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You decide to execute Señor Ramirez. You will never allow a man to cross you like that. Your gun flies up from your hip, bullet already firing as it swings up. It exits the end, barrelling out straight towards the man who had previously been your employer. He tries to jump out of the way, but trips on the leg of the chair in which he was sitting. Unable to evade the lead flying through the air, it penetrates deep into his skull. Blood flies everywhere, splattering everything within three feet of the man. Not even a scream had been able to escape his open mouth as his limp body falls to the ground. It is not the first blood stain on the yellowing floor, but it most distinct, and by far the largest.

You are overcome by a sense of freedom, finally free from the chains that had bound you for four years. You were a free man, finally skilled enough and able to do whatever you pleased. But you know this will most likely end very quickly.

Turn around.