There the man was, the man who had ruined my life. His immaculate suit and tie. His handsome hair and cleanly shaved beard. I opened my mouth in a vain attempt to speak. He delicately silenced me with his fingers and I knee I had lost. Though my fear was great, his charisma was greater. Oh the chilling aura that the man exuded. I lay, waiting, waiting for those magical words that would destroy my life. He stood there, tall and proud, his fingers to my lips, and taking in the quivering mess that was me. He knew I had come for revenge and he resolved to enjoy the destruction of my resolve. I felt my spirit slipping and began to cry. Oh the bastard he was, he procured a hanker chief from the pocket of his dashing suit. Oh the aroma! It smelled of water and firetrucks. I lay there, ensnared in his arms, mesmerized. And he took that as his cue for his words that had ended many before me. He said to me in such a soothing and delicate manner “Walter”. I looked at the hanker chief and froze in fear. Walter Clements was written on it. “This isn’t possible!” I exclaimed out of shock, forgetting the almighty God that Walter was. “My grandfather defeated you many years ago!” “Ahh, I remember him” Walter said in his divine voice. “He was not the first, and he will not be the last of your bloodline that I shall conquer.” Oh the adulation I felt for this terrifying man. Walter Clements came to me and whispered in my ear so elegantly that I almost fainted right then and there, in the arms of my grandfather’s killer. He whispered to me “Walter”