November 10, 1888
A man sat at a corner table towards the back of a pub in London's East End: Whitechapel. His black top hat sat in front of him on the table next to his glass of beer. He had a walking stick that was currently resting against the table. As he sat drinking he noticed a woman sidling up to a drunken man, flaunting herself.
The man at the table narrowed his icy gray eyes as his fingers twitched. His right hand slipped into the cloak around his shoulders and his fingers brushed the handle of his surgical knife. Just as he imagined his knife slashing deep into the dirty prostitute's neck, someone ran into the pub holding the days paper and waving his arms frantically.
"The Ripper has struck again!" the boy said loudly and frantically.
The man at the table pulled his had out of his cloak and grabbed his top hat as he stood. He put it on and grabbed his walking stick. He made his way to the entrance and as he reached the boy going off about Jack the Ripper, he shoved him out of his way with one arm, swiping the paper as he did so.
As he walked out, he read the paper.
'Ripper Strikes Again in Brutal, Savage Murder!'
Rain began to fall steadily as he tossed the paper to the ground into a puddle. An evil, twisted grin spread across his clean shaven face, and a murderous glint rose into his icy grey eyes.