[ WP ] `` I ca n't believe you 've never met ( X ) . He talks about you all the time . ''

`` I ca n't believe you've never met him. He talks about you all the time.'' He sits there, gun in his lap, smiling at me. That cocky smile, the *I'm better than you are, and you're completely fucked* sort of smile. I try to respond, but of course, when you have tape around your mouth and sack over your head, speaking coherently is an issue. `` Really? That's a shame, considering you ruined his life.'' I feel a sudden breeze hit my face as the bag is ripped from me. We're in an apartment building - one of those New York high rise flats, just been built - empty. The floor to ceiling windows are pushed open. I shiver. 
 
 My name is Dante; I'm a, well, I WAS a lawyer. I worked for one of the largest law firms in Manhattan, and somehow, after two drinks in my local bar, I ended up here with no memory of current events. None of my clients had ever been called'Sizemore'. 
 
 The man picks up a picture and thrusts it towards me. I stare at it for a few moments, then blink repeatedly. My heart sinks, and my face too, apparently. 
 He picks up the gun. `` Goodbye, Mister Sizemore''.
