PREY
AND PREDATORS
The
Heroes
This is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events
or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The
seven are to meet soon.
Professor
Freud
Sherlock
Holmes
Doctor
Watson
Dr.
Henry Jekyll
Count
Vlad Tepes
Rosa
Quasi
Mary
Reid
Jimmy
Loong
Some
days during OCT 2024, after a lapse of ‘blank creativity’, the urge of typing
prompted the mind to rebuilt its function….
18th
Oct, I am still at it.
31st
Oct 1417hrs…. done at 61,935 words at over 50 chapters……
Ideas
are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and soon you
have a dozen. – John Steinbeck
Part 1
1 The theorist
“The dualistic model
explains the development of personality as occurring through several clashes of
the two different instincts, that towards sexual activity and that towards
death. The resultant behaviours from these conflicts would produce distinct
personalities in everyone.”
The professor in the science
of neurology made his statement across the attendees of the hall: unpaid peers
and curious attendees who want to spend their evenings there, and of course the
opponents to the professor on any of his theories.
“These differential
personality traits come from the superego, ego, and the id. The ego, a critical
component of psychoanalytic theory as well, serves as the mediator between the
id and the superego. It seeks to satisfy the desires of the id in a way that is
both realistic and socially acceptable. Essentially, the ego strives to balance
the primal desires of the id with the moral and ethical standards imposed by
the superego.”
(extract
fromhttps://vusf.wordpress.com/2023/10/26/the-enduring-duality-of-humanity-lessons-from-freud-and-the-strange-case-of-dr-jekyll-and-mr-hyde/).
“Another of your sexual’
fantasy, Doctor?” The distinguished attendee interrupted the professor on his
presentation. “Or your superego? I take your presumptions; if I may say that to
describe your... theories are unfounded on factual evidence. I …...”
“From my own works and those
collaborated by others, the personality of the person is a sequence of mental
patterns; collective unconscious that are ingrained in them through memories
and learnings. It is integrating to be a part of their self-realization.”
“I stand...” The professor
intervened there.
“Clearly, you do hold a
stand on your ego, but mine is based on research and factual evidence.” The
doctor paused to clear his throat with the whopping, loud cough. He then blew
his nose to the annoyance of some others. “Medically unproven. Like how a doctor
will diagnose with...”
“I am also a doctor...” The
professor had to intervene rudely there.
“A doctor? Perhaps of
fallacy and dreams but unproven...” The doctor rudely intruded in the statement.
“Psychology is a new science
of learning the thought process...” The professor interjected.
“The new frontier of medical
findings, but yours are purely... fictional based on the realm of sexual
fantasy. It is frowning on by...”
“Doctor, sexual fantasy, as
you stated, is not new to mankind, but the depth and width of it were never
explored till now.” The professor was then irate by the other.
“On my land, we are more
discreet in our works on topic of sex …...” The doctor there had defended the
subject of sex.
“Yet, the current era on
your land was characterized by paradox of rigid morality and anti-sensualism,
but also by an obsession with sex. Sex was a main social topic, with
progressive and enlightened thought pushing for sexual restriction and
repression.” The Professor stated the obvious to the doctor.
“On
our land, the concern of society had given thoughts on the cause of famine,
disease, and war. Conflicts that led to war had often been due to the conflict
of sexual desire.”
“Stay
on the subject, Doctor.” An audience called out which the doctor ignored.
“To
curb the threats of overpopulation, especially of the poor and to solve other
social issues that were arising at the time, sex was socially regulated and
controlled.”
“God
save the Queen!” Another audience called out.
“New
sexual categories emerged as a response, defining normal and abnormal sex. Heterosexual sex between married couples
became the only form of sex socially and morally permissible. Sexual pleasure
and desire beyond heterosexual marriage was labelled as deviant, considered to
be sinful and sinister. Such deviant forms included masturbation,
homosexuality, prostitution, and pornography.” The Professor interjected. “It
was the work of the mind to overcome the barriers.”
(extract
from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victorian_erotica)
“Hail
thee, thy greatness. Pornography rules hard in us.” One of the audiences
praised the Professor.
“Watching
pornography is scopophilia – “the obtaining of sexual pleasure by looking at
nude bodies, erotic photographs.” They different types of this scopophilia,
namely an active (masculine) and a passive (feminine) variety.” The Professor
added.
“I will not be drawn into
this argument today.” The Doctor was upset at the depth of the topic. It was
not his true expertise.
“Clearly, my peer here is an
example of the superego, but of late I doubt he held the tool to express
himself except to huff and puff at my findings.” The professor retorted back to
the other rebuke on his works. “Perhaps in his fantasy, he will be seen effective.”
“I am not impotent,
Professor...” The doctor defended his ego, but the professor was insistent on
stressing his view on the issue.
“Perhaps, Doctor John here
may, in his... fantasy, be blowing down pigs’ abodes once too often.” The
professor smiled at the doctor. The doctor held the expression of a howling
wolf with the garish long side burns and hooked his nose with the affinity to
puff at the tobacco pipe held with his right hand.
“I …… I will not listen to
you anymore, Freud. You are an embarrassment to the fraternity of the medical
profession.” The doctor stood up and glared at the others who were there to
hear the talk.
“I will suggest that all of
you do the same as I am and leave this deranged man to his dreams…...Yes, to
me, they are all dreams and not intellectual works of brilliance.” The doctor
then turned to leave before he was stopped by the professor.
“John, I would suggest that
you retrieve your cane and hat you left behind at the chair.” The professor
smiled at the medical doctor. “And your trouser is not in its proper order.”
“What do you...” The doctor
looked down and saw the front of his trousers was not buttoned. He was at the privy
prior to attending the talk. His expression was alternating between
embarrassment and anger then. He stormed off from the hall, followed by his
aide, who retrieved his cane and hat. The other attendees roared out in
laughter before the professor raised his arms to stop the laughter.
“As I was to express my...”
The professor was then interrupted by another who walked in.
“There’s been another
murder.” The statement was heard by all, and the attendees all in turn walked
out. “It is on York Street.”
York Street was nearby the
hall.
“I do apologize for the
interruptions, Professor." The city rep who had extended the invitation to
the professor apologized.
“Narry your fault, young
man. Pardon me if I were to borrow an expression of yours. I will be here for
the next few weeks, barring any calls from my home. I can return to do the
continuance.”
“Thank you, Professor, but I
have other matters to attend.” The young city rep was off on his way to check
on the latest murder.
“I guess the murder took
precedent to the works of my theory.” The professor sighed while he watched the
hall empty then. “Duplicity knowledge ignored or whichever offers more
excitement. I guarantee I will see my pet sooner than expected.”
“Yofi may be lonely by now.”
Yofi is the pet dog of the professor whom he left at his hotel room. The
Professor put on the gloves over his hands, and adjusted the sleeve of his
shirt.
2 The Murder
The late evenings at that
part of the city were not spared by the thick fogs that reduced visibility, but
at late evening, the streets were not without their patrons. They wheezed past
each other to reach their destination, be it their abode to call it the day or
the drinking establishments to quench their thirst, and groped at the maids who
served the drinks. It may be their fun then, and if the need extends to the
reality of it, if they could afford it. It will be the alleys where they are
called the ladies’ corner for the release of their frustrations. There will be
willing lady participants there, for to them it was getting the extra coin to
feed the family or to pay later for a warm cot to sleep on. For the male
patrons, the procedure was simple and quick, with drinks spurring the desire,
and soon after, the patron who had dislodged the desire took the final walk to
secure their own sleep while the lady waited for the next paying patron.
That evening was no
different from the others; though news of murders had been whispered among the
ladies, with most praying silently that it would not be any of them who would
be the next victim. As mentioned above, the need for the coins outweighs the concern
of being murdered. After all, it was not like a massacre but an isolated
occurrence when it does.
And murders were common.
“I am aware there were
concerns about the murder cases of recent weeks, but these are isolated
occurrences; it was, but we will take precaution with more cobber to the patrols.”
An assurance of the precinct leaders to the city.
“Sergeant, there are already
a dozen in the last weeks.” The reporter of a popular journal had raised this
during the briefing attended by the city’s concerned members. “We can read the
crime rates are still as high with thieving and burglaries, but murders of
these ladies...”
No one gets overly worried
about the death of their father’s or brother’s than that of their mother’s or
sister’s; it will streak across the printed papers like a storm.
“As mentioned, we will take
the needed precautions. The dwellers of the city are also advised to stay off
the streets to avoid any untoward incidents.” The statement of the sergeant was
not taken as cautionary advice but as an insult then.
“Sergeant, I work till the
later part of the evening. Are you telling me I shall go back earlier? Who will
feed my family then?” The lady who sells the flowers to the kind gentlemen that
strolls the streets in the evening bellowed. “My man, James Freddie; he is your
pal too, is a bum at home and not even a good hump for my bum too.”
“We will do our best there,
Francine.” The Sergeant regretted having to be the spokesman then. The other
senior officers are all in attendance at the police ball, or the country side,
for their team-building exercise. Even the local precinct’s inspector had
called in unwell.
“Between
1857 and 1890 there were rarely more than four hundred homicides reported to
the police each year; we will discount the unreported ones, and during the
recent year the average was below that number.”
“The
Ripper will tear your report here, Sergeant.”
“Jack
the Ripper’s murders were not a common crime, and society was not as violent as
it is often reported.” The Sergeant hit back at the prints. “Speculations like
these spurs more acts.”
“Sergeant, can you please
describe the murders? Just for us to correctly report it.” The pesky reporter
was like a hound on the hunt for the fox. That question was soon echoed by the
others there.
“Was it ghastly?” Another
echoed sounding his ego there. He needed the details to sell the prints.
“Yes, we are investigating
the murders, and... all of them are ghastly.” The Sergeant regretted his
conjecture there. “Please allow... Oh, heck! Yes, the murders resembled the
works of savagery unseen before. However, we will do our...”
“I was told that the victims
were removed of their organs, and some were violated sexually.” The last words
drew gasps from the gentler attendees. “Are we facing another Ripper here?”
The reputation of the Ripper
was still fresh in the minds of the city dwellers, and without any clue to the
murderer, the cases remained unclosed.
“I can assure you that there
is no recurrence of the Ripper here.” The sergeant took the bold stand to deny
that accusation. “Nor was there any...”
“Another serial killer then looking
to make the mark here perhaps?” Pesky reporters are imaginative.
“I was told that the victims
were mauled too.” Another pesky reporter was doing his best to be
knowledgeable.
“Nothing of that was ever
reported.” The sergeant jousted with the reporter. “I ……”
“Are we looking for a lion
perhaps? Or the hounds of Baskerville?” The other pesky reporter conjecture
drew laughter. “Perhaps you need Sherlock Holmes here. I had a thought that
perhaps he might be of assistance.”
“Thank you for the thought,
Mr....” The sergeant was not a fan of the detective. Nosy was his perception of
Holmes, taking the credit from the hard-working coppers, though he seldom
claimed the conclusion of the solved cases were his. “I am sure the detective
was informed...”
“Is Mr. Holmes on the case?
Or are your coppers doing it?”
“Obviously, and regardless,
we are investigating the murders to see if there are any connections, and if
thus concluded, we will advise the papers on the matter. Thank you all for
attending, and have a nicer evening.” The sergeant chose to end the briefing.
It was then he was approached by a constable who whispered at his left ear. He
was not saying anything, and from the frenzy there, with the reporters rushing
out.
“Bloody ending to the break
I was to ask for.” His Janice had to tell her mother; he was not coming then.
It will be a yearlong of muted silence then.
3 The Detective
The man with the deerstalker
hat stepped off the coach that brought him to the street of his destination. He
was dressed in the ulster coat and cravat wrapped across this neck. He carried
a walking cane with the silver top. He took two steps forward while looking at
the gathered crowd across the street, blocking the alleyway there. There were
too many coppers there, stopping the crowd from entering the alley.
“You could give me more
space to step out, Holmes?” The man who followed the gentleman with the Ulster
coat spoke. “I am about to get my rear swiped by the coach.”
“Sorry, my dear Watson.” The
man addressed as Holmes moved to the side. “I was observing the scene.”
“Elementary, Holmes. It is
pretty much my observation there, but the safety rules state that I need more
space to avoid being pulled by the coach.” The other gentleman dressed
similarly with the ulster coat and had the bowler hat on the head. He did not carry
a cane but a medical bag that gives him a resemblance to a medical person.
“You could step off the
other side.” Holmes commented without looking away from the crowd. “The traffic
flow denotes that you get off the left.”
“I would if I could, but
there was the puddle there on the pavement. I am wearing my new shoes.” Watson
replied.
“And new socks. Red and
black do not match your personality. I would suggest all black.” Holmes counted
the curious observers there.
“Are we going over there or
shall we step back to the pavement, Holmes?” The gentleman named Watson took
the initiative to be more civilized or was safety conscious. The coach had
since left after dropping them. He stepped back from the street to the pavement,
but Holmes was already sprinting across the street. The latter sprint had him
barely missing the horse-driven coach driver cursing at the reckless man who
was running across the coach’s path.
“Are you bonkers or got a
death wish, Guvnor?" The coach rider screamed out. “If I'm not home soon,
I'm in a lot of Barney.”
Holmes ignored the cockney comment
and proceeded towards the crowd. Watson followed on, but he watched for any
approaching coaches. Holmes stood behind the gathered and made his inquiries.
It was not his usual mode of detection, but these murders had eluded his
thinking. He had read all the reports, from the paper clippings to the police
reports, but none had given him any clue to the cause of it. He had sat by the
window playing his violin, risking himself to be shot by any shooter like
Colonel Moran in the case of ‘Adventure of Empty House’.
“I saw the body. It was
sliced open like the others.” The chap in the workmen's clothes: baggy overall
and ash-covered shirt.
“I saw that, but where are
the body parts?” The chap on the left asked.
“I am a butcher. Probably
get eaten by now.” The chap dressed in the apron and covered with blood spots.
The ones who heard him gave him the stare. “I will know. I am a butcher. There
are...”
“Could you have done it?”
The first chap asked. “I meant removing the parts and...”
“Hey, I take them out, and
then it gets shipped to the kitchens to make...” The butcher frowned then.
“Perhaps sausages, or stews.”
“I am not eating them
anymore.” The one who spoke was a lady dressed in the blue gown and holding the
bag with the red tassel. She was an odd one there, for women were rarely seen
at the macabre scene. She saw the stares on her and levelled out her reasoning.
“I am... I was nearby and
more to it; I am a... writer, and dead person crime scenes are... interesting.”
The lady looked at the scene. Her explanations shut the curiosity, and Holmes
could not resist studying the lady, but his attention was pulled away by the
appearance of an interesting person.
Doctor Henry Jekyll is a
renowned chemistry researcher; his pursuit of the works had made him a recluse
from the fraternity. His peers had called him ‘a man of madness;’ however, he
defended his works as pioneering the works in chemistry.
Holmes was intrigued by the
appearance of the doctor, whose workplace was across the city. It would have
taken him an hour or more to get here. More to it, the Doctor Jekyll label of
madness was rumoured by the prints to hold multiple personalities. In the
prints, it was reported that the doctor displayed aggressive behaviour in one
of the seminars where his peers had salvaged him on his presentation. The
doctor flipped his calm composure and threw the chair there before he stormed
out of the hall. Since then, he was not invited to any talks and remained a
recluse.
Doctor Jekyll was dressed in
the dark grey coat over his regular attire then. He was wearing a bowler hat
over his head.
“Holmes, is that...” Watson
also saw the unusual onlooker.
“Yes, I saw. He may be in
the area and heard of the murder. All of them here are... Well, most of them
should be, as I will say, curious, but we would not know. The killer could be
here too.”
“Your assumption may be
right, for I heard from the copper there, the body was found an hour ago,
and...” Watson stopped when he saw the concentration expression on the other.
Holmes had a peculiar knack to slip into his own madness—a manner of words
here. His mind will be eliminating the trivial and focusing on the main clues.
“Doctor Watson, may I have
your professional advice?” That invitation came to the attention of Doctor
Watson.
4 The Researcher
Doctor Jekyll heard the
mention of the doctor, and he turned his focus towards the direction. He caught
the eyes of another. He recognized the identity of the person.
Sherlock Holmes.
It was a rarity to recognize
the detective, but some prints had his sketch on them. It was not difficult to
not match the real person to the sketch with the hat and coat, with the hawkish
eyes and hooked nose. He had known some detectives in his works and readings;
the more poignant ones were dressed in the fine tweeds and pompous attitude.
Their mastery of these detectives was demure or aristocratic in the
description, like Holmes; they worked on eliminating the clues. It was unlike
the more adventurous detectives from the other western continent called the
Pinkerton, or the Secret Services; the hunt and the shoot-out.
Doctor Jekyll then turned to
leave the place. He hails a passing coach and boarded it in haste. When on the
coach, he turned and saw the detective standing on the street. He turned his
attention to the murder.
Two hours ago, Doctor Jekyll
was nearby to meet an associate he met from the southern continent to discuss
matters that were of interest. He was there three months ago, and the guest was
back in the city. It was time to meet again.
Their last meet was
eventful.
“You must try these flowers
to extract the ingredients. It is practice there among the natives to pound the
flowers to get the juices. It was supposed to make them invincible, but the
correct amount to be administered to avoid any complications.” The guest was
seated at the café table laid out on the pavement, serving tea and scones.
“What complications,
Edward?” Doctor Jekyll leaned towards the adventurer he had befriended. He had
known Professor Edward Challenger, who held beliefs in his works; the other was
also embroiled in controversial issues like his discovery of the Lost World. He
was rebuked as a mad explorer or delusional in his works, a reflection of the
other doctor’s work.
“How could I explain it? I
was there at one of the sessions, and the ‘Sangoma’; they are the traditional
healers as we recognised them as such, but their actual contributions are
somewhat difficult to categorise.” Professor Challenger, as he preferred to be
named for the public, or the ones who saw him as the brawn among them.
“Come on, Edward. Please
skip the trivialities and tell me about the real effects.” Doctor Jekyll
pressed on.
“Henry, I was to tell.
Please hold your patience.” The guest smiled, but his expression was hidden by
the thick beard. “The session I was in was attended by three young warriors.
They were there to undertake their next adulthood challenges. These were not
the typical adulthood challenges: to be a warrior there, to bring back the
feed, and to protect the tribe. This new level of challenge was to be the
ultimate warrior—one that can defend from any adversaries. The issue was not
all adversaries were of the physical realm.”
“Edward, I can sit through
the night listening to your adventure, but can we skip the narratives...”
“Henry, I will be brief. The
results were... crazy. Of the three warriors, two of them slipped into a...
trance will be word.” The professor frowned on his eye brows.
“Trance? Come on, Edward. We
have seen the effect of that. Tell me more.”
“There was more to the
trance. The warriors I mentioned went into a frenzy and then the
transformation. Their body frame expanded…”
“Please, Edward. It is
impossible for the...” Doctor Jekyll felt his excitement dwindle there.
“Seriously, Henry. The body
frame doubled in size, and their strength tripled.”
“Were you hallucinating,
Edward?”
“No! I was sober. I had no
whiskey that day. The session became intense, and one of them managed to pull
the tree trunk from the ground. It was a huge tree.”
“It cannot be.” Doctor
Jekyll shook his head. “I am...”
“Unsure? Seriously, Henry.
You asked me, and I told you. I brought you the flowers here.” Professor
Challenger pushed the bag he had on him. “It is the flower, or ‘impi isopoki’
by the natives. It's rare, and only the brave can find it or ever bring it back.”
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