I'm back, baby! Sorry for the long update, I had a hiatus on this story and gotten preoccupied with other projects (when life wasn't slowly killing me). However, the spirit of Halloween inspired me to continue this fanfiction.

…Only to have more terrible ideas than before. That said, things start getting weird from here. Tags are in the first chapter. You have been warned.

September 8th, 1888

I wonder, do you sleep better at night, pretending that I don't exist? Like a man throwing out his pup onto the streets, just because he walks a little funny. After everything we've been through together, and you can't even kill me yourself. You have to send the little lapdogs that replaced me. I'm a little offended, quite honestly. But you're just following Daddy's orders, aren't you, Alexandra? Or do you really think so little of me? You must have forgotten I am an Assassin as well. Maybe a little reminder might help your memory. 29 Hanbury Street. Pardon the mess, but I think the press will enjoy it. Since you decided to ignore me, then all of London will give me the attention I deserve. And the world will know my terror.

Yours Truly,

Jack the Ripper!

Alexandra was filled with glee and hope when she could move again. Her movements were stiff and her muscles were sore, but she could move. She growled as she struggled to a sitting position—noting this was the first time in days she actually sat up on her own. Even that task was exerting. She was greeted with a dark room—she couldn't even see the details in the gloom.

Good. The Ripper usually left her in darkness when he left for a long time. And if he did come back, she may be able to use the darkness to her advantage. When before her drive was as weak as her body, Alexandra was filled with fierce determination. She had to escape. She had to find her family and Inspector Abberline and whoever was left of the Brotherhood. She couldn't waste an opportunity like this. Jack had to know the drug would wear off by now.

There was only one problem. Alexandra glanced at her wrist, to see the chain was still clamped on.

"Just in case it wears off a little early," Jack had explained. Just thinking about his amused brutality made the Assassin's blood boil. She wanted to see if he was still haughty when she was slicing her blade across his throat.

Alexandra shifted until her legs hung off the edge of the bed. Even that took more effort than it should. Curse it. How could she be rendered so useless?

Pushing away her discomfort, the girl pressed the soles of her feet against the floor. It was cold stone, sending chills across her skin. Now or never. The prisoner pushed herself off the bed until she was standing. Only to collapse.

Alexandra cried as she crumbled onto the hard ground. Her head spun and numbness spread across her body waves. The dull ache in head intensified. Damnit, the drug was still active?! Then the Assassin became aware of the shaking of her limbs and the horrible tightness in her stomach. It felt hollow, like the Ripper had torn out her organs.

She hadn't eaten in days. Not even a sip of water. Alexandra couldn't even remember the last time she had to bite to eat, even before her capture. It was a blasted miracle she was still alive. She recalled a story Uncle Henry told her. He traveled with a caravan to cut across the desert, but when a sandstorm threw them off course, they got stranded for three days without food or water. She wondered if this is what he felt like.

Alexandra shook her head. She was losing focus. She had to escape. Now.

The Assassin untangled herself until she was leaning on her palms and knees for support. With a heave, she stood back up. The room swayed. Alexandra caught herself on the desk before she could fall. She waited until the spell passed before cautiously leaning off. A rush of relief flooded her when she didn't collapse.

Progress. Even though, her guard was still on high alert and her senses were sharp. She glanced at the door (or at least, where she thought was the door), half-expecting the Ripper to barge through and catch her in the act. The room remained silent.

Through the darkness, Alexandra glared at the chain shackling her to the wall. It was attached to a metal slapped, nailed to the stone wall. She thought about her options. The chain was a few feet long. It was enough for her to reach the bed, but prevented her from reaching the opposite side of the room, which included the door. She knew there was no tools in the room she could use and she didn't have anything to improvise with. The prisoner certainly didn't have any heavy object to break the lock with. That meant…

The Assassin wrapped the chain around her arm, and clasped both hands around the chain, until it was pulled tight. Some part of her screamed that this was a terrible idea—but the majority of her mind, including the part that desperately wanted escape, told this was the only way. Swallowing, Alexandra shifted her weight and pulled.

The hook keeping her in place didn't even budge. That didn't deter her determination. Instead, she just pulled harder. Same result. Alexandra grinded her teeth. Using all the energy that she had, she jumped back, yanked on the chain hard.

Only to hear a distinct pop from her shoulder.

The Assassin wailed as pain erupted from her shoulder as she felt the muscles tear underneath her skin. Doubling over, she laid her hand across it, only for steady throbs to radiate from her self-inflicted injury. Idiot.

Alexandra cursed at herself and pushed the discomfort at the back at her mind, along with her hunger and her headache. Only now it was significantly harder to ignore all those things. She straightened and glanced at her shoulder. Despite her awkward viewpoint, she could see the unnatural angle of the bone. Of course it would be dislocated.

The woman considered relocating it. Then again, it was already dislocated. She couldn't make it worse. The Assassin braced again. Her arm was harder to move, but moved enough for Alexandra to pull. And pull and pull and pull.

Until pain once again erupted from her shoulder. Her dislocated shoulder.

Alexandra's wail turned into a scream. Suddenly she was on the floor, gripping her arm as the room spun around her. Everything was hurting: her head, her shoulder, her limbs, her stomach. Tears streamed from the woman's eyes as agony coursed through her in steady waves.

Alexandra didn't know how long she passed out. Minutes? Hours? Maybe days, for all she knew. She opened her eyes to a bright light and a throaty sigh.

"Oh, what did you do?" Jack the Ripper groaned.

The prisoner didn't move as heavy footsteps crossed the room, nearing. Warm hands hauled her into a sitting position, leaning her back against the bed. Even that caused excruciating pain, but Alexandra didn't make a sound. She couldn't even if she wanted to, as her throat felt raw.

Jack said no word or warning as he gipped her cocked up shoulder with both of his large hands. There was a loud pop as the bone snap back into its socket. Alexandra let out a high-pitched sound and almost passed out again. Jack caught her as she fell forward.

"There now, better?" he mused.

Alexandra didn't answer him.

Silently, her captor slipped one of his arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. Like she weighed a feather, he scooped her up and placed her back on the bed. Jack raked his gloved fingers through her hair, as if to comfort her. The Assassin wanted to cry.

She expected the Ripper to talk to her or scold her for her actions, but he remained silent as slipped away. Alexandra heard the metal hinges of the door squeak in protest as it opened. There was so much pain.

"Jack," the woman called tentatively. The footsteps paused. "I'm hungry."

Alexandra seriously never ate so fast in her life. Jack even had to pull her meal away from her, chuckling.

"You'll choke, you know," he warned, but the prisoner ignored him as she stole a piece of bread from the tray.

However, half-afraid he would take it away, the Assassin forced herself to actually chew instead of swallowing her bites whole. It was a meager meal: a couple slice of bread, a chunk of cheese, and a small bowl of something she believed was supposed to be stew. She didn't process what kind any of it was.

How many days had she gone without eating? She had no interest in asking Jack—he probably wouldn't give her a straight answer, anyway. Alexandra tried to rationalize—it only had to be a few days, or else her body would have given out. Then she remembered her dilemma of her failed escape attempt. Her body did go out. The thought made her choke.

"See?" the Ripper scolded.

Alexandra didn't comment that it wasn't because of her improper eating. She reached out for the cheese, only for Jack the snatch it away. The prisoner glared.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that was for you," she snapped sarcastically, only to hear her voice was raspy from lack of use.

Her captor ignored her as he broke off a piece of cheese and brought up a fist. Naturally the Assassin flinched, but couldn't get very far between her position and her soreness.

"Come on, eat," the Ripper ordered.

Then she realized what Jack intended to do. Pride and anger flared in her chest. Her wanted to feed her. Like a child. Alexandra glared.

"Fuck you…"

"I'm rather not in the mood for that."

The Assassin honestly couldn't tell if he was being smart or took her seriously. She continued to glare. The Ripper stared back.

"Eat, or starve," the killer drawled. "You're free to choose."

The prisoner's skin prickled, remembering the latter statement was what her father always said to her. Jack had no right to use it against her. Especially when she was anything but free, because she had no choice. She would die at the hands at the madman, that much she was sure of. Though how slowly and how painfully was the only question.

Alexandra tried to force her tense muscles to relax. It was hard. She laxed her jaw, allowing the Ripper to place the cheese on her tongue. The Assassin chew slowly as possible, finding an interesting spot on the wall. Jack was patient, waiting until she done with a bite and promptly giving her another.

The prisoner didn't remember finishing. Only that the bowl was empty, and her stomach still felt the same. At least the pain subsided. She was disappointed when Jack pulled the tray away, saying, "That should be enough for now."

Alexandra said nothing, even though she wanted to refuse. There was buzz in her head, but not as strong as before. She supposed it wasn't surprising Jack would continue to drug her, especially after her failed escape attempt. It was probably why her muscles loosened without her permission and her guard weakened. It was why she spoke when she saw her captor turn to leave. There was no idea when she would see him again.

"I want to see my father," she demanded.

"He's alive," Jack replied automatically.

"How do I know? Before you said he was dead. You could lying."

Alexandra did not dare mention it was not her father keeping her place, but the Ripper knew that as well as her. At her words, the madman turned and considered her. The Assassin did not back down under his gaze.

"I want proof that Jacob is alive," she commanded. Alexandra knew her glare wasn't intimidating, considering the pathetic state she was in. There was a moment of silence before the Ripper let out an amused snort, which was as lifeless as stone.

"You always were a smart little bugger," the killer mused. "Very well, we can have your reunion a little early."

With that, Jack turned back around and placed the tray on the table. He pulled out his knife. Alexandra suppressed a shudder when he placed the tip on her neck. The metal was cold against her warm skin, and she wondered if his victims felt it when he sliced their throats.

"No tricks," he warned.

Alexandra made no acknowledgement, rendered frozen by the weapon, but turned her wrist to expose the clasp of her shackle. Jack pulled out a set of keys and the prisoner let out a hiss of pain as he unlocked it. Sure enough, the skin was rubbed raw, now an angry red with several blisters. It stung against the cool air. But the loss of the restricting weight was a liberation, albeit a small one.

The girl didn't hesitate to leap to her feet. She was punished when her head swayed. Jack caught her before she lost her balance.

"Easy now," he chided.

Apparently impatient, he didn't wait for her to get her bearings. Wrapping a hand around her upper arm, the madman pulled her out of the room. Alexandra stumbled to keep up with his long strides, but he pitied her by pushing her in front. They would not at her pace, not his.

Alexandra couldn't help but draw a sharp breath when they stepped out into the corridor, realizing it was the first time in days (or was it weeks?) she was out of her cell. Even though it wasn't much a different. A tunnel of stone blocks surrounded her, illuminated by oil lanterns at regular intervals. The chilly air was stale and unmoving, telling her they were underground. The hallway was long and narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

Although she walked a step ahead, Jack held his prisoner close and guided her through the labyrinth. As if he knew it well. Alexandra's buzzed mind could not trace her steps. However, she did not fail to hear distant screams, echoing off the walls to surround her. Her skin crawled. They did not sound human.

"Where are we?" she asked in a murmur.

"You don't need to concern yourself with that," Jack deadpanned. Finally they came to a metal door. Holding Alexandra aside, the madman fished out another key. There was a heavy clank as it unlocked. The Ripper pushed the girl inside. "You have two minutes."

Alexandra inhaled sharply. It took several precious seconds to recognize the thing on the floor was Jacob Frye.

The man lay in a feeble position on his side. His coat was torn and dirtied and bloodied. Alexandra saw stains of blood and vomit and defecation on the floor. Some were fresh; others were old. Jacob was not the first prisoner held in this cell. She ignored the stench.

"F-father?" the daughter whispered.

She received no reply. Slowly, tentatively, she neared the limp form on the floor. Alexandra's heart quickened and she feared the Assassin Mentor was already dead. Then she heard it. A faint, shuddering gasp of breath.

With a gasp of her own, the girl fell to her knees by his side and placed a hand on Jacob's shoulder. She carefully rolled him so she could see his face. The daughter screamed.

"What did you do to him?!" she screeched.

The monster merely tilted his head. "Ripped him."

Where Jacob's left eye was supposed to be, was only gaping hole. The left side of his face had swelled to nearly double, trying to close it. Blood stained his face, both dried and fresh. It had tried to clot to seal the wound, but it was too significant. It was a blasted miracle he had not bled out already.

Suddenly Alexandra's dark world swam again, but this time it wasn't because of drugs or hunger. It was caused by the red haze covering her vison.

"You goddamned bastard!" the Assassin screamed at a furious high-pitch. She twisted around and leaped to her feet. "I hope you burn in Hell!"

Jack didn't move even when she went to pounce, but froze when there was a touch on her leg.

"Aaal-lecks," a weak, frail, croaked voice slurred.

Alex looked down to see Jacob's remaining eye had opened to a slit. His usually bright hazel gaze was dark and dull. He looked up at her, but it was not focused. Instantly the girl's fury vanished. She fell back to his side.

"Father, I'm here!" she gasped. Slowly, cautiously, she touched the good side of his face. Slowly, his chapped lips pulled into a weak smile.

"Yerr aliff," he mumbled, his strained voice relieved. Alexandra could merely nod. "Zzac?"

The girl dared to glance over her shoulder at the Ripper, who stood watching them with his arms folded over his chest. "Where is my brother?"

"I gave him to the Inspector," Jack answered. When Alexandra only stared, he added, "Alive."

The Assassin sighed her own relief and turned to her wounded father. "He's safe."

There was a sound that sounded like a breath came from the man. Alexandra listened to his breathing. It was shallow and unsteady. His skin was so cold… She trembled. Jacob felt it.

"Allecks… 'member yoor num," he slurred. It took several moments for the daughter to decipher what he said.

"'Defender of mankind,'" Alexandra answered.

"Yoor mum numbed yoo."

"I know."

She tried to keep the tremor from her voice, the tears from her eyes. She heard a scuffle of a boot across the stone floor. Jack was getting bored.

"Yoo… muss be bruve," Jacob continued. How it must have hurt to speak. His next word was clear. "Escape."

"Not without you."

Alexandra stopped a sob from escaping as she dared to wrap her arms around him. She wanted to hold him tight, to never let go, but her father was limp in her arms.

"Time's up," their captor announced, deciding he didn't want to wait any longer. The Assassin shut her eyes.

"I luff yoo," Jacob whispered in her ear.

"I love you," Alexandra echoed, speaking low enough so Jack couldn't hear. The heavy footsteps neared. "I'll find a way to escape, I promise."

Suddenly a hand tangled in her hair, gripping at her roots. The girl yelped as the Ripper used the poor leverage to pull her from her father and onto her feet. Before she could properly find purchase, she was shoved out the door. Her shoulder collided with the cold wall of the corridor just as there as a deafening slam. The vice grip returned to her arm, pulling her.

"There's your proof," Jack spat. "Now back to your cage, my pet."

Alexandra turned back to her captor.

"He needs a doctor!" she exclaimed.

"He's alive," Jack argued.

"He's dying!"

"Why should I care?"

"He's your Mentor!" the prisoner spat, struggling. The monster's hold did not falter. "He took you in! Made you one of us! He was a father to you!"

Jack came to a suddenly halt and fixed her with a murderous glare. "And what kind of father can't protect his own, eh? He'll suffer just like he made me suffer."

"It was not his fault!"

"But it was." The girl trembled underneath his demonic gaze. "He murdered our mothers, Alexandra. He will pay."

Alexandra only shook her head in disbelief, eyes wide and jaw agape. No, Jacob wasn't responsible for her mother's death, no more than he was responsible for Jack's. But the Ripper's madness had only worsened, to point he had no rationally or humanity. The girl tried to remember what he was—the brave and reckless, but dutiful and kind boy. Her friend. There was no return for him.

The Assassin thought quickly. No. She couldn't bear a world without her father. Especially if it meant she would be alone with this monster.

"I'll do what you say if you let him live," she promised, unable to stop the words coming out of her mouth.

"Will you now?" Jack mused, cocking his head.

Alexandra swallowed. He locked her away, drugged her, chained her. But she was not dying in a pool of her own bodily fluids. She was safe in a bed and fed. Jack the Ripper did not want to torture her. He wanted to keep her for himself. The poor girl began shaking at the revelation.

"I won't escape," she whispered, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. When Jack said nothing, she placed a tentative hand on his arm. If anyone else touched him, he would rip them on the spot. "I'll stay. I'll stay if you spare our father's life….I promise."

That got the killer's attention. Alexandra never broke a promise.

"Fine," Jack finally replied. "I know a good surgeon or two."

The girl sighed and moved her hand away from him. Then suddenly his large hand wrapped around hers. Before she could properly shout, he pulled her against his chest. An arm wrapped around her waist. Alexandra internally screamed at the unwanted contact, more so when he grasped her chin and tilted her fearful gaze up to meet his deadly one.

"Do not betray me again, my dear pet," Jack the Ripper rumbled.

He took her back to the dark room. He did not shackle her

.

I am a horrible person. And no, I'm not making this a Jack the Ripper X OC fanfiction. Their interactions will be based on how you interpret it. The rest of this story will be a combination of Ubisoft's DLC, the cliché serial killer profile, and psychoanalysis.

Yes, the writer is minoring in psychology. So expect a lot of terms. Lots.

So Alex's dug herself to a hole by making contradicting promises. Which one is she speaking the truth?