Back hunched and clothing dishevelled, the figure spun the wheel of the old iron wheel that locked his safe. A whir of mechanisms was followed by a depression of air and the vault opened. Stepping in he looks at his assorted meaningless treasures and his useless weapons. Tonight he had watched her die again. But that was no different from every night. He walked to the centre of the room where an old faded photograph was placed lovingly next to aged tomes and weathered first editions.