There was a box set in the middle of an empty room. It was a wooden crate to be precise, and the room was quite cave-like, being poorly lit with slick floors and dripping water, could it even be called a room?
And of course, inside the box, were the four people everyone seemed to be worried about. Actually only the Doctor and company were worried about them, but they're really everyone that matters, all the other residents of London, EC-146 were perpetually too occupied with their own troubles and so they really couldn't be bothered to spare a worry for someone else's.
Somehow Lydia, Clara, Gage, and Siv were all still alive, and slowly, one by one, they were waking up. It appears that they disrupted the Rippers' ritual and so were of no use to them, that, or the Rippers were planning to kill them later, perhaps as a larger sacrifice to their twisted plans, if indeed they actually had any plans. Perhaps the Rippers had some large scheme and the murders were just a means to an end. Perhaps they belonged to some obscure cult and were pawns in other's plans. Or perhaps they were just murderous, insane psychopaths that merely enjoyed the kill.
Whatever the case, it occurred to each of the captives upon their awaking that they should probably escape, and do so as quickly as possible. But unfortunately for them, the crate they were locked in was quite sturdy…
The Doctor, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Peter Ness were on a walk. Holmes knew the city's underbelly better than almost anyone and had a few ideas where the Rippers may be holing up. So far they hadn't panned out, but Holmes wasn't ready to give up yet; he had several more ideas and quite a few contacts left to pursue before he even approached the idea of defeat (even temporary defeat).
The group was stopped short by the presence of a large crowd gathered in the road in front of them. They were jeering at someone, pumping their fists in the air threateningly, and Peter could even see a few stones being thrown.
"What's going on?" the Doctor asked, standing behind the group and being significantly shorter, she had an even worse view than Peter
"A lynching" Sherlock Holmes said, grimacing
"What?!" Peter exclaimed
"That's the second one this week" Watson added
"How could they do that? Why isn't anyone stopping them?!" Peter asked
"It's because they're afraid" the Doctor answered, her mouth setting into a tight line and her eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of her
"So what, they just gang up on anyone that looks suspicious?" Peter asked, incredulous
"Basically" she responded
"How many have there been in total?" Peter asked, looking at Watson
"Including this one, five" he responded
"So they've already killed four innocent people," Peter said, looking at the crowd in horror
"Yes, and they only started last week," Holmes said, "At this rate they'll be more prolific than the Rippers"
"They only started last week…" Peter echoed, "But the killings started weeks ago"
"At first the Rippers were only copying the original's crimes, killing prostitutes and taunting the police. Then they finished recreating the murders and went off script. It seems their ideas are more horrifying to the common Londoner than even the original Ripper" Watson said in a thoughtful way
"But people are people, how are these off script murders more disturbing than the originals?" Peter asked
"Because it was 'them' and not 'us'," the Doctor replied, her face was dark and impassive, "That's what they thought when it was just prostitutes dying. They thought they were safe, that anyone they could possibly know or care about was safe. And then the Rippers started killing indiscriminately, putting the bodies on display. And suddenly it wasn't just 'them' anymore, it was anybody. Anyone could be the next victim. No one was safe. And now everyone is scared"
Everyone was silent for a moment, there was nothing to say, no way to respond, no suitable comment. Holmes, a perpetual study of behavior, had come to the same conclusion. Watson, who had witnessed worse in his eventful life, wasn't shocked, horrified, or even surprised by such actions or the psychology behind them. Only Peter was shocked and horrified, and, standing in the midst of everything he had once wanted (a world of science-fiction, aliens, and the bizarre), suddenly realized that he wanted to go home.
Perhaps the pressures of living up to a family's expectations weren't so bad… Peter thought.
"This is so messed up," Peter said, looking on at the crowd, listening to the stones and the taunts and the sounds of someone in pain. And all at once it overwhelmed him; his stomach turned over and he stumbled back, leaning against a building and puking.
The Doctor showed no sign of emotion, her face was completely blank, but if one was observant enough, as Holmes was, they could glean a glimpse of the truth: something dark in her expression, something angry in her eyes, and something like sorrow, disappointment, and resignation in the set of her shoulders. Holmes stepped forward and reached for her arm, but she was already gone, pushing her way through the crowd before anyone could stop her.
In the center of the mob a man was kneeling on the ground, he was bent over, his hands covering his face, and blood was streaming from the many wounds inflicted upon him, it dripped through his fingers and matted his hair, stained his skin and colored the ground. He heard someone throw another stone, but there was no accompanying pain or injury. He looked up in surprise, an injury to his head had left streams of blood sluicing down his face, making it difficult to see very well, but he saw her. There was a girl, a woman, standing in front of him, her arms outstretched, shielding him from the crowd.
"Hey girl, get outta the way!" someone called, throwing another stone, this time at her
"No!" she called back, "I won't let you kill an innocent man"
"He ain't innocent!" another mob-goer replied
"Fine, then take him to the police and let him stand trial," she said, "Let there be due process and no shadow of a doubt of his guilt"
"There are no shadows to his guilt," someone else replied, a woman
"Yeah, everyone's seen him out after dark," someone else added
"And messing around with the girls!" another person growled
"Who else could be the Ripper?"
"Yeah, we all know it's him!"
"And is that what you said about the other four people you killed," the woman said, her words were followed by a moment of silence, and then a cacophony of noise as everyone threw their opinions at their neighbors and argued their point
"The others may have been innocent, but this man is guilty!" someone said, their voice louder than the rest
"The police aren't doing anything!"
"If we let the law handle it, we'll all die!"
"We ain't gonna sit by and let the Ripper kill more of us!"
"We're getting picked off one by one!"
"Last night there were two…"
The people started picking up stones and throwing them, not caring who they hit, whether it was the girl or the man, whether they were innocent or guilty.
"Stop! This isn't right!" someone else yelled, their voice cutting through the crowd, a young blond man standing next to two other men, trying to push their way through the crowd (some may recognize two of the men as a Mr. Holmes and a Mr. Watson, respectively; no one would recognize the third man, one time-lost Peter Ness)
"The world ain't right," a member of the crowd jeered
"Yes, and you don't have to add to its wrongness" the girl said, the fresh blood all too apparent against her shocking white hair, "Just because the world isn't fair doesn't mean people can give up on justice"
The Doctor looked up at the crowd, her resolve was unshakable, her eyes were fixed and calm and filled with burning fire; no one would sway her. As her gaze drifted over the crowd they became acutely uncomfortable, feeling like misbehaving children caught in the act, and one by one they started to drop their stones.
A sharp grey pebble materialized from the crowd, hitting the Doctor. She stumbled and was momentarily disoriented, putting her hand against her temple.
"This is our justice" someone said, and the eyes of the crowd hardened, their resolves returning, and their hands grabbed the rocks strewn across the ground
The Doctor was thinking very hard about how to get out of this situation, trying to frame the right argument and find the right words to sway the hearts of the assembled mob. Holmes and Watson were thinking along similar lines. Peter, the youngest and least experienced of the group, was ready to jump to the Doctor's aid (literally), and was only stopped by Watson's firm hand on his shoulder. Watson had once been that young and reckless; ready to leap to the aid of anything in a skirt, and not quite planning ahead or thinking of the consequences.
"Doctor!" a voice called from the crowd
The Doctor turned towards the sound of the familiar voice, and all at once everything seemed to happen. She suddenly felt a coldness at her neck and a warmth at her back. Without moving her head, she looked down, and the coldness turned into a prick of pain and the warmth of dripping blood. The man at her back quickly flashed the knife for the crowd to see, turning it so that the blade caught the light and reflected it into the eyes of the spectators, before returning it to her throat. Everyone grew silent.
Clara burst through the crowd, stopping short in the empty space at its center as she saw the scene unfolding in front of her. There was a tall, long haired man holding a knife to the Doctor's throat, and both of them were injured. Many in the mob still had rocks in their hands, but were so startled by the sudden turn of events that they didn't know what to do with them. They were actually right for a change, they had actually found the Ripper.
The man used the crowd's stunned confusion to escape, throwing the Doctor over one shoulder and using his knife to slash at anyone that got in his way; they disappeared into the nearest alley.
Clara ran after them, shoving people aside, and burst into the alley only seconds after the man had entered. It was empty.
"Doctor!" she called, but there was no reply
"Clara!" Gage called, running into the alley just after her
"Gage!" Peter called, also arriving in the alley and noticing his long-time friend Gage
"Peter!" Gage exclaimed
Then Lydia, Holmes and Watson all entered the alley, nearly running into each other.
"Lydia!" Holmes, Watson, and Peter said, simultaneously
"Holmes, Watson!" Lydia exclaimed
"Siv!" Siv called out, wondering if this was some bizarre human custom
"Who are all these people?" Watson asked, prompting Peter and Gage to introduce everyone
"Now that we have these pointless introductions out of the way, can we please attend to the larger matter at hand?" Clara said sharply, motioning at the ground, "The Doctor's been abducted, and could be about to die while we stand here exchanging pleasantries."
"Quite right Miss Clara, thank you for keeping us on point" Holmes said (and Clara would later swear that he winked at her); then he strode forward deeper into the alley and knelt down to examine the ground
Holmes touched his finger to a shoeprint left in the dirt, bringing his fingers up to his face for closer inspection. He rubbed his thumb and finger together, examining whatever he had picked up. Then he laid down on his stomach and put his face on the ground.
"Hmm…" he murmured
"What is it?" Clara asked, "What did you find?"
"Well, it's too early to say that our Doctor friend is with the Ripper, or one of the Rippers anyway… but the man that took her most definitely wasn't human," Holmes said, standing back up and looking at a point above his head
Clara followed Holmes's gaze; it was fixed on a nearby rooftop.
"You don't mean…?" Clara said
"The footprints, they're deeper than an average persons," Gage commented, also looking at the tracks, "And where they disappear, they're even deeper, and they're pointed… Oh, I see what you mean," he said, his eyes also wandering upward
"Well, don't leave us in suspense," Lydia said, a bit annoyed, "Tell us what you've figured out"
"Sorry," Gage apologized, blushing
"They figured out how the man escaped" Siv said, her voice sounding far away, then she also looked up at the neighboring rooftop
"He jumped," Clara supplied, "Three stories in the air"
"But that isn't possible" Lydia said
"Not for a normal human, no," Clara agreed, "But after all I've seen, I wouldn't be surprised if there were some aliens that could"
"And during the war, I saw my share of augmented humans," Watson added, "Some were strong enough to bend iron, others had the stamina to go days without sleep or run untiring for miles. After all, what's the point of altering a soldier if you don't make them better…" as Watson spoke, his gazed was far-off and unseeing, "Anyway, I wouldn't rule out the possibility of this being some altered human"
"Speculations, speculations," Holmes said, obviously annoyed, "We need to get on that roof, there may be some vital clue we've missed. We have too little evidence, at this point it would be reckless to form definite conclusions."
Holmes strode off towards the building's entrance, leaving everyone else behind. It almost looked like he was sulking.
Everyone followed after him moments later, but by the time they reached the door he was halfway to the roof. As they climbed up the stairs, chasing after the frantic detective, Peter asked the question that was on everyone's mind:
"How did you guys escape the Rippers?" Peter asked
"Oh, well, that's a long story," Gage said, sighed and then dove in, his retelling of the story occasionally punctuated by comments from Lydia, Siv, and Clara.
There was a box set in the middle of an empty room. It was a wooden crate to be precise, and the room was quite cave-like, being poorly lit with slick floors and dripping water, could it even be called a room?
The crate was made from a wood as sturdy as iron.
"Seriously? Why are you going on about the box?" Lydia asked
Anyway, the box…
"Skip the box!" Lydia interrupted
One by one we woke up inside this box. There was so little light we could barely see, and the most we could make out were silhouettes…
"Hello, is anyone there?" Gage asked, his question was greeted with silence
"Uhm, that's not how I remember it happening. I distinctly remember waking up first," Clara added
"No, that was me, you woke up after," Lydia interjected
*Ahem* Anyway…
"Gage?" Clara responded, "Are you alright?"
"Clara…?" Gage said, still a bit groggy, then he responded, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine"
"Is Siv here too?" Clara asked
"Yes, I am also present here," Siv responded, "But, where is 'here'?"
"And who are you people?" Lydia asked
"Hello, I'm Clara, this is Gage, and that's Siv'Irai… for what it's worth," Clara said, trying to introduce them in the nearly absolute darkness where faces had no names or meanings, "Who are you?"
"Lydia," Lydia responded, "Were you guys also captured by the Ripper?"
"Yes, though from what I gather, there's probably more than one," Gage said
"More than one? Are you sure?" Lydia asked
"Yeah, there's no way one guy could have nabbed all of us at the same time," Gage replied, "Plus, Siv and I weren't even near you guys when we were captured… we got… disoriented. And the creature that knocked us out definitely wasn't human"
"Creature?" Clara asked
"Yes, it was some form of alien species I have never encountered before," Siv said, "It most certainly had very intense telepathic abilities, enough to induce hallucinations and unconsciousness"
"Blimey," Lydia said, like a curse, "How do we compete with something like that?"
"First thing's first, let's get out of here," Clara said, "We won't be of any use if we're dead"
"Or trapped like rats in this box," Gage added, he gave a solid kick at the crate
"Ow," Siv said passively, her voice carefully emotionless, "That was my arm, not the crate"
"Sorry…" Gage said, "Ow!" he exclaimed as a foot hit him squarely in the face
"Sorry," Siv said, her tone neutral and unrepentant, "I was also aiming for the crate"
"You totally did that on purpose," Gage said
"I guess we'll never know the truth," she replied
"Children. Please stop squabbling," Clara said in her best teacher voice, then, after a moment of silence she continued, "Now, any ideas how we can get out of here? ...Other than aimlessly kicking each other…?"
"If we all sit in the middle of the crate, we can brace our backs and kick the crate together," Lydia suggested
"The forces would be spread out, instead of focused in one area. Also, this crate seems unusually sturdy. I don't think it would be enough to break it," Gage said
"Well then Gage, do you have a better idea?" Clara asked
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," Gage said, and then went on to explain his plan, "If we all sit on one side of the crate, and kick together, the force we apply would be focused on the same wall of the crate. If we're using force to get out of here, then I think that would be our best bet"
"Siv, can you use your telekinesis to remove the nails holding this crate together?" Clara asked; the thought having come to her after hearing Gage's plan
"No… I'm sorry, I can't," Siv replied, "This wood is not normal, it is… absorbing my psychic abilities"
"It must be made from Oborose trees," Lydia said
"Oborose trees?" Clara asked
"Yes, they're called Psychic Trees," Lydia replied, "They grow on the planet Oboro. The forests there are said to change with the moods of the people that inhabit it. As far as anyone knows the trees aren't sentient, but the colors of their leaves still change seemingly at random, and the pattern of their growth even suggests that they are aware of other life forms and grow in ways that accommodate them. After quite a bit of testing, scientists eventually came to the conclusion that the trees were psychic. And later they discovered that the wood from these trees naturally inhibits psychic abilities"
"So they decided to use this probably rare and expensive wood to make… crates?" Gage said, disbelieving, "What are they planning on shipping anyway?"
"We can worry about that later," Clara said, "For now, let's just focus on getting out of this box"
"So then, we will go with Gage's plan?" Siv asked
"Yes," Clara replied
In the cramped darkness they managed to move around just enough to be on the same side of the crate, but really, the crate was so small Clara ended up sitting on Siv's lap and Gage was awkwardly crammed into the corner. After much wiggling, and quite a bit of cursing, they settled into their spots and when Clara gave the order, they all kicked out at the crate's side. They kicked again. And again. And again.
With a loud creaking, the crate cracked, splintered, and broke under their combined force. But as the force of their kick sent the crate's side flying outward, they were sent with equal force in the opposite direction, and being one side short, the crate collapsed entirely, leaving them sprawled on the floor, covered by the wood.
Gage clutched his leg, Lydia held her foot, Siv massaged her arm, and Clara rubbed her head.
"Okay, I get why this guy's holding his leg, and I'm holding my foot, but what the heck are you two doing?!" Lydia asked, pointing an accusing finger at Siv and Clara
"My arm's still sore from where Gage kicked me," Siv replied, pointedly
"The crate fell on my head," Clara answered
"Oh" Lydia said
"And that's what happened," Gage finished
He turned and saw Peter and Watson looking at him with carefully blank faces; the expressions of those who feel they're witnessing something incredibly stupid but are too polite to say anything about it.
"Hey, what's with those looks?" Gage asked
"All of that, and you didn't even find out what they're using the crates for?" Watson said, his face carefully neutral
"You get locked in a crate with three girls, and all you manage to do is kick one in the arm?" Peter added, his face still expressionless
"The building was empty, there wasn't any clue what they've been using the crates for," Gage protested, "And seriously Peter, that's the only thing you're worried about?!"
The elbow came out of nowhere, smashing Peter in the face and causing him to fall over.
"Oops, sorry, I tripped," Siv said, smiling; there was something distinctly unapologetic about that smile
"No… no worries," Peter said, waving it off while simultaneously holding his bloody nose
By then they'd already made their way to the roof, where they found an intense Holmes crawling on the ground.
"By the way, what's he doing?" Siv asked, pointing at Holmes
"Searching for evidence" Watson said confidently
"Really? To me he looks more like a hunting dog that's lost the scent," Clara said
"Holmes, is there any evidence they were here?" Watson called, hoping he'd found something
"They most definitely were here," Holmes replied, holding up what looked like a strand of white hair
"Oh, that's great! Which way did they go?" Peter asked
"Impossible to tell," Holmes replied
"*Tsk*, he's right, even if we search all the surrounding buildings individually, there's no guarantee we'd find the trail, not to mention all the time we'd waste," Clara said, looking out into the distance, her eyes were ablaze with an intense wrath
"So what do we do now?" Lydia asked
"My dear, we keep looking" Watson replied