Post by JACK THE RIPPER on Dec 26, 2010 12:56:02 GMT -5
Hello! My name is Jill the Ripper (or Jill, or Izzi) and this is my first character, but certainly not my last. I found this site through my friend Leffie, who plays Christine on here. Something you should know about me is that I know pretty much everything there is to know about the Jack the Ripper case (excluding his identity).
Canon: OC…can’t go wrong with Jack.
Custom Title: Jack the Ripper
PHYSICAL
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: A sharp, prominent nose and thin lips that are almost constantly set into a smirk. Victor’s hair is an ebony-black, dark as his mind. His hair is always slightly messy, and he even wears it wet sometimes, though only if he’s in a hurry. The usual style is slicked back with some curls popping out. Wears modest sideburns. He carries himself with a slightly detached air, but not so much as to seem cold. Of course, he can be cold if he chooses. He sometimes approaches conversation timidly, as if he's gauging how the people around him are going to react.
Height: About 6 feet.
Body: Thin, muscular, but mostly in his arms.
Other distinguishing features: The eyes. Definitely the eyes. Piercing, really, and if he chooses to let you, you can see the very beginning of what’s bubbling in their depths. He has a really nasty scar on his upper arm. It's a habit that he scratches it or rubs his arm there. It's related to his first kill...but he always wears long sleeves. He has other scars on his stomach, but they're fading.
Wardrobe: Occasionally wears business suits, but he prefers to wear something like a button-down, jeans, and a coat, or maybe a long-sleeved shirt. For shoes, I would probably say either dress shoes or some kind of boots; he doesn't really do anything that would require sneakers. When he’s skulking around, he wears a heavy trench coat and a fedora; carries a briefcase on those nights.[/ul]
Play By: Richard Armitage
PERSONALITY
General personality: In public, Victor seems like the perfect man—someone you would want your daughter to marry; he’s charming, witty, and good looking. Well, you know what? So was Ted Bundy. He plays everyone he meets like a game of chess, be they around him most of the time or if they’re just entering his bar for a moment. Just under the surface, he is a vicious tornado of pent-up sexual stress, which he releases by killing women in the most degrading ways imaginable. Prostitutes, specifically, though he really could snuff anyone out if they threatened him in some way. Although he does kill them in his own special, terrifying way, he does not rape them; the killing is enough to satisfy him.
If you know him well enough, (and I use that loosely, because you will never know him) he will seem cold and impatient while around you. He may even lash out at you, whether it be physically or through words (though the latter is more likely). This is because he needs to keep a safe distance from you, emotionally; he doesn't like getting close to people, as he thinks it always ends badly. His main objective in this little game of his is to gain power over other people, anybody really, to make them smaller than him. He craves it. The game, though, is not just for his desire, but for the general public. He honestly believes that he is cleaning the streets, and thinks that the people in New York should be grateful for what he's doing. He even brags about it; he enjoys reading about his own crimes in the newspaper. He also sends letters to the families of women he’s ripped, and to the police, all under the alias “Jack the Ripper” (or he will; at first he didn't, then he started killing and came up with the name).
He hates being human, although he really is very human deep down, no matter how evil he is. His hatred toward women is deep-seated in his terrible relationship with his mother. He's tried to keep himself from feeling for so long, and it very frequently backfires on him. In his early life, he has history of mental breakdowns and just general instability. His main goal for himself is never to be weak, so he must never mean the emotions he shows. However, that's impossible, so he will never live up to his own standards. He is a failure in his eyes, but won't face that even by himself. He covers his insecurities by acting cocky and in-your-face yet reserved and polite at the same time in his letters; he doesn't feel this way though. He's not as cocky or confident as he makes himself out to be. He's actually quite frightened that he'll get caught.
He also has a long history of falling in love and then going "no, I can't do this" and totally dumping them (or in one case, killing them). He can love, but he's convinced that it's the weakest emotion that a human can have.
But, then, he's only human.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: A quote I find him saying often is: A quote I really like (and plan on using somewhere in the future) is: “There was no crime before me; I know this. There will be no crime after me; I will see to that.”
Likes:
Dislikes:
Strengths: Cunning, creative, witty, charming, is extremely manipulative (which could also be counted as a fault, but not really in his case).
Weaknesses: He is violent, he hates females in general (and I’m sure a fair amount of males as well), he…he rips out women’s intestines for god’s sake. There are a lot of faults in him, to say the very least. He also sometimes brags too much for his own good. But really, his weaknesses are far too many to count, and not just on a murderer level. He has so many problems.
BACKGROUND
Family: As far as he’s concerned, he had no family; he lived with his single mother in D.C. when he was a kid, and she was a piece of filth. They could have had a good life, but with her sleeping around, of course all of her boyfriends left them, one after another. If anyone asks, though, his parents were lawyers from Vermont. Only child, so far as he knows, or does not know any of his siblings.
Education: Victor did not have a very successful education when he was a kid, but when he detached himself from his mother, he started working at odd-jobs, learning a lot of little tidbits to build on his rather crappy highschool education. He finally had enough money to go to a college. Not an outstanding one, but a college nonetheless. He's so wealthy because of his savvy nature in climbing the social ladder; friends in the right places, etc...
Occupation: Victor is a tobacco/liquor wholesaler, and also the proprietor of a bar/restaurant called “Jack’s”. Jack’s is in Manhattan. He lives in a nice apartment in Brooklyn, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time there. His bar is high-end, so you can have dinner there too, things of that nature. There’s always some form of live entertainment. Funny how there aren’t any female servers, though…or if there ever were, they didn’t last long…
Worst past experience: There are a lot to choose from, but probably the worst past experience he ever had was his first kill. Why? That’s not any of your business.
Best past experience: Nights when, in his college days, he would sneak into the woods and scour medical journal upon medical journal…
Image: As mentioned before, he comes off as charming most of the time. Sometimes, though, he’s a little cold, though that more often than not has something to do with his sharp wit. He’s also plenty arrogant, but has that air about him that makes him seem like he deserves to be. Often, at his bar, he’ll go around and chat with his patrons, especially the ones he knows will bring in a lot of money in the future. As I mentioned, they are a game to him. But at the same time, I also mentioned his careful nature in public, tentative almost, as if he's calculating the consequences of every move.
History: I could fill you in, but most of the past Victor will tell you about it completely fabricated by him. He will tell you that his parents, the lawyers, lived in Vermont until he was twelve, then they moved to New York. He drifted into NYC after college and decided to set up “camp” there.
He’s a terrific liar.
This fake world he’s made just for you is a barrier, so that you can never really, truly get to know him; if you did, you would see just what he is. To him, it’s just natural not to trust people. And that’s just it; he trusts no one. He subconsciously chooses not too, but mostly because he’s incapable of doing so.
All in all, I cannot give a history, because he has so many histories; so many barriers. Besides, the past is in the past, no?
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
There was a scuttling noise, like a piece of paper being blown across pavement, and a small squeal of excitement as the little waitress’s tiny waist was roughly caught by Victor’s hands. The little girl was convinced she was in for a fun time…and she was; fun for him, anyway. His breathing ragged in her ear, he held her hips bones tight from behind her, and she gave out a loud giggle. Usually this sound would make him cringe internally , but, at the moment, it was the music of the unsuspecting prey…vulnerable, real, and all his. She pushed him away playfully, and he momentarily shook himself back into his senses. No—he would have to wait for the kill. If he let his bloodlust take over now, it would get away for sure. It would get away.
He straightened up, watching with heavy lids as it made its way over to the bar, picking up a discarded newspaper. “Ripper strikes again…downright shame, don’t you think?” it asked in its heavy Brooklyn accent.
“Mmph,” he replied tersely, attempting to keep himself under control. He’d been watching this one for awhile now, ever since he’d hired it; he had hired it for this moment and this moment alone. That was the only reason he ever hired women. Usually, he could keep calm when he was this close to a kill, but he had waited a bit too long for this one. The urge had started nudging him weeks before, and it just wouldn’t have been fun to kill it right away. Victor—no…Jack—liked to “play with his food”, so to speak. He could tell that it wanted him, perhaps even loved him, and that made the feeling even harder to hold back.
“You’re not very patient, are you, Mr. G?” it purred, approaching him. Looking over, he saw that he had, without noticing, reached over and began to clutch the counter of the bar in a death-grip.
“Shut up, bitch,” he snapped, his face turning toward the girl’s. He had never spoken to it like that, and it had never heard him speak to anyone else like that either. For a moment he saw confusion and hurt reflected in its light eyes, but it quickly turned to fear. Oh, dear god, the feeling was unbearable now.
After a long pause, it uttered, “Wh-what?”
Jack shivered visibly and sighed, only then able to let go of the bar. “Sorry, kid. Headache is all,” he murmured, trying to somehow make an excuse to get her outside. “Besides that, we shouldn’t out here. The mess and all.”
It swallowed, then nodded, accepting the fake headache. “Well, we could always go back to your place…”
His face lit up with an almost childish grin. “Yes, of course. My place. Why didn’t I think of that?” he hissed, looking down at the counter and then back up at the girl. This seemed to do the trick, as its face lit up with hope and it nodded. He pulled himself into a straighter posture and took it gruffly by the arm, offering a charming smirk. He could see something changing in its face…like it was melting right under his hand. It was his now, no going back.
He let it lead him to its death, as opposed to the other way around; the girl led him to the door and he, being always a gentleman, handed its coat to it. “Thanks,” it said, winking.
“No problem,” he said casually, pushing open the door while he waited for it. Eventually, it stopped fussing over its coat and joined him. After locking the closing and locking the doors, he turned back to it and smirked again. “Well, lead on. You know where my car is.” For the past month that the girl had been working there, Jack had always been parking his car just around the corner as opposed to in the rightful spot. Things had to be planned in advance, just for moments like these.
“Yeah,” it said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down the street. The alley was right there…right there. The little thing would just have to pull him a bit farther…
There. He adopted a devious look onto his face, nudging its arm. It looked up at him in question, but he just grinned wider, pulling it gently into the alley as if it had a daring, crazy plan. The girl followed him, but it was a bit cautious…he liked that. Let it be afraid; let it tremble in its shoes while on the arm of the Ripper.
Now he knew he had the girl right on target; he knew he could do anything he wanted to it and it wouldn’t—couldn’t—flee. Jack pushed it up against one of the hard, moist walls and ignored its muffled and confused protests. The velvety coat of fog that lined the walls and ground floated up to his knees and got him even more excited. This little one was tantalizing him; he hated it, but he loved every bit of it. His hand went from its shoulder to its neck, holding it there firmly but not hurting it. The fear there, in its eyes, was becoming unbearable for him again. He had to kill it, he had to!
He trembled with the effort it was taking him as the girl’s hands flew to the hand on its neck. Jack took a moment to look at her; oh, what beautiful creatures women would be if they weren’t whores and demons. It really was such a shame. “Pretty little thing,” he whispered, his breathing becoming ragged again, “Pretty little bitch.”
The girl winced at this name, but said nothing; bitch was a playful name that she and her friends threw back and forth. She had been called a bitch by men before…Victor was special…it wasn’t any worry, really. He was just very impatient, she reasoned. IT reasoned.
“Pretty little bitch,” he repeated under his breath, his lids getting heavy again as he was caught up in the scent of its fear. The long-awaited hunt was almost coming to the climax where he, being always a gentleman, would escort the little woman from this life and into the next. His thumb traced the little thing’s windpipe gently as his other hand traced the serrated edge of his knife. “Pretty little slut…” he hissed finally, his smirk becoming a sneer for a mere second.
It had since figured out what was happening, the smart thing. “No…no, please, Victor, please don’t hurt me!” it squeaked, clutching his wrist desperately. “Please, please! I love you!”
To hear it beg like that was the end. He forced it to its knees. “Pretty little slut!” he sang playfully, a wild grin replacing his smirk, “Pretty little WHORE!”
The knife came up and then ran effectively across its throat before it could even see it. A faint choking noise came to him through the fog as the piece of meat became limper and limper by the second in his hand, and he knelt down. “No one will miss you,” he whispered in its dying ear, a warm feeling creeping up inside him when he realized how true it was. It was why he had picked this one specifically.
Jack did not wait for it to expire before he set to work. He propped it against the wall so that it wouldn’t choke on its own blood before he began his fun. He discarded the black dress pants; they would just get in the way of his knife, all that harsh fabric. After they were gone, there was a long pause, and then without warning, he stuck the girl just below the breastbone, tilting his knife in anticipation for the real work ahead of him. In a moment, he was sawing through the skin, down, down, down, past the stomach and to the edge of the pelvic bone, as the blood pooled and trickled and spurted from one divine fountain. With one fluid motion, he tore the skin open further to get a better look. The wild grin never left his blood-spattered face.
The body hunched over, the pale, glassy eyes staring straight at Jack. He hated that—as if she was still there with him! Grunting, he moved the body into a laying position, moving aside the flesh of the belly and searching with his hands. He knew where everything was just by touch—the job was easy, and relatively quick. In a moment, the steaming-hot intestines were out of the body; he took a moment to admire them and then tossed them out of the way. Again, he plunged both arms into her torso, searching for one specific piece. The search was not long; his hand finally found the very edge of her ribcage and slipped under it, his other hand tearing away at the skin to give him a better view. With his knife, he began to carefully pluck out her liver.
He pulled away once he had the liver, the breath in his throat heavy, and examined it. A tingling in his stomach had begun to spread, so that now he was nearly bouncing in excitement. The fun wasn’t over yet. Jack shoved the liver into the large pocket of his trench coat, his arms now drenched up to the elbow in a thick, slow coat of blood. His eyes slowly roamed to the pool of this same liquid around his knees and he shivered, closing his eyes against the unforgivable throb between his legs. His hand scrambled for the knife again and he placed one trembling hand on the freezing thigh of the body that still lay in front of him.
A short, rusty laughter escaped his throat, and he licked his lips as he snapped the elastic on the body’s undergarments. He pulled his arm back a moment, pausing, and then plunged his knife into the body again so that it was up to the hilt in what was probably the bladder. A jolt of electricity went through his body as he ripped her, shoveling the gore out from between her legs with his hands and the flat edge of his blade. The excitement built and built as he dug and dug…It had been worth the wait.
The chunky remains of her reproductive tract lay in a neat pile near her knees once he was finished. Jack was now on his feet, peeling off the completely soaked-through leather gloves and stuffing them in his pocket. His smirk had disappeared, replaced by a repulsed sneer. One blood-caked hand swept back the hair that had sprung loose as he worked, leaving his hair matted. The fun was done, and now he had to clean up after himself. Ah, yes. The only downside to planned killings was where he was to hide the body. No family would miss her, but if they found her body out here, they would look to him first thing.
Jack looked back down at the body and noticed those eyes again, still staring at him in their still, cold horror. He growled under his breath as he knelt, “I always did admire your big, doe-eyes. Too bad you were blind, no matter how big they were.” He picked up his knife again and proceeded to blind her eternally. The gaze was too much for him.
When he stood up again, he took the remains with him, the parts he had pushed away all piled into the hollowed-out abdomen like some sort of hellish casserole. The crawl-space he had worked on for a near month was just across the alley, a tiny hole just big enough to stuff a body in in the side of the neighboring building, hidden behind a rather impressive pile of bricks and other debris. No one would find her in time to identify her, that much was certain. He dragged her there and slowly uncovered the crawl space, crumpling the body up like last week’s newspaper and pushing it in as far as it would go.
Once he had built up the pile concealing his little secret, he briefly glanced over at the stain he’d left, which showed even under the thick fog. “Let the police take care of that one,” he muttered to himself, picking up his knife and wiping it on his sleeve.
They could take care of it, but they could never cure it. Jack the Ripper would only be caught when he wanted to be, and nothing they did could ever change that. The police thought that they were chasing after him, when really it was the other way around.
The monster kicked away the fog that was clinging to his heals and then set off, covered in blood and yet completely calm; those fools were playing in the House of the Master now…and for him, the deck was always stacked.
(Note…my posts are most definitely not that long. This is as violent as I get, so I guess I’m kind of just setting my boundaries with this sample.)
(Also, I'm aware that I didn't keep the "it", "she", "the", thing consistent. It all depended on how he saw her at the time.)
Tell us WHY your original character would fit with the theme of this board:
Alright, well, I strongly believe that every great city should have someone to strike fear into it. Of course, there are other murderous characters, but Jack the Ripper was a real murderer, as most of you probably know. If you read the three letters that are most likely sent by the actual Ripper, there’s this arrogant, cocky voice to it. He’s leading on the police, he wants to see them try and catch him because he knows they can’t. I think NYC deserves a killer like that. The Jack the Ripper story can really be modified to fit any time period or place on earth, so it’s quite easy to modernize it.
Also, as I mentioned before, Jack the Ripper was a real guy (we don’t know his name or history or anything, so I just made one up, but that’s beside the point). So, he wasn’t a character, but I think I would certainly count him as a classic HISTORICAL character. I mean, the very first publicized serial killer is pretty important, in my mind. He’s become a legend basically, so it’s almost as though he’s a fictional character.
I also think he would add a nice, serrated edge to this beautiful forum we have here. I mean, wouldn’t it be just awesome to have whole threads dedicated to him hunting down one specific person? Or even to have him write letters to the police! Leaving tantalizing little notes for the police department, sending letters to families of women he rips? It would be so much fun! …I mean…my sick, twisted idea of fun.
So, yes. I believe that Victor would fit in well here.
Victor Griffiths
High Class
High Class
Canon: OC…can’t go wrong with Jack.
Custom Title: Jack the Ripper
PHYSICAL
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: A sharp, prominent nose and thin lips that are almost constantly set into a smirk. Victor’s hair is an ebony-black, dark as his mind. His hair is always slightly messy, and he even wears it wet sometimes, though only if he’s in a hurry. The usual style is slicked back with some curls popping out. Wears modest sideburns. He carries himself with a slightly detached air, but not so much as to seem cold. Of course, he can be cold if he chooses. He sometimes approaches conversation timidly, as if he's gauging how the people around him are going to react.
Height: About 6 feet.
Body: Thin, muscular, but mostly in his arms.
Other distinguishing features: The eyes. Definitely the eyes. Piercing, really, and if he chooses to let you, you can see the very beginning of what’s bubbling in their depths. He has a really nasty scar on his upper arm. It's a habit that he scratches it or rubs his arm there. It's related to his first kill...but he always wears long sleeves. He has other scars on his stomach, but they're fading.
Wardrobe: Occasionally wears business suits, but he prefers to wear something like a button-down, jeans, and a coat, or maybe a long-sleeved shirt. For shoes, I would probably say either dress shoes or some kind of boots; he doesn't really do anything that would require sneakers. When he’s skulking around, he wears a heavy trench coat and a fedora; carries a briefcase on those nights.[/ul]
Play By: Richard Armitage
PERSONALITY
General personality: In public, Victor seems like the perfect man—someone you would want your daughter to marry; he’s charming, witty, and good looking. Well, you know what? So was Ted Bundy. He plays everyone he meets like a game of chess, be they around him most of the time or if they’re just entering his bar for a moment. Just under the surface, he is a vicious tornado of pent-up sexual stress, which he releases by killing women in the most degrading ways imaginable. Prostitutes, specifically, though he really could snuff anyone out if they threatened him in some way. Although he does kill them in his own special, terrifying way, he does not rape them; the killing is enough to satisfy him.
If you know him well enough, (and I use that loosely, because you will never know him) he will seem cold and impatient while around you. He may even lash out at you, whether it be physically or through words (though the latter is more likely). This is because he needs to keep a safe distance from you, emotionally; he doesn't like getting close to people, as he thinks it always ends badly. His main objective in this little game of his is to gain power over other people, anybody really, to make them smaller than him. He craves it. The game, though, is not just for his desire, but for the general public. He honestly believes that he is cleaning the streets, and thinks that the people in New York should be grateful for what he's doing. He even brags about it; he enjoys reading about his own crimes in the newspaper. He also sends letters to the families of women he’s ripped, and to the police, all under the alias “Jack the Ripper” (or he will; at first he didn't, then he started killing and came up with the name).
He hates being human, although he really is very human deep down, no matter how evil he is. His hatred toward women is deep-seated in his terrible relationship with his mother. He's tried to keep himself from feeling for so long, and it very frequently backfires on him. In his early life, he has history of mental breakdowns and just general instability. His main goal for himself is never to be weak, so he must never mean the emotions he shows. However, that's impossible, so he will never live up to his own standards. He is a failure in his eyes, but won't face that even by himself. He covers his insecurities by acting cocky and in-your-face yet reserved and polite at the same time in his letters; he doesn't feel this way though. He's not as cocky or confident as he makes himself out to be. He's actually quite frightened that he'll get caught.
He also has a long history of falling in love and then going "no, I can't do this" and totally dumping them (or in one case, killing them). He can love, but he's convinced that it's the weakest emotion that a human can have.
But, then, he's only human.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: A quote I find him saying often is: A quote I really like (and plan on using somewhere in the future) is: “There was no crime before me; I know this. There will be no crime after me; I will see to that.”
Likes:
- Having power/control over people…so he really loves blackmail and things of that nature.
- Medical science, anything having to do with surgery or anatomy (especially female anatomy, and I mean that literally).
- Classical music, specifically Beethoven because…well, why the hell not?
- “Unofficial surgeries”.
- Playing his game with everyone he meets…what fun.
- And, of course, for the public, he loves his country and being over-all delightful to be around.
Dislikes:
- Whores, as in sluts.
- Whores, as in legitimate whores, as in prostitutes.
- He really hates repetitive noise, such as whistles or bells. They make him get all twitchy.
- Winter, and everything having to do with it; snow, Christmas, everything.
- Mozart, believe it or not. He believes he’s too over-rated. (He’s a very critical person.)
- Women in general; he thinks they’re all whores. Generally, he sees them as either clingy/annoying or as worthless whores. But of course he doesn’t act like that in public…it only occasionally shines through. When he does sleep with a woman, it's more for the sexual excitement and adrenaline. This is why he would sleep with a man if it came right down to it, even not being gay.
Strengths: Cunning, creative, witty, charming, is extremely manipulative (which could also be counted as a fault, but not really in his case).
Weaknesses: He is violent, he hates females in general (and I’m sure a fair amount of males as well), he…he rips out women’s intestines for god’s sake. There are a lot of faults in him, to say the very least. He also sometimes brags too much for his own good. But really, his weaknesses are far too many to count, and not just on a murderer level. He has so many problems.
BACKGROUND
Family: As far as he’s concerned, he had no family; he lived with his single mother in D.C. when he was a kid, and she was a piece of filth. They could have had a good life, but with her sleeping around, of course all of her boyfriends left them, one after another. If anyone asks, though, his parents were lawyers from Vermont. Only child, so far as he knows, or does not know any of his siblings.
Education: Victor did not have a very successful education when he was a kid, but when he detached himself from his mother, he started working at odd-jobs, learning a lot of little tidbits to build on his rather crappy highschool education. He finally had enough money to go to a college. Not an outstanding one, but a college nonetheless. He's so wealthy because of his savvy nature in climbing the social ladder; friends in the right places, etc...
Occupation: Victor is a tobacco/liquor wholesaler, and also the proprietor of a bar/restaurant called “Jack’s”. Jack’s is in Manhattan. He lives in a nice apartment in Brooklyn, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time there. His bar is high-end, so you can have dinner there too, things of that nature. There’s always some form of live entertainment. Funny how there aren’t any female servers, though…or if there ever were, they didn’t last long…
Worst past experience: There are a lot to choose from, but probably the worst past experience he ever had was his first kill. Why? That’s not any of your business.
Best past experience: Nights when, in his college days, he would sneak into the woods and scour medical journal upon medical journal…
Image: As mentioned before, he comes off as charming most of the time. Sometimes, though, he’s a little cold, though that more often than not has something to do with his sharp wit. He’s also plenty arrogant, but has that air about him that makes him seem like he deserves to be. Often, at his bar, he’ll go around and chat with his patrons, especially the ones he knows will bring in a lot of money in the future. As I mentioned, they are a game to him. But at the same time, I also mentioned his careful nature in public, tentative almost, as if he's calculating the consequences of every move.
History: I could fill you in, but most of the past Victor will tell you about it completely fabricated by him. He will tell you that his parents, the lawyers, lived in Vermont until he was twelve, then they moved to New York. He drifted into NYC after college and decided to set up “camp” there.
He’s a terrific liar.
This fake world he’s made just for you is a barrier, so that you can never really, truly get to know him; if you did, you would see just what he is. To him, it’s just natural not to trust people. And that’s just it; he trusts no one. He subconsciously chooses not too, but mostly because he’s incapable of doing so.
All in all, I cannot give a history, because he has so many histories; so many barriers. Besides, the past is in the past, no?
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
There was a scuttling noise, like a piece of paper being blown across pavement, and a small squeal of excitement as the little waitress’s tiny waist was roughly caught by Victor’s hands. The little girl was convinced she was in for a fun time…and she was; fun for him, anyway. His breathing ragged in her ear, he held her hips bones tight from behind her, and she gave out a loud giggle. Usually this sound would make him cringe internally , but, at the moment, it was the music of the unsuspecting prey…vulnerable, real, and all his. She pushed him away playfully, and he momentarily shook himself back into his senses. No—he would have to wait for the kill. If he let his bloodlust take over now, it would get away for sure. It would get away.
He straightened up, watching with heavy lids as it made its way over to the bar, picking up a discarded newspaper. “Ripper strikes again…downright shame, don’t you think?” it asked in its heavy Brooklyn accent.
“Mmph,” he replied tersely, attempting to keep himself under control. He’d been watching this one for awhile now, ever since he’d hired it; he had hired it for this moment and this moment alone. That was the only reason he ever hired women. Usually, he could keep calm when he was this close to a kill, but he had waited a bit too long for this one. The urge had started nudging him weeks before, and it just wouldn’t have been fun to kill it right away. Victor—no…Jack—liked to “play with his food”, so to speak. He could tell that it wanted him, perhaps even loved him, and that made the feeling even harder to hold back.
“You’re not very patient, are you, Mr. G?” it purred, approaching him. Looking over, he saw that he had, without noticing, reached over and began to clutch the counter of the bar in a death-grip.
“Shut up, bitch,” he snapped, his face turning toward the girl’s. He had never spoken to it like that, and it had never heard him speak to anyone else like that either. For a moment he saw confusion and hurt reflected in its light eyes, but it quickly turned to fear. Oh, dear god, the feeling was unbearable now.
After a long pause, it uttered, “Wh-what?”
Jack shivered visibly and sighed, only then able to let go of the bar. “Sorry, kid. Headache is all,” he murmured, trying to somehow make an excuse to get her outside. “Besides that, we shouldn’t out here. The mess and all.”
It swallowed, then nodded, accepting the fake headache. “Well, we could always go back to your place…”
His face lit up with an almost childish grin. “Yes, of course. My place. Why didn’t I think of that?” he hissed, looking down at the counter and then back up at the girl. This seemed to do the trick, as its face lit up with hope and it nodded. He pulled himself into a straighter posture and took it gruffly by the arm, offering a charming smirk. He could see something changing in its face…like it was melting right under his hand. It was his now, no going back.
He let it lead him to its death, as opposed to the other way around; the girl led him to the door and he, being always a gentleman, handed its coat to it. “Thanks,” it said, winking.
“No problem,” he said casually, pushing open the door while he waited for it. Eventually, it stopped fussing over its coat and joined him. After locking the closing and locking the doors, he turned back to it and smirked again. “Well, lead on. You know where my car is.” For the past month that the girl had been working there, Jack had always been parking his car just around the corner as opposed to in the rightful spot. Things had to be planned in advance, just for moments like these.
“Yeah,” it said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down the street. The alley was right there…right there. The little thing would just have to pull him a bit farther…
There. He adopted a devious look onto his face, nudging its arm. It looked up at him in question, but he just grinned wider, pulling it gently into the alley as if it had a daring, crazy plan. The girl followed him, but it was a bit cautious…he liked that. Let it be afraid; let it tremble in its shoes while on the arm of the Ripper.
Now he knew he had the girl right on target; he knew he could do anything he wanted to it and it wouldn’t—couldn’t—flee. Jack pushed it up against one of the hard, moist walls and ignored its muffled and confused protests. The velvety coat of fog that lined the walls and ground floated up to his knees and got him even more excited. This little one was tantalizing him; he hated it, but he loved every bit of it. His hand went from its shoulder to its neck, holding it there firmly but not hurting it. The fear there, in its eyes, was becoming unbearable for him again. He had to kill it, he had to!
He trembled with the effort it was taking him as the girl’s hands flew to the hand on its neck. Jack took a moment to look at her; oh, what beautiful creatures women would be if they weren’t whores and demons. It really was such a shame. “Pretty little thing,” he whispered, his breathing becoming ragged again, “Pretty little bitch.”
The girl winced at this name, but said nothing; bitch was a playful name that she and her friends threw back and forth. She had been called a bitch by men before…Victor was special…it wasn’t any worry, really. He was just very impatient, she reasoned. IT reasoned.
“Pretty little bitch,” he repeated under his breath, his lids getting heavy again as he was caught up in the scent of its fear. The long-awaited hunt was almost coming to the climax where he, being always a gentleman, would escort the little woman from this life and into the next. His thumb traced the little thing’s windpipe gently as his other hand traced the serrated edge of his knife. “Pretty little slut…” he hissed finally, his smirk becoming a sneer for a mere second.
It had since figured out what was happening, the smart thing. “No…no, please, Victor, please don’t hurt me!” it squeaked, clutching his wrist desperately. “Please, please! I love you!”
To hear it beg like that was the end. He forced it to its knees. “Pretty little slut!” he sang playfully, a wild grin replacing his smirk, “Pretty little WHORE!”
The knife came up and then ran effectively across its throat before it could even see it. A faint choking noise came to him through the fog as the piece of meat became limper and limper by the second in his hand, and he knelt down. “No one will miss you,” he whispered in its dying ear, a warm feeling creeping up inside him when he realized how true it was. It was why he had picked this one specifically.
Jack did not wait for it to expire before he set to work. He propped it against the wall so that it wouldn’t choke on its own blood before he began his fun. He discarded the black dress pants; they would just get in the way of his knife, all that harsh fabric. After they were gone, there was a long pause, and then without warning, he stuck the girl just below the breastbone, tilting his knife in anticipation for the real work ahead of him. In a moment, he was sawing through the skin, down, down, down, past the stomach and to the edge of the pelvic bone, as the blood pooled and trickled and spurted from one divine fountain. With one fluid motion, he tore the skin open further to get a better look. The wild grin never left his blood-spattered face.
The body hunched over, the pale, glassy eyes staring straight at Jack. He hated that—as if she was still there with him! Grunting, he moved the body into a laying position, moving aside the flesh of the belly and searching with his hands. He knew where everything was just by touch—the job was easy, and relatively quick. In a moment, the steaming-hot intestines were out of the body; he took a moment to admire them and then tossed them out of the way. Again, he plunged both arms into her torso, searching for one specific piece. The search was not long; his hand finally found the very edge of her ribcage and slipped under it, his other hand tearing away at the skin to give him a better view. With his knife, he began to carefully pluck out her liver.
He pulled away once he had the liver, the breath in his throat heavy, and examined it. A tingling in his stomach had begun to spread, so that now he was nearly bouncing in excitement. The fun wasn’t over yet. Jack shoved the liver into the large pocket of his trench coat, his arms now drenched up to the elbow in a thick, slow coat of blood. His eyes slowly roamed to the pool of this same liquid around his knees and he shivered, closing his eyes against the unforgivable throb between his legs. His hand scrambled for the knife again and he placed one trembling hand on the freezing thigh of the body that still lay in front of him.
A short, rusty laughter escaped his throat, and he licked his lips as he snapped the elastic on the body’s undergarments. He pulled his arm back a moment, pausing, and then plunged his knife into the body again so that it was up to the hilt in what was probably the bladder. A jolt of electricity went through his body as he ripped her, shoveling the gore out from between her legs with his hands and the flat edge of his blade. The excitement built and built as he dug and dug…It had been worth the wait.
The chunky remains of her reproductive tract lay in a neat pile near her knees once he was finished. Jack was now on his feet, peeling off the completely soaked-through leather gloves and stuffing them in his pocket. His smirk had disappeared, replaced by a repulsed sneer. One blood-caked hand swept back the hair that had sprung loose as he worked, leaving his hair matted. The fun was done, and now he had to clean up after himself. Ah, yes. The only downside to planned killings was where he was to hide the body. No family would miss her, but if they found her body out here, they would look to him first thing.
Jack looked back down at the body and noticed those eyes again, still staring at him in their still, cold horror. He growled under his breath as he knelt, “I always did admire your big, doe-eyes. Too bad you were blind, no matter how big they were.” He picked up his knife again and proceeded to blind her eternally. The gaze was too much for him.
When he stood up again, he took the remains with him, the parts he had pushed away all piled into the hollowed-out abdomen like some sort of hellish casserole. The crawl-space he had worked on for a near month was just across the alley, a tiny hole just big enough to stuff a body in in the side of the neighboring building, hidden behind a rather impressive pile of bricks and other debris. No one would find her in time to identify her, that much was certain. He dragged her there and slowly uncovered the crawl space, crumpling the body up like last week’s newspaper and pushing it in as far as it would go.
Once he had built up the pile concealing his little secret, he briefly glanced over at the stain he’d left, which showed even under the thick fog. “Let the police take care of that one,” he muttered to himself, picking up his knife and wiping it on his sleeve.
They could take care of it, but they could never cure it. Jack the Ripper would only be caught when he wanted to be, and nothing they did could ever change that. The police thought that they were chasing after him, when really it was the other way around.
The monster kicked away the fog that was clinging to his heals and then set off, covered in blood and yet completely calm; those fools were playing in the House of the Master now…and for him, the deck was always stacked.
(Note…my posts are most definitely not that long. This is as violent as I get, so I guess I’m kind of just setting my boundaries with this sample.)
(Also, I'm aware that I didn't keep the "it", "she", "the", thing consistent. It all depended on how he saw her at the time.)
Tell us WHY your original character would fit with the theme of this board:
Alright, well, I strongly believe that every great city should have someone to strike fear into it. Of course, there are other murderous characters, but Jack the Ripper was a real murderer, as most of you probably know. If you read the three letters that are most likely sent by the actual Ripper, there’s this arrogant, cocky voice to it. He’s leading on the police, he wants to see them try and catch him because he knows they can’t. I think NYC deserves a killer like that. The Jack the Ripper story can really be modified to fit any time period or place on earth, so it’s quite easy to modernize it.
Also, as I mentioned before, Jack the Ripper was a real guy (we don’t know his name or history or anything, so I just made one up, but that’s beside the point). So, he wasn’t a character, but I think I would certainly count him as a classic HISTORICAL character. I mean, the very first publicized serial killer is pretty important, in my mind. He’s become a legend basically, so it’s almost as though he’s a fictional character.
I also think he would add a nice, serrated edge to this beautiful forum we have here. I mean, wouldn’t it be just awesome to have whole threads dedicated to him hunting down one specific person? Or even to have him write letters to the police! Leaving tantalizing little notes for the police department, sending letters to families of women he rips? It would be so much fun! …I mean…my sick, twisted idea of fun.
So, yes. I believe that Victor would fit in well here.
