The Big Red One

Allow me to set the scene.
Flashing lights,
the thud thud thud of the bass
as bodies writhe on the dance floor.

A New York Nightclub.
As much as things have been delaying the search,
I am here to meet someone who knows of him.

Felix Felidae

I see an older man.
Early Forties I think, I could be wrong though.
Stands like a soldier, but weak.
As if he has not eaten in days.

He had sent me an email a little while back.
It had taken until now to get him comfortable enough to meet with me.

"So you decided to come?"
He speaks just loud enough for me to hear him.
"Are you armed?"
I tilt my head. "Of course not."

"If I were to search you, would I find anything?" He eyes me carefully.
Suspicion is everywhere, I should have more of it...
"A phone, a wallet, chewing gum and a piece of string.
Are you worried I am going to kill you?"

He frowns at me.
"Just look, we had a deal.
Just answer my questions about Stone,
and I will tell you about what I know."

"Want to go somewhere quieter?"

"Here is fine."
He has noticed I am uncomfortable.
Despite the noise he is eager to stay and chat.

"Why did you kill him?"
"I did not pull the trigger you know."
"But you may as well have." He seems agitated.

I ask him if he had killed anyone before.
Ask him to understand that I was under orders.
Salome only shot him because I was in danger.

"And your life is worth more than his?"
Shrugging, I look at my beer.
"Wasn't yours when you were in combat?"

"He was my SO during Desert Storm."
He supposes I am too young to know about it.

"He called me lucky, you know?
Took a round to the head.
The helmet stopped it.
Bullets curved around me, like the Matrix."

"Why do you do what you do?
and don't give me that Good Soldier bullshit.
We both know it's not true."

I look away. "It keeps me alive."
He starts "You know it is not the only way."
I almost punch him, but I stay quiet.

He finishes his beer and stands.
"That is all I wanted to know..." He turns to leave.
I stand, moving to stop him.
"What about the information?"

"I want to talk to the Ember that isn't only following orders.
He said you would be like that.
Holding yourself like a soldier when we both know you're nothing but a coward."

"You sicken me."

I let him leave.
I head outside soon after.
He is waiting for me a few blocks away from the office.
A parking lot.

He punches me in the face.
I pull the knife from my coat, my arm against his chest.
I shove him into a parked car.
I press the blade against his throat.

"Tell me what you know." I hiss.
He spits in my face.
I watch as a drop of blood runs down his throat.

I smile.

He gives me a curious expression, causing me to move away.
Just a couple of steps, I do not want to kill him, but I will.
He fishes in his pocket every motion slow,
I keep the knife ready.

"He came to see me. An old man named Felix. He told me to give you this."
He holds it out, a small carved wooden bird.

It sits in the palm of his hand easily,
the details make me
make me
nonononononolondonbridgeisfallingdown

I remember something.
It hurts.
I move to take the object.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him.

It is all so fast.

I push the knife into his belly,
the curve of the blade forces the slice upwards.
I must have done it wrong,
I must have missed his heart.

He staggers back against the car again.
Surprise?
"He promised me an end." He whispers,
the pain is clear in his voice.

I try to make it faster.
Make it end faster.
I shove the sharp point into his neck,
pull back toward me.

Blood covers my black coat,
my face,
my hair
my hands.

I hold him close, shushing him softly.

When he stops breathing, I check his pockets.
I hear something crumpling.
A letter.
I will type it up when I have time.

"Lucky," I do not know your name.
But rest peacefully now.

Jack the Ripper

As you probably know,
West and I have been assigned together.
Sometimes, I want to punch him.
Sometimes I want to gut him...

That last post.
I believe I just fell quiet.
I remember blood.
I remember feeling betrayed by him.

London bridge is falling down.
Over and over again.

Anyway.
A while back, I...
I made a promise that I would copy these letters.
Brace yourselves.

"October 1st 1888

Dear Ember.

A double killing, an ear removed from a victim. Just like his letter said. I am sure you have already heard this by the time you read this...

I believe I detest this murderous madman already.

Of course I mean no offence to your own noble efforts in the aid of Mother. My quarrel is with the fact the papers have caught onto such a heinous crime, and such a horrific character. I lied to you when we first met. I knew you were a killer, I told you that I was as well. I have not been forced to use the revolver I bought when I first came to Whitechapel. I have never taken a life.

I have been reassigned to this case, which has allowed me time to look through the previous records of crimes relating to Fairy Fay and John Smith. What disgusts me is what poor records are kept of crimes, I understand the Metropolitan is stressed, but surely some form of order, chronological or alphabetical.

Nontheless, per your orders, I have retrieved files of other witnesses who mention either "The Gentleman" or "Spring Heeled Jack." It is truly shocking how often men and women will mention a gentleman, such a broad word. I have also cross referenced such files with missing persons reports of said witnesses or those who share their surnames.

A task which has taken a great deal of my time, I will have you know.

I enclose a list of names, each of which I shall follow upon.

Please visit again, my friend. I miss the sent of french parfum. Also, keep safe.

Liberté Égalité Fraternité

Jules Chénier

P.S If you are assigned our Ripper, perhaps you could turn him to me. He will surely receive the noose. Ensuring both my goals and your own."

I was wondering when Jack the Ripper would receive a mention... 

Also it seems like Past Ember's giving him orders?

Or is Mother?

I do not know. It is interesting to read though.

This one is undated.

"Ember Fay,

I believe I have ordered you to take time away from the man, that includes not opening any letters you believe to be his. I also know that on the night of October 10th, 1888. You visited him against our explicit orders.

I understand that it may be difficult to distinguish his handwriting, and I understand you find it difficult emotionally, due to certain attentions, but I would not like a soul such as yourself to receive the kind of punishment that men and women like yourself truly do not need.

You will find a knife enclosed, I hope it is to your liking, blades like this will be useful against the common blade, and provided you can evade their own stab, you can bring your mark down easily, stabbing upward through the belly and under their breast. The death will be quicker and more painless. I understand your issues with causing pain to people. Even considering how you comfort those who require it. It is kindness that drives you. Does it not, dear Ember?

As such I believe you will find your next mark particularly difficult. I was debating if I should send you upon this mission, you are so often better suited to killing men who fight back, Not a Lady with child, who's husband needs to understand that we take what we will.

I await confirmation of her demise.

Mother"

I received the knife I use now with the letter.

Swan has seen it, old, lightly curved.

It feels it, too. 


The handle has rough worn leather.

But it looks well looked after.

Maybe it is the same one Mother sent Past Ember.

We have a small job to do.

I do not really wish to talk to West.

The dying are much better conversationalists.

They understand how precious life is.

A lesson in something or other

Mother orders me to train Ember.

I do as I'm told.

Mother tells me to teach Ember to drive.

I do as I'm told.

Mother tells me to keep Ember under guard.

Of course, I do as I'm told.

But being this genderconfused freak's partner? When did Mother even begin to think I'd like it?

Hello. I am West. If Ember's said anything about me, it's a lie.

I know I should be a better person than this, but I really think your dear Ember needs a wake up call as to how to act amongst people.

You see, in a partner I need to know where loyalties lie. Maybe it's with us, or maybe it's with Salome. I mean, I respect her, but who knows what they did together. It could be with David too, I was passing by the room one time after one of their punishments. I could have sworn I'd heard moaning. Or Swan, I mean they did spend the night in a hotel room after all...

Or it could be Tau, or Theta or those runners it keeps sleeping with emailing to, or maybe even that son of a bitch Moriarty.

Speaking of Moriarty...

I'm not the only one who looks at the kid differently after she gets shot in the head and Ember... Ember doesn't even get a bruise. Maybe they were told to leave the kid out of it. And why is that? I wonder... But most of the backers liked the freak, so I cannot really complain too much about it.

Urgh... Zi, I'm supposed to call it "zi."

Ember's always been pretty quiet since I met her. (Zer?) And since that little mess with Swannyboy and one of our backers died, zi has been chattier. About how it kills people, especially teaching the guys. As such zi's not been blogging so much and it looks like it's up to me to blog for our dear Bender. (Get it? It's a pun because Ember's a such fucking robot sometimes. A paranoid android?)

So here you go, your first glance at the poor sod who landed a partner just as likely to slit my throat as fuck me. (Not that I'd ever want to, don't know what kind of runner cooties I'd catch.)

Hey... I feel better now I've vented. I don't talk much in real life, this is pretty sweet. I might make a habit of it.

See you

West