The Hunters: Paranormal many shots

History: Top hats and blood spats

London, 1888

Jared sat at a small table at The Ten Bells, sipping a beer. He wore a grey shirt, topped with a black vest and a thick overcoat. A black top hat rested on the table. He looked around at the people occupying the small space. Men dressed in coal smothered clothes, grime and dirt splattered across their faces. Women-street walkers-plying their trade; the oldest known to man, next to killing that is. He had already been approached by some of these women, but he wasn't in Whitechapel for just anyone. Something evil was haunting Whitechapel and it was his job to remove it.

A skinny woman with gaps in her teeth approached and gave him a crooked grin. "Fancy a tumble, love?" She said.

Jared reached into his overcoat and pulled out a bunch of money. He thrust it into her open hand and waved her away.

Her jaw nearly smashed through the floor. "Mister, this will keep me housed for the entire year!" She said.

Jared placed a finger to his lips. "Not the best idea to shout that. You don't want to get robbed, do you?"

The woman clamped her mouth shut and shoved the notes down her dress. "Thank you, Mister. Is there anything I can do to pay you back?" She winked at him and licked her cracked lips.

Jared nodded and leaned in close. "I'm looking for Mary Kelly," He said.

The woman nodded, grinning. Men only asked for Mary Kelly when they wanted one thing. "Miller's Court, love. Ask around there."

Jared winked, finished his beer and placed his hat back on his head. "Thank you kindly, Ma'am, "He said. "You're a great help."

"There are other ways I can help you," She said, giggling.

Jared shook his head, smiling. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm on something of a guy month."

He tipped his hat and strode past her, heavy boots clunking on the wooden floor. The woman smiled then understood what he meant. "If you're after a man why..." She shook her head, not caring enough to finish the sentence. She had enough money for a year.

Outside, Jared placed a pipe to his lips and leaned against the wall. He fished a box of matches from his pocket, struck one and lit the tobacco. He took a deep puff and felt the smoke burn down his throat. A man stepped up beside him, hands in his jacket pocket, face hidden beneath a top hat.

Jared held up his pipe. "You know, I would not be surprised if one day it was discovered that these things are terrible for you."

The man shrugged and held out a small bag. "Did you get an address?" The man asked as Jared took the bag.

"No, but I got an area to ask around. Relax, Paul, we'll find her."

Paul huffed. "I just want to get this over with. I don't like this one, its...unsettling."

Jared shrugged and puffed again. "I'd rather the details weren't as they were, but orders are orders. It's the only way."

Paul shivered and shook his head. Jared turned and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can stay behind if you want."

Paul shook his head and looked Jared in the eyes. "I gave my word I would help you. Let's just get this over with. I need a beer."

****

Milers Court was fairly empty, unsurprising, given the time of night. A few drunks stumbled around, and several street walkers stood on the side walk. Hands on their hips, which they swayed this way and that. One of them noticed the quality of Jared and Pauls' clothing and pointed at them.