<div align="center">(http://i53.tinypic.com/ilyq0h.jpg)</div><div align="center"><strong>The Black Library</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>London, England</strong></div><br/>The Black Library was renowned not just as one of the largest book stores in England, but the largest collection of occult works in quite possibly the world. It occupied the entirety of a two-story building and nearly every available surface was lined with books both modern and ancient. Such a collection, one would think, would more than likely be in the hands of some rich old man or avid, aged reader. Yet the owner was purported to be a young woman in her twenties. How she could've amassed such a collection in the few years (and how she could afford it) was a mystery that never seemed to find an answer. The place was decorated with fine, polished dark wood and lush red carpeting. Massive oak tables sat on the lower floor, providing shelf space for overflowing volumes and a place to read for the occasional customer. A half-circle shaped desk on the lower floor was where the proprietor could usually be found, reading one of her many volumes.<br/><br/><div align="center">(http://i55.tinypic.com/4rzs5i.jpg)</div><br/>Who would've guessed that the young owner of the store was none other than Jack The Ripper? Ah, but the story of how she came about getting that name could fill a book in itself. Jacqueline Whitechapel was, as usual, standing behind her desk with a book in one hand. Busy reading yet another obscure title, no doubt. She'd dressed that day in a pair of black slacks, black vest with a dark blue tie, and a white blouse beneath it all. Her signature bowler, as usual, rested upon her head, brim tilted slightly downwards. Business was slow, as usual, so she'd occupied herself with reading. This would be the fifth time 'round her massive collection of books and she'd comitted almost every one of them to memory. Funny, the things you could do when you had mountains of time on your hands.