Terror Of London

6:00pm London
The crowd moved as one. Though everyone was going in a different direction, the movements were fluid, like two streams meeting in a valley. Most of the crowd was going home. All but one man. He was unusually tall, lanky, and he was impossible to lose sight of, even in the thousand of people in the crowd. His clothes were old and raggedy. He looked like he should be going to the finest restaurants London had to offer. In the 1800’s. He wore a suit and tie, but it was obviously older than the man wearing it. The sleek black coat had holes in it, and one of the cuffs was torn. The white shirt he had under it was stained and wrinkled. His black pants were extra long, and even then they were 2 inches shorter than his legs. His black dress shoes were shiny, but the toes were worn, and his feet almost poked out. The most distinguishing item of his out fit was his tall, tattered top hat. Judging by the looks of it, it might have been the one Abraham Lincoln wore. His hat covered most of his face with an unnaturally dark shadow, and his collar was drawn up, so his face was almost impossible to see. He hurried through the crowd, eager to get to his destination.
A man stopped to stare when the strangely dressed man passed.
“Hey! You in the top hat!” he called after him. The figure stopped, and then turned his head.
“Yes?” he said in a strong East London accent.
“Where’d you dig those clothes up? They look like the ones my grandfather wore to his wedding.”
“That, my friend, is none of your bloody business.” The man turned and walked away. After he walked about 30 steps, he spun on his heel and his eyes darted to each person in the crowd. He spotted the man who insulted his wardrobe and followed him.

7:00pm East London
“It’s been a bit since I came to this place.” The man in the top hat muttered to himself. He watched the man he had been following, and moved quickly to the closest alley. The poor fellow he was stalking had no clue he was there. He stopped in front of a small house, and walked to the door. He knocked three times. The man in the shadows ran silently up to the doorway. He put his gloved hand over the man's mouth. He used his other hand to hug the man so that he couldn’t struggle. He dragged the man into the shadows.
A woman opened the door with a smile on her pretty face. She had waiting for her husband for thirty minutes. Her smile disappeared. Some child must have been playing ‘Knock ‘n Run’. She closed to door with a sigh.
The man in the top hat waited until the woman closed the door, the released the man from his grip.
“What the He”-
“ No need to swear” The man recognized the accent.
“You…”
“Yes, it is I.”
“Who are you?”
The man in the top hat smiled. “I have many names. Some call me Babyeater. Some call me Top Hat. You probably know me as…Springheeled Jack. Call me Jack.” Jack stepped toward him. His jaw seemed to lower, making his wicked grin even more menacing. He pulled off his white gloves, revealing sharp pointed nails. The man would have screamed, but he suddenly lacked vocal cords. Well, they were on the ground about three feet away from him. Not a nice last sight. So he looked at the oncoming blackness in Jack’s mouth. Even as it wrapped around his head, he thought that this wasn’t much better.

Jack left the remains of the man. He was still hungry. He cocked his head and listened. He heard a faint crying. He smiled. A perfect dessert.

7:30pm East London
Jack crawled on the wall. He was on the side of a hospital. Newborns had a certain texture Jack found irresistible. He smashed a window. He crawled to a different window and used a small diamond he had stolen and cut a circle in it. He slipped inside.
Jack prowled the hallways, occasionally jumping into the darkness, hiding from the occasional nurse. He listened for the cry. Each time he heard it, it was closer. Soon he found what he was looking for. NURSERY was written on the door, and he noted the location. He might come back. As soon as he opened the door, the smell of newborns smacked into him. He licked his lips. He strolled from one crib to another, choosing the one worthy enough to be devoured by a cretin like him. He saw a small, sickly one. It obviously wouldn’t make it. So Jack did what he thought was meant to be, and picked it up. His jaw lowered, making the bottomless pit that was his throat even wider. He crammed the baby into it. He chewed. The resounding cracks of those frail little bones made him smile. A trickle of blood escaped his mouth. He quickly licked it up. He spit out the blanket and cap the baby had worn. He was full. As silently as he had entered, he left.

12:00am Roofs of London
Jack leaped roof to roof. The stuffing from his pant he used to make him look somewhat normal was gone, exposing his thin yet muscular legs. His top hat swayed, but did not fall off. It never did. Jack was proud of his occupation. The way he saw it, he rid the world of the jerks he met. He also eliminated the need of treating babies that would die anyway. The way he saw it, he should be given an award! But alas, the rest of the world thought he was a menace. Some even thought he was a myth! This thought infuriated him. He sneered in the darkness. He leapt across the street. He sat on a gargoyle. He reached into its mouth, revealing the satchel expertly hid in it. Opening it, he pulled out a cigar and a match. He lit the cigar and threw the match to the streets below. He grinned. He jumped from his perch and shot down to the streets. He grabbed the match. He gripped the brick wall zooming past him and spun around. He launched himself up. He did this so fast; he was able to grab the cigar before it hit the roof. He grinned. He was getting quicker. He played this little game every night. He took a drag on the cigar. He loved life. He took a tattered blanket out of the satchel. He lay on the roof, covering his arms with the blanket. “Good night.” He said to nobody in particular.

8:15am Roofs of London
Jack awoke with a smile on his face. He crammed the blanket into his satchel. He slung the bag over his shoulder, and walked to the edge of the roof. He peered into the morning rush. One lucky person wouldn't make it to their destination. Jack jumped into a dark alley. He hesitated before walking into the crowd. He had to go unnoticed. He shook it off. No time for hesitation. He smiled.
Jack walked in the crowd, eying everyone he could without drawing attention to himself. Well, more attention. An unusually tall man in a top hat is a bit of a sore thumb. His deformed nose was hidden under the shadow of his hat’s brim. He saw a pregnant woman, but he thought he could wait for the newborn rather than eat it and it’s mother now. He looked across the street and saw a street performer. He particularly disliked them. He smiled. Jugglers were quite tender. He started to cross the street. A car all most ran him over. It would have if he hadn’t sprung. He jumped over the car, flipped in the air and landed behind it. The entire crowd stopped and stared. Jack had been caught.

8:30am Streets of London
Herbert Derange was the best cop in London. No, he was the best cop in England. He was sitting in his patrol car, waiting for a call. “Jack Clow Road. Strange happening. Please check it out Derange.”
“On it.” He turned on his lights and siren, and floored it.

8:35am Jack Clow Road, London
Jack thought about running, but his speed would cause even more attention. His wardrobe wasn’t very helpful either. He just stood there. Then he heard the siren. A copper! He decided now was the time to run. He darted. And ran straight into the cop car. He was in trouble now. His top hat fell off, revealing his face. He quickly grabbed it, shoved it on his head, and jumped.
Herbert was confused. He hit someone, and then he jumped 50 feet in the air! He had to find out who this character was. To the Internet!

12:30 pm Roof of The Spencer House
Jack paced up and down the roof. He was disturbed by his own stupidity. He used his unnatural abilities in public! What’s more, he used them again in front of a cop! He was doomed. The police would research him, find out he was Top Hat, and kill him. He was ruined. He had been seen before, but not by throngs of people in broad daylight! He threw down his hat and stomped on it. He plopped on the edge of the roof, next to a gargoyle. He looked at it.
“You’re the only one who can keep a secret, aren’t you?” He sighed. He was insane. He looked down at the streets. He had thought about jumping a lot. He wondered what death felt like, but he was immortal. He was over 300 years old, but still nimble. He decided he would move to Germany. The Terror of Berlin had a bit of a ring to it... “Oh what am I thinking? I’m going to get arrested and live the rest of my life in prison.” He thought for a minute or two, and finally decided if he was going to be contained, he might as well enjoy his last hours of freedom.

12:35 pm London Police Department
Herbert had searched every file, link on his computer, and asked every source he had, yet hadn’t got a single scrap of info on The Jumper, as he called the mysterious man he had run over. He slumped in his chair. Who was the guy? He had no bloody idea. “Hostage situation. 32 Main.” His radio crackled.
“On it.”

12:45 pm 32 Main St., London
Jack was having the time of his life. He catapulted, somersaulted, rolled, bounced, and flew over the city. He stopped abruptly as he noticed a commotion. Several cops were parked in front of a building. A cop with a megaphone shouted, "PLEASE, UST LET HER GO!" Jack adjusted his eyes and peered into the building. A man.... with a gun. He had the gun to the head of a woman. Jack snarled. If you are going to kill someone, do it with some class. This man was going to waste a kill! Ignoring the police, the gathering crowd, the lights, and catapulted himself into the building.
Derange pulled up to the building. He pulled out his megaphone and exited his car. He shouted into his bullhorn
"PLEASE, JUST LET HER GO!" Some guy had a gun to his wife’s head, and had heavy demands. A shadow crossed him. He looked to the night sky, and saw a shadow slip into a window. Peculiar...
Jack walked through the hall. He listened for a noise. Some mice ran in front of him, and he heard chatter. He slipped into the shadows, and listened.
"Please, please please! Don't kill me!"
"Shuddup." Jack clenched his fists. That bastard! Jack stomped through the hall, and banged doors, searching for the man.
"Who's there? I've got a gun!"
Jack growled. "I know that you idiot! I'd suggest you drop it before I rip your damn throat out!" Jack heard the man gulp. The chap was scared! Jack chuckled. He kicked in the door. The man sent a bullet through Jacks shoulder. It hurt, but the pain infuriated Jack further. He pounced on the man, shoving the woman away. She whimpered. Jack clutched the man's throat.
"I said drop it." The man released the gun and whimpered. "You were going to kill someone ten seconds ago. Your pathetic." Jack snarled. He shoved the gun away and tightened his grip on the man's throat. The man's eyes darted around the room, looking for a savior. Jack's thin lips twisted into an evil grin. His jaw lowered. A sharp crack filled the room as the butt of the gun smashed against his head. The world went dark.

6:29pm cell in Metropolitan Police Station
Jack opened his eyes. He sat up on the hard cot he had found himself to be laying on. He looked around groggily. He was in a cell. Three solid walls of stone, and in the 4th was a glass doorway. He got up to look through it, but found he was chained to the bed. He reached in his pocket for his cutting diamond, but realized he was wearing an orange jumpsuit. The pants were much to short; they looked like Capri’s on Jacks lanky legs. He lay down on the bed. His run was over. And now that it really was, he was ok with it. His hands went behind his head as he relaxed. Then he realized
"Those ruddy cops took my bloody hat!" This, he was not ok with.

6:30pm office in Metropolitan Police Station
Herbert sipped his coffee. He ran the fingerprints one more time. Nothing. The guy he had hauled in that night had no history. From the looks of it, he was never born. This guy didn’t exist. It seemed pointless to question him, but it wasn’t like Herbert had anything to file a report on. Herbert got up and headed to the cell.

6:32pm cell in MPS
Jack tugged half-heartedly on the chain. Until someone came and released him, he was stuck. Footsteps echoed in the hall outside.
“Speak of the devil.” Jack muttered.
Derange looked inside the cell. The man sat on the cot, looking at Herbert expectantly. The man was an odd one; there was no doubt about that. Herbert opened the cell door.
“Well, it’s about time.” Jack said. The cop walked cautiously towards him.
“Hands where I can see them.” Derange ordered. Jack raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not like I have a weapon. I don’t even have my bloody hat.”
“Oh, so you’re a murderer? And your hat is evidence?”
“No you idiot. I’m British, and I’d assume you are, too.”
“Temper, temper. Hands.”
Jack put his hands in front of him. The cop clapped on handcuffs, and then unlocked the chain on Jack’s leg. He dragged Jack to his feet and marched him into an interrogation room.
“All right, what’s your name?” Herbert demanded. Jack laughed.
“Listen, I really don’t give a damn about being in here, so cut the ruddy attitude. Give me my damn hat, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Herbert laughed. “You’ll get your hat after I get some answers.” Jack looked at him expectantly. He sat, silent, for 3 hours.
Herbert got the hat.
Jack perched the top hat on his head. “So, what do you want to know, old chap?”
“First off, the name is Derange. What I’d like to know is who you are.”
“I’m a poet.”
“A poet?”
“Yep. The name’s Jack, and now that I’ve got my hat, I won’t be coming back.” At that, Jack flipped the table over and pinned Derange under it. While Herbert had put Jack in handcuffs, he had neglected Jacks greatest asset: his legs. Jack catapulted into the wooden door, breaking through it. He bolted into the hall, looking for a window he had passed earlier.
"Here we are.” Jack muttered as he jumped through it. “They really should have better security here, considering it IS a police station.”

10:46pm East London slums
Jack darted alleyway to alleyway. The cuffs stifled his mobility; he relied on his hands to help his scale the cities buildings. He had an old pal somewhere in this area, but alas, it had been so long he had forgotten where exactly. As he wandered through the streets, he saw an old, run down building. The crooked cross hanging above the doorway was the only indication it was a church. As Jack gazed at it, he remembered something that happened almost 300 years ago. Something that happened when Jack was still… human. Jack shook the thought off, and entered the church.

10:46pm church in East London slums
Erin Davenport sat in the pew. She wasn’t sure whether to pray or not. It seemed useless and counterproductive to what she was about to do. She hiked up his black skirt, revealing a small curved knife strapped to her thigh. She slid it slowly out of its sheath. Its blade was a dark rusted color, like dried blood. She pulled back the sleeve of her jacket, and rested the blade on her wrist. Thin scars covered her arms. Erin muttered under her breath.
“I, Erin Davenport, hereby sell my soul to the devil, and I seal this deal in blood.” She started to rake the knife across her wrist, but something told her not too. Erin laughed.
“It’s a little late for that, God.”
“I’m not God, but I appreciate the compliment.” A voice behind her said. Erin whipped around. A tall, lanky man in an orange jumpsuit and a black top hat stood at the door. “Trust me, luv,” he said, “ it may seem brilliant right now, but frankly, being a soulless pawn of old Lucy sucks.” He strolled up to Erin. As he got closer, Erin saw his nose was deformed, his skin was a dark tan color, yet pasty, and his pants were much too short. He sat beside her.
“The name is Jack. Who are you, and why do you think that selling yourself to some old fart you don’t know is a good idea?”
Erin hesitated. “I’m Erin. It’s a long story. Don’t ask.”
Jack waited. “I’m afraid you didn’t answer the million dollar question.”
“It’s not important.” Erin stood, and started to walk away. Jack leaped over her and stood before her.
“Well, if its not important, I’ll just assume your sick of life. I can help with that.” Jacks jaw lowered.

12:27am MPD
“He escaped?!? A handcuffed sumbitch kicked your sorry ass and escaped?!?!?”
Herbert Derange was having a bad day. After 16 years on the force, he was fired over a single mishap. Sure, it was a possible terrorist, but it was still only one mistake. At least he had a name to go on. Jack. He refined his searches with extraordinary leg muscles, and he got a few hits. Some Jap, but Jack was white. The rest was some old legend. Something called the Spring-Heeled Jack; it was a bunch of bull about a demon terrorizing 19th century British folk. “Back to square one…” Herbert thought.

2:16am church in East London slums
Jack limped to the door. Erin was long gone. At least his handcuffs were off. Erin had used her knife to snap the chain. The blade was aimed at his heart, but that was unimportant. What was important was that a woman, a bloody woman!, had beat the living shit out of him. “I’m losing my touch…” Jack muttered. “Must be mid-life crisis.”

6:25am Apartment 413, East London
Erin woke up to Pokerface. She rolled out of bed and slipped on her clothes. She strapped on her knife. She couldn’t remember exactly what had happened the night before, and wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Pokerface ended and Born This Way came on. Erin cranked up the speakers. She loved this song. You would have never guessed by looking at her, but she was a diehard Lady Gaga fan. She went through her morning routine, and skipped breakfast for the third time this week. Erin walked out the door of her apartment and headed to work. She was a therapist at the local AA. Ironic, she helped drunks with their problems and she was a heavy drinker and satanic. She laughed at this every day.
She walked across the cracked road in front of her apartment building and stopped dead in the middle of the street. A tall man in an orange jumpsuit and top hat limped into an alleyway in front of her. Last night flooded back to her.
“Oh shit.” She whispered.
Jack heard.

7:00am Notting Hill, London
Derange never went to sleep. He had searched every link, page, and video on the Internet that remotely connected to the name Jack. There were 239, Jacks in London alone. Over 500 in Britain. Over 1200 in the UK. A total of 372 had taken a course in gymnastics. 76 had criminal records. 7 wore top hats.

6:40am Old Kent Rd
Jack stared at Erin. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.” He walked toward her, hiding his limp. Erin backed away. Jack smiled. The smile disappeared as he lunged forward. He tackled Erin and propelled her off the road.
The trucks horn blared as it barreled past, exactly here Erin stood seconds ago. It screeched to a halt. The driver of the vehicle got out of the car. He had a cell phone. “Don’t call anyone.” Jack said. “We’re fine.”
“That’s not what he’s calling about.” Erin whispered. She pointed to the jumpsuit.
“Damn.” Jack rose, and strode to the man. He grabbed the man's arm and twisted. The man dropped his phone, and Jack stomped on it.
"Hey, you didn’t have to break it.” Erin remarked.
“He wont need it anymore.” Jack muttered as his jaw lowered. He ripped the man's throat out with his teeth. He heard Erin gasp. He kicked the body into the gutter.
“What… what the hell are you?” Erin stuttered.
“Well, if you must know, I’m a 300 year old satanic cannibal.” Jack grinned, his pointed teeth stained red. Erin stood in awe. Jack frowned. “Why haven’t you run away?”
‘Don’t… ever do that again.”
Jack frowned. “Do what?”
“Eat someone. Unless of course you eat me.” Erin grinned seductively. “And I don’t mean cannibalistically.” Jack stared at Erin. She smiled and walked toward Jack. And for once, he was the one backing away in fear.

7:25am Notting Hill, London
Derange heard the sirens. He rushed to his Dodge Charger and followed the convoy of police, staying back just enough to not be noticed. It brought him to London’s ghetto. A mutilated body was being taken out of the gutter. Its throat was ripped out. “Good God.” He whispered.

7:00am Apartment 413, East London
Jack was dazed and confused. The pain in his leg was mind numbing, and Erin... he just didn’t understand her. She was patching up his leg with a first aid kit. And duct tape. She had concocted a sedative out of certain vodkas and Tylenol. In less than 5 minutes, Jack was dozing off.
Erin finished taping gauze to Jacks thigh, and then stood. Help but notice his muscular lags, his wiry body… she could even look past his deformed nose. She crouched down in front of him ad slowly undid the button on his orange jumpsuit pants. She slid them off. Erin licked her lips as she grabbed his clean white unders by the waistband, and started to pull.

7:35am outside East London Apt. Building
Derange instinctively walked to the body. A younger man stopped him. “Sir, this is a crime scene. No civilians.” The man said. His accent pinned him as an American.
“I’m a cop, you bloody idiot. I-“ Derange paused. He still hadn’t quite accepted he had been fired. “Never mind.” He walked away. He felt his stomach groan. He walked into he nearest building, an apartment complex, to look for a vending machine.
As he ate a bag of Doritos and a Coca Cola, he noticed the building had a security camera aimed toward the street. He smiled. He was still the best cop in London.

7:35am Apt. 413
“What, exactly, do you think your doing?” Jack yelled. He sprung up form next to Erin. He pulled his prison edition trousers up to cover him. Erin smiled seductively.
“You know you want it.”
“No, I bloody well don’t!!!” Jack grabbed his pants. As he put them on he glared at Erin. She smiled again. He slapped her.
“What the hell?” She yelled. “I take you into my home, save your godforsaken life, and you bitchslap me??”
“Well, you didn’t really save my life, you just made my leg feel a bit better. You also drugged me and tried to act French.” Jack growled. “Favor? From now on, leave the eating people to me.”
Erin raised her eyebrows. “You think I was joking when I said no more human meals?” she said in a very smart ass way. Jack frowned.
“You have got to be kidding me, luv.”
“Nope.” Jack glared at her. Erin gestured to his prison edition wardrobe. “You need some clothes?” she asked.

12:06pm London Theatre District
Jack was dressed in drag.

12:07pm London Theatre District
Erin couldn’t stop laughing. A 300-year-old satanic cannibal was dressed in a black skirt, tank top and high heels. He had need clothes that weren’t bright orange. Jack slipped into a random building, and returned in a close fitting tuxedo. His pants were 4 inches short, and he still wore 6’’ pumps. “Nothing my size.” he explained. Erin snickered. “Shuddup, or I will kill you.” He clenched his ungloved fingers.
“I’m bored.” Erin complained.
“Well, we are in the Theatre District. I believe it is the London equivalent of Broadway.” Jack said, gesturing around. “Watch a play. Look, there’s Hamlet.”
“Yea, but Shakespeare is so… “
“To be or not to be, that is the question, whether ‘tis nobler in min to suffer…” Erin raised and eyebrow as Jack recited the whole soliloquy. “300 years old. Something has to occupy my time.”
Erin laughed. “Lets go somewhere else.”
“Fine.” They walked around, Jack stopping occasionally to quote a play. “Thou liest, thou jesting monkey thou!” from the Tempest. “Fools are not mad folks.” From Cymbeline.
“This is boring as hell.” Said Erin. Jacks eyes narrowed.
“What do you suppose we do then?”
“Lets go to the zoo.”
“No. Absolutely not.”

12:49pm London Zoo
Jack slumped into a bench. Random people would stop and stare, and he snarled at them. Erin sat down beside him. At least she was enjoying herself. Jack tugged on the collar of his tux, and his heels clicked.

“Why don’t we get you some clothes?” Erin suggested. “You seem to hate this place anyway.”



1:00pm Round Pond

Derange took a long drag on a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in years, but what was the point now? He didn’t have kids or a wife to worry about, he was unemployed, and the one called Jack constantly mocked him. All Herbert had left was an obsession.

He had to find Jack.



1:11pm Edgeware + Westway intersection

“There’s a shop over here.” Erin said as she drug Jack down the street. People stared at Jacks wardrobe, much to his dismay. He was used to being hidden in the crowds. This wasn’t his style.

“Here it is…” Erin muttered as she walked into a small store.

“Is this… a bloody thrift shop?”

“Yep.” Jack frowned. This wasn’t his style.



1:46pm Edgeware + Westway intersection

“I don’t like this.” Jack objected. Erin glared at him.

“Its the only thing that fits you.” Jack shrugged. He wore a gray Colombia jacket, a white shirt, and black pants. A worn pair of Sketchers covered h is feet. At least he still had his hat, he thought.

“The pants are much too short.”

“Has that ever been a problem before?” Erin snapped. Jack found a sudden interest in his shoes.

“The jackets a bit big.” He mumbled. Erin smiled coldly.

“You’ll wear it. And like it. Or I’ll cut off your shriveled little balls and make you eat them. You enjoy human organs, don’t you?” Jack looked up suddenly. Then he burst into laughter. He pointed a gloved finger behind Erin. A small boy stood staring at her. Erin bent down to him and said gently “Your next.”

Jack laughed harder as the child ran away, crying for his mommy.

1:52pm Bayswater Rd.
Derange walked warily down the street, his hats brim pulled down low. London’s famous fog shrouded the random passerby, and he heard a child crying to his mum about a mean lady. Herbert took a sip of his coffee and forced a wallow. McDonalds coffee was disgusting. He pulled his overcoat tighter around him. He went to take another sip of his coffee, and then dropped the paper cup. A tall man in a top hat walked through the fog.

1:52pm Bayswater Rd.
Both Jack and Erin laughed as the child’s mother glared at them. They strolled down the street, fog shrouding the area ahead. Any passerby would think they were a couple.
“Were both screwed up, aren’t we?” Erin asked.
“I think so, lu-“ Jack stopped abruptly. Erin knitted her eyebrows.
“What is it?” She asked. Jack took a step back.
Herbert Derange stepped forward, a pistol pointed at Jack in his hand. “Don’t move.” He ordered. Jacks eyes darted, surveying his surroundings. From what he could see, there was no one but him, Erin and Derange. Jack lunged forward and Herbert fired. The bullet tore through Jack’s shoulder. It knocked him off course, and he tackled the ex-cop rather than ripping his throat out. They rolled, and Jack ended up on top. He glanced around, saw no potential witnesses, and lowered his jaw.
“Jack, I know you aren’t about to do what I think you’re about to do, are you?” Erin interrupted. Jack stared at her.
“Bloody hell, the bastard just shot me!”
“That does not give you the right to eat him.”
“I don’t need the right, Erin! He pissed me off, and I’m hungry!”
“Jack, if you even think about it, I will force you into Lady Gaga’s meat dress and cook you in it.” Jack looked, honestly, scared. He stood up and backed away slowly from Derange. “Thank you.” Erin said. She smiled. “Now, let’s get you patched up.”
Herbert sat up. Erin glared at him. He lay back down.

2:27pm Apt 413
Erin wrapped a bandage around Jack’s shoulder. He winced, but he’d been through much worse. Once Erin finished, he stood and flexed his arm. It still stung, but nothing was badly injured. Erin tapped her foot, her hands on her hips. “Well,” she said, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Er… no.”
“Nothing?”
“What are you, my mum?” Erin glared. “Ma’am.” Jack quickly added.
Erin smiled. “That’s a bit better.”

2:30pm Notting Hill
Herbert limped home.7 Jack had sprained Deranges ankle, and caused countless scraped and cuts. Herbert didn’t care. He was ecstatic. He had another lead. He limped to his computer and typed the name into Google. He scrolled through the results. Bingo.
Erin Davenport, resident of East London Apartments. Room 413.

3:00pm Apt. 413
Erin finally dosed off. After the morning’s incident, Jack didn’t dare sleep with Erin conscious. Her rhythmic breathing was alien to Jack. He was used to the short, fast gasps of horror or fatigue. He wondered what was wrong with him, taking orders from a woman. A bloody American, at that! Then he wondered why he was even still there. He stood and opened the window. He started to climb out.
“What the hell do you think your doing?” Erin said in the worst Cockney accent Jack had ever heard. She walked to the window. “Get in here. Now.”
“There’s no need.”
“No, get in! It’s a cop!” She yanked Jack inside. As he tumbled onto the floor, she slammed the window shut. “Its ok,” Erin said. “There’s a drug bust around here every month or so.” Loud knocking filled he room. Jack raised an eyebrow. “Shut up.” Erin spat.

3:00pm outside E. London Apt. Building
Herbert hobbled inside the building. It had turned out his leg was broken. That bastard Jack would pay for it. Derange pulled his pistol from its holster. Damn the cops. He was going to kill the bastard. Or die trying.

3:01pm Apt. 413
Jack barricaded the door with every movable piece of furniture. When he opted it was too troublesome to move the oven, he turned to Erin. “Any other way out?”
“The window.”
“Perfect.” Jack grabbed Erin, threw her over his good shoulder, and opened the window. “Your lucky I’m amazing.”
“Hpmh. Narcissistic much?”
“As you Americans say, damn straight.” He jumped.

3:30pm Apt. 413
The police finally cleared the barricade. They checked around, but found nothing illegal. After clearing out, Herbert snuck in. He found that crutches are good for breaking things. Surely there was once scrap of evidence that suggested where the bastard and his girlfriend went.

4:00 Roofs of London
“Its beautiful.” Erin said. “You see this everyday?” Jack grinned.
“Yep. The Eye as nothing on this, does it?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know.” Jack stared at Erin.
“You’ve never been on the Eye?”
“No.”
“Bloody hell. Come on, no Londoner can be a Londoner without a ride on the Eye.”

4:45pm Big Ben
The view was better from the to of the clock tower. Erin and Jack sat precariously on the minute hand. Erin had Jack in a death grip. “Scared of heights?” Jack asked.
“No.”
“Then get off me.” Erin scooted slowly away from him. Across the Thames, the London Eye was silhouetted against the fog. It was still. Every once in a while it would move, dropping off riders and picking up new ones. The giant minute hand jerked, bringing Jack another bear hug from Erin. “All right, come on.” He wriggled out of the hug and picked Erin up. He climbed to the top of the clock tower.
“Ready?” He asked.
“Ready for wha-“ She screamed.
Jack jumped the river Thames.
He landed on a car in the Eye.
“HOLY SHIT!” Erin screamed.
“Well, that will attract attention.” Jack muttered. He pulled Erin into the car.
“It did.”

4:45pm London Eye
Herbert needed a place to clear his thoughts and examine his new leads.

Some how, he had come up with a giant Ferris wheel. He got a car alone, with plenty of room to spread out everything.

As he picked up a box of Erin’s tampons, he heard someone scream. Something hit the car, shaking it and bringing Herbert to the ground.

“HOLY SHIT!” A woman screamed.

“Well, that will attract attention.” An unmistakable East London accent said.

“It did.” Derange said as Jack crawled into the car. Derange reached for his pistol, but he didn’t have it with him. “Damn.” He muttered. Erin looked around the car, at her stuff Derange had taken.

“Are those… my panties?” She asked calmly. Her eyes suddenly turned to hatred. “You. Did. NOT. Take my Lady Gaga CDs!” She kicked Herbert in the groin. Derange yelped, and Jack cringed and looked away.

“Ouch.” Jack muttered. Derange collapsed and Erin started to gather her things. Jack stood over Herbert. “I want to kick you so bloody bad. Did you know that?”

“Don’t” Erin spat, picking up a bra. “We really don’t need more reason to be arrested.” She glared at Herbert. “You goddamn pervert.” She kicked him in the gut.

“Hypocrite.” Jack muttered.

“I try.”



5:00pm London Eye

“Well, that was fun.” Jack said as he and Erin exited the car. Derange was a bloody mess inside. They left in a hurry, before the next passengers could board. It was a small boy and his mum. The boy looked at Erin with fear in his eyes.

“Mummy! It’s the mean lady!”



5:30pm Apt. 413

“This place is trashed.” Erin muttered. Furniture was broken, cabinets emptied, trash spilled everywhere. “Jackass.”

“What did you call me luv?”

Erin smiled. She continued to rifle through her chaotic apartment. She froze.

“What is it?” asked Jack. Erin choked back a sob. A pile of broken CDs littered the floor.

“My Lady Gaga.” Erin whispered. She broke down. Jack picked up a CD case and looked at the cover. On it was the most disturbing thing he had ever seen. He dropped the case in disgust, and it broke. Erin stopped sobbing and glared t Jack. “You ass!” she yelled at him.

“What?” Erin’s eyes narrowed.

“You killed my Gaga.”

“It’s just a CD, luv. I’ll buy you another one, if you’d like me too.”

“You’re broke.”

“No, I’m not. I get a discount.” Jack winked.



12:30am outside a convenience store, Condon St.

“Told you.” Jack said as he handed Erin a CD player and a handful of CDs. Erin giggled.



12:45am Roofs of London

Erin fell asleep listening to Pokerface. Jack sat perched on his gargoyle, reflecting the day’s events. He absentmindedly hummed Erin’s play list, and he heard the song change. “What the hell is this?” he muttered. He crawled to Erin and turned up the volume.

“…Gaga ohlala, want your bad romance…” Erin woke up. She smiled “You like this song?”

“Er… I prefer more… classical works. Its ok, I suppose.” Erin laughed.

“You suppose? What are you, gay?”

“Gay? Moi? Never!” I’ll have you know I was quite the ladies man in my day!”

“When was that? 1750?”

Jack looked offended. “1888. I am not that old.”

“1888? What happened that year?”

“The first leap year, a blizzard devastated the eastern US, the Whitechapel killings.”

“Whitechapel? You mean the Ripper killings?”

“Yes.”

“Wait… Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Your not…”

“Oh yes, luv. I am. I told you I was a ladies man.” Jack grinned devilishly.

“Killing hookers is not being a ladies man.

“Well, do I need to prove it to you?” The song blared. Erin raised an eyebrow.

“Sure.”



1:00am

An old woman woke with a start. Bass of an extremely loud song shook her apartment. She shuffled out of bed and to her closet. She pulled out her trusty broom. Her ancient cat purred loudly.

“It’s ok, Mr. Mittens.” the woman said. She started to rap the broom handle against the ceiling.

The she realized she lived on the top floor.



6:00am Roofs of London

Erin woke up in a strange place, with a strange feeling, and with a very strange man.

With no clothes on.

She looked at Jack, who was still asleep. His top hat was still perched on his head. The bastard didn’t even remove it to shag.

“Shag? Oh hell, I’ve been in London too long.” Erin thought. A cold morning breeze made her realize she was still naked. She quickly got dressed, but couldn’t find a certain article of clothing.

“If you’re looking for you knickers, they are on the street somewhere.” Jack said. Erin jumped 3 feet in the air. Jack laughed. “They fell last night. Cant say I want glad, they stank of your crotch.”

Erin looked offended. “You didn’t seem to mind the real thing!

“Yes, but the scent was quite strong.”

“Ass.”

“Ooh, profanity. I guess I won the argument.” Erin clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, if she had had nails. She kept them filed short so she couldn’t gouge the eyes out of AA members out. Oh, she wanted to so badly sometimes…

Jack dressed rather quickly and peered to the streets below. “I think I see you knickers. An old an is walking away with them.”



6:05am Oxford St.

Cecil couldn’t believe it. He goes on his morning walk, and he finds a pair of some hooker’s panties! They were sopping wet and smelled like pussy. He took a deep whiff and headed home. There was a quite thump behind them. He turned and a woman, who looked like a BDSM angel, strutted toward him. She slapped him and snatched the panties away. She kicked him in the shin as a tall man in a top hat laughed behind her. The woman kicked him repeatedly. “You” (kick) “Perverted” (kick) “Old” (kick) “Bastard!”



7:45am London ER

Herbert Derange woke up in a med-induced stupor. His face was mummified. His left leg was in a sling, broken in 3 places. His right ankle was sprained and swollen. Judging by the amount of gauze, he would never have kids.

8:30am Great Dover St.
Jack left Erin in a Waffle House to go eat so he could get a quick meal. His eyes darted through the morning crowd. A young woman dressed in a low cut black shirt, a purple miniskirt, and fishnets also looked around. Jack licked his lips. Something about prostitutes had always excited Jack. And this one looked barely legal. Nice and tender, as Jack put it. He sauntered over to her, flashing a grin. She looked him up and down, and then shrugged. She gestured for Jack to follow her. Jack happily obliged. He darted through the crowd, following the woman.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, long nails digging into him. “What the hell do you think your doing?” Erin yelled at him. Several people turned to look, but then went back to hurrying to their destination. “You were planning on eating her, weren’t you?” Jack hung his head.
“Yes.”
“What did I tell you about that?”
“Hey, it’s fine with me, so long as he pays me.” The hooker said.
“Shut up, Alexis!” Erin spat.
“You know this woman?”
“Yea, she comes to AA sometimes.”
“AA?”
“Oh, Erin, it’s you! Where were you yesterday?”
“Shut up Alexis!”
“What’s AA?”
“Alcoholics Anonymous.”
“Well that’s rude…”
“If it is anonymous, how do you know her name?”
“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!!!” Erin screamed. Everyone in earshot stopped and stared. ”If you say one more word, I will let him torture you in any sadistic way he wants!” Erin pointed to Alexis. She turned to Jack “If you so much as think about eating anyone else, I will cut your penis off and sauté it in whatever I can squeeze out of your shriveled little testicles and make you choke on it!” Erin spat.
Several people pulled out their cell phones to dial 911. Jack leaned over to Alexis. “Is she always after this?” he whispered.
“Pretty much.”

9:00am Kennington Park Rd.
Jacks cheek still stung from being slapped. Erin only spoke to Jack to cuss him out again. “If you’re so pissed, luv, then why do you keep following me?” Erin smiled coldly, showing her sharp teeth,
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you turned my house into a crime scene?” Jack started a snappy answer, but stopped short.
“Smile.”
“No.”
“Do it, it is important.” Erin reluctantly parted her lips. Sharp, pointed teeth filled her mouth. Jack grabbed her hand, which had long, sharp nails.
“Oh, bloody hell.”

10:00am Wellington Road
“Will you tell me where we’re going?” Erin asked for the hundredth time. Jack was silent. “Will you tell me where we’re going, PLEASE?”
Jack sighed. “To see an old friend of mine.”
“Why and who?”
“What, when, and how.”
“What?”
Jack turned to face Erin. “Look at my teeth.” He smiled. Erin looked at his yellowed, razor sharp fangs. “Look at my nails.” He pulled off his gloves, showing his black claws. “Now look at yours.”
Erin glanced at her elongated nails. Jack pulled a small mirror from his satchel. Erin looked in it and bared her teeth. She stared at Jack. “What’s going on?”
Jack sighed. “You’re changing. And changing disturbing similar to how I changed some 120 years ago.“
“Why? And what does your friend have to do with it?”
“Because he’s a scientist. He might be able to reverse it. Maybe.”
“Um… ok? Well, why am I… um… changing, then?”
“In layman’s terms, because we fucked.”

12:00pm Bus
“Hungry?” Jack asked. Erin nodded. She was starving, she had a splitting headache, she was confused, and for some reason, she was horny. Jack pointed to a fat woman on the other side of the double-decker bus. “Want to split her?”
Erin glared at Jack.
“No? What about him?”
“Jack, I’m not going to eat anyone or anything that comes out of anyone.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t seem to have any problem eating what came out of me last night. Did I miss some-“
“Shut up.” Jack smiled. “So, when are we meeting your ‘friend’?” Erin asked.
“We should be in Amsterdam fairly soon.
“Good. I’m dying for a donut.” Jack smiled. “How about a brownie?”
“Sounds good.”
“Brilliant.”

12:45pm Phillip Sen Coffee House
Jack wrapped his arm around Erin. “That… that was some really good brownies.” Erin slurred. She stumbled, and Jack held her tightly. She rested her head on Jack’s chest. “Oh… oh my god… I can hear the Earth moving!”
“Er… luv, that’s my heartbeat.” Erin looked at Jack, confused.
“You have a heartbeat? I thought you were dead… Oh, Jack! You’re alive! Yay!” She kissed him. Jack was surprised.
“We better get going… Griffin will be waiting.”

1:05pm
Erin smelled the flowers in front of the building. “These smell pretty…”
“That’s wonderful, luv.” Jack rang the doorbell. Erin stumbled onto the doorstep as the door opened. A pale bald man stood in the doorway. He wore dark sunglasses, even though he had been inside.
“Are you a douche bag?” Erin asked. The man ignored her and smiled at Jack.
“Jackie! It’s been much too long! ‘Ow you been, mate?” the man said in a thick Cockney accent.
“I’m wonderful, Griffin. The woman, however, is in need of assistance.” Griffin looked at Erin. Then he looked at her clothing.
“I hope you paid ‘er. I’m broke.”