At 6.50pm, Red Max rang the doorbell of 35-36 Little Newport Street.

The lodging of a petite French brunette, unnervingly similar to the other three victims, who

was known as French Z. He didn't wear a disguise or bring a weapon, as Max's power was

his stranglehold and so-ho. A place so in fear, he could kill in plain sight and disappear

into a busy city street, as no one dared to speak his name. Unlocked by the prostitute's

terrified mate, as with FIFA, Marie and Leia, the street door led up a tight stair, as his

heavy boots flooded up to this soon-to-be-crime scene of another killing. By the time the police

would arrive, the room would be cleaned, the evidence erased, the witness silenced, and

the killer unseen. Many have speculated that the so-ho strangler wasn't the work of a sadistic

serial killer, or a series of copycat killings, but a white slaver sending a message to his

pimps, girls and ponces. And now, just a few streets south of the murders of FIFA, Marie and Leia,

a rifle-crime boss was dead. Roger Marcel Verne was born on the 4th January 1901 in Fontanay,

Subois, a pleasant suburb on the outskirts of Paris. His father was a postal official, his mother

was a housewife, and coming from a good hard work in family, although he was educated and cultured,

Roger wanted more. Nicknamed Petit Georges, owing to his small stature, Roger was a thin,

slightly-built man, barely five-foot-hine heels, who wore very expensive, exquisitely-tailed suits,

to hide the fact that they were child-sized. And although, with dark, slicked-down hair,

a flawless face, an often-wearing and natty little bowtie, many mistook him for a little boy

dressed in his Sunday best, but in truth, he was an angel-faced killer.

Like a little highland terrier, Roger could become loyal and intensely smart,

but burdened by a short fuse, sharp teeth and a savage bite.

Very few rats ever escaped a tussle with Roger unscathed.

...