Walter's life is about to hit the windshield. Every effort has been made. Every avenue exhausted. His wife doesn't know. No one knows. No one except Walter, and the cigar-chomping man who lords over the weak in that grubby little back room off the alley behind the pawn shop. At first they come eager, then determined. That's when he hooks them. That's how he hooked Walter. With the hook set he takes everything. Destroys them. They come until it's too late, then he comes for them. He'll come for Walter soon, but Walter has another idea. Walter has a rope and a chair and a sturdy place to tie off to high overhead in the grand old house he can't save. It will be better this way. Better for his wife but especially better for Walter because a long time ago he did something much worse. Something no one else knows. He deserves to die. It's just, but circumstance is about to throw him another curve. His deconstruction is not yet complete.