The Dead Man's Secrets
"The Surgeon of Shadows Moves First"
Morning fog rolled into Port Victory like a crawling ghost, thick and heavy with the smell of coal, rot, and secrets.
The bells hadn't yet rung.
The hospital was waking slowly—too slowly.
But Jack Dawkins was already awake.
He had to be.
Because today…
Episode 3 of the Artful Dodger would begin.
And the canon—the one he knew far too well—would bring danger, corpses, lies, and death.
This time, though?
Jack planned to get ahead of it.
Jack Dawkins — Walking Into the Episode Early
Jack walked down the main street with practiced calm.
His cloak was worn.
His expression unreadable.
His steps light, controlled, the way a Sun Breather moved when he wanted to blend, not shine.
His uncle Fagin trailed behind him, muttering curses.
"There's whispers, Jackie-boy," Fagin said. "Someone found a dead man washed up by the docks. Somethin' nasty carved into him."
Jack didn't slow his pace.
"I know."
"You know?" Fagin hissed. "And ye're not worried?"
"I'm moving before the others do. The canon starts today."
Fagin blinked.
"What's a cannon?"
"Nothing," Jack said quickly. "Just… fate."
The Dead Man Arrives Early
Normally, in the show, the corpse would arrive later.
But because of Jack's previous interference—
the destroyed syndicate, the illegal clinic, the wealthy patients he saved…
Everything shifted.
Jack pushed open the hospital doors to find chaos breaking loose.
Doctors shouting.
Nurses scrambling.
A stretcher rattling across the floor carrying a waterlogged corpse.
Hetty Baggett spotted him instantly.
"Jack! Finally—you need to see this."
Jack walked to the stretcher, calm as still water.
And then he saw it.
The dead man's chest was sliced open—
not by a surgeon.
Not by a butcher.
By someone who wrote messages with a knife.
Belle Fox appeared beside Jack, breath quick, eyes sharp.
"What kind of monster does this?"
Jack answered softly.
"The kind that hides secrets inside people."
Belle shuddered.
Jack tightened his gloves.
"Clear the room."
Hetty blinked. "Clear—? Jack, this is a crime scene!"
"Clear it," Jack repeated.
"I'm the best surgeon here. And this is no ordinary corpse."
Fagin grinned.
"Oh-ho. Jackie-boy's got that look again."
Inside the Autopsy Room
Only four people remained:
Jack
Belle
Hetty
Fagin (who politely stole the dead man's boots)
Jack inhaled.
Sun Breathing: First Form — Controlled Focus.
Belle didn't see the movement, but she felt it—
the room sharpened, the air hummed.
Jack took his scalpel.
"This man wasn't killed," Jack said.
"He was silenced."
Belle's eyes widened.
"You mean—"
"Yes. Someone cut him open to hide something inside."
Hetty covered her mouth.
Fagin stepped back warily.
Jack cut carefully along the already-damaged sternum…
And inside the ribcage, tucked between the lungs—
Belle gasped.
"A metal box?"
Jack removed it gently, placing it on the tray.
It was intricate, rusted, locked with rotating gears.
Hetty whispered:
"What is that?"
Fagin snorted.
"Looks like it belongs in a pirate story."
Jack, however, recognized it immediately.
It was canon.
The dead man's secret.
But now it came earlier—
because of him.
He tapped the gears, listening.
Belle frowned.
"You know what that is?"
"Yes," Jack said.
"It's a clue. One that could destroy half the city."
Jack Makes a Choice
Belle looked at him.
"Jack… what are you planning to do with it?"
Jack wiped blood from his gloves.
"First? I'm not handing this to the police."
Belle's mouth opened in shock.
Hetty whispered, "Jack—this is evidence."
"I know."
Jack's voice was firm.
"I'm keeping it safe."
Belle stepped forward.
"Why? What aren't you telling us?"
Jack stared at the box.
"This isn't just a clue. It's bait."
Fagin nodded slowly.
"And someone dangerous is gonna be lookin' for it."
Jack locked eyes with Belle.
"And I intend to be ready when they come."
A Surgeon of Shadows Does Not Wait
Jack slipped the metal box into his cloak, into his system storage.
Gone.
Hidden.
Belle grabbed his wrist.
"Jack. Are you going to tell me what's in that box?"
He paused.
"No."
She exhaled sharply.
"And why not?"
Jack stepped close, eyes intense.
"Because the less you know…
the longer you'll stay alive."
Belle swallowed.
A mix of anger and fear crossed her face.
"You're shutting me out."
"For now."
"And you expect me to just accept that?"
Jack leaned in slightly.
"I expect you to trust me."
Silence.
Then Belle whispered:
"…Fine."
But her eyes burned.
The Episode Twist Begins
A knock echoed at the autopsy door.
A soldier's voice rang out:
"Doctor Dawkins! The Governor requests your presence immediately. It's urgent."
Belle's expression changed.
Hetty stiffened.
Fagin muttered a curse.
Jack adjusted his collar.
The canon was shifting again.
"Let's not keep him waiting."
He opened the door, stepping forward—
already plotting.
Already calculating.
Already preparing to move the shadows of Port Victory one step closer to his version of the story.
Opening the Dead Man's Box
and Jack's New Group: The Shadows of St. Coccyx
The safe house was silent.
Fagin stood watch near the window.
Hetty sat cross-legged on the floor, sharpening one of Jack's improvised surgical tools.
Belle Fox watched Jack intensely, trying to understand the mind behind his calm determination.
The man who crafted prosthetic stumps—Mr. Broome, quiet, brilliant, loyal—worked in the corner, tinkering with springs and gears.
Jack placed the rusted metal box on the table.
Its clockwork gears clicked softly, as if the dead man's heart still beat inside it.
Belle folded her arms.
"Well? Are you going to open it?"
Jack breathed slowly.
Sun Breathing: Focused Precision.
A technique he used not for combat—
but to sharpen the mind.
He pulled a small toolkit from inside his coat.
Belle blinked.
"Where did you get that?"
"Made it."
"Made—? Jack, that looks like a full watchmaker's set—"
"Improvised," he said.
"Angus MacGyver style."
Hetty leaned forward with interest.
"Who's Angus?"
Jack smiled faintly.
"A man who survived anything with the tools he had…
and the wits he carried."
Fagin snorted.
"Sounds like you."
The Box Has a Trick
Jack worked methodically.
Gear.
Latch.
Hidden spring.
Pressure plate.
Mr. Broome recognized it instantly.
"That's a booby trap," he murmured.
"Crushed fingers at best. Explosion at worst."
Belle stepped back quickly.
Hetty grabbed Fagin's coat so he wouldn't wander too close.
Jack didn't flinch.
He slid a flattened scalpel into the second seam—
a trick he learned in his past life, refined in this one.
Click.
The gears stopped.
And the lid lifted open.
Inside lay:
A folded map
Burned at the edges.
Marked with routes used by the officers of Port Victory.
A ledger
Names. Amounts. Shipments. All in code.
A brass key
Stamped with the seal of the colonial treasury.
Belle inhaled sharply.
"This… this proves corruption."
Jack nodded.
"And shows where the opium shipments are hidden."
Hetty whispered:
"Jack… we could bring down half the colony with this."
"We could save it," Jack corrected.
Jack Forms the Group — Officially
He gathered them around.
Fagin. Hetty. Broome. Belle.
"Listen carefully," Jack said quietly.
"This box wasn't hidden by accident. Someone killed a man to keep this secret buried."
Belle swallowed hard.
"And we're going to expose it. Together."
Hetty nodded fiercely.
Broome lifted his prosthetic tool in silent agreement.
Belle hesitated—
but only for a moment.
Then she stepped closer.
"If this corruption threatens lives…
I'm with you."
Fagin grinned.
"Well then, Jackie-boy… what do we call ourselves?"
Jack didn't smile.
But the fire in his eyes was unmistakable.
"The Shadows of St. Coccyx."
"Because we work in the dark…
to protect those in the light."
Belle shivered.
Hetty smirked.
Broome simply tightened his apron.
Fagin laughed.
"Always did want to be part o' somethin' grand."