The sky over Nebraska was the color of a bruised plum, heavy with a storm that refused to break. Sam sat on a plastic crate outside a derelict gas station, the wind whistling through the gaps in the rusted corrugated roof. He was smoking a cigarette, the ember the only bright thing for miles.

Then the car appeared—a silver Mercedes, wildly out of place in this wasteland of corn and dust. It skidded to a halt, and Bill stepped out.

Bill was a man who had once owned the town. He had been the mayor, the judge, the law. Now, he was a fugitive in a sweat-stained shirt, his eyes wide with the terror of a man who had finally run out of road.

Sam stood up, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder. He had been paid five thousand dollars by a group of Bill's former associates to bring him back—dead or alive.

"I can give you ten thousand," Bill gasped, clutching a briefcase to his chest. "Twenty. Thirty. Just let me get to the border. I have accounts in Switzerland. I can make you a rich man, Sam."

Sam looked at the briefcase, then at the man. He didn't care about the money. He had spent his life in the dirt, fighting wars for people who didn't know his name. He felt a sudden, inexplicable wave of pity for Bill—not because Bill was a good man, but because Bill was so profoundly pathetic.

"Just go," Sam said, stepping aside. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

Bill didn't hesitate. He scrambled into the car and tore away, leaving a cloud of grit in the air.

Sam sat back down on his crate and finished his cigarette. He knew he had just signed his own death warrant. In his line of work, "mercy" was just another word for "breach of contract."

Ten minutes later, a black SUV pulled up. Two men stepped out. They didn't ask questions, and they didn't offer money. They simply walked up to Sam and shot him twice in the chest.

As Sam lay on the cracked pavement, watching the plum-colored sky finally break into rain, he thought about the silver Mercedes disappearing over the horizon. He didn't feel regret. He just felt a cold, hollow amusement that in the end, the only thing he had successfully traded was his life for a stranger's freedom.

*** OTMES_v2_Code: [M1:10.0, M3:5.0, N2:0.9, K1:0.4, TI:82.0, theta:270deg]