London - London Streets
June 2, 1885 - 01:01 a.m. - Balmy
Amelia Lancaster
Amelia didn't even hesitate. She looped her arms around Mr. Ramsey's shoulders, and hoisted herself on his back. Were this any other occasion, it might have been considered improper, however; the current situation called for it. Whatever they were chasing, it was clearly not human, and Amelia didn't know what to make of it. Were those fairy tales she'd been told as a child, true? Were there really demons, as the church proclaimed, and other such supernatural entities? Having seen that shifter first hand, she was inclined to believe that there was some truth to what was told. That, or she'd finally lost her mind. That was an option as well.
She didn't linger on the thought, though, and took a deep breath. “I'm set," she stated, holding tightly to Mr. Ramsey's shoulders. She didn't want to accidentally fall off, even if his grip on her was good, and she didn't want to lose her balance, either.
“Make sure you hold on tight, Whitaker. It's about to get a little windy," Jaziri stated, his grip on Charlotte adjusting just slightly as if he were getting a better hold on her.
Beneath her, he shifted, returning to his feet with a kind of controlled, fluid swiftness that made it seem as though she weighed nothing at all. His gloved hands grasped her just beneath her knees—while hardly the most proper place for a man to be touching a lady, it was about as polite as he could be, considering the circumstances. Even through his gloves and her trousers, the difference in warmth was perceptible.
"Don't shoot me," he said blandly, drawing her attention to the fact that his gun was, in fact, still gripped tightly in one of her hands. She had just enough time to adjust her grip before he and Jaziri both took off, and suddenly they were hurtling down the tunnels at a speed that left the details blurring around her, at least until they turned a corner and plunged into what seemed like total darkness.
Their footsteps, however, did not falter, and the motion was so smooth that she could actually feel the pattern of Mr. Ramsey's breath, the slow, even intake and exhalation of air. About a minute after they'd entered the dark corridor, it changed, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth in what sounded like frustration.
"They've gone up. Miss Blythe, get the manhole cover."
"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice at least sounding clear now. There was the sound of clothes rustling, and then another set of feet hitting the ground at a run. "Thank you, Mr. Jaziri, but I'm okay now," she said, and then even as they ran her footsteps disappeared, followed by a heavy impact sound and the appearance of a sudden circle of light further down the tunnel.
"Don't let go," Mr. Ramsey muttered, almost under his breath but plenty loud enough for her to hear. "We're going up."
Seeing first Miss Blythe and then Mr. Jaziri disappear onto street level in single jumps indicated that they were not going to be climbing the rungs to do it, either.
Amelia gripped the pistol tightly in her hand before allowing her forearms to grip tighter around Mr. Ramsey's shoulders. This way, she wouldn't drop the pistol when he jumped, and she wouldn't lose her grip on him and fall off. They made the jump in a single go; it was a weird feeling to be hoisted up in such a way. It had nothing to do with the way he was holding her—it was the fact that the people she knew weren't exactly human. This wasn't what she thought she'd be involved with. Shifters, whatever Mr. Jaziri and Ramsey were, and even Charlotte. They all had human guises, but this...
She shifted her thoughts. There would be a time and place for that, however; at the moment they were chasing a suspect, and she needed to be focused on that. Even if she could barely see the surroundings as they rushed by, she could faintly see the two people in front. The Beast and the promoter were at least a few hundred yards in front of them.
“Oi, Ramsey," Mr. Jaziri spoke first, slowing his pace so that he was running beside Mr. Ramsey. “Even at our speed, he's getting further away. You have any ideas how to slow him down?" he asked, though Amelia could see his eyes glance towards the pistol that was in her hands.
Mr. Ramsey hummed, but his thoughts seemed to be running in the same direction. "Miss Whitaker: I'm going to get you as close as I can. I want you to shoot him. Can you do that?" His head turned slightly so that she could see the corner of one violet eye, but his steps never faltered.
She nodded, “Yes." She pulled the pistol so that it was over Mr. Ramsey's shoulder, and furrowed her brows. While Miss Vera was a good tutor, she hadn't exactly prepared Amelia to shoot whilst moving. She could shoot moving targets with a strange ease, but they were moving. Not her.
“Make sure you get a good shot, Whitaker. You don't want to accidentally shoot off Mr. Ramsey's ear," Mr. Jaziri stated, causing her to frown slightly.
“Mr. Jaziri, I politely request that you shut up before I accidentally shoot you," she retorted. She didn't need him to tell her that. She wasn't a novice playing with some toy. There was a sharper puff of air from Mr. Ramsey, barely audible over the rush, but it sounded almost amused.
Taking a deep breath, she re-aimed the pistol towards The Beast. If she timed this right, she could catch him in the shoulder which should cause him to drop the man he was carrying. That would be enough to at least get them both to stop. This would be under the assumption that the man was that important for the Beast to go back for him.
It's now or never, and with that single thought, she pulled the trigger. The bullet lodged itself in the back of The Beast's knee, causing him to fall forward. Amelia grimaced slightly—she wasn't aiming for his leg.
It didn't seem to be much of an issue in any case, though; he staggered, and his momentum was such that the man on his shoulder fell, pitched forward and onto the street. They lost precious seconds as the pursuit caught up, but then, almost as if it were some kind of miracle, the larger man stood, the bullet falling out of his wound and to the stone with a light clink, as though something had pushed it out. He scooped up his partner and leaped, this time alighting on a nearby rooftop.
Oddly, this didn't seem to surprise Mr. Ramsey any, and he followed—a great deal more smoothly than the men they were chasing. Even if the Beast had been able to shrug off a bullet, the stumble had cost them time, and the pursuers were steadily gaining the advantage. Shifting his grip on her, Mr. Ramsey reached up and gently took the gun from her hands, sliding it back into its holster.
"Just focus on holding on," he advised. "It won't be smooth for long."
Ahead of them, she could barely make out something happening to the man they were chasing. The furlike hair he'd sprouted earlier thickened, his back hunching and limbs seeming to grow long and thick enough to strain the seams of his trousers. There was a splitting sound—at least a few of them had given way—and then a dreadful, half-shrieking howl. Their quarry accelerated, leaping from one rooftop to the next, and the others followed. Amelia was briefly weightless as they soared, only to be brought back to ground again as Mr. Ramsey landed.
"Jaziri, Blythe: go east. You should be able to flank him around Porter street if you take the fastest track there. We'll herd him towards you."
Mr. Jaziri nodded, “You got it." He and Charlotte shifted towards the east, and disappeared. Amelia adjusted her grip on Mr. Ramsey, assuring herself that it was firm enough that she wouldn't risk falling off. She also didn't want to impede Mr. Ramsey's movement in any way. Once she was satisfied, she forced her gaze forward and ignored the slight drying sensation of her eyes. She could still see the creature in front of her and Mr. Ramsey, almost flying ahead of them as they continued their pursuit.
For a brief moment, Amelia lost sight of the creature as it rounded a corner. It looked like a sharp one to take, and she could hear the screeching of nails against stone. It sounded like the creature had to readjust himself, though how he managed while holding another person baffled Amelia. They took the corner, keeping their pursuit of the man until Amelia caught sight of Mr. Jaziri and Charlotte. They both appeared rather well, despite the fact that they had been running at an inhuman speed. Perks of being something not human, she supposed.
“Looks like they've managed to corner him," she stated. That was dangerous, though. Human or not, anything that felt cornered became more dangerous than it already was.
“Oi, mutt—I'd appreciate it if you'd stop running now," Jaziri commented, though he looked excited about something. Amelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was something no words could describe, but mostly he was giving her a headache.
Mr. Ramsey landed on the same rooftop with a soft thud and a bit of a grinding sound on the shingles. Carefully, he let her slide down until her feet made contact as well, then stepped forward and away from her. Without looking, he passed the gun back to her, but she could already tell that it was only a precaution. The creature—whatever it was—already bristled, and it was clear enough that the other three were going to be facing it directly, where the risk of accidentally hitting them if she shot was very high.
With deliberate, quiet steps, Mr Ramsey circled around behind the creature and its companion, hemming it in with Mr. Jaziri and Miss Blythe. Though he expressed none of Mr. Jaziri's excitement, there was a strange light to his eyes all the same: a glint of something she'd not seen before. Almost like... anticipation.
But it was the creature that moved first, lunging for Miss Blythe. The young girl drew her fist back and threw it forward, meeting the creature in the middle of its lunge, tiny curled hand landing square in the middle of its elongated nose. There was an uncomfortable, wet crunch, and then a yelp; both of them staggered back. Miss Blythe had several red welts along with long tears in her shirt, right around her ribcage, but she'd smashed the creature's lupine snout halfway in, by the look of it.
Now seemingly desperate and furious, it charged Mr. Jaziri instead, still seeking an opening, an escape.
Mr. Jaziri didn't even blink as the creature lunged for him, though he did look disappointed about something. He shifted to the side in an effortless manner, as if he were just gliding on a dance floor. He brough his arm in, bent at the elbow, and jabbed it into the creature's side with enough force to send it staggering to his left. “That won't do, mutt." Amelia didn't understand why he was trying to goad the creature. Why rile the creature up to make it more dangerous? She briefly wondered if she should have accidentally shot Mr. Jaziri, but that would have given the creature the escape he needed. Sighing inwardly, she continued watching as Mr. Jaziri and the beast attacked each other.
“Jaziri, stop playing with it," she finally spoke, watching as he grinned in her direction. From the look on his face, he appeared mostly to be playing with the creature rather than trying to fight it and bring it down. Unfortunately for her, though, the creature set its sights on her. Perhaps it could sense that, despite being by Mr. Ramsey, it would have a better chance going through her than it did any of the other three. It turned as if to make its way towards her, however; Mr. Jaziri tsked and grabbed it by its hind leg.
“And where do you think you're going, mutt? We were just getting started," he stated. From this distance, Amelia could see something slightly different about Jaziri. While he looked mostly fine, his hands seemed a little larger, and his fingers seemed elongated with sharp claws. He pulled the creature towards him, and whether it was the momentum, or the fact that Jaziri's claws were in the creature's hind leg, it caused the creature to stagger. It gave Jaziri a chance to twist the leg he was holding, and with a wet pop, Amelia knew he'd broken the leg.
“Not gonna stay broken for long, but..." he stated, pausing momentarily to give the leg a quick jerk, pulling it out of the socket, it seemed, “that should keep it from healing too quickly." With a broken leg, there wasn't much the creature could do, or so Amelia thought.
Of course, it still had three others, and that proved to be enough for it to shake free of Mr. Jaziri, and it made another grab for Amelia. This time, however, it was stymied by Mr. Ramsey, who caught the scruff of its furry neck as it passed by and yanked, slamming the creature into the rooftop. The shingles underneath their feet trembled, the structure creaking in protest at the mishandling.
The reason for what might have otherwise been excessive force soon became clear, though—a higher-pitched, more human yelp preceded a thud. It seemed the creature's companion had been trying to make a stealthy escape while the beast fought its losing battle. Now, however, the small man found himself swiftly detained by Miss Blythe, and the creature itself was clearly unconscious from the impact. Slowly, his form receded, until Mr. Ramsey was holding a large, but fully human-looking man by the nape of his neck.
Clicking his tongue against this teeth, Mr. Ramsey dropped the man, then canted his head slightly, as though sniffing the air. "Are you getting a bit of her perfume?" he asked of Mr. Jaziri. "It's faint under the drugs, but I think it's there."
Mr. Jaziri wrinkled his nose as he took a closer step to the beast. “It's there, just beneath the musk of dog's ass," he spoke, his nose wrinkling further. He'd made it abundantly clear that he did not like the smell of shifters, though Amelia did roll her eyes at the statement. It just smelled like wet dog to her, but she supposed if Mr. Jaziri's sense of smell was stronger, it might smell differently to him.
“I can say with certainty that this is the guy you want for Elizabeth's murder," he continued, his lips pursing into a fine line. His eyes narrowed almost into slits, as if he were trying to set this man—or creature—on fire with just his mind. For all she knew, he probably could. When the creature did not burst into flames, however; she turned her attention towards Mr. Ramsey and Charlotte.
“So, how are we going to process this one?" she asked. They couldn't exactly hand him over to the Yard, unless they were equipped to deal with beings like The Beast. His human counterpart, perhaps, but not the beast himself.
Charlotte pursed her lips, her visage uncommonly grave. "They've both violated the First Law," she said softly. "And that means it's not up to us what happens anymore."
As if on an unspoken cue, Mr. Ramsey advanced towards the fallen beast. Though Amelia was still holding his pistol, there was another gun in his hand. He pointed it square at the creature's forehead, speaking too low for Amelia to make out the words. The last of the fight seemed to leave the beast, its form receding until it once more bore the face and manner of a man, braced on his hands and knees. Tears streamed down his face, reflecting the scarce light of gas lamps and the moon overhead.
She could hear him well enough. “I'm sorry," he said, choking on the words, voice ragged as though it hurt to speak. “I didn't mean to hurt her. I didn't mean to attack you. The drugs, I—I didn't know."
Mr. Ramsey's expression did not change: hard, cold, pitiless. He cocked the hammer of the gun with a decisive click.
“Mr. Ramsey," Amelia wasn't sure why she spoke. Perhaps it was something in the man's voice, but Amelia was not the cold heart Mr. Ramsey seemed to be. Something squeezed painfully at her heart, and she took a few steps so that she was standing next to Mr. Ramsey. The man, whoever he was, did not deserve pity, but he deserved mercy. Of what nature, Amelia couldn't be sure. She was not accustomed to what Charlotte spoke of, this First Law, but she knew the laws of men. She had been studying them when she wasn't practicing with Miss Vera, and when she had the free time in Mr. Ramsey's establishment.
“Is it not enough that he can be charged for Elizabeth's murder, and let the Yard sentence him?" she asked. “Apologies do not bring back the dead," she continued, briefly glancing towards the man, “but shouldn't the Yard be the one to sentence him? To show Miss Elizabeth's parents that the perpetrator has been caught and is being dealt with?" Amelia was allowing her emotions to guide her on this, that much she was aware of.
Mr. Ramsey's glance cut sharp in her direction, steely and hard under the light, but he did not reply.
Mr. Jaziri, however, shook his head. “It's not that simple, Miss Whitaker. You see, you are human, and are governed by your human laws, however; creatures like us," he spoke, his eyes glancing in Charlotte and Mr. Ramsey's direction, “are governed by something a little different. I'm not entirely versed in what it is, myself, but what Mr. Ramsey is going to do is considered something of a mercy."
“This mercy you feel is wasted on creatures like him... like us," he spoke almost in a solemn tone, though Amelia didn't quite understand.
Mr. Ramsey squeezed the trigger of his gun, and though there was a brief flash at the muzzle, it made almost no sound at all. Instead of obliterating the creature's head, something else happened. Whatever projectile was fired from the barrel hit, and the target jerked backwards as if from heavy impact, but more notable still was the fact that something... ghostly was ejected from his body, which slumped to the ground, to all appearances dead.
It looked like a translucent, floating version of how the man had seemed when he transformed, tethered to the physical body by softly-luminous chains. They shuffled and clinked against one another; the apparition looked at Mr. Ramsey as if with new understanding.
“Demon," he breathed.
Stowing the gun, Mr. Ramsey withdrew what looked to be a long knife from somewhere near his belt. With a swift motion, he cleaved through the chains, gathering them up in his free hand. He drew the knife across his own cheek thereafter, thin rivulets of blood dripping from his jaw to the ground.
Charlotte's arm wound around one of Amelia's own. "Don't look directly inside," she said, a warning that at first made no sense at all.
But then Amelia blinked, and suddenly in the spot Mr. Ramsey's blood had fallen, there were a pair of doors, set into an arch. It was black and shiny, like they were made of volcanic glass, wrought iron patterns at the edges evoking bones and dead trees. The doors were flanked by snarling hounds made of granite, their eyes glittering rubies that seemed to almost be on fire from within. Mr. Ramsey said something in a language she'd never heard before, and with a creaking groan, the gates swung inwards.
As if in recognition that the result was inevitable, the shifter stepped into the gates voluntarily. No sooner had all of him disappeared than the chains in Mr. Ramsey's hands faded to wisps and then disappeared. The gates themselves vanished with another mere blink.
"The pugilist suffered a heart attack as a result of consuming too many of the substances his friend offered," he said, no less decisive for his quiet tone. "It was in an induced rage he could not predict that he killed the victim. Everyone involved was entirely human—anything that may be said otherwise by members of the fighting ring was the delirium of too much drink. You will confess to all of this as well." He gave the small man a hard stare when he said it.
"Technically, you did not violate the First Law, but you may no longer count your status as protected. I suggest you find a better use for your alchemy than enhancing fighters to bet on." He pressed his lips together, then shifted his attention to Amelia. "Both the Yard and the victim's family will have their resolution, whatever they may find it to be worth."
Amelia released a breath she did not know she had been holding. This was... all new information for her. She always knew that there was something more to her world, but nothing like this. Demon. Shifter. These were words she'd only heard in congregation and during the times she'd actually attended church with her father. These were things she'd been taught by James when he tutored her, but they were more fairy tale than they were truths being told.
Seeing all of this, knowing what she knew now...
“Uh, Miss Whitaker, you're shaking," it was Jaziri's words that brought her back, and she glanced down at her hands. She was trembling, and the fine tremor through her spine confirmed Mr. Jaziri was correct. She took in a steady breath, and glanced in his direction.
“I'm quite alright, Mr. Jaziri," she replied once she was able to calm her nerves. “There is much I still need to learn," she added, glancing towards Charlotte and Mr. Ramsey.
“Well I'll say this: you've got good aim. If it weren't for your shot, we wouldn't have been able to catch up to him." Amelia inwardly grimaced.
She had been aiming for his shoulder.