Jeff the Killer vs Jeff the Killer: Difference between revisions
Jeff the Killer vs Jeff the Killer (view source)
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He couldn't let that stand.
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Officer Briggs was new to the beat. He had only been a cop for three weeks. His partner, Richmond, had been on the force for seven years.
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Jeff stepped over, and surveyed his handiwork. Not bad, he thought. But the other Jeff - the real Jeff - would be a far harder challenge.
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At that moment, across the city, the real Jeff the Killer lay slumped in an alleyway, a near empty bottle of whisky in his hand.
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He finished the last drop of whisky and, noticing it was finished, threw the bottle at a nearby cat. The feline hissed at him, loudly, and ran into the shadows. Jeff sighed, and kept on walking.
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Not far from there, Big Jane Lebowski sat in the front seat of an old, battered pick-up truck, holding a pair of night vision goggles to her eyes.
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She was going to show them all what Jane the Killer was all about.
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The school was silent when Jane arrived. This was no surprise to her, as it was so late at night. Parking the van nearby, she checked that her assault rifle was fully loaded before beginning to explore the outside of the school, moving in a large circle around the outside of it. She kept close to the shadows, moving quietly and smoothly, like a heavily-armed fox. Then, just as she moved around the side of the school, she caught sight of something.
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She turned to leave, but just before she did, she caught sight of something. A dark figure, flitting through the crackling light of the conflagration. She turned, narrowing her eyes to look back into the fire. For a moment, she thought that maybe it was him. Maybe it was Jeff. Yes, she thought, it had to be. The figure emerged from the flames, staggering, stumbling a little, and began to limp his way from the school. She watched him go, fading into the distance before he disappeared into one of the many city streets.
Which Jeff, she thought, was it? The real one? The copy? She watched the fire for a while longer. Nobody else emerged, only one. Jane smiled. Whichever one it was, she thought, she was certain that she could life with it. She finished her cigarette, stamped it out, and walked into the morning sunrise.
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