull out a gun and start firing at a car that was speeding away. Rob yanked out his Glock and ran forward, watching as the other wolf was struck and killed, his body falling to the sidewalk. The brown wolf in the red shirt stood over the body, clutching a silver PPK that smoldered blue smoke. Rob ran up to him. His presence alerted the wolf, who slowly turned around. Rob's face grew ashen. He suddenly stared at his own face.

The kid, who transformed into the young adult, was now transformed into himself. A tired, ragged face, with a thunderbolt shaped scar down the left side, stared back at Rob. Green eyes were dead and empty. Rob took a step back from himself, only to watch the wolf slowly walk away with his bags. He disappeared down a darkened alleyway. Rob walked over to where the body lay, and slowly kicked it over. He suddenly stared down to see the kid himself, lying in a pool of blood.

Rob awoke with a gasp, his fur soaked in a cold sweat. His chest rose and fell heavily from his hard breathing. He touched his face to feel it soaking wet. Realizing it was a dream, Rob slowly calmed himself down. He slowly got out of bed, to avoid waking Joey up, and left his room, to dry himself off and regain his bearings.

---

Quietly going downstairs, Rob rounded the corner at the base of the steps and walked towards his home office. The hallway was very dim, lit by a couple nightlights that glowed along the wall. Rob stopped for a moment to check on his nephew Alvin, who had his room in the basement. Rob poked his head inside to find the teenage Dober sound asleep, which brought a reserved smile to Rob's face. He gently closed the door and stepped into his office.

Flipping the switch, the floor lamp in the corner fired up, casting his office in a warm glow. He always took a moment to just gaze at the posters, certificates, and photographs that sat framed on the wall. Rob proceeded to walk over and sit down at his desk, a finger smacking a key on his Model M, to wake the desktop up from its slumber. He was greeted on his two monitors by his desktop, its wallpaper depicting a photo of two F6F Hellcats sitting on his tarmac. They were Rob's fourteenth anniversary gift to himself and Joey. He opened the file explorer on one monitor and clicked his way through his archive of photos, stopping at a folder named "1999" and finding a portrait of his teenage self. The wolf-hybrid gazed at his photo with a hard, introspective stare.

On the monitor was seventeen year old Rob, posing in a portrait filled with colored spotlights, on what was meant to be his senior year portrait. His friend Vlad shot the photo, and he could still recall all the specifications to it; A Nikon F2, shot with a 50mm f/1.2 lens, on a roll of 200 speed Ektachrome. His youthful face beamed from a friendly, genuine smile. It was a blissful period of his life, right before his fateful gay bashing that transformed him into the disgruntled, bitter man he was now. Rob shuffled through photos of that period in his life, most of them shot by Vlad Tokarev. There were photos of him and ex-boyfriend CJ, looking all happy at the pool, sharing a kiss, and being all affectionate. It truly was a brief, happy, period in his life, that was cut all too short. The final photo was of Rob working his first broadcast camera at White's Field, covering a football game, in the early fall. It was a low angle shot of himself handling his HL-95B Betacam, the picture a bit washed out from the glare of the brilliant lights above him. Even in that photo, of himself focused on what he was doing; his face looked genuinely happy, devoid of the scowl that replaced it.

Rob sat back in his chair and realized something; he no longer recognized that part of his life. It was him in the photos, but Rob felt dethatched from it, as though all the years of chaos and reeling from his gay bashing just separated teenage Rob from adult Rob. Going back through the other photos, Rob felt a huge detachment from it all, like a surreal feeling that that was him in the photos. That kind of happiness that he extruded was extinguished in one stroke of wanton violence in 1999. He backed out of that folder and went to a more recent picture of him, a portrait his friend Xan took in 2018. The official portrait of himself for Barev, it was a photo of him standing with his arms menacingly folded against a chair. A slight lean forward registered as aggressiveness, and his stone cold, angry glare on his face, the consequence of the facial paralysis he suffered from his bashing. His face had taken such a beating over the years; the gay bashing, along with a nasty car accident that threw him through the windshield at high speed, and a plane crash. The dark, jagged scar on his face was a somber reminder to what had happened, but also a badge of honor to him, that he survived. But at what cost? Rob wasn't sure to that answer.

In a final move, Rob looked back at some older pictures. He pulled open a photo taken twenty-nine years prior, a picture of a nine year old self, and his twin-brother, Jake Barion. It was a fall photo, taken in the backyard of his childhood home on McKinley Avenue. He and Jake were posing in a pile of leaves, and Rob figured most likely that his mom took the photo. Nine year old Rob was dressed in a red sweater and khaki pants, laughing with his brother as they threw leaves in the air. His wavy brown hair was neatly combed back and had a wet shine of Brylcreem on it. It brought a bit of a chuckle to Rob; he still sported that hairdo, inspired by Ronald Reagan, and given to him by his grandfather way back when. It was neat and professional looking as always, and his grandfather taught him how to comb it and put Brylcreem in it. He was a spitting image of that kid at the community center.

Rob closed out of the photo and put his computer back to sleep. He rolled to the side and sat forward, propping his head up on his paws, his elbows resting on his lap. He took it all in and reached an almost immediate conclusion. He had to do something to help that kid. It was the right thing to do.

---

Paying zero attention to what was going on around him, Rob stood staring at the chrome wall, washing dishes. Behind him, he could hear Householder doing his usual berating and bitching at the college students, who grunted and groaned in their defense of their work in the kitchen, as the big fat wolf put them down for "incompetency". Rob kept his mouth shut.

It was a monotonous process; Rob grabbed a plate, scrubbed it clean, and rinsed it off. He then placed it in the big dish strainer to dry. He did that repeatedly, his paws encased in thick black gloves. At least it helped kill time in the sometimes hot and uncomfortable kitchen. Try as he might, he couldn't completely tune out Householder, who finished up with a "stupid! Stupid!", before storming on out. Then he could hear the college students bitch and complain about Householder, calling him a "prick" and a "fatass hick". Rob thought it was amusing to hear from the same people who groaned about political correctness, and how people shouldn't call others names, or use labels. Again, Rob kept his mouth shut, to keep the peace.

Finishing up on dishes, Rob placed the last dish in the strainer and put it over where the cleaned silverware sat at. He took his gloves off and sat them by the sink. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Haley approach.

"Hey Rob~" she asked with a bubbly valley girl kind of voice. "How come Householder never bothers you?"

Rob smirked a bit. "Because he knows I won't put up with his shit~"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't mess around." Rob shrugged as he took his rubber apron off and hung it up to dry.

Haley pursed her lips and nodded a bit. "You're quiet Rob- you never talk to us here!"

"I'm not here for social functions- I'm here to pay off a legal debt." The wolf-hybrid quipped as he checked the time on his phone. "And lunchtime~"

Rob spun around and made his way out of the double doors, to go grab his "school lunch". He donned his surgical mask and got into a spaced out line to get some food. He grabbed a tray and went down the line. Today's meal was honey and brown sugar baked ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, and roasted vegetables. Rob watched it get doled out by Ben, the Samoyed working the serving line. From a tray that sat in a tub of ice, Rob grabbed a pint of chocolate milk, and sat it on his tray. Making a turn, he scanned the cafeteria, to find the kid, sitting alone at a table. The young wolf sat eating his food slowly, while reading a book from the library. Rob knew he had to make a move. He slowly made his way over to the table.

"Hey buddy, you mind if I sit here with you?" Rob asked curiously. It got the wolf's attention, who looked up at Rob. "Sure~" he responded with a soft, gentle voice.

Rob sat down, opposite of him and peeled his mask off, which he neatly folded and put in his polo's pocket. He grabbed his plastic cutlery and stabbed it out of the plastic. "I appreciate it~"

"Do you work here?" the kid asked. "I see you here all the time."

"I volunteer here, yeah. I work in the kitchen, and clean." Rob responded. "Name's Rob Barion."

"Sam~" the kid responded.

"Well nice to meet you, Sam~" Rob mustered a smile for him. "I, uhh, see you here quite often."

"Yeah, with school closed, I have to come here to use the computers for class." Sam nodded. "It used to be I'd come here after school to get food."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Well, I have to help out around the house." The wolf responded with a shrug. "Mom's work schedule sometimes won't allow dinner, and Dad? Well... he won't make dinner. Sometimes they're both just not interested... they just sit on the couch, out of it. Or something."

Rob blankly stared at Sam. "I see~" was his response.

"That's why I'm here all the time." Sam concluded with a smile that briefly emerged as he looked up at Rob.

"Do you live close by?"

"Not really. It takes me about an hour to walk here."

Rob stopped mid-chew. "An hour."

"Yeah."

"You walk an hour here?"

"My Dad says it builds character."

"How old are you?"

"Nine."

"You're nine years old, and you walk here...an hour away..."

"It's no big deal really. Sometimes I get cold, or I get wet. Is what it is." Sam said with such a nonchalant, unconcerned voice. "Do you live in Akron?"

"No, I'm from Newark. I got a bit of a commute to come up here, four times a week." Rob chuckled as he took a sip from his milk.

"Ah. I live on Goodyear Boulevard."

"A very fitting street name." Rob smiled. "Where's that at?"

"It's near the airport."

Rob blankly stared and blinked at the response. That was a huge distance away from the community center. "I see."

Sam ate a bit of his food, took a sip of milk, and went back to reading his book. Rob ate a bit of his food as well, and noticed that it was an aviation book on warbirds. That perked Rob's curiosity.

"What book you got there?"

"It's an airplane book. I'm trying to figure out what planes I've been seeing lately come into the airport." Sam explained. "They look like these old military airplanes in the book!"

"Oh!" Rob laughed. "That would be me, flying into Akron."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Those are my planes- I own a museum at the airport I run, Newark-Heath. I collect those old warbirds for preservation. They're also my transportation around the state- heh, I put them back to work."

"Cool!" Sam exclaimed. His face lit up excitedly. "When I leave my house to walk to the center, I see you flying over my house coming into land! I also see you taking off and leaving! It's cool to stand there and watch- very deep roar!"

"Heh, they are neat pieces of treasured history to fly." Rob chuckled. "Not for the faint hearted though. Some of those planes will kill ya if you're not skilled."

"Oh my."

"But, I've been flying for seventeen years, so I think I know what I'm doing~" Rob quipped with a hint of sarcasm.

Rob had found his opening to connect with that kid, and it took him by surprise. During his hour lunch, he and Sam had an almost endless conversation, which Rob got to know the kid more. He seemed like a bright, articulated, young boy; he talked candidly about being poor, in a rundown house in a rundown part of Akron, by a huge oil refinery. He talked more about how he was always at the community center; and now spent all day in the computer lab, because he didn't have a computer at home. All of Akron's schools closed because of the pandemic. He'd show up there after school to grab food for his parents. He was an only child. Rob wished that he had more time to speak with him, before his lunch hour came to an end. Before he left to go back to working in the kitchen, he promised Sam a ride back home, so he wouldn't have to walk in the rain. They said their goodbyes, and split up; Sam, to venture back to library's computer lab, and Rob, back to the kitchen.

---

As the clock neared four o'clock, Rob finished up his shift by mopping the lobby floor. The old linoleum had a sheen to it as Rob pushed his mop back and forth, the air filled by the scent of Pine Sol. He'd mop an area, then shove the mop back into the bucket and wring it out to clean another area. Looking detached from everything around him, Rob did his job in silence. It was his way to cope with the subtle stress of things.

Reaching the last corner, Rob jabbed the mop back into the bucket of dirty gray water, and took it over to the custodial closet to drain it in the big sink basin. He rinsed the mop with hot water and hung it up to dry over a concrete pad with a drain. He closed the door and locked it up, and went to go notify Householder. Rob then called it a day. He stood in the lobby, awaiting Sam. He promised the kid that he would give him a ride home. Glancing out the glass entrance, he watched the rain come down in another downpour. It had rained all day in Akron.

Emerging from the library was Sam, the kid running out with his backpack and bag of food. He spotted Rob and ran up to greet him.

"Come on, let's get you home." Rob announced as they walked towards the exit. Rob grabbed his umbrella from the rack near the exit and departed with him for his truck in the back lot.

Hitting the road, Rob's orange Silverado rumbled with the traffic, through a rain soaked Akron. The clouds were low and turbulent, as the rain came in waves, sometimes in a downpour, sometimes sprinkling. The wiper blades wicked it away on the windshield.

"Thank you for driving me home Rob~" smiled Sam as he watched the scenery from his spot in the front seat.

"I couldn't let you walk home in the rain." Rob responded as he braked for another red light.

"You get used to it after a while." Sam shrugged.

"And you don't even have a rain coat? A jacket?"

Sam shook his head no. "I used to...but it got torn up..."

Rob had to restrain himself from shaking his head in disappointment. "It's starting to get colder out there. You need to get a jacket."

"I've said this to my parents...but they don't have enough money."

"Not enough money?"

"We're having a hard time because of the illness going around. Mom's hours got cut at work. And my Dad doesn't work."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't think I've ever seen Dad work. He just sits at home...watches TV... smokes something, falls asleep."

Rob pursed his lips.

"My Mom works at the McDonald's on Market Street. She used to be able to cover multiple shifts...but they won't let her now because people have been getting sick. You know it's kind of scary!"

"I know that feeling, and I understand completely. This pandemic has been very unnerving, especially for myself, because I have health issues."

"You have health problems Rob?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look sick!"

"Heh, thank you." Rob laughed a bit, with a very jaded chuckle. "I got skeletal issues from some past injuries, and some breathing problems because of a lung injury."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, getting shot hurts."

"You were shot? With a gun?" Sam exclaimed.

"Unfortunately... multiple times too~ That's how I got a lung injury- bullet through the chest."

"Yikes!" Sam exclaimed.

"They say if it don't kill you, it makes you stronger~ Heh, heh, I respectfully disagree."

"My Dad got threatened by some guy with a gun once...it was scary. Right at our own house."

"I see."

"Okay, up here, you want to make a right turn~" Sam pointed, which Rob acknowledged with a nod. He found himself entering a rougher part of Akron, where the homes and businesses started to decline in appearance. Everything had a tired and bleak look to it, reminiscent to the dream he had. The road conditions began to decline as Rob felt the truck buck and shudder to the potholes and cracks in the road. The wolf-hybrid looked around at the roughness, and couldn't believe a nine year old was expected to walk alone through this area, let alone across town. It was a sad feeling of disbelief.

"So how'd you get those airplanes?" Sam asked him out of the blue.

"Sheer luck~" Rob laughed. "Well, a lot of money, patience, and knowhow."

"Ah."

"Warbirds are fascinating, beautifully temperamental machines." Chuckled Rob.

"They got a neat sound!"

"That's right! Much deeper, throatier~ It's a much better sound than the little whine a Cessna would give."

Making a series of left and right turns, Rob finally reached Goodyear Boulevard. It was a dead end street that was right behind a giant oil refinery facility. Flue towers shot flames into the sky, and steam hissed in the distance. The air had the heavy scent of petroleum. Sam pointed out his house, which was a small cape cod. Rob pulled up to find the home in shambles. The lawn was overgrown, and the bushes in front of the house were a haggard mess, overgrown with vines and other weeds. The beige siding was covered in lichen and mildew, and the roof looked like it was sagging in a few places. The dark green shingles were all beat up. There was a large window for the living room, and one of the panes had a big crack in it.

"Well thank you for the ride Rob!" Sam complimented as he unbuckled himself and grabbed his backpack and bag of Styrofoam packed food.

"Buddy I'll tell you what- I'll come and pick you up and take you home when I'm in town. How does that sound? I don't want you wandering in these parts alone."

"Oh, well thank you! I'll let my parents know~" Sam smiled. "I won't be so tired in the evening!"

"You have a good evening, Sam."

"Thank you Rob! Goodbye!" he waved as he jumped out to run through the rain. It brought a smile momentarily to Rob's face, before he backed up to turn around and head for the airport.

---

Feeling the vibrations of turbulence shake his aircraft, Rob held his feet into the rudder pedals and counteracted the yawing side to side motion of his Wildcat. Another new acquire for his museum, Rob sat strapped into the cockpit of his tubby FM-2, which was climbing through the storm clouds, to exit Akron. Its thick, square wings rocked to the turbulence, the tubby little plane clawing through the clouds with its three-blade Curtiss propeller. The single-row Cyclone-9, ahead of Rob, burbled with the putt-putt of its cylinders. At any moment, Rob knew he was going to punch through the clouds, into the brilliant blue skies above the rain storm. Crossing through thirty-five hundred feet, Rob watched as the sun exploded into view, the Wildcat finally emerging through the storm. Rain wicked away from the windshield in beads, glistening in the sunlight. Rob donned his goggles and reached up to slide the canopy open, to feel the slipstream blast against him. He could smell the scent of rain. The glossy sea blue FM-2 continued on home.

Rob sat in thought, watching his instrumentation, and observing the golden arc from the yellow propeller tips spinning outside his cockpit. From his first interaction with Sam, he got the impression of a boy who was seemingly aware of his impoverished life, but either not acknowledging it, for lack of maturity, or already resigned to fate. It broke his heart that someone, who clearly had such potential, be resigned to that kind of fate. He seemed like a kid who was intellectually curious, and willing to learn. There was hope, Rob thought, that maybe he could try and steer the ship in the right direction, by helping him out. Now Rob had an early trajectory on what he needed to do.

Newark had a break in the clouds, that allowed Rob to descend in. He flew low over the familiar landscape of his hometown. It always made him happy to see Akron's dilapidated landscape get replaced by Newark's own run down rustbelt landscape. Circling around for the airport, Rob dropped the flaps and stabilized the plane before gripping the landing gear crank. With all his might, he swung the crank to deploy the manually operated gear. It was a holdover from Grumman's FF fighter biplane. It took thirty cranks to drop the fuselage mounted gear into the slipstream, which was confirmed by the indicator lights. His arm ached and throbbed from the effort. Rob proceeded to descend in and flare for touchdown. The Wildcat bounced once on its spongy gear, and rolled out for a smooth landing. Rob returned to the museum's tarmac, where his mechanic Vlado greeted him. Rob hopped out and turned the plane over the Croat, who manually folded the wings up with his son Tito's help. Rob hopped into his Tahoe and quickly took off.

---

Keeping the runway lined up to the nose of his Corsair, Rob began the slow descent into Akron-Fulton. Reaching over to deploy the gear, Rob adjusted his throttle to maintain his slow descent. It was a calm, clear morning, with the rising sun off to his seven o'clock. Flying aboard the "Ensign Eliminator", Rob guided in his FG-1D, which had been recently been repainted in a sea blue Navy reserve scheme, complete with international orange band around the fuselage "star and bar". The wolf-hybrid made the landing with one paw on the stick; he smoothly brought his Goodyear Corsair in for a perfect landing on its main gears. He idled the engine and rolled out, bleeding off speed and gently touching the tail wheel on the pavement. Rolling off the runway in a slow turn, he folded the wings up and maneuvered into place, guided by the watchful eyes of the ground crew guiding him in. Rob ran the Double Wasp lean, and pulled the mixture to "cut", which shut the engine down. He climbed out after the propeller stopped turning.

Jumping down, Rob took his leather flying helmet off and did a brief walk around inspection of the plane. He signed off on his flight planner and stowed it back in the plane's cockpit. Climbing down slowly, Rob popped open the hatch that was once the radio compartment. Rob pulled out his backpack, which contained his chemical suit, the rucksack for his IP-46 mask, and a brand new, red and black backpack, filled with new clothes, for Sam. Rob carried them with him to load into his pickup truck. He simply placed them in the bed of the truck. Turning around and placing his right paw on the handle, he noticed the director of the airport approach.

"Excuse me, Rob, but do you know a Sam Martin?"

"No, I don't~" Rob shrugged to the question.

"Young brown wolf, maybe ten years old? Brown hair. We found him at the airport perimeter fence, by the incoming flight path, and he was asking for a Rob Barion."

"Oh my..." Rob muttered. "Yeah, I know that Sam~"

"He's in the terminal lounge."

Rob ventured inside to find the young wolf sitting on a couch by the window. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, despite the chill in the air. Rob called his name, and he came running over to greet him.

"Good morning, Rob!" he said with excitement to his voice.

"What are you doing here? And so early?" Rob asked him.

"Oh, I wanted to see you come in for a landing, but airport security found me."

"Heh, I appreciate it, Sam, but you can't stand by the perimeter fence by the flight line. They don't want you getting squished should a plane crash short of the runway!" Rob explained.

"Oh~"

"Heh, it's okay. Come, I'll take you to the center." Rob motioned. "And I'll show you my Corsair~"

"Cool!" the wolf exclaimed as he ran after Rob.

Going back onto the tarmac, Rob led Sam to his FG-1, which sat in front of the Scottwood Aviation hangar. Sam walked up to the nose and looked up in awe at how big the three-blade propeller was. "Wow~" he muttered.

"This bird was built right here in Akron, in early 1945." Rob pointed out. "Built by the Goodyear company, as the FG-1D Corsair." The wolf-hybrid took the kid for a walk around of the plane. He explained about its paint scheme, which depicted the reserve scheme of Naval Air Station Columbus Ohio. The tail of the plane held a large white "C" stenciled on it, which gave contrast to the glossy sea blue paint. The international orange band stood out prominently from the blue as well. Following their little walk around, they got into Rob's truck, and took off for the community center.

"I got a little surprise for you in the bed~" Rob mentioned as he drove.

"Oh?" Sam asked curiously.

"I'll give it to you when we get there." Rob smiled. "Thought you might need a lil' help."

"Okay!"

---

At the end of the day, Rob neatly folded his rubber suit up and stowed it into his backpack. He zipped it shut and threw it over his backside, and quickly left for the lobby, to wait for Sam. After a few minutes of waiting, he watched Sam scurry his way out of the library, with his old and new backpack bouncing with him. He wore his new jacket, a dark navy blue jacket that was partially zipped up around him. They left the building and walked around to the back lot to head home in Rob's truck. Rob pulled out of the lot with Sam, to begin the ten minute drive across town.

"I got a B-plus on my math test today, and another B-plus on a science test I had to take." Sam explained to Rob as he held onto his backpack.

"Hey that's great~ Congrats." Smiled Rob. "What do you see yourself being in the future?"

"Hmm." Sam thought. "Well...I like history. And I like reading. Maybe work at a library or something?"

"Aim big- sky's the limit." Rob suggested.

"I really don't know yet!" Sam giggled. "I'm just nine."

"Youngin'~" chuckled Rob.

"What did you want to be when you were nine?" Sam asked.

"Well...I wanted to be a cameraman since I was seven years old, and I had that dream come true. I got to be a student cameraman for my high school, and I started my own business in broadcasting, which grew into a multifaceted company."

"Oh neat~"

"A lot of headaches, but a lot of rewards." Rob concluded. "You got a long time to find your niche in life, Sam. One piece of advice...do what you feel is best for you, and if you love something? It ain't a job- it's a career."

"Ahh." Sam nodded. "I just...don't want to be like my Dad. I love my Dad, but he just has never worked, and I don't want to be like that."

"Understandable."

"Do you have a family, Rob?" Sam inquired, which caught Rob a bit by surprise.

"I do~" Rob responded. "I have my partner Joey, his nephew Alvin, an adopted son named Felix, and his partner, Tony."

"You're with a guy?"

"Yep."

"Oh, cool~" Sam nodded. "Do you have parents?"

"Sadly no." Rob frowned a bit. "They, uhh, both passed away some time ago. I was basically on my own from the time I was eighteen, but it is what it is."

"Oh." Sam frowned.

"But that's life- unfortunately. We all have our time to live and thrive, then we die. And the cycle continues."

"Unfortunately. Sometimes I wish we could all live forever!"

"Ehh, well I think if we all had immortality, nothing would ever get done. Our lives in the cosmic time scale, are very small, and I think that inspires us to do something with our time on this earth. If we lived forever, then there would be no incentive to innovate, or to make the world a better place. It could very well backfire on us. We are bound by the dictums of the great circle of life, but it's for our own good~"

"You're very smart, Rob~"

"Well...I've seen and been through a lot. It makes you think." Rob quipped as he came to another red light.

Returning Sam to his home, Rob pulled his truck up to the curve and parked it. Sam grabbed his backpack of new clothes and thanked him for his kind gesture. Rob looked out to see Sam's mother stepping out onto the porch. She was a really young gray furred wolfess, with light brown hair that looked a bit bedraggled. She lit up a cigarette as she waved at Sam.

"I will see you Tuesday Rob!" Sam waved as he hopped out.

"Alright buddy, see you then~" Rob waved as Sam closed the door. Rob waved at his mother and turned the truck around, to begin the short hop over to the airport. A feeling of emotional satisfaction calmed Rob's roughened nerves.

---

Sunlight filtered through the windows of Anton's gym. Over blaring music on the stereo, Rob strained against his weights as he worked his arms on a hammer strength machine. He breathed through clenched teeth, his arms almost trembling from soreness. His fur was moistened with sweat. The wolf-hybrid wanted to do just a few more, as he watched his husband Joey casually pump a few hundred pounds, under the supervision of Borr. In the corner of his vision, he watched Anton do crunches on a foam mat. Rob released his grip and stopped, feeling his muscles tense up as he tried to get up. Exhausted, Rob fell forward and landed on a foam mat. He was finally all petered out after a few hours of lifting weights and being on the treadmill.

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy!" Borr exclaimed as he rushed over to pick his boss up.

"Wow...I think I overdid it." Rob admitted to the husky, who propped him up.

Joey got up and flexed his beefy arms. "Easy there Rob~"

"You make it look easy, Joey."

"Heh, well, you're looking at perfection here~" grinned the Doberman as he posed and flexed in just his green and blue jock. He got a playful wolf whistle from Anton.

"Shower time!" a sweaty Anton pointed as he scratched his bugling blue crotch.

Getting into the hot streams of water, the group of four lathered up and got themselves clean. It was a time for bonding and chitchat. Exhausted, Rob was held up by Borr, while Anton did a courtesy and cleaned Rob up. Joey scrubbed himself down and chuckled at the sight.

"Rob, lot's of guys would kill to be you right now~" Joey chuckled amusingly.

"What, being all beat up and exhausted?" Rob sarcastically quipped back.

"I think being surrounded by hot guys cleaning you up is what I'm aiming for~" grinned the Doberman.

"Oh, gotcha~"

"Master of the understatement." Borr laughed.

Anton chuckled and rubbed Rob's chest and belly with soapy paws. Rob watched him as a soapy paw gripped his soft shaft and balls and got them soaped up. He did it in a rather playful, suggestive manner, which made Rob blush a bit in the presence of Joey.

"Easy there, Anton~"

"I'm cleaning ya up~" the husky chuckled, with a playful smirk at him.

"More like sizing me up."

"Heh~" he grinned as he stood up. "You're making good progress, Rob."

"Thanks." Rob nodded. He lifted an arm and held it under the hot stream of water to soak, which felt good against his sore muscles. Borr traded places and held Rob with his arms wrapped around him from the front, as Anton gave his sore shoulders and neck a massage. The sensation and soreness about dropped Rob to the floor.

"This kicks my ass every time...but I have to work out to get in shape." Rob winced to Anton's strong grip on his tired shoulders.

"Yeah, so you don't break a hip getting railed by Joey~" laughed Borr.

"Well... not gonna toot my horn to my prowess there~" grinned Joey in response. The Doberman saw Rob blush to his quip. "Oh come on Rob, lighten up!"

"We all fuck~" Anton added.

"Oh I know." Rob glanced back at Anton, who grinned at him.

"Heck my mom gave me the nickname 'drill'!" Borr exclaimed. He playfully grabbed one of Rob's paws and placed it down against his thick soft cock. "I drill with this!"

Rob just shook his head. "Lovely."

"Oh come on, mister prude~"

"I'm not a prude."

"Yes you are~" Joey chuckled. "Mister pajama pants here."

"Joey!"

"You wear pajamas?" Anton chuckled.

"Joey!" Rob hesitantly laughed. He looked terribly embarrassed.

"Relax~" Anton smiled. He put his paws around him and caressed him affectionately. "We're just fucking with ya~"

Joey walked over and caressed Rob and gave him a kiss. "I think this honestly does some good for ya~"

"Being caressed and slightly sexually assaulted by hot guys?"

Joey closed his eyes and smiled. "Oh my god Rob..." the Doberman broke down in laughter. "Rob! I let you sexually explore a couple years ago, and it did you wonders."

"...did my dick wonders~" Borr muttered behind Joey.

"I think you need to do it again."

Anton nodded. "In my ass this time~"

"Oh my god...what brings this on Joey?"

"Rob..." Joey chuckled. "I love you, I've been with you for fourteen years, I am perfectly fine with being monogamous...but I gotta bust a nut without fearing that I'm going to hurt something~ Remember how you nutted and twisted your back?"

"JOEY!" Rob shouted.

"Well it's true!" Joey laughed.

"You should listen to your husband, Rob." Borr suggested sarcastically. Rob rolled his eyes in response to Borr's quip.

Rob looked away for a moment. He turned to look directly at Joey. "Is that what you want Joey?"

Joey put his paws around Rob in an embrace, which Anton let go. "It's been a rough time for you and me- all of us in this country. I want you to recover and get better, physically, and mentally... I want you to sexually recover too...to get that tabooness you still have out of your system, and have fun! Plus I really need to bust a fucking nut~"

"In my butt!" Anton chimed in.

"Is our relationship, our marriage, going to be okay?" Rob asked.

"Why wouldn't it? We've been married for five years, together fourteen. We've been through everything- ups and downs, and pulling you out of a Mexican desert...so I think we'll be okay." The Doberman smiled. He gave Rob a tender kiss.

"Alrighty." Rob nodded. "Okay." He looked at Borr and Anton. "What do you guys think?"

The two huskies just grinned in response. Borr put his arms around Joey, and Anton put his arms around Rob.

"How about some lunch~" Borr suggested.

---

Leaving Anton's closed gym, Rob and Joey traveled over to Anton and Borr's home, just outside of Westerville. It was a two story house, made of dark stucco, that sat off from the road in a large field. A wooded area sat behind it, where a creek flowed. Across from the house was a large garage, which had a bedroom suite above it. That served as the home of Ben Reynolds, Anton and Borr's houseguest they've been caring for after coming to live with them.

Sitting out back on the porch, Rob and Joey marveled at the scenery. It was a sunny and mild day at the end of September. The trees behind them were just starting to show the early signs of changing colors.

"Gotta get my sun and warmth in before the weather turns into misery and cold..." Joey sarcastically grumbled.

"And more corona... you know it's gonna happen..." Rob shook his head. "We're already at what? A hundred and seventy thousand deaths?"

"But wait! There's more!" Joey laughed sardonically.

"That's every day of this year~" Rob bitterly laughed.

Stepping through the sliding glass door, Borr and Anton juggled with some food, which they placed on the cloth covered table. Anton had a big tub of borscht he had made, and his favorite potato pancakes, deruny. Borr sat a salad down.

"I tossed my own salad!" Borr proudly boasted.

"Whoo!" Joey laughed.

Sitting down with them, the group of four sat and ate lunch together. They picked up their conversation from the gym.

"There's some hope that maybe early next year, a vaccine might become available." Borr explained while fiddling with a beer bottle tab.

"Ehh, I don't think we're going to see an immediate vaccine, and even if we did? We're probably not gonna get it until later in the year because of manufacturing and prioritizing for who's most critical. Hell, we may never even get a vaccine." Rob explained.

"Never say never." Joey pointed out.

"Coronaviruses are difficult for vaccine makers- as found with MERS and SARS. Hell, with SARS, they killed a few people with the vaccine. It's a monumental, herculean task being run through the most incompetent government I have seen yet. Elect a fucking clown, expect a damn circus!" Rob griped, with murmured "yeah" amongst everyone.

Rob shouted. "Five million infections and a hundred and seventy thousand deaths- this is what happens when you don't do your damn jobs from the get go and you screw the pooch!"

"Unfortunately..." Borr shook his head. "And Sweden's as boneheaded as we are."

"I fear for this nation." Rob quieted down.

"At our gun store, gun sales are through the roof again~" Joey added. "People are afraid."

"Ooooh, the scary antifa is coming for them!" Borr laughed.

"Cities are burning, people are out of control, the government is out of control, and while this nation burns, China and Russia laugh. The sirens of fascism are enticing this populace into embracing authoritarianism." Grumbled the wolf-hybrid. "All because of a pandemic and a police killing. Which was wrong."

"There's a lot wrong with this country that gets swept under the rug." Joey shook his head. The Doberman bit into a deruny and chewed, before speaking again. "It's just coming out in the forefront now because people don't have anything else to do."

"There's legitimate problems, then people are co-opting these events for their own political agendas. It's stupid- it's fucking stupid." Rob rolled his eyes. "Then I have to hear it at the center in Akron. A bunch of naïve, hold-paws and sing Kum-Ba-Yah, college age socialists constantly whining and crying because they can't get free shit, and Bernie didn't cinch the nomination. It's ear rape. Every day. Then the boss of the whole place is this New Lex, Perry County hick who's dumber than a box of rocks on world affairs because he's got Trump's dick up his fucking ass. HOW. FAR. UP. YOUR. ASS. Does this guy's dick have to be? Before you realize he's fucking you?"

"Wow. That's one way of putting it." Borr nodded.

"You have a very special way of describing things, Rob." Anton chuckled.

"I try~" Rob shrugged.

"Master of the understatement, always." Joey grinned at him.

"Long story short- it's going to get worse before it gets better, honestly."

"Yeah, Rob, I agree." Anton nodded. Everyone reluctantly agreed.

Borr let out a loud, wet, belch. "It sucks!" he concluded.

"Heh, heh, I know what else could suck after this..." chuckled Anton, as he made eyes with Rob, who blushed.

"Well I don't know what kind of suck we're talking about, it sounds like something the doctor ordered!" Joey chuckled.

"I think that could be arranged." Anton smirked with a wink.

---

Flipping on the light switch, Rob stepped into Anton's bedroom first. Looking uncertain, Rob stepped aside as Joey, then Borr, and Anton stepped in and closed the door. He watched as Anton and Joey shared a joke and began stripping out of their clothes. Borr did the game gesture; crossing his arms and removing his tanktop to reveal his hard abs and tattooed chest. Joey took his tanktop and shorts off and kicked his underwear off. His thick ebony member flopped out, which was playfully fondled by Borr. Rob took his shirt off and paused; he felt honestly unsure, and that feeling brought a further feeling of discomfort to him. The nervous thought was interrupted by the feeling of Anton's tattooed arms slowly snaking around him, his muscular frame pressing up against him. The husky sure knew what he was doing as he took Rob's shorts off and kicked them aside.

"Relax~" Anton softly said. He smiled at Rob and nuzzled him gently.

Joey laid down in the bed first, and Rob followed. The wolf-hybrid slowly laid down, wincing a bit from a tired back. He felt so exposed, naked in the husky's bed. Joey, unapologetically nude, flexed his arms and laid down beside Rob. He reached over and caressed Rob's chest and gave him a kiss, to reassure him. Borr crawled into bed and gave Rob's stomach and chest a playful rub, with an inviting smile. He crawled around and rubbed Joey over, Rob watching as Borr's muzzle slowly sank onto Joey's soft shaft, which slipped from view. Soon he saw Joey, out of view, bobbing his muzzle up and down on Borr's member.

Rob was distracted by feeling the bed shudder; it was Anton, climbing over Rob, to lay on him, ass up. Rob watched as his bubble butt, with its koi fish tattoo on the right cheek came to dominate his view. He slipped a paw back to adjust his big floppy cock and heavy balls, and laid down on Rob. The wolf-hybrid was immediately greeted with a feeling of warm snugness, as his weight gently pressed him into the mattress. He was nervous, but the sensation gradually calmed him.

"Comfy, Rob?" Anton asked him.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" Anton chuckled. He gave his rear end a playful shake as he lifted his tail up. "Do you like the view?" He squeezed his thighs playfully against Rob's head.

"It's quite the view..." Rob said with a very hesitant chuckle. "I can't believe you have a tattoo of all places there."

"Great conversation piece~" the Ukrainian husky teased. "Do what you want- it's all cleaned down there~ So just relax...and let me take care of you!"

"O-o-okay."

"Relax~"

Rob laid there, staring at Anton's rump, as he felt the husky fondle his soft cock. His cut, soft shaft was gently stroked by a firm, strong paw. Another paw gently tugged and played with his balls, which tightened up from shyness. His cock was then engulfed in a wet warmth, as the husky lowered his muzzle onto it. Anton slowly began to bob his head up and down, trying to get the wolf-hybrid hard. Rob felt so weird, out of place, that he couldn't believe he and Joey were doing this, having sex with other men. He could hear his husband and Borr having a grand ole time, as they slurped and sucked on each other. Rob just closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He very slowly got hard for Anton; even pent up sexual frustration, overcame shyness. His soft shaft grew harder and stood erect at six inches, which Anton happily licked over and suckled on. His muzzle did feel good.

Opening his eyes up, he adjusted his arms and gently rubbed Anton's lower back and butt. His right paw traced the art design of his tattoo, which was nicely done. He spread his cheeks and saw his tight, pink star. He ran a finger down his asscrack, which Anton grunted at the sensation. The bobbing of his muzzle picked up pace a bit. Rob felt more comfortable, and began to enjoy the sensation of being sucked on again. His breathing was slow and he began to relax. Finally, the temptation was too much, and Rob gave in; he lifted his head and pressed his muzzle to Anton's rear, to begin rimming his hole. The husky grunted and moaned a bit to the sensation, the vibrations feeling good on his cock. Rob tongue fucked his hole, a dirty pleasure of his, and pleasured Anton that way. He felt the husky's cock grow chubby and slide against his chest. Rob got lost in his lust and only finally broke free, when he felt a paw gently rub the top of his head. Rob broke away to see Joey smiling at him.

"My turn~" the Doberman grinned playfully.

Joey climbed over Rob, and without pause, knelt his head down to give Anton's ass a good rimming. The husky grunted in contentment as he took a momentary pause from Rob's cock.

"Oh fuck~ Joey, don't be shy... put it in my butt!" Anton called.

"Oh I will~" the Doberman chuckled. His ebony cock was rock hard as he stroked it slowly, pushing and pulling his foreskin over the thick, pink, mushroom shaped head. He playfully smacked it against Anton's ass and rubbed it up and down between his cheeks, which Anton playfully murred to. Borr handed the Doberman a bottle of silicone lube, which he squirted and stroked onto his eight inches. He gave Anton's hole a squirt with some lube, and smeared it around with his cock teasingly. Rob always liked it when Joey did that. Taking aim, the Doberman began to feed his rock hard dick into the husky bare, the husky's hole immediately opening up and taking him, as he slid himself in.

"Oh you're a great bottom..." teased Joey, as he quickly hilted himself in.

"Love cock in my butt- ooooh, thick, I love it~"

Borr chuckled and watched with Rob. He gave Joey's backside a playful rub. "Show us what you got- I heard stories."

"Heh, you're gonna see perfection in action~" laughed Joey. Rob, from below, watched as Joey's shaft was slid out, just about to the tip, then rammed back in. He moaned in pleasure, and Anton grunted in satisfaction. The dog began to slam his cock into the husky, his heavy, full balls bouncing to the powerful thrusts. The bed creaked and groaned to Anton riding the Doberman's hard shaft. All Rob heard were the creaks and satisfied grunts as Joey fucked the husky. It was such a weird sight for Rob, to watch his husband do this. But those thoughts were interrupted as he felt Anton resume sucking his cock. Joey laid on Anton's back and continued his thrusting, with the wet "slap-slap" of hips. Rob playfully licked his lover's balls, which got a content moan from him.

"How bad you want my cum?"

"Really bad!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"You really want my cum!"

"Make it creamy~"

"Here it comes..."

"Oh yes..."

"Here it comes, ugh! Ugh!" Joey moaned. He panted and slammed his cock in, to fill the husky with his pent up load. Rob watched Joey's balls pulsate with his shaft as he came. The dog panted and grunted as he emptied himself into Anton, who moaned in pleasure. "Fuck~" was Anton's response. Slipping a paw down, Joey gripped the base of his penis and slowly pulled himself out. His cock was shiny from lube and cum as his thick, vein-bulged shaft pulled out. Some cum oozed out of Anton's hole, which pulsated from the husky's kegels. Rob was impressed.

"My turn!" Borr grinned. He traded placed with Joey and climbed over Rob, his big, snow white balls, gliding across, and resting on Rob's face. "Sorry!"

The husky knelt down and spat on Anton's cum slickened hole. He put some spit on his monster, nine inch cock, which was black with a pink head, like Joey's. He stroked his foreskin and put more spit on his head, which he fed into his lover.

"Love fucking huge cock in my butt!" Anton chuckled as he was ridden rough by Borr. The Swedish husky worked his cock fast and hard, to Rob, who watched him work like a jackhammer.

"Heh, I can see why your mom nicknamed you 'drill'" Joey laughed.

"Fuck yeah it's true!" he laughed. Borr pleasured himself for a good ten minutes of hard fucking, until he too came in the husky. Borr panted and grunted as he filled Anton up. He slowly pulled his cock out, and Rob felt a drop of cum hit him in the nose. It's scent was of pure, arousing sex. Anton gave Rob's head another playful squeeze with his thighs, and he reached back to feel his well used hole.

"That's better~" the Ukrainian chuckled.

"You, uhh, bottom really well..." Rob complimented jokingly.

"Mhmm!" Anton agreed. "And it's your turn Rob~"

"Uhh..." Rob responded, watching Borr and Joey's cum ooze out of Anton's rear. He reached over, grabbed a tissue, and cleaned Anton's rear end up for him.

"Thanks~" Anton chuckled. "Up to you."

The husky got off Rob, who began to sit up, only to feel a sharp stab of pain in his neck. He had laid wrong, and now his neck ached.

"Oww... maybe another time, honestly..."

"Aww, come on! Everyone's got to cum, in my butt!" Anton exclaimed.

"Yeah, you need a release too." Borr added. "You can even fuck me! Heh! Heh! My boss really fucking me in the ass!"

"No, I'll pass." Rob winced.

"Maybe a nap instead is in order..."

"And some Tylenol..." Joey chuckled.

"There's some in the dresser over there." Borr pointed.

Rob sat up with some help and took two Tylenol. Feeling exhausted from his workout, he instead accepted being pulled into Anton's arms, for a relaxing nap. Joey snuggled up with Borr, and they all laid in bed to just relax in the shadows of the room.

"Wow...Joey...what the fuck did we just do?"

"Fix some much needed sexual frustration~" the Doberman chuckled.

"Heh, it's a start..." Rob rolled his eyes amusingly.

The bedroom door abruptly opened to reveal another husky, Ben Reynolds. Rob immediately blushed to the young husky, the eighteen year old stepping in nonchalantly, as if nothing was going on, and closed the door behind him. It was the first time Rob saw Ben in many months. Rob had saved Ben from a gay bashing at school in 2018, and his face bore a similar scar like his own. He had suffered some facial paralysis as a result, giving him the same kind of stern stare like Rob's own tired face. Since the last time he saw him, Ben had lost a lot of weight, and he grew his brown hair out to sport a similar braided Viking style ponytail. He was pretty casually dressed in a black tanktop and shorts.

"How was mechanic's school today, Ben?" Anton asked him.

"Eh, it was fine~" Ben shrugged as he casually took his clothes off. He kicked his shorts and underwear off, revealing a big floppy, uncut dick, like Anton's. Rob looked away at that.

"Heh, told you I had a big fucking huge dick~" Ben grinned confidently. He had a twisted grin like Rob's, due to the paralysis of his face.

"Come on and take a nap with us~" Borr suggested.

"Oooh, I like a bed full of hot guys~"

Ben crawled in and laid between Borr and Joey. He curled up with the others as they all fell asleep for an afternoon nap. Rob, feeling surreal being in bed with a bunch of guys, finally gave into exhaustion, and fell asleep, his head resting on Anton's chest, as the husky gently pet him. His other paw stroked his raging boner.

---

By evening, Rob and Joey returned home from their outing. In their dimly lit bedroom, a single lamp cast the room in amber light as Rob took care of his pent up desire. Joey laid on his stomach in bed, as Rob propped himself up, slowly fucking his husband. His hips ached as he smacked his six inches into the Doberman, who grunted here and there to the sensation. Rob's fat cock throbbed to each thrust into Joey's tight rear end. He gave a few harder, faster thrusts, grunted, and came. His face scrunched up, and he breathed through clenched teeth as his body trembled to the sensation of him cumming and breeding his lover. Rob's trembling arms finally gave out, and he felt on Joey, with an "oomph" from the Doberman.

"Fuck, that's how I like it~" chuckled Joey as he let Rob lay atop of him. Rob didn't say anything, while he caught his breath. He rolled off Joey and winched from his hip. Joey took notice and got up to go and rub and massage his sore and tired hips.

"Thanks~" Rob responded. He smiled at Joey's smile at him.

"Good work~" the Doberman playfully grinned. "You feel better?"

"Yeah."

"Good!"

Rob laid for a moment to collect his thoughts, as his tired and sore hips were taken care of by Joey's strong grip. After a while, and rolling over to let the other hip get massaged, Joey laid down to pull Rob into his arms, where he got lovingly caressed by his Brazilian lover.

"Joey, what the fuck did we do today?" Rob asked him. "I can't believe we did that."

"I needed to bust a nut and have a little crazy fun." Joey responded.

"I can't believe I did that- eating Anton's ass out."

"Did you like it?"

"Oh I did~ But it's the idea that I did that."

"It's because you're pent up, just like me, and probably them too. This whole year has been insane, and I guess desperate times call for desperate measures!"

Joey placed a paw behind Rob's head and gave him a kiss. "There's a huge difference between fucking and making love. Sex is mechanical. Love isn't. I love you Rob, and nothing's gonna change that- and this won't hurt us, because love is more than sex. Remember, sex is mechanical~"

"I suppose so~"

"I do have a pretty big piston if I do say so myself!" grinned Joey with a laugh.

"I knew it! You couldn't resist!"

"That's right!" the Doberman laughed. Rob laid his head on Joey's chest, feeling him pet him as they laid and spent the evening together in their room, talking amongst themselves.

---

The first Monday of October was a cold morning. Storm clouds that had drenched Akron drifted away to the east, the brilliant sun poking its ray through breaks in the darkened clouds. Blue skies emerged in the western sky. The morning air was brisk at just fifty degrees.

Sloshing through puddles of rainwater, Rob arrived at Akron-Fulton in his P-47G. The big Thunderbolt rumbled in with its burbling Double Wasp under the cowl. Guided in by ground crew, Rob came to slowly turn the plane and park. He idled the engine for a lean rundown, before cutting the mixture. Looking up, Rob spotted little Sam Martin at the perimeter fence by the parking lot, watching eagerly. He was dressed in his new jacket and winter cap. It brought a smile momentarily to Rob's face. As one of the mechanics climbed up, Rob's smile instantly faded to the stern gaze as he unbuckled himself and climbed out.

Going over to greet Sam, he took the kid to his work truck and drove to the community center. It wasn't Rob's day to work there; he had promised Sam he would help him work on school work, and teach him some lessons on reading and writing cursive. Rob brought his laptop and planner with him to help.

At the center, the library was quiet, as Rob and Sam shared a quiet spot in the corner, by the big windows. The sun shone outside in downtown Akron, and trees that were changing colors more and more swayed in a breeze. Sam did his online work on Rob's laptop. The young wolf sat with a pair of headphones on that were plugged in, and he slowly typed out an answer to a question on his quiz. Rob took the time to fill out a few forms and permits for some modification work to the old Newark High School, which was being transformed into his new business headquarters. He scribbled his name down and initialed with a blue, felt tipped Sign pen.

"Yes~" came Sam's gentle voice. "I got a B!"

"Well there ya go~" Rob smiled.

"Time for a break~" Sam chuckled as he scooted his chair over next to Rob. "So, you said you could show me how to write cursive?"

"Well sure. Here." Rob motioned as he grabbed the legal pad from his planner. "I'll show you how it's done. Back in my day, I learned this in school, and my grandpa taught me too."

"Cool." Sam nodded.

"So I'm going to write the alphabet, in both D'Nealian style, and my own handwriting style, to show you how the alphabet looks in cursive."

"Okay."

Rob took his felt pen and wrote the alphabet out in a very neat, formal looking D'Nealian. He quipped about "nobody and their mother ever writing like this", and adding "the last time I wrote D'Nealian was in the fourth grade, and then I figured out my own style that works." He then took the second half of his legal pad and wrote the alphabet in his own writing style, which was much faster. Rob's own cursive was very loopy, sometimes jagged in places. His left paw worked fast with the pen, and he wrote both upper and lower case letters, explaining the steps in how to write them out. He tore that page out and gave it to Sam. He then took a clean page and wrote a sentence, in both D'Nealian and his own writing.

"We're here in Akron, Ohio." He wrote in blue ink.

"Oh that's cool, how the letters are connected." Sam pointed out with awe on his face.

"That's in theory how one can speed up writing with cursive." Rob explained. "Sometimes cursive is just hard to read. If your penmanship is poor, it's not gonna help you at all. I know people my age who have the handwriting of a little kid."

"Wow." Laughed Sam.

"I say the same thing." Chuckled Rob. He handed Sam a mechanical pencil. "Why don't you give it a try and use my example to guide you?"

"Sure!" he smiled as he took Rob's legal pad. Using the reference, the young wolf very slowly wrote letters out that were shaky, and awkward. It reflected his uncertainty as he tried to follow Rob's examples. "I don't think they look as nice!"

"Baby steps, Sam!" Rob laughed a bit. "But see? You got the basic idea. You write the letters in one pass of the pen or pencil. It speeds up the process."

Rob and Sam spent an hour practicing cursive, the wolf-hybrid encouraging Sam to practice writing out the alphabet, and then practicing a sentence. It took him a few tries to understand how the letters all connected and ended, but after an hour of work, a shaky, blocky sentence was created.

"We're here in Akron, Ohio." Sam read his own writing. "I did it~"

"You did~" Rob smiled. "Practice makes perfect for anything."

Following a little impromptu lesson on handwriting, Sam returned back to finish up his school work, while Rob continued on with his legal paperwork. After a few hours, they both decided to go grab lunch, and take a much needed break.

---

Nestled in the southeast corner of Akron's Firestone Park, was the Wilbeth Arlington Park. It was a square of woodland, with a couple dirt trails that people could go hiking on. The woods were thick with trees that were changing colors, filling the woodland with a barrage of varying color. The dirt trails were muddy and soft, as Rob followed an eager Sam along the trail. Rob clutched his big full-frame Nikon camera. He promised Sam that he'd show him how to shoot photos with a camera.

"Here, this way Rob!" Sam motioned as he ran ahead of the wolf-hybrid. Rob watched him stop before a towering red maple, it's canopy turning a brilliant shade of red. Rob stopped to take a photo of Sam standing before the tree. "This one's my favorite tree in the woods~"

"A favorite you say?" Rob asked as he looked up with him to admire the color.

"Yeah, it's such a red color, and it turns brilliant red before the others!" Sam pointed out. "It reminds me of a photo I saw in a nature book."

"Maples are quite enjoyable in the fall." Rob chuckled as he took aim with his telephoto and snapped a couple close up photos of the leaves. He knelt down to show Sam his pictures.

"Oooh! Pretty!" Sam complimented.

"What makes this photo 'pop' is the lighting and contrast between the glare, and the angle of the sun, relative to the leaf. The leaf takes up the left third of the photo- it has this beautiful glow around the edges, and the glare gives it a slight washed out contrast, but not too extreme. That's how a good photo is made." Rob explained.

"I like the nature photos I see in the library books. They look so colorful~ Especially the older books!" Sam recalled.

"Heh, a lot of nature photos taken twenty plus years ago, it was all on film. Like Kodachrome, or Ektachrome, sometimes Fuji Velvia. The latter is really good for flower photos, because it's super saturated in color, especially reds, greens, yellows. Almost surreal."

"Oooh~"

"Kodachrome was my favorite, but its sadly gone now. It was a nice film- it had really good color, and good contrast, and if you had adequate light, the photo was going to look great right out of the developer. But it was expensive to develop, and tricky- multistep process."

"So that's how photos used to be made?" Sam asked curiously as he looked over Rob's Nikon.

"Yes! At one time, that was all that was available for photography. I think film is special. Digital's alright, and its speedy and handy for bulk photos and editing, but you have to really work the raw file to get a nice photo. With film, you get a nice picture out of the roll!" Rob recalled. "My first camera I got was when I was eight, a used Nikon F3, with an autowinder. I still have it- sometimes I'll use it for some photos."

"Cool~"

"I got a spare too when I thought I had lost it years ago." Rob added. "I'll tell you what- how about I teach you a thing or two about photos, and I'll give it to ya when you're ready."

"Really?" Sam smiled eagerly.

"Yeah~" Rob smiled back. "It's just collecting dust on my bookshelf. It's a nice camera, and it's got plenty of life left on it."

"Cool! Thank you!" Sam cheered.

"How about we practice a bit?" Rob offered.

For the next hour and a half, the two slowly walked around the woodland, stopping to take photos of stuff that was visually interesting. Rob took his time to explain the camera's settings, and teaching Sam how to frame up a picture, get the exposure correctly, and hold steady to get a non-blurred picture. After a few clumsy photos, the young wolf seemed to get the knack for Rob's Nikon, as he started to get more promising photos. He took a photo of a yellow maple leaf, the background artfully blurred into bokeh, and a wide angle shot of a small rocky creek, flowing amongst the colorful trees. Rob encouraged him and complimented him as they took a few more photos of the creek, and other colorful scenery.

Deciding to take a break, Rob slowly sat down, wincing as he took a seat on the small wooden bridge over the shallow little creek. He sat braced against one of the support posts holding it up, his feet dangling over the water. Rob looked exhausted from the walk, and complained about his hip and back acting up again. Sam gave him his camera back and sat down beside him on the little bridge. The sound of water trickling over rocks was very calming.

"You did a really good job for your first time. You're a quick learner I notice." Rob complimented the kid.

"Thank you!" Sam responded happily. "I like to learn new things. It's fun, especially electronics."

"Well that's good~"

Sam's smile started to fade to a frown. "I kinda wish I could do this with my parents."

"I understand that feeling." Rob nodded. "I didn't do much with my own parents when I was your age~ It's a disappointing feeling, I know that~"

"You had parents like mine?"

"Well...not quite... my parents were a complicated story in their own right."

"Ohh."

"My Mom was an orphan who had fled North Korea as a child, and my Dad was an engineer who was badly burned and disfigured in a workplace accident. Both had these tragic events happen in their lives, and it ruined them, and drove them both to an early grave."

"Your mom's from another country?"

"Yeah, I'm half Korean. It's why I look like a wolf, but with a malamute's body~" Rob chuckled a bit. "My twin brother is the opposite of me; he looks like a malamute, but with a wolf's body!"

"Oh cool!" Sam giggled. "I'm a wolf, as far as I know! I look like my Dad~"

"My Dad was really abusive towards me and my brother- emotionally, and sometimes physically. It wasn't because he was evil, or power hungry, like some abusers- my Dad was in constant pain from being so burned and disfigured, it drove him insane. He would always just scream and yell at me for any little thing. I have a few, if any, happy memories of my Dad. He'd always say- 'oh Rob, you're never gonna amount to anything doing that!' My Mom could be two extremes. She could be full of love and the ultimate mom? Or somedays, she should be like a complete stranger to me. Sometimes when I needed her love the most, when something hurt me, or the like, she'd never be there, like she was a stranger dropped into my house. She had weird responses to painful stimuli, and it would be like she just shut down emotionally. I found out later, that was because of what she witnessed in North Korea as a child."

Sam fumbled his brow in thought. "My parents are just.... Well... they're not like some of my friends' parents."

"You mentioned about that before."Rob nodded.

"I want to go do things with them...and they never do. Mom works all the time, and looks dead tired when she's home. Or she's just lying on the couch passed out from taking some pills, or whatever she takes with Dad. Looks likes something for the drug store! Our van is almost broken down- it hasn't been a good year for us. And I'm trying to help them by getting them food from here for dinner, so they don't go hungry!"

"That's very noble of you, Sam." Rob acknowledged. "It sounds like your parents have a serious problem."

"My Mom's from New York, and she came to live in Akron with Dad when I was a baby, apparently." Sam recalled. "They're not married or anything, and as I said earlier, Dad hasn't worked as long as I can remember. He makes some money selling stuff from our house- he deals with a bunch of guys who come over, the McNulty's...they give him bags of stuff and he then turns around and sells it and makes some money. It's how we can pay for bills."

Rob closed his eyes and held back his thoughts. Now he realized that his father was most likely a drug dealer, on top of being a drug abuser. "This poor kid..." Rob thought to himself. He felt utterly disgusted and sad for the nine year old wolf.

"I want to tell you something important Sam, and this is from my own heart...my own experience." Rob spoke up. "From what you're telling me...your parents have some big problems."

"Sadly."

"...but I don't want you to hate your parents, okay?"

"Oh, why would I hate them? They're my parents!"

"I made a horrible mistake in my life, by hating my parents, because of what had happened. My parents died before I could really reflect on what I had said to them... and both of them took my anger and rage at them to the grave. I thought by dishing out what they had given to me would be a good thing...but vengeance is toxic. It consumes you, Sam, it blackens your soul. Hate is such a powerful and dangerous thing to harbor in your heart. I know, because I foster the hate, the hurt, in my heart, everyday. And it drags me down to the nadir. Now I can't tell them I take it back. And it's something I plan on taking to the grave with me as well. In short, Sam, your parents aren't perfect...and accept that...and love them because they're your parents, flaws and all. You'll save yourself the hurt like I face."

Sam nodded in understanding. "I see the hurt on your face, Rob."

"Everyday...deep down...I'm hurting." Rob admitted. "That's regret."

"I see."

Rob sighed a bit. "I should have taken time after I came out of my coma following the gay bashing, and just reflected on everything, but I just hopped, skipped, and jumped right back into life...and I let everything build up until I snapped."

"I read that hindsight is twenty-twenty." Sam smiled at him.

Rob began to get up, and visibly strained to stand back up on his feet. Sam quickly grabbed Rob's arm and helped him up, so they could walk back to the truck.

"I try and think that things will get better... but with what I'm seeing this year, I don't know." Sam quipped as he walked with Rob.

"I know it's rough... but all we can do is just do our part, and stay hopeful for the future." Rob tried to reassure. His words came out rather empty.

"I don't see this going away for a long time." Sam shook his head with a look of disappointment. I miss my friends from school. I miss school."

"I understand completely." Rob nodded as he walked slowly with him. "It's just the price we have to pay for incompetency. Unfortunately we seem to live in a world where goodness is murdered and mediocrity thrives."

"People just seem stupid."

"There ya go~ You're learning." Chuckled Rob.

Returning to the truck, Rob drove Sam back to his house, a few minutes away. Pulling up, he found his Mom standing on the front porch, smoking a cigarette and looking exhausted. Sam hopped out and ran up to greet her. Rob watched, then noticed out of the corner of his eye, Sam's backpack, sitting in the backseat. He grabbed it and hopped out to give it to him.

"Sam! You forgot your backpack!" Rob shouted.

The kid ran back to thank Rob and grab it from him. As Rob was about to turn and head back to his truck, he noticed the mom approaching him. He stopped to greet her.

"Hello there~" she smiled. It looked like a forced, exhausted smile, on a tired face. The gray wolfess pushed some hair out of her face with the paw that held a smoldering cigarette. She looked really young, like she was in her early twenties. "I wanted to say thank you for taking our son back home from the community center."

"It's the least I can do~" Rob nodded. "I saw him walk home one day in the rain, and it just killed me on the inside."

"We're having a rough time." She admitted with a sigh. "My name's Kayla Martin."

"Rob Barion~"

"You from around here?"

"No. I'm from Newark. I fly up Tuesday through Friday to work at the community center."

"Oh."

"I've been coming in on Monday to help Sam with his school work."

"He's a really smart kid isn't he? He's not like his mom and dad!" Kayla laughed with a wheezing, smokers cough. Rob hesitantly smiled a bit at the sarcastic quip.

"He's got a lot of promise." Rob responded. "Very eager to learn, and that's a good thing. It's why I've been trying to help him out."

"I appreciate it." Kayla thanked him again. "I work, and my boyfriend doesn't... and our van here is on its last legs..."

Rob turned to see a beat up, white Ford Windstar. It had paint chipped and missing, and the fenders were eaten up by rust. A side window was missing and was covered in clear plastic and tape. "Just like all of Isaac's big hair-brained schemes to make money... broken..."

"Isaac would be your-" Rob started to say, when he was interrupted by the sound of someone vomiting. He looked over to see a chubby brown wolf, wearing shorts that were sagging down, and a hoodie, throwing up in the bushes. His hair was greasy looking locks of messy brown hair. Rob grimaced a bit at the random sight. Kayla closed her eyes and shook her head.

"...That's my boyfriend...Isaac..."

Rob turned to look at her. "...I see."

"Kayla!" Isaac shouted. "Don't eat that shit in the fridge! It's gone bad!" he yelled.

"Throw it out then!" Kayla rolled her eyes as she yelled back. "Oh my god...I'm so embarrassed...I don't even-"

"It's okay~" Rob assured. "Look, I must get going- it was a pleasure saying hi to you. And I wish you, Isaac, and Sam, the best."

"Thank you~" she smiled.

"Have a good night." Rob waved, as he turned to return back to his idling truck.

---

The sizzle of hamburgers on the griddle helped distract Rob from the commotion around at the kitchen. He tended to a dozen hamburger patties on the big cook top, as he flipped a couple with his spatula. It was hamburger day for lunch at the community center. He was cooking the burgers, while Ben and Ally prepped the vegetables and buns. Tyrone and Haley baked steak fries in the oven. Mercer, the red furred Doberman, washed dishes. Rob tried his hardest to pay no attention to the usual gripes and vapid conversation his college age cohorts had with each other, but lately it was starting to get on his nerves. It was becoming harder to tolerate the same, tired, "bitch fest" he had to put up with all day, every day.

"All cops are bastards." He heard Tyrone grumble. "All these damn cops are bastards- did you hear about the shooting in Wisconsin?"

"Another one?" came Ben's voice.

"Yeah! Another brother got shot by a pig. Bullshit...when's enough, enough?" the Rottweiler griped. "Our people are tired of being target practice!"

"You think Biden's gonna do a damn thing? Nope- Bernie would have, but the establish just wouldn't like that." Haley grunted as she checked on the fries in the oven.

"I really wanted Bernie. I really wanted his free college idea." Ally sighed.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Mercer added. "Here I am doing virtual classes, and still paying out the ass!"

"Yeah! I know!" Tyrone exclaimed. "It's bullshit! Take some of these rich fuck's money, that'll pay for it!"

"This whole year's bullshit." Ben shook his head.

Rob closed his eyes and just shook his head a bit in annoyance. He flipped a few more patties, when he heard the double doors burst open. The heavy stomp-stomp of Householder was right on time as the director of the facility came in for his daily bitch fest. He stomped around, asked a bunch of stupid, annoying questions, and acted belligerent to the college students. He'd gripe about messes, why dishes weren't being washed fast enough, and get the same annoyed responses from the others about being overwhelmed.

"I used to work in a kitchen a long time ago down in New Lex! No such thing as being overwhelmed!" Householder exclaimed. "It was just me and two other guys, and we kept up on our patrons, the cooking, and the cleaning! No excuses Benny boy! Can't take the heat? Get out of the kitchen! Why can't you guys just be like Rob here?"

The wolf-hybrid cringed at hearing his name. He glanced up at the clock, longing to head to lunch.

"Rob comes in, he does his job, and doesn't sit around bitching about these tree hugging libby things you guys all like! You'd never survive down where I came from in New Lex! Hard work! Ha! You pansies be all crying down in Perry county! You'll all learn one day- everyone becomes a conservative when they grow up."

"Keep it up~" Householder concluded as he stormed out of the kitchen, through the double doors. Rob breathed a sigh of relief at his departure.

"What a fat, stupid fuck." Mercer grumbled.

"I cannot stand him~" Ally groaned. "I do this for the good of helping people, and Dan is just ruining my motivation."

"I agree." Rob spoke up. The others momentarily paused at Rob's rare moment of speaking.

"You, uhh, doing okay Rob?" Ben asked him.

"Yeah." Rob responded in a blank tone. "Just working, that's all~"

"You just...never say anything to us." Haley added.

"I've only heard you talk to us, like, six times since you started here." Mercer added.

Rob scooped up the finished patties and placed them in a stainless steel bowl, which he handed off to Tyrone. "I know~" was all he said. He even gave an insincere smile on his scarred face to Mercer. Rob took his apron off and hung it up on a hook, beside the griddle. "Lunch time!"

Rob simply turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his cohorts in a quiet sense of confusion in trying to decipher him.

Leaving the kitchen feeling annoyed, Rob went on his lunch break. He walked over to the library, where he stepped in and found Sam in the computer lab, at one of the desktop terminals. He sat with a pair of headphones on, typing on the keyboard. His typing speed took Rob by surprise; Sam typed like a little professional, using all of his fingers on the keyboard in a somewhat quick pace. Rob stepped in and walked up to him.

"Hey Sam~" Rob quietly greeted.

The young wolf looked up at him and took his headphones off. "Hey Rob" he greeted back with a smile on his face. "I got one more question, then we can go do lunch!"

"Sure~" Rob agreed.

Sam finished his question, and hit "save", before closing out of his class work for lunch. He and Rob sat at their usual spot, enjoying the hamburgers that Rob had helped cook.

"I have to say, you're quite the little typist." Rob complimented. "I'm kind of surprised~"

"Oh, it's just something I learned." Sam shrugged with a smile. "I started typing and just kinda picked up on it! Paw-eye coordination the librarian says!"

"I'm impressed~" smiled Rob. "It leads me to ask you- would you like me to buy you a laptop? So you don't have to sit in the computer lab all day? You could do your school work at a desk somewhere else in the library? And when things get safer and back to a subjective sense of normal? You can even use it at school~"

"Oh? Like your laptop? I like your laptop."

"It's a Thinkpad~" chuckled Rob. "It's the only type of laptop I use."

"Oh cool. Hmm...well that sounds expensive."

"It's worth it, and I can easily afford it." Rob shrugged in response. "Plus it'll help you out."

"If you want! I guess, sure." Sam nodded.

"Sounds like I'll have to go visit Microcenter soon." Chuckled Rob.

"So... my parents are really appreciative of you helping me." Sam admitted. "They were wondering if you wanted to come over to dinner on Thursday?"

"Hmm...well...you know what? I'll do it~" Rob agreed. "Tell them, I said thanks."

"Sure!"

---

Following another annoying day cleaning dishes and scrubbing toilets, Rob drove Sam to the airport. Having promised him to take him for a flight, he pulled in through the perimeter gate and onto the tarmac, where his de Havilland Mosquito sat. As a couple workmen finished up filling up the gas tanks with a load of 100LL, Rob pulled his truck around and backed into the hangar where he stored it at. He hopped out with Sam, and suited up for the flight. Rob donned his usual khaki colored flight suit, complete with leather flying helmet strapped to his head. He gave Sam a spare headphone set, and the two walked over to meet his "wooden wonder".

On the tarmac sat Rob's unnamed Mosquito. A PR Mk. XVI, its hazy blue-gray "PRU Blue" scheme was brightened up by a liberal application of bright red paint on its tail and propeller spinners. It was painted up as a USAAF reconnaissance plane from the war. The nose had a clear, Plexiglas nose, and twin Merlin V-12's powered it, driving three bladed Hamilton propellers that had a wide-chord to them.

"So this is my Mosquito." Rob pointed out. "She's made out of a birch ply construction, which gives her great strength and light weight. The only wooden plane I own."

Sam walked up and tapped on the fuselage with his paw, which had a muffled, wooden resonance to his knocking. "Oooh~"

"She's a really fast ship. Really docile too." Rob added. "The hallmarks of de Havilland."

Rob went over some critical flight safety procedures with the kid, and told him an important rule; "stay calm in an emergency". That told, he showed Sam how to board the cockpit of the Mosquito, via a hatch in the lower side nose. A step ladder was set up to facilitate loading. Sam watched Rob climb up through the hatch; the young wolf took a deep breath and climbed up the ladder, where Rob helped him into the cockpit. The ground crew closed the hatch and Rob double checked that it was secure. He helped strap Sam into the navigator's seat, which sat right in front of the access for the nose. Sam looked nervous and excited at the same time.

Going through his checklist, Rob powered up the plane on its batteries, and went through all the gauges and indicator lights. Everything was in proper working order, which he signaled with a thumbs up to the ground crew, who stood with a fire extinguisher, ready for engine start. Rob reached over, opened the fuel valves, and engaged the starter for engine number one. In the typical Merlin fashion, it took only a "few blades" for the engine to catch. The engine gave off a hesitating whine, which was followed by a rush of cylinders coming to life. White glycol smoke gushed from the ejector exhaust stubs. The engine sounded rough as cold cylinders were run at low RPM, to warm up. Rob repeated the measure on engine two, which Sam watched excitedly as it too ignited. The twin Merlins brought the airframe to life; Sam could feel the vibrations through the cockpit.

Adjusting his headset, he hit the microphone toggle to speak to Rob. "Wow~ That's amazing!"

"It's a great plane, isn't it?" Rob responded back over the intercom. "These were almost completely untouchable during the war. Very low loss rate."

"Neat!"

The chocks were pulled away, and Rob checked the engines over one more time, before beginning to taxi for the runway. He followed the service road, and made a swinging turn to get onto the runway, where a momentarily paused ensured a final check over of engine health and instrumentation.

"Ready?" Rob asked Sam.

"Let's do it!" grinned the young wolf.

A content smirk graced Rob's face. "Let's go~"

Gripping his throttles, Rob commanded maximum power from his Merlin 72/73's. Both engines revved up, filling the cockpit with their roar. The Mossie began its takeoff roll, and quickly built up speed. Holding steady, Rob felt the tail lift off the ground as scheduled, and he began to nudge his control yoke back, commanding lift to climb away from the runway. After a few seconds, he felt the plane grow buoyant, and the wheels lifted off the pavement, the Mosquito climbing away over Akron.

Sam watched as the ground pulled away from him. His face was in awe as he saw for the first time, a unique view of Akron as the Mosquito climbed up over town. He saw his neighborhood and the refinery from the air, which he watched in amazement. Rob climbed up to a thousand feet, and leveled off. He engaged cruise power and trimmed the plane up. Giving Sam a tour of his hometown, they did a few gentle circles over Akron, passing over familiar industrial landscapes. Rob wanted Sam to get used to the sensation of flight. It helped that the air was calm, and it kept turbulence to a minimal.

"Wow." Sam said into the mic.

"It's great isn't it?"

"Yeah~" the kid agreed. His voice sounded euphoric. "So how far away is your hometown?"

"Not far by air~"

"Could we go fly down and see Newark?"

"Sure!"

Rob banked around and began flying south-west, towards the direction of Newark. He descended in over rural farmland, to give Sam a taste of flying fast and low over Ohio's farm and woodland. Scenery zipped on by as Rob flew at an indicated airspeed of 300 MPH. The twin Merlins burbled, filling the cockpit with their roar. The kid looked excited at the sights and sounds that he never had seen or heard before. It was just amazing to him. The Mosquito crossed the gap between Akron and Newark in thirty minutes, and Rob climbed up for altitude as he approached the outer fringes of Newark.

"Wow, what's that basket thingy!" Sam pointed out. He spotted a giant building that looked like a picnic basket, Newark's landmark building.

"That's the former Longaberger Company." Rob pointed. He passed overhead in a banking pass. "It used to be a big employer in Newark and Frazeysburg, but they went out of business in 2018."

"Oh~"

"Victims of greedy family members after Dave Longaberger died." Rob explained.

Rob showed Sam the city of Newark; in a series of passes, he passed over familiar landmarks and showed the kid his hometown from the air. He even passed over his own neighborhood to show him his house. Climbing back up and heading west, Rob took Sam for a flight over Columbus. In three giant orbits, Rob pointed out all the suburbs of greater Columbus as they passed overhead. Sam marveled at the sight of the state capital, asking questions and admitting that he had only seen Columbus once in his life. After three orbits, Rob flew back to Akron, to bring Sam home to his family.

---

Puddles rippled intensely to the immense propwash. The first rays of morning's light on a cold Thursday morning glistened against the ripples, as Rob frantically tried to diagnose an engine problem on the rain swept tarmac. Having borrowed Felix Barion's P-38G, "Tony the Fourth", Rob had his head poked out of the cockpit, while he watched the port Allison engine run. The V-1710 had a rough, sickly sound to it as Rob ran it at low rpm. His mechanic Vlado, stood by the opened up cowl examining components with a flashlight, trying to diagnose the problem. Rob got the signal to cut the mixture, and he shut engine one down. The Curtiss prop windmilled and coasted to a stop.

"I'm not seeing anything directly wrong with the engine? I'll have to check the injectors." The Croatian wolf called.

"That might be it. It's not smoothing out as the engine comes up to temperature." Rob added.

Climbing out, the two dug a bit deeper into their investigation into a rough running engine. After an hour delay, Vlado changed out a couple injectors, and the engine was run again, which idled smoothly. The cowling was placed back on, and Rob climbed aboard for his morning flight to Akron. Behind his armored seat sat his usual bag, and a box containing a new Thinkpad, for Sam.

Rob taxied and took off, following a morning test flight of his Super Constellation, "Coneflower". The glistening silver L-1049E was flown by his friends, Mark Prince, and Geert Apps for another test flight, after some minor engine troubles on the previous run. He flew alongside as they flew northbound, before wiggling his wings in salute, and breaking away, to head northeast, towards Akron.

At the helm, Rob sat strapped into Felix's Lightning. He was still relatively new to the twin-engine Lockheed fighter. The P-38G was a gift to Felix, after a large legal debacle between his defunct aviation project "Ohaero", and "Conwest", a bankrupt passenger airline company. The airframe was a war veteran; it had been one of the Lightnings used to intercept and shoot down Admiral Yamamoto in 1943. Its lusterless paint scheme of olive drab and neutral gray, the only splash of bright color being the yellow propeller spinners, belied its heroic war record. Trimmed up, the Lightning flew straight and level; it's twin boom design was unique to Rob, and he sat inside a "pod" between the two booms and wings. The two Allison engines purred, driving a set of Curtiss Electric propellers that rotated opposite of each other, to cancel out torque. He liked how the Lightning handled, plus its spacious cockpit, and was wanting to acquire his own, to add to his museum's growing collection of warbirds. In the midst of the chaos and economic downturn of 2020, it was a banner year of his museum gobbling up warbirds from closing and in trouble aviation museums across the nation.

Somewhere north of Coshocton, Rob could just start to see Canton approach on the hazy horizon. As he made a slight adjustment to his altimeter, he could feel a very subtle vibration on the yoke. His eyes scanned around at the two engines, and then his instrumentation. Scrutinizing engine one, he looked at the gauges to notice the rpm's and manifold pressure needles twitching ever so slightly. The wolf-hybrid fumbled his brow and placed his left paw on the throttle, to troubleshoot, when he heard a really loud BANG! It sounded like a gunshot going off. The Lightning suddenly pulled to his left, and Rob instinctively slammed in opposing rudder to compensate. "Tony the Fourth" shuddered and began losing altitude in a descending left turn. The port Allison engine lost power.

Rob stabilized his descent and began to immediately troubleshoot; he watched oil seep from under the cowl and splatter back in long streaks. Cutting the mixture and retarding the throttle, Rob hit the feather button on the panel, and watched the Curtiss prop automatically feather. As the propeller coasted down, Rob could hear a disheartening grinding sound from the engine. He immediately retrimmed the plane up, and its pulling to port ceased immediately.

"Uhh, Cleveland Center pan-pan, pan-pan, this is Disco two flight, I have suffered an engine failure on my port engine, and continuing my way to Akron-Fulton. Over."

"Disco Two, this is Cleveland Center, acknowledge your engine failure, over."

Rob sucked on his lips and pursed them at the sight of the damaged engine. "Fuck~" was all he could say.

---

At Akron-Fulton, Sam stood at the fence, waiting excitedly for Rob's arrival. Dressed in his dark blue jacket and beanie with his backpack on his back, the young kid watched his breath in a ray of sunshine through one of the colorful airport trees. The airport had grown accustomed to his presence, and largely left him alone as he waited for Rob. He was a little curious as to why a fire truck was waiting on the tarmac, as though there was some kind of emergency.

Looking up at the bright blue sky, Sam spotted a unique shape approaching the airport. He recognized the double-boom, twin engine Lightning, an excited grin curling up on his face as he realized that was Rob coming in. But his smile faded when he noticed that only one engine was running. Rob made a descending turn and immediately came in for landing. He touched down perfectly and rolled out, out of view. A few minutes later, Rob came back into view, taxiing slowly on one engine. Sam's face had a look of worry when he saw engine one completely covered in oil.

For the next hour, Sam got to watch Rob and some of the Scottwood Aviation people, diagnose the engine failure on the Lightning. Rob had to call over to the community center, to inform Householder that he was going to be late, on account of an engine problem. Lacking some of his specialized tools, Rob found it a complete pain to try and do the work in his rubber chemical suit. He took the cowling off to immediately find out just what went wrong. A piston had apparently malfunctioned, and came off its connecting rod and burst through the top of the cylinder banks. Taking some further pieces off, Rob found a sea of oil and metal shavings; the timing of the engine was ruined, and it was clear to him that the Allison was destroyed. It was a total loss.

Calling Vlado for help, Rob got a plane dispatched to send a replacement engine. Forty-five minutes later, Rob watched "Thing Two" arrive. The short-fuselage Constellation taxied in, dressed in its USAF "white top" scheme. The C-121A was scheduled to fly with its sister-ship "Thing One", to Cleveland, to drop off a huge backlog of engines and propellers that needed overhauling. Vlado got a spare engine loaded onto "Thing Two", before hopping aboard to fly out to do an engine change. Even Mark and Geert heard about Rob's engine failure, and turned around to fly "Coneflower" into Akron-Fulton. Sam was excited to see all the vintage planes sitting on the tarmac.

"You go to the community center, and we'll get this taken care of." Vlado said to Rob, who looked visibly upset over the situation.

"Alright, I'll do that." Rob agreed.

Walking over to grab Sam, the two climbed aboard his orange Silverado, and quickly departed for the community center.

---

Grinding his teeth beneath his mask, Rob listened to the rattling of china as another tray of soiled dishes was brought to him by one of the servers. He had just finished another huge tray, which was promptly whisked out of the kitchen by the same person. It was an abnormally busy day at the community center for the lunch hour. The kitchen was bustling with activity.

Rob grabbed another dish, and seamlessly continued on washing dishes at the big chrome lined sink. He had been washing dishes for a good two and a half hours. Even behind a surgical mask, Rob's face gave away his really bad mood. He looked tense and standoffish with everyone. Aside from blowing an engine on Felix's P-38 and being late for community service, he was fuming from being scolded by Householder for being late, despite telling him ahead of time. Householder was at his best with some bloviating tale about never being late to a job back home in Perry County. Rob simply told him to "go fuck himself"- he meant it. His tolerance for bullshit was at a bare minimal. It took every ounce of strength to just keep quiet as he heard Householder behind him, berating the college student volunteers as usual. Nothing was good enough to Householder; he nitpicked about every little detail, and his voice was like fingers on a chalkboard to the wolf-hybrid. He eventually stormed out of the kitchen to return to his office, and the college students could then vent their frustration out, on top of their usual rants and raves.

"That motherfucker can drop dead, yo~" Tyrone grumbled at the griddle. "Jesus Christ."

"Who calls someone 'honey'?" Ally rolled her eyes. "I wanna kick him in the nuts."

"He's a fucking hick from New Lexington! What do ya expect?" Ben exclaimed.

"Another Trump fucker." Laughed Haley as she handled a head lettuce. "I don't get why these hicks all seem to flock towards someone like Trump?"

"Because they're stupid, and racist, just like Trump himself." Tyrone grunted.

"Yeah, I don't get it either." Mercer shook his head. "It's like the Republican party is just a bunch of rich fucks who get poor, ignorant people to vote for them by dangling social issues, instead of actually what's best for this country."

"The rich is what's wrong with this nation..." Haley grumbled. "I mean...what do they know about how we live?"

"I don't think we need billionaires, honestly..." Ben shook his head. "I mean, why do they deserve all that money?"

The red Doberman chuckled. "I liked how the Soviets did wealth redistribution. That would level the playing field."

"Ehh, that seems a bit extreme?" Ally hesitated.

"Pfft, what's extreme is someone having over a hundred billion dollars. There's countries around the world that don't even have that in their GDP!" Mercer exclaimed. "I mean, at least the Soviets made an attempt at trying to level the playing field for their country..."

Rob ground his teeth listening to the stupid commentary. He wanted to say something and put those "youngins" in their place. The level of stupidity, the naivety was just mindboggling. Before he could do anything, Rob heard his phone go off. He had to pause his dish washing, take his heavy rubber gloves off, and grab his phone. It was Vlado calling him. Rob stepped aside and answered the call.

"Yeah, Vlado~"

"Hey Rob...uhh...we got a problem here..." Vlado admitted in a hesitant voice.

"Yeah."

"We were removing the engine off the mount, and the hoist shifted unexpectedly, and the Allison dropped about six inches and bent the frame. I gotta take the whole engine mount off the nacelle, and clean it up a bit, before I can put the spare on."

"Lovely."

"It's been a clusterfuck."

"Obviously~" Rob responded. He bit his lower lip and looked even more annoyed. "Okay. Just keep me informed. Thanks Vlado~"

"Welcome, Rob."

Rob put his phone down and stomped a foot on the ground. He sucked on his lower lip with eyes filled with rage. Returning to his dish washing, Rob got about five dishes in, when the conversation amongst the college students just finally hit a raw nerve. Rob had enough of hearing them badmouth wealthy Americans, and the constant whining and crying about progressive stuff losing out to moderate Democrats. Rob slammed his gloves down, and walked over.

"Hey, can you folks find a new topic?"

"Pardon me?" Ben asked Rob.

"You heard me. Find a new topic. This one's getting stale..." Rob glared. "I've been here over a month now, and all you people just do is whine and complain because Bernie Sanders didn't get the Democratic nomination, how Joe's an old fuck, and rich people are the devil. It's stupid, it's wrong, and I'm frankly tired of hearing it every single fucking day. I have to listen to Householder run his big fat cocksucker, and now I gotta hear the other end of the spectrum."

Nobody seemed to know what to say at first. Nobody had ever heard Rob say that much, with that kind of intimidating force.

"Then don't pay attention bro?" Tyrone mentioned to Rob.

"How can I not pay attention when that's literally all I hear?" Rob glared back at him. "Look, I get it. You folks are upset over the political situation this nation is faced with. I'm upset about it as well. But what is your bitching going to accomplish? You're mad because Bernie Sanders didn't get nominated, but look, when you go into 2020 with the same playbook as 2016? When you make no attempt to learn from why you lost the last time around, and just play on young people's hopes by dangling free shit in front of them? And have no idea how you're going to pay for a multi-trillion dollar social welfare program with just some vague, half-assed 'tax the rich' approach- it's bullshit, and people saw right through it."

"I think you're wrong, Rob." Ben spoke up. His face looked serious. Rob turned his attention towards him.

"How am I wrong, Ben?"

"Bernie Sanders is a senator fighting for the people! He's a-"

"...millionaire that you people run down, who owns multiple homes like every other senator under the sun." Rob cut in. "He's no freedom fighter, or liberator to this nation- he's a seventy-nine year old man who's been in public office for forty years. Bernie Sanders, is a living Birkenstock."

"Oh you must be one of those Trump supporters..." grumbled Tyrone.

"Actually, no. I'm a conservative Democrat." Rob stared. "There is no fucking way in hell I'd ever be a Republican. Never assume, Tyrone."

"Hey I never assumed."

"You did, in fact. And since you gave me an attitude with your stupid little comment, let me tell you what the fuck is up. I think you're all naïve, and have zero understanding of how this world works." Rob glared at all of them.

"And you think you know?" Ally responded, giving Rob a snooty stare.

"I'm thirty-eight and I run my own business. I'm a multi-millionaire via inheritance from my oil baron great-grandfather, I run a business that spans soon to be five states, and I've been through a lot in my own life." Rob explained, pointing to his jagged scar on his face. "So yes, Ally...I think I can say I know a bit more about life than all of you."

"That's a bit arrogant..." Haley rolled her eyes.

"So is running your cocksucker and having an answer for every little problem. Shit! You guys and gals have answers to all the world's problems! Just throw more money at it via the rich! Duh!"

"Hey! That's not nice!" Haley shouted.

"Neither is calling me arrogant." Rob pointed. "You can't have your cake and eat it too~ You can be snooty with me, and when I retort, you don't like what I have to say. So watch it."

"Man, who the fuck do you think you are?" Tyrone asked.

"Name's Rob Barion, the head of United Barev Industries, Newark Ohio." Rob sarcastically fired off. "And who the fuck are you mister I wear black lives matter everything, every fucking day."

"Hey!" the Rottweiler glared.

"Oh and your talks constantly about getting money for reparations for slavery? Not gonna happen!" Rob pointed. "How's it feel that a onetime cash payment by the gooberment will just magically erase all the centuries of systemic discrimination that has kept many different groups of minorities down? That somehow money will erase the pain and suffering that African-Americans have dealt with, past to present? It won't! How do you even begin to consider who gets money allocated to them? Would we have to start giving compensation to other oppressed people? Would I get money for being half-Korean and gay? Those are one and a half groups who've been oppressed by the government?"

"How are Koreans oppressed?"

"Oh, like not being allowed to immigrate here at all via the quota system from the twenties, all the way to the mid sixties? With some exceptions via the Korean War. Amazing what you learn by opening a history book~" Rob rolled his eyes. "Maybe Ben here wants a check too for institutional discrimination on account of his sexual orientation?"

Ben kept his mouth shut and looked away.

"Learn your history Tyrone- be a historian, not an activist." Rob glared. "Or better yet! Why don't you do what I do, and just be an American. I'm an American first and foremost, and my Polish and Korean roots come second."

"Yeah, easier said than done!" Tyrone shouted back. "I've had police come and harass me, I've had random people call me a nigger! Do you deal with shit like that, Rob?"

Rob pointed to his scar. "I got this scar because a fourteen year old didn't like that I was gay..." Rob's face took on a meaner glare. "THIS is what discrimination looks like. So don't act like you people are the only ones entitled to the discrimination drama porn!"

"Man, the only thing you're entitled to is acting like a fucking gook~" laughed Tyrone.

"Oh I'm a gook you say?" Rob laughed. He lunged and grabbed Tyrone by the throat, shoving the Rottweiler into the countertop. Rob's face was twisted with rage.

"Listen the fuck here you worthless nigger- you sit here and constantly cry about discrimination, and turn around and do the same thing you're opposed to! Fucking hypocrite!" Rob shouted. He shoved Ally and Mercer away. Tyrone looked terrified as Rob kept his left paw firmly clamped around the Rottweiler's throat. He eventually let go and backed up, his eyes darting around to stare at everyone, who was stunned into silence.

"You're all fucking god damn stupid!" Rob angrily shouted. "Hypocrites!" He pointed at Ally and Haley. "You two always cry about no money, in debt because of school, but here you both are- that hoodie Ally? A hundred and fifty bucks- I know, my husband has a North Face hoodie like that. Those jeans? At least two hundred bucks. You sit here and whine and cry about capitalism being unfair, but your bodies are covered by literally the epitome of capitalism! Meanwhile, I'm worth half a billion dollars, and I'm wearing twenty dollar work pants I bought at Target. This gray sweater- on sale, fifteen bucks at Kohl's."

Rob pointed at Ben. "You have literally no idea how the world works, because you view everything just through your sexual orientation. Here's a hint- nobody cares. I don't fucking care, and I'm gay too. Tyrone, you're just fucking retarded. Mercer, you're just a commie."

Nobody responded.

"None of you literally know how the world works, because you're all like what? Twenty? Twenty-two? You still got mommy and daddy bankrolling you. Ya'll think that you can just solve the world by pouring more money on the problem, or just taking guns away will make violence go away, as if we all just hold paws and sing Kumbaya! POOF! All our problems will just go away! When I was your age, I was going to college, working a full time job, and recovering from my gay bashing! The world taught me that it's not a nice place- it's a place where good men are murdered and mediocrity thrives. Right is wrong, and wrong is right. And the sooner you stupid fucks wake up to that, the better! Hopefully before you all just wander your way into a voting booth or something."

"Rob, just shut up-"

"Don't talk over me, Ally." Rob snapped. "Look at the big picture verses just your own partisan talking points. This is what I fucking hate about Republicans and Democrats- it's not about what's best for this nation! It's about what's best for the party, and the people who embrace the partisan hackery! I don't like groupthink- and that's why I don't like group identities. I'm Rob Barion. I'm an individual. I'm not Rob Barion, the Korean-American, or Polish-American, or Democrat-American. I'm Rob Barion, period!"

Rob took a step back and spun around and threw his arms up in disgust. "This is the exact reason why this nation is falling further and further behind the rest of our world. Because of our stupidity! Our denial! Our arrogance! Our selfishness! And this isn't just the fault of a bunch of naïve college students fed a bill of fucking goods, but a systemic attempt by stupid politicians to keep people stupid so they can maintain power on other's fear and ignorance! The United States no longer leads in education, or health care, but we do lead in these categories- our excessive defense spending that outspends thirty other countries, the majority, our allies, number of Covid-19 infections and deaths, the number of people incarcerated per capita, and the number of people who refuse to believe in evolution and think God made the fucking world in six days and decided to take Sunday off. Jesus titty fucking Christ."

Mercer the Doberman spoke up at Rob's pause. "See, that's why I'm intrigued about the combloc system and its stabil-"

"Yeah, I guess things could be stable if you have a giant military dictatorship with a huge secret security apparatus that monitors and coercive a populace into compliance to the party line! Thank you for your insightful concept Mister Mercer! Why don't you grow those stupid eyebrow spots out some more so you can become the next Leonid fucking Brezhnev! If you think the Soviet tankie approach to problems is a good thing- you need your fucking head examined, because if Russia, who by the way, is our geopolitical foe, mind you again- is your idea to make this nation great somehow, because you all think hard left politics is so productive and contributed to the world- I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!? -SPUTNIK!?"

Everyone could see the red under Rob's fur as he breathed heavily from his angry, explosive rant. The whole kitchen was silent. Realizing what he had said and done, Rob took a moment to just calm himself down.

"This country used to be great. We had our sad moments in history, and we've faltered and made terrible mistakes- but people strove to overcome that. We tried to unite this nation together, even if it wasn't perfect, or flawed. We worked to overcome our wrongs, we worked to right what was wrong, we sacrificed for the greater good, for our friends and neighbors. We reached for the stars- literally. We created countless technological advances because of our system's ability to stimulate innovation. We appreciated intellect, not belittle it. Now we're at each other's throats- we're not Americans anymore, we're hyphenated Americans. We do what's best for our little group, not for this nation. A house divided will not stand. And while we fight amongst ourselves, our foes- China, Iran, North Korea, and Russia, laugh at us. They have destroyed this nation without firing a shot. No outside threat will take us down- we will destroy ourselves."

Rob grew quiet, just as Householder burst into the kitchen. "Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on here? What's all the yelling!"

"We had a disagreement..." Ben spoke up quietly.

"Rob wanted to yell at us." Haley responded.

"Oh really? Rob, come to my office! And as for all of you- back to work! Maybe you deserved getting yelled at!" Householder scolded.

Rob bitterly exited the kitchen.

---

Stepping into Householder's cramped little office, he stood watching the chubby wolf waddle his way in and slam the door behind him.

"What the fuck did you do?" Householder asked him bluntly with a smirk. "I step out of my house and I just hear a damn screaming match going on!"

"I'm admittedly having a really bad day...and those guys just hit a nerve with their stupid shit they blabber about."

"Typical Democrats." Snorted Householder. "I always tell them they're fucking stupid! Never seem to wrap their heads around it~"

"They're young. When life beats them down a bit- they'll learn." Rob shrugged. "They'll moderate their views."

"Eh, Demos are just dumb. Everyone wants to be a liberal when they're young, Rob. It's all shiny and new. It's the politics for little selfish kids who want everything handed to them by the government."

"Not quite, Dan. Heh, I mean, Republicans like free shit too- don't tell me any different, or you're a fucking liar." Smirked the wolf-hybrid. "If that's what they believe in- so be it."

"Heh, what kind of political realm are you from?"

"None of your business." Smiled Rob. "My political views are my political views- they range all over the place on a variety of topics, because I think for myself, not what the party line says."

"Heh, solid red Republican for me. Trump country, Rob!"

"Yuck, no thanks~" Rob chuckled cynically. "You can keep that Perry county shit to yourself."

Householder insincerely grinned at Rob.

"Long story short. I blew an engine on a very expensive plane coming into Akron, and despite telling you that I was going to be late- you just run your cocksucker at me for being late! What'd you do Dan? Fall and hit your head or something? And I finally just had enough of those guys in the kitchen constantly blabbering about the same stupid shit, and I went off on them, and I was wrong. And then Tyrone said the wrong thing and-"

"Tyrone is another dumb blackie that comes through here." Dan rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me." Rob glared.

"Oh come on Rob, you know it's true~"

"I don't, actually."

"He's like all the other stupid porch monkey's- obnoxious and full of himself. Everything and their mother's discriminatory! Black likes matter- if they truly mattered those niggers wouldn't be shooting themselves all the time!"

"You're just a stupid hick, Householder."

"I'm a stupid hick you say?"

"Yeah."

"Well then you're a faggot!" laughed Householder. Rob didn't flinch.

"I am. And you're about a cheeseburger away from a heart attack." Rob retorted with no expression on his face. "You ever call anyone those kind of epithets again, I'll let the city of Akron know. I'm sure that'll go over nicely. I called him a nigger to call him out very specifically since he called me a gook. The nineteen-fifties called, they want their epithets back. Stupid boomer."

Rob opened the door and left in a huff, leaving Householder to just sit at his desk, looking dumbfounded and pissed off.

---

Rob missed having lunch with Sam, due to being so busy. But right on time, after work, he picked him up from the library, where he presented Sam with his new laptop, which excited the wolf. They got it quickly set up, and it was packaged away in a laptop bag Rob had gotten him. From there, they drove to his house, where Rob was invited for dinner. As he drove to Goodyear Boulevard, Rob pondered just what he was going to expect stepping into that home. A sense of discomfort filled him.

Pulling up to the curve, Rob parked his truck and climbed out with Sam, who carried his backpack and new laptop bag. He always ran up to the house with an eager run. Rob followed behind and walked slowly, eyeballing all the dilapidated features of the run down cape cod. The front door opened to reveal Isaac, the disheveled looking brown wolf letting his son in.

"Good evening." Rob greeted.

"Come on in~" Isaac greeted with a smile. Rob grasped the storm door and stepped inside, to be immediately met by the smell of mildew and weed. The cape cod was dim; a squiggly white bulb glowed from a lamp in the corner that was missing its lamp shade. The walls had cracking paint that was discolored by years of smoke, and mildew and mold grew in the corners near the ceiling. The carpet was a tired, and matted brown shag carpet, showing years of wear and tear. A small flat screen blared a mind numbing reality TV show. In the opposite corner sat a loveseat, where Isaac must have sat at. A small table sat beside it, where drug paraphernalia openly sat at, next to a busted lamp. Rob closed his eyes and stayed calm at the sight of a burned up spoon, and some syringes, sitting on a glass mirror.

Isaac walked back over to his spot. He wore a pair of flip-flops, gym shorts that sagged, revealing plaid underwear, and a tanktop, which did not hide a bit of a beer gut. Both his arms sported black and gray sleeves, that went with a tattooed neck and chest. His brown locks of hair looked greasy and unkempt, tousled atop his head. He had a scraggly looking goatee. He sat back down in his seat and watched TV. The sound of cooking got Rob's attention as he walked by him.

"Mom!" he could hear Sam call. "Rob is here!"

"Oh good! He can have a seat at the table." Kayla was heard to say.

The dining room was a cramped little square, looking not much better than the kitchen. The table was rough looking, with its veneered surface chipping and scuffed away. Above the table was a chandelier, with only two light bulbs glowing, the rest burned out. On the wall, between two windows was a framed portrait of Sam with his parents, smiling in front of their house. It momentarily brought a smile to his face.

Kayla emerged clutching a pan that was filled with what looked like steaming hot Hamburger helper. She sat that on the middle of the table. She returned with a bunch of paper plates and plastic forks. There wasn't anything else to offer, other than a couple bottles of water. Rob took a seat, as Isaac and Sam joined him. Kayla finally took a seat herself.

"Rob thank you so much for coming- I wanted to make more...but budgets and you know..."

"It's alright~" smiled Rob. "I really appreciate this."

Kayla doled out portions of Hamburger helper for everyone, and they sat around eating it and talking. Isaac and Kayla wanted to know more about the man who was helping their son out.

"Please tell me a bit about yourself, Rob~" Isaac asked curiously.

Rob looked up at him mid-chew, and swallowed. "I'm thirty-eight years old, I run a business named United Barev Industries, that I founded with my best friend back home in Newark Ohio, and we're involved in electronics manufacturing, broadcasting, and aviation services."

"Ah, neat~" Isaac nodded as he grabbed for his bottle of water.

"I'm an indentured servant- I mean volunteer at the Akron Community Center. Over a legal matter from last year."

"Sam's mentioned some of that~" Kayla chimed in. "We're just really appreciative of you helping Sam. We've been having such a hard time lately."

"Everyone has- and I understand fully." Rob acknowledged. "I saw him one day walking home in the rain, and I knew I had to help. It's the least I could do."

"And we really thank you for buying him the laptop."

"Again, it's not a problem." Rob smiled. "He's a very bright and talented boy- lots of potential."

"Yep!" Sam agreed with a laugh and grin.

"He's a very quick learner, and he's a very well behaved boy." Kayla complimented. "Sam was a very pleasant surprise."

"Oh yeah~" Rob responded with a mouthful.

"Yeah... Sam came about when I was a teenager... a little miracle came in a bad point in my life..."

"That's why we're together- for him." Isaac added.

"Well isn't that nice~" Rob feigned a compliment.

"I'm from New York originally- I moved here when Sam was born."

"I see~"

"Williamstown."

"I'm from Akron, actually Canton, but I grew up here." Isaac added.

"Ah." Nodded Rob. "So are you working?"

"I've been out of work for some time now." The wolf admitted. "You know how it is? Economic instability... and I got some issues I've been struggling to iron out."

"You drink too much, and do too much drugs." Kayla stated bluntly.

"Yes, yes I do..." Isaac rolled his blue eyes.

Rob didn't say anything in response at first. "Well...we're not perfect..."

"Exactly!"

"But we can always improve ourselves~" Rob stared.

"I'll admit, I come from a pretty fucked up family." Isaac added.

"...we both have family drama stuff." Kayla added as she leaned towards Rob.

"I understand completely." Rob sympathized.

"Like, my Dad had a drug problem, and he overdosed and died when I was fifteen. My Mom's sitting in a prison in West Virginia for being an unknowing accessory to a murder. I got a uncle who's in prison for murder, and another uncle who's in prison for selling dope. My whole family is fucked up, or dead, from drugs. I tried to not go down that path...and...well...failed. So I'm thirty-one and haven't worked since I was like...twenty-five?"

"Wow."

"My parents divorced when I was twelve...and that's when all my problems started..." Kayla admitted to Rob. "I have an older sister who lives in Williamstown, and a nephew, but...we don't talk anymore, not since Sam was born."

"How old are you?" Rob asked her.

"Twenty-three."

"You were fourteen when Sam was born."

"Yeah...I...made some mistakes and ended up dropping out of school and living with Isaac in Akron."

Rob exhaled slowly at the news. Now things were making sense.

"You know...it's not easy being the only source of income other than what Isaac pulls in with his side projects."

"I can only imagine..."

"That's why I'm...and Isaac...are so appreciative."

"It's my moral duty, to help people." Rob nodded. "He's a really smart kid- and I really like talking to him during my lunch break."

"It's fun!" Sam smiled.

Rob mustered a smile for him.

Following dinner, Rob helped clean up the table, as Sam showed off his new laptop to his parents. He couldn't wait to use it for school. As Sam showed his Mom some of the features of his new Thinkpad, Rob observed Isaac sitting down at his spot and messing around with a syringe. Rob closed his eyes at the sight.

"Isaac...I need some weed before I go to work..." Kayla said to him.

"Fine, here." Isaac grunted, handing her a glass bowl with some weed packed into it.

"Thanks~" she responded. Rob watched her shove that into her mouth and light the end with a lighter. She took a deep inhale, and coughed a thick gray smoke. She tapped her chest and waited a moment before hitting it again. Rob frowned at the pathetic sight. His frown deepened at watching Isaac prepare to jab himself with a needle to inject what looked like heroin.

"Rob, I need to go put my computer away and take a shower~" Sam announced to him.

"Sam, you go do that, and I'm going to talk to your parents for a moment, okay?"

"Sure~" he smiled. He took his computer with him. Rob's smile stayed on his face until he heard Sam's bedroom door click shut. It immediately faded. Rob turned around to stare at Isaac and Kayla with a look of disdain on his face.

"You know, I feel sorry for your kid." Rob fired off. "I can't believe you two just do drugs in front of him..."

"It could be worse..." Isaac grunted.

"I don't know what could be 'worst'? Beating your kid? Emotionally abusing them? Been there, done that myself. Don't you realize that you're hurting your kid doing this? Sam has so much potential in his life, and you're holding him back! Is this the life you want him to live? In deplorable conditions?"

Isaac looked annoyed at Rob's scolding as he jabbed a needle into his arm. He winced a bit at it as he injected heroin into his arm.

"I can't believe you're just doing this in front of me..."

"I got a problem, Rob. I know."

"Yes, you have a serious problem... and one of these days, you're going to die from it." Rob scolded him. "Is that what you want for Sam? To come home and find you, or both of you, dead?"

"Heh, we're all gonna die someday." Isaac shrugged.

"That's a very fast way of doing that..." the wolf-hybrid glared.

"It's terrible...I know...but I don't know what to do..." Kayla admitted to Rob. "I just... I got hooked on it because I got scared and stressed out at being a Mom...when my own family was falling apart, and everything was going wrong!"

Rob glanced at Kayla. "You were thirteen when you got pregnant didn't you?"

"Yeah..."

Rob stared at Isaac. "You were twenty-two..."

"Yeah..." Isaac sighed out.

"That's sick." Rob shook his head. "That is really sick."

"Well I coulda just walked way, couldn't I? At least I stuck around for the kid."

"Yeah, and what else? Oh wow, you stuck around, so now your kid gets to watch you get fucked up on drugs."

"He's a smart kid...he'll understand someday."

"If he makes it that far." Rob snapped back. "Sam walked ten miles a day, probably in rain, snow, sunshine, with little protection, so he can do school work and get food for the two of you...because you two seem incapable of overcoming your vices. How sad...a nine year old has to be the parent."

"What's it to ya, Rob?" Isaac snapped, his words becoming slurred. "You wanna molest my son or something?"

Rob ground his teeth. "You would know firsthand..."

Isaac got up and burped loudly. He staggered his way through the dining room into the kitchen, where he threw the back door open. In a pathetic sight, Rob watched him drop his shorts, exposing his buttocks to Rob, as he took a long piss looking out in his backyard. He braced himself against the doorframe. Rob closed his eyes and shuddered a bit.

"I have to go to work Rob..." Kayla sighed. Without saying a goodbye, she grabbed her purse and walked out the front door and closed it behind her. Rob watched Isaac turn around with his shorts still bunched at his ankles. His floppy tan cock dribbled piss as he staggered back, out of his mind from the drugs. He tripped over his own pants and fell on the ground with a thud. Rob watched him get up and get back into his chair, looking pathetic. Outside, Rob could hear the van strain to start, with the hesitating whine of the starter unable to turn the engine over. Rob smacked a paw over his face and ran it down slowly. He shook his head.

---

A rainstorm brought nighttime early to Akron. Rain fell from blackened skies, splattering against the windshield of Rob's truck. It glistened from streetlights, only to be whisked away by the wiper blades. The process repeated itself. In the darkened cab of his work truck, Rob drove Kayla to work, at the McDonalds on the other side of Akron.

"I'm sorry that I went off on you two." Rob admitted. "I shouldn't have done it."

"No, it's fine." Was Kayla's response. "We have a serious problem... and... it's just not a good time at all for us... and it's been getting worse."

Rob nodded his head.

The wolfess sighed a bit. "I keep telling Isaac that he needs to get himself cleaned up- get off these fucking drugs! And he needs to get a job! I mean, it's more or less his own damn fault we're living like this! Being just a lazy bum on the couch all day being tweaked out, drunk, or baked!"

"Addiction consumes you- it creeps up on you."

"I'm afraid that one of these days, I, or Sam, are just going to find Isaac dead on the couch." Kayla admitted. "It's also my fault too..."

Rob tried to be sympathetic. "It feels to me that things just got out of control as the years have gone by."

"My parents relationship blew up when Dad found out Mom was cheating on him. It was an angry, hateful divorce that pitted parents and against kids, and other family! Dad and Mom pulling me, my older sister Mary, and older brother Devin, all apart. And I fucked up because I was hurt by it all...I started seeing all the wrong people... and that's how Isaac knocked me up."

Rob nodded with pursed lips as he listened.

"I was so scared- thirteen and pregnant. The school was livid, my parents were livid, and it just got so bad that when Sam was born, I just dropped out of school, and went to live with Isaac, who went back to Akron. He promised me all this shit- he'd take care of me, it would work out, he'd have a job, HA! Motherfucker hasn't worked in years. Last job he had, when I first moved in...he lost! For being high on the job at a tire shop. Then he got me fucked up on drugs too. But that's also my fault. Rob, it's just fucked up- and I bet you think we're both fucked up parents."

"That's why I'm trying to help Sam."

"Why thought?"

"I have to. It would kill me on the inside if I didn't." Rob explained. He grew quiet for a moment, while he gathered his thoughts.

"...I remember being nine years old, and feeling so alone, even with family." Rob recalled. "I had an emotionally absent mom, and a very emotionally abusive dad who was reeling from serious disabling injuries from a workplace accident years before. My childhood was so lonely, and I can still feel that loneliness when I think about it. When I saw Sam at the community center by himself all day, at the library, or eating lunch alone, it just didn't sit right with me. And when I saw him go walking home in a tremendous downpour, I just had to do something. I had to- there was no choice."

"I'm so thankful~" Kayla said. She gasped a bit and tried to hold back from crying. She covered her face and looked away. She took a slow inhale through her nose to gain her bearings. "I wanted to be a good mom, and I'm not. That's why I'm estranged from my family in New York."

"Nobody's perfect, but you have to try, Kayla." Rob said in a serious tone.

Pulling into the McDonald's lot, Rob parked the truck by the entrance, so she didn't have to walk too much in the rain. Before she opened the door to leave, Rob grabbed her by her arm. She saw that Rob reached out to hand her some money, in the form of four fifty-dollar bills.

"Get yourself an Uber, or a taxi when you get off work. I'll figure something out to help you with your car problems." Rob promised her.

"Oh my god...thank you Rob."

"You have a good night at work, and take care will ya?"

"Okay, Rob. Good night~"

"Night~"

Rob popped the shifter into drive and spun around the lot to leave. He stopped at the stop sign and paused for just a moment. He ran both his paws across his face, and through his hair to regain his bearings. He felt emotionally beat up just from his angry exchange at dinner. The whole day just emotionally beat him down.

A honk from an annoyed motorist got his attention, as headlights blared behind him. Another honk annoyed Rob; in response, he flipped the driver off and peeled out in his left turn, his Firestones spinning on the wet pavement. Rob made the drive back across Akron to the airport, where he then had to wait for a ride to come and pick him up. He pulled onto the tarmac, and came to park his truck at the hangar. He backed in to park it beside Felix's now disabled Lightning. Rob got out and looked at the now empty nacelle; the destroyed Allison sat on a piece of oil soaked cardboard, and the new Allison wasn't completely taken out of its crate yet. The mangled motor mount sat off to the side, showing the dent where the engine was dropped on it. Rob let out a bitter sigh.

At nine o'clock, his transport plane arrived from Newark. Its landing lights beaming through the pouring rain, taxied "Explorer", his twin-engine Convairliner. The polished metal CV-440 rumbled in on the tarmac as Rob waited, dressed in his chemical suit like a rain coat. He spotted his adopted son Felix, and his now husband Tony at the controls of "Explorer". They turned the plane around so its boarding door would face Rob. Engine one was powered off, and the door was hydraulically opened, its own integral folding stair deploying. Rob walked up the aluminum steps and into the plane, his rubber fabric suit dripping wet from the walk across the tarmac. The stairs were folded up, the door secured, and engine one restarted, for the flight back to Newark.

Rob stepped into the cockpit as he took the upper part of the suit off, revealing the cloth suspenders holding up the trousers. He looked mentally burned out, which was immediately evident to the two tattooed up, fawn Dobers.

"Long day, huh?" Tony asked as Rob sat down in the jump seat. He nodded in agreement.

"Let's get you home, Rob." Felix said as he began to taxi for the runway. The propliner got back into the air quickly, its twin Double-Wasps piercing the night calm as it slipped from view into the blackened clouds. There was some rough turbulence that the Convair passed through, but once they punched through the storm, they entered the calm night air, where the stars twinkled, above the black cloud deck.

"I made a fool of myself today." Rob admitted in a bitter tone as he just sat, hunched over with his elbows resting on his lap. "I let that engine failure just spoil the whole day- now they all won't speak to me at the community center. I'm now a persona non grata. I have dinner with Sam's family, and I went off on them. How can one live a life like that, with a kid? And not realize that you're setting him up for failure? It's so frustrating..."

Felix nodded. "The Lightning will be fixed- I'm not worried about it. Shit happens."

Tony adjusted a gauge and rested a sleeved arm on the arm rest. "You gotta let it go Rob- pick your battles. But I know how you feel about the kid. I see it all the time at the library, yo."

Rob nodded in a bitter tone. He got up and braced himself against the cockpit door. "It's a fucked up world, I guess." He turned and left for his private quarters.

Rob stepped into his darkened office, at the tail of the plane. The "radial song", which was already quiet on account of the muffled exhaust system of the Convair, was even quieter. He flipped on his desk's table lamp, which filled the room with a soft glow. He sat his chemical suit on the chair and took the trousers off, which he folded neatly atop. The wolf-hybrid grumbled and rubbed his forehead from a bad tension headache. He opened a drawer and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol, and popped two with a bottle of water. He sat down and laid out on his bed and looked up at the ceiling, with a blank, expressionless face.

---

Watching the reflection in the mirror, Rob sat with a towel draped around him, getting a haircut by Anton. Wet hair was manipulated around by Anton's fingers, and neatly trimmed with a silver shear. He'd sometimes stop and use a spray bottle to keep Rob's locks of brown hair wet, and continue on trimming it up. Rob took the time between observing the husky's handiwork to just rest and reflect on things.

The week concluded on a really terrible foot. He felt embarrassed and burned out from his angry outburst on Thursday. The following day, nobody would dare speak to him; not even Householder. The only person willing to see him was Sam, at lunch, optimistic and eager as always. It was a faux pas that he regretted. And when he went to help finish up the repairs on Felix's Lightning, to fly it back home to Newark-Heath, he slipped and fell off a oil slickened ladder, landing hard on his back, on the concrete floor. It left him in tremendous discomfort, and once again flared up his prior back injuries. He ended up taking the day off from weight lifting with Anton, to recuperate. It was just the two of them at the gym; Borr had to work and do a complicated videotape transfer, and his husband Joey had to make a fast trip to Opa-Locka, to check up on his business partner.

"What do you think?" Anton asked him. He gently ran a comb through Rob's hair, to show him the waves and final look.

"I like it~" Rob approved.

"How about we get you all cleaned up?"

"Sure."

Rob took the towel and wiped his face clean. He sat it down on the chair, which sat on a blue tarp laid out on the floor, covered in hair clippings. With just their jockstraps on, Rob walked to the shower room with Anton, who confidently put a beefy, tattooed arm around him. Stepping into the concrete square of a room, hot water was turned on, and Anton and Rob stood in the hot stream, soaking up and relaxing in it. Rob was simply quiet the whole time while he got himself clean.

"You okay, Rob?" Anton asked him out of concern.

"I'm just not feeling all that well from yesterday's fall." The wolf-hybrid admitted. Anton walked over to massage his shoulders. He was always amazed at how tense Rob felt when he massaged his muscles. He was just a very tense person.

"...and I'll admit, I made a fool of myself, yelling at a bunch of college students and telling them they're a bunch of stupid fucks..."

"Do you think they deserved it?"

Rob grumbled a bit. "No, not really, but they finally got on my fucking nerves with their naïve bullshit. Every single day I would be in the kitchen working and I'd just hear them whine and cry about their woes, how Bernie Sanders got beat out by Biden, how Biden's not liberal enough, how's he's just an old, out of touch piece of wonder bread, and if you just tax the rich you'd get your social programs paid for- it finally hit a nerve and I went off- I was wrong- I shouldn't have."

"You had a bad day." The husky nodded. He put his arms around Rob and held him close.

"I shouldn't let that dictate my interactions with people- but here we are." Rob rolled his eyes. "But when you blow a half-million dollar engine, and even though you told your boss, or whatever you'd call Householder, that you're gonna be late, and you're still chastised for being late? That just lit the fuse. And I have a really short fuse."

Anton cupped his paws over Rob's cock and balls. A grin curled up on his face. "You have something else that's short~ Sorry! Sorry! Couldn't help it!" The Ukrainian laughed as Rob elbowed him in response.

"Everyone thinks they're at the chuckle buster comedy club or something..."

"Nah~" the husky chuckled. "I do like to think I'm at the stud farm~"

"Oh, here we go."

"Relax!" Anton laughed as he went back to rubbing Rob's backside. "I think you need a release."

"I do~"

Anton momentarily paused at Rob's open admittance. "Well...I'm just your stud for that~"

"I just...gotta be careful... my back is really hurting...so some positions might not work..."

The husky snapped a finger. "I got the solution for ya~"

---

"Ben... I never thought in my life you were going to see this side of me... and I was going to see this side of you..."

Looking horribly embarrassed, a naked Rob laid ass up on Ben Reynolds. The eighteen year old husky was used by Rob as a sort of mount to lay on, to take pressure off his hips and back. The husky's head rested between Rob's legs, while Rob saw Ben's chubby front and center to his face.

"Heh, I'm not complaining." Ben chuckled. Rob blushed when he felt Ben caress his butt, and pet his tail.

Anton and Borr's room was cozy and dim, with just some light from the closed blinds filtering in. He watched Anton grab some stuff from his drawer, the buff husky fetching a bottle of lube. He grabbed his black leather cockring and twirled it around in his other paw as he walked over, a smile curling up as he laid eyes on Rob. He walked up to Rob, and Rob's view gradually became dominated by his big soft cock and balls that dangled between his beefy legs. He strapped the cockring around the base of his thick cock and balls and adjusted it to make it snug. He scratched his trimmed pubes. Kneeling down, Anton nonchalantly put his muzzle on Ben's tan chubby and sucked on it. His blue eyes looked at Rob the whole time. Ben's moan made Rob blush. He pulled his muzzle off and gently lifted Rob's muzzle up for a kiss. The wolf-hybrid felt the husky's tongue make contact with his. It was an unexpected, deep kiss from him.

"Good." Smiled Anton. He stood up, gripped the base of his cock and fed it into Rob's muzzle. His uncut softie rested on Rob's tongue, as he closed his lips over the thick shaft and felt Anton begin to thrust it slow in and out of his muzzle. Rob felt in real time his husky cock grow hard, a full nine inches soon filling his entire muzzle. Anton grunted a little bit under his breath as he continued to slowly thrust his cock in and out. The cockring made his cock get even thicker, as blood vessels bulged on his tan shaft. Getting fully hard, the husky slowly pulled his nine inches out, the foreskin pulled back to reveal a fat, mushroom shaped head that was glistening with spit.

Anton climbed on the bed and assumed his position behind Rob. The husky put himself over Ben's head, and the young husky spread Rob's cheeks for him.

"Oooh~ I love the way you spread his fucking butt cheeks~" chuckled Anton. He bent down and placed his muzzle firmly against Rob's hole and began eating him out. The wolf-hybrid let out a moan and momentarily felt his muscles tense up from the sudden sensation. Anton rimmed his butt and spat on his hole. He took his bottle of lube and lubed up his throbbing shaft. He proceeded to rub it teasingly, up and down Rob's crack, smearing his spit and lube around. He stopped right at the hole and slowly began to feed himself in. Rob grunted a bit and felt Anton's thickness spread him open. He relaxed his hole and let the husky slide himself in without resistance. Anton whistled a bit at the snugness, which he liked. He hilted himself in and immediately adjusted his pose, so he could brace himself over Rob with his arms. He then began to thrust.

Rob closed his eyes and laid on Ben, being bounced by Anton as he worked his cock. The husky worked himself like a jackhammer, ensuring that every inch of his penis got pleasured. Rob felt Ben's dick slap against his muzzle; the young husky was clearly turned on by what he saw. He was just as hung as Anton. The big husky would sometimes grunt, say a few dirty things, but kept at his moderate pace.

"Doing good my stud?"

"Yeah~"

"Good..." Anton chuckled. "You like my big dick?"

"Heh, If I didn't we wouldn't be doing this~"

"Heh." Grinned the husky. "Gonna fucking breed your hole... make it all creamy..."

Rob huffed and puffed a bit at the sensation; he finally gave into temptation and took Ben's solid nine inches into his muzzle. Ben let out a grunt and a moan as his cock was finally pleasured. It throbbed as Rob worked his muzzle up and down.

"Fuck!" Ben exclaimed. "That's nice~"

Anton felt himself growing closer to cumming; his pace quickened and he grunted more. His balls tightened, his cock throbbing. "Getting closer... almost there...yeah...here it comes stud..."

Rob felt that shaft get slammed into him completely; he felt that cock throb, followed by warmness as Anton came in him. The Ukrainian husky let out a sigh of relief, and gently laid himself down on Rob's backside. Rob felt him lick his ears playfully. "Take care of Ben's needs...he needs a release too~"

Rob closed his eyes and continued to suck, as Ben moaned beneath him. Rob eventually pushed the young husky over the edge, and the wolf-hybrid got a mouthful of musky, salty cum. The husky gave a lot to Rob, who ended up swallowing it. He pulled his muzzle off and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Wow..." Rob muttered.

"Wow, indeed." Chuckled Anton. "Do you feel better?"

"Almost."

"Oh. Ohhhh~" he grinned.

Anton sat up and pulled his throbbing cock out. He took his cockring off and tossed it aside and rolled Rob over, who winced from his sore back. Lying on his back, his own cock sat rock hard, which Anton quickly took into his muzzle and began to suck vigorously. Rob was already so turned on by everything that it didn't take much, or very long to cum in the husky's muzzle. Anton swallowed it all.

Rob laid his head back for a bit, breathing slowly to regain his bearings. He didn't feel embarrassed now; he actually felt strangely content. Anton helped him up and brought him over to be pulled into his beefy, tattooed arms, which wrapped around him. Rob had his head resting on Anton's shoulder and chest, which was all tattooed up. Ben curled up on the opposite end, and they all rested.

"What on earth did you and Borr do to Ben?" Rob asked Anton sarcastically.

"Made me realize how much I like ass and cock~" Ben laughed with a cocky, if slightly twisted grin.

"It's true~" smiled Anton. "Especially my big cock! It needs worshipped!"

"Oh boy..." Rob shook his head.

"Did you like it?"

"I did~" Rob nodded. He felt Anton give him a gentle squeeze.

"Good~" he smiled. "See? You need to just let your hair down and relax, Rob. It'll do you some good. And that's what my big cock does."

"Does me some good?"

"Yeah!"

"It does my ass a lot of good!" Ben chuckled. He looked over at Rob with a partial grin on his face. "I always knew you could suck dick like a motherfucker~"

Rob blushed at the compliment. Anton smiled and chuckled at the quip. The wolf-hybrid just nodded in agreement and went along with it. He felt so comfortable and content, that his eyes soon grew heavy. Rob fell asleep against Anton, and he just laid there, petting Rob and letting him rest and decompress.

---

Leaning against the tarmac's fence, Agent Dove watched Rob come in for a landing. Dressed for the weather in his dark blue FBI jacket, he awaited Rob's arrival, for a friendly "check-in". Rob taxied onto Batavia's tarmac, in front of the now opened back up Tristate museum. He flew in his Navy Reserve Hellcat, another of his new arrivals to his museum collection. It was similarly dressed like his newly repainted FG-1; a wide orange band on the rear fuselage, around the "star and bar", and the prop boss painted in the same international orange. He parked the plane, and ground crewmen chocked the wheels after the engine was powered down. Rob hopped out in his usual khaki flight attire. Rob walked up with the usual blank expression on his face.

"New mount?" chuckled a grinning Dove.

"Anniversary present~" Rob responded. "Not really here for small talk, Dove. You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes, for a check-in." the wolf chuckled amusingly at Rob's seriousness. "So how are you liking things up in Akron? How are things going?"

Rob didn't immediately respond, but his glare gave it away to Dove.

"I called in to inquire about you, as part of being your case manager and liaison between yourself, Akron, and the FBI... and I was informed that you are having some issues with your coworkers at the center?"

Rob rolled his eyes. "I made a fucking ass of myself Thursday, because I let a bunch of college students and their tripe piss me off after a bad morning- so I just went off and made a bunch of stupid, unprofessional, off the cuff remarks that pissed everyone off. Then that fat fuck, Householder just sets me off too with his dumb hick-ass. So yeah, I'm having some issues. Part of me rather have just sat in federal prison. There'd be more honor there than washing dishes and cleaning toilets."

"Did you really call a Tyrone D'Angelo the N-word, Rob?"

"Yes. Because he called me a gook. So I called out his hypocrisy in a really, blunt, discriminatory way. Typical- went way over his head."

"Heh, my father once told me that you don't stoop to their level when you're faced with an argument." Dove chuckled. "You are someone who lets things build up until they just explode out, like a volcanic eruption."

"They're a bunch of stupid college kids who don't know any better."

"They're all young- they got plenty of time to learn how the world works. Let's not kid ourselves that we were like that at that age too."

"Then what do you call fat fucks like Householder? He's someone who looks at reality and replaces it with his own."

"That's just stupid." Dove chuckled.

"Stupidity is a dime a dozen these days. This nation is full of mediocre hacks." Rob scoffed. "It's why this pandemic is as bad as it is."

"Just let it go, Rob. You'll thank yourself by doing that than just dwelling on it." Dove offered his two cents. "I also heard that you've been helping someone else?"

"Yeah." Rob acknowledged. "I met a kid there- and I'm trying to help him and his family out."

"Ah~" Dove nodded.

"I feel it's the right thing to do. Kid's nine, his parents aren't married...they're having...uhh...problems."

"Now nice of you~" Dove smiled. "Just as always...stay out of trouble."

Rob chuckled and smirked. "Can't make any guarantees, Dove."

"I've got my eye on you~" Dove wagged a finger.

"I'm sure you g-men do~" Rob chuckled.

---

Cruising at ten-thousand feet over the colorful hills of Appalachia flew Rob's "Vanguard". The "white-top" L-749 cruised amongst the scattered clouds on its way back to Ohio. The short-fuselage Connie was Rob's primary transport plane for Barev, having temporarily replaced "Coneflower", his L-1049E, which got heavily damaged in an attack the previous year. The upper half of the plane was painted titanium white, which bore "United Barev Industries" in black stenciling. A thin, royal blue cheatline separated the white from the polished aluminum skin. The nose bore Rob's "WHIN Arrow", which was homage to the military "MATS" system. "WHIN" was Rob's broadcasting call sign; it read out as "We're Here In Newark!". The thimble shaped, black radome completed "Vanguard's" regal looks.

In formation, the curvaceous Lockheed flew with Rob's less polished looking cargo plane; the slab-sided, massive, Douglas Globemaster. "Ole Shaky", a restored C-124C, was huge and ungainly looking in its unpainted USAF scheme. Looking like a double-decker bus with wings, the mighty Globemaster flew a bunch of vehicles that belonged to Barev back to Ohio, for much needed periodic maintenance through Rob's dedicated facility in Newark.

Rob sat in the forward half of the fuselage. "Vanguard" was divided into two sections; the forward half of the plane was a large lounge with some swivel chairs and a couch with a TV bolted on the other side. Towards the cockpit and crew quarters was a small video editing station, for both modern UHD, and a small analog suite, complete with a couple open reel videotape machines and decks for both U-Matic and Betacam. The rear of the Connie was Rob's own personal little study area and bedroom, for the long hauls. The two compartments were separated by a chrome lined galley, and bathrooms. Rob sat at a card table, by one of the round windows. He had a perfect view of "Ole Shaky" in flight, and the massive propellers that propelled the Constellation along. The wolf-hybrid often liked to sit by the windows at the propeller line and just watch for hours, absorbing in the monotonous, but mesmerizing sound of synchronized propellers. The big R-3350's that kept the L-749 aloft had a deep burble to them, something he called "radial song". The cuffed Curtiss propellers spun, their polished up blades flickering sunlight, and etching golden circles from the yellow tips. It was a perfect view to momentarily take one's mind off the monotonous paperwork sitting before him. A forlorn expression dragged his scarred up face down.

Looking back down, Rob was presented with a stack of paperwork. Termination paperwork. It was the livelihoods of five hundred employees of United Barev, who were laid off, effective immediately. He had to sacrifice workers from Barev One in Fairfax, and workers from Centoh's hubs in Lainsville, Columbus, and Chicago. The future Biloxi Mississippi hub for Centoh was put on indefinite hold. It was the bitter "final solution" Rob dreaded, but he had no choice; the economic downturn brought upon by a ravaging pandemic just tank Barev's finances. Five hundred employees of three thousand had to be let go, wages and bonuses trimmed back, overtime slashed. It was agreed upon by himself, Maverick, and the heads of Centoh and Barev One, who's signatures graced the termination document. Rob sighed a bit and jotted his name on it in blue ink. He capped his felt pen and rubbed his forehead out of frustration. He felt like he had just become the Ebenezer Scrooge of Barev. He just ruined five hundred people's hopes for the approaching holidays. It was a heavy feeling in his heart.

Setting the document back in its folder, he slid it aside and looked at his other loose stack of paperwork. Rob felt like a complete hypocrite, as he reread documents provided by the US Navy, concerning legal transfer and ownership of two rare Navy planes that were offered to him. Here he was, being part of letting hundreds of employees go, left to their fate in an already precarious time, and seeking to buy a FG-1A Corsair, and an FM-1 Wildcat. It was an opportunity that came at the worst possible time, but a once in a lifetime chance to get his paws on two war veteran airframes that the Navy declared surplus. It was five million dollars of his own money; not just any money in his bank account, but money accrued through two past lawsuits he had won. But the shameful sting of it still bothered Rob. He uncapped his felt pen and jotted his name and information on the documents.

Emerging through the galley door was Maverick Tokarev. The tall Russian husky was more casually dressed than Rob; he wore faded designer jeans, and a gaudily designed black, blue, and white American Fighter hoodie. A brace of U-Matic videotapes were braced under his arm. He sat the tapes down on the table, and took a seat opposite of Rob. The two took a moment to look out the window together at the scenery outside the plane.

"I feel bad." Rob admitted. "I just fucked over five hundred people, with Christmas two months away."

"I know." Maverick nodded. "But it had to be done."

"Sacrifice some than sacrifice all." Rob shrugged bitterly. "But it's still a bitter pill to swallow."

"It's been a really bad year..."

"Tell me about it..."

The two friends just sighed together about their misfortunes. Rob, from all his health and legal problems, and Maverick, who's wife died in a tragic car accident back in June.

Maverick fumbled his brow. "I feel like this is my fault, because I was in charge when everything began to collapse in. Then you have 'klystrongate' thanks to Narovec."

"Jerry got zapped."

"I didn't want to recreate K-19..." the husky shook his head. "It's my fault for-"

"No, Mav, it's not your fault." Rob pointed out. "Nobody could have predicted this was going to be this bad? Well, maybe except our government, which sat on it for months."

"Crazy~" chuckled Maverick cynically.

"We started this business in the last financial fuck-up, we can weather this out." Rob tried to assure. "...but we were also a lot smaller back then too. Little ripples are now tidal waves hitting our company because of the size."

"Yep."Maverick agreed. "I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel you know?"

"Yeah, same here." Rob nodded. "Heh, this is what a lack of leadership looks like."

"Elect a clown, expect a circus!"

Rob neatly stacked his Navy documentation and stowed that into another folder. He grabbed the two folders and got up with them. "I think I'm gonna lay down for a nap...I got a tension headache."

"Gotcha, Rob."

Retreating to his private quarter, Rob closed the narrow door to the faux wood bulkhead. He stood for a moment to collect his thoughts, and went over to sit at his desk. He sat the folders down, but stopped to open his Barev folder up one more time. He went through the documents and sorted through the pages to find some charts and line graphs, showcasing productivity, and profit margin. Rob tilted his head as he looked at the charts and the dates.

In January, Maverick had taken his place as the headman in charge of United Barev. Under his tenure, Rob saw a noticeable rise in productivity and profit after Maverick took charge. There was a dip in April, which was when he shut Barev down because of the pandemic taking full effect in the US. The chart went all over the place as the months went on, but there seemed to be a theme that Rob took notice on; Maverick seemed to have a resonance with workers that Rob lacked. The Russian husky had a friendly, warm, outgoing personality, compared to Rob's introverted standoffishness. Rob looked at the charts one more time, before putting it all away, and laying down to rest his head on his bed.

---

Flying low over the Ohio countryside was Joey's CV-2A Caribou, "Salvaged Wonder II". Painted dark green over white, its former Army colors in Vietnam, the twin-engine cargo plane was a peculiar sight. A boxy fuselage was attached to a set of shoulder mounted inverted gull wings, and a large, uplifted tail for the cargo ramp. Dual Twin-Wasps powered the silver Hamilton propellers, which propelled the plane along to Akron. Joey's cranked-wing box hauler usually performed the unglamorous role as the company's "parts hauler", shuttling spare engines and parts between the various hubs, performing yeoman duties alongside a Boeing C-97G for Freightmaster Systems International. Rob was borrowing it for an impromptu visit to see his buddy, Sam.

In the cargo hold, Rob sat looking at a strapped down, gray, Chevy Cruze. It was an impromptu buy to help Sam's family out. He had been paying Kayla so she could use an Uber to get to and from work, as the van had finally had it. Rob had taken one glance at it, and it was too far gone to even salvage. He saw the vehicle on his friend's GM lot, as he was taking his work vehicles in for maintenance, and snagged it up for a steal off the preowned lot.

Arriving into Akron-Fulton, the Caribou came in to land with its spidery landing gear. It touched down and used up very little runway as Joey aggressively deployed the reverse thrust with Felix at the controls. They taxied up to Rob's direction, to the Scottwood Aviation hangar that he always used. The Caribou was guided in and parked.

Deploying the rear loading ramp, Rob climbed down and walked around inspecting the Caribou for any damage. He was assisted by Joey and Felix, who inspected the other side. They signed off the flight paperwork, and proceeded to gingerly unload the car, which was strapped down to a trailer. It rolled out onto the tarmac with some effort. Rob grabbed his truck and pulled it around to hitch it up.

"So this is your Akron whip, eh?" chuckled Joey as he examined the beat up looking Chevy.

"Yeah, she's a bit rough, but she drives well for almost a hundred and seventy thousand miles~" Rob pointed out. "Got her for fourteen grand at a dealer across from the community center."

"Not bad~" Joey smiled. "Heh, you're so militantly independent."

"Damn straight, Joey."

The three climbed into his work truck, and with the trailer, rumbled out of the airport, to go visit the community center. On the drive, Rob pointed out some of the now familiar Akron landmarks along his commute to "work". After a ten minute drive, Rob pulled around back to the community center to park his truck in the empty back half of the lot, perpendicular to the yellow lines on the bleached pavement.

Rob stepped inside the lobby with Joey and Felix, and made a right to the library. As Rob walked by, he spotted Ally, who didn't even make eye contact with him. Rob's face soured in her presence; he had largely been estranged from his co-workers over the angry argument he had with them. Entering the library, Rob found Sam exactly where he predicted he would be at. Sitting at a table alone, Sam worked on the laptop Rob had bought him, with a pair of headphones on while he typed on his computer. Rob walked over to greet him.

"Hey Sam~" Rob greeted. His mask concealed the smile beneath it. Sam looked up and a smile immediately lit his face up.

"Hey!" he greeted. "I didn't think I would be seeing you today~"

"I was able to make a little time to come up and say 'hi'- I thought you'd like to meet some of my family." Rob motioned over to Joey and Felix. Sam looked over to see Joey and Felix, the two Dobermans. Joey was black and tan, while Felix was fawn- light tan and beige, his arms inked up in sleeves that ran to his wrists.

"This is my husband, Joey, and this is our adopted son, Felix." Rob introduced.

"Hello!" Sam smiled and waved. "I'm Sam Martin~"

"We've heard a lot about you~" smiled Joey behind his green cloth mask. "So nice to finally get to meet you!"

"It's just me~" he giggled. "I have lunch with Rob all the time, and he takes me home after I do my school work. I appreciate that."

Rob smiled at the compliment.

Letting Sam finish up his school work, they watched as he went to the cafeteria and returned, with a large plastic bag filled with Styrofoam containers of food for his parents. Taking him to the truck in the back, Sam mulled about "Indian summer"; it was a sunny, and abnormally warm eighty degree day in the middle of October. Rob showed Sam the car he had bought for his parents, and it made him excited. Getting into the truck, the extended-cab felt a bit cramped as Rob turned around slowly and began the commute back to Sam's home, on Goodyear Boulevard. Sam spent a lot of the time talking to Felix about his nascent interest in airplanes.

Turning onto the dead end street, Rob was instantly met the smell of petroleum, from the burning flues from the refinery, seemingly across the street. Rob parked in front of the house, and Sam jumped out, backpack bouncing against his back, as he ran up the yard, to go fetch his parents. He slipped inside for a moment, while Rob, Joey, and Felix waited by the truck. Soon Sam came bouncing out with his mom and Dad. Kayla looked tired as usual, and Isaac looked visibly intoxicated as they walked down the yard. Kayla wore shorts and a gray t-shirt, Isaac in gym shorts and a black wifebeater. Kayla's face had a look of shock when she saw the car sitting strapped down on the trailer. The wolfess covered her muzzle in complete surprise at Rob's generosity.

"Oh my god, you didn't! I- I- can't believe it." Kayla muttered. She was so shocked that she didn't even know what else to say.

"Wow." Isaac nodded. "Rob...holy fuck man."

"I wanted to help you two out." Rob nodded. "So please accept this. It's a two year old Cruze. It's a nice car, and everything's checked out."

Kayla wiped a tear from her eye, she was still left speechless as she examined it. "It's beautiful! Rob! I don't know how I can ever repay you?"

"Don't worry about it. That's what friends are for." The wolf-hybrid responded warmly.

"Thank you, Rob!" Isaac exclaimed.

"How about a photo?" Felix asked, who clutched Rob's Nikon in his grip.

Getting the Cruze unstrapped and backed off, Rob parked it in front of their home, and gathered with Sam, Kayla, and Isaac for a photo. Felix took aim and snapped a picture of the four of them posing with the new car. Sam, Isaac, and Kayla looked appreciative with their smiles. Rob gave a sort of half-smile on his face; it was the consequence of his facial paralysis, and stoicism. The group stood around and chatted for a bit, before they all parted ways to head for home.

---

Indian summer, brought summer like storms to Ohio. A cold front pushed through the state, flaring up storms along its path. The early morning sky was lit up by violent flashes of lightning through the towering clouds that reached to the heavens. It provided a unique backdrop to Rob's flight towards Akron.

Navigating the towering clouds, Rob sat strapped into the noisy cockpit of his MiG-17PF. The sky was still dim, as daylight further and further retreated away for the looming winter. The storm clouds appeared as black silhouettes, their details illuminated by fierce cloud lightning inside them. Bolts of jagged lightning spewed out, lighting up the cloud deck below. Turbulence rocked the old Soviet jet; its swept wings yawed and flexed as they carried two drop tanks. "Red 625", a bare-metal, Polish marked, Fresco-D, battled the elements. As the days shortened, and winter approached, Rob began flying his jet warbirds; they had radar to help him safely navigate in bad weather and dim light.

Another jolt of turbulence knocked Rob for a loop. The wolf-hybrid wore his jet flying suit; a G-suit beneath a black leather flying jacket that had a faux fur collar that was dark brown. He wore an orange ZsH-3 flight helmet, that bore the hammer and compass symbol of East Germany, complete with "DDR" above it. The rest of his face was concealed by goggles and a KM-32 oxygen mask clamped on.

"It's a pretty wild ride here at ten thousand feet- the turbulence is real good." Rob radioed over to the captain of a Delta 737 that was in the vicinity, heading to Cleveland. "I'm sure you guys are handling it a bit better than my MiG!"

Rob banked right and followed the openings in the clouds. He banked left and watched a wing graze a cloud as he swept by. Leveling out and just amazed at the lightning, he took his Nikon and snapped a couple photos, showing the clouds lit up by lightning. It took on a surreal appearance. He stowed the camera away when turbulence almost knocked the Fresco upside down. Rob firmly regained control and pressed on in his precarious tango amongst the clouds.

On the ground at Akron-Fulton, Sam stood in his dripping rain suit, under the protective cover of the hangar. Behind him, other mechanics and ground crew watched the thunderstorm.

"Buddy, you're always here, rain and shine- I like your determination." One of the mechanics complimented Sam.

"Well, what can I say?" smiled the kid.

Watching for Rob, Sam began to whistle the distinctive screech of a jet engine. Peering through the storm clouds, he spotted the landing lights to Rob's MiG-17. The plane was rocked by the storm, and it was clear that Rob was struggling against the turbulence. With everything down, Sam heard the roar of the afterburner engage, and Rob climbed away for another attempt. He circled twice, made a second attempt, but had to go around once more. Finally, he came in for a bumpy landing. The MiG soon came screeching up onto the tarmac, its turbojet letting out an ear shattering scream. Rob quickly shut the jet engine down, and one of the ground grew braved the elements to set a wood ladder up for Rob to climb out. He stepped onto the ladder, slammed the canopy shut, and climbed down, just as lightning flashed overhead. Rob rushed to the hangar to meet up with Sam.

"Morning Rob!" Sam greeted.

"Yes! Quite a morning." Laughed Rob over a blast of thunder. "Come on, let's get you to the center~"

The morning commute was painfully slow on account of the weather. Rob drove his truck through waterlogged streets of Akron. Colorful leaves blew through the wind, smacking against his windshield as the morning storm roared on through the city. Arriving at the center, the two went on their separate ways, and Rob began another dull day working in the kitchen.

For today Rob was part of helping to prep and cook food. While Ben washed dishes in the distance, Rob watched a pot of water begin to boil. He looked over at the box of instant mashed potatoes that came from GFS. It was the generic, mashed potatoes that he remembered being served in school for lunch. It wouldn't have been hard for him to peel and slice potatoes to mash himself, and it certainly would have tasted better, but that was beyond his say. Looking glum, Rob turned down the heat on the stove and poured in the powered potatoes, which he stirred, watching them soak up the water and begin to take on a whitish color.

The entire kitchen was quiet, and there was a weird tension that Rob could sense. The usual banter he had heard from day one, the ramblings of a close knit group of college kids, was eerily absent, save for a few quiet conversations here and there. After Rob's angry rant against them, they didn't say anything to Rob, no matter what. What few words that were uttered were just bitter jabs to each other. Frankly, Rob didn't give a shit; he liked the silence for once. To him, they were just bitter and resentful that Rob put them in their place. Looking up at the clock, Rob checked the time and awaited the moment that Householder would come bursting in. He'd be right on time.

Hearing the double doors swing open, Householder came storming on in, looking as always, ready for a fight. He did his usual inspection and griping, and the back and forth went on and on. He called Ally and Haley "honey", "toots", "babe", in a really condescending way, and berated Ben, Mercer, and Tyrone. It was more of the "same ole' crap" to Rob. Householder didn't say anything to Rob and left the kitchen. Then the college kids just grumbled about Householder's verbal assault. That was the other thing Rob was getting tired of; Householder coming on in and just bitching at everyone. It wasn't even productive bitching; it was just him being an asshole because he could. And nobody was going to say anything. It was starting to piss Rob off, hearing it every time he was in the kitchen.

---

Stowing his broom away in the utility closet, Rob called it at a day at four o'clock. He had spent the last two hours of his day sweeping the sidewalk clear of storm debris. The morning storms knocked down some tree limbs and stripped the trees around the community center of their colorful leaves. Now it was sunny and much cooler, with a brisk breeze blowing in from the north, whistling through now naked trees.

Meeting back up with Sam, they got into Rob's truck and took off for his home. It was an uneventful drive through the city as Rob returned to the southeast portion of Akron, pulling into Goodyear Boulevard. He immediately took notice of some of the damage the morning storms gave. One home had their mighty maple shed a massive branch onto the sidewalk, and a couple smaller trees on the left side of the road were toppled over, looking like broken match sticks. Pulling up to Sam's home, Rob immediately saw that his home had taken some damage. The gutter was broken and lying partially attached to the roof, which had some of its shingles blown away. In the front yard stood Isaac and Kayla, and Rob could tell they were frustrated at their home's damage.

Hopping out, Rob walked up to see them. Isaac looked upset as he messed with the damaged gutter, which partially lay broken on the ground.

"Dad, what happened?" Sam asked him.

"Well that big storm that came through!" Isaac exclaimed. "I was asleep and I suddenly wake up to water just pouring in through the ceiling!"

"This whole house is fucked." Sighed Kayla. "Oh my god...what are we doing to do?"

Rob took a look at the gutter, and stepped back to examine the roof. He could see the plywood underlayment was all dry rotted and deteriorating badly. He made some mental notes about what he needed to do to help out.

---

Feigning not feeling well, Rob got out of work at the community center to help Sam's parents. Having flown a bunch of power tools and equipment up with him, Rob committed himself to helping Isaac repair the roof.

The morning sun rose above the flaming flue towers of the refinery, as Rob worked to repair damaged sections of the roof underlayment. The air was cold as Rob saw his breath in the amber sunlight. He sat on the roof, tearing off the damaged section of underlayment. He threw it down in a big crude pile in the yard. His orange truck had its long bed completely filled to the brim with OSB board, and roofing shingles in as close of a color as he could find. New gutter sections also rested on top of the big pile.

On the ground, Isaac cut the big sheets of OSB into sections to carry up with him. The wolf showed off his skill in working with power tools as he lugged the cut pieces up for Rob. The wolf-hybrid laid them down and took his nail gun to secure it. Isaac took notice of Rob's own skill as he quickly laid down nails with the "PFFT" "PFFT" of the gun, followed by the hiss of the air compressor below.

"You're pretty good with that." Isaac complimented. "You do your own home repair?"

"I try." Rob responded. "It's just a knack my grandpa taught me."

"Ah, yeah. That's how I was." Isaac recalled. "My grandpa taught me skills that I should probably put to use!"

Rob looked up for a moment at him with a snarky kind of gaze. "You're good with power tools."

"Thanks!" Isaac laughed. "I, uhh, wanted to start my own business a few years ago. Handyman work."

"Oh yeah?" Rob responded as he repositioned himself and his tools on the roof.

"Yeah, after I lost my job. Me and a friend started a handyman business- he was really good at it. That's why I got the van. I had all these nice tools I got from my grandpa, but I couldn't stay clean for it, and I fucked some shit up being all high all the time, then my tools got stolen, and my friend overdosed and died. I miss Steve. Great guy~" Isaac explained. "Plus, people looked at me like I was some criminal because of my tats."

"You ever thought about trying it again?"

"Oh, I don't know Rob."

"You know...employment is a great thing..." Rob said with a bit more of a glare on his face. "And I'm willing to help you."

"Ya' know, why are you helping us out?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"We're just complete strangers to ya."

"You need help, and I have the capacity to help out. That's our purpose in life." Rob reasoned. "I have the money and the resources, and life had a strange way of bringing me up here, and I happened to cross paths with your son, who needed help, and that's where we are today."

"Well, I appreciate it." Isaac nodded. He let out a wet belch and snorted a bit. "Me and Kayla don't have anyone to fall back on. It fucking sucks."

"If I paid you and Kayla to get treatment...would you please do it for your son?" Rob suggested.

"Oh man...detoxing is terrifying." Isaac shuddered. "I went to jail for being drunk and high in public, and I was in the jailhouse for a few days. Oh man, I had a withdrawal so bad, it gave me a seizure! I had to go to the hospital. It was scary."

"Well, being dead is scary too." Rob pursed his lips. "Look, I'm not trying to be a fucking dickhead to you and Kayla, but you two are one of these days going to fuck up, big time."

"Probably." Isaac surprisingly agreed. "But with our lifestyle that's just the risk you have to take."

"That's not a very good answer, if you ask me." Rob shook his head. "There's help for you, and I'm willing to pay for it. Think of your son?"

"I love Sam. I want him to not be fucked up like us. I tell him that."

"Why don't you show him? You have to have the inner strength to rise up."

"Don't get addicted to heroin. That's my tip." Isaac concluded.

"Yeah, I agree." Rob rolled his eyes. He watched Isaac climb down to cut more OSB. He returned a few minutes later with another piece for Rob, who nailed it down.

Isaac lit up a cigarette and took a shovel to scrape away the damaged shingles on the roof. He took a puff and exhaled bluish acrid smoke. "I really do appreciate your kindness, Rob."

"I'm glad I got the strength back to do this."

"Oh yeah? What happened to ya?"

"Oh a propeller fell off one of my aircraft and hit me- broke a hip, both my knees. Fun stuff. Good times." Rob quipped sarcastically. "Then I caught pneumonia in July and was bedridden for over a month- now that sucked. Imagine getting constantly hit in the chest with a baseball bat- that's how it felt to breathe. I've been in the hospital quite a bit this year."

"Just be glad it ain't the 'rona." Isaac responded. "Me, Kayla, and Sam got really sick in April- don't know if it was the 'rona or not, but we were sick for quite a while."

"That's unfortunate to hear." Rob nodded in understanding. "It's been a very frustrating year for all."

"That's why we appreciate your kindness. Nobody else seems to give a shit- heh, not even my family, or Kayla's. Just you. It's as though people look at us as just mistakes."

"You're flawed, and imperfect, and so am I. I'm a fucked up person. But a little bit of kindness goes a long way, ya know?" Rob shrugged.

Looking up, Rob saw a beat up GMC K20 rumble up to the house. The big knobby tires, and mud splattered frame gave it away as some yokel truck. Two scruffy looking wolves jumped out, in trashing looking clothes.

"Oh shit, it's the McNulty's- I'll be back Rob."

"Who is that?"

"People I deal with..." Isaac hesitated. He quickly climbed down and met with them. Rob didn't need Isaac to explain to him who they were; it was clear by their behavior, that they were drug dealers of his, or vice versa. Isaac slipped from view momentarily and came out hiding something under his hoodie. He handed off a bag, got a bag in return, and a wad of cash. Isaac went back inside, while the wolves got back in their truck and turned around to leave. Rob just shook his head at the whole exchange. Isaac climbed back up to help Rob with another piece of OSB.

"Sorry about that...business... uhh... things."

"Yeah... business..." Rob glared.

"It is what it is, man."

"Apparently."

"I tell Sam all the time- be a smart kid that you are and don't be like us!" Isaac exclaimed. "I hammer that into his head. He's such a smart kid- I don't know how me and Kayla made such a smart kid when we're dumber than a brick!"

Rob didn't answer that remark.

Spending all morning and into the early afternoon to repair the roof and gutter, Rob and Isaac managed to patch the house up, though the roof was, in Rob's opinion, "structurally shot". Rob offered to have the whole roof repaired and replaced, something that Kayla thought was "well above and beyond" for Rob to do, but he insisted that he pay for it. He reiterated about paying for them to seek addiction treatment, which was met with hesitation. But Rob kept that option open for them. Finally finished with the repair work, Rob packed his tools away into his orange truck, and departed at three o'clock. He parked himself a short distance away from the community center to pick Sam up, and brought him back home, before he made the trip back to the airport, to head back to Newark.

At the airport, Rob parked his truck and offloaded his tools into a Lockheed "Speedpak". The tub shaped device was a pannier that could fit snugly beneath the belly of a short-fuselage Constellation. Rob placed his air compressor, power tools, and other odds and ends from his truck bed, into the tub, and rolled it out onto the tarmac.

Right on scheduled arrived Felix and his own Constellation, an L-749, named "Challenger". Looking almost identical to "Vanguard", the propliner chugged in on its inboard radials. Felix turned around, parked the plane, and the Speedpak was hoisted up to fit on the belly, making the plane look like a pregnant guppy. Rob climbed aboard "Challenger" and the big R-3350's were restarted. Rob departed Akron for the short hop back. He sat in a recliner in the forward fuselage and just sat there the entire time, physically drained from his work. But he felt calm from his accomplishment. It brought relief to him.

---

Armed with a pizza cutter, Rob cut up a freshly baked pizza from the oven. He worked quickly, to meet an unexpected rush of people at the center for lunch time. Rob cut up the pizza and handed it off to Mercer, who didn't say in response. Rob looked visibly irritated at him for the snub. The wolf-hybrid took two steps and braced himself on the counter, wincing in discomfort; he had tripped walking up the steps and twisted his ankle pretty good. It set his day off on the "completely wrong foot".

Limping over, Rob grabbed another pizza from the oven with his thick mittens. He placed it on the countertop, and repeated the eight swipes of the cutter to cut it up into big wedges. As he finished up, he heard the double doors slam open to Householder. Glancing up at the clock; "right on time", Rob thought to himself.

Householder came in with his usual bravado and swagger; he griped about the "speed of food prep" this time around. To the usual retorts of the college kids, who whined about being overwhelmed- which Rob agreed. They were down two people; Ally and Haley having to go and serve food because of two call-offs. Householder bitched about messes, about dishes piling up; he called Ben a "fairy" and "Nancy"; "You fags are supposed to be good at keeping shit clean!" Tyrone was next; "What the hell you doing over there boy!? There's flour everywhere! What the heck is that mess!? You fell and hit your head or something today? Don't have your babe Haley to hit on constantly!"

Rob slammed his pizza cutter down. He immediately swung around and marched over, to put himself between Householder and the others.

"Will you stop!?" Rob shouted. The whole kitchen grew dead silent. Householder looked at Rob's outburst with a mixture of shock and disgruntlement.

"Every single fucking day you come in here rearing for a fight. Every single fucking day, Dan. Just bebop your way in and berate, berate, berate. Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! Gripe! Complain! Whine and cry! Jesus fucking Christ, Householder, GIVE IT A BREAK!" Rob yelled at him. "You are accomplishing nothing but just eroding the collective morale of this facility."

"Watch yourself Rob..." Householder pointed.

"No." Rob glared back. "You point at me, but three fingers point back to you, Dan."

"You don't talk to me like that, Rob!"

"I don't fucking care! You don't talk to these guys and gals like they're just a punching bag for your fragile ego!" Rob shouted back.

Ally and Haley stepped into the kitchen and paused at the fierce argument. Rob took notice of them.

"You sit here and constantly denigrate the people who keep this community center going; and they don't do it for money, they're volunteers! They do this because it means something to them! They're passionate about helping people! You don't give a shit about these destitute people that wander in and out of here; they're just fodder for you to collect a paycheck by the city of Akron, and sit your fatass in that office all day, save for coming in here to just put people down!"

"You don't like these people so why do you care?"

"I disagree with them, and I think a lot of their political gobbledygook is silly and naïve, but you know what? If that's what they believe in? So be it. That's their right in this country- to think differently than me. They don't have to goosestep in formation like you fucking nutjobs. Their ideological beliefs have no bearing on what they do here, in this kitchen, or out there, serving food. But at least they don't come barging in here with a bunch of sexist and other disgusting epithets- Babe, toots, honey- hey Householder- the fifties called, they want that lingo back. You're almost sixty years old, talking like that to Haley and Ally. Sick. You call Ben a fag, a fairy, gee what other anti-gay shit I've heard in my life. Disgusting. And you've told me to my face that Tyrone's a nigger- gee what a surprise from a Perry County hick like yourself- a big fat loser from New Lex!"

"You called me a nigger too, Rob." Tyrone grumbled.

"Yeah, because you were acting like one- stupid." Rob glared. "You're not a nigger, and I called you out in a very unprofessional way because you called me a gook- don't sit there and cry about discrimination and throw shit yourself. Never throw stones in a glass house, Tyrone." Rob griped. He turned his attention back to Householder. "That goes for you too."

Rob cut Householder off before he could fire anything off. "These people come in here almost every day and work their fingers to the god damn bone because they believe in what they do. And I commend them for that. Yeah there's messes- why? Because we're overwhelmed and understaffed, and you don't seem to get that. You just want to whine like a little bitch!"

Householder ground his teeth at Rob. He was red faced enraged, and the rosy red was evident under his gray pelt of fur. "I could say so much about you Rob..."

"Yeah, and let er' rip, Dan. I don't give a shit about you, or what you have to say. Wouldn't be my first rodeo. Fuck, I wouldn't even give a shit hearing it from the likes of you! You're like a French fry away from a stroke!"

Dan's face was twisted with rage. He tried to come up with the words to insult Rob, but he was left exasperated by the wolf-hybrid's aggressive verbal rampage against him. He pointed at Rob, bared his teeth, but suddenly turned around and ran out of the kitchen, nearing shoving Haley and Ally over in his escape. Rob watched the pathetic sight with a blank expression on his face. The kitchen resumed its silence.

"Rob...why did you do that for us?" Mercer suddenly spoke up.

"...I thought you hated us..." Haley stated.

Rob's face softened. "...just because I disagree with you, doesn't mean I hate you." He looked around at the others. "Maybe...just maybe if we acknowledge and understand that, we as a nation wouldn't be at each other's throats over petty things."

"So I'm not a nigger." Tyrone pointed out in a snarky way to Rob.

"No." Rob shook his head. "Again, I called you that in a very unprofessional way to showcase your hypocrisy in calling me a gook. Yes, Asians like half of myself have discriminatory epithets too. But I don't give a shit regardless, personally. It is what it is. You have beliefs that I may disagree on, and I understand where you come from with them because of our nation's past. But don't throw stones in a glass house. Just a friendly reminder."

Tyrone nodded and issued a quiet "sorry" to Rob, which he accepted.

"Look I'm sorry I yelled at all of you- I...let a bad day get out of control." Rob apologized.

The kitchen doors burst open to one of the servers rushing in, an older woman. "Oh my god someone call the squad! Householder collapsed- I think he's having a heart attack!"

Everyone looked suddenly panic stricken, as Rob took the offensive. He grabbed his backpack, ripped out a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin and rushed out of the kitchen. He rounded the corner to find Householder sitting up with his back against the wall in the lobby, his face all flushed and a paw clutching his chest. He breathed very hard, through clenched teeth; he was clearly in pain.

"Okay, take two aspirin, here's some water, I'm calling for an ambulance." Rob told him in a cool and collected voice. He grabbed his phone and dialed 911 for help.

---

Clad in his protective suit, Rob knelt on the tile floor of the bathroom, cleaning the toilets, as assigned. He sprayed the dreaded cleaner he hated and wiped it around with a rag, sanitizing the porcelain as it returned to its pristine white once more. Instead of the choking, harsh fumes, Rob just smelled the scent of charcoal behind his mask, from the filter located inside the satchel on his chest. It was a quiet Friday morning at the center; there weren't that many people at the facility, and there was no Householder to hear boss people around. Rob had come to find out that Dan had a pretty serious heart attack the day before, and apparently had to be airlifted to Cleveland for emergency bypass surgery. None of it surprised the wolf-hybrid, who was reminded of his morbid quip about "being a cheeseburger away from a heart attack". Householder was just an unlikable person, an irritable, closed-minded prick- a "Perry County hick". Rob had a hard time being sympathetic.

Tossing the spent rag into a bucket, Rob got up and turned around to take notice of a woman standing in the women's bathroom doorway. A red furred lady Doberman, wore a gray suit and skirt, which went to her knees. Her hair was light brown and permed into perfect curly locks that flowed around her face and pointy, cropped ears. Rob looked a bit dumbfounded in his grayish-green suit; all she could see were his eyes, through the mask's round eye pieces. She smiled at him.

"You must be Rob~" she greeted warmly.

Rob walked over. "You probably don't want to smell those fumes. Here, let me step out."

He stepped through the door and fiddled around with undoing his hood and mask. His thick welding gloves made it harder as he yanked the mask off his face.

"How are you doing?" she greeted.

"Just busy~" Rob responded. "I don't think we've met before?"

"I'm Mindy Brandenburg, the new administrative director of the community center." She introduced herself. "I'm replacing Dan Householder, from this point on."

"I see." Rob nodded. "I'm going to assume he is not coming back on account of his heart attack."

"Well...not really just that... but also because he's wanted on a quarter-million-dollar embezzlement scheme allegation by the city of Akron, and Summit county."

Rob pursed his lips. "Well, that'll do it."

She smiled at Rob. "I was told you gave him a heart attack yesterday~" She ended the comment with a slight chuckle about it. Rob's face grew serious.

"No, but that didn't have far to go." Rob sarcastically fired back.

"Dan was a hard one to work with sometimes." Mindy assured. "I'm also told you're quite a good worker."

"I do what I can to the best of my ability."

"Good. I just wanted to meet ya, and tell you, I thank you for working here at the center, and for what you do here. Have a good day!"

Rob watched her go about her way and round the corner, slipping from view. Rob thought about the changes that would come without Householder running his mouth constantly, before he donned his gas mask to resume cleaning the bathrooms.

At the end of the day, Rob went to grab Sam and bring him home. He walked in his blue jacket and winter cap, his backpack bouncing along his back as they departed for Rob's pickup truck.

"So Mom and Dad said I could go to Newark tomorrow and see your museum and spend the day there." Sam told Rob as they walked.

"Oh good! Heh, you'll be the first visitor since March." Chuckled Rob as he held the door open for him.

"Cool~" Sam smiled. "I've always wanted to go see a museum. Never got a chance yet."

"You will not be bored." Rob assured. "I'll pick you up at eight, how does that sound?"

"Sounds good!" Sam agreed with a happy grin on his face.

---

At the crack of dawn, on a Saturday morning, Sam awoke all ready to go. The young wolf pushed the gray blanket off himself and quickly got out of bed. He neatly placed his blanket back over the bare mattress on the floor that he called a bed. His small bedroom was beat up and spartan, with a single bare bulb in the middle providing light for him. He grabbed some clothes and quickly made his way to the bathroom to get ready. Ten minutes later, he hopped out, dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, which he threw his jacket on over. He stepped out into the living room to find his parents passed out on the couch; his mom laid on her side, while his dad slept with his head cocked back, mouth agape. Liquor bottles littered the floor. A smoldering cigarette still was in his grip. Sam carefully took the cigarette from his dad and snuffed it out in the ash tray. He picked up the bottles so they wouldn't trip on them and threw them away in the trashcan, that was filled with other bottles. He put his winter cap on and grabbed a piece of paper, to write a note for them.

"Going to see Rob's museum in Newark. See you this evening! Love Sam." He wrote in his big, loopy cursive.

The kid put his shoes on, grabbed his key and rushed out the door to begin his walk over to the airport. The first rays of the morning sun just barely began to shine over the huge refinery. Sam always admired the big burning flue towers, with their constant belching of orange-yellow flames. He didn't like the smell of petroleum though. Walking through his neighborhood, it took him a good forty minutes to walk to the airport, from his house. He was three-quarters of the way there, when he started to hear that distinctive deep rumble from up in the sky. Pausing, Sam looked up to see a B-29A fly overhead, signaling Rob's arrival into Akron. A smile lit up the young boy's face as he quickened his pace to Akron-Fulton.

Situating himself at the perimeter fence, Sam excitedly watched as the very rare Superfortress come rumbling in on its inboard radial engines. It was bare metal, but had its belly painted a matte black. It's outer wings and tail were painted in a very fluorescent red-orange that really "popped". On the nose bore the name "Seoul Train". The plane was parked, and the inboard engines were powered off. Ground crew approached and chocked the wheels. Rob climbed out using a ladder through the nose wheel well. He quickly made his way over to let Sam onto the tarmac.

"Morning buddy, on this brisk day~" Rob greeted.

"It's cold outside~ Winter's coming!"

"Oh don't remind me~" chuckled Rob as they walked. "I thought I'd bring you to Newark in style."

"Oh boy!"

Rob gave Sam a full tour of his "Seoul Train" before departing. He gave the history of the old Boeing to the kid, including how his husband obtained it for him as a surprise of his life. They walked all around the outside, and inside, including Sam getting to use the tunnel that connected the forward half of the plane to the tail, over the unpressurized bomb bay. He found his spot in the cockpit, finding Rob's flight crew composed of himself, his adopted son Felix, and his friend Mark Prince, as the flight engineer. Sam got to meet the forty year old black wolf, who welcomed him a spot in the navigator's seat. With hatches sealed, the four R-3350's were turned back over, and Sam felt the plane come to life with the subtle vibration of burbling pistons and roaring propellers. Rob turned the plane around using differential thrust, and slowly taxied to the runway, where a smooth takeoff took the B-29 back into the sky. Rob leveled off at just a thousand feet, and flew the Superfortress manually with Felix.

On the flight back to Newark, Sam got sit at the bombardier's position, giving him an unprecedented view through the greenhouse type nose of the bomber. He was awed at the scenery that passed by; farmland, woodland, and small towns that dotted the Ohio landscape. The interior of the bomber had a deep rumble from the "radial song". It took half an hour to traverse the distance between Akron to Newark, where Sam saw the first outskirts of town approach into view. Rob did two circles around Newark for Sam to see, before making the approach into landing at Newark-Heath. Sam watched as the runway approached, and the plane flare for a smooth touchdown, right on the centerline. There he saw all the hangars that belonged to Rob and his aviation museum.

"Seoul Train" taxied up to the museum's main tarmac, which serviced two massive concrete type hangars. Rob's ground crew approached and chocked the plane, once the propellers stopped rotating. There, everyone began the process of disembarking from the plane. Sam followed Rob's lead, and climbed down the ladder that was attached inside the wheel well for the nose gear. He was back on terra firma, in Rob's hometown.

Sam followed Rob into his museum hangar, where the kid stopped and stared in awe. On display were dozens of rare military aircraft, in a barrage of different national markings, colors, and camouflage. It was as though the photos in the books he liked to read had come to life! A smile curled up on his face in sheer excitement, as Rob offered to give him a full tour with "all the bells and whistles".

Winding their way through the main museum hangars, Sam got to see all the planes up close. He got to touch them, got to sit in their cockpits, and hear the entire story of their military careers, including how they were recovered, restored, and got into Rob's ownership. Sam took particular interest in a few airframes; Rob's very rare Fw-190D-9, a "Langnasen-Dora", which sported a very colorful paint scheme of various greens and browns airbrushed over a mottled gray "factory camouflage", a Bf-109E-4 that sported Romanian markings, and a Hawker Hurricane owned by his friend, Vlad Tokarev. The Hurricane was gray and green camouflage, sporting Soviet VVS markings. Sam was impressed by the fact that most of the plane was fabric covered on the fuselage and tail. Rob then took him down to go see the jet warbirds, in the second hangar. There, Sam was amazed at the size of Rob's prized museum piece, two brilliantly camouflaged Su-27 Flankers. The two-seat trainers were in blue and gray camouflage of the Ukrainian Air Force, bearing the name "Savchenko I and II" for his friend Anton. He got to see Rob's extensive collection of MiG's- four MiG-17's, composed of a -17F, -17PF, Shenyang J-5, and a Polish Lim-6bis model, along with several delta-wing MiG-21's and variable-geometry winged MiG-23's. Two MiG-29's, in the colors of Iraq, and a Bulgarian two-seater, rounded out his own personal "MiG Alley".

The tour came to a close on the other side of the airport. Rob showed a few other jet warbirds that had their own hangars; a couple MiG-21 PF's sat in their own hangar, which was owned by Rob's cousin, North Korean defector, Cho Hee Lee. Another aluminum hangar housed his husband's own eclectic mix of warbirds. A FG-1D Corsair shared hangar space with a "Sabre Dog" F-86D, which had a dayglo orange nose and tail. Two other Corsairs were nestled away with their wings folded up. They belonged to Jordan Hoover and his boyfriend, Ivo Horvat, who served as Rob's flight crew. Lastly, Rob took Sam to see the "big bird" hangar, where his big propliners sat at. On the tarmac in front of the massive hangar, sat a L-1049G undergoing restoration, a plane that Rob pointed out was "Quimper", an airframe he rescued from southern France. Beside it was his polished up "Coneflower", which he mentioned was "an amalgamation of three different airframes". The cobbled up L-1049E was a composite machine composed of a L-1049E airframe and right wing, a left wing and tail from a scrapped EC-121 Warning Star, and a nose radome from a C-121J. "Coneflower" had its hydraulics serviced after another test flight found more problems that needed tweaking.

"Wow Rob, this is great!" Sam exclaimed. "I've never seen so many airplanes before!"

"If you look over here." Rob pointed as he guided Sam along. "These four L-1049H's and a single C model were once the Great Lakes Airlines Project. That has unfortunately been shut down because of the pandemic."

"Oh..." Sam frowned.

"It was an interesting attempt at flying passengers again on these old birds...but time and disease have taken their inevitable toll. Not fast enough, too noisy, and too cramped for people."

"Well that sucks." Sam quipped.

"Now I got propliners coming out the kazoo." Rob muttered with a chuckle. "But at least with me, they're safe from the scrap man. Too many of these old gems are now pop cans."

"Don't they realize their historical value, Rob?"

"Nah, they look at it as money. Cha-ching." Rob shrugged. "But that's life. Nobody appreciates things until they're gone. It happens all the time throughout history."

"Seems that way doesn't it?"

"Unfortunately~" Rob agreed. "Oh hey look who's arriving!"

Sam looked up to see Rob's lumbering Globemaster descending in for landing. The big C-124 rumbled in and touched down with smoke billowing off the tires as they made contact with the pavement. "Right on schedule from Virginia."

Taking Sam a safe distance away, the two watched as the massive Douglas transport came rumbling in. Smoke puffed from the big Wasp Major radials, slowly aiding the plane in a lumbering turn. Its brakes squeaked and squealed and the big transport came to a stop. Its nose doors opened up, and a ramp began to slowly deploy. Inside, Sam could see the nose of another plane, all strapped down on a transport trailer.

"Oh cool! Is that another Corsair?" Sam pointed.

"Yep!" Rob exclaimed. "And a new Wildcat for Joey."

"Wow!" Sam exclaimed. "How'd you get those planes?"

"Dumb luck, and a badly timed opportunity." Laughed the wolf-hybrid as he walked with Sam to see the new arrivals. "Come, let me show you~"

"Sure!"

---

As the sun retreated to the horizon, Rob returned Sam back to his home. From the airport, Rob drove his pickup truck back to Goodyear Boulevard, where he dropped Sam off.

"Well here you go~" Rob said as he put the truck into park. "Before you go..."

Rob reached back to grab a small box from the backseat. "I got a lil' gift for ya."

"Oh?" Smiled the kid.

"Since you had so much fun practicing shooting with my old Nikon F4... I thought you might like this~"

Sam accepted the box from Rob and opened it up, to reveal a vintage Nikon F4. It had an autowinder motor pack, and a 50mm "portrait lens" attached. There was a telephoto lens also inside the box, neatly packaged. Sam's face lit up in amazement. "This is for me?"

"Yep!" Rob smiled. "That was my spare F4. I thought I lost my original one years ago, so I got that one at a yard sale. But I have my original F4, so you can have that. Since you really did a good job learning how to shoot on film~"

"And I got pictures to show my parents!" grinned the wolf.

"Indeed! It was a fun shoot today. I really appreciated it." Rob happily admitted.

"Have a safe flight home Rob! Thanks so much! Bye! Bye!" Sam waved as he hopped out. Rob smiled and waved, and waited for Sam to go back inside, before he departed. He then turned around and drove on back to the airport.

Inside, Sam excitedly showed his exhausted looking parents what he did during the day. He had a big folder full of printed pictures, showcasing his day. His parents sat at their dinner table, smoking, and looking at the pictures as he told them about his day with Rob down in Newark. He had dozens of photos of some of Rob's aircraft, including photos of himself sitting in the cockpit of a few planes, like the rare Fw-190D. Sam also told his parents of getting to watch planes be restored, and new planes arriving at the airport.

"It looks like you had a lot of fun, Sammy." Isaac muttered as he looked at a photo Sam had taken in the air, over downtown Newark. He got to fly board a Cavalier Mustang, which had part of its left wing and wingtip tank in the photo that captured the courthouse.

"You should be very appreciative of Rob being so kind to you." Kayla added as she got ready for work. "I think we all should."

"I am~" smiled Sam.

"Well, I gotta head out of here." Kayla said as she gave Sam a hug goodbye. "I'll see you all tonight."

"Bye, Mom!" Sam waved as she quickly departed.

Isaac got up and went to fetch another beer bottle from the fridge. He plopped down on the couch to watch TV and take a few random pills he had sitting on his coffee table. Sam watched his Dad drift in and out of a trance like state as he drank his beer and watched TV. The wolf went back to his bedroom to go through his favorite photos, and tape them up on his spartan, dingy walls. There, he just laid in bed and admired them.

On his flight home, Rob flew in the last light of day. The sun had slipped beneath the horizon, and the last light turned the sky into shades of orange and purple, silhouetting the two-seater TP-40N. Rob flew with the canopy open, feeling the slipstream blast through as he flew southwest towards Newark. He felt calm and accomplished, feeling happy that he made that kid's day by being at the museum. It brought a smile to his weathered, tired looking face, as he flew his nephew's future plane back home for the night.

---

"Whacha think?"

Following Maverick, Rob walked up the steps to what was once an old farm house. On the second floor, Rob was greeted to a radically altered floor layout, which would serve as his and Maverick's office suite for United Barev. Rob had last remembered the home up north in Delaware a year ago, doomed for demolition as part of a road widening project in the city. The old brick home was decaying, with a dilapidated interior of decaying stucco walls and rotting floors. He had paid a company to completely dismantle the home, brick by brick, and reassemble it in the property of the former Newark High School building, which was slated to become the new headquarters of United Barev Industries, and Viking Recording Studios, with his friend Varg Eikemo. The decaying upstairs was now opened up, with a floor made of beautifully polished teak planks. The stairs terminated at a small lobby area, where the rest of the upstairs was divvied up to Rob and Maverick's office, both connected to a small conference area. The original bathroom was restored, and a small cylindrical elevator added, complete with glass accents and wood paneling.

Rob opened the frosted glass door to what would become his office, and walked over to the big bay window that oversaw the property. The room felt spacious and large to him. Peering out the window, to his right was the giant brick building that was once Newark High School. Due to several major bureaucratic setbacks, the building wasn't fully finished in its transformation from school, to office facility and studio for Barev. Workmen in hardhats walked about, as the sounds of saws, drills, pierced the cold October calm. Rob could watch snow flurry sputter from the low, milk gray sky above. Maverick stood opposite of the window and observed with Rob.

"This whole place Mav is just pissing away money we don't got." Rob shook his head with a jaded tone.

"It's the bureaucratic fuckups that keep popping up. Like the city utility hookup upgrade- that cost us a week."

"Yep, and that's just money circlin' the drain." Rob grumbled.

"It's been a very rough year for us." Mav nodded. "I... didn't expect this year to get this bad."

"Always expect the worst." Rob quipped. "It'll take years for us to bounce back."

"I don't think so, Rob. We've hemmed up a good portion of the fiscal hemorrhaging. Now we just have to wait for the economy to-"

"The economy is going to remain anemic for some time, because of this pandemic interrupting business, commerce, yada-yada. And people not fucking caring." Rob griped. "How many people have to die, how much money has to be wasted because people want to play politics over a pathogen?"

"I know Rob, I know."

"It's fucking bullshit."

"I know- I mean, look at the people who say this doesn't exist? It's a bunch of dumb yokels and Trumpsky folk."

"Toadies." Rob pointed. "The blind leading the blind."

Rob placed his left paw on the window sill to brace himself. "I weep for this nation."Maverick nodded in agreement.

"...I weep for this company."

"I'm working on some side projects with the broadcasting part to bring in some extra revenue- I mean, anything helps right? It's just...everything going on is making things so complicated." Maverick explained. He watched Rob nod in response, but then just silence for a time. The two stood watching the snow flurries dance in the cold wind outside the window, reflecting on things. After a few minutes, Rob broke his silence.

"Lemme ask you Mav-O- how did you succeed in increasing productivity and morale at Barev when you took over?" Rob asked him.

The tall Russian husky seemed puzzled. "Well... hmmm. I don't really know how to answer that?"

"When I left in January, and despite the pandemic taking off, I saw in the data charts that productivity, efficiency, and monetary aspects all went up under your tenure. It only started to fluctuate as the pandemic got worse and then the stupid nuke accident." Rob explained. "How'd you pull that off?"

"Again, Rob, I don't really know? I mean... okay... well... When I took over, I told myself that micromanaging was out of the question, especially as I'm not as well versed as some of the engineers! So I told people to do the best they could, and that's basically it. I encouraged people to do use their smarts, and common sense. I didn't belittle people- well- outside of Narovec, but, eh, fuck 'em. I also tried to learn and understand the various departments I wasn't familiar with, like the aviation stuff, cargo logistics, maintenance for those big piston engines. I wasn't going to be a prick about it."

Rob thought about it and nodded, slowly. "Mav, I want you to take over employee relations and the operations pertaining to Barev's manufacturing capacity."

"You want me to permanently take that over?"

"Yeah."

"But you're the headman, Rob."

"I know, and I'm delegating to you, that job, because you have a better temperament than me for handling employees. I trust you, Mav. You've done a good job."

"Apparently not good enough."

Rob swiped his paw in disregard. "Nonsense."

"Okay, Rob, if you want me to. I will!" the Russian husky smiled.

"I need you Mav-O. That's why you're my business partner, and best friend."

"That's what friends are for." Maverick smiled as he patted Rob on the shoulder.

Continuing on with their tour of the construction site, they used the new elevator, which gave a unique view from its glass door as it traversed down to the first floor. The first floor was opened up somewhat; it served as a secretarial area for Tabby and Charles, and the rear section the graphics and publication area for Dmitry and Nico. The farm house was extra space to free up for the studio, as Rob had found the original plans too cramped for BVS operations.

Stepping outside, the two stood and gazed at the old brick structure. It was roughly rectangular, with a couple octagonal protrusions where the big bay windows were. The roof was made of red metal sheeting. Landscapers from both "Rocha Landscaping" and "Filton's Finest Landscaping Company" worked to quickly get the landscaping and trees planted around the old building.

"One day at a time Rob!" Maverick assured.

"Yep. That's all I can do at the rate we're going."

---

Dragging his drogue 'chute behind his MiG, Rob came whistling in on the tarmac in his delta-wing Fishbed. Bare metal on the lower half, with a mottled two toned green upper half, "Red 5015" was Rob's favorite Fishbed, a 1967 built MiG-21PFM. Ground crew watched as Rob turned and parked in front of his hangar, his turbojet almost immediately powering down. As the jet spooled down, the wheels were chocked and Rob opened up the side opening canopy. The ladder he provided to the airport was set up, and he quickly climbed down. He propped it up to the wing area and climbed back up so he could retrieve his backpack from the ammo storage compartment, which now served as a makeshift baggage zone for him. Rob took a momentary glance at his Soviet jet, and turned to see Sam standing at the fence. As he walked over and took his helmet off, he noticed that Sam didn't seem excited at seeing him or his jet. He looked rather upset and sad. Rob grew concerned at that.

"Morning Sam... uhh...everything alright?"

"No." the kid responded in a sad, low voice.

"What's wrong?" Rob asked him as he opened the fence gate up to let him on the airport property.

Sam took a couple deep breaths and looked down at the ground as he walked with Rob. "My laptop got stolen yesterday..."

Rob paused. "Your laptop...got stolen..."

"Clyde McNulty came over to buy stuff off Dad, and apparently when nobody was looking, he took my laptop!" Sam exclaimed. "He stole it from me!"

Rob's face grew irate looking. His eyes squinted up, and his lips grew tighter at the news. That was a two thousand dollar laptop he had purchased for the kid, to help him with school. Now it was in the paws of some druggie.

"Come on Sam. We're gonna have a talk with your parents." Rob said as calmly as he could muster the words out. They got into his truck and peeled out from the airport, leaving his MiG to be gently pushed back into the hangar.

Rob rushed over to Goodyear Boulevard, where he quickly parked out front and got out. He followed Sam back inside, where Rob glared at the sight of a passed out Isaac sitting on the couch in just his underwear. There were three beer cans lying at his feet, and Kayla too was passed out on the couch, a weed bong lying on the ground. All that, and the side table with bags of various pills, and even a few bags of meth, made Rob grind his teeth more. He slammed his foot on the ground, and that woke Isaac up.

"Oh shit!" the wolf muttered. His shocked eyes looked at Rob, who glared at him.

"Oh Rob... what time is it... man I..."

"It's time to talk." Rob grumbled. "I want to talk to you as to why Sam's laptop got stolen."

"Oh my god yeah... yesterday Clyde, one of my buddies...well...sorta... he came over wanting to buy my some of my weed that I grow...heh...heh...ya know Rob? My side hustle!" Isaac tried to explain. He was clearly intoxicated, and baked out of his mind; his eyes were bloodshot, and he slurred and swallowed his words. He took steps and stumbled on a beer can; Rob caught him and threw him back on the couch. It stirred Kayla awake.

"Look lemme explain Rob!" Isaac awkwardly stated. "Clyde took the fucking laptop, and I was fucking pissed too! Sam was balling and crying about it- so I went over there when he wasn't around. I broke in and tried to search for the motherfucker, but I couldn't find it! So I just stole all his pills and meth! Hehehehehe.... I'mma go and sell that shit and use that money to buy Sam a nice ole laptop!"

"Over my dead body..." Rob pointed. "Two wrongs don't make a right. Jesus fucking Christ, Isaac."

"What'd you want me to do!?"

"Oh I don't know- be a fucking responsible adult!" Rob yelled.

"Isaac, I told you not to bring Clyde over! Remember the last time~" Kayla snapped.

"I know, I know, don't fucking remind me!" Isaac shouted to his girlfriend.

"Is this the kind of life you two want to keep living? Shit getting stolen, always fucked up on drugs and alcohol? What about your kid?" Rob pointed at Sam, who hid somewhat behind Rob. "You two are setting your son up for failure- is that what you want?"

"No, I don't want Sam to fail." Kayla exclaimed.

"Then why does this keep happening? You're endangering his life and-"

Rob paused mid-sentence when he heard the sound of screeching brakes. He looked out the cracked living room window to see a big Ford Excursion stopped in the middle of the road, with a bunch of people jumping out. Rob caught glimpse of a shotgun being manhandled. His eyes counted five men, two women.

"Oh fuck!" Isaac yelled. "It's the McNulty's!"

"Shit!" Kayla screamed. Her face immediately looked at Sam.

Rob's survival instincts immediately kicked in. "Sam! Get to your room, lock the door and get under the damn bed!"

Sam immediately ran to his bedroom as fast as he could, as Rob yelled for everyone to get down. He yanked out his suppressed Glock 20 from its holster, and immediately ran for the front door, just as a shotgun blast blew out the living room window. Rob made it to the front door, only to watch it suddenly explode open from a mighty kick. Rob dodged the door and grabbed for the shotgun, which was wielded by a fierce looking wolf. Rob struggled one handed against the wolf's might; out of the corner of his eye, he saw a gray wolf wielding a Mac-10, complete with its huge silencer. Rob shoved the wolf into the door and fired his Glock at him. A 10mm round struck the wolf in the shoulder, just as he fired. The energy whipped him around, and a spray of bullets struck the house. Rob tried to shove himself away, but was too late; three 9mm rounds tore through his right arm. A spray of bullets also struck the brown wolf Rob was struggling against, one in the head. The head wound showered Rob in blood as he immediately went limp. Rob almost dropped his Glock from the sheer white-hot pain. He let out a tremendous yell, just as the back door was kicked in. Kayla screamed and ran for the bedroom with Isaac, as Rob heard a shotgun blast go off. The television exploded from a hail of pellets tearing through it and the couch.

Blood dripping down his arm, Rob commandeered the shotgun, an Ithaca 37, with no rifle butt, and black furniture. He threw himself on the floor to lower his profile and slam-fired the gun, at the first gunmen he saw. The recoil was violent, the barrel shot flames and sparks, as Rob put a slug through a wolf's chest, with an explosively bloody result. He dropped him immediately. The slugs tore big holes through the wall as Rob fired at the others blindly, to hold their heads down.

"OH FUCK CLYDE!" screamed someone. "I DIDN'T REALIZE ISAAC HAD BACKUP!"

Rob ran past the opening from the living room to the dining room, firing his Glock somewhat blindly and striking another gunmen with a 10mm. The energy of lead whipped his head back and showered the wall in blood as he fell. Clyde himself saw just a glimmer of Rob, and immediately recognized the scar on his face.

"OH NO IT'S ROB BARION!" screamed Clyde.

"That motherfucker killed Abramovich!" screamed a woman. "LET'S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"

Rob quickly reloaded and fired around the corner, grazing Clyde in the side, and hitting the woman in her hip. The wolfess fell from the impact of Rob's bullet, and Clyde gripped his bloody side as he dropped his gun and ran. The woman limped after him as they retreated through the back door. Rob ran forward and grabbed another shotgun from the dead gunman lying on the floor. It was a classic Mossberg 500. Rob ran for the living room window and fired at the retreating McNulty's, who were climbing into the Excursion. Rob opened fire with the shotgun, and struck the Excursion multiple times; he blew out two windows and struck Clyde with a hail of pellets, which dropped him. He was quickly grabbed and pulled into the Excursion as it peeled out. A flat tire flopped on the pavement as they escaped away. As quickly as the fight unfolded, it was suddenly over. There was silence again.

Rob stood with a smoking Mossberg, clutching it in his bloody paw. His whole arm was soaked red in blood. His flight uniform was destroyed. He breathed heavily, his adrenaline surging. The living room was destroyed, the television sparked and smoked. Dead bodies lay where they fell. The floor was stained red in pools of oxidizing blood.

"It's over!" Rob shouted. "It's over!"

Isaac ran out and was shocked at seeing Rob wounded.

"Oh my god Rob, he shot you!" Isaac exclaimed. He ran over to check over Rob's wound, only to suddenly be hit across the face by the 12 gauge. Isaac was spun like a top and landed on the ground with a thud. He immediately grabbed his face in immense pain from Rob's blow. Rob towered over him, his face twisted in rage at the chubby wolf, who cowered below him.

"Oh my god Rob!" Kayla cried out. She ran over to try and help Rob, and assess his wounds. He had been shot three times in his right arm; two in his bicep, and one through the forearm. The gray furred wolfess was exasperated; she was overwhelmed by the sight of Rob being wounded, and the dead bodies and mess everywhere. She ultimately broke down in tears.

"Rob!" shouted Sam.

"Get back in there Sam! Don't come out! Don't come out!" Rob shouted.

"Stay in there son! You don't want to see this! Don't come out!"

Sam retreated back to his bedroom as Rob looked around at the carnage.

"Isaac, grab a trash bag."

"Why?"

"We gotta hide the drugs." Rob announced. "Before the cops show up! Hurry!"

"Come on!" Kayla pleaded. "Do you want to go back to jail?"

Isaac quickly got up and realized what he had to do. "No! That's thousands of dollars."

"GRAB A BAG." Rob shouted in his face. "Everything has to go!"

"No! Not my weed plants and- ALRIGHT FINE! FINE!" screamed Isaac as Rob pointed his gun at him.

Despite his grievous arm wounds, Rob worked to grab the bags of drugs and his paraphernalia off the side table on the couch. Kayla frantically worked with him and Isaac, as they began a great effort to hide the evidence.

---

At Akron City Hospital, FBI agents poured into the emergency room. Agent Dove walked with his Cleveland counterpart, Ron Clark, a black and rust Doberman, and two of his Cleveland colleagues. Dove looked serious as he quickly made his way through the ER; he had been notified of a shooting earlier in the day by one of the people under his supervision, and drove as fast as he could from Cincinnati, to Akron, to confront Rob. The gray wolf did not look happy as he prepared himself for the confrontation with Rob.

Rounding the corner, Dove stepped into Rob's room in the ER; he was being tended to by a nurse, while getting multiple blood transfusions. His right arm was all bandaged up. Rob looked at Dove, and immediately just rolled his eyes at the "g-man's" presence. Dove flashed his badge and motioned for the nurse to momentarily step out.

"This won't take long." Dove assured. The nurse stepped out, and Dove slid the glass door shut. "Rob!" he shouted. "Why am I hearing about a shooting? Three men killed? Four wounded? A home invasion? I sent you up here for community service, not vigilante justice in judge, jury, and executioner!"

"Read the police report, here." Rob pointed. He reached over and picked up a legal pad, which had his handwriting on it. Dove snatched it from his grip and took a moment to glance through Rob's report for the Akron police.

"...only you could find yourself in the midst of a shootout with drug dealers." Dove shook his head. "Rob, does that ever just amaze you- the level of destruction that you're capable of?"

"Moral of the story is, don't break into the house I'm visiting." Rob rolled his eyes. "I feared for my life, and their life."

"You feared..." Dove gave a sarcastic gaze.

"Hey, that seems to work well for cops and George Zimmerman, so I thought I'd try it too~" Rob shrugged.

Dove looked exasperated and looked away momentarily. "I send you up here to fix a wrong-"

"Whoa, whoa there, you were just as complicit with last year's raid, so why the fuck are you acting like-"

"I sent you up here for community service to avoid prison time! Not vigilantism!" Dove shouted. "You're making me look bad!"

"I don't care?"

Dove paused and just chuckled in a very cynical way. "You're unbelievable Rob... Jesus Christ..."

"I am who I am."

Dove reread Rob's statement to the Akron Police. It calmed him down slowly. He sat it back down on the small side table and turned to look at Rob again.

"You just waltzed into that like John Wayne didn't ya?" Dove sarcastically questioned.

"More like they came to me." Rob winced as he tried to shrug. "It's bullshit, I know. But I had to do what I had to do. Not like anyone gives a shit about criminals anyways."

Dove just rolled his eyes.

---

Glass crinkled beneath Kayla's shoes as she examined the ruined mess of her already dilapidated home. She had to wipe tears out of her eyes at all the dried and oxidized blood that stained the carpets and dingy walls. There were bullet holes everywhere, and she picked up a shattered portrait of herself, Isaac, and Sam that had adorned the dining room wall. It made her cry more.

Isaac stood in his dimly lit living room, looking awkwardly glum, in the presence of Rob, who stood, casually jotting notes on a notepad, as if he had never been shot in his right arm three times. Sam stood by his Dad, his paws in his pockets and looking down at the floor with a sad expression. Rob was jotting down what needed to be replaced and repaired for their home.

"Rob...I'm sorry that you got shot today over me." Isaac awkwardly spoke up. Rob didn't even look up from what he was writing down.

"Those bullets were meant for you."

"I know."

"But it's no big deal- it's not my first rodeo in getting shot. I've been hurt even worse." Rob quipped nonchalantly. "Just a nine mil."

"You say that so calmly..."

"Yep, because it's another been there, done that, kind of a fuckup I get stuck in to unfuck!" Rob shouted. He looked up from his notepad to glare at Isaac.

"I umm...appreciate your kindness..." Isaac awkwardly smiled.

"One of these days you or Kayla, or both of you, are going to fuck up big time, and it's going to get yourself- hell maybe even Sam, all killed." Rob bluntly griped. "You're gonna overdose, or you're gonna get shot dealing with scrum like this. Drug dealers don't give a shit about you, or the kid. They'll bury you in a wooded area and pretend like you never existed."

Isaac gulped. Rob turned and walked down the hallway, flexing his wounded arm from a stab of pain as he went into Isaac and Kayla's bedroom. He fumbled his brow in disgust and took more notes of a broken window, and a bullet graze to the closet door. Isaac stepped in and looked at his now empty closet, where he once grew a couple marijuana plants at.

"My beautiful potted pot~ Oh how much money I had to lose over-"

"You done?" Rob glared.

"...sorry."

"If they caught you with those plants? The drugs? Or whatever else the fuck vice you're into? You'd be sitting your dumbass in prison, for a long time. You and her. And your kid would be a ward of the state." Rob hissed. "You should be very thankful that I got rid of that shit before the cops came, and before we went to the ER...before I passed out..."

"I'm glad that I carried you into the ER over my shoulder~" Isaac grimaced.

"One of these days..." Rob pointed. "That's going to be you. One way or another, Isaac."

"Yeah..." the wolf reluctantly agreed.

"One of these days." Rob shook his head as he left the room, leaving Isaac to stare at his broken window with a long look of thought.

Rob closed up his little notepad and capped his pen, as he saw Kayla in the dining room, dabbing her bloodshot eyes with a tissue.

"Alright, I'll see about getting all this repaired for you." Rob announced to the wolfess.

"All this blood...all this carnage... oh my god..." Kayla quietly said to Rob. "This house is even more ruined."

"We're going to fix that." Rob assured. "But this needs to be a wakeup call."

"Yes, I know." Kayla nodded in an exasperated way. "There's been several...and we keep fucking it up."

Rob caught Kayla as she stumbled forward in a breakdown of more tears. "Only you can make that decision. You and Isaac. And you two only. I'm willing to pay for treatment- I'll willing to do anything to help you two and Sam- especially the boy. Because his life's in danger of failing, at the rate things are going here. And I know it, you two know it...and we have to make a move, like now. Or else you're going to be just another statistic. A footnote on the evening news."

It was raining when Rob left their home. Joey returned from the airport to go pick Rob and his orange truck up, to bring back to the airport, for the flight home. Cold raindrops fell from a darkened nighttime sky, which landed on the windshield, scattering the glow of lights down the road. Rob sat in the passenger seat, clutching his sore, wounded arm that was all bandaged up.

"I'm a damn fool, Joey." Rob griped at himself. "A fucking damn fool for what I'm doing."

"If you weren't there Rob, they'd probably all be dead." Joey responded. "You're not a fool."

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I'm pouring money into these people, and I don't think they really get it? Or that they really give a shit? They're so fucked up on drugs... pills... alcohol... it's pathetic really. Those two are ruining that kid's life just a little bit more every time shit like this happens. I feel so sorry for him- I fear for him. And I'm starting to feel like I don't really know what else to do to help without being more drastic?"

"One day at a time, Rob~" Joey responded with a smile on his face.

"How can people be like this Joey?"

"Heh, look at my very own brother~" the Doberman shrugged with a jaded chuckle. "Some people only care about themselves, and some people fall victim to the pitfall that vices are, and don't realize it until it's too late. I mean, look at my very own life. I was getting stressed as a stripper all those years ago, and I started doing drugs, and the next thing I know, I woke up in a hospital bed after overdosing and nearly dying. Aged twenty-two, Rob. I didn't realize how bad it was getting, how dependent I was getting on heroin and ecstasy, until I woke up at Riverside. That's when I knew I hit rock bottom."

Rob nodded slowly. "I just feel... powerless. But I have to do something. For that kid's sake. If I didn't help Sam, I'd...I'd probably wouldn't forgive myself if something happened."

"You can't save the whole world, Rob." Joey reminded him.

"I know."

"There's millions of other kids just like Sam, slipping through the cracks each day."

"Sadly."

Joey pulled into Akron-Fulton and drove through the gate. On the tarmac awaited "Vanguard", its four radial engines idling. The glaring landing lights peered through the downpour, revealing the torrential of rain in the cone of light. Joey parked the truck in the hangar and got out with Rob, who zipped up his jacket. Joey put his paw around his lover and held him close as they walked through the pouring rain. At the rear of the plane was the fold-down ladder to board, with Alvin standing in the hatch, calling for them. As they walked, the rain made both of them soaking wet; Rob's usually coiffed hair clung to his face like a wet mop. He ran a paw through his wet locks to fix it. As he approached the ladder, he had just put a foot on it when he noticed headlights at the perimeter gate, and a horn honking. Soon Rob saw Isaac and Kayla running up to the fence, waving for him. "Now what?" Rob thought out loud as he turned and walked towards them. Joey motioned for his nephew to wait.

Getting more and more soaked, Rob walked over to the fence, to find Isaac and Kayla just as soaking wet as he was. Their faces looked strained with emotion; as if they had a long discussion about things. Rob also noticed Sam running up, in his yellow raincoat, clutching an envelope in his paws.

"Rob, please help us..." Isaac pleaded. "You said you'd pay for treatment...please help us..."

"We can't keep doing this." Kayla exclaimed. "We can't! We need your help!"

"Alright." Rob nodded. "I'll accept that. But please understand that I can only help you so much- the rest you have to have the willpower for. If you truly want to turn your lives around, you have to find that motivation deep inside you. I can lead you in the right direction, but I can't make you commit to it, you understand?"

"Totally..." Isaac nodded.

"I have to go away for a bit- to recuperate...but I'll see you folks next week." Rob said in a tired tone. "Sam, I'm sorry that I won't be able to take you to and from the community center for the week... and I'm sorry about the laptop, I'll get that replaced for ya."

Rob reached into his pocket to grab his wallet, and hand a few hundred dollars to help Isaac and Kayla out. Isaac looked appreciative of Rob's kindness, despite the entire chaos of the day. Sam handed Rob the envelope.

"I want you to have this." The young wolf smiled.

"Oh thank you~" Rob smiled back. "Thank you very much!"

"Hope you feel better when I see you again."

"I'll be like new again~ Trust me." Rob assured as he turned to walk back towards his plane.

Despite the pouring rain, Isaac, Kayla, and Sam stood at the fence and watched Rob and his entourage depart in the L-749. The Constellation turned around and soon took to the air. Its deep, throaty roar of four radial engines pierced the night as the trio watched the plane lift off, only to disappear into the low clouds a few seconds later. Its throaty roar faded away shortly afterwards. Sam watched in awe with his parents surrounding him. They felt hopeful.

Aboard "Vanguard", Rob felt the turbulence rattle the plane, as he braced himself in the bathroom, trying to dry himself off. He dabbed a towel to his damp hair, and ran a paw through it to fix his tousled locks. He placed the towel around his shoulder and stepped out into his personal quarters. The tail of the plane was dim, with just the soft glow from his table lamp that was bolted down. On his desk sat the envelope from Sam. Rob walked over and sat down to gently open it, as it was still slightly damp. Pulling out a piece of notebook paper, Rob unfolded it to see a drawing Sam made, depicting Sam, his parents, and Rob, standing in front of their house. Below it read "Get well soon! Love, Sam and Mom and Dad!" in his nascent cursive. It brought a much needed smile to Rob's tired face. He felt appreciated.

---

November came in with a cold spell. The first fell on a Sunday, and an icy wind blew from the north, dropping temperatures into the low forties. The trees that were once lush with color were now bare, the forest floor adorned in their now faded color. Everything was looking more and more like winter, and it was increasingly feeling like it.

Gravel crunched beneath Rob's shoes as he walked along the trail at Dawe's Arboretum. He watched Sam run ahead of him, armed with his Nikon F4, searching for interesting things to photograph. The young wolf was visiting Rob for a quiet Sunday outing to do some photography together. The gravel trail wrapped around through the woods, leading to an old log cabin where maple syrup was made in the spring. It had a small spring house, and a little creek, that gently flowed. Sam ran up to a weathered splint fence and aimed his camera at the spring house, which was made of stone, and had a roof covered in moss and lichen. A "click" of the shutter, followed by the whirr of the film winding marked his snapshot. He knelt down, adjusted his lens and checked his exposure over, to take a photograph of the log cabin, complete with its bonfire area and walking trail in the shot.

"I love this camera!" Sam exclaimed to Rob as he ran over to the wolf-hybrid, to was knelt down to photograph from browned and dried out flowers that caught the light from a ray of sunshine.

"It's the camera quality, and the quality of the film inside it!" Rob added. "The Ektar is a nice film for outdoor shots. I use it a lot for nature photography, sometimes Velvia, when I'm shooting flowers."

"What's Velvia?"

"That's a really highly saturated film. It's great for sunsets, flowers, stuff you really want to be bright and saturated, almost surreal in color." Explained Rob. "It's not good for portraits! I don't recommend it for portraits~ Another good film I like- it's slide film- Ektachrome. Really nice stuff."

"We'll have to try it sometime~"

"I do have a couple rolls of Ektachrome, and a buddy who can develop E-6, so we'll try it out~" smiled Rob.

"Okay!" Sam grinned in excitement.

Rob walked with the young wolf through the arboretum, taking pictures and having a good time together. It felt nice to be out, despite the cold breeze that whistled through naked branches. It had been almost a week since Rob had been wounded in the arm multiple times by gunfire. He had spent time away from the community center and his obligations, which only meant that he would be there longer, now well into December. But it was a concession he had to accept to recuperate. Thankfully, the three gunshots were just flesh wounds. But now once again, he would have the scars of another battle, to showcase on his body.

In his week off, he worked tirelessly to try and get Isaac and Kayla into an addiction treatment center up in Akron. He called around, but found that all the centers were either booked up, or restricted, on account of the pandemic. There was an Akron home that had two openings coming up, but it would be a week and a half wait before they could accept them to begin treatment and therapy. Rob felt frustrated by the wait, because what little information he got trickling back from Akron, seemed to offer no good news. Instead of the cornucopia of drugs that they would casually take, Sam's parents turned to alcohol, to numb the pain of withdrawing from their usual fix. Sam mentioned about them drinking and smoking a lot more, and him having to pick up more and more bottles off the floor. Rob felt that time was of the essence. They were replacing one vice for another.

Sam sat on an old, weathered tree stump, that had turned gray with age. He rewound his roll of film, and when it was finished, opened the back of the camera up to retrieve it and place it back into its plastic canister.

"Rob, I found a book at the library about drugs and addiction." Sam spoke up, as he worked to load a roll of Ektachrome into his Nikon. "I never really understood what Mom and Dad did, until I read about it."

"I'm trying to help them." Rob nodded. "Addiction is a terrible thing."

"Why would my parents do this?" Sam asked Rob. "The photos in the book... scary stuff."

Rob had to think of a proper answer for Sam; he thought of a sarcastic remark about "weak minded people and scumbags", but that was mean and cruel. "Sometimes people fall on hard times, and they get wrapped up in the wrong people, and give in to temptation. Addiction is one of those things that creep up on you, and you don't realize that you have a problem, until it's too late. You think you have things under control, and then you hit rock bottom."

"I read it and was scared for Mom and Dad. Because some of the photos, look exactly like them..." Sam frowned.

"Your parents are in a very rough position- your mom is very young, and your dad came from a less than fortunate background. These are just red flags to the vulnerability to falling into drug dependency to cope. It doesn't make your parents bad people- they're just lost in a sense... and I'm trying to guide them back on the right track. Addiction doesn't just hurt them- it hurts their loved ones as well."

"You went through bad times, Rob? Why didn't you become like my parents?" Sam asked him.

"Heh, well, that's because Rob solves his problems by being stoic and bottling everything up, and dealing with problems with ruthless resolve~" Rob mockingly quipped about himself. "I also have a high pain tolerance it seems."

"Ah." Sam responded.

"I don't recommend doing my approach though." Rob chuckled. As Sam got up, they continued on their walk. Rob put an arm around Sam's shoulder as they walked down the trail. "In a week or so, your parents are going to go into therapy, and you'll be in safe paws with me and Joey for the time being while your parents get taken care of. I have faith this recovery house will take care of them, and give them the resources they need."

"What do you think they're going to do to Mom and Dad?"

"Well...to start... detoxing- and that's not fun. I've heard horror stories. There's a lot of counseling, group sessions, therapy. It's a multi-step process that has to be tailored for each person." Rob explained.

"Oh!" Sam smiled.

"The key to therapy, is the willpower of the person going through it. Now people can recommend, they can help, they can frankly do whatever, but the person who needs the treatment has to be willing to commit to it. It's like the saying 'you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink' kind of deal."

"Ahh~" Sam nodded. "That makes sense!"

Rob smiled and gave Sam an encouraging nudge against him as they walked. "I have faith, Sam."

Following their photographing stroll through Dawes, Rob took Sam to his friend's photography shop, where they got their rolls of film developed by Xan Radabaugh himself. They marveled at their photos and talked a lot about the "film look" with Xan and Sergei Tokarev. Rob then bought more rolls of Ektachrome for Sam, to take back with him to Akron. After dinner with Rob's family, the wolf-hybrid flew Sam back home aboard his A-1G Skyraider.

Pulling up in front of the house, Rob got out and walked with Sam back to his home. It was snow flurrying in town, and the air was much colder than what was down in Newark. Rob stepped inside to find Isaac and Kayla passed out drunk on the couch. It was a pathetic sight that made Rob purse his lips and bite his tongue. He watched Sam scurry around and pick up bottles to throw away. There were beer bottles galore, an empty whisky bottle, and a spilled bottle of vodka with a big puddle on the floor that Sam tried to dab up with paper towels. The young kid labored to clean up the messes that his parents made. That bothered Rob, so he went over to help him out. Rob assured Sam that he would help his parents, no matter the cost.

"Alrighty buddy, I have to head out for the night."

"Thanks for all the fun and letting me come down to Newark!" Sam smiled. "I loved today's photos!"

"I did too!" Rob said with some enthusiasm to his tone. "I'll see you Tuesday morning, Sam."

"Will do, Rob!"

"Have a good night!"

"Same for ya!"

Rob left the home and got back into his truck to turn around for the airport. He left feeling happy, and flew on home, back to Newark.

---

Tuesday morning was frosty and cold, with the sun low on the eastern horizon. Shadows were cast long on the pavement as Rob adjusted his leather flying helmet. His boots clomped against the oil soaked pavement, as he made his way to his idling Helldiver, which was being tended to by his mechanic Vlado. The burly Croatian wolf had a busy morning, as he finished up preparing the SB2C-5.

"Morning Rob!" he greeted warmly. "You're already for your short hop to Akron."

"Thank you!" Rob said with appreciation. The wolf-hybrid had his paws full, as he juggled around his backpack, and protective case with his chemical suit and mask.

"Toilet duty again?"

"Unfortunately~" Rob chuckled. "Same shit, different day~"

"Ha, I see what you did there." Vlado chuckled. "Have a safe flight!"

"Appreciated!" Rob waved off. He slid the rear gunner's canopy open and tossed his belongings in the compartment, and slid the canopy shut. As he walked under the right wing to check the radar pod, he always stopped to peer up into the wheel well, where his grandfather had signed the plane with his cousin, Mitch O'Donnell.

"Thank you Rob!" Gordo had written in 2013. "Love, R. Gordon Barion 'Grandpa'".

"To Rob, thanks for keeping the memories alive. -Mitch O'Donnell."

Rob would always remember the excitement on their faces, when they saw the SB2C-5 in the markings of their former dive bomber for the very first time. Gordo had even remarked that if he "wasn't such an old fart", he'd try and fly it again. Both of them had sadly since passed away; Mitch at age ninety-four in August 2017, and two months later, his grandfather, at ninety-one. Rob took a few seconds to reflect on things, then turned around to climb up and aboard his big Curtiss mount.

Lumbering off the runway, the Helldiver climbed away in a slow left turn for Akron. Rob leveled off and proceeded to fly low, following landmarks to navigate on his usual flight path. The frosted landscape took on a beautiful sparkle as Rob watched the sun rise above the horizon. The thick wings of the Helldiver kept him aloft as he passed over Coshocton, and turned to head up the I-77 corridor, as always. Passing over Canton, he could see Akron in the distance, its industrial and residential landscape emerging beyond the hazy horizon line. Rob banked left to make a wide bank over the city, and passed over Firestone Park, to line up for Akron-Fulton. He always glanced out to his left, where he could see Sam's neighborhood, adjacent right next to the oil refinery. He took notice of a wisp of smoke in that area, just barely visible in the glare from the sun. Rob didn't have any time to scrutinize it, as be began dropping flaps and the landing gear for the final approach.

At the perimeter fence stood Sam, watching Rob descend in. He took aim and snapped a photo of Rob touching down with the telephoto lens. Along his way walking to the airport, Sam had taken pictures of scenery along his journey. He wanted to finish up his roll of Ektachrome. He adjusted the aperture and exposure setting and was delighted to see Rob come taxiing up. He fired off the shutter to get another framed up shot of Rob parking the plane. He put his camera down and waved at Rob, who waved back as he sat watching the engine run lean. He soon climbed out once he powered his aircraft down. Rob walked over and let Sam onto the airport, where he took a few close up pictures of the plane and its cuffed, wide-chord Curtiss propeller.

"Alrighty, let's get you to the center~" Rob motioned for the truck.

"Wait! Oh no! I forgot my thumb drive at home!" Sam realized as he looked through his new laptop bag.

"Come on, let's go fetch it." Rob offered.

Getting into the truck, Rob left the airport, and drove to Goodyear Boulevard to pick up Sam's thumb drive for school work.

"So you liking the new laptop?" Rob asked him.

"Love it just like the last one! Thank you!" Sam exclaimed happily.

"I'm a little annoyed that Microcenter didn't have another AMD powered Thinkpad. Intel will just have to do~"

"It all works doesn't it?"

"True~" Rob smiled. "Only the best and-"

Rob hit the brakes hard and stopped mid-sentence. His eyes laid upon Sam's home, emitting thick, black smoke from its windows. There were flames licking against the outside of the home. Rob immediately pulled up to the curve and slammed the shifter into park. Sam jumped out before Rob and ran up to the yard, only to be stopped by Rob.

"MOM! DAD!" screamed the kid. "Oh no!"

Rob looked gobsmacked at the home completely engulfed in flames.

"Oh my god, Rob what are we going to do!?" Sam yelled.

Rob ran back to his truck to fetch his chemical suit and mask. He ripped it open and began donning the rubber trousers, his shoes fitting inside the rubber booties. He slipped the cloth strap suspenders over him, reached down to lash the leg straps, and donned the upper half of the rubber fabric suit. He slipped his big welding gloves on and grabbed the mask.

"Sam! Go get one of your neighbors and call 9-1-1! I'm going to get your parents!"

"Rob it's too dangerous!"

"I'll be fine!" Rob assured. "GO!"

Sam took off running for his neighbor's house. Rob quickly donned the IP-46 mask and secured the hood around it by snapping the neck strap together. He ran as fast as he could in the clumsy suit, towards the raging inferno. Rob knew the suit wasn't going to protect him from the heat or the direct flames; it would only buy him a few minutes time from the toxic smoke.

Getting to the door, Rob grabbed the door knob to find it hot, even through his thick cowhide gloves. He slammed his body into the door to bust it open. It took three hard blows before the doorknob gave out; Rob was immediately greeted by a rush of flame exploding out. Fearless, Rob jumped through the flames and into the inferno of the living room. The entire living room was filled with dense, black smoke, that blocked almost all light. Through his round eyepieces, all Rob saw was black. The heat was incredible, the roar of the fire deafening as timber popped and cracked. Rob felt his way around, screaming through his mask for Isaac and Kayla. He rushed down the hallway towards the bedrooms, peering in the bathroom, Sam's bedroom, and their own bedroom, to find them empty, and filling rapidly with smoke.

The hallway took on the glow of the fire as Rob made his way back into the living room. "ISAAC!" "KAYLA!" Rob screamed. His voice was muffled by the thick rubber mask protecting him and giving him critical oxygen. Just as he stepped into the living room, the wolf-hybrid jumped back when the ceiling gave in. With a mighty crash of flaming timber, the rafters came down, crashing in a cloud of smoke and embers that eerily danced in the inferno's smoke. Rob kicked flaming pieces of wood away, and knocked aside unburned timber, his gloves getting singed and smoking from the sheer heat.

"Kayla! Kayla!" Rob screamed as he fought his way through the rubble. His eyes spotted a badly scorched Kayla lying on the burning couch. She was motioning a bit, gasping for air, as Rob grabbed her. He didn't even have time to process her severe injuries as he picked her up, hearing her moan a bit. He put her over his shoulder and carried her to safety.

Outside, Sam jumped up and down in nervousness as he watched flames melt the siding on his house. He had tears in his eyes as neighbors came out to see the calamity going on. Suddenly Rob emerged from the smoke, carrying Kayla in his arms.

"MOM!" screamed the kid as he ran over. Rob stumbled and sat Kayla down, resting her against a light pole. Her clothes were practically burnt off, and burns covered almost her entire body. She gasped and struggled to breathe as Rob went back in to get Isaac.

"Mom! Mom!" Sam called as he ran over to see her. She let out a wheezing cough and a raspy inhale. Her face was red, raw flesh, that was charred in places. Almost all of her gray fur, and brown locks of hair were singed off. Sam was afraid to even touch her, his paws trembling. "Rob's getting Dad...Rob's getting Dad!"

"It...it was... accident..." she gasped. "Accident..." Kayla collapsed and fell over onto her side. Sam caught her and laid her on the frost covered grass, unsure of what to do. His paws were bloody and covered in burnt flesh from catching her. He couldn't even comprehend the severity of it all.

"ISAAC!" Rob screamed. He looked around in the dining room to find it all ablaze. Through the smoke, he tried to find the wolf. Rob looked under the table, and called his name again, when the ceiling in the living room caved in on him. With a mighty crash, a piece of lumber hit Rob in the head and knocked him to the floor. A glowing piece of timber struck his leg and immediately melted through the rubber suit, burning him. Rob let out a gut busting yell and kicked the piece away, with melted part of his left bootie.

"God damn!" Rob screamed. Fighting the immense pain, he got up and made his way to the kitchen, which was also ablaze. The walls were beginning to crumble as the flames licked at them. Bursting through the doorway, Rob found a severely burned Isaac lying on the ground. Devoid of his brown fur, his flesh was all badly burned and raw. A paw still desperately reached for a fire extinguisher that was lying on the ground.

"Isaac!" Rob called as he knelt down to grab him. For just a microsecond Rob paused. The sight of burned flesh brought a stabbing reminder of his own father, and for just a moment, he could remember hearing his Dad's painful cries from being burned in an accident. Rob forced those thoughts out of his head as he watched the gas line rupture in the kitchen, which began to really intensify the flames. He was really feeling the heat. In great desperation and haste, Rob grabbed Isaac and picked him up, struggling to get a hold against his charred flesh. He let out a gurgling moan of immense pain, and Rob struggled to pick him up.

"Come on, damnit! Isaac!" Rob yelled. It took every ounce of strength to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder. Rob's legs trembled as he turned around and began his desperate escape, through the worsening blaze. The fire was deafening.

Outside, Sam stood with panic on his face as he tried to comfort his mom. Neighbors gathered around and watched from the street as the house began to collapse in on itself. An Akron cop came screeching up and jumped out, the German Shepherd looking shocked himself. Suddenly, emerging from the flames was Rob, carrying a naked, badly hurt Isaac over his shoulder. The cop ran up, and caught Rob, just as his knees finally gave out. The lower half of his L-1 suit was charred and melted, his left leg getting burned in the process. Rob wasn't ready to give up; he forced himself back up, grabbed Isaac and dragged him to safety through the yard. Rob laid him out and tried to assess the situation, finding it critical. He was afraid they would just die on the spot from the extremeness of their injuries.

"Okay! I need towels and water!" Rob commanded. He pointed at people and commanded them to fetch him towels and a hose for water. "I gotta cool them off! Help me!"

The cop took note of Rob's burned leg, and went to check him out, only to be shoved away by the wolf-hybrid. Rob took a charred glove off and felt for a pulse on Kayla. He found a weak pulse by pressing his fingers to her neck. Rob glanced up and saw Sam standing there with tears in his eyes at how badly hurt his parents were. Rob immediately sympathized; he knew the feeling all too well.

Paramedics rushed in and grabbed Kayla and Isaac. Despite Rob's protests, he was taken as well by a third ambulance to the hospital. The officer grabbed Sam and put him in his cruiser, and the emergency convoy all began the mad rush to the emergency room.

---

In the ER, Rob winced to the discomfort of his leg being tended to. A nurse cleaned the burn with some saline and cotton balls, before applying a disinfectant that really stung. Rob bit his lower lip and grumbled to it. The burn was then wrapped up in gauze and taped. Sam stood not far away and watched as Rob was tended to. The wolf-hybrid was soaking wet in sweat, and his hair was a tousled, sweaty mess. Rob looked emotionally burned out. It had been two hours since their arrival at the hospital.

"Well that should do it." The nurse said with confidence as she took her gloves off. "Just be easy on that leg for a while."

"Heh, will do." Rob responded. As the nurse left, he pulled the side table up and resumed writing his police statement on some copy paper and a rollerball pen. Sam seemed unsure of what to do as he stood in silence. Rob took his time to write to distract himself from the entire crisis he was facing; what little information the hospital could tell him was not good for Isaac and Kayla.

Rob heard the door to his room slide open, and he looked up to see the chief trauma surgeon stepping inside. He was accompanied by a tall, slender wolfess with slate gray fur, and a permed hairdo of black curly hair, wearing a blue pants suit and cloth mask.

"Please tell me you are family~" the doctor asked in an exasperated way. Rob sat his pen down; he knew exactly what was coming. Rob pushed the table aside and got up, wincing as he put pressure on his leg.

"I'm not, no. I'm a volunteer at the community center who's helping Sam here."

"Oh, oh no." the doctor quietly said. Rob motioned for him to step out of the room. Rob slid the door shut.

"You can't tell me anything then, can you?" Rob asked him. The doctor pursed his lips and looked away momentarily.

"I'm Susan Fass, Summit County Child Services." The wolfess greeted.

Rob nodded slowly. "They didn't make it did they."

The doctor shook his head.

Rob looked away momentarily and rubbed his muzzle with his paw, a look of deep thought on his face. "Let me tell him, please."

"Please." The doctor agreed.

Rob felt a terribly heavy burden in his heart as he saw Sam standing alone in the hospital room, looking down at the floor. Rob was about to shatter his little, innocent heart, and that weighed heavily on him. He slowly slid the door open and approached Sam.

"Buddy, come here please." Rob motioned. He winced in pain as he knelt down, and placed his paws on Sam's shoulders. "Buddy, I know you're a very strong, young man, and I want you to be strong for me, okay?"

"Okay." Sam stared at Rob. "Are my parents... are they okay?"

Rob pursed his lips and looked down at the floor. He forced himself to look Sam right in his blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam." Rob then paused for a moment.

"...Your parents didn't make it. They both succumbed to their injuries."

Sam was quiet at the heartbreaking news. His jaw dropped a little bit and he took a step back from Rob. "Mom and Dad...are gone now."

Rob was silent as he saw the tears silently well up and stream down Sam's youthful face. "Mom and Dad are dead... and there's nobody there for me... and no home... Rob..."

Overcome by grief, Rob pulled Sam into a hug, the young wolf burying his head into Rob's shoulder and breaking down into tears. He cried and held onto Rob, who did his best to comfort him.

The doctor and social worker looked on with sad eyes at Sam crying in Rob's embrace. They glanced over to see Rob's family appear. His husband Joey, with their nephew Alvin, followed by Felix, and Tony. Joey poked his head in to see Rob comforting a crying Sam, and he knew right away what had happened.

---

Ignoring the discomfort from his leg burn, Rob walked with Sam and the social worker, back to the ER lobby. It was time for Sam to leave with the social worker.

"Rob, where are they taking me?" Sam asked him.

"Buddy, they're taking you to a foster home center. You are now a ward of the state of Ohio." Rob explained in a calm voice. "They're going to take care of you until they can figure out a family arrangement."

"But I don't know any other family?" Sam mentioned.

"I know."

"Okay, Sam? We're going to take you to the Summit County center for children." Susan explained to the kid. "That's where you'll be staying for the time being."

"But why can't I stay with Rob? I know him!" Sam pleaded. "I know Rob! He's been there for me! I want to stay with him!"

Sam looked at Rob with sad, desperate eyes. "Why won't they let me stay with you?"

"Buddy, I'm sadly not family. I legally can't do anything. I'm powerless to stop them." Rob frowned. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I can't help you anymore."

Sam looked at the social worker, and back at Rob, and grew frantic, frustrated, with angry, sad tears flowing down his face. "It's not fair! It's not fair! I don't want to go!" the kid yelled.

"Come on kiddo!" the cop said. He scooped Sam up and threw him over his shoulder, the young wolf kicking and screaming in protest.

"Rob! Stop them! Help me!" Sam cried out as the cop took Sam to the exit with the social worker. "Rob! Help me! I thought I could trust you Rob!?"

"Be strong Sam! Be strong!" Rob called as he watched Sam get carried away. An immense look of sadness was on Rob's face as Sam's cries were silenced by the sliding doors closing. His mouth was slightly slack as he just stood there, seemingly frozen in time. Nobody said anything.

Returning to his room to finish up his treatment and paperwork, Rob was discharged in the early evening. He grabbed an Uber to go back to Goodyear Avenue.

There was nothing left, but a smoldering pile of rubble. As the sun sat behind the massive refinery, Rob stood in the front lawn of what was once Sam's home. He stood there with just a catatonic gaze on his face. He was immensely disappointed. A single firefighter remained, spraying water onto the still hot pieces of twisted and burnt rubble. Steam wavered into the cold air. He couldn't believe that this had happened, and felt that there was no rhyme or reason for the fire. It shocked him at how abrupt, and tragic it became. He felt a terrible sense of regret and sorrow that he couldn't save Isaac and Kayla.

Their horrific injuries haunted him; it brought back the sad memories of his childhood, watching his father struggle with being disfigured by a workplace explosion. It left him so horribly maimed and pain riddled, that it drove him insane. In turn, he took it out on Rob, his brother Jake, and their mother, and anyone around. The screaming, yelling, belittling, the constant putdowns. All of that helped turn Rob into his twisted, present form. If it was just the two, Rob would have felt relieved at their deaths; they wouldn't have to suffer anymore. They would not be in crippling pain and living their lives completely disfigured. But now Sam was orphaned, a ward of the state. He had no more family, as far as Rob could recall. Certainly the state would never send him to live with the Ecklers, and Rob didn't even know if the Martins would take him, given the sort of in-fighting he had heard about. It stabbed Rob with such a feeling of guilt that Sam would be a ward of the state, at the mercy of the cold foster system. And he was powerless to help him. His last words stung badly; Rob had let him down by promising him his help "no matter what". He just couldn't overcome the power of state authority.

"Rob! Rob!" came Joey's voice. Rob turned around to see another taxi sitting on the street, as Felix, Tony, and Alvin stepped out to walk up to be with him.

"Rob are you okay?" Joey asked him.

"No, I'm not." Rob admitted. He walked away from Joey and went back to his spot to stare at the smoldering ruins.

"I let Sam Martin down today." Rob admitted, as Joey stood with him.

"Oh no, Rob. You didn't let him down!" Joey retorted. The Doberman looked surprised at Rob's words.

"I told Sam I would help him no matter what, no matter the cost. And I lied. I couldn't help him with the legal system."

"Rob, he's nine years old, he doesn't know!" Joey exclaimed. "You did so much for him and his family..."

"Apparently not." Rob gestured to the ruins. "How the fuck did this happen!?"

"I have no idea." The Doberman shrugged. "They're going to investigate this."

Rob ran a paw through his tousled hair, and let out an exasperated sigh. As he turned his head, his eyes took notice of something that had a little glisten, in the slowly fading light of day. Rob stepped into the rubble, to hear it crackle and creak beneath his shoes. He walked across to find a framed picture, lying on top of the debris. It was the portrait that hung on the living room wall. The frame broke apart and the cracked glass disintegrated when Rob picked it up, but the photo inside was largely intact. It was a picture of Isaac, Kayla, and a slightly younger Sam, looking happy, with a big smiles on their faces. It hit Rob even harder as he stared at the photo, then the blackened rubble around him. Joey made his way to be with Rob.

"I...could have done more..." Rob said very quietly. Joey leaned in to try and hear him better.

"I could have done more..." Rob muttered. Joey shook his head gently in disagreement. "I don't know Joey...maybe if I had done more- If I had bought them a new house...given them more money..."

"Rob, that young boy is alive because of your kindness...think about that~" Joey comforted.

"Joey...if I had just gotten there a few minutes earlier... I might have been able to-"

"That family will have a legacy because of what you did. There will be a future generation, thanks to you."

Tears began to well up in Rob's weary eyes. His paws trembled. "I didn't do enough."

Joey reached up to hold Rob's paws. "You did more than enough."

Rob looked around at the wreckage around him. He looked at Felix, Tony, and Alvin, who approached him. He looked back at Joey. "I couldn't stop this... I tried... I tried to save them. They were so badly burned...I had to keep my dad out of my thoughts... but the memories were so vivid... those terrible burns... there was...nothing I could do... There was nothing I could do to help Sam..."

Rob broke down in tears. His raw emotion could no longer he held back by his stoicism. Rob fell to his knees, and Joey caught him as he sobbed. The Doberman pulled Rob into his arms and held him as he pressed his head against his shoulder and cried, yelling continuously that "he didn't do enough". Overcome by the sight, the other Dobermans approached and hugged Rob, surrounding him with love as they all tried to comfort him in his time of grief.

---

Watching the fuel pump, Rob stood in the cold and fluttering snow flurries, pumping gas into his Tahoe at a Speedway. Rob leaned against his SUV watching the fuel pump, and traffic on 21st Street. He was enroute to go visit his grandmother at the retirement home, the first trip in almost a year to go see her.

Rob looked about as well as he felt; terrible. Since the terrible house fire that killed Sam's parents on Tuesday, Rob was left in an melancholy state. Felt depressed and just run down. His joints ached again. His leg still bothered him as the burn healed. Even his clothes took on a dour appearance; he wore a brown wool overcoat, over gray pants and shoes.

As Rob neared the end of filling up his Tahoe's tank, an obnoxious looking Ford truck came rumbling on in with its diesel chug. It was lifted way off the ground, with huge knobby tires had ugly, obnoxious rims. Rob took his eyes away to put the fuel nozzle away and cap his Tahoe, when he heard footsteps towards him. Rob turned around to suddenly recognize Colt Martin, his older brother, and father. The three came towards Rob, looking for a fight.

"You think you could just beat on my boy huh?" his father snapped at Rob. Rob showed no emotion on his face as he grabbed the receipt and folded it up to place in his coat pocket.

"Man we're gonna fuck your faggot ass up~" Colt pointed.

"Get him!" his brother shouted.

As if he wasn't really trying, Rob dodged a punch from the father, and proceeded to deck him across the face. As he stumbled, Rob blocked one of Colt's punches with his left paw; he ripped his Glock out of its holster and pistol whipped the wolf in the same exact spot he hit him with the telephone. Colt's head whipped back and he fell to the ground. Rob fired his 10mm, and put a bullet right over the brother's shoulder, which shattered their Ford's side mirror. The gunshot report scared everyone around; people dove to the ground, there were screams and pandemonium, as Rob held the smoking gun at them.

"Get." Rob motioned with his gun. The brother ran back to the truck, followed by Colt, who clutched his bleeding forehead. Rob walked up to their father, and to make a point, kicked him as hard as he could in the stomach.

"I see the apple didn't fall far from the tree." Rob quipped as he holstered his gun. "Your son ain't no alpha. Neither are you. Beta males. Is all I see."

Rob casually got back into his Tahoe, started it up, and took off. Everyone at Speedway looked in disbelief at the short little fight. Rob continued on his way to the retirement home, near the far north end of Newark.

At Northpointe Acres, lived Nancy Barion. At eighty-eight years old, she was a widow, sadly isolated by the pandemic. It was the first time the community center was offering visitation, since the pandemic had begun, and it was on a very limited basis. Rob likened it to another case of bumbling bureaucracy he had to deal with just to see her. He donned his cloth mask, stepped inside, signed in, had his temperature taken, and then was allowed to directly go to her living quarters.

Nancy lived in what was basically a mini-condominium in the retirement community. The frail, elderly wolfess sat at her little desk, filling out paperwork for some medical bills that were due. She was dressed in a pair of blue slacks and a pink sweater, her white hair neatly permed and trimmed short. A knock at the door, brought her attention back, and she got up to slowly shuffle her slipper covered feet, to answer it. She opened the door to find her grandson standing there; his exhausted, burned out look shocked her.

"My god!" Nancy exclaimed. "Rob what happened to you!? Come in! Come in!"

Rob took his coat off and sat on her little blue couch. His grandmother soon returned with a cup of coffee for him and a cinnamon bun she warmed up. She took a seat next to him on the couch with her coffee and bun.

"Rob it's been such a crazy year!" Nancy exclaimed. "Ever since March, it's just gone to hell in a hand basket!"

"You're telling me." Rob pursed his lips. "Since January for me."

"Rob tell me what's wrong~" Nancy said, looking and sounding concerned. "You look all exhausted and beat down!"

"I am, frankly." Rob bluntly told her. He told her the story of his health and legal problems, which were long-winded tales of frustrating stays in the hospital and being bedridden, on account of an accident at the airport. It lead into his legal woes from his actions up in Akron the year before, and being stuck as a "volunteer" at the Akron Community Center. The story tone changed from a frustrated sequence of bad events, to his sad tale trying to help a nine year old boy and his drug addicted parents, which Nancy could see really upset Rob, especially when he talked about everything; getting shot and wounded, and then risking his own life to pull two very badly burned people out of a burning house. The wolf-hybrid was particularly wounded emotionally by the sight of Sam being taken away.

"The last thing he said to me was 'I thought I could trust you'." Rob recalled, looking really hurt by that. "I...I really let him down, because I failed to prepare him for that fate."

Nancy looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "Rob, he doesn't know any better, he's just a nine year old who was scared. In that short window of time, he lost both his parents and then gets taken away from you- the only person he knows at that point in time. I wouldn't take it that hard."

"I know what it's like first hand to be let down, to have trust shattered like that. It's happened my whole life...it hurts, Grandma, right to the heart."

"I know it does Rob~"

"Now I can't help him." Rob stated with a very sad tone. "I didn't do enough for him and his family- but what else could I have done? I tried everything to get them help, and they were so close... they were so close to getting that help, and the house burned down with them inside. All Kayla could say before she died was 'an accident'- I'll never know the truth."

Rob shook his head in disappointment. "That's kid's life is going to be ruined by the system."

"Sadly...the foster care system is a pitfall for so many children. They're stuck in it until they age out, and are left to fend on their own."Nancy frowned.

"I failed him..." Rob choked up. "I really failed him..."

The frail wolfess saw the tears drip from those weary eyes of his. She reached over to grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table, and dabbed his eyes for him.

"Anything is possible if you fight hard enough and believe in it, Rob." Nancy started to explain. "You didn't fail that boy- had you never been in Akron, had you never met him, he very well could have been dead by now, and you'd never even know it. He'd be just another headline in the local news there. You gave him as much love and hope as anyone could have imagined."

"He's now a ward of the state, and I'm not family...so there's nothing really I can do now. I can't fight the bureaucratic system the state has created."

"You've fought tough battles before and won, so what makes this any different? Sometimes we have to do things- not because they're easy, but because they're hard~" Nancy explained. "And from what you've told me about his family dynamic? A broken house, drug addicted parents, one side practically disowning, and the other side almost all in prison?"

"...you may very well be that little boy's only hope now."

Rob had a look of introspection on his face. He looked away for a moment and took a deep breath. "I don't know what the outcome will be...I should probably talk to my attorney...see what she has to say..."

"You'll never know, till you try~" smiled his grandmother.

"You know what? I'm going to call Lisa when I get home." Rob pointed. "I'm gonna try and get the gears in motion."

"But stay a bit! I haven't seen you all year!" Nancy exclaimed. "Do you not realize how insane I get when I'm just here by myself all day! I'm running out of crossword puzzles and letters to write to people!"

"Heh, okay, Grandma~" smiled Rob.

---

One Week Later

A cold Wednesday morning presented everyone at Akron's Glendale cemetery. A cold wind blew amongst the tree covered hills, kicking up the dusting of snow that had turned the landscape white. Headstones lined the quiet landscape, which was hilly, almost resembling a partially wooded park. It was the site of a memorial service, for Isaac and Kayla.

Rob adjusted his black and gold striped necktie, and brushed some snow off the thick wool collar of his button up jacket. He wore a gray, wool papakha atop his head, like his friend Maverick, who was preparing one of their old tube cameras, the classic Ikegami HL-79DA. Marcus and Felix Barion manned the same camera, bolted down on tripods, for a traditional three camera setup. Rob wanted the funeral documented for posterity. The memorial service was really small; just a couple of his friends and family members attending, along with Agent Dove and his Cleveland counterpart, Agent Clark. Rob had tried to get members of the Eckler and Martin families to come, but he had run into major snags. The Ecklers were either in prison, or dead, and the Martins, through a combination of family in-fighting, pandemic restrictions, and scheduling problems, were unable or unwilling to attend. The only thing that mattered in Rob's thoughts was that Sam was present for his parents' funeral. The young wolf stood by their caskets, dressed in new winter clothes Rob had gotten him. He held a small bouquet of flowers in his grip.

Rob had spent the week before fighting to help Sam any way he could. With the help of his attorney, Rob pleaded to a sympathetic judge, who, with the blessing of Summit County's Child Services, struck a compromise between Rob, CPS, and Akron; Rob could go and visit Sam and handle the funeral preparation of his parents, while CPS negotiated custodianship with Sam's Aunt and Uncle, who lived in Williamstown, New York. It was agreed upon that Sam would go live with the Martins, once all the legal hurdles were resolved. When Rob got permission to see Sam again, it was a happy reunion between them. Sam rushed over and hugged Rob tightly, excited to see him return. It made Rob happy too. Now he wanted to do the right thing for Isaac and Kayla, in his final goodbye. As the final preparations were made, Rob thought of what to say for the eulogy. He would be the only one speaking, next to Sam.

Standing around the gravesite, he spotted his twin brother Jake, his grandmother, Joey, Alvin, Tony, and Agents Dove and Clark. Everyone was bundled against the cold, with masks covering their faces. Rob glanced at his handwritten notes, and nodded for the cameras to start rolling their U-Matic decks. Rob waited a few seconds for everything to get ready. He adjusted the small tripod that held a large shotgun mic that was aimed at him.

"Good morning and thank you. The ceremony will now begin, in remembrance and celebration to the lives of Isaac Barry Eckler, and Kayla Rachael Martin, who sadly passed away, well before their time on the third of November in a house fire of unknown origin at this time. By chance, I had the pleasure of getting to meet and know Isaac and Kayla for a short period of time, and was appreciative of their kindness and acceptance in my assistance to their son, Sam Martin. Now I wish to return the kindness to them for a final goodbye~"

Rob looked over to see Sam standing with the group. He gave Rob an encouraging thumbs up as he listened. It made Rob smile a bit, it brought more confidence out in him.

"Isaac and Kayla were unfortunately the products of broken homes, and were tragically blighted by the evils of drug addiction. They struggled against that addiction, while juggling crises with employment, their home, and a roaring pandemic that still threatens all of us even as we speak. But in spite of all that, their underlying kindness always shone through to me. I got to personally meet them when they invited me over for dinner one evening, after they had found out I had been helping their son with schoolwork at the community center. I knew deep down that they loved their son, but they just couldn't overcome their problems to truly let that shine. None of us are perfect, and we'd be lying if we said we were. Probably some people thought that they were just some lowly junkies- undeserving of compassion because of bad life choices. They had a problem, and I wanted to help them because I think people deserve a second chance, especially after I found out about their lives. A young man whose father was an addict himself and died from it, a mother in prison and him left on his own, a scared teenager facing a family trauma called divorce, and getting pregnant at thirteen, and having a baby at fourteen. These are the catalysts, the origins to their problems. They don't deserve their lives being left on the ash heap of history- a little footnote in the morning newspaper. Isaac and Kayla were more than just their addiction and problems; they were people who had hopes and dreams just like the rest of us. They just needed help. Now, they're one with the ages. They don't have to suffer anymore. There will be no more addiction to blight them, there will be no more pain, no more uncertainty. I'll always remember them for the hope that they had for their son, and the kindness that shone through the darkness in these trying times."

Rob gestured for Sam to come up. "I'm sure, you have a few words to say too?"

Sam shyly nodded and walked over to where the microphone was. He leaned towards it and looked around at everyone. "I'm going to miss my parents, because that's all I had, well, until Rob showed up one day."

Rob took a step back and kept the calm look on his face. He was a bit surprised at Sam's comment.

"I helped my parents any way I could, because I'm their son. I would bring food home from the community center so they wouldn't go hungry. I cleaned up stuff they dropped on the floor, so they wouldn't trip and fall when they got up off the couch. I wanted to be the best son ever. That is why I try and learn and be smart- so I can be the best son ever, since that's what Dad and Mom wanted me to be. They told me many times to not be like them, and to use my smartness for good. I'll keep on doing that, for them~"

Sam glanced over at Rob, who smiled and encouraged him to say more. Sam smiled back and looked at his small audience of well-wishers.

"I think the most important thing my parents taught me, maybe not intended this way... but that people are not perfect, and we all make mistakes, and that's okay. And I'd like to thank Rob for all the help, and trying to help my parents, and now helping me get to New York with my Aunt Mary and Uncle Jake. I appreciate it! Thank you~"

There was a small round of applause as Sam stood in front of his parents' coffins. With the eulogy finished, everyone gathered around and had a moment of silence. They placed flowers on the caskets, and paid their respects. Sam stood and placed a paw on both of them as he said a personal goodbye to his mom and dad. Then the caskets were slowly lowered into the ground, and the grave diggers came to shovel dirt to fill the hole up. As Sam and Rob watched, the wolf-hybrid assured Sam that he had a nice headstone planned for them.

"I can't thank you enough, Rob~" Sam told him quietly.

"I wasn't going to let them be ingloriously buried in a plotters grave, that's for sure." Rob added. "I'll take care of this."

---

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Rob fixed the last two buttons to his red and white pajamas and adjusted the loose collar. Nighttime had come at the foster center, and Rob was ready to retire to bed. As part of the compromise with Akron, Rob got permission to stay with Sam, to keep him company during the lonely nights. The wolf-hybrid did it without complaint.

Sam's small bedroom was like a cramped little college dormitory. Its walls were painted a very light shade of blue, as shadows were cast long by the table lamp on Sam's desk. The young wolf sat and finished up homework on his new laptop as he slowly typed away on it.

"I think probably by the weekend, all the bureaucratic hurdles will be overcome, and you'll be on your way to Williamstown~" Rob said as he brushed his wavy hair.

"Going home~" Sam nodded. "I was born there, but I never been there. It's going to be a big change."

"Oh yeah. But like anything, you'll adjust." Rob assured.

"Why such a delay?"

"Well, that's how government is. Bureaucratic."

"Why's that Rob?"

"Because in government, it's a never ending quest to deflect blame, and shift it onto other people. Bureaucracies thrive by having enough people in the chain of command to cover one's ass, they say." Rob chuckled. "It's never your fault, it's their fault, and so on, and so on."

"Ah!" laughed Sam.

"With me, the buck stops here." Rob gestured sarcastically. "Adults need to own their mistakes."

Sam closed up his laptop for the night and yawned. "Thank you for coming back."

"Buddy, I was never going to leave you to your fate." Rob nodded. "I promised you I'd help you, no matter what."

"It's helped in this scary time... man... the first week was scary."

"I can only imagine."

"Then you came back, and I felt like there was a sense of normal again~"

"Well I'm here, every night till you depart for home."

"And we can still stay in touch right?"

"Sure!"

"Okay then!" grinned Sam. "Well Rob, I think I'm going to bed."

"Same here. I'm exhausted." Rob agreed.

Rob climbed into his tiny little bed, and covered himself up. Sam reached over and turned the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness, with only the faint light of an amber streetlight outside the window, casting shadows from the blinds.

"Good night, Sam~"

"Good night, Rob."

---

On her first official mission in over a year, "Coneflower" arrived to New York in style. On a sunny, bright morning, the glistening L-1049E began its slight nose-down descent for Williamstown's airport. The curvaceous Lockheed rumbled in with her four turbocompound radials purring away, driving glistening sets of Curtiss propellers. At the helm, Rob personally flew his transport plane with Joey, while Sam got a front row seat in the cockpit with them. His mechanic Vlado served as the flight engineer, and a few other members of the airport engineering team tagged along, should "Coneflower" develop any mechanical faults.

"Okay, give me altitude countdown~" Rob called out.

"Six hundred!" Joey called.

Sam watched Joey count down the altimeter while Vlado began reducing engine power. Rob flared the nose up, and after a few seconds of "floating", the Super Constellation touched down with a jolt. Tires squeaked and scraped against the runway pavement. Vlado immediately commanded maximum reverse thrust, and the cockpit was filled with the mighty roar of the propellers. Rob slowed up and turned off the runway, onto the service road, which was barely large enough for the big propliner. Sam looked ahead through the cockpit windows to see Joey's big C-97G sitting on the tarmac, which had flown in the airstair needed for the Connie.

On the ground, standing at the fence was Mary and Jake DuPont, the sister and brother-in-law of Kayla Martin. Their ten year old son, Cody, stood between them as they watched the silver propliner's arrival. Her father, John Martin, stood with them; all of them looked excited at Sam's arrival, and cheered, clapped, and waved as they saw Sam and Rob both wave from the cockpit window. Engines were powered off, the airstair was rapidly pushed up to allow everyone to disembark from the tall Connie.

Rob followed Sam down the metallic steps. While Joey and the others went to inspect the Constellation, Rob took a moment to say a few personal words to Sam, before they had to depart for good.

"Well Sam... this is it." Rob nodded. "This is my goodbye... for now that is."

"Yep. I'm going to my new home now." Sam nodded in return. "It's crazy, how fast everything has happened."

"Yep. I know that feeling." Rob understood. He mustered a smile for the boy. "I'm very proud of you Sam. You've really shown great courage, tenacity, and smarts for someone your age."

"Well...I had to~ You know?"

"Mhmm~ I do know." Rob smiled. "I'm very proud of you. And I know you're gonna build on this and be a great person someday."

"Hopefully!" Sam smiled.

"I know you will~" Rob assured warmly.

Sam's smile faded a bit. "I'll see you again someday, right?"

"When the pandemic gets better mitigated, and things are safer, me and Joey will come and visit you. Get adjusted to your new home, make new friends, in the meantime."

"Sure!"

"And you're always welcome to come and visit me and Joey as well. You're an honorary member of my aviation museum, so you and your family can come for free anytime you want. If you need a plane ride, I'll get you taken care of."

"Thank you Rob!"

"We'll always stay in touch." Rob reassured him. He reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope, with Sam's name written on it. "This is for you. This is money for your future. I have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for you, and just you. Have your Aunt and Uncle put this in a bank account and let it percolate. Use this to go to college, get your future home- use it for your future, Sam."

"Wow...that's a lot of money... thank you!" Sam exclaimed.

"Anything for ya, friend~" Rob smiled.

"Rob, you're my hero." Sam admitted with a happy expression on his face.

"I'm no hero~" chuckled Rob. "I don't have the virtues to be a hero."

"Well, you're a hero to me." Sam smiled. "And I think that's what matters most!"

Rob and Sam grew silent for a moment, as they looked at each other and reflected on their lives, and how a chance encounter changed both of them. Sam gave Rob a hug, and Rob accepted it. Without words, they embraced each other for a long goodbye. Sam eventually broke away and ran off to go meet and Aunt and Uncle, cousin, and grandfather, for the first time in his life. Rob smiled at the sight at watching Sam be hugged and greeted by his Aunt Mary and Uncle Jake. He turned to go walk over to see Joey, when he heard his name very faintly. He turned around to see Sam return with his family.

"Oh no..." Rob thought to himself; he didn't want it to be about himself. But being courteous, Rob turned and walked over to greet the Martin and DuPont family.

"Aunt Mary, this is Rob Barion! My hero!" Sam introduced him. Rob reached a paw out for a friendly shake of paws.

"We can't thank you enough for your kindness." Mary said with such a warm tone to her voice. She looked like a slightly older, and taller version of Kayla. "I don't even know how we could ever repay you!"

"I don't want repayment~ I think being nice shouldn't need compensation." Rob shrugged. "It was a sheer pleasure getting to know Sam. I met him at the community center that I'm volunteering at, and the rest is history."

"I wanted to say thanks, because you saved Sam's life, directly, and indirectly. We tried to reach out to Kayla for years, but we've just all became too estranged."

"It's my fault." John spoke up. "The divorce ruined my daughter."

"It's nobody's fault- it is what it is now." Rob gestured.

"Kayla got traumatized with the divorce, and she started hanging around the wrong crowd, and that's when she got pregnant, and when Sam was born, she just flew the coop to Ohio with Isaac."

"It was a very bad time." John added. "You saved my grandson, Rob."

"No, no, Sam did a very good job saving himself with his wits. He's a very smart young man, and I'm very proud of him. He's...also taught me a thing or two, that I'm appreciative about."

"Thank you Rob!" grinned Sam.

"Heh, you're welcome." Rob chuckled.

"Now we got a full family we always wanted, Mary~" chuckled Jake DuPont. He was a big black furred wolf, a construction worker.

"I'm honored that I got to know Kayla and Isaac, for that little bit of time. I think Kayla was a very kind and sweet girl, and that shone through the darkness that was addiction."

"She was." Mary nodded. "Kayla was a wonderful sister, before the drugs and chaos pried her away."

"I wanted to help them so bad... and fate decided otherwise."

"I'll always be thankful for what you did to help our family." John nodded. "Thank you Rob."

"I admittedly...didn't do enough, but I'm very appreciative of your kindness. All of you." Rob nodded.

"You're more than welcome to come and visit anytime!" Mary offered.

"Heh, when the pandemic gets better, I'll come and visit with Joey. How does that sound Sam?"

"I like it!"

"There ya go~"

Rob and Joey stood around with the Martins for a bit and conversed, before finally saying goodbye. Sam went with his new family, through the gate and at the fence, and watched as Rob and his entourage of mechanics climbed aboard the glistening L-1049. Felix Barion and his team, got their equipment stowed back aboard the big, bulbous Boeing. With clouds of white, oily smoke, the big radial engines were turned over. Cylinders hacked and coughed as propellers roared. Sam took the opportunity to take some photos with his Nikon F4. The C-97 taxied by first, followed by "Coneflower", as they made their way for the runway.

"Sam, you made yourself a lifetime friend." Mary complimented.

"I'm very thankful." Sam agreed. He watched as the Boeing lifted off the runway with a mighty roar of its massive Wasp Major radial engines. The exhaust was a bit smoky as the Stratofreighter climbed away slowly. A minute later, "Coneflower" gracefully lifted off the runway. Sam raised his camera and fired shot after shot off, watching the cherry red flames sputter from her big turbocompound radials.

"Hey look, both planes are circling around~" Jake pointed out.

Sam watched as the Boeing and Lockheed came around for a low pass overhead. Their radial engines filled the air with a deep, throaty burble. The Martins watched as both propliners wiggled their wings in salute as they flew overhead. Sam quickly fired off his camera and finished up his roll of film, as he watched Rob and his family, begin to fly westward, to head back home to Ohio.

"Come on buddy, let's get on home~ Lunch is waiting for us!" Jake exclaimed.

Sam smiled and stowed his camera away, back into his bag as he walked with his new family, back to their vehicles. He glanced one more time up into the sky to try and see a parting view of his friend, before continuing on through the parking lot.

Passing over rural New York, Rob maintained his slow climb to ten thousand feet. To his right, the C-97G followed, slowly climbing with him. Joey helped set up the autopilot while Rob flew, and Vlado maintained the engines. The Brazilian Dober looked over to see Rob, who sat in the captain's seat, with a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes. Joey took notice of Rob's expression; it was the most unspeakable calm he had ever seen on Rob's face. Something he hadn't seen in years.

---

By nightfall, Rob laid in bed with Joey curled up with him. He felt relaxed in the dim glow of the lamp. Rob turned his head and looked at Joey, who smiled at him. Rob smiled in return.

"You doing okay Rob?" Joey asked him.

"I'm doing much better, thank you for asking, Joey."

"I could see it on your face. The haggard, stern gaze, was gone today."

"I felt relieved for Sam. That nightmare for him is over. I can let go of this feeling of obligation."

"You did a good job, Rob."

"I did what had to be done."

Joey snuggled him warmly and affectionately, followed by a tender kiss. "I love you Rob."

"Thanks, Joey. I love you too." The wolf-hybrid smiled back.

"So you're feeling a lot better...and I could tell...your performance is tenfold now."

"Heh, well it helps my joints are about back to normal. I keep getting replacement parts, I'll be Robocop." Chuckled Rob. Joey caressed his chest playfully.

"Are you enjoying your fun little steamy action with Anton and Borr?" Joey asked him.

"It's fun, yeah. They're fun guys, what can I say? Throw Ben in the mix too."

"Ohhh, getting you some hot young ass I see?" grinned Joey.

"NO!" Rob laughed. "Not quite. I mean, I sucked his dick, and he told me that I looked like someone who could suck dick good."

"Well it's true." Smiled Joey.

"But fun aside, I like making love to you. It's not fucking to me."

"True~ It's definitely much more intimate, and your butthole isn't as well used as Anton's~" laughed Joey with a grin. "I do like that butt tattoo of his~"

"Heh, it's not bad." Rob smiled. "I've rimmed it a few times. He takes good care of it."

"Always a plus!"

"But...I feel kinda bad still doing this and being married to you."

Joey laughed a bit. "Oh Rob, relax! We've been together for fourteen years- I love ya no matter what."

"Yep. A long time."

"Indeed."

"Maybe umm...as I get more comfy with this...maybe we could kinda spice things up once in a while with those two?"

"Oh...I see what you mean." The Doberman chuckled. "You know what? I kinda like that idea."

"Like...not open our relationship up all the way like a fully open relationship...but you know...quasi...have some fun once in a while with those two."

"I'm comfortable with it, as long as you're comfortable." Smiled Joey. "Plus, I gotta show you boys how it's done."

"Oh please~" Rob laughed.

"Hey, I was a stripper! Did any of your motherfuckers pull that shit off?" Joey grinned. "Read 'em and weep!"

"Get outta here." Laughed Rob. He and Joey laughed and laid in bed together, enjoying each other's company.

---

Pouring Rob a mug of coffee, Agent Dove handed it off to Rob in his office, at the Cincinnati branch of the FBI. Rob poured some creamer and sugar into it and stirred it around with a stirring straw. Rob watched as Dove poured himself a cup of black coffee.

"Well Rob...how does it feel to be out of legal annoyances?" Dove asked him with a hint of sarcasm.

"I sense sarcasm in that." Rob quipped as he took a sip of his coffee.

"You donated ten million dollars to the city of Akron." Dove recalled in his legal notes on Rob's file. "One million for the brownfield cleanup, four million for Akron City Schools, and five million dollars for the Akron Community Center, with a significant portion of that for their addiction recovery program. Rob...I must say...you are being very generous."

"What can I say?"

Dove chuckled a bit. "You have bought your way out of legal trouble~ You paid for the damages last year, you helped their school district and community center out, and now you can be out of their hair, and the police can have you out of their jurisdiction. All in all, everyone's happy, aren't they?"

"Yep." Rob nodded with a bit of a smirk.

Dove got up and walked to glance out his office window, which oversaw the skyline of Cincinnati. "I must remark that you were especially generous to that young man, Sam Martin, and his family."

"A little kindness goes a long way doesn't it?"

"It does...but I'm curious as to why you went so far out of your way?" Dove asked him. "I ask you this because I know you committed a felony..."

Rob grew quiet. Dove walked past him with a sort of smirk on his face.

"Your police report submitted to the Akron police doesn't exactly line up with some of the timelines and evidence presented. You claimed the shooting happened, and then they rushed you to the hospital. The evidence and autopsies, plus interrogation of the parties arrested seem to indicate a half hour gap between the time of the shooting, and your arrival to the hospital- being carried in over the shoulder of Isaac Eckler, into the ER. I was curious myself at this little discrepancy, so I poked around... and found this..."

Dove lifted up a photo that was on his desk. It showed a dumpster filled with drugs and three ruined marijuana plants inside a garbage bag. He smiled at Rob. "I also found your fingerprint on it...a sample of your blood... Hiding evidence and lying about it is a felony Rob."

The wolf-hybrid kept mum and just sat in his chair.

"I'll tell you right now that nobody gives a shit. The Akron police don't care- they're not gonna pursue anything, because Isaac is dead now. The FBI don't care- and I don't care frankly, because its beyond our scope. But humor me Rob...why did you do that? Why did you risk legal jeopardy again? Why did you risk getting shot and killed, risk dying in a house fire to save his parents...all for that kid? Sam Martin. You didn't know him before you worked at the community center. You usually wouldn't have cared about some random person like that, but you went above and beyond in helping him, and you risked everything. Why Rob?"

Rob pursed his lips and had a momentarily flash of thought on his face.

"I felt that his life was being destroyed. I had to help them- there was no choice." Rob answered him.

Dove seemed interested in that answer, and he walked around Rob, as the wolf-hybrid observed his pace.

"Dove...I just...I saw him every day at the center, all alone. In the library, eating lunch, reading a book, and then getting food and bebopping his way home. He's nine years old. And after I saw him walking home in the rain... I started poking around and finding just a sadder and sadder picture, and I met his parents...and I had to help him. His life- parts of it, hit so close to home for me... just him being a kid almost all alone just brought so many memories up... I was afraid he-

"You were afraid that he was going to become like you." Dove cut in, his tone softening.

Rob exhaled slowly. He admitted a very quiet "yeah".

A smile returned on Dove's face. "Rob...that's very exceptional of you."

"A little foolish if you asked me..." Rob sarcastically shrugged.

"Rob, that's called empathy. You might think it's a weakness of yours...but I think it's your greatest strength. You saw a problem, and you rose to the challenge. How many people would have just shrugged their shoulders and just moved on with their lives? But you took pity on him, because you knew yourself. And you went to great lengths and financial expenditures to try and help him by any means. That's exceptional. That's very kind. I think that's one of your hallmarks of your- at times, twisted morality."

"I am who I am~" Rob shrugged.

"It's why I don't consider you a psychopath." Dove shook his head. "Sociopaths have no empathy, they hurt anyone, even the people they love. You know what it's like to have your heart shattered and hurt. That's why despite the iron shield covering your heart- you have a big soft spot to help heal broken hearts like yourself. That's why you took in Felix, that's why you're raising your nephew, that's why you helped Sam."

Rob thought about it and kinda gestured with a half shrug, as though he was just going along with it.

"Take it for what it is~" Dove shrugged in response. "All in all...you did a good job. And you're now legally cleared."

"Good."

"Don't ever let me catch you doing that again." Dove pointed more sternly.

Rob smiled. "Can't make any guarantees!"

Dove couldn't help but laugh about Rob's response as he watched Rob finished his coffee and sat the empty mug on his desk. He grabbed a couple documents and quickly signed them for Dove and placed them back on the desk. "Here ya go~"

Rob got up and grabbed his coat and threw it over and buttoned it up. He opened the door and started to step through, when Dove called his name out.

"Rob~"

The wolf-hybrid stopped and turned around to see Dove smiling at him, from his desk.

"Don't get yourself killed, please~"

Rob smirked a bit, nodded and closed the door behind him. A few minutes later, Dove watched from his office windows as Rob lifted off in his dark green Alouette III helicopter, and turned to head home for Newark.

---

The clock on the wall read three-fifty in the afternoon, as Rob finished up work. Draped in his apron and big kitchen gloves, Rob finished up the last of the dishes, on his last day at the community center. It was the usual gaggle of people, hard at work in the kitchen, as the usual banter and conversations filtered around the chrome lined kitchen. Rob finished up the last dish and placed it in the strainer, which he picked up and carried over to where the clean dishes were. He took his apron and gloves off and checked the time.

Stepping out of the kitchen, Rob went to go fetch the vacuum from the utility closet, to sweep up the entry lobby. He momentarily paused and glanced into the cafeteria, remembering all the times he had lunch with Sam, in the back corner. The round table that they once occupied was now empty. Rob walked by the library, and could still see Sam come running on out with his laptop. The community center seemed empty now without his presence. Rob spent the last ten minutes of work vacuuming up the lobby. The new director of the facility walked by, smiled at him and nodded in approval. Rob smiled and nodded back. As the clock hit four, Rob put the vacuum away, and instead of turning for the door, turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Hey everyone~" Rob spoke up. The conversations all quickly died, and everyone turned to look at Rob.

"Well...it's time for me to go." Rob announced. "So I just wanted to say thank you- it was a pleasure working with all of you since September."

"Oh, well...thank you Rob!" Ally smiled. "I appreciated your presence here as well."

"Yeah, you have a good time going back to Newark~" Haley nodded.

"It was nice getting to know you." Mercer added.

Rob saw Tyrone approach him. He momentarily paused and they just stared at each other.

"Sorry about our little squabble before." Tyrone said, holding a paw out to him. Rob accepted his paw shake.

"Water under the bridge. Thank you everyone! Have a good night~"

Everyone waved as Rob smiled, turned, and walked out the kitchen doors. He said goodbye to the servers, and thanked Mindy, before he stepped out the doors for the last time. He quickly made his way down the steps, into the late afternoon sun. He had one more thing he needed to do in Akron.

Going around to the back lot, Rob unlocked his pickup truck. Instead of the orange work truck, Rob had driven up from Newark in his cherry red, Silverado, a flat-bed 3500HD. A shiny aluminum bed, complete with protective headache rack had his long fifth-wheel trailer hitched up to it. The orange 2500HD sat strapped down on the trailer, ready to go home with him to be traded in at his friend's dealership. The truck had served its purpose. Rob gingerly turned around, and began his trek across town, back to Goodyear Boulevard, for the final time.

Goodyear Boulevard was quiet as Rob pulled up to the spot where Sam used to live at. He arrived to pick up the gray Chevy Cruze he had bought for Kayla and Isaac. It was a somber occasion for him. After a few weeks dealing with the legal ownership of the car, the Martin family asked that Rob take care of it for them, which he obliged. It too would be traded back in at his friend's dealership. Rob deployed the ramps to his trailer, and he drove the Cruze up and behind the Silverado. He took his straps and secured the wheels down tightly. Taking a moment, Rob walked up the yard, to where the home once stood, to reflect on things.

Rob believed he had finally heard the reason behind the fatal house fire. Akron's fire investigators came to a speculative conclusion that the house fire was accidental, caused by combustion of alcohol. It was believed that Isaac had accidentally got vodka all over himself, and someone caught himself on fire. It was based on evidence from the autopsy. Both Isaac and Kayla had significant amounts of alcohol and drugs in their system at the time of their deaths, and Kayla most likely was too disoriented to respond to the crisis. Their deaths were largely contributed to the extensive burns to their bodies, coupled with drug and alcohol intoxication, and the inhalation of toxic smoke. Rob felt disappointed at the final conclusion. He felt disappointed at himself; he had given Sam a bunch of money for his parents, and Rob felt as though he had killed them with it.

The rubble was cleared away, and the foundation torn up and removed. The square shape of where the home once stood was now covered by straw to protect the grass seed that was thrown down. A small oak tree was planted in their memory by Rob and Sam. Rob stood and took a moment to just mourn in private. With the sun going down slowly, Rob felt it was best to leave; he had a two hour drive back to Newark. He took one final look at Goodyear Boulevard, and nodded to himself. He climbed aboard his truck and carefully got himself backed up and out of the narrow, dead-end street. He left Akron on I-77, southbound.

The evening traffic died down as he left Akron and Canton, and spent a good hour driving through the rural eastern half of Ohio. His truck burbled along, pulling the heavy trailer behind it, as Rob listened to the radio casually. As he neared Newcomerstown, and the exit for Route 36, to Coshocton, Rob noticed a bunch of smoke in the distance. Headlights from oncoming traffic illuminated the sight of a clearly disabled vehicle. Rob began to slow up, noticing people standing around, looking a bit frustrated. Rob put his hazards on and slowed up to pull off on the side of the interstate.

Rob hopped out into the cold to find a Chevy S-10 broken down. It was one of the last ones made, with a crew cab configuration. The blue truck had its hood opened, and smoke and steam billowed from it. The air smelled like burnt oil. There were fluids all over the road. Rob saw in the dim light that the truck was just beat to hell; it's little bed was filled to the brim with tools and paint buckets, and hitched to it was a massive trailer. There were four Dobermans; three were black and rust like Joey, and a lady Dober who had red fur and brown locks of hair. They all wore paint splattered clothes.

"Excuse me! I see you might need some help?" Rob asked them.

"Man...this stupid fucking truck broke down at the worst possible time!" exclaimed one of the Dobermans.

"I can see that~" Rob nodded.

"Bobby you pushed the damn truck to the fucking limit!" the lady Dober yelled.

"What else was I supposed to fucking do Katie?" shouted the man.

"Dad just stop!" pleaded one of the younger Dobermans.

"Okay, okay, easy there." Rob motioned. "By the way, I'm Rob Barion."

"Bobby Cotswold."

"Nice to meet you. You folks from around here?"

"Coshocton." Bobby told Rob. "We had a big paint gig up in Canton, and we were making our way back, when the damn engine blew. Maximum weight payload on this long ass trip."

"We're having a hard time." Katie said to Rob. "It's been such a bad year for us..."

"I had a decent F-150 that could do it, but some dingaling had to sideswipe the damn thing!" Bobby yelled.

"Is this a family painting business?"

"Yeah." One of the teens responded.

Rob turned his phone light on and read the name "Cotswold Painting" on the side of the trailer.

"Now I don't know what to do... man... I got a big painting gig tomorrow, and we're barely making ends meet!"

Rob fumbled his brow. "If I gave you my orange truck...would that help you?"

"What?" Bobby exclaimed.

"I'm taking this orange truck back to Newark to get it traded in, because it's surplus to me. But I think you need it way more, and I'll just give it to ya."

"Really? You'd just give a random stranger a truck?"

"You need help~" Rob mustered a smile for him. "I'm feeling generous tonight."

Bobby looked at his wife and kids, and back at Rob with a gobsmacked look. He laughed in an excited way, and threw his arms around Rob, which took him by surprise. Bobby laughed and cried a bit out of sheer happiness. Rob patted his back and felt appreciated.

"Come on, why don't you all get in my truck, and I'll take you home, and we'll come back and get your trailer."

"Come on kids~" Katie motioned.

"I gotta call my husband real quick..." Rob rolled his eyes with a smile.

---

Down in his personal office, Rob finished up writing an outline of a speech he planned on doing for the company. Armed with his felt pen, Rob jotted his thoughts onto a yellow legal pad. It was a serious speech that was going to be shot on video with Maverick. Rob felt compelled to explain to his workers what was going on with the company; the austerity measures to save the company from financial ruin, the leadership change up, now that Rob was turning departments over to Maverick to oversee, and the uncertainty with the pandemic that continued to claim lives. They were down to the last thirty-one days of 2020. November had finally given way to December.

As Rob finished up, he got a knock on his door from Joey, who stepped inside, carrying mail. "Some mail for ya, Rob~"

Rob got up and accepted the gaggle of letters from Joey; one was clearly junk, the other was a notice from State Farm, and he also got a big bubble mailer. Closer scrutiny of the package revealed the name "Sam Martin" from Williamstown, New York. A smile instantly curled up on Rob's face as he accepted it from his husband.

"Thank you Joey!"

"You should check out the Christmas tree Alvin snagged up. It's real pretty~"

"I'll be up in a bit Joey." Rob nodded.

"Take your time~" the Doberman smiled. He gave Rob a kiss on his cheek and went back upstairs.

Rob sat back down at his desk and opened up the bubble mailer. Inside, he found a number of printed photographs, and a handwritten letter from Sam. Rob found that the young kid's nascent cursive was getting so much better. He was getting the knack at it.

"Dear Rob,

Hope you're doing well back in Newark! Since our last

letter, I've been doing well up here in my new home

in Williamstown. No school in this area because of

the sickness going around. Still doing school on my

laptop. Haven't really been able to make too many

friends because of what's going on- but I have Cody

to play video games with! I've been enjoying it here.

Very quiet.

I hope you like these photos I've printed for you. I shot

some of these with the Ektachrome you gave me, and

Uncle Jake bought me some other kind of Kodak film,

Porta 400, fine grain. I like that a lot!

Miss you a lot, Rob. Take care!

Your friend,

Sam".

Rob sat the letter down, feeling happy. He looked over at the photos Sam had given him. One was a wide angle picture of his house, which was a two story, white home with dark green shutters, and a nice looking front porch. Another picture was of his cousin, Aunt and Uncle, posing at a Christmas tree farm. Flipping through, Rob found a picture of Sam smiling with their Christmas tree. Rob leaned back and reflected on it for a moment. He planned on framing the picture of Sam, to add to his photographs on the wall.

Leaning forward, Rob grabbed some letterhead and his blue felt pen, to write a response back to him.

"12/1/20

Dear Sam,

Thank you so much for your letter and photos-

you did an excellent job! Porta 400 is a great

medium speed film for portrait use- hence the

name. I sometimes have used it, when I need

a good C-41 film. I also recommend Ektar 100

if you got good light conditions.

Glad to hear that you're getting used to New York-

pretty state- much better than Akron! Me and Joey

hope to come see you in a few months- if/when things

get safer. In the mean time, continue having fun with

your cousin, and getting used to things. I promise you

that me and Joey will send you a nice Christmas present.

Tell your aunt and uncle me and Joey said 'hi'."

Rob started to write a formal "Sincerely", but he paused, creating a bit of a blot on the paper. He instead wrote "Your friend", a much more informal response to the kid.

"Your friend, Rob."

He folded his letter up and was reaching for an envelope, when the telephone rang. Rob sat his letter and envelope down, and found that it was Newark City Schools calling him. Rob grumbled and picked it up.

"Rob Barion speaking."

"Rob! Hey...it's Doug Schultz..."

Rob grew quiet for a moment, his face souring. "What do you want."

The superintendent of the school district sounded rather hesitant, and embarrassed talking to Rob. "Soooo....I'm not sure if you heard about what happened...but there was a serious electrical short circuit that kinda destroyed two computer labs and part of the high school backbone... and we kind of need those computers when classes resume...hopefully...in January or February..."

"And let me fucking guess, you want me to be generous and write you a check so you can get new servers and workstations, right?"

"Well...actually...yes..." Doug awkwardly admitted with a hesitant laugh.

Rob leaned back in his seat and chuckled, slowly. "God...you pathetic little Jew..."

"...you got it."

"Rob...well...thank you! Look I'm sorry about everything that happened earlier this year and-"

"Spare me the apology. I don't need to hear you eat crow." Rob cut him off. "I'll pay for it...but I'm picking the workstations and servers... you give me the specs."

"Absolutely!"

"E-mail me the list ASAP." Rob commanded. "Bye."

Rob put the phone down and fumbled his lips around. He sealed his letter to Sam in an envelope and jotted their addresses down, grabbed his outlines and left his office to go meet up with Maverick.

Hopping into his Tahoe, Rob took off and left Krebs Addition, pulling out onto Granville Street, to go to the OSU Newark campus. Rob came up to the red light at Granville and 21st, and waited there. As he waited, he took notice of an orange truck pulling up at the intersection with a huge trailer hitched to it, heading southbound down 21st. A honk of a horn got Rob's attention, as he saw a bunch of people waving at him. It was then that Rob recognized them as the Cotswold family- the family of Dobermans he had helped on the side of I-77. It brought a smile to his face, seeing the work truck he once owned in Akron, finding a new purpose with the family and their painting business. Rob rolled his window down and waved at them in return. The light turned green for Rob and he passed by, waving further before slipping from view down Granville street.

---

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the bike path. While the sun glowed brilliantly in the western sky, through the naked trees of the woodland, a few patchy clouds overhead spat snow flurries, providing an interesting backdrop for Rob's video shoot.

Rob walked with his best friend Maverick, the buff Russian husky lugging Rob's camera, and his U-Matic tape deck around on his burly frame. Rob carried the tripod in his grip. They walked along the bike path, looking for the perfect setting for Rob's video speech.

"This will be the first time we're using the XC-B20P for an official video." Rob chuckled. "I feel bad, because you restored it for my birthday!"

"A lot's been going on this year." Maverick chuckled back in a cynical way. "You and me both."

"That's putting it nicely." Rob laughed. "I'm curious to the performance of those Mixed-Field Plumbicons."

"Mixed-field, Low Capacity, Diode-Gun tubes." Maverick added. "I think they look good when I tested it- and they have the same registration and lag stability as the Saticon version, the B-10 model. It's one of the nicer Sharp cameras..."

"Heh, I thought your XC-900 looked nice."

"Just tweak the gamma a bit and it puts out as nice a picture as a HL-79~"

"Indeed."

"Sony's are the ones that give a bit of a weird colorimetry. I think the BVP-3 is fine, but some of their other models don't reproduce fur tones and shading properly. They lean towards a more reddish hue."

"Sony also had bad caps in the eighties."

"Oh my god...that too..." Maverick cringed. "So many caps to change."

"Heh, at least they're not paper caps like the TK-76A..."

"Nope, nope, nope..." Maverick shook his head and laughed.

"Regardless...I hope workers take this with acceptance..." Rob pursed his lips. "Not that we've pissed off enough people this year."

"It had to be done. What do you say?"

"The ends justify the means, Mav-O."

"Exactly."

"Just a shame- that's all."

"Understandable, Rob."

Rob found the perfect backdrop on the bike path, where it came to a fork and split off. Rob sat the tripod up, and Maverick bolted the camera down and fired it up, where they waited to let the tubes warm up. Rob glanced over his notes and discussed how he wanted to shoot it with Mav, who gave his own opinions and thoughts. Rob clipped on a wireless microphone, and Maverick got the receiver and recorder ready for capture.

"We'll try this in one take. We'll see what I can pull out of my ass~"

"Hey you should be a champ at that."

"Shut up, Mav."

"Let's do take one~ Action!"

Rob stood at the crossroad of the bike path, his leather gloved paws clasped together in front. Rob was dressed for the dour occasion in his gray wool jacket and a dark blue sweater beneath. His papakha kept his head warm.

"United Barev Industries is at a crossroads. As a company, and as individuals, we are all faced with unique challenges and exigencies that stem from this tragic national crisis. In challenging times we must make tough calls that, may cause short term pain, but offer long term strategies for success. Our actions and sacrifices today, will determine our future, as he navigate a perilous time. As this year has unfolded, United Barev has responded to the challenges the Coronavirus epidemic has laid on this nation. We've shut down, we've restarted, we've introduced strict cleaning measures to protect workers. Unfortunately, these measures could not forestall an economic slump, that has cut back orders, and reduced demand for our cargo logistics with Centoh. Because of the reduced operating revenue, and a series of unfortunate quality control issues, cumulating in the accidental death of a well respected engineer, the company has collectively entered the red. To reduce the financial hemorrhaging, myself, and Maverick Tokarev, made the difficult decision to lay off five hundred employees, trim back overtime, and wages. Sadly that means, yes, the yearly Christmas bonus will have to be eliminated this year. I'm sorry to the people who were depending on that bonus, but it had to be done in the name of austerity."

Rob paused for just a moment.

"Despite these temporary cuts, myself and Maverick have agreed to make three fundamental changes to our company, two of which, in the policies and procedures. To start, I am assigning all employee relations, and the operations of manufacturing plants, a-la, Barev One, to Maverick Tokarev. I will be stepping away from that role, as I feel Maverick has a unique understanding, and knowledge in managing employee relations. I will be focusing on running the company as a whole day to day. Adjustment number two is a change in the policy of drug and alcohol addiction. As originally created, workers who were caught under the influence at work, and failed a drug or alcohol test were summary terminated. As of today, December the first, the new policy and procedure for addiction, will be that the company will pay for treatment for the employee in full. In recent events in my life, I have come to understand the pain and darkness addiction does to people. And terminating employees who have failed a drug and or alcohol test, would only further the cycle of abuse further. Employees who want help, can get help, paid for by Barev..."

"Lastly, due to the dangers of this pandemic, United Barev will pay all employees should they choose to get vaccinated, if and when a vaccine is approved for use. While I am cautiously optimistic that a vaccine will be approved and be safe, I am not going to put all my hopes on it. I want you to be aware that what we're witnessing today, could very well be the new normal for a long time- we might not get a vaccine anytime soon, or not at all. This pathogen might be lurking for us for years to come. The United States has already had three hundred and eighty three thousand casualties from Covid-19, and we're still faced with almost two thousand deaths a day. We must stay strong and be safe, in this tragically unfolding emergency. To conclude, we are faced with an impasse, and tough decisions have to be made. And our actions today, determine our future, tomorrow, at the crossroad. Thank you."

Maverick gave a thumbs up and hit pause. "Great work!"

"That was a bloviating piece of shit." Laughed Rob.

"You did a great job."

"Yeah, it was right from the heart, I'll admit." Rob chuckled.

After discussing a bit more about business, Rob and Maverick ultimately went their separate ways. Rob wanted to take a moment to himself and go for a walk, amongst the blustery snow flurries. Rob walked on, alone, as he soon grew lost in his introspection about everything that had happened.

Twelve months before, Rob's entire life went upside down with the airport accident. It took him months to recover from it, had multiple flare-ups of old injuries, and just when he was at the cusp of getting better, he caught pneumonia and was bedridden for over a month. Then his legal problems came back to bite him, and it ultimately sent him to Akron, where Rob felt that he learned some valuable life lessons by befriending that kid and his ailing family.

In the short time span that he knew Isaac and Kayla, Rob felt that they indirectly taught him that people were inherently good, even if they suffered from self-destructive behavior. Sure, Isaac was technically a criminal; he sold drugs on the side, abused drugs, but Rob took pity on him. That was all he knew, from growing up in a broken sad home. Kayla was a kind girl who couldn't overcome the disadvantages that life threw at her. Rob now felt more happy that despite his own miserable childhood, he had grandparents and an uncle to fall back on for love and support. Isaac and Kayla had none of that. Rob suspected that he was probably the only person who ever cared for them in adulthood. Sam taught him that unconditional kindness went a long way, and that made Rob feel comfortable that a bright future lay ahead for him. He could no longer look at the drugged out, tweakers that littered Newark as just pests and an annoyance; now he saw it as a really sad result of a breakdown of society, the ripple effects of Newark's deindustrialization leaving people in the dust.

Most importantly, Rob pondered about whether he truly made a difference in Sam's life. Or anyone's life, honestly? He looked back and remembered the people he had helped over the years, including adopting Felix into his family, or taking Tony in after he became Felix's boyfriend. Rob wondered if he truly made a difference in their life himself? Or did he just provide enough monetary and material support that they figured it out on their own? Or maybe they were destined to overcome their problems inevitably? Rob wasn't sure.

The sun began to set on the hills of Morgan Manor, off in the distance. Rob took a seat at a big oak tree in a field, just off the bike path and near the little Log Pond Run. He sat and just observed the colorful sky and glare of the setting sun. He thought about what the future lay for him. He had finally regained his health back, and felt better than ever all year, but the future seemed bleak. There was a raging disease pandemic that killed 383,000 people, and almost two thousand more people were dying a day from it. There was anger and unrest over the bitter election, there was anger all through the nation, people pitted against each other. The nation felt Balkanized, it felt threatened, as if on the verge of disintegrating into another civil war. The economy was sputtering badly, with no end in sight. Rob thought about that, but couldn't help but go back to ponder if he truly made a difference anywhere. He felt like such a conflicted, haunted person, tormented by his past still. He was a foul mouthed, gun toting, murderer, even if the law vindicated him. He could invoke great fear or hatred in others. He was just like Nixon- assuming the worst in others and bringing the worst out in them. Certainly nobody thought of him as a true hero. He doubted that he made a difference anywhere.

A little nudge stirred Rob from his deep thoughts. He looked around, wondering what that was, when he saw a young mallard duck look at him. Rob blinked a few times and was surprised by the presence of a green headed drake. He didn't look that old, with an iridescent green head, and feathers on his wings. Rob noticed that he only stood on one webbed foot, the other was held up a bit and looked deformed, as if something had hurt his leg. The duck let Rob look a bit closer, and his leg bore the scars as though something tight had wrung itself around his orange leg. It then hit Rob that this was the little duckling he saved from drowning many months before, and he had grown up to become a drake.

"You're the little fella I saved, didn't you?" Rob asked him in a silly way.

The duck tilted his head at Rob and let out a soft quack.

"Oh buddy...I'm so glad you made it." Smiled Rob. "I wasn't going to let you drown."

Rob gently reached out a paw, and was surprised that the mallard let Rob pet his green head. He seemed to like it, and rubbed the top of his head against his leather clad paw. To Rob's surprise, he even jumped up on his lap, which took Rob by complete surprise. He made himself comfortable on his lap and sat there calmly with Rob. The wolf-hybrid chuckled and continued to pet him. It was then that Rob felt that he did make a difference somewhere.

"Buddy...there's so much going wrong in the world...it scares me. But hey, at least there's a tomorrow. Something to hope for~"

Rob wasn't sure what the future had in store for him. He felt uncertain with everything going wrong around him. But as he watched the sun set, he took solace that it would rise again tomorrow, and it would be a new day, a new chance for something hopeful in the world.

With his new feathered friend, Rob sat reflecting some more, watching the wheels of life turn all around him.