[ WP ] An assassin receives an unusual contract : a man on death row already slated for execution .

Thank god for America's endless appeals system. An entire year cultivating a spotless background, another year to complete the application and review process, followed by another three years to gain enough trust with the warden for promotion to Sonora, the nickname of DuMonte County penitentiary's death row. 
 
 Five prisoners were under my charge, all of them here for a decade or more, waiting their turn in the chair. Only one of them mattered, though, and ol' Curtis, ironically, was the only man that was probably innocent. Innocent regarding his indictment, of course. He'd done things. Mean things. Cruel things. And that's why I was here, working a long plan job, for free. And all the time and money I'd spent to get this point were well spent -- finding this man who rebranded himself a `` Curtis'' and was a ghost for thirty years. Digging up this fossil was a victory sweeter than any paycheck. 
 
 He was a pleasant enough bastard, I suppose. The eight week window I gave myself to cement my cover went by too quick. I learned much of this man, the women he'd loved and wronged, men he'd killed, the countries he'd seen. It was fascinating, the way he saw the world. `` If you have a choice, look at the two outcomes, because there is only ever two.'' 
 
 `` Only two? That seems a stretch.'' 
 
 `` No, no young man. It only matters if you choose to act, or choose not to. Your success does not matter, because your choice is what makes you a free man.'' 
 
 He laughed, a soft, grandfatherly laugh. `` You do n't believe me,'' he said. 
 
 `` No, Curtis, ca n't say I do.'' 
 
 `` Look at this then: think,'If I do this thing, will it cause harm?' then ask yourself,'If I do not do this thing, will it cause more harm?' You see? Your choice is your desire to make a difference, and your desire makes you a man. It do n't matter how sweet your momma thinks your heart is, it only matters what steps you take and what rules you break before meeting the Almighty.'' 
 
 And to be honest, I'd never looked at it that way. A killer, a professional Grim Reaper, a Fixer of problems, and a man that was neither pestered nor insulted by anyone who knew my reputation, had never once sat down and thought to myself `` Is any of this the right way to live?'' Those words stuck with me, and it was during one of those long night shifts I decided, sure, I'll quit. I'll do better. I have the money, the education, the means, and I will make my path a righteous one. 
 
 And when the time came, and I was alone on Sonora, I came to his cell, and opened the door, sitting myself at the bench across, facing him. Taking a cigarette, lighting it, and passing it to this man, my prisoner, my charge, my... friend, I told him how he had changed my life. He smiled, his eyes watering. 
 
 `` Thank you Curtis, for you've led me to a brighter path. You have changed my life, and for that I thank you.'' 
 
 And as we embraced, and the knife slid into his back, he did not scream. He did not shout. There was a gasp, and a shudder. He struggled to stand and our eyes met, his a cloud of confusion and sadness. My own tears, surprising even me, fell onto his cheek while he sank to the floor. I gazed at this man who saved me, saddened that I must hurt the one person who had helped me the most, regretful that I was the one who cut his time short. I tossed the knife away, knelt, then took his hand in mine. The least I could do was tell him the truth, about how I felt, how much our few short weeks meant to me. 
 
 `` Thank you, Dad.'' 

