Lost in a Fog

1888. London is in a grip of fear and I, Jack, have arrived to stop it. I must be insane and all my caution taken by a gale. My insides feel like shredded newspaper, filled with the graphic horrors this mad killer has been committing, I am sick to my stomach.

As I stand, in a narrow lane, the famous fog swirls around me like ghosts, there is another blackness in the night not far off. As I tweak the dials on my wrist cuff, sensors begin to register an object in the alley to my right. If I am to ID and catch this killer, I must move with whatever caution I still posses. At least I had the sense to wear rubber soled shoes, allowing me to move silently towards my quarry. As I come to the end of the alley, I see it. Not my mad killer, but the result of the insanity that very recently occurred. Approaching the body, I have a sense of being watched; I quickly scan the area around me, but only dark windows and silent bricks are seen. The feeling is gone now and I have work to do. Checking the dials once more, they register DEAD... I didn't need technology to tell me that. I start my gruesome task, an autopsy of sorts on the crime scene... I don't have much time... what an evil devil come from hell.