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You may call me Jack.

While I am a Ripper, yes, I am not that Jack. But, of course, as is the way of my kind, we rippers all aspire to achieve such greatness. One day, perhaps, one day. Not that the Jack I speak of was the first of our kind.

No, no, we have been around since humanity first soiled Eden.

Inside every person is a ripper waiting to get out.

Lucky for the populace, a true ripper is a rare occurrence,

almost, but never quite, a once-in-a-generation thing.

Sure, sure, there are these so-called serial killers out there, but they are not rippers,

simply predators with opposable thumbs. Do not get me wrong, many of these killers are quite good at what they do.

Obsessing over their victims, luring their victims, hunting their victims, killing their victims,

dismembering their victims, not necessarily in that order.

...