The Underground, the realm where the light did not touch.
The Underground, where Jack the Ripper's masks were sold like a commodity.
A different culture. A different smell. A different people.
Above were twisting tawny rocks and below was an enclave. A densely populated urban jungle that defied conventional city planning and architectural norms. Standing in its shadow for the first time, one might hardly believe that such a place existed. The walled city was a chaotic mosaic of concrete and steel, a tangle of buildings so tightly packed together that they seemed to meld into one another, forming a colossal, interconnected hive.
