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Chris didn't know it, but he died today. With a simple squeeze, he ended two lives. It wasn't out of hate or greed. Not his, at least. It was a job, a mission, an unfortunate side effect of his profession. Though he'd never met the real Rabar, over the next year the man would come to him again and again, haunting his every breath. Did he have a wife? A child? Grandchildren? Each time was different, though strangely the same. In the end, it didn't matter. With one hand on the wheel and the other gripping a bottle, Chris closed his eyes and pushed the pedal to the floor. Hope this isn't too late to be submitted. Feedback is always welcome.