It wasn’t just odd for Riley to be back in this place, it was downright disturbing. There were a lot of things to be disturbed by in that part of town that had nothing in particular to do with a crazed serial killer looking for his last victim, but that only served to amplify the disturbance. For starters, that whole area felt like the Wild West. There was a non-existent police presence, criminality everywhere you laid your eyes and, most disturbing of all to Riley, a huge population of minors engaged in selling their bodies to the highest bidder. 

It was that last part that stuck with him. It was sad to say that he was desensitized to the drugs, the gambling, and the theft, but it was a fact of years of policing in New York City. He was even desensitized to women selling their bodies. But it was the sight of such young girls engaged in that action that made his chest tighten up every time he looked to his left or right. The girls looked like juniors and seniors in high school, and all of them had a pimp somewhere in the periphery looming over them, waiting for their product to make them money. The whole enterprise made Riley sick, but what was even worse than solicitation was the image of one of these girls dying under the knife of some monster, a short life cut even shorter by a depraved psychopath looking for thrills. He vowed that they’d catch him tonight. 

It was hardly an intervention force, but five was better than two. And not only five, it was five of New York’s finest. Calem, Jesse, Quinn, Noah and Riley—five friends, five brothers, five men devoted to keeping the city safe from monsters like the Ripper—together again, determined to rid the city of its vermin. But it wasn’t going to be easy. Quinn had the most tactical experience with things like this. A former Navy SEAL, Quinn’s special ops training was tailor made for this kind of operation. A small, elite team, a single target, and difficult environments to navigate within. It was SEAL Missions 101, and because of that Riley had put his ego aside and allowed Quinn to make a majority of the tactical plans. But when the time came, the bust was Riley’s as he was the only one with jurisdiction. 

The plan was as follows: they’d spread out over the small area in which all of the previous killings had taken place,, and they would coordinate the entire time. Riley, for his part, would spread out a little past the half mile radius, only because the killer had identified him, and might try to claim his last victim outside of the area he knew police might be watching. It wasn’t complicated, but it didn’t have to be. They each coordinated and spread out in plain clothes, communicating via wire when necessary. The hard part was going to be the waiting, and counting on the Ripper to make a critical error, but anything was possible.

It was just getting dark when they arrived. Just like when he had done the stake out with Emily, they’d parked far enough away so as to not draw any extra attention to themselves. And, just like before they’d all worn plain clothes so as to blend in as much as possible with their surroundings. Riley was a giveaway. Once they were all in their positions there was nothing left to do but wait. 

Waiting.

That was a skill in and of itself. Waiting for a crime to be committed wasn’t like it was on the TV cop shows. On those it barely took ten seconds before a scream or a gunshot rang out, and then all it took was the cops who were sitting in the car, drinking too much coffee, to run across the street and catch the bad guys. In reality those ten TV minutes could equal days of waiting around while literally nothing happened. And oftentimes it never did. Riley was sure it wouldn’t be that way this time, but the truth was that he just didn’t know. The ‘Dear Boss’ letter he’d sent to Emily at the hospital might have been truthful, but then again it might have been a way to throw the cops off so he could kill somewhere else. But Riley didn’t think so. Something in his gut told him that this guy was brazen, and that the thrill of claiming his last victim right under the eyes of the police would be a thrill he couldn’t resist. 

Hours passed. Riley was on foot and so were the rest of them, so they each wandered around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible without seeming too obvious. He stood out, but he knew how to blend in and not attract too much attention to himself. “Anything?” he asked into his mic.

“Nothing here.” 

“Nothing.”

“Nada.”

“Zilch,” Calem said. “Still looking.”

“Great!” Riley was getting impatient. He’d been on longer stake outs—much longer ones—but this was unbearable. He was anxious, anticipating any little thing escalating into a larger crime, and it was taking a toll on his energy. After about another thirty minutes, though, a sound rang out over the wire. It was Quinn’s voice.

“I have something here that sparked my interest. Might be nothing.”

“What is it?” Riley asked.

“White male, early thirties, picking up a very young looking girl.”

“So what? Why is that striking your interest?”

“The look,” Quinn said. “There’s something about the look in his eyes. I’ve seen it before. It’s hard to describe, it’s a read on my part.”

Riley trusted Quinn’s gut more than he trusted his own, so something told him to follow up. “Okay, which direction is he headed?”

“Towards you, actually. Driving a blue Toyota Corolla, a few years old.”

If the guy Quinn saw was the Ripper, then Riley knew that he wouldn’t be headed to a motel. The real last Ripper victim was killed in an apartment, and if this new Ripper cared about such details then securing the motels in the area would be a waste of time. Instead Riley was out in front of a bodega surrounded by drug dealers playing the role of a junkie, but he was really on alert looking for the car Quinn had described over the wire. It was pretty dark in the area and hard to see. There weren’t too many businesses or lights so it was difficult to perceive the color of cars if they weren’t bright, but he kept his eyes on the lookout.

He stood there for what seemed like forever, the car Quinn noted never appearing. Riley got discouraged, but he knew that it probably wasn’t going to be that easy. Cars and SUV’s were parked all over the place with hookers and Johns inside of them, so he knew the likelihood of that particular car coming around was unlikely. He continued to wait, as they all did, communicating from time to time only to check in with one another, none of them actually seeing anything. Riley’s anxiety continued to grow, but he knew that there was nothing he could do except wait. 

Then, as often happens, the situation changed on a dime. The scream was bloodcurdling, the type of thing that you stereotypically hear in a slasher film when a young girl is about to be killed, only this was very real. Riley’s head shot around and then his body followed. Just behind the very bodega he was standing in front of was an apartment complex that was abandoned. It looked like the type of building where homeless people and junkies would squat. Riley hadn’t seen anyone go past him, but he knew that there were likely other ways into the building. A second scream rang out, and he knew that he had to act without thought. “Corner of Graham and Concord, abandoned apartments behind bodega, come now!”

Those were the only words he could form, and he formed them while running towards the building. The two screams had been only seconds apart, and Riley knew instinctually that there might not be a third. He could hear less obvious sounds, like fighting and scuffling as he approached the building. His gun was drawn, and his entire body went into fight or flight—that biochemical fear response that allowed one’s body to do things that weren’t possible in a resting state. He entered the building through the front door, and a third scream, less audible than the first, could be heard down the hallway. It was coming from the ground floor, so he ran towards the sound while pointing his gun in the general direction of the sounds. 

When he turned the corner he saw it happening. A young girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen, pressed against the back wall of a hallway, screaming. In front of her was the Ripper. Riley could see the knife in his hand. It was larger than he thought, and so was the man himself. He was well over six feet, and made a striking and terrifying figure. Riley didn’t have time for fear, however, he just acted out of instinct. The Ripper turned and their eyes met. The Ripper’s were crazed, yet controlled, and now Riley saw that he held a weapon in each of his hands, and who knew how many on his person. Riley stopped a few feet away, thinking not only of stopping the Ripper, but of saving the trapped girl standing behind him. 

“There you are, Boss. Finally.” His voice was deep, and he was wearing a black hoodie over his imposing frame. Over that he wore a trench coat. It was the perfect outfit for concealing weapons, and Riley immediately took note of the blades. He had his gun, of course, but if he needed to get into close quarter combat with this lunatic, he needed a plan. 

“Here I am. Let the girl go, it’s over.”

“Oh no, no, no, Boss. It’s only just begun.”

Riley raised his gun and pointed it at the Ripper. He wasn’t a marksman by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a good shot, and he was fully prepared to put this man down at any second. “Listen to me, man. This. Is. Over. Put the weapon down, lay down on the floor, and interlock your hands behind your back. That’s the only way this ends with you still alive.”

The Ripper started laughing uncontrollably. It was a surreal moment. “Alive? Stupid cop, what makes you think I want to get out of here alive?” 

“To be honest, man, I don’t care either way. In fact, I’d prefer your sick ass get carried out of here, but that’s up to you. The only think I do know is that you’re not going to hurt anyone else. No fuckin’ way.”

“Is that right?” The Ripper looked at Riley, and then turned to look at the trembling girl whose back was still up against the wall. He turned back to Riley and smiled a devious and evil smile. He saw the Ripper grip both knifes tightly, and just then he realized what was going to happen. The Ripper turned towards the trapped woman, raised his weapons and charged. Riley didn’t think, and he didn’t hesitate. He raised his gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening in such close quarters, but Riley didn’t even notice. The woman cowered and started screaming, and the Ripper fell to the ground, face first. Riley ran over and waived for the girl to step over the body and leave, which she did. 

At that exact moment Riley heard the calls of the other guys in the distance. “I’m in here,” he shouted back. “First floor. Follow my voice.” While he waited he walked over to the Ripper’s body and stood over it. There was no movement at first, and Riley turned his head to the sound of his friends approaching the scene. He heard Noah’s voice, in particular, call out his name, and he once again shouted, “I’m in here!”

The next sensation wasn’t perceived by his ears, but by his leg, after the Ripper reached up. The next feeling was a slash across his shin, followed by the sounds of his own screams. Riley dropped to the ground as the Ripper held onto his leg with one hand, and continued to haphazardly slash with his knife. The other guys, seeing what was happening, picked up their pace to reach their friend, but a lot could happen in a few seconds. Riley used his other leg to kick at the Ripper’s face, hitting him in the hand that was doing the slashing, and then finally in the face, causing him to drop the knife. Riley had dropped his gun in the scuffle and was frantically reaching for it while the wounded Ripper recovered and reached for his other knife. It was an intense game of seconds, and for one of those seconds Riley had to turn his body away from his attacker to reach for his gun. It was a calculated risk, but one that he had to make to save his life, it was just a matter of which of them would be faster. To his surprise, it was the Ripper. He felt the blade again, only this time it wasn’t a slash, it was a stab, and it punctured his leg like it was butter.

He screamed, furiously, but never stopped reaching for his gun. To his amazement the Ripper got back to his feet, and was now standing over Riley while holding his other knife. Just as he was about to bring it down on the detective, a shot rang out. It was Noah. The first bullet hit the Ripper in the chest, and the kill shot hit him in his left temple, dropping his lifeless body to the ground in a heap. Riley was still yelling in pain, but the threat to his life—and the lives of the women of Staten Island—was over. The Ripper’s giant body lied in an ever growing pool of crimson as the rest of the guys caught up to their injured friend. 

“Jesus, someone call a bus!” Calem yelled.

“On it,” Jesse replied. 

The pain was almost unbearable, but Riley sat silently as Noah field dressed his wounds as best as was possible given the circumstances. He wanted to scream out again, but he didn’t have the energy for it. “Hold on, man, it’s not that bad.” Noah’s voice sounded panicked, but he tried to keep cool and collected. 

“It certainly feels bad, fuck!”

“No, I’m telling you, it’s bloody but I don’t think he hit anything major. It’s just going to hurt like hell and we need to stop the bleeding. Hold still.”

“Easier said than done.”

“He’s right,” Quinn said. “Try to stay still. I know it’s hard.”

“Is he?” Riley asked.

“Dead?” Calem responded. “Quite. Good shot, Noah.”

“Thanks.”

Riley laid back and let Noah do his thing. Help was on the way, and he’d be fine. But, more importantly, he knew that the sex workers of the area had nothing more to fear. The danger was gone, lying in a puddle of his own blood, a death cleaner and nicer than those he’d dished out himself. Riley would take it. He had no choice. But the Ripper was no more. 

“Good job, partner,” he whispered to Noah.

“You would’ve done the same for me. Now let’s get you better.”