 Oh man, I really messed up. I mean, I really, really messed up. It all started so fast, and it was over so suddenly that I hardly even processed what had happened until long after the fact. Let me start over. I'm rambling now. You see, I was driving home late last night. I hadn't even really gone out to do anything. I was just driving to pass the time. It would storm me and again late, so there weren't many people about. I saw maybe one or two other cars the entire time I was out there. Anyway, I was driving a little faster than I should have. The speed limit was 45, I was going 50. The steady beat of the rain had put me into a bit of a trance. And truthfully, I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. My thoughts were occupied by my recent breakup, my recent loss of employment, and my budding alcoholism. That's when it happened. Someone stumbled into the road from the rain-slicked darkness beyond my headlights. By the time my brain registered that there was a person in the street, it was already too late. I was going too fast already, and I hit them. Hard. I did what you aren't supposed to do in the rain. I slammed on my brakes for all the good it would do. Of course, the blood and the rainwater on my tires left little room for traction. And so after a pirouette that ended in my car slamming into a mail drop box, I jumped out and ran back to the crumpled figure lying in the street. I could tell before I'd even reached them that they were already dead. Their limbs were contorted and broken, bent at angles that caused me to wince as I traced them back to their owner. A middle-aged man with light brown skin and dark black hair. He smelled of iron and booze. Blood streamed from his wide-open eyes and mouth. And as his dead eyes met mine, I was stricken with the impression that he'd been taken completely by surprise at his sudden accident. Shit. I breathed out the curse through clenched teeth, bringing my hands to my head and shivering, both from rising anxiety and cold from the rain. Shit. Shit. Shit. I said again, beginning to panic. The first thing I needed to do was call the police. There was really nothing else I could do. With shaking hands, I withdrew myself from my pocket and slowly punched in the numbers, clenching with every slight vibration of the phone that came with each press. Okay, okay. I whispered to myself, trying to calm down as I brought the phone up to my ear. While the line rang, I looked at the man's body again. It looked smaller somehow, like a sponge that had been wrung out. That the man's blood mixed with the rainwater and began to flow into a nearby drain certainly didn't help with that awful comparison. I turned away, the sight of the man I'd just killed causing revulsion in me. That revulsion, bringing with it an overpowering guilt. This was a life I'd just ended, a life that would have continued if I'd never climbed into my car and decided to go for a cruise. What right did I have to feel repulsed even by the sight of him? Was it that I should be spared the burden of witnessing the consequences of my actions? My stomach turned, my head throbbed, my joints ached in the cold, but still I couldn't bring myself to look back at the body. Instead, I simply stared at my car. There was a slight dent on the rear passenger's side door where it had hit the drop box, but beyond that, it was none the worse for wear. What really bothered me, however, was the blood on the hood and on the tires that I could see. It was everywhere, like it'd been sprayed all over the car from an aerosol can. The rain did little to wash it off, I could see rivulets of crimson streaming down the front and sides, but it seemed an endless font of blood from which they came. The sight caused me to gag and I instead stared down at my feet. The phone was still ringing, why wasn't anybody picking up? I waited for a few more seconds, then hung up and dialed again. When no one picked up, I dialed the third time, then I finally heard a click. 9-1-1, what's your emergency? A deep raspy voice brought the words from somewhere behind me. I was so scared, I teared up. Slowly, I turned back towards where the voice came from, back towards the body in the street. A thin young man in a black business suit sat crouched over the body, looking down at the dead man, with an apathetic, bored look as he took a drag from his cigarette. Haha, gotcha pretty good, huh? He looked up at me, his mischievous smirk causing his cigarette to roll to the other side of his mouth. I was dumbfounded, still holding the phone to my ear, my mouth open. Phew, I finally managed to stammer. It's, it's not, I was just the man frowned, holding up his hand to stop me. Easy kid, I'm not here to cause you any trouble. He looked down at the body again. I'm just here to verify. The man clicked his tongue, then rose to his feet, still looking down at the body. I simply stood there, still holding the phone up to my ear like an idiot. I watched as the mysterious suited figure looked around for a few seconds, finally laying his eyes on my car. He began walking towards it, glancing back at me over his shoulder as he went. You know, there's no one coming. You can put your phone up now. This will be quick. I did as he asked, somehow feeling like he was telling the truth. No one was coming. There would only be myself, this stranger, the dead man, and the pouring rain to disturb the stillness of the night. So who are you? I was surprised to hear myself speak, apparently regaining some of my composure. The man had reached my car by this point, walking around it slowly, as though he were inspecting it. Oh, I'm no one important. He said, you can just call me bub. I'm just doing my job. Just trying to find out how it all went down. I swallowed. Hard. I. Look, it was an accident. He just stumbled out into the street, and I was distracted. And the man held up his hand again, cutting me off. I'm not a cop, kid. I work for, well, I used to work for the guy you ran down with your car just now. You see, you killed my boss. And so now I have to piece together just what happened. He kept slowly walking around the car, coming to a stop just in front of a hood ornament. He leaned in, squinting at it. He said, no way, holy shit, no way. Bub was in stitches now, laughing uncontrollably as he doubled over, clutching his stomach and dropping his cigarette. I just stood and watched, confused and scared as ever, holy shit. Bub barely managed to get the words out between fits of laughter. That's hilarious. It was a few more painfully awkward seconds of rainfall and bellowing laughter before I got any sort of explanation. When he'd finally settled down, he turned to me. So I bet you have some questions, huh? I nodded, waiting for him to continue. Right. So here's the deal. That guy you just killed over there. He pointed to the body in the street, which had since shriveled to the point where it now looked like a mummy. He was, well, he was the devil, Satan, Lucifer, old scratch, whatever you want to call him. That's him there. Or, well, it was, anyway. I just stared at the man, not really sure whether he was crazy or just messing with me. So that's Satan, Lucifer. And you're telling me I just killed him with my shitty old Buick. I asked, Bub laughed again. I know man, isn't that just the funniest thing you've ever heard? Like, what the hell are the odds? I failed to find any amusement in the situation. Anyway, Bub continued, wiping some of the water from his face. Rule say, you're the new boss now. Job comes with plenty of real sweet benefits, immortality though, not invincibility as you've already seen. Pyrokinesis, limited precognition, psychokinesis, teleportation, flight, immunity to illnesses, both terminal and mundane, immeasurable wealth, mind power, demonic possession, summoning of servants both mortal and immaterial, dominion over, wait, wait, hold on. I cut him off. He looked at me, impatiently crossing his arms. What the hell are you talking about? I don't even believe in the devil or heaven or hell or any of that shit. We just need to call the police. I don't want it to look like. I trailed off as I looked over towards the body on the street. It was gone. The blood was still there, but the corpse had completely vanished, replaced by a few trace clumps of a powdery substance that was being washed away by the rain. Bub saw my shock and continued, look, I've had a long day already, and this is no doubt just going to create more work for me. Sure, we could do the whole prove your powers spiel. I could conjure a flaming skeleton or turn into a dragon or whatever. The look on your face tells me that you know I'm at least partially telling the truth. He was right. I did believe him. Not about all of it, sure, but whatever I'd hit with my car definitely wasn't human. There's no way it could have been. Well, I said trying to choose my next question carefully. Just how did I kill the devil with my car? Bub chuckled again, pointing to the hood ornament on my Buick. You see this? The metal that was used to make this was special, not just holy. It's one of a kind divine magic, power that came straight from the old man in the sky. Three wise men weren't guided by a star in the nativity story. It was a meteor. Very many know about this, but it's true. I looked at my Buick, piecing together what Bub was trying to say. Well, it seems some of the iron from the meteor managed to make its way into the ground somewhere, where it was mined out and turned into tools, piping, bridge supports, and car parts. So you see, your car here was one of the only things on the planet that could kill the devil, and as it just so happens, he got pissed drunk tonight and stumbled right in front of it. I shook my head and scoffed, a smile forming on my lips against my will. It really was unlikely, but if true, it was pretty funny. Right, so like I said, rules say you're the new boss, so you'd better get packing. King of Hell gets some pretty sweet digs, Island in the tropics, Castle in the Alps. Hell, you could even get yourself a steampunk fortress in the clouds. Sky's the limit. I rubbed my chin and thought, King of Hell, it's got a nice ring to it, and it's not like I had anything else going for me anyway. When do I start? I was surprised to hear myself ask. Bub smiled at me. You start tomorrow, kid. Or should I say, sire? There's paperwork to sort out, assets to arrange. You know how it goes. I didn't know how it went, but I nodded anyway. So if we're done here, I guess I'll send you home now. Bub raised his hand, preparing to snap his fingers. Oh, but I should tell you first. He flashed a wicked grin at me. Not all your employees have your best interests at heart. You'll be on their radar now, so do try to be careful. And if I were you, I'd hide that car of yours somewhere no one will ever find it. He snapped his fingers, and I was stood in front of my apartment complex. My Buick parked neatly in my usual space behind me. I suppose that leads me back to now. It's still night out, and I'm having trouble sleeping. I'm starting to think I've made a horrible mistake. So I put the question to all of you. Does anyone know how to run an empire? If so, give me a ring. I could sure use all the help I can get.