Chapter 1 - Part 1

Opening my eyes, I realized the light wasn’t nearly as bright as I thought it was. What a weird dream. The day started out normal, with me taking a shower, eating a crappy microwave breakfast, and heading to work with a tired demeanor. It wasn’t exactly sunny out today, and there was more moisture in the air of the London streets than I would like. The morning sun ignited the red bricks of the various Victorian-style buildings that were either historical or built to match the aesthetic, as I walked… Though the sun happened to reflect perfectly off one of the distant glass-covered skyscrapers and straight into my eye like the bastard it is. Most of the shops had already opened for the bustling morning crowds that lined some of the shops' entrances for coffee. A mix of the salty moist smell of the English Channel, baked goods, and mild garbage wafted in the air. Cyclists, cars, buses, and lorries traversed the tarmac streets busily but it all felt like another day in London. Strangely, it wasn’t foggy this morning.

Cutting through Whitechapel on my way to work, as usual, I ducked through an alleyway. The only thing decorating the brick-lined alley was a single blue dumpster, but as I strode past it, I suddenly felt dizzy... and the dumpster behind me was gone. The alley was no longer tarmac, but was replaced with dirt and cobblestone. The buildings on either side were made of red bricks as they were before, but the brick shading was much darker, and was plastered in spots with dried-out dirt. As I turned back to where I came from, some wooden crates were suddenly stacked up where the dumpster had been, and hanging a story above me were some clothes, hung to dry. Was I going nuts? The drying clothes weren’t there before, and I could have sworn those crates weren’t there a second ago. Strangely, the buildings were not the same as they were before. Some of the Victorian replica brick buildings had completely changed in colour schemes, or entirely in layout, while some of the historical buildings looked relatively the same.

“What is going on?” I asked myself as I spun around to take in my surroundings. At the end of the alley, there were people traversing past, so I inched over to take a look. Maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me. While I observed the area, I felt around and realized I didn’t have either my phone or wallet. Did I leave them at home? Maybe… but I was positive that I’d put them in my pockets.

When I emerged from the alley, I was in utter shock. The glass building that blinded me was gone. Completely. The people waiting in line at the various shops had vanished and had been replaced by dust-ridden fog. Not only that, but the shops themselves had been utterly changed. What was once a coffee shop was now a tailor, and what was once a pub was… well, still a pub, but a shittier one. All the cyclists, cars, buses, and even the lorries had been replaced by horses and carts. What threw me off the most was that the people that were still there were now dressed like it was the late Victorian era. And there was dirt… there was dirt everywhere. Where the hell am I?

The bustling crowd didn’t seem to care that a man dressed completely differently from them appeared out of an alley. My clothes were just a black collared shirt and black dress pants. It wasn’t my style per se, but I had very few options since it was close to my laundry day. To be honest, I thought it looked a little too edgy. I wandered around the area, taking in everything I could. Vendors lined the street, unlike I had remembered. I assumed I was in some sort of marketplace, and everyone seemed to speak English... or at least some broken form of it. However, none of this was here yesterday, and I don’t remember hearing anyone setting anything up in the night.

“Excuse me, sir, what is going on here?” I ended up asking one of the vendors. He was sitting behind a large table surrounded by bags of grains and lentils.

“What? Are you a muttonhead? This is a market,” replied the man sitting behind the table. He was a shorter Indian-looking man, with muscles large enough to make his size irrelevant. On top of that, he had the facial expression of someone who was ready to beat the shit out of the next person to piss him off.

“I just came out of that alley, and I don’t remember ever seeing a market here before. Was this set up last night?” I asked as I looked around. The more sights I took in, the more I felt like I was part of some movie set.

“What are you talking about? This market has been going on for a long time. So bugger off if you’re not gonna buy anything.”

“Then maybe I’m lost. Could you tell me where I am?” I asked, even though I could feel him getting more annoyed.

“You’re in Whitechapel, London kid. You probably didn’t realize it because this is the only part of Whitechapel that isn’t littered with whores and beggars,” he replied with a click of his tongue.

“So I am where I thought I was,” I thought out loud. I was even more confused by his description of the place, but maybe he was just messing with me.

“Just get out of here,” he glowered at me. If this was really Whitechapel, why did it look so different? Was it a historical reenactment festival or something? No, there’s no way that Whitechapel would host something like that during this time of year. Maybe…

“Is there a festival going on?” I asked myself aloud before heading for work. It wasn’t that far from here, so maybe my coworkers could tell me what was going on.

Upon getting to my workplace, I found that it was not the same. My coworkers had been replaced by other people. What was originally an office building was now a cobbler filled with shoes. I couldn’t believe what I saw. What exactly was going on? Was I still dreaming? At the corner, I saw a young boy dressed in the same late Victorian-style clothing that everyone seemed to be wearing. However, he was holding a large paper with the current news on it. On it also read the date. Though, the date itself didn’t matter much to me. What mattered was the year. 1888 is what it read. Then the realization struck.

I stood frozen. Everything lined up in my head, as I had either time-traveled or gone crazy. Either way, I was in such a shock that I meandered my way back to the alleyway that I had ducked through before ending up in this timeline. Once I was there, I slumped against the side of the building and thought. For what felt like hours, I sat there, thinking. What was going on? What was I going to do?

I don’t have any money. No one is going to believe I am from the future, so what can I do? I do know that no matter where you go, you need money, so my first priority is that. Another thing is that I need shelter, and my other priority is getting some clothes that don’t stand out. I can’t exactly change, but I did see that most men in the market wore long coats. Most of which would cover up my clothes enough to make them look normal. Plus, I was feeling a bit chilly, unlike earlier.

Looking up at the drying clothes hanging above me, sure enough, there was a long coat. It was a worn grey coat with several holes, but it could work. Pushing some crates in the alley underneath the clothesline, I used them to climb up and grab the coat. Once I had it, I climbed down and threw it on. It was still a bit damp, but it wasn’t as if I couldn’t put up with it. Damn it, now I look even edgier than before. Whatever… it would be fine for now. It’s not like beggars can be choosers.

Speaking of beggars, it was probably best for me if I got some money first, and I didn't have any clue how much money was worth during this time period. I swear… If I got sent to this time period by some outside force, then they should have at least given me some kind of ability, damn it. This was hopeless. I had no clue how I was going to get any money. Perhaps I could try begging on the corner? Wait, that vendor said there were tons of them here, so I don’t think this is a charitable area.

I wandered around before passing shops with semi-reflective glass windows. I looked at my reflection and noticed that my body had changed. My hair was no longer a dirty blonde but instead a darkened shade of grey. I looked even edgier. Was this timeline trying to make me an edgelord or something? My face was still clean-shaven, and I still had a mole under the right side of my chin. The pupils I had were severely dilated, and my eye colour had changed from brown to grey, with a yellow ring around the pupil.

No matter what timeline it was, though, the bags under my eyes were still there from so many night shifts. My chin, which I wish was more chiseled, was rather rough, and my hair was still cut to be no longer than eight centimeters. Although that wasn’t my choice either. I had wanted to grow my hair out, but I had to look presentable at work. The more I thought about it the more I realized I hated my job, so much that I don’t even want to talk about what it was.

Enough focusing on the past, or future… It doesn’t matter. I guess I better figure out how I am going to get some money. There seemed to be a lot of people wandering around, so there must be jobs that even I could do. I could read, write, and was educated enough, so it shouldn’t be hard, right? Nope, I don’t even know where to start. Though staying here with a stolen coat wasn’t gonna get me a job, so I began roaming around.

The city of London wasn’t much different than the one I knew in terms of layout. As for its style, well… It was far less pleasant. There were more dirt and cobblestone streets than before, and it wasn’t very bright out due to a low-hanging smog-like fog that reeked of coal, tobacco, and hot iron, along with a far more distinct sulfuric smell from the English channel. Various shop windows looked slightly tinted due to the smog, and more than a few people were having coughing fits. Beggars throughout the streets groaned and coughed as they stood around on the streets and slept in alleys. Others drudged around the less crowded streets, going about their business dressed in mainly dirty work attire. Most of them sported a cigarette in their mouths, freshly lit, to add to the morning smog. The sights and smell didn’t bode well with me at all, but I kept on my way.

As I was passing through an alley, two burly men who were sparsely dressed in cover-alls and long shirts left a back alley bar absolutely drunk. Not only that, but they reeked of alcohol, fish guts, and tar. In order to avoid them I strayed towards the right side of the alley, but one of them decided to drift in front of me. Because of the alley's size, I stepped away from the wall to avoid him, but he meandered his way in front of me again. When I finally reached where he and his friend were, I tried to step around, but the boar of a man held his arm out in front of me.

“I’m sorry. I’ll head the other way,” I said, trying to avoid trouble. The two men seemed to find this rather amusing, as they began to chuckle. I started to back away, right as the man spoke in a humoured but threatening tone.

“No, you’ll be handing over all you’ve got. We’ll beat you otherwise,” the man said. His buddy, still drunk as could be, stepped behind me to block my exit.

“I don’t want any trouble. I am new to this area and have already lost all my money,” I replied honestly.

“Don’t be given us ex’uses,” the man said, before throwing a very slow, drunken punch. I easily dodged it and attempted to punch him in the face. However, his friend grabbed me from behind before I could. I squirmed and kicked out to keep the other one from approaching. This only encouraged the grizzly man more, as he came toward me and his friend. Tucking down like a wrestler preparing to tackle his opponent, the man got close enough that I was able to accurately place the sole of my boot on his forehead in a downward kick. The drunken slob of a man’s chin slammed into the dirt and cobblestone below with a loud crack.

Recognizing his friend being hurt, the man who held me from behind, angrily slammed me into the alley wall. The hard brick abrasively cut away at my face as he slammed me into the wall twice, before being thrown to the ground. I quickly and desperately scrambled toward the opposing alley wall as the drunken man started coming at me again. This may be it. My last moments will be filled with the foul stench of fish and sweat-covered drunkards. As I thought this, I felt my hand rub against a loose stone, which I quickly lifted up and chucked at the man who was less than half a meter from me. It slammed into his shoulder before falling on his foot, causing him to yelp in pain as he fell over awkwardly and hit his head against the wall. Since both were now unconscious, I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Adrenaline caused my whole body to shake with every heavy breath.

Since they had caused me so much trouble, I had an idea. Albeit, not a just one. Though I could probably justify it as compensation for my pain. My self-justification gave me enough reason to go through the men's pockets and raid their wallets with a smug but morally inquisitive look. Upon finding nothing of value, I slowly continued with my business before I heard the sound of an old man laughing. Sitting at the end of the alleyway was an old man dressed in a business suit with his tie loosened and some bread in his hand. He seemed to be laughing at me for some reason. Did he find me fighting for my life amusing? Was this normal entertainment in this era? No, it couldn’t be.

“Why are you laughing, old man?” I asked, shaky and annoyed.

“Because that was the most entertaining fight I have ever seen in this alley, and there are quite a few of them, innit,” he said between his giggles.

“Well, I aim to please. I am Lou Barrett,” I said with a cocky bow.

“I am Harold Lewak. Now, come and sit. If I got my ass kicked like that then I would be hungry. The bread will calm your nerves.” he said, gesturing at his loaf of bread beside him.

“Thank you.” I said before sitting down and accepting his kind offering.

Although the bread the old man had given me was stale, it was far better than anything I had at the moment. The old man had a certain air to him that seemed to welcome me in. To be honest, though, he seemed a bit strange. He was dressed far better than I as he was wearing a full suit with his collar unbuttoned like that of a politician after getting home from work. Yet, here he was eating stale bread and sitting in alleyways.

“If I may ask, why are you in this alley, where so many angry drunks frequent?” I asked him in an attempt at sounding like I was from this era, or as a butler from a British drama because that's the only reference I had.

“To be frank, I’m getting up there in age. Thus, I've been laid off and have no desire to tell the missus yet. So I sit here, watching the drunks and pickpockets pass by, waiting for something interesting to happen. A real shame, innit.” he said with a deep and solemn sigh.

“Do you not have the ability to retire? Or is it something else?” I asked before eating the last of the bread.

“I can retire when I so wish and I have the means. But I was hoping for just one adventure to come wisp me away before I end up settling down to die,” he said whilst making a motion with his hands to show him being wisped away.

“Well, that’s quite morbid,” I replied.

“Indeed. But it doesn’t make it any less of the truth. While I’m waiting, I might as well help a few people on the way, such as yourself,” he said, before giving me a humourous glare. I couldn’t help but respect this man.

“If you wish to help me, you have already done more than enough by feeding me, and I thank you for being so kind. So I don’t wish to ask much more of you, but do you know where I might be able to spend the night or find a job?” I asked, somewhat awkwardly but with a hopeful expression. His face got rather stern for a moment, furrowing his brow deep in thought before finally answering.

“Your best bet would be to find someone down at the docks to work for and house you in return, but that would be long term, so they might not give you a room tonight. I would check with the Chapel first.”

“Thank you, you have been very helpful,” I said, getting up. “I do hope we meet again. I wouldn’t mind having another chat.” And with that, I was off.

Problem was, I had no idea where the Chapel was. Whitechapel itself was already big enough and I didn’t know it well enough to find it on my own easily, especially since it was so different now. Maybe I should have asked that old man where it was? Sadly, I had already been traveling for nearly an hour. If I tried going back now, he might not even be there. I had no other choice than to keep looking.

After a good while, I finally found the Chapel. It was dark, and the watch I had showed 10:38 in the bloody morning. Despite that, it was night time in London, and I had apparently arrived in this time period towards the end of the day. The chapel, which I originally assumed to have grey-ish white-coloured bricks, had turned a disturbingly darker shade by the lack of sunlight. Despite this, it seemed like a beacon of hope in the otherwise awful-looking district. Its pyramid-like roof, sitting atop the rectangular building with a bell tower in the front, sat among all the other buildings with great contrast.

All around me were beggars who were attempting to stay somewhat warm with whatever they could find. Some of which dogpiled together in the alleys, while others were bundled up under layers of stuffed coats similar to my own under shopfronts. Prostitutes also hung around the street, attempting to seduce any drunk that passed them by. The Chapel seemed so much nicer since no one dared to do anything on their front stoop. It was hard to tell if it was out of respect, or fear.

Since I had come this far, I climbed up the stone slab steps leading to the Chapel’s big plain wooden door and knocked upon them as hard as I could. After a few moments of me standing in front of the door, it opened just slightly. A man who was so old he didn’t look like he should be alive anymore, let alone moving around, peeked his head out of the crack between the doors. Drool hung from his chin like a spider's thread, as he eyed me up and down with an unimpressed look.

“It’s bloody ten, what do you want?” He asked me harshly.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour but I could use a place to stay the night and I was told you could house me. It just doesn’t feel safe out here at night,” I said. He eyed me up and down with a judgemental glare.

“You’re right about it not being safe, but that isn’t my problem. Ye have a penny as donation?” he said as if looking down on me. This money-grubbing geezer, he just wanted to extort me.

“No, I haven’t, and I do not yet have the means to do so. Someone has stolen my wallet, and I am new to London,” I lied, as I knew he probably wouldn’t believe that I was from the future. Though most of it was the truth.

“Well, then we have no rooms for you. Begone with ye.” he said, slamming the door in my face.

“Well, that’s not very Christ-like!” I yelled from the other side of the door.

I was ignored, so without anything better to do, I set off to find a bridge or alleyway that might serve as a temporary shelter. My luck, which I thought was getting better, ended up not being good at all. I had no home, no job, no friends, the list could go on and on. I was starting to feel rather depressed about all this. Nothing was coming as easily as I thought it would, but you live with what you got. Now that I think about it, am I even alive? Could this be hell?

With nothing else to do, I just kept wandering for what seemed like hours, but my watch only showed 11:27. Hearing what sounded like a metallic thump, I looked down to see a small cloth pouch resting next to my foot. Picking it up carefully, I looked inside to see five coins that I recognized from old coin collections. I considered going back to the Church but it was so late that I didn’t care. Deciding that I shouldn’t wander any longer, I found a random alley and laid down on a stack of old newspapers underneath a tarp-style roof, hanging from the top of the alley. It was starting to get damp from the natural fog that had been coming in all day, and neither the papers, nor the tarp did anything to prevent it.

Right when I finally found a comfortable position to sleep, I heard the yelling of a young woman, followed by her screams. Getting up from my spot in a panic, I began running towards the screams. After a few seconds of running, I arrived at the place the screams had come from, an alleyway that was slightly bigger than the one I had chosen to rest in. In the shadows of the alleyway was a woman, laying on the cold, wet ground, in a pool of her own fresh blood. She was still breathing and had lost consciousness, but what quickly caught my eye was the three men standing above her.

One held a blunt bat-like object covered in blood, and each of the men were somewhat muscular. They could definitely do far worse than the boar-like men that pummeled me earlier. Each of them was dressed in worker's clothes with thick coats over top of them, and two of them were wearing newsboy caps. Two of them were also older looking and had dense bushy beards, but one was bald, and the other had short oily hair. The youngest of the three looked like he was in his teens, with a soot-covered hairless face and short blonde hair. He turned and saw me staring right at them. He clicked his tongue and, as if on cue, the other two turned to look at me. The white in their eyes shone like daggers in the moonlight amidst the gory dark backdrop.

Without hesitation, I ran as fast as I could, but I wasn’t someone who ever did cardio by choice, so the three attackers began gaining on me quickly due to my lack of exercise. I began wanting to buy them off with the little money I had so I reached into my newfound moneybag and began throwing two of the coins at them. Although the money didn’t exactly have the effect I wanted, it did something upon hitting their skin. Each of the coins burned two of the attackers' skin as it hit their faces, causing them to slow down as they winced in pain. What exactly was in these coins?

Seeing their reactions, I grabbed the last three coins and started stuffing them between my fingers so that they were sticking out just a little. I didn’t know why they burned them, but I didn’t care. It was the only thing I could think of. As the youngest of the men was closing on me I leapt forward, wrapped my arm around a lamp post, spun around it, and struck him right in the jaw. To my surprise, rather than knocking him out, it knocked him back and there were burn marks across his face from where I hit him. The other two watched eagerly as we fought with entertained looks. They obviously thought I was going to lose and didn’t mind not lending a hand.

He lunged at me again, so I quickly dodged to the left and with a right uppercut, and struck him in the chin from below. He held his mouth and cried out as burn marks had formed on his chin. His mouth started dripping blood as he opened it up, letting out a pained yell, before I struck him in the mouth again. When I did, one of the coins in my fingers, upon making contact with his mouth, slipped from my grasp and into his throat. He cried out in agonizing pain as he choked on and then swallowed the coin. Clutching his chest, he began to vomit a blend of char and blood before falling to the ground. The other two men and myself watched in horror and surprise as their friend's body turned into an ashen-dust.

This was definitely hell. The others were no longer surprised, as they were both now rushing at me with pure rage. With both of them coming at me, I couldn’t block or dodge them. I was as good as dead, but before I could accept my fate, a new player entered the ring by kicking them both as he fell from the top of a nearby building. Upon landing, the man stood with an aura that made you want to back off due to his mere presence, or at least he did, until he pulled out a flask and took a huge swig.

Now he didn’t seem any different from any other drunks that roamed the street other than that he was clean-shaven. His body was rather toned from what I could see, and he wore similar clothes to what I was wearing, except his coat was brown which clashed with his black leather gloves. Strangely, his gloves seemed to reflect glints of moonlight every so often. The strange man had short golden hair except for in the back, where he had a long ponytail that stretched down most of his back, and was tied with string every twenty or so centimeters.

The two men quickly got up, as Mr. Ponytail put away the flask and raised his hands in a classic martial arts position. Both of them rushed at him, throwing a heavy fist each toward the ponytail man’s face, but before the attackers could touch him, he dodged out of the way and in one fluid motion launched both opponents into the air.

Landing on their backs with a loud thud, they couldn’t comprehend what had just happened to them, before the bald one received a swift punch to the throat. Now, most of the time this would just knock someone out cold, or crush their windpipe, but his strike beheaded him and the man turned to dust just as the other one did. The last one left alive saw this and ran off as fast as he could, causing the ponytail man to give chase.

“Wait,” I called out, but he didn’t listen. I was alone once again. Remembering the woman who they attacked, I ran back to her. She was still there, unconscious. I began to see if I could wake her, only to be called out from behind, by two cops.

“Come out of there, kid!” one of the officers said.

“It wasn’t me I swear. I heard a scream so I came to check it out and she was like this,” I replied as I came out of the alleyway.

“A likely story,” the officer said, cuffing me as his partner ran up to the girl.

“She’s still alive,” the other said reluctantly.

“Get her to a doctor. I’ll take this one in for questioning,” the officer replied as he led me away.