Whitechapel

4,406 years since initial death
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What the ripper failed to realize was Valerie's speed.

She was an experienced runner, there was no way she could lose him. It was difficult to make out his appearance, but she could tell he was tall. His dark figure blended in with the night. However, despite how fast she was running, he was somehow faster.

He was well aware she was chasing him, and he began toppling anything to the ground just to slow her down. Whether they were barrels or stacked crates behind a shop, it seemed he became worried she was going to catch him. It was to no avail, she was fixed on his trail. She either ran beside every obstacle or vaulted over them. "Scared of facing a defenseless ol' woman, are you now, huh?!" She shouted after him. Slowly but surely, she was gaining on him.

As she expected, she didn't get a response from him. He could hear her, and a part of his mind had snapped. Every few seconds, he kept turning his head to look back at her. She tried to get a look at his face, but it was far too dark. Surprisingly, his stamina never seemed to drop. His form was flawless, allowing him to sprint further down the alleyway.

Valerie had to catch him. She had been disgusted by his recent murders, and this was her chance to finally put an end to the monster behind them all. Nothing would sway her from catching him. Whether she'll kill him herself or capture him for the authorities to deal with still remains a debate in her mind. But it didn't matter, he has to pay for what he's done.

Therefore, she was going to do whatever it takes to catch him. Rather than following him in a straight line, she started looking towards her right. Just ahead, a few crates were stacked against the back of a shop's wall. Beside them, a horizontal bar extended above as a lantern was suspended from it.

She didn't need to think it over. As the ripper continued running straight, she turned towards the crates. It would take too much time climbing them one by one. Instead, she ran against the side of the wall. Giving herself an added boost, she leaped above the first crate just far enough to catch the second one. Standing atop of it, she wasted no time in continuing her pursuit.

Using the bar in front of her, she grabbed on to it. It was situated next to a wooden platform, allowing her to land onto it and continue to run. London's unique victorian architecture provided her with multiple opportunities to keep her momentum. Finding a second platform the near the rooftops, she made the leap forward and caught it. This wasn't the first time she's had to take drastic measures and scale structures, rather she was used to it.

Once she finally reached the rooftops, she continued the chase above her target. She had almost tripped several times because of her dress, it was slowing her down. But it couldn't stop her, not when she's this close. The ripper turned his head and noticed her on the roof, it took him by surprise.

There was a dead end up ahead, he had to turn. But he knew what would happen if he did so. Valerie had the high ground, she could chase him to the ends of the Earth.

The ripper made up his mind. In that one second, his thoughts shifted. He doesn't plan on being stopped here. Turning to his right, he ran down a path that led back to the open road. Valerie knew this was coming, it was simply inevitable. He's fallen for her trap.

She sprinted alongside the edge of the roof, she was right on top of him. Her left hand reached underneath her dress, grasping a short dagger attached to her undergarments. Now armed with a weapon in hand, she was ready. Without giving it a second thought, she jumped.

Before the ripper could even realize what had happened, he felt himself get tackled violently to the ground. He let out a minor yell in pain. Finally, Valerie could hear him.

His hat rolled away from him, his face was revealed. Not a single second was spared, she slashed her dagger and slit half of his face open. He was scarred, she's permanently left her mark on him. His blood stained the edge of her weapon, and she could hear him scream.

She'll make sure he never screams again.

He turned away and kept his head low as he lunged forward, but not towards her. Instead, he reached for his hat. The moment he grabbed it, he turned back around and shoved the hat's bottom side into her face.

That was when she felt a sense of dread. He was fighting back hard, she's never seen this level of resistance before. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remove his hat from her face as he pushed her against the side of a wall. She tried to stab him by jabbing her dagger, striking him once in the arm. Then, she felt it. The heavy strike of a fist to the side of her head.

She stumbled to her side, just in time to see the ripper turn back around. He quickly wore his hat and ripped the dagger out of his arms. Her weapon fell to the floor, and he dashed towards the road in an effort to escape. Valerie recovered herself and chased after him once more as she regained her dagger. This has to end.

There was a small building ahead. She nearly tripped over herself again trying to chase after him, but she quickly noticed him charging at the front door and bashing through it directly. It was an apartment complex and all the inhabitants were asleep.

She reached the building and followed him through the narrow hallway. There was nowhere for him to go. This was her final chance, she was so close. Her determination to catch him became her weakness, as she failed to notice the ripper ahead of her slow down and turn his head to face her. She caught a glimpse of his darkened eyes, the blood covered eyes of a coldhearted killer.

Before even realizing it, the ripper grabbed the closest door handle and pulled it back. It was unlocked, leading into a small closet. Valerie hadn't slowed down at all, still maintaining her speed. By the time she started to slow down, it was too late. The ripper shoved the door straight into her face. Pulling the door back, he repeated it a second time.

Each time, the door was bashed into her. She desperately tried to stop it and keep herself balanced, but it was far more difficult than she thought. The ripper's strength was overwhelmingly stronger than her's. Finally, she couldn't handle it anymore.

She fell to her back, groaning in pain. It was over, she had failed. A part of her was bracing for the moment the ripper would plunge his knife into her. She had seen the reports of what the past women were subject to, she never wanted to experience that awful pain. Never again.

But it didn't matter regardless. Her vision was fading, she was slowly losing her grip on reality. However, taking one final glance ahead of her, she couldn't see him. The ripper was gone. She was entirely alone.

A few of the apartment's residents came down to check on the commotion and found her on the floor. But she didn't stay to answer their questions. The ripper was out there somewhere, and she had disturbed his work. If his victim's corpse was discovered before he could finish, surely he's left unsatisfied and will want to strike again.

Struggling to walk out the building, she was in no condition to run. She had to walk for Mitre Square. A friend of hers lived there, a young man she had recently started to fall in love with. He could help her track the ripper down and provide support if she needed it. Mitre Square was somewhat close, but given her situation, it would be a very slow and daunting walk.

When she made the lonely and defeated trip back to the Square, she abandoned her plan. Upon her arrival, she discovered signs of death. A second body was found, a few people already surrounded the scene, staring at the mutilated and torn up corpse of another female streetwalker.

This one was far worse, and it seemed she was correct. Jack the Ripper was left unsatisfied, he needed more and he got exactly what he wanted. She couldn't even begin to describe the horrors of the second corpse, but it was enough to make her stumble back in shock and look away.

Two murders, both within an hour of each other. It was horrible, she wanted to go home but a part of her lost a sense of reality altogether. She stumbled out of the area, completely anxious and on edge. By the time she turned around the corner, she spotted a menacing figure slowly walk away from the scene.

His black cloak draped along with the wind. His darkened top hat was straightened. Everything about him looked identical to what she had seen before.

That's when her eyes widened. She found him again.

Nothing stopped her from running one final time. This time, she had him. He had no time to turn his head. She rammed herself into him, toppling him to the ground. His hat fell and rolled away, too far away for him to reach. Valerie wasted no time in forming a fist and bringing it down to his face, then the next with her other hand.

She reached for her dagger and lifted it high up in the air before violently plunging it down. But she never stabbed him. The ripper swiped his hand and stopped her attack, gripping her weapon in place and staring right back at her. That was when she locked eye contact with him. She let out a minor gasp.

It was Michael Smith.

She was entirely stunned, trying to find something to say. But he yelled back at her first. "Get off of me!"

Before she could even move or utter a word, she was wrestled back. Michael gripped her hand as he immediately stood up. Nothing stopped him from punching her directly in the face and shoving her back. During the process, he grasped her dagger and held it defensively.

Valerie caught her breath, pointing a finger at him. "It was you all along."

"Me?" He had no clue what she meant.

"The Ripper!" She was screaming at him, hoping someone could hear her. "The way you spoke about him at the bar, and the fact you coincidentally went missing right when he struck again. You can't hide from this you cold hearted son of a bitch!"

Suddenly, she found herself surveying his appearance. He did look the same, but something was wrong. When she focused on his face, she couldn't see the scar. She had slashed her dagger across half his face. But no matter how hard she looked at Michael, she simply couldn't see it.

It's impossible to hide a wound like that. Yet it clearly wasn't there. Michael looked pristine, and his clothes were clean. If he had killed those women, he'd be covered in blood. At least his clothes should have rips and cuts, but they were perfectly well-kept.

"I don't understand." She spoke, still trying to decipher her mind.

"Neither do I." Michael was speaking the truth. He had no idea what was going on. This whole time he had been casually walking back home. He was humming to himself, making the trip alone somewhat enjoyable. There was nothing wrong with him, no blood, bruises or any other signs of a previous struggle. Even his top hat was perfectly straight.

Valerie lowered her guard. She sighed before looking around her. "I could have sworn it. I was sure of it, you must have done something to cover this up. What happened to the gash on the side of your face?"

The moment she said, Michael placed a hand over his right cheek. Then he switched to his left side. That confirmed everything.

His first instinct was to check the right. She slashed the Ripper's left cheek. Unless he was that much of a genius to hide his tracks well and play dumb, there was no way Michael was the killer all along.

"Is this some some sort of twisted joke?" He became furious at her. "I'm on the hunt for this deranged lunatic, and you think he's me? Well how magnanimous is that? What exactly do I benefit from slaughtering women for no reason, huh? Bitch."

Looking at his face, she couldn't help but feel she's seen him before. But before she could say anything, he tossed her dagger aside and turned around to walk off. He was clearly frustrated, and it was best to leave him be.

Michael would learn what happened later that same day. Two more murders, and he was none the wiser. The victims of the double murder case were Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes, both of whom were prostitutes. What baffled officers the most was that Catherine's ear was clipped off and is missing from the scene, just as the previous letter stated.

Michael was extremely disappointed. Two murders all in one night, and he couldn't stop it. No, he chose to get drunk instead on the one night it actually mattered. That's what angered him. This had to end, but he's already begun to doubt himself. How can he catch an elusive killer if all he does is drink and make a fool of himself?

Over a month later, the fifth and final murder occurred. The death of Mary Jane Kelly, dismembered and butchered beyond anything the police had ever seen before. The mystery of Jack the Ripper remained a puzzle, one that nobody could solve. They never even knew what the motives behind his murders were.

But from the shadows, only one man knew who he was.

Michael was determined to unveil him. Enough has finally been had. Everyone has failed in their search for the ripper, but he will find a way to succeed. The case was coming to an end, and it finally reached its climax. Jack the Ripper's character cannot remain discreet forever.

The following event will finally reveal his true and exact identity, once and for all.

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Historical Notes:

Elizabeth Stride was seen as a quiet lady who occasionally performed cleaning duties for the local Jewish community. She was paid for cleaning rooms at her lodging-house, in which her income was just enough to pay for more nights and allow her to stroll around at night.

A day before her murder, she was seen accompanied by several different men throughout the night. One of which shared an intense kiss with her, saying "You would say anything but your prayers."

The next day, minutes before her murder, she was seen with another man wearing a long black coat. Her final words spoken were, "No. Not tonight. Some other night."

Not even ten minutes after this occurred, she was found dead. A civilian witnessed the murder and claimed the killer to have dark hair and a mustache. Stride was 44 years old at the time of her death.

Elizabeth Stride and the location of her death

Catherine Eddowes was attempting to travel to Bermondsey in hopes of borrowing money from her daughter. However, she was found lying drunk on the pavement outside when she was taken into police custody. Worried for her safety, the police kept her at the station until she was sober enough to handle herself.

When asked for her name, she replied with 'Nothing'. Once she became sober, she was asked the question again. Instead of giving her real name, she said her name was Mary Ann Kelly.

Fifteen minutes before her death, she was last seen alive standing with a man that appeared to be in his early thirties. Along with his dark-colored clothing, he had a 'reddish' neckerchief.

Catherine Eddowes was 46 years old at the time of her death.

Illustrated portrait of Catherine Eddowes

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