A strange place to sleep, I know, but nobody uses it.
It keeps West from deciding to check up on me between weight lifting.
Sometimes I kind of think he believes guns are muscles.
Salome and I were the last partners still stationed here.
So we pretty much had everything to ourselves.
The rest of us... Bureaucrats really.
We have a dangerous job.
They have less of one...
Although I expect some will come to me.
Expect to be trained...
We shall see if they have the will to murder.
However it seems that Felix has found this spot.
Or who or whatever is delivering these letters to me.
Here it is.
"Dear Ember Fay.
As you surely recall, I told you I would conduct an interview with this man who goes by the name. "Ian McCormack."
Upon asking at the flats in the slums to which I was given an address, I was told that the fellow was still in residence by the landlord. There are reasons I avoid this area normally. It is simply the stench of refuse, of man and otherwise. Young children sleep on the streets amongst the filth.
The rich look the other way, but the poor have no other choice.
It is odd to me how such a man as who could enter one of the more flamboyant dens could be found here. But as I knocked on the door I realised.
This man was one who was truly changed by the loss of his daughter. The man who opened the door. He was but a shadow. Maybe a businessman once upon a time, but there and then he was a gin soaked wretch. He was unfortunate enough to have loved and lost.
"What do you want?" He asked me quietly.
"I am looking into the death of a woman."
"Please not Elisabeth, anyone but her." He took me by my lapel and pulled me inside.
"I heard tell of your daughter, I do not know if it is her. But there may be links between the young woman we found and your daughter." I pushed myself away from him. "Tell me, Mister McCormack. Did your daughter know of someone named 'Father?'"
"I do not know. She told me she had found a new family under a gentleman." He looked distraught, his hand moving to the half empty gin bottle. His floor was littered with them.
"Did you get a name for this gentleman?"
"Jack sir. Springheeled Jack." He took a long draught of the liquid, started to laugh. "A fairytale. A phantom of the night."
"I saw him Sir. He was at my daughter's window one night as she slept... I had taken to guarding her from this fiend after she was found with bruises as if she had been caned. He must have worn a mask. I saw none of his features. He said nothing. And then, one night..." He sat down upon the bed.
"I am to assume your daughters bedroom was high from the ground?" This was an interesting story from a man who's life may be better served in bedlam.
"Yes sir. And then... Then she left. I had allowed sleep to overtake me, and when I awoke I saw her. She was only fourteen... Sometimes I still see her... At my door like nothing ever happened." He started to sob.
"Please Mister McCormack. Tell me what happened and I shall leave you to your grief."
"I saw her awake, smiling. She looked at me as if I was not even there. There was a man, a tall man. I understand why she called him a gentleman, for those were his clothes. A black suite and tie, tailored to him. I... I cannot recall his face. It was night time, they escaped through the window" He frowned at me once more. "You believe me do you not? You believe me to be sane. Please tell me I did what I could. I am sorry Elisabeth, I am so so sorry." He lost control of himself, his head in his hands.
I am afraid this is all I could gain from him so I left.
All I see in this is the fact a girl found a lover and decided to elope. However the comparison of Springheeled Jack is genuinely interesting. Especially when you recall the man Fairy Fay described by the same name.
I believe I shall check up upon him again in the given future. Should he experience a similar untimely demise, I shall take his story seriously. Although if he does. I may worry for my own safety.
I await your orders.
Liberté. Égalité. Fraternité.
Jules Chénier"
It is odd to me how such a man as who could enter one of the more flamboyant dens could be found here. But as I knocked on the door I realised.
This man was one who was truly changed by the loss of his daughter. The man who opened the door. He was but a shadow. Maybe a businessman once upon a time, but there and then he was a gin soaked wretch. He was unfortunate enough to have loved and lost.
"What do you want?" He asked me quietly.
"I am looking into the death of a woman."
"Please not Elisabeth, anyone but her." He took me by my lapel and pulled me inside.
"I heard tell of your daughter, I do not know if it is her. But there may be links between the young woman we found and your daughter." I pushed myself away from him. "Tell me, Mister McCormack. Did your daughter know of someone named 'Father?'"
"I do not know. She told me she had found a new family under a gentleman." He looked distraught, his hand moving to the half empty gin bottle. His floor was littered with them.
"Did you get a name for this gentleman?"
"Jack sir. Springheeled Jack." He took a long draught of the liquid, started to laugh. "A fairytale. A phantom of the night."
"I saw him Sir. He was at my daughter's window one night as she slept... I had taken to guarding her from this fiend after she was found with bruises as if she had been caned. He must have worn a mask. I saw none of his features. He said nothing. And then, one night..." He sat down upon the bed.
"I am to assume your daughters bedroom was high from the ground?" This was an interesting story from a man who's life may be better served in bedlam.
"Yes sir. And then... Then she left. I had allowed sleep to overtake me, and when I awoke I saw her. She was only fourteen... Sometimes I still see her... At my door like nothing ever happened." He started to sob.
"Please Mister McCormack. Tell me what happened and I shall leave you to your grief."
"I saw her awake, smiling. She looked at me as if I was not even there. There was a man, a tall man. I understand why she called him a gentleman, for those were his clothes. A black suite and tie, tailored to him. I... I cannot recall his face. It was night time, they escaped through the window" He frowned at me once more. "You believe me do you not? You believe me to be sane. Please tell me I did what I could. I am sorry Elisabeth, I am so so sorry." He lost control of himself, his head in his hands.
I am afraid this is all I could gain from him so I left.
All I see in this is the fact a girl found a lover and decided to elope. However the comparison of Springheeled Jack is genuinely interesting. Especially when you recall the man Fairy Fay described by the same name.
I believe I shall check up upon him again in the given future. Should he experience a similar untimely demise, I shall take his story seriously. Although if he does. I may worry for my own safety.
I await your orders.
Liberté. Égalité. Fraternité.
Jules Chénier"
No comments:
Post a Comment