Tucked away in a small, cozy apartment in the heart of New York City, lived a man named Luck Gandor. Many, many decades ago, in the 1930's, he was the leader of a small but powerful Mafia family, but once the illegal booze and gambling industry collapsed, he and his brothers turned to a more legal way of making a living. They had all become private investigators around the eighties, and had kept a steady stream of money coming in, just enough to keep them comfortable in their respective homes and apartments. Right now, however, Luck was taking a much needed break from investigating, sitting in his recliner in his pajamas with his feet propped up on the coffee table, currently immersed in trying to figure out a crossword puzzle from a book he'd picked up in a nearby gas station to curb his boredom.

He'd just finished a particularly difficult case for a young lady who'd watched her parents get murdered, and it wasn't pretty. It had been very dangerous, and had he not been immortal, he most likely would have gotten himself killed. He, his brothers, and a few of his friends had become immortals by complete accident back in the thirties, and ever since then, Luck had used to to his advantage.

But. There was a downside to this immortality. Besides watching all of his mortal friends grow old and die, Luck had also lost his lust for life that he'd used to have. In a sense, even though he couldn't die, he was dead inside, too detached from reality to bother doing anything outside of his job. Although he still had his immortal friends, Luck didn't talk to them too much, besides his very close friend Firo, and his brothers. And he had no lover to speak of; Keith and Berga had both gotten married decades ago, and even Firo had finally tied the knot with Ennis around the time he'd turned to investigation, but Luck remained alone. He had nothing to give to a spouse, anyway, he told himself. And with his job, he'd probably be gone a lot, too much to hold up a relationship.

His next case was going to bring about a change to that, though, he wasn't aware of it yet. Luck may have been an immortal, but he was no psychic.

Just as he was filling in the final empty boxes of the crossword puzzle, the home phone next to him began to ring incessantly. Sighing deeply, Luck picked it up from its receiver, holding the phone to his ear. It was the number of one of his co-investigators, Maiza Avaro, and Luck's eyes narrowed. This had better be important, to interrupt him while he was supposed to be off of work.

"Yes, this is Luck Gandor speaking," he muttered drowsily, curling the phone cord around his finger.

"Hello, Luck," Maiza's voice replied from the other line, sounding slightly on edge and worried. "I know you're off work, but I promise this is important. There's been a killing."

"There are always killings in this city, please tell me what else is new."

"This isn't normal, Luck. It's the way that it's been done. That's why I called you."

"Well, tell me what happened, then."

"Are you familiar with Jack the Ripper?" Luck let out a breathy sound that was a mix of a huff and a laugh.

"You do know who you're talking to, right?"

"Just making sure. And it's like that, Luck. It's a woman, a prostitute to be exact, possibly around her late teens, early twenties. She's been killed, and is missing a certain body part." Luck inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly, leaning back in his recliner. It creaked wearily.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Well, a case of this caliber required an investigator of your talent."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister Avaro."

"And I believe that you're the only one out of all of the investigators I know who can solve this case."

Luck sighed heavily again, kinking the cord in his fingers. Sure, he was supposed to be on vacation, and he had just finished a difficult case, but. He was getting bored, like a police dog who'd been kept inside for too long. He was aching to use his brain for more than filling in puzzles, to have some kind of motive when he walked down the streets, to have a scent that he needed to follow. And it wasn't like he didn't have time. He had an eternity.

"Tell me where to meet you."