(Death warning, this explains a bit about Skinner's story, on Bones' part. Skinner is not my character.)

The brick streets of London clacked under my boots. I, dressed completely in black did not exactly stand out in the crowd, each and every one, mothers and fathers of whores or those who wanted some entertainment. I saw Steven's red face among the crowd. The wind whipped across the ground, catching powdery snow as it went. Gray was the sky, and cold was the day when the noose was fitted around the Captain's head. A bag covered her face-- filled with sorrow not so much for her own death but for capital punishment by the hands of those she hated most. The government.


The wooden handle was smooth on my gloved hand. My face hidden beneath a black shroud, it took me a moment to pull the sweet trigger. The hot, round bullet melted falling snow in mid air. A bubble of people clearing away from me, I lingered enough to see.... the scarlet, dripping circle that showed me my aim was true, and that the life of Captain Skinner, had come to an end. Within my soul I screamed hate, sorrow and all ungodly things into the cold air, but I was silent and stiff. The crowd gasped, screamed and then cheered as the lifeless body of Skinner dropped to the length of the rope and dangled there unmoving and silent.

I slipped out of sight, weaving my way through the medium sized-crowd a moment before it was too late to consider escape at the hands of the authorities.