Thread: The Butcher's Bill (Prince x LeatrixSage)

London, Fall 1881. ---- The wind was still on this early Fall day and a yellowish-brown fog of coal smoke hung over London like a thick blanket. The sun penetrated through that murky haze only weakly and the streets were as gloomy as dusk despite the tolling of the mid-day bells. On one East London back street, really more of a mews that had become a popular short-cut rather than a proper street, a cordon of blue coated policemen held a curious crowd back from a narrow alley between two warehouses fronting the Thames. There was a buzz that another bloody murder had occurred in this rough neighborhood, potentially the work of the killer that the sensationalist papers had already nicknamed the Butcher. Two of the bobbies parted the crowd with shouts and waves of their truncheons to allow a black, open topped carriage to enter the cordon. The sole passenger exited by vaulting over the side door to land in a half-crouch on the ground by the surprised bobbies. He gripped a thick, dark wood cane in one hand, its metal end ringing loud as it struck the cobblestones hard from the force of his jump. His other hand held a small black leather bag with a steel handle. Straightening, he nodded his head curtly at the the pair of policeman, adjusting the black morning coat jacket that hung down like a cape to the tops of his leather, cavalry-style boots. A dark bowler hat sat on top of his head, brim pulled down over a pale and hard face that had brooding grey eyes and thin lips curled in a slight frown. A slightly unkempt mane of black hair hung down to the middle of his neck. The younger of the two policemen's eyes widened as he noticed a leather holster strapped to the man's thigh with a silver American style revolver pistol gleaming inside. Look lively lads, I want to know if any of this lot standing around has seen anything, the man growled out as he brushed by the pair of stunned bobbies without waiting for a reply. His gaze was focused on the the dark alleyway and he stepped into it carefully, cane tapping lightly as he walked. Oy, Cap'n, is he a Magician? asked the younger, rookie policemen to his partner. He was still visibly shocked at the sight of an armed man, dressed like no officer of the law he had ever seen, vaulting out of his carriage to take over the crime scene with no hesitation. A Magician? No you fool, said his older, grey bearded companion with an exasperated snort at his partner's ignorance. 'Ats Lord Ethan Colton, Her Royal Majesty's Magical Crimes Investigator. And he's no blimey Magician. Oh, he studied at Blackfriars College with 'at lot, but he dropped out and joined the Army. Fought in Africa for four years and two wars, he did. The two bobbies crept closer to the alley mouth, peering in to watch as Lord Colton inspected the body. They had looked in earlier and found a gruesome scene. A young woman with her throat slashed and what looked like half her blood spilled out across the dirty alley. And on the ground, in her blood, a pentagram drawn. Definitely a crime outside the realm of normal police work. Now, 'is father was a Magician, 'ats the right of it. Royal Magician General in fact. 'At is, until 'is murder when Lord Colton were at Blackfriars. No 'uns figured that crime out yet, though there's 'em who say 'ats why Lord Colton took his current post. He knows a bit about magic, but the Lord's no Magician himself anymore than I am, the older bobby continued, enjoying his frequent chances to share his knowledge with the rookie. He knows enough though, to handle 'is own against the bad sort of creatures as is out here at night. The demons and blood drinkers, and what'not. The younger bobby shivered at the thought. That kind of work was above his pay grade for sure. The mysterious investigator placed his bag down and withdrew from it a monocle with dark leather straps. The red lens on the eyepiece glowed softly in the dim alley and both bobbies crept forward in fascination, brows furrowing and craning their necks to get a better glance as they strained to see what the device was. Lord Colton removed his hat and pulled the monocle over his right eye, adjusting it around his head with practiced ease. When done, he suddenly turned to glance up at the bobbies and fix them with that glowing red lens. They jumped backwards in embarrassed fright, then quickly spun away to look back at the crowd while swallowing nervously. Let's leave the investigator to 'is work, shall we then, said the older policeman with a shaky voice. In privacy now, Ethan paced around the body and gazed through that monocle at the scrawled pentagram and blood spray that had even reached the brick walls around him. He knelt by the corpse, studying the wound on the throat and lifted a lifeless wrist to scrutinize a set of red scrapes on the pale skin. With a sigh, he grabbed his bag, cane and hat and walked back out to the mouth of the alley where the suddenly alert pair of bobbies were scanning the cordon and pressing crowd intently. Ethan meticulously reviewed the onlookers himself, turning in a slow half-circle as he heard their excited whispers at seeing this stranger with the unusual eyepiece. And what's the news from the street lads? he finally asked the bobbies, who startled at his voice. Any witnesses? Anyone know the victim? Family found yet? The older policeman bobbed his head and replied. She was found early this morning when they opened the warehouse, M'Lord, he answered hesitantly, glancing at a notepad he pulled from his pocket. And no corpse was seen at close last night, on the workers' word. All her jewelry was still on her and we only opened her purse to find any papers. Her money was still in there, almost three quid, M'Lord. A porter in the warehouse claims he's seen her 'fore. Says she might stay at the Lady's Boarding House on Wapping Road, Miss Cromley's place. That porter's got an alibi himself, but ah've got 'is name down, to be sure. She might've worked at a factory, as a seamstress down by Limehouse. Miss Cromley's on Wapping, very good work, Sir, said Lord Colton. Then in a curt, authoritative tone, he ordered Look into the factory and go door to door on this street. Send word to my offices if you find anything as soon as you do. Have them remove the body and clean up the scene, and get this circus out of here before the press makes up too many stories. Not a word out of your lips to the reporter and tell the warehouse workers to mind their mouths as well! Good day, lads! Without another glance, Ethan strode off and climbed into his carriage, his driver whipping the horses forward and parting the crowd with shouted warnings and vulgar curses. Ethan brooded as he placed his monocle back into his bag. Four murders by the Butcher in two weeks and still no clues to help him track this elusive killer. Last edited Sep 1, 2020