Thunder crashed overhead though no flash could be seen. No one could see the sky from the city, be it day or night. The sun may shine, but you’d be hard pressed to notice it through the constant fog belched forth by the factories. The overcast of industrial clouds meant most citizens kept their lights on during the day anyway. They might not help much, but it was better than nothing.

The bar was shoved off in the dark corner of a dark hole that passed as an ally off a side street downtown. The type of place that you had to know about to find, the type of place you’d best have a local with you. A man stood outside a few yards from the door doing what he could to check it out without looking suspicious. He kept himself mostly hidden inside the protective sheath of his trench coat, but so did the vast majority of the citizens of this pit the world passed by. Satisfied, he pressed hard on the steel door that creaked a warning to all inside. “Outsider” it seemed to say.

Inside, no soul looked up. The bar was a dive; the type of place occupied by serious people with serious drinking to do. A flickering monitor near the door claimed to have a variety of songs to play yet either none of the inhabitants were interested in lightening the mood, or the jukebox worked as well as everything else here. Not even the bartender seemed interested in the new patron.

The outsider scanned the room, choosing a spot on the bar next to a table occupied by two men. Factory workers by the look of them, but in this part of town they could be just about anybody. The bartender walked over to him with a sense of obligation. He didn’t want to be here. The job couldn’t pay enough to make up for all the things he had been through here, but no one in this neighborhood had alternatives.

The two men at the table were having an intense conversation completely ignored by the few other patrons.

“I’m telling you, John, ain’t no one made money of a scam like that in twenty years. You don’t cheat AgraTech like that.” A short red-headed man was getting more passionate about his position as the beer flowed on. The other man, dark haired with pale, sharp features, drank more slowly than his companion.

“They won’t know a damned thing, Michael. Not unless you or I go tellin’ anyone. If we keep our mouths shut, who’s to know the difference?” Both men were either just drunk enough to not care that others were around or were relying on the patrons to mind their own business.

“At least think this thing through, John. ProStar is offering you a lot of money to do what exactly?”

“They’re offerin’ to pay for copies of the production specs for the new well drillin’ rigs.”

“What would a security company want with that?”

“Christ, Michael, how should I know? I just build the damned things, I don’t know the first thing about business. Maybe someone paid them to get it. Maybe ProStar is being used as a cover for a competitor who wants in the industry.”

“What competitor would that be? AgraTech controls the whole damned farm industry. Ain’t no one out there who can compete, least not without running into unfortunate accidents or being bought out.”

“I can’t pass this opportunity up, Michael. The money’s too good. I could get away from here. Run from the States to South America or somewhere. They’ll never find me there.”

“Do you hear what you’re sayin’, John? You know how these corporations are. They’re bigger than the government. No one tells them what they can or can’t do. They’d either pay off the police wherever you went or just gun you down and be done with it. You can’t hide from The Firms.”

John was growing more agitated as the conversation went on. “So I should pass it up, then? The only chance for Susan and I to have a good life for our kids? We could retire on that money, never have to show up in public again. The kids could get a degree and make real money for themselves. What kind of father would I be if I said no?”

“A live one, that’s what you’d be! How long do you really think you could get away? A year? Two years? Ten? You can’t hide forever and when they find you, they’ll take it out on you and your family. Don’t do that to your kids, John. Megan and Ryan are good kids. They deserve to have a life, and a father, even if it’s in this hell hole.”

John hung his head, thinking hard to himself. Michael watched him carefully, looking for signs that he’d convinced his friend. Neither of them noticed when the man at the bar finished his beer, nor did they notice when he pulled a pistol from his jacket, nor when he swiveled around to get a good look at them. They paid no attention to him until he placed the pistol to John’s head and fired.

Michael’s eyes went wide with horror as he reeled backwards, knocking over his chair in a desperate attempt to get away from the shooter. A second quickly-fired shot went into the back of Michael’s head. The bullet didn’t exit. The man picked up the remnants of John’s drink, looking around the room for anyone ready to make a scene. He slowly finished the beer amidst a long silence, broken only by the bartender, unconsciously cleaning a glass.

“Cleanin’s ‘spensive, these parts.”

The shooter looked at him for a long moment, but the bartender had seen his like before. He pulled a hundred dollar bill from his pocket, setting it on the bar as he left. He could hear sirens outside, but there were always sirens in this city. They weren’t for him. No one who cared saw anything and those who saw anything didn’t care.