"Yes. That's them." Walter says in a blank, expressionless tone as you walk in the interrogation room. Walter's consciousness was shifting between thoughts and reality as he took note of your face, he began to tug at his trench coat, ensuring it wasn't a dream this time. Walter had been caught by the police yet again, when they offered a friend to phone, he gave them a sloppy drawing of you, somehow, it was enough to find you.

"Who are you?" Walter rasps. His voice a gravelly symphony of nothing, nothing at all. You've never seen this man once in your life, not counting the endless amount of news articles made on him.