The layout details they'd received for the house had been correct so far. The main hallway downstairs had rooms either side, Joseph had been quick to check the ones on the right and found them empty, it was only the left side that noise travelled from behind the closed doors.

Jackson had disappeared upstairs as soon as they'd entered the house, and for what Joseph could hear through the deafening thunder he heard no sounds of struggle nor gunfire, meaning the American was yet to find Duggan. Joseph knew he need not hurry with his main task just yet, there was something else he had to do first. With a quick pace he ignored the unchecked rooms and headed straight for the back, down a set of steps and into the kitchens.

It was a man like Silas Duggan that would force the people of Whitechapel into debts they could never repay, or not by monetary means at least. Three daughters were taken a few weeks past, it had taken Joseph far too long to track them down, but given their current 'residence' it was no wonder why it had been such an arduous task to do so.

The door was open to the kitchen space and as he neared it he saw two young girls, a brunette and a blonde, no older than 20 surely, scrubbing down the worktops. He began to walk towards them when a delicate voice sounded from behind him. "Can I help y'Sir?"

Joseph turned, though rather too quickly at that and forgetting the strip of cloth he'd used to mask his lower face he startled a third, much smaller girl who was carrying a tray of extravagant glasses. He jerked forward desperately as the tray slipped from her fingers and managed to catch it before it touched the ground, the glasses sliding around the fine silver tray but not falling from it.

He barely had a second to exhale in relief before he heard rushed footsteps coming up from behind him, still crouched he turned his head and instinctively brought an arm up to block the knife that was making its way towards his face.

It was one of the girls he saw just moments before, there was no doubting her strength but Joseph's grip on her arm tightened, setting the tray on the floor immediately he removed the mask from his face. "It's not me y'need to be afraid of, girl."

Cerulean eyes widened, her hold on the knife slackened as a smile broke from her lips. "Joseph Mast?!" It seems they knew of him. He stood and released her arm from his touch, giving a terse reply and nodded, watching as the hope lit up her eyes. "You've come to take us home Sir?" He opened his mouth to confirm their wish but his attention was drawn to a noise coming from the back door of the kitchen and the four of them eyed it, the girls turned silent and tense.

"That I 'ave-" Joseph broke the silence as he passed them and crossed the distance to the door, taking the only pistol he carried from his pocket and firing in time with the thunderclap at the absurdly large sized padlock that held the door shut.

With the iron still in his hand he tapped it to the wood of the door, it creaked open slowly to reveal two young men who stepped into the doorway. Joseph returned the gun to his pocket, his words more an utterance as he spoke. "You were not seen?"

"No, Mr. Mast. Trouble's brewin' down by the ways, keepin' them blue bottles busy." He nodded as the lads spoke, turning to the girls and gesturing with a hand for them to come forward. "Go now, and make fast for home. This is Jim and Peter-" he points to the young men in turn, "-they'll keep y'safe alright?"

"Wha' about you Mr. Mast?" The blonde seemed concerned, and Joseph flashed her a smirk, his voice but a whisper as he bent his head down to her. "I 'ave business that I must attend t'first, I will follow when it's done." Her gaze fell from his eyes as the reality of what he said sunk in. It was no secret that Joseph had a talent for making other men disappear, (ones who deserved it, mind) and although she knew he had to do it, the fear she held for him was quite real. Whether Joseph knew it or not the people of Whitechapel were behind him in their own ways, they would rather not see him dead.

Joseph walked briskly back up the steps and into the main hallway, it was still free of any of Duggan's men, they hadn't moved from the room yet. Our tip was right. There were two double doors leading into the room that the group of men were in, and as Joseph neared the closest to him he took a length of rope from within his coat, weaving it carefully around the handles and knotting it tightly.

He pulled the piece of cloth around his neck up over his nose again, covering his lower face as he walked to the next door. According to their information the men were more or less spineless cowards when it came to a fight, Joseph was not expecting them to put up much resistance but nonetheless, this was Whitechapel and it was best to be prepared for anyth-BANG!

Brown eyes shot to the top of the stairs to the origin of the sound, there wasn't a soul in sight but Joseph knew what he'd heard. Jackson must have found Duggan. He held his breath as he listened, his fingers were wrapped around the door handle ready to open it but he was fixated, frozen in his position.

Why was there only one shot? He'd have thought Jackson would have emptied all of his brass into Duggan the way the surgeon was looking at him earlier. A tumbling noise came from overhead, feet pounding against the ceiling and a heavy thud as something fell. The urge to run up the stairs was almost inescapable, and the longer Joseph stood there the closer he was in going to see what was happening until he heard a voice from behind the door he was stood at that seemed to be getting louder.

"No, he's kept us long enough. I don't care who they are that he was 'taking business' with. We have to talk about the latest proposal and for god's sake where is that damned girl with the drinks?!"

A familiar impulse clicked within Joseph and in one swift motion he opened both the doors just as the man on the other side neared them, his dark eyes wide with shock at the sight of the masked man. Joseph sent the doors flying inwards, striking the man in the face with enough force to knock him off his feet, blood pouring from his nose, a dent carved deep into his forehead from the hardwood of the door.

He spluttered in the blood as he tried to crawl backwards and away from his attacker, the other men in the room all on their feet as Joseph counted them. Nine.

"Who the HELL do you think you are?!"

Glancing over at the owner of the voice Joseph recognised the man, he'd been on his hit list for some time, Rackshaw they called him. Just another damned tyrant in the district with a greed and cruelty almost as foul as Silas Duggan's.

A malevolent grin pulled at the corners of Joseph's mouth. "I am death." Without any further warning he threw his arm out as the blade up his sleeve found his fingers and was sent flying through the air, hitting the man square between the eyes.

The room erupted with noise as the men shouted and called out curses at him, some of them fleeing to the door that Joseph had already tied shut, their faces stricken with panic. Joseph counted two- no three men pulling pistols out and aiming at him. Shots fired and he was sent backwards crashing into the table behind him, pain surging through his chest, ears ringing from the sound.

Well. I do like a challenge.