There's almost inaudible music playing in a room farther away. The smell is that of leather and old linen. It's dark, but coming to, he can make out some light coming from horizontal slits behind the silhouettes of coats.

Cal awakens fully, realizing he doesn't remember how he ended up in this closet. His hands and feet are bound, and face duct-taped around a few times. The sheer fear of the situation doesn't seem to hit him all at once, but rather in waves, with every moment becoming more real than the last. He thanks God he isn't claustrophobic, but isn't too thrilled about the premise of why he'd need thank him for it. After a few struggles to see if anything was loose, he began to contemplate what he should do. Before a full plan could hatch, the sliding closet doors fly open, with three times the light his eyes were used to, a dark figure rips him out onto a shag-carpeted bedroom.

Eyes adjusted, he looks around and meets the gaze of a 6'1", bald, two hundred pound (of muscle) man whose stature seemed oddly familiar. About to say something, Cal realized his mouth was taped, and waited to hear his kidnapper say something.

"You remember me, punk?" the bald man said, gruffly, "I'm the guy you spoke to on the phone."

He ripped the tape off of Cal's head, making three passes in front of his face, before freeing his speech.

"Took you a while to find me, huh?" Cal said, hoping this thug had a sense of humor.