"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

David stroked the cold polished metal of the hospital bed's frame. He looked down at the old man and smiled. "I have no trouble sleeping."

The old man struggled to inhale. "I know what you are. You're a Penny Pincher. You're one of the government's cost saving measures."

With a sigh, David stepped around the bed and adjusted the flat black tie looped around his neck. "The official position of the government is that the Penny Pinchers do not exist."

The old man fought for another breath and looked toward the closed door of his hospital room. "At least let my family arrive before you do it."

"They will be here soon enough," David answered. He eyed the readout on the medical equipment and placed his briefcase down on the old man's legs. He popped open both latches and pushed the briefcase open. He plucked two latex gloves from a small box inside his briefcase and pulled the gloves onto his hands. "You're dying. After an analysis of your cost to the taxpayers and other factors in your case, we've reached a decision."

"You're going to murder me," the old man said. The sound of his voice spoke more than the words. He accepted his fate.

"No," David said. He calmly opened another case inside his briefcase and uncoiled several wires. His latex shrouded fingers clipped the wires from his briefcase onto the wires leading to the old man's medical equipment. "Murder is a strong word. One I am not a fan of."

"What's it going to be, Penny Pincher? What's my obituary going to say?" Each word limped past the old man's lips, tripping on the tubes delivering oxygen blasts to his lungs.

"I don't write the headlines," David answered, preoccupied. He checked the readout on the machine and then from the old man's medical equipment. He pressed a button inside his briefcase and the medical equipment went dark.

"So this is how the government keeps its death squads disregarded as myth? Altering the equipment?"

"As far as this machine is concerned, sir, I was never here. In two minutes, an alarm will sound. Respiratory failure. They'll call it shortly after. I'm not involved."

"Not involved?" The old man coughed. "You're going to kill me."

"I don't kill people. I cut costs." David plucked a small black vial from his briefcase and screwed a tiny needle to the end. He gripped the old man's lip and pricked the inside of the man's mouth.

"So that's it?" the old man asked after David released him.

"That's it," David said. "You're just not cost-effective." He gathered his items and closed his briefcase.

Two minutes later, the alarm sounded.