The Murder King (A First Draft)

In Which I Meet A Copy Cat

        It's about time I introduced some new characters to my story.  So without further ado, The Ripper. 

*** 

January 1, 2009 

        It was my fifth shot.  I knew that I should stop.  I was already hammered...  "Wasn't that what I wanted?" I questioned aloud.  "Of course it isn't," the mysterious reply echoed from a dark corner, "You were only drinking because you know you shouldn't."  "Well damn.  I should kill you because you figured that out!" I stammered.  "Well of course!  The only reason I hunted you down was to die," the mystery voice answered, "Why else would anyone try to find the infamous Damien?"  "You know, bud.  I think I like you," in my drunken state it made sense to spare, maybe even befriend this poor, suicidal man, "What's your name?" 

        I watch as what can only be described as a walking skeleton emerges from the corner.  His hair is plastered to his head.  His eyes are sunken into his skull and they are a dull grey.  His skin is pasty pale, nothing like the ivory of Joshua's.  But he also had that look that said, "I've seen things you can't imagine."  The killing look.  The Medusa Glare. Whatever you want to call it, he had it.  Joshua has it.  And I have it. 

        His slow reply seeps between parched lips, "I'm Jack." 

        "Oh, I can help you there." 

*** 

        As any avid follower of my cases will know, Jack became one of my most constant companions and accomplices.  He was never was very original, though.  But some of the best killers were copy cats.