Only high spires rose above the heavy fog that smothered the city of Khundushar. At street level the lamplighters were out in force, only the taverns and brothels down by the docks being lively and boisterous. One other person walked the city streets, a cloaked and hooded figure who was prowling the border between an upper-class district and the cluster of red-light blocks next to it.
Moving instinctively between shadows made by the wide buttresses of grand townhouses the figure paused, reached beneath their cloak. They shivered as they touched the hilt of the sword hanging from their belt, a perverse fire lighting in their belly. They'd seen the papers, seen how the masses were being warned of them. 'Jack the Ripper'. A soft laugh escaped them as a particular cartoon came to mind before they stilled as feminine laughter reached their ears.
A nearby open door cast dim light into the street. A man and woman were embracing, she drew a shawl around her shoulders as she made her way down the townhouse's steps to ground level. The woman, undoubtedly a whore, had no concerns about the figure walking a little distance behind her, not everyone succumbing to fear of the Ripper. It made the sharp gasp, the aborted scream, that much sweeter when the figure stabbed the whore in the back, as the blade pierced vital organs. The whore was allowed to slide from the sword a moment later, crumpling into a heap at her killer's feet.
The figure knelt and cast back their hood, reaching out to touch the dying whore. She tried to crawl away, her mouth working uselessly as she glanced back and caught sight of her killer.
Jacqueline Vale rose to her feet, smoothing the corset and dress she wore beneath her cloak. She brought a bloodied finger to her mouth, mewling as she sucked it clean. After cleaning and sheathing her sword Jacqueline let the Ripper's calling card fall onto the whore's corpse, glancing in both directions along the street before striding into the fog.
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