Autumn of Terror || h.s. au

Prologue

     "Remind me again why we're travelling all the way to Whitechapel to speak to a detective I've never heard of?" Said Investigator Wesley Roth, who is currently sitting in a carriage alongside Scotland Yard's Inspector Frederick Abberline. Abberline sighed, glancing out the window to view the foggy streets of London.

     "Detective Styles is one of the best, incredibly trustworthy," Abberline responded.

     Roth huffed, "Why is it that I've never heard of him, then? And if he's such an ace detective, why doesn't he work for us?"

     Abberline thought for a moment before answering. "Styles prefers anonymity as well as the freedom to investigate without the limitations of the laws we are bound by."

     The investigators at Scotland Yard were thought of as the men who solved mysteries and persecuted criminals, keeping London safe. This wasn't always the case, however. This one criminal was an enigma, he had rarely ever been seen by anyone other than his victims. It is an especially difficult case because this murderer may even be multiple people committing the same vile act.

     "I could have sworn you've mentioned that he lives in Westminster," Roth pointed out. "So why the hell are we headed into Whitechapel?"

     Abberline wondered why he brought along the only idiotic investigator on his team. "Styles has already started investigating. If you don't remember, the murderer we're looking for has acted only in Whitechapel, as far as we know. This is common knowledge for any detective working on this case, Roth."

     The rest of the journey was spent in silence. Roth looked out the window so he could see the poor streets of Whitechapel. It was a bright day, the light from the sun beaming down upon the puddles of water on the streets left over from this morning's rain. He noticed quite a few groups of street urchins, children dressed in dirty clothes who were running from some gentleman they stole from, no doubt.

     Soon, the carriage stops and the driver opens to door. Abberline steps out first, Roth following.

     "This is the place?" Roth asked, staring at the tall building in front of him. It was one of many on the street and, as it was on nearly every street, the buildings were almost all attached to one another.

     Abberline nodded and stepped up to the door, knocking three times. The door swung open, revealing a young woman, no older than twenty-three. She had fiery red hair and freckles across her face. Her attire was what women usually wore. Her dress was dark green and covered nearly everything, from her neck down to her black shoes.

     "Freddie!" She exclaimed. "Come on in."

     Abberline grinned. "Mary. How are you, darling?" He walked into the house, motioning for Roth to follow him.

     Roth entered the home, not surprised that the inside isn't much nicer than its exterior. As soon as he walked through the door, he found himself in the living room, which consisted of one cloth less table facing him lengthwise and two wooden chairs on the nearest side of the table, with another chair on the other side.

     "Please, have a seat," Mary said. "Terribly sorry for the draft in here but, as you can see, this was the only place we could find in such a short amount of time. We should be getting back to Westminster after the case is closed."

     "I don't mind the draft," Abberline responded, sitting down on the nearest chair while Mary placed a tray of tea on the table. "I love the autumn air. Where's Harry, by the way?"

     "Oh, he's just popped out for a bit," Mary informed him. "He's meeting with Detective Niall Horan, who works for the agency. You remember him, don't you?"

     "Excuse me," Roth interrupted, sitting next to Abberline. "Who exactly are you? We came here to see Detective Styles, and if he isn't here, we might as well be leaving."

     "What?" Mary asked, taking a seat across from the two. "Freddie, you didn't tell him?"

     Abberline chuckled, "I thought it would be comical to see his face when he found out."

     "Found out what?" Roth demanded. "Where is Detective Styles?"

     Mary leans back in her chair and shrugs, grinning. "You're looking at her."

     This confused Roth for a moment, he wasn't sure whether or not he had heard her correctly. "Sorry? Are you suggesting that you are Detective Styles?"

"The one and only," Mary responds with a smirk.

     "A woman?!" Roth exclaimed, staring at Abberline.

     Abberline turned to him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

     Roth's eyes widened. "N-No, of c-course not. But, who is this Harry you speak of then?"

     "He's my assistant," Mary answers. "Well, technically he's my husband."

     "We're going to ask this woman for help when our best men can't solve the case?" Roth asked Abberline, who nods. Then, he turns back to her. "How many cases have you solved?"

     Mary thought for a moment, "This will be my first."

     "F-First?!" Roth incredulously asked. Before he could continue, Mary interrupted him.

     "That's beside the point. Why are you both here?" Mary asked. She knew it was for the mysterious murders around Whitechapel and she was about to start investigating, but she wasn't aware that Scotland Yard would need her help. She was planning on figuring it out on her own.

     "We're here to ask for your help," Abberline leans forward. "We need you to help us find Jack the Ripper."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's the prologue for my new story, I hope you all like it! The story is going to be in Mary's point of view, although this prologue was in third person. There are going to be a lot of books in this series, but most of them will be short cases, so only a couple of them will be actual novel size.

Vote and comment as much as you can if this is the story you want me to continue and I'll have the third one posted by tonight, most likely :)

Love, Tori