Doyle was sound asleep, snoring peacefully and hypnotically. It had been a few months since he had courageously rescued Genevieve from Van Rook's evil clutches, and stolen her heart. His lover lay next to him, her hands resting gently on his broad back. Their silky white bed sheets lay over them, falling in folds around their resting bodies. They both had always been heavy sleepers, and as they dreamed together, neither one of them noticed the shifting shadow outside their open window. Silently, the intruder slid into the room, pattering across the carpeted floor with astonishing stealth for someone of his size. The man with spider-like arms decided that for once in his life, he would use slyness, rather than brute force, to capture his master's next victim. He slid the covers off of the sleeping couple gently, careful not to make any sound at all, hardly daring to breath. Doyle only stirred slightly as Munya tied the black ropes around his hands and feet tightly, being careful enough to not wake him. The red haired man was a bit sweaty, his blue boxers sticking to him from the warm July night. He itched the tip of his nose with his hands bound in front of him, unaware that he was in mortal peril. Pleased with his work, Munya tore a strip of purple cloth from the bottom of his pants, and gently tied it over the sleeping man's eyes, making a small knot on the back of Doyle's head. Munya froze as the man grunted in his sleep, and Genevieve rolled over to the other side of the bed. The young woman slept on her side, curled up in a ball, her lacy purple nightgown wrapped around her long legs. Assured that they were still asleep, he dared to move again, still tense, afraid of being caught, for he would be strongly outnumbered by the other members of the household. Before his victim had time to react, Munya roughly pressed a piece of duct tape over Doyle's mouth, and swiftly yanked the bound man out of his bed.
The sudden movement snapped Doyle out of his sleep, and the dazed man began to struggle, clueless as to what was happening. Seeing only darkness, he realized he was being kidnapped, an experience he had gone through before. He thrashed around, shaking his head fiercely like a roaring lion, kicking his legs out behind him with the force of a bucking stallion. He pounded on the kidnapper's shoulder, making desperate attempts to free himself. In response, the purple monster gripped him tighter and made a bloody gash in Doyle's exposed back with one of his extra arms, a thin trail of blood dripping onto the new carpet. The suffering man attempted to scream in pain, but his cried were muffled by the gag. He tried to call out to Genevieve as he was lifted onto Munya's back and hauled out the window, but his efforts failed. Only quiet grunts and various sounds escaped, Doyle now breathing heavily, snorting like an angry bull. Doyle had no idea if his beloved Genevieve was safe, and he choked back the fear that welled up in his throat, forcing himself to be strong. With a final glance back at Genevieve, Munya climbed into the old maple tree outside their window, and leapt onto the grassy lawn below, dashing off into the night, eagerly awaiting the praise he would receive from his master.
"Go back to bed, love, it's too early" Genevieve mumbled, the woman annoyed at being disturbed. She placed her pillow over her head and fell asleep once again, unaware that Doyle had vanished.
