Buckley Reece hated Remuneration Days.

Buck had been a Searcher for ten years, and he'd suffered through a lot of boring days. He'd had plenty of stressful days, too, as even the simplest cases involved delicate negotiations, and giving careful answers to the inevitable slew of questions. When he was chasing down rumors far out in the Breaks, he'd even had his share of days that were downright dangerous.

But Remuneration Days were disingenuous days, and that he could barely stomach.

Buck had eleven of these days on his calendar, and this was the one he hated the most.

He pulled up outside of the little town they called Speck, at the far edge of the Ring. 'Town' was generous, Buck decided. Really generous.

Buck picked up the silver plate from the passenger seat. He frowned at a dingy spot, before doing his best to shine it with his shirt tail.

He went around to the back of his van, and opened the top box from a big pile of boxes. He carefully arranged the prescribed items on the plate: gold nuggets, grapes, chocolate, and bullets. The rest of the payment, mainly food, seeds, fabric, and gasoline, he left in the van. He'd get the town boys to move the heavy stuff. He sure wasn't doing it.

Buck didn't fret much about leaving the van unattended. There really was nothing out here.

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He fit the silver lid over the plate, and carried it in one hand like a tray. He plastered a big fake smile on his face, taking pride in the fact that you'd never know it was fake, and marched into town.

The residents were already lined up on what passed for a street in Speck. Their anxious glances toward the van led him to believe that last year's payment was already used up. Not that things looked to have improved much around here.

The parents stood at the end of the line like a couple about to be married. Mom was still pretty, by edge of the Ring standards. Dad's hair was starting to go. Buck had always thought he looked like the sort of guy who would shank his own brother over a gallon of fuel.

Buck bowed, and lifted the lid with a ridiculous flourish. Mom and Dad's eyes went right to the plate. Even the greediest parents managed to eke out a few questions about their daughter. Not these two. Mom practically snatched the plate from Buck, which was both rude and unnecessary. Dad shook his hand.

A few folks clapped as he walked away. A couple of older boys followed him to help collect the rest of the payment. One, a tall, lanky kid, asked Buck how she was doing. Buck fished a photograph from his pocket, and showed it to him. The kid smiled in a sad sort of way, and gave him a little nod. Buck was glad that at least one person here didn't seem to be absolute garbage.

But he'd be gladder still to get out of here, as he always was.

The boys emptied the back of the van, and Buck said something charming about seeing everyone this time next year. He turned the key, and stepped on the gas pedal.

Eight years ago, he left this place with a little blonde girl named Sara Starling. She was a pretty little thing, so scared she was shaking. She had looked out the back window long after Speck dissolved in the distance.

At some point, she realized that she was better than this place, which Buck thought was a decidedly good thing. She wasn't calling herself Sara anymore.

She called herself Blaspheme.