Hopefully this clears some things up.
PARIS, FRANCE - TWO IN THE MORNING, PARIS TIME.
THE SEINE - Nightclub: NOT where one would believe THEY would meet: .
Dressed in the latest fashions, the five members arrived, as inconspicuous as any of the other twenty, and thirty somethings in the room, and just as ignored. Their combined age was roughly ten thousand years - their actions, both selfish and altruistic had shaped every life they passed by.
The first to enter was known as one of the most cunning men in history; a general so brilliant, that those who rose to ultimate power in his stead, took his name as that of ultimate ruler... Julius Ceasar. He was younger in appearence now, with no signs of the disease that had brought him to his decision to die for the people of Rome to be free of the control of the landed elite - an act that bound him to the elimental in the diamond that 'soothsayer' had placed in his palm when he had issued his warning of March. That day he became immortal.
"Beware the Ides of March," so wrote that English playwrite... not exactly what the grinning 'man' had said to him on that day - the second time he had seen him. It had been more blunt.
It was in England - before it was England. He had made some inroads with his army... the Eagle was carried proudly through the swamps, bogs and forrests; until the first attack, then the second, third, etc. He had been inconsolable at the losses, the futility of fighting ghost, myths, local legends, this cursed unbreachable land. Then HE came out of the myst - grinning - and altered his invasion plans... and history.
The grinning man had eyes alive with myscheif, and knowing; a full beard, and long brown hair; three men, and two women arrayed about him, dressed in long, flowing, white robes: Druid priests, and priestesses. The man had stepped to the Roman, right passed Ceasars seemingly frozen guards, and spoke one word... "Emperor."
The general found himself trembling, caught in the beginnings of another seizure, when th grinning man reached out, and with a touch, calmed him instantly.
"You really need to do something about that," the stranger had said, "I have a cure... for ALL that ailes you. Come."
He had been led into the night, passed his men as a spirit, and toward distant fields, and an odd circle of massive stones. What he saw there both nausiated, and entrapped him forever.
Young, beautiful men and women tortured to death in the slowest fashions imaginable - all of them oddly willing.
The grinning man shook his head, "Defeats the whole purpose," he sighed in dismay, "These young lives are waisted. It is not blood... but fear - terror - that fed these stones."
Ceasar gazed at the man in disbelief, "WHAT?"
"Do you know why you cannot defeat these people?" the stranger asked.
"THIS? THIS MADNESS?" the general screamed.
"Not anymore," the man said, the grin returning to his face and eyes, "Zelotry, faith in all this 'madness'. They believe, therefore they can... till something shows them otherwise. What power these rituals once possessed, however, is lost in the willing of the sacrifice. There is magic afoot general. But the ends require power to fuel it, an unending power... the soul."
"What?," Ceasar gasped, "More reason to kill you all!"
The grinning man shook his head, "THAT is something none shall EVER accomplish. THIS land, this people shall endure. THESE? these robbed figures? Another story... perhapse. The cause that brought you here - to amass enough gold and influence to topple the elite of your nation? I can help you end their coruption and power... forever. All it requires is a sacrifice - you. But a sacrifice wrought with enough anguish and pain to bond you to me, to these stones, and to the power bound within them - forever."
"Sorcerer!" Ceasar had screamed, drew his sword and ran the man through the gut.
The grinning man had gasped, grabbed his gut, and collapsed.
The Roman had then slaughtered the entire host of priests as the prietesses ran, fleeing in terror. As the last fell, he heard raucous applause from the center of the circle of stones.
The grinning man stood, laughing and clapping as the last of his followers fell. "Excellent! I truly do have an eye for talent."
"Impossible," Ceasar stammered.
"Not at all!," the man laughed joyously, "THIS is the power I spoke of! The emotions! the strongest emotions, have such power as to move the very heavens! It is that power, found only in the soul of man that I offer. Join me Ceasar. Join me, and share in the wealth of nations and oceans of time. Feed me, anf these stones, and I will make you... immortal."
"Who, what are you?," The general asked.
The grinning man smirked wider, "These few called me the lord of the three elements of power, Earth, Wind and Fire - or, as some simply say - Lord Trinity, Lord of The Trinity... etc. You may call me what you will. How about: Master?" And with that, he looked to the sky, and smiled as a storm suddenly erupted just above him. Caesar stared in astonishment; the grinning man just roared in laughter as the blood was washed clean by the rain, and the bodies set ablaze as if by his will, the flames untouched by the confligration. The grinning man's eyes blazed like a blacksmith's forge.
That day was over two thousand years ago. On that day he made a pact that he would honor and keep for all this time, recruiting this group of five, and two others - both dead by choice; one managing to escape the eternal spiritual trap they were all bound for by sacrificing himself to save an innocent - to 'feed' the ever growing power that gave them, and their followers their faith, their power, their hell.
It was he who spoke to HIM; he who carried HIS voice to the others; and he who gave direction; and without him, HE would have no connection to them... and the great soldier was growing tired of it all. Ceasar wondered if HE knew that.
He sat down in a long, black leather apholstered booth in the back, and waited.
A seemingly simple man stepped fort, a Rosary tucked discreetely in his grey silk shirt. Next, a lean, broad shouldered man of some thirty years and Mongol decent sat next to him, then the fourth strode up, gazing about at the beautiful youth around him, his eyes alive with almost manic glee.
Ceasar glared at him, "SIT, Jack," he commanded.
The Ripper smilled at him, "Oh, Hail Ceasar indeed, TWO of us of that... your ... title. Why not call me what everyone else does... Caligula."
"More likely ANIMAL, RABID DOG," the Mongol rumbled.
"The great Khan... reduced to name calling? Sad."
The Mongol rose to his feet.
"SIT DOWN!" Ceasar roared, "Both of you."
Both men obeyed, the Ripper doing so with a grin.
"Where is Rasputin?," the poorly disuised Father Longinus asked.
The Ripper laughed, "Oh that is priceless. 'A Monk and a priest enter a bar...'."
None laughed.
Ceasar pointed to the bar, "Where else."
A long black haired man in his late twenties was talking to a group of young women in fluent Russian, his Ruby ringed finger on the knee of one of the prettiest.
"Good thing none of the 'true believers' of our cause see this; they'd shoot him on the spot."
"And fair no better than those two Russian princes who tried to kill him all those years ago for 'bedeviling the mind of the Tzarina' did," the Ripper said with a smirk, "'He drowned,'... liars."
"Gregory!" the Khan shouted.
The long haired man gazed over at the booth, then at the women, and laughed with them before sitting down beside the Mongol. "Gentlemen?," he said to the three men beside him, "IT," he said to the Ripper.
"Enough with the childish bullshit," Ceasar rumbled, "we have VERY important things to discus."
"The Croft girl?" the Ripper asked, "the soon to be dead Croft girl? NOT a problem."
"Leave her," Caesar stated bluntly, "... for now."
"How so?" The Ripper asked.
"WE have forever to end her. If we do nothing, all her claims about us... vanish. What can she say? What comfirmable proof does she have we even exist? Anything she says will seem insain. No one will listen to her, and she will simply fade into inconsequence... THEN by all means... kill her. But make it look natural, accidental self inflicted."
They nodded as one. Some far more relieved than they let on.
One, enraged.
...
They spent the rest of the morning drinking, entertaining, spending lavishly, then left with scores of willing women, except the Ripper. All the while, however, his mind raced, 'They have no faith in me! I who fed our lord greater than all others... and they have no faith?!'
He was beside himself with rage. Offered an apple then having it snatched away! He would show them his worth. Make it look natural? He could do that. He was NOT an animal! He was a surgeon! He proved that time and again! Mary Kelly? THAT was what it always came back to... Mary. HE COULDN'T EVEN REMEMBER KILLING HER! let alone... .
But he was better now. He'd show them. She would never feel a thing. Quick and quiet, and peaceful. No more guilt, no more questions... she could be with her parents again. He was such a good man.