It was late night in the city of London. Crows are cawing, and rain is splashing down in torrents. People are bustling around, and horse-drawn carriages are rolling down the cobblestone streets. Nobody seems to notice, or care that a serial killer has been roaming the streets murdering young women. A young girl (14) is walking down the street humming to herself. She pushes through a group of men drinking and smoking from their pipes, the aroma of tobacco wafting over her.

She hobbles over to an alleyway and cuts down it. She's breathing heavily and is obviously nervous being out this late. She was supposed to be home an hour ago, but had stayed out to watch one of the plays at the local theater. A cloaked man is concealed in the shadows by a few empty boxes of wine, and he slowly, yet fluidly moves from his hiding spot and slowly stalks the young girl.

She turns around and...Nothing. The figure that was stalking her is no where in sight. She sighs and turns around and there is Jack The Ripper standing there. His blank, life-less, white eyes glaring back at her. He smiles revealing blackened, cracked teeth causing her to scream. The scream echoes out through-out the streets.

---

Marcus is perched up on a roof-top of a nearby building scanning the streets. His cigar rolling around in his mouth as the smoke billows out into the night sky. Nothing exciting. He had ordered the other members of the Order to stake out other areas in the vicinity just in case The Ripper would strike again. He hadn't committed any murders in a few months, but Marcus had information that he had come back to London. He checked to make sure his Revolver was fully loaded, and tapped his fingers on the sheath of his Tulwar.

He sighed. "Where are you..."

He looked around again and noticed a timid, young girl head off into an alleyway. Just out of his sight. Dammit, he thought. He stood up straight preparing for the worst and that's when he heard the piercing scream. He leapt from the building, and landed on the top of a passing carriage and rolled off casually into the street and sprinted off towards the alleyway.

Eric looked up at the scream rain dripping off the edge of his hat. High pitched female, looking back the way he had come he watched as a figured leapt from a roof rolled from the roof of a passing carriage and darted for an alleyway. He caught the glint of the Tulwar at his waist and knew it was Marcus, Eric had been walking a beat as Marcus had ordered just blending with the passersby, but the scream and Marcus making his move galvanized Sir Easton into action. He cut down a side street splashing through the rain , unlimbering his double barrel from under his heavy coat. If he could head off the opposite side of the Alley they would have the Ripper surrounded, even if it was too late for the girl. But there was always hope.

Eric skidded out of the side street and into the rain soaked throughfare that ran parrallel to the prior street and began a head long sprint up the road toward the other end of the alleyway in a desperate attempt to head off the Ripper. He brushed rain water out of his eyes with his left hand as he brought the shotgun up with his right hand.
"Please let us be in time...." He breathed doggedly as he ran

Wihelm von Richtofen hated this god forsaken city. It smelled awful, the buildings all looked the same and most of the people he had met were incredibly rude. The colorful people of Whitechapel would barely acknowledge the Prussian-born gentleman. That is, everyone who didn't shirk away from the man with a revolver and a 3 foot saber attached to his hip. Then there was the rain. London, and most of England for that matter, made the rainiest places in the Reich seem like dried out deserts in comparison. Still, he wasn't exactly welcome back home anymore. He couldn't even see his family, his friends in the army, or even Marie. That last one hurt him most of all. He was all ready to buy her a ring, too...

He was shaken out of his revery by a high pitched scream. It sounded like a girls scream. Wilhelm broke into a run in that general direction, nearly bumping into Sir Eric Easton, shotgun in his hand. Hoping that Sir Easton had a better knowledge of East London that Wilhelm did, he decided to follow. They both turned the corner and saw what could only have been a young girl, in her early teens. It was hard to tell, as viscera and blood were pooled down around her. Mein,Gott im Himmel! Wilhelm said, disgusted. He had seen gore before but never like this.

Eric swallowed the rising bile, this was horrific. He gave Richtofen a side long look, then it hit him. The Ripper was gone.

"Bloody Hell! we missed the Son of a Bitch!" He wiped the rain off the edge of his hat and face with his left hand cradling the shotgun in his right arm. The poor girl was a bloody mess. Quite literally. Suddenly Eric looked up whirled and darted into the street scanning the crowd but he knew it was futile The Ripper was gone again.

With that he walked back to the mouth of the alley and re-examined the scene, messy as hell. He walked over to the victim crouching down over the visceral remains, shotgun braced with the butt on the cobblestones looking over the scene taking in details, the way the blood pooled and flowed in the rain. Before he stepped around the body to a box of crates where he gently freed a pit of cloth from the edge of one of the boxes which it had been caught. It wasn't much but it told Marcus volumes.

"The bastard was waiting in the Alley..." Eric grimaced as he said it.

Marcus knew he was too late, and grimly walked over to the scene. He holstered his revolver and looked down at the remains of the victim.

"Christ. She can't be any more than 14 years of age." He knelt down and moved his hands through the gaping wound in her abdomen. Just as he thought, all of her organs were missing. Most likely eaten, or harvested for some darker purpose. Nobody had seen The Ripper and lived to tell about it, so nobody knew his intentions. Was he a mortal man, or some type of ghoulish beast.

He removed his gloved hand, and removed some of the bloody mess that was gathered up around his glove. He looked towards the other two men and sighed.

"Wait for the others to get here, and we'll move the body back to the headquarters to examine it fully. Something about this victim is different. He usually takes all the organs but for some reason I don't see any entry wounds around the skull." He swallowed hard.

"Her brain might still be intact."

(So, let's not rush things and wait for the others to post :) )

(Crap, double post)

“Damn. Damn damn damn.” Finally getting to that awful scene, pushing past her colleagues, cane in hand…”Curses!” Crouching down for but a moment, she almost immediately shot back up, turning away to lean against one of the alley’s walls shakily. Pausing for a moment, she unbelted a strap from her mask, allowing for her to take a deep breath…then puke out a portion of blood. Rushing, always rushing, yet just about too late, once again. Situations like these, seeing corpses like that…it filled her with quite a bit of despair.

Recomposing herself after a minute, she pulled out her pipe and lit it with some trouble, “Augh. Once again, our dear Ripper isn’t so picky, but I see he hasn’t been so greedy this time either. Though the Ripper wasn’t so gentle with our victim, the cranial area seems to be almost perfectly intact…” She could almost imagine the poor girl being attacked in such a brutal manner…and yet…head intact. Through the first strike, the struggle…maybe they hadn’t arrived in time to save her, but they had arrived in time to prevent the last brutalization of the body.

Taking a puff, then a second of her pipe…barely shielding it from the rain. “So, what’s the official story going to be this time? What is going to be submitted to the town hall’s public record? Accident? Sudden illness? Or, are we going to call a murder a murder?”

If they failed to lessen the number of victims through prevention, the right way, they had to do it some other way. It wasn’t a matter of just submitting false reports; manipulating public records…everything was in the name of preventing panic from spreading, maintaining this false sense of what some people deluded themselves into believing was normalcy. Part of her felt like this dishonesty was doing the victim a disservice, but the other part of her thought it much better that this girl’s parents not know that the she had been slit open and robbed in the worst kind of way.

The night sky wasn't as much sky as it was clouds, it was London after all, rain and cold were strangers to no one in the city. Lightning arched across the sky, or clouds rather, then the rain started. It fell heavily hitting the cobblestone streets, making more noise than it was warranted, the wind cause large waves to smash against the walls surrounding the Thames. The wind blew the rain in a sideways torrent, not long after it had began to fall.

"Cabby!" He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, the horse drawn cab stopped in front of him.

"Where would ya like ta go?" The uneducated cabby yelled over the rain as Hadley climbed into the carriage, it rocked with the new weight.

"Just take me 'round, I'm lookin' for someone." The man driving the cab didn't ask about the rifle he carried, he didn't actually care so long as he was paid afterward. He heard the screech of what sounded like a young woman nearby, Will quickly tried to decide were it came from - "Go down that street!" He yelled at the driver, the man pulled on the reins and the horse obeyed. "For God sake man! Hurry it up!" He further yelled at the cabby. They had to stop because of crowds, Hadley reached into his pocket and pulled out a pound, he handed it to the man and ran into the tens of people filling the alley. He could see the body and knew that it must've been the Ripper. Hadley shouldered his rifle, reached into his coat and pulled out his peacemaker, he ran towards his comrades to regroup.

Victor Crow

The dusty underground library held documents and books created out of journals and reports decades old. Gathered by the members of the Order where they can. One such book. About fairies and goblins. Detailed their origins and delved into the social structures. Victors’ eyes were glued to every word as his fingers ran slowly over the page. The tips of his pointer finger coated in ink as he licked it for every turn of the page. Here this library was his domain every crack and crevice he explored, yet still this place held many secrets. Reading by the candle light hours passed into the night as a pot of tea kept him company. The other members of the Order only bothered him when they needed information they left him to his solitude surrounded by ancient lore.

Victor knew the others were out hunting, patrolling. But it did not concern him. Standing from his desk he slowly walked over carefully cradling the fragile book. The shelf he took it from housed many like it, he organized most of these books himself using his own system. He knew exactly where each book and read them as he had time unless he needed to find something for a case. Shuffling through the isles he found a report from 1703. It piqued his interest and he took it back to the candle. The name read Darian.. That was the only indication of who wrote it. Many chose to only use their first name least the contents fell into wrong hands, or claws.

Darian, Egypt May 4th 1703

What could only be described as Ghouls were sighted in the main city leaving behind a few corpses. Upon further investigation I found these reports false, but something still troubled me. It took another week here, before I discovered with some difficulty that a Mummy was responsible for the recent sightings, I’ll be heading out tomorrow to confront it.

Victor turned the page, yet nothing was there who ever this Darian was, he didn't survive. “Strange Mummies? I wonder what else is out there.”

Eric pocketed the scrap of cloth, looking up ever so slightly at the torrential downpour. Richtofen hated the rain but Eric had grown up with it and he still loved it even though London was always rather dreary for it. The storm had grown since earlier in the evening and he shivered but not from the cold. Murders he could handle, this was something all together different. What kind of sick bastard ate womens internal organs? There was probably more to this than Marcus was letting on. Especially given that the wounds looked nothing like any kind of mark any knife he knew of made. Something also felt funny about how quickly it had all happend. He swore it had only taken him a matter of seconds to cut across and come back up the other said and the monster had still vanished into the night. And to compared that Richtofen had been right with him and he couldnt fault the German's eye sight. With a heavy sigh he covered his double barrel with his coat so as not to attract too much unwanted attention, and ran his eyes over their motley group. Spencer was correct they couldn't keep this covered up forever especially given the grusome nature of the murders but something was off about this one, perhaps they really had interrupted The Ripper in the act but he was not sure. More investigfation would be required but the bloody rain was causing serious problems for the scene of the death he was lucky the wind hadn't taken the scrap of cloth he had managed to recover from the crates at the head of the alleyway.

"So how are we going to transport the body Marcus? And Spencer is right. What's our covered going to be? The met is going to be asking questions and I don't particularly want to be hauled into The yard for questioning given the fact that everyone there thinks I'm dead, I'm willing to wager that won't go over very well with the boys."

Marcus looked around, and slowly pulled his Tulwar out from its sheath. He made one quick motion and sliced the head off of the corpse, and picked it up by the hair. The blood oozing from the wound and onto the cobblestone. He wiped the blood from his weapon, and quickly sheathed it.

"Easier to transport, I'd wager." He tossed the now decapitated head over at Spencer, hoping she'd catch it. He peered down once more at the poor girl's corpse. They couldn't just leave the body here, it would be disgraceful. Plus, it would probably cause a panic and the entire city thought that The Ripper had fled the country or he had died. They couldn't reveal this to the public, not yet at least.

He picked the body up, and slumped her over his shoulder. The blood oozing onto his coat.

"We can't let the public know about this. They'll panic. I'll go bury her somewhere while you all get back and examine the head. Find out why he left it intact. That's not his usual motive." He then turned around, and set off towards the cemetery, the corpse bouncing on his shoulder. He would take a shortcut he knew about, nobody patrolling the streets would notice him if he was quick.

---

As the group conversed amongst themselves over the corpse of his latest victim, The Ripper stood on the rooftop of a nearby building looking onwards. They wouldn't notice him at this distance. Blood was dripping from his mouth, and he was chewing on one of her organs. He chuckled to himself, and vanished into the night.

Barely surprised by the man's actions, but surprised when the head was thrown to her, she barely caught it in her arms...though, she did drop her pipe in the process of catching the thing, "Oh, how charming, really. Ladies first now, is it?" Rolling her eyes, she noticed the blood seeming out the neck section of the head, soaking the layers of her plague doctor garb. Thankfully, the top layer was black cloth, so the blood would largely go unnoticed...even better, she could hide the head under many a layer. Holding the head up by the side of the face and the other hand holding the hair, "What a shame, this girl would have grown to be quite the beautiful young woman."

For a moment while looking over the face...there was a sinking, creeping feeling running up and down her spine. Looking about her, she only saw the safety of her colleagues in the immediate area, and this head. Oh, right. Her carrying this head, and Marcus carrying off the body, of course she'd having an eerie sort of feeling about this. Tucking the head under her arm under her layers of clothing, now unseen to others, Spencer brought her other hand up and pulled her mask down.

Eric's mouth hung ever so slightly open for a moment as Marcus decapitated the body, What was this wacko doing? At which point he shook his head and remember that he was no longer an officer of the law and that Marcus had a point. Still decapitation of a body was not exactly normal procedure for Eric but he sighed and nodded as Spencer tucked the head under her arm away from view.
"good now perhaps the public won't be in too much of an outrage, however perhaps we refrain from dropping it yes?" He said with a quirk of his mouth that bordered on a smile even in this rather grim evening. The image that was called to mind of a head being dropped to roll through a crowded street like a macabre ball was morbidly humorous but he quickly wiped the smile from his face as it would have been seen as unprofessional.

As Eric stood in contemplation of the scene the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on and his heart beat faster. He couldn't have proved it in a million years but could have sworn the group was being watched by malicious eyes. He turned a slow circle scanning the night but even when he could not find anything he knew someone or something could see him. And his face twisted into a snarl. Sir Easton was going to bring this monster down.

The girl's head came off with one swift motion, Marcus picked it up and tossed it at Throne, he then lifted the body and hurried off. The rain still came down and the wind still blew wildly. "The bloke couldn't have gotten far! I'll try to head him off!” He was already running back to the street when he heard a very faint chuckle, his rifle was already in his hands, the butt just below his right shoulder, he scanned the area, then moved onto rooftops. He saw a figure, but it was gone too quickly. His dash picked up again.

“Ah,” The cabby was still there, “didn’ find who ya was lookin’ for, did ya?”

“Perhaps,” William climbed into the cab, his deeper voice trumping that of the cabby,”Take me down that street,” He pointed to the one that ran along the building he saw the figure on, “With haste!” The cabby whipped the horse and it shot off down the street bringing the carriage with it.

The street was empty save a few folk hurrying home, “Turn there!” it was an alley that opened up into another street, the other street was near identical to the last. The horse’s hooves clopped against the cobblestone street madly as it dashed from street to alley to street again. This had gone on for some time, “Turn down that alley!” the cabby pulled on the reins, “I think I just saw him.” Hadley said as he redid his rifle, “There!” he whispered to himself. A figure was at the end getting ready to climb the ladder, there were a few bloody hand-prints on the alley walls.

The horse stopped at the entrance to the alley, William took aim with his rifle, “Keep it steady.” he told the cabby. As his finger pulled the trigger the horse was spooked and began jerking around, moving the entire carriage and causing Hadley to miss the shot and fall out of the cab.

“Dammit man! I said to keep it steady!” He'd picked himself up and whipped around to see if he could still make the shot, but who seemed to be the Whitechapel Murderer was gone. “Blast.” William climbed into the cab and gave the man an address to take him to that was near the church.
“That’d be four quid sir.” The cabby was glad to get paid and be done with Hadley. Hadley paid him and began walking toward the church to meet with the others.

Marcus walked through the gates of the cemetery and checked his surroundings. Good, nobody had followed him or noticed him. He shifted the girl's corpse and moved through the grim area. There was a thick fog setting in, and he could barely see five feet in front of him.

"Christ. Can't see a thing." He moved deeper into the cemetery and began looking for a fresh grave. He didn't want to disturb any earth and make it look suspicious, so he'd have to use a fresh grave where someone was just buried. It wasn't the most respectful thing they've done in The Order but it was imperative they remain a secret. If they left the body in the streets it would have just created a panic,and investigation they they couldn't afford right now. Not to mention it probably would of sent The Ripper back into hiding, which was definitely something they couldn't do again.

Finally. He came across a fresh grave with a tombstone already erected. He looked around, and began to dig through the dirt with his hands. He wish he brought a shovel. It was muddy, grimy, and disgusting. After about fifteen minutes he came upon the coffin, which was made out of pine and he could smell the freshness of the wood. This was an incredibly fresh burial. He dropped down into the open grave, and used his Tulwar to pry open the coffin...

"Fuck me!" He immediately brought his elbow up to cover his nose from the scent, and to prevent himself from vomiting. The corpse was in a right mess. The woman seemed to water-logged, and her flesh was almost in a "gooey" state. This must of been the woman they found floating in the Thames a few days ago. He had seen a lot of dead people, and mutilated corpses, but the near liquified state of this one was too much to witness, mainly from the smell.

He pulled a rag out from his pocket, and covered his mouth and nose while he dropped the corpse of tonight's victim into the coffin as well. She made a hard thump, and squish sound as she landed on the mushy corpse of the other lady. This caused bits of liquified flesh to splatter onto his trousers, and coat. He swore under his breath and covered up the casket.

The flowery scent of a candle wafted around a 21 year old woman, sticking to her fitted leather cloak with a row of buckles down the middle to which specks of white horse hair would cling to it.

“Victor”, Ingrid mumbled, her voice rich with disappointment while setting down the candle next to his pot a tea. Sky blue eyes flicked downwards, spotting the book of mummies he read between white-blonde bangs. The ends of Ingrid’s coat would be crusted with drying mud, one of the evidences of her swift travel back to the headquarters. “The others of the patrol have found trouble, as evidence by a rather loud scream of a young woman. I was planning to ride quickly there but after a year of chasing things, a scream always meant too late, try again if you may… I believe they wish they ran into a mummy.” She pauses, the end of her sentence dancing with humor, words proceeding after that would have no humor, but desperation. “Instead of the ripper. That is what else is out there, I wonder if this library has any well written records of him, as far as we know all of his victims are torn to pieces. You should consider coming on patrol with us, your knowledge will be helpful on the go.” Ingrid scowled, her lips in a small frown that swarmed with a French accent, she waltzed over to occupy an empty couch, staring at a painted portrait of the order’s leader.” Que Dieu Soit avec eux ( French: May god be with them), .”

Rain continued to splatter into the street as Eric stood in the alley making sure he hadn't missed anything but he knew he wouldn't find anything else. There was no world altering clue to be found here in the rain and blood. The body had been disposed of, they had the head, and Eric was simply going through the only futile gestures he had in order to satify his concious which was still beating him about the head and shoulders for not making it to the alley in time to catch the monster. After stomping back and forth through the quickly disipating pool of rain and blood he sighed. He took in Richtofen and Spencer the other remaining two members of the order.

"Well that's all she wrote for me chaps, time to get out of this blasted rain and find a cup of tea."

The rain was begining to soak through his outer coat and it was not improving his already souring disposition. With that splashed his way out of the alley looking right and left so as not to get mowed down by an oncoming carrage, crossed the street and started making his way back to the old church that the order used as a base his thoughts focused on a hot cup of tea and getting out of his soon to be soaked coat and already water logged boots. He would also need to clean both his weapons as there was no way he'd let the rain get to them in any way shape or form.

What in god's name is the matter with you?! thought Wilhelm as Marcus brought his Tulwar down on the poor girls neck. Without hesitation, or even really any sort of emotion, he tossed the head at Dr. Thorne and took the girls body and walked away into the night. That left Sir Easton, Dr. Thorne, himself and a young girls head. Sir Easton seemed to be deep in thought, and Dr. Thorne seemed to be occupied by the head she was just given. Before thinking of something clever to say (he was sure he had a good pun about severed heads he could make) Sir Easton spoke up.

"Well that's all she wrote for me chaps, time to get out of this blasted rain and find a cup of tea."

"Englishman, that's the best idea I've heard all day." With that, he followed the bowler wearing man back to HQ, the promise of a warm meal lifiting his spirits. That is, until, the mental image of that poor girl came back into his head. Suddenly food didn't seem like such a good idea.

Marcus entered the lobby of the church. It was decrepit, and falling apart. The perfect disguise for a secret base. He ran his hands through his hair, making it neat again and stepped over to the nearby bookshelf and pulled on one of the books. There was a loud sound of moving gears as the bookshelf slowly lurched sideways and revealed a staircase leading down into the real headquarters.

He walked down the stairs and placed his Tulwar, and revolver on the weapons rack and moved off towards the library where Ingrid, and Victor were situated. He took a seat at their table, and groaned. He was a little sore from hauling the body around and was soaked in rain, and mud from digging up the grave.

"Evening." He mumbled as he closed his eyes and attempted to relax.

---

The Ripper scurried away quickly up the ladder and out of sight. Someone was tracking him, but he had lost them after the man had fallen from his carriage. He made his way to an old sewer system beneath the Thames and entered a gloomy room. The room was damp, and dark with hints of mold growing on the walls. It had a strong scent of decay wafting from it with various organs stored in jars, and what appeared to be various bits of human skin nailed to various bits of the walls.



He lit a candle and produced the liver from his latest victim and placed it up to his nose and smelled the organ. He made a sort of disgusting gurgling sound as he smelled the organ, and placed it in a jar. He turned around and removed his hat revealing thinning white hair, and an extremely pale face stained with the blood of all the victims he's devoured. His teeth are blackened, and rotting. His eyes are soulless, and pure white with black bags under them. He licks his cracked, rotting lips with a tongue covered in sores and seeping with pus.

He withdrew his knife that he had used to slit the girl's throat, and licked the blood clean from his weapon. Making sounds of pleasure as he done so.

Eric stomped up the steps of the old church a few minutes after Marcus with Richtofen in tow. Water left from the leather but it was quickly replaced by the continuing downpour. With a heave he pushed open one of the churches doors with a protest of old metal and wood on stone. When the door was open enough for him to slip in he did so leaving the door for anyone following him. The bookshelf had just slid back into place as Eric approached it and repeated Marcus action with far less calm as he shifted his weight from foot to foot in water logged boots that made an irritating squelching sound each time he did it until the passage was fully open and he squelch squelched his way down the stairs. Eric produced and broke the shotgun he carried before moving to a gun case he removed the shells from the gun and stored them in the case before he wiped down the shotgun and ran a swab through the barrels even though the gun hadn't been fired. He set the gun in the case, too tired to fully break down clean and oil it at this juncture but he pulled the cleaning kit from the case as his colt could be cleaned from the comfort of an armchair in the library.

Flipping his bowler onto a coat rach he followed it with the sopping coat and then pulled off his equally wet boots upending the water in them onto the stone floor before peeling off his socks and wrining them. They could be dried infront of the fire. His other clothes were slightly sticky from sweat due to the run but he was too tired to bother with them or a bath currently. So with wet socks in one hand and the cleaning kit in the other he padded on bare feet to the library long enough to set the socks infront of the fire, and the kit in an arm chair before he made a bee line for the kitchen.

He quickly returned with a tea tray a pot of water and several cups. The pot he hung to heat over the library fire place and the tea tray he set on the table infront of his arm chair. With a huff of exhaustion he flopped into the over stuffed armchair and then pulled it up to the table. With that he unrolled the cleaning kit drew his colt. Unloaded it and began breaking it down to swab clean and oil. He nodded at Marcus and sat quitely cleaning waiting for the rest of the order to fill in. Rolling his neck he felt the knots in his shoulders. Tonight would require a hot bath too.