Disclaimer in part one
Previous parts can be found at: www.autumnpenguins.com
Author's Notes: This story is set in Whitechapel District in London. The Whitehapel killer a.k.a. Jack the Ripper made his final killing in Miller's Court on November 9th 1888. To this date the murders are still unsolved. Several Ripperologists believe Jack the Ripper was also responsible for several deaths in the area between 1885-1888. I have chosen to go with that timeline in this story. The title of this story comes from what is widely believed to be an authentic note from the Ripper to a London citizen. The return address read 'From Hell'. This story has nothing to do with the Wolverine comic 'Origins.' The historical content of this chapter is very real. The people mentioned in this story with * by them are loosely based on real people. A 'Doss house' is a place where the unfortunates of the city could find a bed for four pence a night. Miller's Court was one such place.
Many thanks: To: Karen and Jonas
Victor's Lab,
Present day "How long will he be out?" Marie inquired "Don't know. Erik said I was usually out for about an hour after I was hit with whatever came up in my mind." Victor answered. "Why are you doing this? I mean, no offence, but you did try to kill me once." She stated matter-of-factly. "It's a long story. But since Logan ain't gonna be talkin' for awhile I might as well tell you." It started back a long time ago. Before Erik or Charles was born... WhiteChapple District, London
October 30th, 1888 Nicolas Logan Adams trotted down the deserted street. Due to his lack of a raincoat the eleven year old was soaked from head to toe. That fact didn't bother him in the least, for his mind was elsewhere. His pockets were filled with the loot of the day. Pick pocketing had been lucrative and the young criminal was nearly beaming with pride. With his mother long since dead, and a father who was frequently gone Nicky had learned to fend for himself, He'd been a professional pickpocket since the tender age of four. Over the past few years his father had been gone for nights at a time, and the young boy's need to eat had turned him to a life of petty crime. The boy turned onto Broad Street and made his way to the `tiny cold water flat he shared with his father. Minutes later Nicky pushed the wooden door open and entered the building. There were no ashes in the fireplace, which meant his father hadn't been home and most likely wouldn't be for at least the rest of the night. Nicky sighed in disappointment and was suddenly too tired to do anything else but sleep. He stripped off his sopping clothing and crawled into bed. Nicky fell into a deep sleep as the devil of London struck again. ********* Nicolas woke in the early morning light. He dressed quickly in the frigid air and set out for the bakery. The streets were alive with men and women chatting excitedly. His curiosity piqued, young Nicolas crept forward toward a group of men. "Ay Thomas from Dellsville said he got the poor lass at Hanbury Street last night. Scotland Yard's got five inspectors on it! With five inspectors they ought to solve it soon eh?" the Irishman concluded. A booming voice joined the conversation. "Scotland Yard knows fuck-all! This bastard's been at it forever and they still don't have a bloody clue!" the owner of the voice bit out. " Jesus Jacob, can't ya watch your filthy mouth? There are ladies present!" his companion exclaimed. "They're not ladies. They're whores. Could be number four if they don't repent of their dirty ways." Jacob concluded. "Five." "What?" Jacob asked incredulously. " I said five, He's killed four so far, one more would be five." The well- build man finished. "So I was off by one. A dead whore don't count for nothin'" Jacob humphed and stalked off. The other men quickly dispersed and William Adams caught sight of his young son. "How long have you been standing there?" "Long enough father." The little rascal said before launching himself into his father's arms. William took his son by the hand and began walking home.
"You know it's not nice to eavesdrop on adults, Nicolas." "I know, but they was talkin' about the Ripper killings. Ain't nothin' more interesting around." He replied honestly. "Oh, so you think the brutal murders are interesting? We shall have to remedy that immediately. No son of mine will be gaggling like a goose about a lunatic." William stated in a tone that left no room for argument. He put the child down as they neared their home. Nicky was excited his father was home. He'd missed him the last few days. "Father, what do you do when you go away?" the child asked. "Business Nicky. I take care of business." William answered. "At night though? What sort of business takes place when the rest of the world's sound asleep?" Nicky persisted. "Unpleasant business. But someone has to see to it. Now enough of this talk, tell me what you have been up to lately. And what's this I hear about a certain Adams pick pocketing?" William asked as he closed the door.
************ November 9th, 1888 Nicolas had been walking the streets all day. The youngster hadn't seen hide nor hair of his father since the breakfast they had shared over a week ago. Nicky had been kicked out of the flat, as his father had neglected to pay the landlord and the child was prowling the streets in search of a doss house. He came upon Miller's Court and inquired about a bed. The generally rude doorman, took pity upon the kid, and decided to help him. There was a bed available, as Mary Creed* hadn't bothered to pay the required four pence that night. The pair walked down the narrow alleyway to a room in the back. There was an old rag stuffed in the window and the door was closed. The man went over and banged on the door. "Mary Creed! Open up. Ya haven't paid your due, there's another customer waiting for this bed!" the doorman shouted. There was no answer to his demands, and the doorman cursed. "Hold on kid, I'll be back." Nicky simply nodded and stood still. A moment later, the door, which wasn't on the most reliable hinges crashed to the floor. Nicky stepped inside and was overpowered by the sight before him. A man was on his knees, carving on what looked like a big piece of meat. Closer inspection revealed it was in fact a body, and the carver was William Adams. Nicholas made a small noise in his throat that caught the attention of William. The man turned to his son and locked his eyes onto his face. His eyes were dilated and coal black, eyes that looked as though they were from Satan himself. Nicky turned and fled down the dark streets of London's East End. He was too shocked to do anything but keep running. Perhaps if he ran long enough and far enough he could forget what he saw. Forever. Victor's Lab
Present Day. "The Metropolitan Police found the body the next morning. The doorman's was about ten feet away in the alley, with his throat slit. They also found a nine-year-old boy in the room, hiding underneath the bed. I'm that little boy." Victor finished with a pained expression. "Oh my God, Logan's father killed your mother?!" Marie empathized with the man. "No, OUR father killed my mother. Logan's my brother."
TBC..
Previous parts can be found at: www.autumnpenguins.com
Author's Notes: This story is set in Whitechapel District in London. The Whitehapel killer a.k.a. Jack the Ripper made his final killing in Miller's Court on November 9th 1888. To this date the murders are still unsolved. Several Ripperologists believe Jack the Ripper was also responsible for several deaths in the area between 1885-1888. I have chosen to go with that timeline in this story. The title of this story comes from what is widely believed to be an authentic note from the Ripper to a London citizen. The return address read 'From Hell'. This story has nothing to do with the Wolverine comic 'Origins.' The historical content of this chapter is very real. The people mentioned in this story with * by them are loosely based on real people. A 'Doss house' is a place where the unfortunates of the city could find a bed for four pence a night. Miller's Court was one such place.
Many thanks: To: Karen and Jonas
Victor's Lab,
Present day "How long will he be out?" Marie inquired "Don't know. Erik said I was usually out for about an hour after I was hit with whatever came up in my mind." Victor answered. "Why are you doing this? I mean, no offence, but you did try to kill me once." She stated matter-of-factly. "It's a long story. But since Logan ain't gonna be talkin' for awhile I might as well tell you." It started back a long time ago. Before Erik or Charles was born... WhiteChapple District, London
October 30th, 1888 Nicolas Logan Adams trotted down the deserted street. Due to his lack of a raincoat the eleven year old was soaked from head to toe. That fact didn't bother him in the least, for his mind was elsewhere. His pockets were filled with the loot of the day. Pick pocketing had been lucrative and the young criminal was nearly beaming with pride. With his mother long since dead, and a father who was frequently gone Nicky had learned to fend for himself, He'd been a professional pickpocket since the tender age of four. Over the past few years his father had been gone for nights at a time, and the young boy's need to eat had turned him to a life of petty crime. The boy turned onto Broad Street and made his way to the `tiny cold water flat he shared with his father. Minutes later Nicky pushed the wooden door open and entered the building. There were no ashes in the fireplace, which meant his father hadn't been home and most likely wouldn't be for at least the rest of the night. Nicky sighed in disappointment and was suddenly too tired to do anything else but sleep. He stripped off his sopping clothing and crawled into bed. Nicky fell into a deep sleep as the devil of London struck again. ********* Nicolas woke in the early morning light. He dressed quickly in the frigid air and set out for the bakery. The streets were alive with men and women chatting excitedly. His curiosity piqued, young Nicolas crept forward toward a group of men. "Ay Thomas from Dellsville said he got the poor lass at Hanbury Street last night. Scotland Yard's got five inspectors on it! With five inspectors they ought to solve it soon eh?" the Irishman concluded. A booming voice joined the conversation. "Scotland Yard knows fuck-all! This bastard's been at it forever and they still don't have a bloody clue!" the owner of the voice bit out. " Jesus Jacob, can't ya watch your filthy mouth? There are ladies present!" his companion exclaimed. "They're not ladies. They're whores. Could be number four if they don't repent of their dirty ways." Jacob concluded. "Five." "What?" Jacob asked incredulously. " I said five, He's killed four so far, one more would be five." The well- build man finished. "So I was off by one. A dead whore don't count for nothin'" Jacob humphed and stalked off. The other men quickly dispersed and William Adams caught sight of his young son. "How long have you been standing there?" "Long enough father." The little rascal said before launching himself into his father's arms. William took his son by the hand and began walking home.
"You know it's not nice to eavesdrop on adults, Nicolas." "I know, but they was talkin' about the Ripper killings. Ain't nothin' more interesting around." He replied honestly. "Oh, so you think the brutal murders are interesting? We shall have to remedy that immediately. No son of mine will be gaggling like a goose about a lunatic." William stated in a tone that left no room for argument. He put the child down as they neared their home. Nicky was excited his father was home. He'd missed him the last few days. "Father, what do you do when you go away?" the child asked. "Business Nicky. I take care of business." William answered. "At night though? What sort of business takes place when the rest of the world's sound asleep?" Nicky persisted. "Unpleasant business. But someone has to see to it. Now enough of this talk, tell me what you have been up to lately. And what's this I hear about a certain Adams pick pocketing?" William asked as he closed the door.
************ November 9th, 1888 Nicolas had been walking the streets all day. The youngster hadn't seen hide nor hair of his father since the breakfast they had shared over a week ago. Nicky had been kicked out of the flat, as his father had neglected to pay the landlord and the child was prowling the streets in search of a doss house. He came upon Miller's Court and inquired about a bed. The generally rude doorman, took pity upon the kid, and decided to help him. There was a bed available, as Mary Creed* hadn't bothered to pay the required four pence that night. The pair walked down the narrow alleyway to a room in the back. There was an old rag stuffed in the window and the door was closed. The man went over and banged on the door. "Mary Creed! Open up. Ya haven't paid your due, there's another customer waiting for this bed!" the doorman shouted. There was no answer to his demands, and the doorman cursed. "Hold on kid, I'll be back." Nicky simply nodded and stood still. A moment later, the door, which wasn't on the most reliable hinges crashed to the floor. Nicky stepped inside and was overpowered by the sight before him. A man was on his knees, carving on what looked like a big piece of meat. Closer inspection revealed it was in fact a body, and the carver was William Adams. Nicholas made a small noise in his throat that caught the attention of William. The man turned to his son and locked his eyes onto his face. His eyes were dilated and coal black, eyes that looked as though they were from Satan himself. Nicky turned and fled down the dark streets of London's East End. He was too shocked to do anything but keep running. Perhaps if he ran long enough and far enough he could forget what he saw. Forever. Victor's Lab
Present Day. "The Metropolitan Police found the body the next morning. The doorman's was about ten feet away in the alley, with his throat slit. They also found a nine-year-old boy in the room, hiding underneath the bed. I'm that little boy." Victor finished with a pained expression. "Oh my God, Logan's father killed your mother?!" Marie empathized with the man. "No, OUR father killed my mother. Logan's my brother."
TBC..