Ripper

The town was alive. Both sides of Portside had gathered for important events. The Ripper growled in annoyance. The number of people walking through the streets meant that it was much harder to traverse the darkened alleyways to reach their destination. Many times they had been forced to scramble up the sides of a building and sit upon the roof top like a strange gargoyle while the odd person would glare upwards and wonder why they hadn’t seen one there before.

As the person looked away from the Ripper once more, unaware of just what they had been staring at, the hooded figure leapt. Springing the distance between two buildings, a few tiles cracked under the sudden weight as the hooded being dropped heavily onto the adjacent roof.

The tail end of the cloak flapped behind the figure as they leapt, the wind catching the ends as they barely paused on their landing before taking off once more. Tiles slid from the roofs as the figure ran on by, skidding towards the end before freefalling towards the floor. They broke on contact with the cobble stone streets with great crashes but the Ripper did not pause – did not falter for a second.

Instead when they came to the end of the block of houses, the widened streets leading to the market place causing the chasm between houses to be greater than any human could possibly leap. And if anything the Ripper felt something bubble up within, and they were running faster and faster.

The air which had been whipping at the rapidly moving heel paused. It was like the world had forgotten to breathe as they waited with bated breath. With a small almost inaudible grunt, the Ripper launched themselves from the edge of the building, using a long forgotten weather vane to give them an extra bit of height to propel them across the space.

They flew across the space with such speed, their arms wind milling through the air and their feet kicking in a vain attempted at gaining momentum. And then they started to fall as they got closer and closer to the wall. And yet the Ripper did not panic. Pushing their arms out before them, they latched onto the metal guttering as they crashed into the side of the building and started to fall.

The metal gave a groan under the sudden weight pulling it down. The Ripper’s unrelenting grip on the metal forced it to bend and pull away from the brickwork it was attached to. For a second the Ripper wondered idly if they would fall and would they die dropping from such height before shaking their head,. Everything, despite their strenuous activity, was still hidden beneath the cowl which was fortunate as people had come out of their hoses upon hearing the ruckus outside.

Despite the panicked cries below, the Ripper was calm. The only thing that was overwhelming was the desire to move – to complete the plan they had spent a few days planning after tearing out another heart. Another heart that was too weak, that did not match.

Swinging their legs back and forth to gain momentum, purposely ignoring the warning groans of the guttering, the Ripper managed to launch their self onto the questionable safety of the roof. A few muttered gasps could be heard below before a screaming rent the air.

The guttering, which had barely been hanging on to the building, gave up its fight and fell to the floor. Several onlookers scattered backwards with pounding hearts and pale faces, their gazes immediately going to the roof searching for the poor fellow who had had a lucky escape. But they were gone.

The Ripper was flying now. Time was of utmost importance. The ripper knew that their time was running out. Pumping their limbs faster and faster, they sailed off of the last building in the current terrace. Using their cloak as wings they leapt of the edge. The air billowed out their robes and the Ripper glided through the air at a rapid pace.

A wall zoomed up to meet them, but they kicked their feet out. They paused for a second and then, with a great big kick, they pushed their selves up from the top of the barrier separating the property from the rest of the city and over the blocks of brick and mortar. It did nothing to slow their momentum and before they could get their feet beneath them, the cloaked body tumbled over the wall and into the softness of the grass beyond.

Within a few seconds, like a relentless machine that just kept ticking on, the Ripper was up and running at full speed to the illuminated building ahead that despite the vast amounts of light pouring from its windows was covered in shadows. The ripper almost smiled. Shadows were good.

A man stepped out of one of the door in the lower levels of the house, turning his back towards the Ripper as he picked up a massive metal bucket that was almost half the size of the man. Slowing their pace the Ripper watched with a groan and flexing muscles the man hefted the metal tub off of the floor and headed away from the house.

Noting the open door, the Ripper fled towards the house before the man could return. There was no use in creating more witnesses. Thus with more caution than the killer would normally use, they passed through the house like a shadow – seen only from the corner of the eye but never given full attention. And yet while the Ripper toed through Clancy manor, its eyes would search every nook, dart a glance through every doorway. And they were listening – always listening.

And then, stepping out of a room with a saddened expression upon his features, Mr Clancy stepped from his daughter’s door. Closing the door behind him, he turned and pressed his forehead, breathing in deeply for several seconds.

And then he turned and saw the figure standing at the other end of the hall – and he did not balk. He merely blinked and smiled. The gesture pulled uncomfortably at his face but still he walked through the hall, closing the distance between the unlikely duo until there were barely three feet between them.

“I did wonder when you would come.” Richard Clancy murmured, glancing behind the cloaked figure with a frown. “You didn’t hurt any of them did you.”

The Ripper tilted their head to the side and regarded the man from the shadows of their cowl. When the silence had drawn on too long, they pulled back the cowl to reveal the golden skin and hair below. Then, in a belated answer, the cold hearted figure shook their head back and forth.

“Thank you,” Mr Clancy murmured.

In that instant his entire figure relaxed and he nodded at the Ripper. He had accepted his destiny a long time ago and as certain as he was about the importance of his daughter in the future of the town, was how certain he felt that his time was drawing perilously to a close.

“Where is it?” the silken voice hissed as Mr Clancy stepped forwards so that there was barely a whisper of air between them.

Reaching up a hand he stroked the cool unyielding cheek before him. Sighing softly, Richard shook his head in negative. The Ripper’s head cranked to the side unnaturally before throwing the hand away from their face.

“Where is it?” The voice was desperate now – longing coating every word that passed the killer’s lips.

“Gone.” The Clancy patriarch whispered painfully. “It was destroyed. And I have no way of getting you another one.”

The pitying tone washed over the Ripper causing an unusual sensation to well up within the being. Its hand shot out like it had every time they had killed before. But this time the killer did not tear his heart from the chest. No, the ripper inserted its hand into his chest instead. They watched the older man as his face started to crumple and then like a mere bug under their shoe, the Ripper closed their hand around the frantically beating heart, relishing the feeling of life within the palm of their hands a second before they squeezed. And squeezed. And they squeezed again until the heart burst within their grasp.

For a second the old man opened and closed himself in mute shock before he closed his eyes and smiled. All the tension and lines in his face dropped away as his weight fell ever more upon the hand within his chest.

Seconds passed, with the Ripper staring at the peaceful expression on the dead man’s face. Like a confused puppy, they tilted their head to the side for several long seconds before yanking their hand back. It pulled from the limp man’s body with a loud slurping sound.

Like a puppet with their strings cut, the body tumbled to the floor in an awkward heap, blood rapidly pooling from the large hole in the man’s chest. For a little while the Ripper just watched as the blood spread out from the body, reaching their shoes and continuing onwards.

And then the man’s words, the one’s which had caused the Ripper to prolong his death for a few seconds longer than necessary. It was gone.

The ripper’s head drooped as the consequences hit him. Richard Clancy was the only person who could have helped and now – for the rest of the Ripper’s existence they would have to tear out hearts day after day. It was a pitiful and bloody existence but the Ripper did not want to die.

Growling, the being flicked up their hood so that they would forever be in the darkness. Then with quick and surefooted steps, the Ripper left the manor as quick as they had come, leaving a corpse and bloodied footprints in their wake. Although no one had seen the Ripper, the presence was definitely felt.

A maid came out of one of the hidden passageways humming to her. Her curly hair framed a pretty and delicate face that showed no evidence of the hardships she had seen in life. And yet when her gaze fell upon the body of her employer strewn across the hallway, she let every bad thing that had happened in her short life appear on her features. For two long seconds she paused, and then craning her head back, she screamed and screamed until her throat gaze out. She would not be able to speak nor sleep for many weeks after that.