Sam spent the next day trailing the mysterious bottle cap shooting man. He was not quite sure why, but something was drawing him to follow him. It could have just been curiosity, because he seemed to be an intriguing fellow, but Sam felt like there was something special about him.

Sam started the day off by watching as news vans kept pulling up to the junk yard, trying to get interviews with the man. It was apparent that he did not wish to be interviewed, as he kept turning them away.

“Why won't you give us an interview? You'd be praised as a hero,” some of the reporters pleaded.

“I'm just a lone wolf, I ain't got time for this attention. Get on, I have places to be,” came his response.

“Lone wolf,” the reporters looked at each other and shared a laugh, “We can make you someone you're not. Right now, you're nothing more than a junkyard dog. Please, just give us an interview, we need the ratings.”

The man raised his bottle cap rifle threateningly, which was enough to scare the reporters back to their studio vans.

“This guy is a psycho, let's just go.”

With that, the man was alone again in his junkyard. However, he did not stay there long. He picked up a leather satchel and was on the move.

Sam stealthily lagged behind him, trying to see what he was up to. Was he involved with crimes and needed to be taken down? He seemed to be a very dangerous individual, so gathering intel on him only felt right.

His first stop was... a soup kitchen. Sam watched as the man walked inside, greeted the homeless people, and proceeded to help the volunteers.

Nothing very criminal about this, unless its for a cover-up?

Sam ate lunch across the way and watched and waited for the man to move on to his next destination.

Soon enough, the man finished up his service, and moved down the street. This time, his stop happened to be a convenience store.

Ah. Here it is. This guy is gonna rob a store. How cliché.

The man walked inside, and in not time came back out with a six-pack of colas, much like the one he drank last night. He popped a cap off, slid it into his pocket, and sipped the cola as he went on his way yet again.

Okay. That wasn't stolen. He had a grocery bag and a receipt.

The man's next stop was a graveyard. It was becoming increasingly obvious that this was not the daily routine of a felon, but of a normal, thoughtful man.

Sam watched as the man went to two gravestones that were side by side. He opened his satchel and laid what looked like a metallic bouquet of flowers on the ground near them. They looked as though they were created from metal scraps out of the junkyard, if Sam had to guess.

Finally, the man returned to his 'home' in the junkyard.

Nothing odd here. Guess I'll just---

“You mind telling me why you were following me all day?”

Oh no.