Rain slicked the grimy cobblestones, reflecting the gaslight's hazy, yellow glow. A chilling breeze sliced through the alley, carrying the stench of stale beer and decay. Detective Miles Harding, a man worn by grief, clenched his jaw tightly. The call had arrived, urgent and grim, signaling another nocturnal tragedy. He pushed open the heavy iron gate, its rusty hinges groaning loudly. Beyond lay the scene, undoubtedly a fresh canvas of human depravity. A solitary figure stood there already, hunched beneath a large, black umbrella. This was always the worst part, that initial confrontation with the lifeless. Miles took a deep, fortifying breath, bracing for the inevitable horror. Another soul had departed this miserable world, violently and without mercy.