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From the Desk of Mordecai Crossbell

I have always prided myself of being the master of control. From a young age I had learned that control can come in many forms and bring about many things, including blame. Being in control was not always the ideal position to be in, but sometimes you had to stand back and let the fool play their part. Only when they had stumbled in the eyes of peers and society would I dare to swoop in and right the obvious errors.

I like control. Unfortunately there are times when control slips my fingers and I must react rather than be proactive. James slipping his chains and getting out was an unforeseen incident and a mistake on my part. The fool, the idiot, the specimen, had gone and fled before I had my fill of his company and refined techniques suitable for my new mantle. I had been angry when it had happened, angry at myself for being careless not once but twice in one evening. Not only had James escaped and got himself killed, but someone had seen me commit the very act that propelled James off this mortal coil.

At first I gave chase, clad in my gauntlet and mask, but when I realized running through the poor streets of London without a stitch of clothing was too much of a risk. Caracals were not terribly common in the city, and thus I had withdrawn. Yet fortune favours me even when I lapse from perfection. On my way back to my laboratory, I found a cleaning instrument. A brush. A chimney brush.

In my lab, I began to piece things together. The person in question who had seen me was, by all measure of probability, a chimney sweep boy. They were common in this area and since this was the poorer side of London their flash homes were everywhere, like little dirty bunkers full of the urchins. They did serve a purpose in the city but I had never so much as interacted with one of them. Even when services were rendered, I had someone else manage the payment and the schedule. To put it bluntly, they are beneath me.

To further narrow down the list of subjects, I closed my eyes and remembered what I had seen. Black and grey fur. Pointy ears. A wolf? Or a jackal? I failed to see the tail so I was unsure, but it may have even been a fox.

Very well, some kind of canid chimney sweep had seen the murder. Someone relatively local to my laboratory since it was late into the night -- the boy would have been a few miles from his home. I would have to see where they were located within five and ten miles of this place. It should not be hard.

Still, this was simply probability, not definitive. This was an educated guesswork at its best and jumping to conclusions at its worst. There was no evidence that the brush belonged to this witness, nor was there any indication I had seen the right fur color. There was a chance it was a cat, an older man, various other possibilities that frustrated me. I dared not go back out and look around for more clues -- I doubt there would be any and someone will find James. I do not want to be anywhere near the cadaver when the police are summoned.

I threw myself into my work. I had gone over my father's journal more, devouring it with a passion and cracking more of his ciphered pages. Once I had learned that this mantle, this Spring Heeled Jack, was a family tradition going back to my great-great-grandfather, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to embrace this side of me and my heritage. But I needed to do it with the zeal and cunning that was a Crossbell.

The first order of business was my outfit. The mask and gauntlet were perfect, but if I was going to go out into the night I needed something more. Sketching had always been a hobby of mine, and after several attempts at something that would be gallant while also functional, I set to the task of writing down what I needed on various letters.

I did not go out on my own to make these purchases, and I did not return home just yet. Instead, I sealed the letters in envelopes with coins and slipped them through a small compartment slat on the side of the wall. A lift of a lever and they would tumble into a hidden box on the far side of the laboratory near an alley. I had one of my associates hire young couriers to come by at various times of the day to check the box. Usually it was empty, but today they would have work to do. These couriers were willing to do my bidding for a little coin and everything innocent.

The letters were sent to various clothiers over London. In them were what I requested, heavy trousers, a fitted silk shirt, a black silk vest and tie, gloves, a heavy coat to match the trousers made of leather (like the trousers) and a black cloak with a crimson inner lining. Oh, yes, and a new top hat.

The instructions were clear: get these items made to my measurements, have them bundled up and secure and leave them in the drop box near the lab. Some would come earlier than others, but I waited. Every time something was slid into the hidden compartment it bumped a hidden bell for me to retrieve.

Notifications to the outfit were minimal, a hidden pocket here and there, mostly for emergencies. I knew that even embracing the character of Spring Heeled Jack I was at risk of being hurt. I needed to be prepared for everything, lest I have another mistake like my poor James and the Witness.

My first night as Spring Heeled Jack could not have been more thrilling, so wonderful, that I could finally be what I want to be, here in the city that had given me so much but had also held me back for so long. I enjoyed feeling powerful and looking down at the masses from rooftops and I knew that this was what I was truly meant to be. Not a lord or a businessman, but a God above them.

I must have been quite the sight, if I had dared let anyone see me. A tall man in a black and leather suit, accented with crimson on the neck and cloak, but also the eyes shining like blazing hellfire. I looked like a noble from a nightmare, and I was fine with that. The few reports I had read on my ancestors told me that we always remained well-groomed and dressed even when we donned such costumes.

My addition to the outfit was the changes to the clawed gauntlet. It had been an antique, something from Persia, and it was also at risk of causing more trouble than it was worth. I had decided to modify it for my own safety and look of elegance. Where the original had its long, razor sharp claws extended at all times, I had removed them from their holders and applied sliding mechanisms to each finger. When retracted only the tips would be exposed and while dangerous would not cut as easily while also returning the use of my hand should I need to grip something. The magic of the gauntlet was the release mechanism. If I spread my fingers wide the release lever would spread and the claws just out to their original, deadly length. If I splayed my hand and tilted it backwards they would retract.

It was almost perfect. Just some minor adjustments and it would be like wearing a fine glove.

---

I began to hunt for my Witness. I knew it was almost hopeless at this time, but I needed London to know that Jack had returned and the Witness should be wary. I wanted him to be scared. The scared made mistakes, the scared were flawed. If I could scare him out of hiding and into the open somehow...

My first victim had been a grey wolf cub. I had seen him climbing down from a high chimney and ran at him along the rooftops without meeting a beat. I knew he was not my Witness, the look he gave me was one of confusion mixed with terror. The Witness would not be so base. Claws extended and slashed and the chimney sweep was sliced groin to throat. I let him breathe just enough to see my mask before shoving him off the roof to the ground below. I heard a yell of some woman and grinned. This was fun.

The night was always tempting to hunt and kill, but as I said before, my dear prisoner, I needed people to start talking about Jack. I killed two more chimney sweeps that night. One I had beaten to death with my cane, the other I had sliced and let bleed down the chimney opening he had just finished working on.

I had also gone out of my way to scare plenty of people. I enjoyed stepping out of the shadows and fog, cloak pulled around me and head down, stopping in front of well-to-do women and lifting my gaze onto to terrify them with my glowing eyes of fear and damnation. I slashed at some, cutting arms and legs, ruining fine dresses and drawing blood. With some I gave chase, cornering and laughing. Whenever a good Samaritan decided to come running I let them see my face and then jumped with all the height and grace given to me by my lineage, and was gone along the rooftops.

These were my evenings. A few murders, mostly scares. I had to spread out the deaths since if I got too cavalier with my desires I would likely draw in the crown. I trusted my abilities but I would much rather work with only the police to contend with.

The one aspect I did not expect was the street gangs. These urchins were by no means a threat to me, but they certainly were not as afraid of me as I would have liked. Several times they had rushed me while I scared some poor person, one had even managed to slug me right in the chest. I made it a new rule that any of these street boy gang members who dared to lift a finger toward me would end up dead.

I killed two that evening; slicing one across the face so deep you could see brain matter. The other I had stabbed forty times with my claws and let him bleed out while leaning against a lamppost. That should be a pleasant message to the gangs. Leave Spring Heeled Jack alone to his tasks, or die.

---

After a few days of pure pleasure, I needed to find my Witness. I also missed James -- he was entertaining company. I decided then that I needed another to take his place, and so I went in the direction I was certain my Witness had fled.

I stuck to the shadows and peered down the roads. At first I was disappointed; this area of the city seemed to be slightly nicer than the other slums and the chimney sweeps all seemed to remain in doors after dark. It would be difficult to snatch one and ask them questions if I had to do it in daylight.

It was two nights later that fortune once again smiled on Mordecai Crossbell. I watched from a perch as a small wolf walked down the road in the darkening hours of the evening. It was when you were supposed to start getting ready for bed, but wandering the streets of London. I knew I had my target.

The boy had no idea what struck him when I leaped down, grabbed him, and jumped into a dark alley without so much as a few seconds lost. I held one arm around his neck and the other his muzzle, holding him tight and to my chest until he passed out from lack of air. Out cold now, I went back to my laboratory.

The boy was light as a feather and made sticking to the rooftops easy. Slipping in through the secured and hidden doorway, using the combination lock and key, and I was inside my new sanctum. I worked quickly at securing my new plaything -- a metal collar with a chain secured to his neck. His wrists and ankles were also connected to the previous chains that James had been in (though I did have to swap out the manacles for smaller sizes), and let the boy lay on the floor to wake up when he would. I poured myself some wine and sat in my chair, watching him sleep.

I wondered if this was my Witness. It was a possibility. A wolf and the right fur coloring, about the same size... although he did seem to be rather small for his species. Something told me that he was not the boy I was hunting, but I also felt close.

Maybe this whelp would prove to be the key to getting my hands on him. If not, I would have my fun and be done with him. I had no intention of keeping him like I had James. James was educated and well-built -- a man who could hold a conversation with me. This boy probably could not even spell. No, he would be nothing more than a thing.

---

I waited for the boy to awaken, which thankfully did not take long. The first thing he would see was my masked face, the grinning and demonic mask of my family, the sharp teeth and the glowing eyes. I grinned behind it as the wolf first looked confused, then terrified. He tried to run but the chains held him steady.

Without a word of sound I quickly grabbed a knife and went up to the boy. A backhand to his muzzle shut him up, and a slice of the blade rendered his clothing to ribbons. I ripped them violently off the whelp, leaving him chained and hanging there naked. I had made sure the blade left a cut along his chest for good measure. A bit of pain was always a good motivator.

When he started to scream again I hit him -- first a blow to the stomach, then again to the side of his muzzle hard enough to draw blood. When he stopped making incoherent noises I nodded and cracked my knuckles.

This was a moment I had been debating. Do I reveal my face to this plaything, or do I keep it on? The mask would inspire terror but it was just a façade to hide who I really was. No, I wanted this boy to fear me and not the legend. I reached up and pulled off my mask.

I watched the wolf blink up at me, confused. Of course his confusion was understandable. A handsome man stood before him, not a monster. I smiled and put my mask down and unhooked the gauntlet I wore, dropping it to the table next to the mask. I sighed a little bit and walked back to stand in front of him.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked calmly, loosening my tie ever so casually.

"S-Spring Heeled Jack, sir," he said with a slight stutter. Good, he was still afraid even without my mask on. I smiled and stroked him between his ears. The flinch was strong. Also good.

"Astute but not quite correct, boy, but for now it will suffice. You will address me as Sir at all times. Failure to comply is not in your best interest. What is your name?"

"A... Avery, sir," he said, trembling.

"Avery," I said, rolling the simple name along my tongue like a sweet. I smiled and bent down, looking the boy in the eye. "This is the first time you've seen me, is it not, Avery?"

"Y... Yes sir."

"You know lying to me would be dangerous, Avery. I know you climb into chimneys for your meager living but I assure you that your life walks along the edge of a blade. You stray even the slightest from my approval and you will find yourself hanging from the very chimneys you service."

"I ain't lying!" he said, trembling. I had to step back a bit. If he became hysterical we could not talk. I sighed and walked over to my chair and sat down in it, looking the prize over like I had just purchased a new horse for travel.

"I believe you," I said calmly, folding my hands in my lap and crossing my knee over the other. "And I trust you will be an honest boy. Continue to be honest with me and you shall remain alive."

Avery just stared, eyes wide. He was trying to pull a knee up to hide his nakedness. I saw and frowned a little bit. "You have no use for clothing at this time, boy. Get used to being naked as it is now the level of dress you will be in at all times, lest I want you made up in something that would amuse my senses."

In a flash I was at him, my hand going around the throat, fingers digging in until I felt his windpipe between index finger and thumb. I lifted him up a bit. "You forgot my first rule, Avery." I dropped him, but then slashed down across his face with a hand. In one quick motion I had ruined one of his eyes. The screams were loud and guttural.

Sighing again, I went about undressing from my costume and into something more proper to work. Physician's clothing did not suit me much, but with all this blood, it was better than getting it on my fur or my fineries. With ease, I dragged the boy over to my table and shoved him onto it. I grinned and looked down at the boy who held his eye socket, looking up at me with abject fear.

"Relax," I said, grinning. "That was a lesson. I shall not let you die just yet."

And then I went to work keeping him alive. It was easy work, first securing him, then giving him an injection to calm him down... then I went about removing the damaged tissue. It took a short amount of time and I was pleased with the work. I did not do anything for the pain. When he was laying there panting on my table I shoved him off, pulling my gloves off with a flick of a wrist and a sneer.

"You're a doctor?" Avery said, sitting on the ground, one hand gently holding the side of his face I had mutilated. "Sir," he added quickly once my eyes turned to him.

"No," I said truthfully, pulling off the surgery clothes and standing there in naught but my fur. "In another lifetime I had dreamed of being a doctor, but fate can be cruel to even men like me, cub." I sat down in my chair and sighed, crossing my legs once more.

"Avery, you strike me as a smart boy. I mean you probably cannot read, but you are not dumb enough to continue to upset me, and you know now how easy it is to get under my skin and what I am willing to do in terms of punishment." My seat cracked a little as I sat back. "But you will find me to be most amicable if I am pleased."

I reached over to the small bowl on the end table next to my chair, lobbing the apple at the boy. I grinned when he tried to catch it but it smacked him in the face. "Ah, you have lost your depth perception. You may have some adjustments to make. But now I want to know all about you, Avery."

Remarkably it did not take much to get the boy to talk. I think he was just exhausted from the blood loss and fear, he told me everything I wanted to know about him and I genuinely believed him, even if I pretended to be upset and pressed him about certain issues.

The first thing I learned was that he had never seen me before, and that he thought his friends, who all said they had seen me at one time or another, were just seeing things. When asked about their names he gave me three: Robert, Gerald, and Sam. Sam, not Samuel. That made me believe him. A liar would have used the long form as they were thinking about names that fit. Sammy would have also been a dead giveaway he was lying, so either this cub was a better liar than I gave him credit for, or he was telling the truth.

Further, he said he worked for Duncan, a rather ornery badger who was known even in my circle to be particularly loud and cruel. There was a de facto unspoken rule to not use his services as he was liable to underperform and oversell.

Avery told me he had gone looking for his friend, Sam, who had been thrown outside when he made Duncan mad. That was when I found the wolf cub and took him here. When pressed for more information about what his friends had told him about Spring Heeled Jack, he had told me mostly the stories everyone knew. That he was a clawed demon who jumped high and ran along rooftops. There was no evidence that one of his friends had seen me -- I had been looking for the information about James's murder or the fact that I was naked when it happened. Was this a dead end?

The next few days, I enjoyed Avery however I wanted. I enjoyed watching him not knowing what to expect. Sometimes, I was kind and gentle. Other times, ruthlessly violent and angry. Not that I actually was, but I wanted him to not know what to expect. His emotional state was incredibly easy to manipulate and his body pliable to my desires.

Avery also served as a test subject for a few inventive applications to my medical background. Oh, I had done nothing too bad to the boy, but I tested how some chemicals, once injected into the blood, could affect the cub. I knew I had to be most careful with these experiments, and I was certain I was on the right track to finding the right chemical for... a particular project, but alas nothing yet.

By the time I had to return to society, Avery was still alive, though with some blood loss and absent his claws. I had also gone about amputating his tail. It had gotten in the way far too much. Thankfully, the boy was healing quicker than I had expected. While I dressed myself for the party, he had lost consciousness in his corner. Now that he was fed, watered, and chained up, I was confident he would still be there when I returned. I left the laboratory with a spring in my step and a click of the heavy locks. The mistake with James would not happen again.

---

Ever since my foray into the macabre, I had found my regular life to be one of mundane dullardity. Before I had always found it mildly annoying, at times frustrating, but now... I could not stand it. I wanted to be outside or with my pet. Not here, playing the handsome caracal and laughing at jokes no one actually found amusing.

It was a party at the University. One of the professors had won some awards and I had been invited since I was an alumnus. I usually was invited to these events and found myself wishing I was not during each one. Full of boring speeches with dry small talk worse than cheap wine. The people here were always a mix of the kind that floated in my circle; the educated and rich but also the types so absorbed in their work that class and decorum were not nearly as important; that their obliviousness and their education provided enough of a social shield that any eccentricity would be simply labeled as harmless. In many ways, these learned men of the robe were able to do more in polite society than even the richest among us. Where a gaffe made by myself would be treated as scandalous, one of these jovial professors it would be seen as charming, if not delightful.

I had found the offering of food in the corner and realized just how hungry I had become. When was the last time I had eaten? It must have been yesterday. I generally did not skip a meal, but with my new pet I must have lost track of the time. No matter, I would partake of the host's fine offering and not worry too much about decorum. I was still young and could get away with the slightest misstep -- such as eating too much.

I had just picked up another glass of wine when I saw a somewhat familiar raccoon start to make his way toward me. It took me only moments to remember he was Professor Bensley of this very institution. A professor of antiquities and literature. A learned man if there ever was one, but also part of the annoying rabble that rolled around in their eccentricities to do the positions they held injustice. Men like him set my teeth on edge, not because of what they did but because they knew neither the kind of world in which they belonged nor their place. I felt the hand flex the same way it did when I wore my gauntlet.

However, before the professor could see my scowl I pushed that darkness aside and smiled with the finery and charm of my position. I perked my ears and widened my eyes a little as if I had not seen him coming. "Professor Bensley, it has been too long, sir," said I as I held out my hand to shake.

The professor, dressed in a well-fitting suit and old fashioned bowtie, took my hand with gusto. He grinned from ear to ear. "Lord Crossbell, it has been ages. I do miss our debates in my class room. How has the world been treating you, sir?"

"Ever since Father's passing, there have been a bit of growing pains," I said with a wry grin. "But just because one stumbles out of the starting gate does not mean he cannot still win the race. I've learned a lot in my time as head of the Crossbell empire."

"Oho!" the raccoon said with that pleased grin across his wide face. "I knew you were gifted, my boy. Ever since you argued with me about the philosophy of the ancient Greek city-state's opinion on coupling, I knew you would be one to buck tradition; students like you come along very rarely in one's career. I was saddened to learn that you decided to take a more scientific direction in your education rather than historical."

I made sure to frown a little bit and tilt my ears back ever so slightly in supplication. I even bowed my head a little. "My apologies, professor. Disappointing you was never my intention and I hope my success in the medical and chemistry fields has at least earned me a passing grace period in your company, sir. Had I the time and the energy of three men, I would have stayed in your class endlessly."

Bensley frowned and waved a hand at me dismissively. "Do not worry about such things, my boy. Education and learning are all about what inspires you! You found your calling and your desire in the sciences, and for that I would be a horrible educator if I had tried to stand in your way. Just because I don't see the appeal doesn't mean I can't respect a fellow man's position, oho."

I smiled warmly and took a sip of my wine. "Once again, professor, your kindness and capacity for forgiveness is only dwarfed by your intellect. Patience is a virtue you extol without any effort, sir."

"Such a flatter, Mordecai," he said. My jaw tensed. Using my first name when we were still playing the pleasantries?! _Had this oaf any idea what decorum and etiquette was required of him?! _ Father would have gone the passive aggressive route and reminded this educated buffoon that while he was in a position of power he was still in the company of his betters.

With a slow exhale, I let the negative energy out. I had no need to embarrass my old professor. I could have. Many would have in my position, but finding the right time to remind your rivals about where they stood was surgical and precise. Something in the back of my mind told me that this was not such a time. I smiled politely and bowed my head forward, sipping more of my wine.

"Lord Crossbell," Bensley said, clearing his throat. "I was wondering if I may call upon your talents for a small project I am involved in. And your discretion?"

Curious, I perked my ears up and tilted my head to the side. "I am most intrigued, sir, for you to call on someone like me, but I cannot promise my cooperation until I know what is asked of me."

Bensley smiled and walked me more toward the wall, keeping his voice down. "Have you been reading the news about Spring Heeled Jack?"

I laughed. A genuine laugh. Had my antics permeated even this level of society? I quickly nodded. "Rumors and stories, professor. 'Tis an old legend, back from when my grandfather was young, I believe. Someone is slicing up people in London, and everyone thinks Spring Heeled Jack has returned from Hell, or something like that."

"Since you know so much already, I won't have to explain the legend. I am looking into it myself. I am certain it is nothing, but it is a curious endeavor and has kept me entertained while I wait for my offices to be renovated. I've come to know two people who say they have seen Spring Heeled Jack -- one from years ago, and the other from just a short while prior."

"Those rumors are all over London. Any dark shadow looming from the darkened corners of the streets is this Jack fellow."

"Normally I would agree, but in this instance the witness I know said he saw Spring Heeled Jack murder a tiger fellow... and that Jack himself was... shall we say, wearing little to the affair." Bensley cleared his throat and sipped his own wine.

It took everything I had to not grab the raccoon and interrogate him right then and there. There had been only one witness, MY Witness, the night I killed James. The fact this... this... street urchin was going around telling people he had seen me naked set my anger alight again. I had assumed he'd be too scared to mention anything so ridiculous, yet here we were. I covered my anger with a cough and a quirk of my brow. "You mean he was... in the nude? That is a different twist to the stories being printed, Professor."

"Exactly!" Bensley said again, grinning. "And now we are the reason for my favour. I know you are skilled with charcoal and pencil. Your talents are never limited to just one or two things, and I was wondering if you would like to meet these witnesses and draw what they tell you. I want to see if they are the same creature of the night. I would ask one of the artist professors here on campus but they are more likely to say no and then talk about it in educated circles. I would much rather have my position secured from ridicule if it turns out to be nothing."

I made a show of it by thinking. "Well, I do like to draw. But you could find skilled artists with talent greater than my own..." said I with a frown, but then a smile widening from ear to ear. "But how could I refuse a request from my old professor? I would be delighted to assist you, sir."

"Excellent!" he said, clapping his hands together once and rubbing them together. "Meet me at my home the day after tomorrow. I will have them come by and sit while you draw. Shall we say... three o'clock?"

"I will be there, professor." I said with a grin wider than I meant to show. "Tell me, what are the witnesses' names?"

"Oh, one is a street ruffian, I forget his name. The other is a chimney sweep... A boy named Simon. Smart, that one. He may even make me look foolish one day."

My Witness, your name is so charming. Simon. Sure, it could have been the other boy, but no, I knew in my heart it was this Simon. Now to let him know I was close.

---

The trip to my laboratory was the longest carriage ride in my life. The roundabout way I had to follow to make sure no one followed me was also driving me mad, but I knew I could not lose my senses in this moment of excitement. I fumbled with the key to the lab and threw the door open, slamming it shut with a click. I grinned at Avery, who looked exhausted and confused all at once.

"Avery," I said as I went to the pulley systems and began to pull on the chains, forcing the boy onto his feet with his arms above his head. I locked the crank into place and then began to undo my clothes. "I have had the most wonderful night. Fortune smiles on the Crossbell line once again. Do you know what I found out?"

Avery hung his head and shook it. "No, sir. I do not."

"I found out about Simon."

My suspicions were correct when Avery's head snapped up quickly and looked at me with one good eye. "Simon...?! I -- I mean..."

"Liar, liar," I said as I quickly stripped myself naked. I was hard as stone and I did not care. I grinned and cupped the boy's cheek with my hand, kissing him on his brow. "I told you, Avery, I did not tolerate liars. You switched his name with one of the others you gave me the first night I brought you here. I am guessing Samuel."

"I... I..." Avery stuttered, trying to talk. I growled and squeezed his jaw. I kept squeezing until I heard something snap in the boy's head. Screaming followed and I let the wolf's head go.

"It's alright, Avery," said I as I went to where my gauntlet rested, picking it up and sliding it on. I flexed my fingers and the claws extended. "You were very fun."

The next hour was a blur of bloodlust, carnal energy, and frenetic carnage. I enjoyed myself so much. I did not hold back as I sliced Avery, cut him, stabbed him, opened him (I would later sew him back up for transport). And I enjoyed every moment of it. I kept him alive as long as I could, but when I heard him choke out his last breath I sliced his throat open from ear to ear.

I stood there, panting, covered in sweat and blood, grinning... Oh so happily grinning. If I could keep this wolf cub alive that long, imagine what I could do to this Simon. Ideas began to swirl in my head as I went about cleaning up and wrapping up the corpse. I had a chimney to display him on. After all, I needed Simon to know I was so close I could breathe down his neck.

See you soon, Simon...