Grace sets out in the direction of the pub; observing the strange coloring of the sky, and odd grey crimson dilution, something rather foreboding about it. A mist begins and she curses the fact she couldn't find her cloak; I will be soaked before this night is done.
Making her way through the dirty streets and passing by children with dirt streaked faces, she recalls the pleasant path ways of her home village; the dust of their dirt roads was clean, fresh, and when wet, the earthy smell would hang in the air. Green pastures and forests surrounded the yard around her family home. It was a simple life, but unlike the time they were now in, her people had had a technology revolution. Part of the reason she and Stella were in this particular situation. It had all sounded so exciting and she had longed for adventure. She had met Jack and her life was changing in ways she had only imagined. Stella had found someone too, but Norman had secret plans and his motives were not honorable. Everything went terribly wrong when Stella murdered their incestuous brother and their parents forced them to leave. Maybe it was fear that caused everyone to become irrational... This fear was still following them, haunting Grace like a evil ghost.
Reaching the Britannia, she shakes off old ghosts and her skirts of water and enters. The landlord was an odd man and must have struck a strange bargain with Norman, for he always leered at Grace and said suggestive things whenever she went there. Making sure never to be alone with him, in case he acted upon his lewd remarks, she went to the side of the bar and spoke to the keep. Good day sir, I am expecting a message from my friend, do you have a note for me today, my name is Grace. Aye, I have a message for ye. You need to see thar landlord miss. He be wait'n for ye in his office; he jerks his thumb in direction of room she must go to. Can't you get it for me, I can pay you. Grace pulls out 6 shillings, but the barkeep shakes his head. He could with the money, but he would loose his job. Nope, you best git it your self miss. He walks away and tends the customers.
Grace wasn't prepared for a confrontation, but if she waited any longer, Norman may inflict more 'damage' than the landlord could muster. Reluctantly, she passes through the doorway the barkeep pointed to and continues down the dark, narrow hallway. She passes restrooms and a storeroom, before she gets to the door with a small hand-written sign that said "office." Hesitating, she wraps on the hard wood door and after hearing a clicking sound, the door flies open and she finds herself face to face with the landlord. His puckered face, worn with scares, and dark beady eyes set too close together, made her skin crawl. It was made even worse by his smile; stained and gaps in his teeth made his open mouth look like a rotting picket fence, with an odor to match. He was not as tall as Grace, but his body made up for that; he was stout,tattooed arms boasted his boxing days, and he could still move quickly, when he was inclined to do so, not advantageous for her if she needed to act. She could easily kill him, but that would only complicate an already tenuous situation. Cautiously, she enters the room, hearing the door click shut makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. What a pleasant surprise, my deliciously lovely girl! Rubbing his hands together in glee and anticipation, he giggles slightly. How nice of you to visit your Uncle Teddy; I've missed you my sweet...
20150923
20150921
Unfortunate Woman
The rain subsides for a short while and the grey of the day begins to turn dark, to mark the ending of a long weary, dreary day. Mary Kelly makes her way down Leman Street, trying to make ends meet by eking out a living on the streets. Her old and worn burgundy frock reflects like pools of blood in the puddles on the cobblestone street; wet and glistening. It's a tough life, with a seemly endless exsistance of strife, worry, and fear.
Turning onto Commercial Street, she sees the Britannia Pub and begins to sing, "Only a violet I plucked from my mother's grave when a boy..." Thinking to herself, maybe I'll see my fancy man tonight. The rain begins again, and she dashes into the pub. Lamp lighters make their way to illuminate the streets and curse the retched wet weather, wishing it would end. An end is near, but not the one everyone expects...
Turning onto Commercial Street, she sees the Britannia Pub and begins to sing, "Only a violet I plucked from my mother's grave when a boy..." Thinking to herself, maybe I'll see my fancy man tonight. The rain begins again, and she dashes into the pub. Lamp lighters make their way to illuminate the streets and curse the retched wet weather, wishing it would end. An end is near, but not the one everyone expects...
20150920
Set in Motion
Stella, have you seen my black cape? I can't seem to find where I left it. Grace is busy getting all their clothing and essentials together, as Norman instructed some days ago, for the next time rip. Stella sits back in the rocking chair and stares at the flames licking the small pile of wood, that is nearly turned to ash. Her patience is running out and with her final plans determined, she can barely contain her excitement...one more night and the deed will be done.
Stella, did you hear me? Grace stands next to her mesmerized sister rocking in a trance. Hey! Pay attention, will you? Mm, what? Stella comes out of her brain fog and looks up at her sister, who is annoyed. Looking somewhat confused, Stella asks, were you saying something? Are you OK Stella? Grace bends over and feels her forehead, worried the fever is back. Yes, I am alright, just preoccupied with my thoughts; nothing for you to be concerned about. Are you sure? Maybe you should go back to bed and rest. No, I am fine and I like sitting next to the fire. Well, alright, but let me get some more wood and we can heat up the last of your blood potion; then I think you should go to bed.
As you wish Gracie. Thank you for taking care of me. I sure would love to have some raw meat though...any chance there is some left? Stella knows there isn't any, but she wants her sister to go out. I'm sorry, but we finished it off yesterday. Oh, I see, said Stella in a pouty way.
Grace adds wood to the fire...snap...crackle...sizzle goes the fresh wood. Little puffs of smoke curl up towards the chimney, like tiny dancing ghosts. Stella turns to Grace, When did you last check the 'message center' (Britannia Public House Landlord) for word from Norman? Stoking the fire, Grace responds, It's been several days; I was concerned about you and your health condition. Well, I'm much better now and you know how Norman is. He may have left instructions and if we delay much longer, the consequences could be disastrous. Yes, I see your point. Grace pokes the fire and knits her brow in concern. Norman always gets very agitated just before a rip; no need to take any further chances. Stella can tell she has triggered her sister into action and a small grin tickles the corners of her mouth.
I will wait until you've had your medicine and no ill affects are present. If there is a message and we aren't leaving soon, then I'll see about getting some meat for you.
Thank you dear sister. What would we do without you?
Stella, did you hear me? Grace stands next to her mesmerized sister rocking in a trance. Hey! Pay attention, will you? Mm, what? Stella comes out of her brain fog and looks up at her sister, who is annoyed. Looking somewhat confused, Stella asks, were you saying something? Are you OK Stella? Grace bends over and feels her forehead, worried the fever is back. Yes, I am alright, just preoccupied with my thoughts; nothing for you to be concerned about. Are you sure? Maybe you should go back to bed and rest. No, I am fine and I like sitting next to the fire. Well, alright, but let me get some more wood and we can heat up the last of your blood potion; then I think you should go to bed.
As you wish Gracie. Thank you for taking care of me. I sure would love to have some raw meat though...any chance there is some left? Stella knows there isn't any, but she wants her sister to go out. I'm sorry, but we finished it off yesterday. Oh, I see, said Stella in a pouty way.
Grace adds wood to the fire...snap...crackle...sizzle goes the fresh wood. Little puffs of smoke curl up towards the chimney, like tiny dancing ghosts. Stella turns to Grace, When did you last check the 'message center' (Britannia Public House Landlord) for word from Norman? Stoking the fire, Grace responds, It's been several days; I was concerned about you and your health condition. Well, I'm much better now and you know how Norman is. He may have left instructions and if we delay much longer, the consequences could be disastrous. Yes, I see your point. Grace pokes the fire and knits her brow in concern. Norman always gets very agitated just before a rip; no need to take any further chances. Stella can tell she has triggered her sister into action and a small grin tickles the corners of her mouth.
I will wait until you've had your medicine and no ill affects are present. If there is a message and we aren't leaving soon, then I'll see about getting some meat for you.
Thank you dear sister. What would we do without you?
20150919
Another Hospital Visit
Hello again Inspector! Nurse Havershome grins widely as she greets the handsome policeman. It's a pleasure to see you so soon. What brings you here this time? Warren's smile is feeble compared to the young woman's, who is eager to make a better acquaintance. I'm sorry to say, its not under better circumstances this visit. I would like to speak to Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's physician, it's rather urgent. Of course, right away sir. Still grinning, she gives a half curtsy and dashes off. If the situation were not in dire straights, he might be more amused at the attentions of the attractive nurse.
Presently, Nurse Havershome reappears with a doctor trailing her. A man in his mid-fifties, with thick spectacles and wiry hair that looks like electricity styled it. Dr. Duchamp, this is Inspector Warren from Scotland Yard; he is here about Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh. Thank you nurse. Warren smiles and tips his hat. Nurse Havershome day dreams as she watches the two return down the hall.
Please have a seat, Inspector...Warren, Sir. Yes. Well, I spoke to your superior earlier and it was most distressing, most distressing indeed. Dr. Duchamp's eyes bulged behind the thick lenses, like a dead fishes, and shook his head just enough to animate his eccentric hair. With all the recent stress, Warren found it hard not to laugh and he could use a side ache right about now. I'm sorry I was unavailable Doctor, but I was working on the case involving your patient Ó Seachnasaigh. Superintendent Sugden is anxious to close this case and there are 'connections' to a more serious crime we are deeply concerned with. I understand you have a job to do, Inspector, but I am only concerned with my patients and this hospital. I do not appreciate a yelling man, even from Scotland Yard, demanding the impossible. As I tried to explain to him, we do not know why Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's health has rapidly declined and are still unable to determine a course of action. All the tests are negative and the symptoms are not responding to any treatments we have attempted so far. If it continues this way, the patient will die.
Warren moves his hand across his abdomen, recalling his own recent experience with the parasite and wonders, if indeed, this occurrence is the same. If so, the Dr. has diagnosed the right outcome and it may be sooner than he realizes. Feeling no empathy for the dying man, who has tried to murder his friend, Warren asks to see the man. It's vitally important I question him and find out what happened; it may assist in saving his life. Dr. Duchamp looked dubious, but agreed to a short visit. I will have one of the nurses escort you to the critical ward. You will have 15 minutes and no more. Thank you Doctor, I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in this important matter. It could save the life of another. Dr. Duchamp's bushy brows went up, but he made no remark. Calling the nurse's station, he explained what was to be done. If you'll wait outside, the nurse will be with you directly. Warren stands up and thanks the doctor again. If I discover anything significant, I'll stop by your office on my way out. With that, Warren closes the door and waits in the hall. I hope I do find something out...there is a connection here, somewhere, to the Ripper murderer.
Presently, Nurse Havershome reappears with a doctor trailing her. A man in his mid-fifties, with thick spectacles and wiry hair that looks like electricity styled it. Dr. Duchamp, this is Inspector Warren from Scotland Yard; he is here about Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh. Thank you nurse. Warren smiles and tips his hat. Nurse Havershome day dreams as she watches the two return down the hall.
Please have a seat, Inspector...Warren, Sir. Yes. Well, I spoke to your superior earlier and it was most distressing, most distressing indeed. Dr. Duchamp's eyes bulged behind the thick lenses, like a dead fishes, and shook his head just enough to animate his eccentric hair. With all the recent stress, Warren found it hard not to laugh and he could use a side ache right about now. I'm sorry I was unavailable Doctor, but I was working on the case involving your patient Ó Seachnasaigh. Superintendent Sugden is anxious to close this case and there are 'connections' to a more serious crime we are deeply concerned with. I understand you have a job to do, Inspector, but I am only concerned with my patients and this hospital. I do not appreciate a yelling man, even from Scotland Yard, demanding the impossible. As I tried to explain to him, we do not know why Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's health has rapidly declined and are still unable to determine a course of action. All the tests are negative and the symptoms are not responding to any treatments we have attempted so far. If it continues this way, the patient will die.
Warren moves his hand across his abdomen, recalling his own recent experience with the parasite and wonders, if indeed, this occurrence is the same. If so, the Dr. has diagnosed the right outcome and it may be sooner than he realizes. Feeling no empathy for the dying man, who has tried to murder his friend, Warren asks to see the man. It's vitally important I question him and find out what happened; it may assist in saving his life. Dr. Duchamp looked dubious, but agreed to a short visit. I will have one of the nurses escort you to the critical ward. You will have 15 minutes and no more. Thank you Doctor, I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in this important matter. It could save the life of another. Dr. Duchamp's bushy brows went up, but he made no remark. Calling the nurse's station, he explained what was to be done. If you'll wait outside, the nurse will be with you directly. Warren stands up and thanks the doctor again. If I discover anything significant, I'll stop by your office on my way out. With that, Warren closes the door and waits in the hall. I hope I do find something out...there is a connection here, somewhere, to the Ripper murderer.
20150918
Constabulary Consequences
Inspector Warren!! Young Constable Crane moves swiftly towards the Inspector, out of breath and cheeks flushed. Oh, sir, I'm glad I found you. Gasping for air and hands clasped at his rib-cage. I ran...all the...way here to fetch...you, sir. Warren looks back at Jack in alarm. Jack moves to the cell door for a better view. Crane, having caught his breath and eager to convey his important message, steps closer to Warren and in a hushed tone says, Ah, sir, what I have to tell you is confidential. He glances to Jack and back to Warren, it has to do with the prisoner. Eyes narrowed and lips pursed, Warren motions for them to leave.
Outside the cell block, Crane explains the Superintendent wants to see him immediately. Why didn't you just call me? Well, I did sir, but there was some confusion and well, I just decided to come here. Why didn't you take a cab? Ah, yes. Well, sir, I didn't have any money, sir and all the police buggy's were engaged. For future reference, Constable, the station can pay for cab fare when you're on official orders from Sugden. Now, please tell me what this is all about. Ah, shouldn't we be getting back to the Yard sir? The Superintendent was rather 'anxious' to speak with you in person. Yes, I am sure he would, but I have urgent matters to attend to first. Now, tell me what you know! Warren's voice raises higher and is dangerously close to loosing all patience with this young, green, officer.
Fearing further consequences, the young Constable explains the sudden turn of events. The London Hospital called, looking for you, and since you were out they asked to speak to your superior; I passed the call onto Superintendent Sugden and they informed him Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh had become deathly ill and they could not find a cause for it. They fear he will not live much longer and if we want his side of the story, we had better do it soon.
I am not going to ask how you got all those details. Warren gives Crane a disapproving look, but secretly is happy to know this without having to see Sugden. As it happens, that is where I was heading when you showed up Constable. That's not all sir. Crane, bursting to tell all he knows, continues. The hospital tried to contact the next of kin, but are having a hard time tracking down the brother-n-law, Mr. Namron. I told the Superintendent you got a package from this man and maybe you know him or where he can be found in Whitechapel; I remembered that was on the address. The Superintendent got really angry when he heard about the package.
Warren's head had a sledge hammer beating inside it and a chorus chanting, die, die, die! Bloody hell! Sir?! This has turned into one fucking mess. Sir. Warren balls his fists and clenches; the urge to pummel this fellow officer sours his mouth. Constable Crane, sensing that he may have been too enthusiastic in his effort to assist the detective, waits for a tongue lashing or worse.
Letting out a deep breath, Warren doesn't have time to teach Crane a lesson. OK, here is what we're going to do. Warren decides to put this over eager Constable to work, so he can get on with this investigation. Take this notebook and type up the statement I just took from the prisoner; make sure you check it thoroughly and it needs to be in triplicate. Call Superintendent Sugden and tell him you just missed me, but were told I was going to The London Hospital to get Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's statement, having successfully gotten one from Jackson. Stay here until I return and speak to no one else. Do you understand? Yes, sir, but won't the Superintendent want me to go to the hospital to fetch you? No, because you'll have called there and left me a message. Oh, right! Yes, I'll call. Get started Crane; I want that typed statement ready on my return. Certainly sir! The Constable beams and starts on his tasks. I'll prove how good I am; the signed document will be waiting on the Inspector's desk!
Outside the cell block, Crane explains the Superintendent wants to see him immediately. Why didn't you just call me? Well, I did sir, but there was some confusion and well, I just decided to come here. Why didn't you take a cab? Ah, yes. Well, sir, I didn't have any money, sir and all the police buggy's were engaged. For future reference, Constable, the station can pay for cab fare when you're on official orders from Sugden. Now, please tell me what this is all about. Ah, shouldn't we be getting back to the Yard sir? The Superintendent was rather 'anxious' to speak with you in person. Yes, I am sure he would, but I have urgent matters to attend to first. Now, tell me what you know! Warren's voice raises higher and is dangerously close to loosing all patience with this young, green, officer.
Fearing further consequences, the young Constable explains the sudden turn of events. The London Hospital called, looking for you, and since you were out they asked to speak to your superior; I passed the call onto Superintendent Sugden and they informed him Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh had become deathly ill and they could not find a cause for it. They fear he will not live much longer and if we want his side of the story, we had better do it soon.
I am not going to ask how you got all those details. Warren gives Crane a disapproving look, but secretly is happy to know this without having to see Sugden. As it happens, that is where I was heading when you showed up Constable. That's not all sir. Crane, bursting to tell all he knows, continues. The hospital tried to contact the next of kin, but are having a hard time tracking down the brother-n-law, Mr. Namron. I told the Superintendent you got a package from this man and maybe you know him or where he can be found in Whitechapel; I remembered that was on the address. The Superintendent got really angry when he heard about the package.
Warren's head had a sledge hammer beating inside it and a chorus chanting, die, die, die! Bloody hell! Sir?! This has turned into one fucking mess. Sir. Warren balls his fists and clenches; the urge to pummel this fellow officer sours his mouth. Constable Crane, sensing that he may have been too enthusiastic in his effort to assist the detective, waits for a tongue lashing or worse.
Letting out a deep breath, Warren doesn't have time to teach Crane a lesson. OK, here is what we're going to do. Warren decides to put this over eager Constable to work, so he can get on with this investigation. Take this notebook and type up the statement I just took from the prisoner; make sure you check it thoroughly and it needs to be in triplicate. Call Superintendent Sugden and tell him you just missed me, but were told I was going to The London Hospital to get Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's statement, having successfully gotten one from Jackson. Stay here until I return and speak to no one else. Do you understand? Yes, sir, but won't the Superintendent want me to go to the hospital to fetch you? No, because you'll have called there and left me a message. Oh, right! Yes, I'll call. Get started Crane; I want that typed statement ready on my return. Certainly sir! The Constable beams and starts on his tasks. I'll prove how good I am; the signed document will be waiting on the Inspector's desk!
20150917
Grave Thoughts
Still grasping Warren's arm, Jack squeezes it and nods yes, smiling. Warren walks stiffly through the cell door, feeling like his whole life imploded in just a few hours. Jack, wishing to convey important information, but limited in how he does it asks, When will my statement be ready to sign Inspector? Warren shuts and locks the cell. Clearing his throat, he responds. I'll type it up now; probably a couple of hours. Why? I would like to sign it in your presence, if that is permitted. Yes, I am lead on this case, so I can grant you your request. Thank you Inspector. One more thing, Jack's face turns grave, his voice serious and foreboding, I am extremely concerned about Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh. I did not wish him harm, but I fear others may feel differently. Warren sees Jack holding up the notes and realizes the gesture is referring to Norman. Details begin to fall into place and paint a gruesome picture. Oh god! The hospital visit and the syringe...Norman has done something to jeopardize Jack's life. That crazy, sadistic bastard!
20150916
Interrogation Pt. 2
Winding up the questioning, Warren finishes up with, Do you have anything else to add to your statement? No, sir. Warren completes his notes and adds the time. You'll need to sign a formal, typed version, which will be presented to the judge at your trial.
Putting his notebook away, Warren stands quietly for a moment, looking down at his shoes. Torn about his next step, he slowly moves closer to Jack and pulls out the note. Still, without making eye contact, he holds out the paper to Jack. Confused by Warren's attitude, Jack takes the note expecting an explanation from his friend. As soon as he opens it, he realizes its from Norman! Jack looks up at Warren and sees a sadness that rips at his heart. Completely bewildered now, Jack reads the note. Warren turns his back on Jack, as if giving him privacy, but in truth, he can't face what he believes the note explains.
Standing near the cell door, he pulls out the small metal device, concealed in his coat; staring down at this foreign object, sitting harmlessly in the palm of his hand,he has the urge the throw it to the floor and crush it, under his boots. A barely audible gasp escapes Jack's lips and he swiftly gets up, moving to Warren's side. Gently touching his arm, he holds out his other hand as a signal for Warren to give him the time displacement device. Warren transfers the object to Jack and turning his head, looks him straight in the eye...in a low voice...I would have done anything to help you.
Putting his notebook away, Warren stands quietly for a moment, looking down at his shoes. Torn about his next step, he slowly moves closer to Jack and pulls out the note. Still, without making eye contact, he holds out the paper to Jack. Confused by Warren's attitude, Jack takes the note expecting an explanation from his friend. As soon as he opens it, he realizes its from Norman! Jack looks up at Warren and sees a sadness that rips at his heart. Completely bewildered now, Jack reads the note. Warren turns his back on Jack, as if giving him privacy, but in truth, he can't face what he believes the note explains.
Standing near the cell door, he pulls out the small metal device, concealed in his coat; staring down at this foreign object, sitting harmlessly in the palm of his hand,he has the urge the throw it to the floor and crush it, under his boots. A barely audible gasp escapes Jack's lips and he swiftly gets up, moving to Warren's side. Gently touching his arm, he holds out his other hand as a signal for Warren to give him the time displacement device. Warren transfers the object to Jack and turning his head, looks him straight in the eye...in a low voice...I would have done anything to help you.
20150915
Interrogation Pt. 1
Laying on the cot, Jack looks up at the ceiling of his prison. The wooden beams of rough Sessile Oak, stained with nitro cellulose lacquer, made him wonder how quickly it would burn. The idea of being trapped and the cell walls burning, with flames so intense to melt flesh, made him sweat. I've got to escape and I'll do anything I need to. With those thoughts swirling in his brain, he sensed someone watching him. Expecting the Constable, he prepared himself for more insults and possible assault. Why this man found it necessary to abuse him and seemed to find a sadistic joy in the power he had over prisoners, Jack could not understand. Having eyes that did not match, and one being yellow, had always been a source of great pain and suffering. Devil! That's what they called him, as a child, and he would often be spit upon, even by women. Fear is a dangerous emotion and pushed far enough, will trigger acts of violence by many. Jack had fashioned an eye patch form a piece of cloth, but still the Constable taunted him every chance he got.
Reluctantly, Jack turned his head to see the face of his jailer only to find Warren standing there. Thinking he was dreaming, he blinked and sat up. As he did so, the lock clanked and in walked his friend. Nearly overcome by a flood of emotions, Jack stands up abruptly, causing his head to pound. Teetering slightly, he puts his arm out and studies himself with the hard wall of his cell. Not sure if the giddiness is from his head injury or at seeing his friend, possibly both, asks, excuse me inspector, but I seem to be lite headed, may I sit back down?
Warren, seeing the state of his friend and recovering from the anger at the Constable, forces himself to stand still. Wishing nothing more but to help and comfort his friend, speaks in a disassociated tone, causing himself to wince at the sound of his own voice. Yes, but word is that you're expected to recover fully and so there will be no special treatment. Yes, sir, I understand and will cooperate. Jack smiles, which makes Warren feel even worse. Beginning the interrogation, Warren takes out his notebook and pen. You have not given a clear account of the incident in Petticoat Market and why you attempted to kill a man. Fortunately for you and Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh, he will also have a full recovery, making it an assault charge. If you had succeeded in killing him...well, you would be headed for the gallows. Perspiration begins to form on Warren's brow; he never noticed how stuffy the cells were before now.
Fully aware that Warren has to be convincing, the duty Constable can hear most of what is being said, unless whispered, not to mention having a great deal at stake in this situation, Jack explains the circumstances surrounding the incident and what he remembered about the attack. Warren writes down the details and asks a few clarifying questions. Jack begins to have an odd feeling as he watches Warren. His behavior is detached and unfeeling, yet the expression in his eyes betrays pain. Is he afraid for some reason? Has something happened with Grace and Stella? Jack found the note, in his clothes, so maybe Warren confronted them without him...would he have risked that? Something is very wrong...
Reluctantly, Jack turned his head to see the face of his jailer only to find Warren standing there. Thinking he was dreaming, he blinked and sat up. As he did so, the lock clanked and in walked his friend. Nearly overcome by a flood of emotions, Jack stands up abruptly, causing his head to pound. Teetering slightly, he puts his arm out and studies himself with the hard wall of his cell. Not sure if the giddiness is from his head injury or at seeing his friend, possibly both, asks, excuse me inspector, but I seem to be lite headed, may I sit back down?
Warren, seeing the state of his friend and recovering from the anger at the Constable, forces himself to stand still. Wishing nothing more but to help and comfort his friend, speaks in a disassociated tone, causing himself to wince at the sound of his own voice. Yes, but word is that you're expected to recover fully and so there will be no special treatment. Yes, sir, I understand and will cooperate. Jack smiles, which makes Warren feel even worse. Beginning the interrogation, Warren takes out his notebook and pen. You have not given a clear account of the incident in Petticoat Market and why you attempted to kill a man. Fortunately for you and Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh, he will also have a full recovery, making it an assault charge. If you had succeeded in killing him...well, you would be headed for the gallows. Perspiration begins to form on Warren's brow; he never noticed how stuffy the cells were before now.
Fully aware that Warren has to be convincing, the duty Constable can hear most of what is being said, unless whispered, not to mention having a great deal at stake in this situation, Jack explains the circumstances surrounding the incident and what he remembered about the attack. Warren writes down the details and asks a few clarifying questions. Jack begins to have an odd feeling as he watches Warren. His behavior is detached and unfeeling, yet the expression in his eyes betrays pain. Is he afraid for some reason? Has something happened with Grace and Stella? Jack found the note, in his clothes, so maybe Warren confronted them without him...would he have risked that? Something is very wrong...
20150914
Strange 'Gift'
Warren arrives at the Whitechapel Police Station late in the day; his 'discussion' with Superintendent Sugden took longer than expected and receiving the unexpected package from T.R. Namron...a strange sense of humor, that was not lost on Warren. (T (The) R (Ripper) Namron (Norman) has to be.)
Not knowing what to expect, Warren finds an empty office and shuts the door. Carefully, he cuts the string and lifts the lid. Half expecting some rotting flesh or organs, he holds his breath, but it was not organic. In fact, the object was small, metal, and had moving parts; like a clock or timer. Something seemed familiar about it's design and the dials...what a minute...this looks like Jack's strange apparatus. Turning it over, Warren sees that it could fit over or to something. Why would Norman send this to him? Checking the wrapping, still inside the box, maybe there is another piece to complete the component. All he found was a note addressed to...Jack! Marked urgent. Hesitating for a moment, he opens the note, only to discover it's written in a language he doesn't recognize. Concealing both items, inside his coat, he makes his way to the cells. Feeling a strange emptiness in his guts, he enters the cell block room with trepidation.
Hey, Inspector, come to visit Jackson...again? Yes, I need to interrogate him; I've just come from the Superintendent and he wants answers. Yeah, I bet he does. A smirk from the Constable makes Warren set his jaw in annoyance. Doc was here earlier and says Jackson will be fine in a couple of days. Seems like a waste of time to me; guys guilty and 'll probably hang for it. Warren's face clouds with anger at the Constable's attitude and comments. Give me the key to cell 8 Constable, Warrens tone is cutting and authoritative, I have work to do. The Constable, realizing he has over stepped the mark, meekly hands the key to Warren. Yes, Inspector.
Not knowing what to expect, Warren finds an empty office and shuts the door. Carefully, he cuts the string and lifts the lid. Half expecting some rotting flesh or organs, he holds his breath, but it was not organic. In fact, the object was small, metal, and had moving parts; like a clock or timer. Something seemed familiar about it's design and the dials...what a minute...this looks like Jack's strange apparatus. Turning it over, Warren sees that it could fit over or to something. Why would Norman send this to him? Checking the wrapping, still inside the box, maybe there is another piece to complete the component. All he found was a note addressed to...Jack! Marked urgent. Hesitating for a moment, he opens the note, only to discover it's written in a language he doesn't recognize. Concealing both items, inside his coat, he makes his way to the cells. Feeling a strange emptiness in his guts, he enters the cell block room with trepidation.
Hey, Inspector, come to visit Jackson...again? Yes, I need to interrogate him; I've just come from the Superintendent and he wants answers. Yeah, I bet he does. A smirk from the Constable makes Warren set his jaw in annoyance. Doc was here earlier and says Jackson will be fine in a couple of days. Seems like a waste of time to me; guys guilty and 'll probably hang for it. Warren's face clouds with anger at the Constable's attitude and comments. Give me the key to cell 8 Constable, Warrens tone is cutting and authoritative, I have work to do. The Constable, realizing he has over stepped the mark, meekly hands the key to Warren. Yes, Inspector.
20150913
Miracle or Curse?
Oh, Grace...you're a miracle worker! I feel so much better and its all thanks to you. Stella lays on the bed, smiling and looking like her 'old' self. Happy to be untied and in full capacity of all her faculties, Stella is relieved to be over the worst of her illness.
I did the best I could and honestly, I wasn't sure it was going to work. Grace rings her hands, releasing some of the tension from the past two days. Moving towards the bed she continues. You were very bad this time and I was scared to death I didn't get the ingredients mixed correctly. Sitting on the bed, Grace feels calmer and suddenly very tired. It was such a desperate situation and you looked...Grace chokes back the tears...so bad; I thought I'd lost you.
Oh, Gracie, I'm alright, see? Stella sits up and holds out her arms, smiling. The sisters hug tightly and Stella kisses her sister's tear stained cheek. I'll be just fine, in a couple of days, you'll see. Stroking the blonde curls around Grace's face, Stella begins to organize her thoughts into a plan of revenge. A sadistic smile creeps at the corners of her mouth with the realization of irony that her final victim resides at #13...how 'lucky' for some.
I did the best I could and honestly, I wasn't sure it was going to work. Grace rings her hands, releasing some of the tension from the past two days. Moving towards the bed she continues. You were very bad this time and I was scared to death I didn't get the ingredients mixed correctly. Sitting on the bed, Grace feels calmer and suddenly very tired. It was such a desperate situation and you looked...Grace chokes back the tears...so bad; I thought I'd lost you.
Oh, Gracie, I'm alright, see? Stella sits up and holds out her arms, smiling. The sisters hug tightly and Stella kisses her sister's tear stained cheek. I'll be just fine, in a couple of days, you'll see. Stroking the blonde curls around Grace's face, Stella begins to organize her thoughts into a plan of revenge. A sadistic smile creeps at the corners of her mouth with the realization of irony that her final victim resides at #13...how 'lucky' for some.
20150912
Dr. Watson's Patient
Hey, you! The jailer speaks to Jack through the bars of his cell. Wake up man, the doctor is here to check your head again. The lock on the cell door releases its function with a clanking tumble and the door hinges groan for oil as they swing the door open. Jack sits up and watches as Dr. Watson comes over and sits next to him.
Thank you constable; I'll call you when I am finished. Turning to his patient, he peers closely at this unusual young man with two colored eyes. How are you feeling today? Jack winces a bit as the doctor probes the healing wounds on his face and head. Better sir, thank you. I still feel a bit foggy, but my headache is lessening. Good, good...now I want you to follow my finger, with your eyes only. Do you feel dizzy or lite headed? No sir. Mmm, seems you're improving rather quickly. The doctor continues to feel around Jack's face and neck area. The swelling has gone down and you are no longer feverish...good, good. I want you to continue with the medicine, they are giving it to you? Yes sir, twice a day. Alright, I'll leave instructions about the medication, several more days of that, and I'll be back to check on your head wound day after tomorrow. One more thing, please walk across the room and then come back. Jack gets up from the low cot and does as instructed. Mmm, OK, now with your eyes shut. Slowly now. Stop, turn around and walk towards my voice...yes, very good. Stop. Open your eyes. How do you feel now? Jack felt a bit disorientated from walking with his eyes closed, but his legs felt sturdy under him. He explains this to Dr. Watson, who smiles an approval of progress. Good lad. Time for you to rest some more. Jack lays down on the cot as Dr. Watson gets up to leave.
Thank you sir, you've been very kind to me. I might not have made it, without your expert ministration. Well, you keep doing what I tell you and you'll be right as rain. Jack gives his biggest grin and the Doctor gives a quick wink as he dawns his top hat. Bag in hand, Dr. Watson calls for the jailer. All done doc? Yes, this young man will be fit as a fiddle very soon. Don't know as to why you both'ern doc...'ell hang in the end.
Thank you constable; I'll call you when I am finished. Turning to his patient, he peers closely at this unusual young man with two colored eyes. How are you feeling today? Jack winces a bit as the doctor probes the healing wounds on his face and head. Better sir, thank you. I still feel a bit foggy, but my headache is lessening. Good, good...now I want you to follow my finger, with your eyes only. Do you feel dizzy or lite headed? No sir. Mmm, seems you're improving rather quickly. The doctor continues to feel around Jack's face and neck area. The swelling has gone down and you are no longer feverish...good, good. I want you to continue with the medicine, they are giving it to you? Yes sir, twice a day. Alright, I'll leave instructions about the medication, several more days of that, and I'll be back to check on your head wound day after tomorrow. One more thing, please walk across the room and then come back. Jack gets up from the low cot and does as instructed. Mmm, OK, now with your eyes shut. Slowly now. Stop, turn around and walk towards my voice...yes, very good. Stop. Open your eyes. How do you feel now? Jack felt a bit disorientated from walking with his eyes closed, but his legs felt sturdy under him. He explains this to Dr. Watson, who smiles an approval of progress. Good lad. Time for you to rest some more. Jack lays down on the cot as Dr. Watson gets up to leave.
Thank you sir, you've been very kind to me. I might not have made it, without your expert ministration. Well, you keep doing what I tell you and you'll be right as rain. Jack gives his biggest grin and the Doctor gives a quick wink as he dawns his top hat. Bag in hand, Dr. Watson calls for the jailer. All done doc? Yes, this young man will be fit as a fiddle very soon. Don't know as to why you both'ern doc...'ell hang in the end.
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