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King's Cross Station, London, England, 2006
"He's killed again, Vex."
Vex stared at the grainy black-and-white photos, taken one hundred and eighteen years earlier, comparing them to full color photos taken last night. Detective Red O'Malley had no choice but to ask for his help. Vex was their last resort. He was used to dealing with the undead, whether it be of the bloodsucker variety or the elusive shifter-rapt; after all, he was a combination of the two.
"I don't understand," Vex mumbled, half to himself.
"We think it's the same guy," O'Malley added.
"Not just a copycat?"
"We have DNA to back it up."
Vex's head shot up as he looked the detective squarely in the eye. "Then why can't you bloody catch him?"
"We matched DNA from the Whitechapel murders to this murder, but back in 1888, there was no database in play. And so far, this guy's been clean. At least in this century."
"Where'd you get the DNA?"
"A piece of hair. Well, a tiny fragment of hair. Less than a centimeter, found trapped in the wax he sealed the letter with."
"The famous letter to the police? The one promising to kill again?" Vex asked, catching on quickly.
"Yes. For years the letter was thought to be a fake."
"DNA evidence is hard to dispute," Vex argued.
O'Malley nodded. "Particularly in this case. It's a perfect match."
"Where was the DNA evidence on the recent victim?"
"Semen? That's odd. Jack's never raped before," Vex replied, scratching his chin.
"Yeah, well he has now. Three times in a row."
"Looks like he still enjoys pulling out the intestines, uterus and organs," Vex added whileflipping through the photos.
"And mutilating the victim's face," O'Malley said, while pointing to a color photo of the most recent killing.
"I'd never taken Jack for a shifter-rapt."
"Explains why they never caught him," O'Malley mused.
Vex grunted as he flipped through the photos, comparing the old to the new, all of them eerily similar in method.
"Good Ole' Jack the Ripper. Who would've thought he'd resurface?"