"So I found out what was up with that stupid kid. Alexander apparently didn't have a lab assistant, rather a second mind in his head. Should've known by their last names, like really, calling your alter ego 'Hyde' isn't slick anymore. Either way, I'm not giving up. No matter what that little shit says."

Auburn sat in her van parked close to the police station. Kinda shitty honestly, it looked like a storage facility that was bought out. She waited, leaning on her dashboard. Was Hyde right though? Even if he was a creation he was still real, still spoke about real things, and real situations. Maybe she was in over her head. She looked up as Damien walked out of the station, clearly satisfied with something. She got out of her car and closed the door as quietly as possible, to not alert him she was there. She watched him look around and walk into a small alleyway between the butcher's shop, and her mother's bookstore, the brick walls spray painted up and down with lewd phrases and poorly drawn dicks. She peeked around the corner to see Damien pull a vial of liquid from his lab coat. It had a disgusting color, like puke mixed with slime, mixed with what she didn't want to know. In his other hand he held the mirror.

"Get off my ass, plenty of people in this town are weirdos like you." "What if she called the cops hmm?" "Psh, she didn't, something about her tells me she doesn't like them." "Just transform already." "Hardass." Damien whispered the last words, closed the mirror, and pulled the cork off the vial, he drank it and shook his head, stumbling to the side to catch himself against the wall. She watched as he painfully transformed back into Alexander. He adjusted his glasses and rubbed his face. Putting the empty vial back in his pocket.

"If you're done spying on me, we need to talk." He turned around as Auburn slowly walked into the alley, her arms crossed. He put a hand out to her. "Alexander Jekyll, a pleasure to meet you miss, Holmes was it?" She nodded and took his hand, shaking it lightly before returning to her original pose. He put his hands in his pants pockets.

"I believe we got out on the wrong foot. I apologize for Damien's harsh words. Even if he doesn't, and I apologize for my own. They were rude and uncalled for, I hope that at the very least you don't see me as an enemy." 

"Wait, what? I thought you'd be more angry than anything." She said in surprise.

"No, honestly I can't blame you, watching someone talk to himself in a mirror with two different voices is strange, and you are a Holmes after all." He shrugged. "Anyway, that's my story. What's yours, as you said this whole detective thing was none of my business, but now that you have made my entire college career yours I think I deserve some answers." He adopted her crossed arms pose.

"Guess I have been a little creepy." She chuckled a little.

"You followed a 16 year old to a police station and watched him from your car for half an hour. I think 'a little' is an understatement."

"Yeah, well uh, I don't know where I should start."

"Maybe with why you're so invested in solving a crime the cops are already taking care of."

"Because that's just it, they aren't, well they are. But they aren't taking it as seriously as it needs to. I've been doing some light research about NewCreek and we haven't been strangers to murder. Especially strange ones. In the 1800s mostly, and mostly by people moving from London. These murders have similarities to the one last night, especially no evidence of a weapon or a murderer."

"So a killer is copying crimes from 200 years ago?"

"Not just copying, all around New England these killings have been happening and it's the exact same circumstances every time, and all of them are unsolved. I think this is the same killer."

"A 200 year old killer coming back for more?"

"Hey, crazy things happen in this town all the time, you for starters."

"True enough, where are you going to start?"

"I'm not sure, I'd need to examine the body but I can't get inside the morgue anymore."

"I think I have just the guy to help."

"Who."

"Jamie Frankenstein."

"Really? He's a druggie."

"The craziest motherfucker I've ever met, if anyone can get into a morgue, he can."

"Where do we find him?"

"Pizza place down the road, he delivers on the night shift. I know it's him because his car always smells like weed."

"Guess we gotta find him and convince him to join us."

"Wait, us?"

"If you want to at least, I'd need the help of a chemist if this goes where I think it might."

"Hmm, you gotta deal, delete the video and we'll help the best we can, yes we will Damien." He put his hand out again.

"Already gone." She shook it, grinning.