He was the Ripper. Walking through the streets of London searching for his next victim. He could feel the call of their blood, his aching desire to plunge his knife into their flesh, feeling their hot, sticky blood flowing over his hands and watching their faces as they took their last breath, knowing that they were dying. It was exhilarating. He knew how he must look as he walked through the dark, fog-filled alleyways; his clothes all black, to cover...