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Chapter Three: Visions

Although he was by no means an extraordinary man, Dallas Genoard possessed an extraordinary talent. It was one that he didn't fully discover until after he became a full immortal, and he often wondered if it was the reason why he'd developed the talent. The first time it happened, he'd just roused himself from a deep sleep back in 1963, and had stumbled into the main room of the swanky penthouse he and his sister stayed in when they visited New York City. His sister, Eve Genoard, was sitting with a worried expression on the couch in front of the T.V., her brows furrowed together and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Still a bit drowsy, Dallas made his way over to her, taking his place on the couch beside her. On the T.V., a woman with her elaborately curled hairdo was talking about a killing spree that had taken place in a bank nearby, and Dallas rolled his shoulders.

"What're you watchin' this sh—crap for, Eve?" Dallas asked, doing his best to keep from cursing in front of her, as he knew how she hated it. She smiled at his attempt, but it faded as she looked back at the screen.

"It was on when I came down. I kind of got sucked into watching, I guess," she replied, reaching for the remote, but Dallas stopped her, gently placing his hand over hers. He was staring intently at the T.V. now, his eyes narrowed and focused, before he closed them.

"They said the guy who did it didn't take any money, right?" Dallas asked first, before continuing. "Just killed a whole buncha' people an' left? He must be someone with money."

"Why do you think that?" Eve asked him, curious.

"Because, he wasn't goin' in to get money, he jus' wanted the thrill of the kill," Dallas explained. "If it'd been a robbery gone wrong, he wouldn'ta' killed everyone." He paused again, only opening his eyes and breaking his silence when he'd mustered the courage to say: "I had a dream last night where I was this guy. I know you don't have any reason ta' believe that, but it's true."

"I believe you," Eve reassured him, grasping his much larger hand gently in her own tiny one.

The next day, the killer was caught, and Dallas's statements had been confirmed, as the killer was a highly influential millionaire. When asked why he did it, the killer laughed and said;

"The thrill of the kill!"

The year was now 2001, and the visions came again. Perturbed by the horrific nightmares, and knowing that they must have something to do with something going on in the city, Dallas marched himself down to the police station (though he really, really didn't want to) and had himself a talk with the head investigator of that particular squad.

"You do know how incredulous your statements seem, Mister Genoard," the
man, Maiza Avaro told him, peering at him from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Correct?"

"Yeah, I know," Dallas replied, clenching his hands together tightly as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He'd actually worn one of his good suits today for the first time in a long time, as he knew that he had to make a good impression. "That's why I'm—uh—willing to show you what I can do." Maiza raised an eyebrow curiously, and sat up a bit in his seat.

"Alright. You said you'd come to talk to me about a recent string of killings, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me about them."

Inhaling deeply, Dallas closed his eyes and remembered, vividly, the dreams that he'd been having, and his eyebrows knitted together. His words came out in a much deeper tone than he usually spoke in, the syntax and wording much different than how he would usually speak. "…they're mimicking Jack the Ripper, so far. They've all taken place late at night or early morning in red light districts, all against confirmed young female prostitutes. The killer usually slits their throat to kill them, and then removes their uterus, but that is the only thing taken. No money or valuable objects are taken from the bodies. It makes me believe that the killer already has money and he's only doing this for the fun of it. He's also educated in dissection." Finishing his spiel, Dallas exhaled heavily again, opening his eyes to look at Maiza. The man was staring at him in disbelief, his eyes wide open.

"Those details haven't even been released to the public yet…how did you…"

"I told you, the dreams," Dallas repeated, finally looking Maiza in the eye. "So, am I on the case, or what?"

"Well, you are, but since you have no license, you won't be working alone. You'll be working with the lead detective on this case."

"And that is?"

"…you'll meet him tomorrow."

Meanwhile, later that night, Luck received a second call from Maiza.

"Any new developments?" He asked at first, and Maiza sighed a bit into the phone.

"Well…kind of. We have a new guy working on the case."

"Oh? Who?"

"You'll meet him tomorrow, but he'll be working with you. I'd prefer for you not to protest, alright? We need for this to go as smoothly as possible." Luck hesitated, wanting to say something, before Maiza spoke again; "I'm only doing this because I trust you."

"Alright, alright. Where are we meeting tomorrow?"