Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter, Luther, Elementary, or Sherlock Holmes. I just borrowed some of the elements, though some of them are more obvious than others here in this short story.

Please note - rather than lose my drive for a story featuring my femHarry characterisation as Moriarty, I've decided to use Arthur Conan Doyle's structure of short stories. They'll show case various events of Moriarty's career and move up to Voldemort's death.

The streets of London were some of the best places to hide in plain sight. Always jam packed with cars and vans, crammed onto the streets until they resembled a pile of differently but brightly colored bricks littering a builder's yard these cars and vans could belong to anyone, and people sitting inside of them in the shadows of night were easy places to hide. On one night in particular, a man sat inside his car - a stolen Honda - and waited for her to appear. The man, Henry, had been staking this place out for months, when he had found her. He likened himself as a collector of beautiful people, people with perfect lives.

He loved them all, loved how they squabbled with traffic wardens about parking tickets, how they shopped in tescos or Morrisons, or shopped in Next with their friends. His stalking of them, especially families who were his primary interest because Henry was more interested in families than anything else because it gave him the chance to properly dream about what he wanted. But inwardly Henry was a jealous individual, he admired their perfect lives, how they acted like perfect people. It made him angry, especially whenever he focused his mind and attention on the families he took the time to stalk. Henry went to a lot of trouble finding those families, or couples who were trying to have them, and he would sit in with support groups with a girl who was easy to entice and pretend to be one of those couples when in fact all he was interested in was finding the right couple for his attentions and fantasies. After that it was a question of how interested he would become.

Sometimes he would sit or he would just watch from afar. He would sit, either in a car he'd stolen and hotwired, or at home looking at pictures he'd taken of them as they went on with their lives, completely unaware they were being followed and spied on. Henry would often sit naked as he looked at the photos he'd spent days taking and jacking off at the thought of what he would like to do with them. And yet they made him angry, especially the picture perfect parental figures. The way they spoiled their children, it made him sick with jealousy. He had never had that kind of life and he had a strict hatred and envy of people who did and believed nobody could be living a terrible life. Henry hated that of the perfect people he saw. And yet he could not leave them alone, especially the ones he became obsessed with.

A veteran burglar, Henry had plenty of experience and lack of qualms about breaking and entering other people's homes. In the past it was a simply matter of snatch and grab and getting out and simply selling what he'd stolen for cash, but now Henry used his skills simply to break in, snatch a spare key or two and get them copied so then he could have his own set without suspicion. He used them often, looking at the various photos on the walls of his spare bedroom. For instance one night he could be sitting there in the leather armchair, naked, a mug of cocoa nearby, his dressing gown draped over the right arm of the chair waiting to keep him warm so he could return to bed and get a good night's sleep, ignored as he stared at the pictures with the post it notes where the addresses of the persons he was staring at were stuck nearby. He might choose that young couple who lived in Marlybone, the one where he was a bodybuilder who was a computer salesman and she was the owner of a small floristry, or that slutty Thai massage parlor owner with the small figure and big tits who lived in High St. Kensington.

Whoever he chose, he would make sure he found the keys and head there. Security at their homes, if there were home that is, would be lax and Henry had always been an expert in finding out where people were and where he could hide. Once he was sure he was safe he would either sit and watch them as they fucked, too distracted to realise he was there and was more than capable and willing to kill them should they realise he was there. If they were asleep he would masturbate in their knickers, as silently as he could, and leave just as quietly. Occasionally he had needed to kill one or two of them over the years simply to stop them raising the alarm when they saw him, but otherwise no-one had realised he was there or his impressive collection of keys. It depressed Henry whenever one of these perfect people left and he didn't know of it until he saw the 'For Sale' or 'Sold' signs outside and then he became angry. It was like when they left a piece of him had left, and when they went away to somewhere different he always missed them dreadfully. Henry got over it, but he still missed them. To his mind, warped, bitter, demented and controlling as it was, they were the closest thing he had to friends though he knew in a part of his mind if they knew who he was, what he was doing, they would either want him locked up in a straitjacket with the key thrown away or killed.

Henry had met this woman in the streets and he had fallen in love with her immediately, as had dozens of the other men who had seen her as she'd walked down the street. Her long ruby red hair with coppery streaks that absorbed the light from the sun and discharged the light as though from a prism, framing that heart shaped face and those luscious green eyes highlighted with mascara and eyeliner to that gorgeous body dressed in the latest and most sophisticated but simplest fashions. Henry's tastes in women didn't usually extend to redheads, but there was exceptions and this tart seemed to bypass all the redheaded women he'd seen over the years. She hadn't noticed he was there of course, none of them ever did aside from the rare exceptions. He had followed her around at a safe distance for weeks, but she was elusive. She would be on the street for only a few minutes, disappear into a number of shops and then come out with her purchases before vanishing again. She was like a ghost in Henry's mind, showing herself for a few minutes before vanishing again.

Ordinarily Henry found it straightforward to stalk his prey, he would mark them down and try to see them again at the places where he'd first seen them, and then follow them from there. Over the years he'd gotten pretty good at it, but this woman….. It was hard because although she seemed nonchalant about her surroundings like other sluts, she managed to stay clear of him like she had some fairy godmother warning her of danger so she could avoid them. Finally, after he'd considered giving up, he'd found her home. It was purely by chance rather than by design. She lived in a townhouse in the heart of the city. After that it had been easy to see she didn't spend too much time at the house during the day, so Henry found it simply to break in and find a key so he could copy it. Henry had found it easy to find her at random, now she rarely showed herself like she knew he was watching and waiting for him to work his magic on her. In his fantasies that was what it was, and he loved and hated her equally for it. For the last few days, Henry had simply though enough was enough and decided it was time to make the bitch his. He had his plan all laid out; he would wait for her to get back to her house, wait for her to get settled and then break in, catching her unawares and then take her back to the house where he'd lock her up in the basement and treat her like the dog bitch she was, and then she would give him the kiddies he'd always wanted because having children was the epitome of normality. It would take time to break her, but some girls were easy to break. Besides he had plenty of time to wait for her to be broken, and then she would be his.

The thought alone gave him an erection. "Fuck," he spat as he waited for his dick to go down. Once his erection had died down, he opened the door of the car and got out. He didn't lock it. He just hurried towards the townhouse cautiously, when he saw one of the lights inside the property suddenly come on. He stopped, pushing himself into the shadows. He'd thought she was asleep, but clearly she wasn't. Was she entertaining someone? The mere thought alone was enough to piss him off, but it made little difference. In the bag he was carrying was a hunting knife, and he was sure he could surprise whoever was in the house. But Henry didn't move from his spot in the garden in case something happened. In that time he studied the house and the lighted window. He had no idea how long he stood out there in the front garden, watching the lighted window. No one came to it, not a man and certainly not a woman, not even a dog or a cat, but he didn't move from his spot for sometime in case someone did come and spotted him when he finally walked up the pathway to the door. When the light finally went out and he moved, he winced in suppressed pain at the cramp in both his legs and feet. "Shit!" he snarled under his breath as he lightly stamped his feet to get the circulation going again. "Shit, shit and double fucking shit."

It took Henry a few minutes to get it together again, and this time he didn't hesitate though something was wrong. When that light had come on there had been no sign of life, but the house didn't seem like a house someone lived in now Henry was thinking about it. He couldn't really see inside, but he could tell there was little life inside. It was like she was living in an empty house, well she had just moved in and so there was bound to be a few empty rooms she hadn't found a use for yet. After tonight, he reasoned, it wouldn't matter either way. Henry took out the key he'd made a copy of and slipped it quietly into the lock. He turned it, thanking god the woman hadn't fitted a chain or a bolt yet, and walked inside quietly using his experience as a burglar to guide him into the house, and just as quietly closed and locked the door. Standing in the hallway Henry just stood there, listening quietly for any sound that could tell him where the woman was before deciding it didn't matter. The house wasn't that big, and there were only so many rooms in the house for her to live in. Henry made sure to check every nearby room thoroughly, and he saw to his surprise that there weren't any boxes. All the rooms were completely empty. His unease grew with every room, oh there were some furnished rooms - a chair here, a table there, a small TV and DVD player here and there. But all the furnishings looked simple, nothing here was big or permanent. Henry had just walked into another room when the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, warning him of danger. Over the years Henry had developed an almost feral sense of danger that had gotten him out of dozens of messes over the years, and now it was going haywire. He had just walked into a darkened room where the only light was coming from the hall outside, so he couldn't really make anything out in the room itself. But he could tell someone was in this room, waiting for him. He felt something suddenly prod his chest, and then his muscles felt numb and then he realised with horror what was happening. He was being electrocuted with a taser, but nothing was worse to him than the thought of suddenly losing his control over a situation. He was still lost in thoughts of anger by the time he collapsed to the floor.

After making his eyes get used to the darkness of the townhouse when he'd first come in, it was painful suddenly waking up to the bright white light. It felt like his eyes were being burnt away by the sun. Still Henry had to blink rapidly to clear his vision, and make his eyes used to the sudden change of luminance. His mind was still fogged and his body still felt numbed by being electrocuted by the taser, but he quickly regained his mental faculties enough to remember what had happened to him. Anger started surging through him, outrage at losing his precious control the way he had, and fury at having just ignored his instincts.

He'd seen with his own eyes how empty and sparse every room was, he should have seen there was a problem. I am getting old, too cocky, Henry thought to himself as he became stronger. It was then he realised something, he wasn't wearing anything except his boxers and socks. The rest of his clothes were in a heap on the floor. After that realisation he heard the woman speaking to someone on a mobile.

"Yes, the trap worked, I have my little stalker. Just get round here as soon as you can, and make sure you bring the tripod with you… That's right, make it a nice, clean death without any links back to this address…. Yes, I know," the woman was saying. Henry realised the woman had used heavy chains that rattled like the tail of the rattlesnake whenever he tried to move. "I know getting the townhouse wasn't cheap, but at least I can let it or something without anyone getting too suspicious. I've done it before, bought a place and rented it out for a little extra income. But here I dunno; its an ideal place for Moriarty's work, and I can simply grab the tube from a nearby station without going up and down from the coast to London. Yeah, I might just get used to the fact someone died in this townhouse tonight." Henry stiffened but didn't say a word. "The trap worked like a dream. When you get here, you'll find a Honda parked outside, I found the keys in his pocket and I went out there to check which car he used, but I'm not sure its his originally, not that I care anyway. When you've finished take him for a nice long drive far away to somewhere where you can make your own way back. Torch the car. I've already taken the accelerant Moriarty thought we'd need for the job, and put some into the car for you to use. I'll reimburse you and offer your final payment for another successful job well done. Hopefully he stole it which will make pinning our involvement harder…... Yeah I'm fine, and I'm about to teach him a lesson before you arrive to finish the job, but its such a pity these types still live….. No, I'm not referring to you. You do the jobs your hired for, and so do I."

The more the slut spoke Henry began to realise the mistake he'd made, and he'd been kicking himself for making them ever since he'd stepped through the doors of this place. She was working for someone, someone devious and powerful, and she apparently worked with someone who was either an enforcer and bodyguard, or an executioner. And that was bad news for him, being stuck in this chair, tied so tightly it was so painful and he was beginning to think that the circulation to his wrists and legs was being cut off. Henry knew there was little he could do to escape, even if he didn't think this mysterious executioner was that far away.

"Oh, when you bring the tripod make sure its feet are rubber. By the way, do you know if Sally is still in town? I might need to employ her to clean up the mess….. Oh, you know for a fact she's in China? Shame, do you know any other cleaners?… I could, but if the police tie this house in with the killing, I'd be arrested as an accomplice, or at least suspected as one. You know how some detectives are, some might believe you based on the evidence, but others will think something bigger is going on, and we can't risk it. I can't risk it. Moriarty is busy elsewhere, and he'll need me as a representative."

The woman listened a little bit longer, before she nodded back, "Okay. Maybe I should do that, and claim the insurance later. It's just a pity…..okay, I'll see you soon." She pocketed her mobile phone and glanced at Henry. She didn't seem surprised to find he was awake. "You've made a lot of trouble for me, but I expected it," she said lightly, padding softly towards the bag and the clothes just dumped in the room. She bent down and after snapping on a pair of latex gloves, and started rifling through Henry's bag. She paused in surprise as she lifted out a small black bag made of cloth and opened it. It was Henry's homemade cosh bag, it was filled with double A batteries and small chunks of brick and concrete to add more punch. "What were you planning to do with this?" she asked, holding the bag up before rolling her eyes, guessing the answer though she didn't say it.

"You may as well speak since after tonight, no-one will ever see you in the land of the living again, though I doubt many would care." Henry stayed silent, and she sighed. "Okay, very well. So you'll die when Sebastian arrives. Though he knows I'm going to make a mess of this room with you here anyway, so I can live with that." She went silent for a second before she started speaking again.

"I found the album in your bag. I looked at it for a few minutes. You'd be amazed what you can learn. It was more a journal, but I'm sure you already know that, Henry?" The second the album was mentioned Henry's heart raced. She knew a lot about him now. "I also saw that blanket in the car. What were you planning, kidnap me and take me somewhere, and then rape and torture me?" She shook her head, "Your kind, you're all the same wherever I go. Kidnappers. I've killed kidnappers before. They were like you; weak, useless, pathetic. Sometimes I'd even met a few psychopaths who wanted something only other people have, but they would never possess. So many times I killed them so then their stink wouldn't permeate. That's you, I know. I only needed to see that little album of yours filled with photo after photo after post it note." The look the bitch sent Henry was enough to make him tense.

She saw it. "Oh please, you're no match for me in your current state. Look." She held out her hand, showing she was holding the taser again before showing her other hand, which had a small spray can filled with pepper spray. "I wasn't surprised to find you with that key. The moment you stalked me through the streets…."

"You know I was tailing you?" Henry broke his silence, angry and surprised by how easily the bitch had seen him. She didn't look happy at the interruption. "Of course I did. I grew up in the concrete jungle, I learnt how to survive figuring I'd either lose that sense if I grew too old or too stupid. Besides, I saw you so many times, and you always seemed to be unaware of my agents whenever they texted me to let me know you were there. I am a pivotal member of a vast global organisation. I need to be protected. A few years ago I was almost killed by an assassin. She was in the employ of a mob boss in Los Angeles. She and her boss paid the price for touching me, and I arranged for protection. These agents would stay with me for a few hundred yards, texting all clears and photos of people who were clearly following me. Its a long and complicated system, really where the local CCTV networks are tapped as well, but it works."

The woman went silent and Henry felt his stomach settle into his pelvic region as his mind went over what he'd just learnt. This woman….she was part of a massive organisation, one that tapped the local CCTV networks and used them to see if people were following her. How had she managed all this, and who was her boss? Henry paid close attention to her when she spoke again.

"I arranged for this townhouse; I didn't need to live in it, it only needed to serve a purpose which was to trap you. When I bought it I had only the minimum amount of furniture put in to make it appear like a home. This was all done when it became clear you were a stalker, but I didn't know what you wanted until I saw that album of yours." Then she shrugged as if it didn't matter to her, the stalking, the time and the money she and her organisation had paid simply to trap and kill him. Henry watched as she left the room and then returned a few minutes later, carrying a sledgehammer in one hand, and a blowtorch in the other.

"Oh christ," Henry whispered in a low voice at the sight of the torch. Henry was no stranger to torturing people, he did it regularly whenever his obsessive behavior and mean streak pushed him to the brink. But he preferred to get it over and done with quickly. He kept repeating those two words under his breath, but she heard him. She giggled lightly. "Christ and God, Allah, the Buddha and so on can't help you, buddy. I want you to answer some straight forward questions. Don't think I won't hurt you even if you did answer me, because you will still die and my associate is expecting a bruised, battered, bloody, broken body."

Henry shivered at her tone, but he tried to regain some sense of control. "You want me alive for him, right? So I don't have to tell you a thing." The expression on the womans' face darkened. "So be it," she said, and something in her voice made him shiver. The woman moved so fast, and the next second Henry screamed in sudden pain as the sledgehammer smashed his right kneecap. "You pathetic fool," she spat at him, gazing at him with contempt, though he couldn't really tell through the tears of pain in his eyes. Henry knew his kneecap had been shattered by the force of the blow, and he wondered just how this bitch had become so strong. "You weakling, you little coward. You hark on and on about normality in that album of yours, and yet you are so pathetic. You harass families, kill them and hope to have children so then you can be normal. After tonight, it will never happen. Nothing is normal. Normality is just a crutch society has up its backside." With those words the woman lifted the hammer and brought it down on Henry's left foot. The metal of the hammer shattered the bones in the foot, snapping them into little bits with the force of kinetic energy. Henry felt as though his vocal chords were bleeding, he was screaming so much. The woman, he noticed blearily through his tear fogged eyes, had left him alone.

Finally he wheezed as his voice couldn't take much more, and Henry gasped as he wondered how no one had heard him just yet. Idly the bitch checked her watch. "Sebastian should be here soon," she commented. "Don't worry, your suffering will end when he arrives. But before he does arrive, I want you to answer my questions and don't think for a second I won't injure you, because the injuries I've given you will seem trivial by the time I'm through with you. Do you understand me?" Henry nodded feverishly, though he didn't see the point. He was rapidly reaching the conclusion he couldn't escape even if he tried, though he might be able to if the bitch let her guard down. The only trouble was he was in a lot of pain. The woman seemed to be reading his thoughts and slipped out of her pocket a gun. Henry studied it with his eyes.

It was a tiny black thing with what looked like a built in silencer. Some sort of custom gun? It was possible; if you had power over the CCTV networks anywhere you went then making a custom gun or having one made for you was probably no trouble. The woman made a hand gesture. Look up. He looked up. Henry almost pissed himself (he had pissed himself already from the pain, the stain was soaking his pants) at the smile on her face. It made the smile of a skull look almost kind.

"The bullets of this gun," she said in a low voice as though handing out a prized secret to a school friend, "are filled with white phosphorous. Don't play games with me, or I'll burn you from the inside out." Sitting back in her seat the woman glared at him. "Tell me, why did you want me? Don't forget, I can burn you and my associate will be here soon, so really you don't have much choice." Henry took a deep breath and considered his options. The very thought of being shot full of white phosphorous was a horrible one. He knew it could burn you, though he didn't know what that felt like since he had never been burnt in his life with nothing more than an accidental cigarette which had been jabbed accidentally into his hand by mistake when the holder had thought there was an ashtray nearby.

The kneecap which had been hit with that sledgehammer was almost certainly gone, smashed out of shape probably, and the foot, well that was definitely gone. He'd tested his bonds earlier whilst she'd been on the mobile to this Sebastian bastard earlier. He had to admit, as a veteran kidnapper and expert in locking people away where no-one could find them, she had done a fucking good job of tying her up. She hadn't bothered with cuffs or simple duct tape. No, she'd used heavy chains. The chains were locked with a padlock, and they were wrapped so tightly around his wrists they threatened to cut off his circulation. There was nothing he could do about the padlock, Henry didn't have any lockpicks to break it open and get free. Besides, the woman would see such a move. Henry closed his eyes and nodded. "Okay, I wanted you so I could rape you. I have a house with a basement. Its got a bed, and I would use that room to break you. When you are inside I would chain you to the bed and slowly fuck you. I had planned to brainwash you into loving me, so you'd feel happy with the thought of having babies."

"Where is this house?" Henry answered her, and he watched as she idly made a note of it on her mobile before she pocketed the slim phone again. "Okay. Have you done this to other women?" There were 8. Henry gave names.

"What about children?" Henry, again, gave names, this time of kids who he had kidnapped over the years. He had never let a little thing like age discriminate his choices; the youngest child he had kidnapped was ripped from the mother's womb when she was almost 9 months into her pregnancy, the eldest was 10 years old. The woman's face was stony and cold as she listened. "If your little plan succeeded, and I was kidnapped and held prisoner for heaven alone knows how long, what would've happened to any children we would've had?" Henry paused. The question had taken him by surprise because he had genuinely not expected it, though in hindsight with all the questions she had asked he should have. "We would've lived happily ever after," he said with a sappy grin on his face. "We would have had 5 boys and 5 girls, and I would've loved them." "What about me?" she snarled angrily. Henry shrugged, her happiness was unimportant. He didn't need to say it either, it was clear in his body language what he felt. The woman said nothing after that, seeming to guess what he was thinking, her expression not giving anything away besides that. Henry didn't say anything, he was too busy watching the way she was lovingly petting that gun of hers. She dearly wanted an excuse to use it. Wisely he kept his mouth closed firmly. For what seemed like a week there was a knock on the front door. In the oppressive silence of the house the sound was like an execution bell.

Ironic, that was what it was because the knock was essentially his execution bell. Silently and gracefully the woman stood up and left the room and went out to answer it. Henry overheard the sounds of people speaking, but he couldn't make anything out. Footsteps approached the room and the woman stepped through the doorway arch, followed closely by a tall man dressed in black. He was massive, bigger than Henry, and though his coat hid it Henry could see that the strangers arms were as thick as tree trunks. His eyes were like chips of rock in a blizzard. He studied Henry coldly like a crocodile looking at a zebra foolishly making its way down to the water to drink before the snap. Henry spat, "What you lookin' at you faggot?" The woman rested a gentle but firm hand on the stranger's thick shoulder when he made a move like he was going to sprint towards Henry. "No, not right this second," she advised quietly. "Bring in the tripod and set it up. After I've gone you can do what you want with him."

The stranger ground his teeth and even across the room chained into his chair Henry could hear the stress in the man's molars. The woman silently leaned against a wall, and watched as the stranger quietly left the room and then came back carrying a large collapsed tripod over his shoulder looking like one of those plastic Christmas trees. Henry had never liked those trees, hated them completely, he preferred the real thing. Needles and all. With practiced ease the stranger set up the tripod in the room, it was resting on rubber feet otherwise it would've scratched out the floor. When it was set up it seemed to dwarf the whole room, and before Henry's eyes the stranger tested it by grabbing one of the legs and swinging on it.

The woman sounded amused. "I've changed my mind," she said, "I want to see this piece of filth pay the price for thinking I would be a brood mare of his. I'm going to the kitchen, make something hot to drink. Tea?"

"Please, white with 2 sugas," the man said, speaking for the first time in Henry's presence. "While you're gone, do you want me to beat him up?"

"Definitely, just make sure he suffers worse than he did with me," she said. The woman smiled at Moran before sparing Henry a sneer and sashayed teasingly out of the room. Henry ground his teeth together, getting the message she was broadcasting loud and clear; you could look but you can't touch. Not anymore. He didn't have an opportunity to fantasise anymore, not when he found himself punched in the face. His head snapped back with the impact which felt like he'd been smashed with a piece of metal. He even spat out a tooth.

Catching the man's eye, Henry caught sight of the toothy grin that had cracked the man's lips, and he caught sight of the knuckle duster circling his knuckles. The man's grin widened before he lost it, putting all his energies into another punch. Henry lost track of time after that, the man just punched and punched and punched. One blow was directed towards his mouth, making him spit out blood and more than a few of his teeth. Another blow felt like his chin had been fractured. A blow to his nose and eyes made him lose vision entirely except for one eye. Finally the man started aiming his punches lower, one blow catching his collar bone. Henry began to lose count of the number of times this man, this bastard, punched him before giving up and took out an aluminium baseball bat and smashed a few more of his bones. Finally giving up with his sport, the man bent down and grabbed hold of Henry's broken feet. Drowsy from the blood loss Henry struggled. "No," he tried to say, "no." But all that emerged from his mouth were a few blood gurgling sounds. The man seemed pleased, sadistically pleased, with his sound effects. "Do a 'ittle more 'han 'hat, mate," he chuckled. Henry wanted to slice his throat. "You're dead." Henry nearly believed him, wishing he could escape but knowing he couldn't with all the bones in his body that had been shattered. Henry's blood loss made it easier for the man to gently but firmly pull him by the feet out of the chair that had been his rears home for god knew how long, and with a forceful tug Henry found himself on the ground. "

Ooohph!" he grunted through his shattered gob, but the man was ignoring him. Through lidded eyes, blurred with pain, Henry saw the man walk over to his tripod. At that moment the woman returned carrying two steaming mugs. " Ah was wonderin' when you'd be back," the man commented when she offered him one of the mugs. "I did it slowly," she replied. "I know how much you love your work. Besides I wanted this piece of shit to suffer. Are you almost ready? I timed it right, didn't I?" "'tha you did," the man replied, sipping his drink. "Let me 'ave this, an' I'll kill 'im." Henry was pretty much out of it after that, but he distinctly felt as though he was being hoisted up by his feet. It took him a second, but then he realised he was being hoisted up and drawn underneath the tripod until he was hanging helplessly underneath. Henry tried to struggle as best he could with his injuries, but all he managed to achieve was a wriggle. He tried to scream, beg, plead for help even if he felt it was beneath him, but the man lightly kicked him to shut him up. It didn't make much difference, with most of his teeth gone from earlier's punchings all he could manage were a few gurgling pleas. He tried to say, "Let me down, please. I can pay you. No, you can't do this." But deep down he knew it was hopeless.

These two, this nasty, brutal son of a bitch and this whore he'd wanted to snatch and hide away in a hole in the ground until she was ready by his definition of the word for breeding, had won. He was going to die and he hadn't even managed to fight back. If he'd been allowed to fight back, Henry thought to himself, things would have gone differently. For a start this woman would've been on the ground, and this bastard would never even have gotten here. He wouldn't have received all these injuries, and even if he had been here Henry was sure he would've put up a decent enough fight, maybe even one that would've meant this wouldn't be happening. But he couldn't hide the despair he was feeling for the loss of his dreams. It came gradually. But as the reality started to set into his mind Henry despaired. As an orphan, albeit a psychopathic orphan, he had always wanted the perfect family. He had worked it all out. They would live in the country, and he would have five boys and five girls.

Unfortunately no woman he'd ever met had wanted to go the extra mile with him, hence the reason he was so obsessive at times. Henry struggled, wriggling like a worm on a fishing line as he hung from the tripod, knowing it was hopeless since he couldn't get down. He heard a sound, the blood rushing to his brain, and saw the man grinning at him whilst holding a knife that looked like a meat cleaver though it could have a machete. The woman had a smirk on her otherwise expressionless face as he struggled even more, trying to plea, beg, anything as the man walked towards him. The steps reminded Henry of that T. Rex from the Jurassic Park movies, stomp - stomp - stomp. Suddenly the man sliced his throat, and Henry gurgled as the arterial blood gushed from his neck. As it started to go dark Henry regretted not snatching the bitch off the streets, and then he felt nothing. Henry Madsen was dead.

Please tell me what you think.