˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ((It's currently 1923 in London, England.))

The winters in Lambeth had always been harsh. Cold, harsh winds, and piles of snow.

The street lamp flickered, softly illuminating the snow below. Cain had been walking for almost an hour straight, and hadn't found anything related to the string of murders going around.

The victims all had something in common. Long, blonde hair, and in their early twenties. It wasn't much to go off of.

"....haah...it's so damn cold out.." Cain mumbled to himself, wrapping his scarf around his neck as he continued walking, his boots leaving footprints in the snow.