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+--- Thread: The White-Chapel Murderer: Revelations (/showthread.php?tid=12809)
The White-Chapel Murderer: Revelations - Frðst - 06-09-2014
The skies are a dark shade of gray with traces of black. A storm is coming into the White Chapel district of London. The city is at its normal pace. Vehicles crowd the roads, bodies crowding the sidewalks. Everyone is going on with the usual life they all know. Everyone except for a family and group of friends that are sitting and standing on a hill of green. The hill is covered with rocks. Stones that protrude up from the ground, pointing to the sky. These stones give people with the interest of reading them, the timeline of an individual from the day they first took a breath, to the day their heart ceased beating. The group are gathered around a hole that has been fabricated in the soil. A box hovers over the hollow space, held by a lowering mechanism of nylon straps and metal. The congregation are celebrating the life of a young woman. A young woman, whose time on this earth, was taken from her, out of malice and evil. It was time to lay her to rest. The priest said a few words and then called for another young woman to come to the podium to speak. She wipes her eyes with a tissue, trying to fight back the tears.
Young woman: Thank you Father McCreedy... Hello.. My name is Meredith. For those that don't know me, I am Sarah's sister. If anybody knew her better than anybody else, it was me. She was my best friend. Everything we learned about life, we learned together. She was the sweetest person, I have ever known and I doubt I will ever meet anyone every again, that was as wonderful as my sister was. She had just started her residency at the Royal London Hospital. She had just found her a new apartment near there. She was an amazing doctor. She was my hero.. Selfless and giving, she was hands down the most amazing person in the world. I will never stop missing her, I will never stop loving her and I pray that justice comes to whoever, took such a precious gift away from this world. Thank you very much.
Meredith, walked by the casket, dropping a white rose on the lid. She returned to her seat, beside her mother and father. The priest returned to the podium. He explains to the crowd, that the service was concluded and he appreciated everyone for coming to the celebration of Sarah's life. All of her friends and family, stood from their seats and conversed among themselves. Some people left the grave site, while others stayed to speak to the family and sister. Giving there condolences and visions of hope. Everyone Sarah ever held dear was in attendance. Even some one she wouldn't hold so dear... her killer.
Hours later, at St. Mary Matfelon Cathedral, the priest is sitting in his office, that connects to his apartment inside the church. He is writing down something on a piece of paper, skimming through the Bible. Preparing for a sermon it seems as he wrote down a few lines, and would repeat them out loud to himself. Suddenly Father McCreedy, looks towards a closet in the rectory. He stands from his chair, walking slowly towards it. Opening the doors upon arrival, it seems like a normal closet, with clothes hanging from the center, shoes in the floor in pairs. He spreads the clothes apart, as the hangers slide on the bar that split the middle of it. A safe has been installed into the wall. The priest, turns the dial to the right, stops, turns the dial back to the left, stops, then repeats the turn to the right, arriving at a certain number, as the safe pops open. He pulls a couple of items from the safe, but it is not clear as to what it is. He closes the safe, spinning the dial quickly to reset the locking mechanism. Father McCreedy, bends down to the floor, moving some clothing to the left, as a small refrigerator is seen. Upon opening the door, a few packages, tightly wrapped in cellophane can be seen on the racks inside. He removes a package, putting it close to his face. He protrudes his tongue from his mouth, licking the package from the bottom to the top, before placing it back into the ice box. The priest stands, and turns back to direction of his desk, and it is now seen that a leather apron is folded neatly in his hands, and a highly precise blade, lays across the apron. He fixates his eyes towards his desk, only to see Frost sitting in his desk chair, with his feet propped onto the solid oak davenport. Frost was dressed in a gucci suit. Black with a light blue tie. The light from the desk, glared off the shiny toes of his shoes.
Father McCreedy: Who are you?
Frost: I am your omega, dear Priest. I am your desistance. I am your end. Your reign has gone on, long enough. The madness you have persevered through this city, has taken the lives of many innocent women. You have maintained a rather impressive anonymousness. Your existence, is well known by multitudes of people, though your identity has never come to light. I do not know if you ever wanted it to be revealed, but now you are left with out a choice. My objective is to remove you from this path of malice. But I will not be giving you therapy for your extant illness. I will be dismissing you from your charge, by execution. Your disposal, will mean a great deal to this city. Though that is not the reason I must dethrone you. The lives you have taken are no matter to me, people must die. You have shown an evil that can not continue to exist in this reality. Your soul must be banished, so you may take your rightful place, in the underworld. This false life you portray as a man of God, has been the perfect disguise for your campaign. No one would suspect the priest of murdering anyone. It just surprises me, that you truthfully an ordained minister and were one before you began this expedition. Now, if you would father... prepare yourself for eternal damnation.
The priest just stared at Frost. The icey blue stare pierced directly through McCreedy. The priest, dropped the items that were in his arms and ran for the door, exiting the rectory. He ran as fast as he could, heading towards the front entrance of the cathedral. Locked from the outside. How could this be? He turned his sights towards the back exit, pushing forward as hard as he could muster, only to find that this doorway was also shut and unable to be opened. The priest was prepared for a situation such as this. He wasn't prepared for a man like Frost to come to assassinate him, but he was ready for the possibility of the authorities coming in on him. He headed towards the bell tower. Upon reaching the belfry he opened a door to the outside world. He reached down grabbing the arrester system from the floor, and attached it to a zip line that sent him towards a back alley behind the cathedral. He sped down the "death slide", his get away just a few feet away when a tire iron, spinning violently through the air collided with his skull, causing him to release his grip, he fell a twelve feet to the asphalt below, rendering him unconscious.
The faint sounds of metal, scraping against metal is heard. A squeaking cry, exclaimed by an iron chain that is attached to an eye hook on the ceiling. The room is dark and damp. The cold is uncomfortable and frightening. But as his eyes begin to open, the priests vision is initially blurry. He notices that he is upside down, and bound by a heavy rope that is wrapped and tied around his legs. His clothes have been removed, his being left in nothing but his pants. A mechanical hook is holding the rope, and that hook is attached to the eerie sounding chain. He can see with the small amount of light that comes from the lunette window in the roof, a table. On the table are various blades and saws. The priest is hyper ventilating, fear envelopes his body, as a cold sweat rolls from his pours. Suddenly, foot steps are heard from behind him. With each connection of the sole to the concrete floor, a chill rages up the spine of McCreedy. Frost walks past the priest, stopping at the table with his back to the hanging murderer. Frost removes his jacket, folding it and laying it across a bare spot of the table top. He unbuttons the connections at the cuff of each sleeve, rolling the sleeves up onto his forearms.
Frost: As I was saying, before you were overcome with anxiety, which is completely understandable, I am your omega. I want to give you a chance to redeem yourself. It usually is not like me to be so generous to those I will inevitably exterminate, but on this rare occasion, I believe you should at least try to make amends for your actions.
Father McCreedy: And... and... how do you... how do you suppose I accomplish this.... what can I do, to save myself? I will do anything sir.. Whatever you need me to do, I will do it. I'm sorry for what I did, I swear, I will never do it again... Send me to Scotland Yard, I want to turn myself in.
Frost: I can see the despair in your eyes Father.. The cold sweat running down your face and body, the dread that is obvious through the sound of your voice. Is this how those women may have felt when you had your blade against their throats? I would have to say, from personal experience, the phobia would be a direct copy of the nightmare that is inhabiting you right now. Unfortunately, I can not release you until you have done something for me.
Father McCreedy: Anything.. I'll do anything sir... anything you want me to do...
Frost: Please.. your voice is starting to irritate me. Just do not speak until I have given you authorization to do so. Because that is all I want you to do. I want you to tell me the names of each of the women you murdered. The name of each woman, you sliced open and removed organs from.
The priest was silent. Frost grabbed a folder from under the table, and pulled out a picture of a young lady and held it in front of McCreedys face.
Frost: Tell me her name...
Father McCreedy: Laura... Laura Hayward.
Frost dropped the photo of Laura to the ground, pulling another one from the folder and placing it in front of the priests vision.
Frost: Who is she?
Father McCreedy: Taylor Smi.... Taylor Smith...
Frost: Very good...
Frost continued this cycle, dropping photos of victims to the ground, pulling another from the folder, until he came to Sarah, the last victim. Frost stared at the photo, tilting his head to the side.
Frost: A pity.. such a waste of a life Father. This young woman was a doctor. Saving lives and making this horrible world a better place for people like you. But you take that for granted, as many of the population does. Not only that, you took it upon yourself to take her away from her job, take her away from her family, her friends, her patients... Father Thomas McCreedy...Who... is... this... woman...?
The priest began to cry. The blood rushing to his skull, the fear that was contaminating his aura, brought tears of recreancy. The priest cleared his throat, the crimson mask left by the tire iron, dripping from his face to the steel below.
Frost: Father McCreedy... Frost smirked before losing his temper with the priest. "WHO IS THIS WOMAN!?"
Father McCreedy: Sarah Thompson! SARAH... Sa... Sarah Thompson... please... please let me go, I swear I will turn myself in... Please... release me..
Frost: Yes.. Yes... I did say I would release you, and release you I shall. But before I do, I must be certain that you will never, repeat these actions again. No more will you harm innocent people.
Father McCreedy: I promise,.. I will never... nev.... never... Harm anyone... aga.... gain.. again... Never again.. I swear to God...
Frost turns around to face the table, placing the folder onto the top. He turns back around with the leather apron on, and a blade in his right hand. He glares at the priest, snarling..
Frost: LIAR! Swearing to God, like you ever were a man of Him to begin with. You are a liar Father, and I can't allow you to continue your reign on his planet. You must be vanquished. I will release you.. from this earth... to never again roam this realm, seeking death and havoc upon its patrons. Your mission of decimation, has run its course.. This.. is your revelation. But not to the world, because they will never know. Just to myself and the powers that be.. your demise.. is my consummation.
Before the priest could scream, the blade was slammed into his lower abdomen. The priest reveled with pain and agony. Frost removed his hand from the blade, and looked down to the face of Father McCreedy. He put his finger over his mouth, and gave him a subtle, 'shhhh,' before grabbing the hilt of the blade again, pulling down as the steel ripped and raked through flesh, meat and bone. Frost released the blade once it had reached its destination, the jaw of the priest. Frost, turned around and began to remove the leather apron, folding it up neatly and laying it on top of the folder. Frost grabbed his Gucci jacket and put it on, brushing the front of it off, perfecting its disposition. Frost walked around the hanging corpse of the priest, as the blood flowed from the gaping wound, down to the steel plate that was embedded into the concrete floor.
Frost: Another wayward soul, forgiven for its trespasses. Bound to lead a life of anguish, to burn in the fires of his eternal undertaking. He is not the last. There will be more, there is always more. The quantity of potential sacrificial burdens that will be thrown to my awaiting feet, are in multitudes beyond the capacity of the mortal mind. The XWF has put me into a position, where I must decide the fate of another soul, "Fire Dragon." My short and contained investigations of this man, have led me to a dead end, which disturbs me. I am not vexed, but I am enthralled by the lack of information I can find on this individual. By the look of him, it is fairly evident to why he is not known to as many people as he probably hopes to captivate. He wears a mask. A veil to hide the status and selfhood of this ' Dragon.' A dragon, is also a mythical creature, so any worry that I would have if I were a mortal, should automatically be forgotten, due to the simple fact that this man, derives his name from a creature, though powerful and merciless, is not existent. I look forward to our meeting Mr. Dragon.. I am actually excited by the fact I get to meet a man who sees him self as a beast of flames and brimstone. As funny as the concept of fire versus ice is, this is exactly what this match is turning out to be. The underlying circumstances for the Dragon are depending on his decision to risk his mortal body, burning out and turning to ash. But the more I anticipate and analyze this match, the more awakened I am to the doomed fate this 'dragon' has awaiting him on Wednesday. The major difference between myself and you, Mr. Dragon, is that I will leave this match unaltered, in the same condition that I was in prior to the ringing of the bell. You, on the other hand will leave this match, broken, battered, bruised and defeated. Defeated, not just literally, as I will make you quit the match, but mentally... physically... emotionally... You will be completely collapsed. So as this meeting comes to an end, Frost reaches for a box, with a panel on the front of it, that hangs from the ceiling by a powercord. I give you this to consider "Fire Dragon." Do you cherish your life? Do you hope to succeed at the career you have obviously unwisely chosen for yourself? Would you like to keep the present state of being that you are now blessed with? If the answer to any of these questions are 'yes,' I suggest you stay at home come Wednesday. Because Wednesday.. The Iceman Cometh, and you will fall, into a black pit, surrounded by failed dreams and inspirations, forever lost in the darkness of your ignorance... Frost presses a button on the panel, causing the steel plate to release from one side, and swing downward by a hinge connected to the floor on the other. The hook releases itself from the ropes that bound the priest, as his carcass falls into a chute. Where it ends is not visible, as Frost presses another button, sending the plate back up to his original position. He releases his hold on the panel, and begins walking away from the table and the leather apron. Frost then goes out of sight, the darkness surrounding the vision of the camera lens.
Frost: Don't fall Mr. Dragon... You may have chosen fire as your elemental force.. But nothing burns, like the cold.
The Reaper
Eradicates
The Ripper