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It had been many decades since Dr Klaus von Klein had set foot in his homeland of Germany. Following the war, and the utter devastation of not only many of the cities but everything that he held dear, the doctor had been forced to flee for his very life.

All that he had loved had been destroyed when the Allies had come. They had bombed his cities, invaded his laboratories, and dismantled the only government that he had ever believed in. Now, though, he was going to get his revenge.

He pressed forward on his wheelchair control. The sound of the wheels echoed through the underground bunker, reverberating against the metal hallways. At almost a hundred years of age, Dr Klein knew that he did not have much time left. He moved past a number of windows, each looking into small, dirty cells that held his previous experiments. He loved those experiments. Each and evey one of them was special, unique to him. But it was his most recent one that would bring about his revenge.

It was, he thought, the end of his experiments back in the camps that had annoyed him the most. The newspapers had called him mad, of course. Mad! As if there was any kind of insanity in his genius! No, while his colleagues like Dr Mengerla had wasted their time indulging their silly hobbies, he had truly worked for the betterment of science. He had been creating a weapon - not a bomb, not a virus, but a soldier. The ultimate soldier. 

And he had been so close, too. When the Alliance soldiers had found it, they had fled the building, vomiting and screaming. Eventually, they had called in the flame thrower brigade, who had burned the creature out. Dr Klein still remembered the sight of it, the poor creature, it's multiple mouths screaming in agony, it's nine legs flailing as it tried to run.

He looked into the last cell. No, this was more than just revenge. This was personal.

He had heard the news reports about the child. A young teenager, burned and disfigured in a pointless accident. The boy had changed, become something more. Become a killer. That had been all the influence that the doctor had needed. Could this child hold the key to his revenge? 

For a while, he had thought about capturing the child. In the hopes of doing so, he had sent out several of his highly trained elite guard, each armed with the best assault rifles that he could purchase from the black market. None of them had returned alive. 

And so, he had decided, if he could not have the original, he would simply make his own. 

He learned forward, and pressed a button. The intercom into the cell crackled into life. "What is your name?" asked the doctor in a thick German accent.

The creature in the cell stirred.

The doctor repeated the question. "What is your name? "

The thing in the cell lumbered forward, out of the darkness and into the light. It's lips curled back in its pale, white face, revealing rows of sharp teeth. "Jeff" growled the thing.

The doctor smiled. It seemed to be working. The surgery had been a success, the thing in the cell was an almost perfect likeness for the infamous killer. Almost too perfect, he thought. "And what is your function?"

The man in the cell paused, as if trying to find the right words. 

The doctor signed, and pressed a small button beside the window. Instantly, the floor of the cell lit up, crackling with a sharp electric light. Jeff fell to the floor, screaming terribly, his body twitching as a thousand volts hammered through him.

The doctor lifted his hand from the button, and asked again, "What is your function?" 

Picking himself from the floor, his body giving off a thin wisp of smoke, the man said in a soft, quiet voice "I exist only to kill."

The doctor laughed to himself. "Yes," he said, "yes, it works! Oh, my beautiful creature, how perfect you are! Why, my own perfect replica, my own duplicate of Jeff the Killer! Why, together we will show those American dogs!" He laughed manically, waving his arms in celebration. "We can do anything! Together, we will take over the world. I will be führer of the world!" 

A dull sound came from the cell. The doctor paused in his celebrations, turning to look at his monster. 

The creature in the cell was staring back at him through his dark, lidless eyes. Suddenly, the creature gave a terrible roar, and charged forward. It's body crashed against the glass with a thud.

"Stop!" commanded Dr Klein, "What are you doing?"

But the figure in the cell ignored him. He slammed his fists against the window, punching it hard. The doctor tried to wheel forward, to get to the electric shock button, but it was too late. The steroids that he had pumped into the creature made it too strong, it's muscle mass was beyond that of any mortal man. It looked at him through wild, rage-filled eyes, and smashed through the glass.

The force of the breaking glass blew the doctor from his chair. He scrambled along the floor. "Stop!" he screamed. "You can't kill me. Remember your programming. All those months we spent brainwashing you, forcing you to watch Nazi propaganda videos. You are loyal to me, loyal to the Reich!" 

The creature learned down and grabbed the doctor by the neck. He lifted him up, off the floor. 

"Please..." gasped the doctor, "remember who you are..."

For a moment, the creature did remember. Behind his cold, dead eyes, he remembered a childhood. He had a family. They had been happy. His patents had loved him. He had a dog, he played video games, he had gone to school, he had a normal life. It wasn't perfect, but he was happy. Then, one day, there men in black suits had grabbed him as he was walking home from school, and loaded him into the back of a van. That was when he met the doctor. That was when his old life had ended. 

"I do remember" said the man. He started to squeeze his fist down on the old man's neck. "I was a normal kid. My name was Jeff Swanson. Now..." he pulled the old doctor closer, until Dr Klein could smell the fetid scent of the monster's breath, "now I'm a real killer. And it's about time that you finally go to sleep."

With that, he clamped his hand down so hard on the man's neck that his head popped upwards, torn free from his body. The old Nazis head hit the opposite wall, leaving a thick wake of blood behind it, before it landed on the floor and rolled to a stop. 

Letting the body fall limp to the floor, Jeff turned to head out. Somewhere out there, he thought, there was another one, another Jeff. 

He couldn't let that stand.


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. 

Briggs had applied for the police force because he thought it would be an easy job. So far, the only thing it had been was boring. 

Richmond offered him a doughnut. Briggs took it and swallowed it. They were sitting in the front of their squad car. The night had been quiet, empty. Nothing had been going on, just like last night, and the night before. 

Briggs would have given anything for a shootout. That would have been exciting. 

Richmond yawned. The older cop had told him that nights would be like this, and it was very late at night.

"Hey" said Briggs, leaning forward to look out of the window, "would you look at that!"

Richmond drank from his mug of coffee. "What is it?" he asked, not bothering to look up from his crossword.

"A man" said Briggs, "just over there on the other side of the park. He must be eight foot tall!"

"What?" asked Richmond, turning to look. "Wow, you're right. He's huge!"

"Hey, hang on a moment!" said Briggs. "I recognise that hoodie. Don't you?"

Richmond squinted his eyes, trying to see through the darkness. "Jesus!" he said, "that's the same kind of hoodie that Jeff the Killer wears!"

"You're right!" said the younger cop. "Do you think that's really him? We could arrest him!"

"Are you crazy?" asked Richmond. "I'm not going to tangle with him. He's a killer, in case you didn't know."

"And we're cops!" said Briggs. "Come on!" With that, he opened his car door and pulled his gun.

Hurrying along across the park, both of the officers advanced on the duplicate Jeff, their guns drawn. The tall figure didn't seem to notice them, though. He just continued walking, striding along with big, lumbering steps. 

Briggs pointed his gun. "Freeze, you giant evil bastard" he shouted. Richmond pointed his gun also, grumbling that this was a terrible idea. 

The creature ignored him, and kept wandering onwards, through the dark shadow-encrusted park. 

"I said freeze!" shouted Briggs, and fired the gun. The bullet whistled through the air, sailing in front of the counterfeit Jeff's face by an inch. 

The giant stopped. He turned, looking directly towards the cops.

Briggs felt a wash of disgust brush over him, but he forced it down. Damn, he thought to himself, that is one ugly mother. "Alright" he said, "put your hands behind your head."

Slowly, the silent creator did just that.

Briggs started to feel better. He had been right all along - no matter what, Jeff the Killer wasn't immune to bullets. He pocketed his gun, and grabbed his handcuffs. "That's better. Now stand still while I put these on." 

He walked over to the giant creature. Richmond watched him, "Be careful," the older cop said, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Relax" said Briggs, "We're going to be famous!"

The terrible shape of Jeff glowered down at the cop. "You look tired, officer" he rasped, "maybe it's time for you to go to sleep."

Moving the handcuffs closer, Briggs said "No thank you, I've had enough coffee to keep me up all night, son."

Without another word, Jeff grabbed the officer's wrist. He yanked it, and there was a sharp crack as it broke. Briggs started to scream, but Jeff wasn't done yet. With an almighty tug, he pulled on the cop's arm, forcing it to rip from the shoulder joint with a loud wet tearing sound.

Richmond's eyes went wide. His younger partner spun around, a thick splash of blood painting the officer's face as it jetted from Brigg's shoulder like a garden hose. He dropped his gun, and turned to run. 

With a powerful swing, Jeff brought the arm around, spinning it like a baseball bat, and drove it into Brigg's head. The officer's head was knocked free from the force of the blow, and spun wildly through the air, landing with a wet thump against the back of Richmond's skull. The older officer crumpled to the floor. 

Jeff stepped over, and surveyed his handiwork. Not bad, he thought. But the other Jeff - the real Jeff - would be a far harder challenge.


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. 

He had started drinking early, beginning at six in the evening, and lasting until... He wondered what time it was. Late. It had to be late. It was always late when he was about. 

His mind was busy. He had already murdered one man today, a violent and ill tempered pimp who he had refused to share the bottle of whisky that he now held. 

The man had, Jeff knew, been a total bastard. Abusive towards his whores, forcing them into drug addiction to keep them in line. Some people would have considered him a hero for cutting out the man's knees like he had done.

Jeff lurched to his feet. Had he done a good thing? Maybe. He wasn't sure. Good and evil seemed such nebulous, uncertain concepts to him. He had done many evil things. But was it possible that there was worse out there, in the dark? 

He spat onto the sidewalk, and began to walk. Two teenagers, noticing him, turned to flee. He watched them, satisfied to see their fear of him. He was too drunk to chase them, and the city was too big to kill everyone he noticed, so he simply let them run. 

He was bored, he realised. The endless killing had started to bore him, growing repetitive after so many slayings. Not even the police bothered him now, fearing for their lives if they ever caught sight of him. Instead, he had been forced to wander the country, traveling from city to city. Maybe tomorrow, he thought, he'd want to settle down. Or maybe tomorrow, he'd just keep moving on. He didn't know, not yet.

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.


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. 

Through them, she stared at Jeff. It had taken her a while to find him again. After she had lost him outside of Haddonfield, he had moved at a fast pace, scampering from city to city like a disfigured, murderous ant. 

This time, though, she had him.

Looking at him through the goggles, he looked so small, so vulnerable. It was hard for her to believe that he was the same man-slaying monster who had killed her entire family and turned her into the hideous, disfigured freak she was today. Tonight, though, that rampage of his would come to an end.

She looked into the back of the truck. She smiled to herself. Jeff was just a maniac, she thought, an unthinking monster. But she was smart, not like him. She had a plan. More than that, she was prepared. She looked at the contents of the truck. This, she thought, is why she was better than him. This is why she was Jane the Killer, and why she would be more than ready, willing and able to make Jeff regret ever rejecting her.

A sharp crackle sounded from the front of the truck.

Jane glanced at it. She had stolen the police radio some months ago, used it to listen in on the signals and the message. At times, it had helped her track Jeff. At times, it had also helped her find prey of her own, victims to help her heighten her own killing skills.

"All officers in the downtown area," the message crackled, "this is a warning. Jeff the Killer has been sighted in the vicinity of the old abandoned school. Repeat, Jeff the Killer has been sighted in the vicinity of the old abandoned school. Do not, under any circumstances, approach that area of town. If you are already near the school, please flee for your lives!"

Jane shut off the radio. "Shit!" she hissed to herself. The school was almost a mile from her. How could Jeff have got there? She had been watching him. Could the police be wrong? Could they have seen another Jeff? Or maybe it was the Jeff that she was watching that was the false one. Maybe the real Jeff had arranged for a duplicate to distract her, while he headed to the school and l laid a trap for her!

Well, she wasn't going to fall for his trap that easily. Reaching under the truck's seat, she pulled out an AK47 assault rifle. Strapping it around his shoulder, she revved up the engine. She'd get there first, head him off before he had a chance to do whatever he was planning.

She was going to show them all what Jane the Killer was all about.


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. 

The hoodie was flickering in the breeze. It was still a distance away, but Jane recognised it immediately. It was Jeff's hoodie, the only kind that he wore. She checked her rifle. Not wanting to get any closer for fear of alerting him, she pulled the gun into position and opened fire. The bullets tore through their target, shredding the hoodie in a hail of gunfire.

Watching carefully, Jane paused. It had all seemed too easy. That was when she realised that she had walked right into a trap. 

The lights from the school's large floodlights burst on with a dazzling glare. Jane was momentarily blinded. Staggering backwards, unable to see, she was quickly deafened by a blaring noise from the school's megaphone system. It was so loud that it hurt her ears, and she dropped the assault rifle to cover her head. That was when she noticed that the noise was, in fact, music.

A figure stood before her, a dark shape against the brightness of the lights. The figure held his arms open wide. "Do you like it?" he asked.

Jane could barely hear him. "What?" she spat, angrily.

"The music. Do you like it?" asked the figure, stepping towards her. "It's one of my favorates. Ride of the Valkyries, by Wagner. They played it all the time to me when I was in the laboratory."

Jane started to panic. The figure, she could see now, was definitely Jeff, there was no mistaking it. But she had no idea what he was talking about. Quickly, she reached into her pocket. "I've no idea what you're babbling about," she said, "but it ends here!"

Pulling a knife from her pocket, she rushed at the figure. Leaping up like a wild animal, she plunged it downwards. To her shock, the man she assumed was Jeff caught the blade, knocking it easily away and throwing her to the ground. He towered over her. "I know you, too" he said. "I've read your file. Big Jane Lebowski."

"Thrilled that you remembered me" she snarled, and kicked him square between the legs. The large form barely flinched, so she kicked him again, and again. On the fifth kick to the testicles, the pain flooding through the man was too much for him to stand, and he sunk down to the floor. Jane rose to her feet, sliding her knife close. "Hope I didn't damage anything there," she sneered, licking her tongue over the knife's blade, "I have to make sure that I've got a trophy to take home."

As she reached down to tear Jeff's pants open and cut off her trophy, the figure lunged upwards again, pushing his full strength into a fearsome uppercut punch that sent Jane tumbling backwards. She dropped the knife, and lay sprawled on the ground, blood trailing from her mouth. "Stupid girl," spat the counterfeit Jeff, "don't you know that you could never stand a chance against me? Women are naturally inferior to men."

Groaning as she rolled onto her knees, Jane spat blood onto the floor. "Says who?" she asked.

"Says the great man, Adolf Hitler!" answered the doppleganger. "I will remake the world in his image, his glorious ideal! You, if you are strong, will be kept as breeding stock."

Staggering to her feet, Jane sneered at him. "Oh boy, Jeff, what have you been reading on the internet?" She cracked her knuckles, "Well, it's time to take you to school."

"You first" said the man, and charged forward, knocking her into the school playground. She landed with a thud against a climbing frame, denting it with the force of her landing. The man followed her, grabbing onto one of the swings and pulling it free from it's frame. Wrapping the metal chain of the swing around her neck, he started to choke her. Jane gasped, gagging for air, trying desperately to grab onto something - anything that could protect her, keep her alive.

"Hey, you great ugly bastard son of a bastard's son - up here!" shouted a voice. Jane's eyes snapped open. She recognised the voice immediately. It was Jeff - the real Jeff! She looked up, trying to see where the voice had come from. She recognised it immediately, it was from the roof of the school. The other Jeff looked up too, panicked - but by the time he had turned his face up, the real Jeff had already leaped from his place on top of the school roof, and was hurtling down upon him, driving a sturdy old sledgehammer into his duplicate's face. 

The other Jeff collapsed to the ground, while the real one turned to look at Jane, who was coughing as she caught her breath. "Well, look who the fuck it is" he sneered.

Jane pulled the swing's chain from her neck. "Fuck you" she retorted.

Jeff laughed, "Maybe later. Who's that guy?"

"I dunno," said Jane, stumbling to her feet, "some Nazi asshole. Looks just like you, though."

Snorting, Jeff looked at the other man, who was lying bleeding on the floor. The man's face was dented, bruised and bloodied, but Jane was right. He definitely did look like him. Almost an exact copy. "Where'd this thing come from?" he asked.

Jane shrugged. "Said he was from a laboratory. Could be the work of the Illuminati for all I know."

"No," said Jeff, "this isn't their style."

"How did you get here so fast?" asked Jane.

"I followed you" explained Jeff.

Jame blinked a few times in confusion. "But I've been following you!"

"Oh, please Jane" sneered Jeff, "I'm not that easy to catch. While you've been following me all these months, I've also been secretly following you. Can't let you get the jump on me, can I?"

Jane was just about to reply, when a strong sensation wrung its way around her ankle. Glancing down in horror, she saw the other Jeff's hand lock around the bottom of her leg. She gave a cry, but it was too late. Rising from the ground, the Nazi Jeff pulled her from her standing position, swinging her upwards like a mace, driving her head into Jeff's midsection. 

The force of the blow was enough to throw Jeff through the concrete wall of the school. He landed in a pile of bent, dented and damaged lockers. Fuck, he thought, that bastard really packs a punch! Looking through the cloud of smoke and debris, Jeff caught sight of the towering figure of his counterpart as it stepped through the hole in the school wall and towards him.

Jeff leapt to his feet. Digging into the pockets of his hoodie, he found a small hip flask of whisky and a lighter. Snapping the lighter to create a bright flame, he jammed it into the lid of the flask and hurled it at his opponent. The alcohol caught the fire just as the flask struck the other Jeff's chest, causing an explosion with all the force of a detonating grenade.

Jeff turned, and looked around. With his sledgehammer still outside, he had no weapons remaining. He thought quickly, and turned to run along the corridor, into the science wing. He had not gone far before he heard the other Jeff's footsteps hammering on the ground behind him, his double trailing smoke behind him from the ruined, scorched wound on his chest. Jeff ran as hard as he could, but many years of booze-fuelled alcoholism was tugging him back, wearing down his endurance. Faster and faster, the other Jeff was advancing, homing in for the final kill.

A sound rang through the air. Nazi Jeff paused, grinding to a halt. He turned, glancing towards one of the classrooms where the sound had come from. It sounded just like the horn of an approaching van. But that was impossible, he thought, they were not near a road. That was the last thought that went through his mind before a large, dented pick-up truck tore into the side of the school, ripping its way through the walls as if they were made of paper. The real Jeff turned and glanced behind him, looking as the van pummelled into the Nazi Jeff, tearing him through the next wall and out of sight. 

Jeff caught his breath, as Jane pushed open the door of the van and hopped down from the driver's seat. "Think that will put him to sleep for a while" she said.

Stumbling over to her, Jeff laughed. "That showed the bastard. Good one, Janie."

She smiled to him. Then, before she knew it, he was against her. He kissed her, hard, passionately. She felt her body pull against him. The scent of the blood in the air was irresistable. His body felt warm, hot even. As she kissed him back, a feeling started to grow inside her. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hard, heavily. Fuck, she thought, what is this feeling? Her pulse was rushing, and she felt her face start to blush. The feeling burned within her, churning like a horde of butterflies. 

Yes, she thought, she knew this feeling. Loathing. That was it, loathing. She reached her hand into the truck, grabbed a tire iron from beneath her seat, and brought it down hard onto Jeff's head. He stumbled backwards, and she struck him again. Then, turning the tire iron around, she drove it into his shoulder, puncturing his skin and jamming it brutally into his neck with a thick gout of blood. "Bastard!" she snapped. 

Jeff coughed up a splattering of blood, leaning against the broken wall of the school for balance. "What's the matter, Janie? Not in the mood for a bit of the old in-out?"

She spat at him. Then, pulling the tire iron free with a gushing splash of gore, struck him again around the head with it. "You murdered my family, you fish-eyed freak! What makes you think I'd ever be interested in you?"

Jeff was on his knees, struggling to see straight. Then, from the side of his vision, he caught sight of something. The other Jeff's body. It was moving. Fuck, he thought, he's still not dead! A rush of pain flooded his senses as Jane struck him again with the tire iron. "Stop!" he shouted, as she hit him again. "Stop! We have to work together, Janie! It's going to take both of us to kill this thing!"

Jane paused for a moment. "Fuck you!" she snapped, "I don't want to help you. I hope that bastard kills you. Here!" she said, and with a fierce roundhouse kick, knocked Jeff through the wall. He stumbled, collapsing beside the copy Jeff. "I hope he eats your fucking heart!" bellowed Jane, and she turned to walk away, leaving Jeff alone with the monster.

Jeff turned, trying to run after her. But as he did, the Nazi Jeff's hand locked around his hair. He pulled, dragging Jeff down onto the floor. Rising up, the counterfeit Jeff lifted the real one from the ground, whirling him around like a spinning top, smashing Jeff against the floor, walls and ceiling. Then, slamming Jeff hard into the ground, the copy raised his mighty foot and brought it down hard on the back of Jeff's head.

Jeff's vision was spinning. He was sure that he was in a science classroom, surrounded by beakers and test tubes, but that was all he could tell. He thought for sure that he was going to die. He spat a mouthful of broken teeth onto the floor. "Why are you doing this?" he growled.

"Why?" repeated the monster. Grabbing a nearby fire hydrant, he smashed it into the lower part of Jeff's spine. "Why? I had a normal life, you bastard! A loving family. A good school. I could have done anything. I could have been somebody. Then some crazy old man grabbed me off the street, put me in a laboratory and turned me into this! Turned me into you!" He yanked Jeff up from the ground, and punched him square in the face. "Killing you is the only way to get my own life back!"

Jeff started to laugh. "You stupid, stupid bastard" he snarled. "Look at you. Look at me! We're never going to have a normal life. We're killers, both of us! We're the same!" With that, Jeff reached out for something, anything. Finding a set of test tubes from the nearby science desk, he smashed it into the other man's face. 

The other man roared, pieces of sharp glass puncturing his skin. He threw Jeff to the ground. "I'm nothing like you!" he roared, "I'm part of the master race. Hitler's chosen!"

Jeff continued to laugh, running up and delivering a powerful kick to the man's chin. "You're right, we're nothing alike. I'm not a filthy Nazi piece of shit. I may be a cold-blooded mass-murdering bastard maniac, but I'm all American!"

The Nazi Jeff roared, grabbing around for something he could use as a weapon. Blindly, he grabbed a stray cat, and hurled it at Jeff. The cat landed on his face, hissing and screaming, clawing frantically. Jeff screamed, stumbling as the cat cut at his features. 

Pulling the cat away, Jeff barely had time to blink before his doppleganger was upon him. "It's not just one man you're trying to kill this time, Jeff!" he bellowed, breaking a desk over the man's face. Jeff was bleeding heavily now. "It's the entire Third Reich! They live on in me. I've been given their entire collected memories, all their strengths." He grabbed Jeff, and with a phenomenal shove, drove him through the wall, further into the deepest interior of the school. 

Jeff stumbled, bleeding, the world around him spinning. His vision was going red. His legs were shaking. I'm going to die, he thought, I know it. The powerful double was upon him again, punching him, knocking him further and further back. "I am the Third Reich!" bellowed the man again, "And I am here to fulfil Hitler's destiny!" 

Jeff staggered backwards, wishing that he had a weapon. He landed against a locker. Catching his breath, he looked at it. Curiously, it had a name on it, placed on a small sticker. That was when Jeff realised that he'd been here before. Somehow, during his months of wondering, his travels had brought him full circle, brought him back here. "Yes..." said the other man, as he approached, "I was wondering when you would realise." Jeff pulled himself up into a standing position, propping himself up against Randy's locker. He knew that Keith's was nearby, and Troy's was further down the hall. They were the boys that had bullied him, all those years ago. This was his school. He had come so far, come full circle, and had barely even noticed it. "Now, will you just give up?"

Jeff started to laugh again, this time his laugh was far more wild. "No, I won't give up, you stupid Nazi fuck!" he aimed a strong punch at the side of the locker, positioning his blow just right so that it caused the door to break open, the lock ruined. The locker swung open, and Jeff grabbed what he knew to be inside. A switchblade knife. Randy always had one, he knew. "Now, you fucking fuck, it's about time you go to sleep."

This, he knew, was what he was here to do. For so many years, he had wandered around, killing mindlessly and without purpose. What was his purpose in life? He hadn't known until this moment. But here, in this school, with an enemy that was every bit his perfect antagonist, he had met his perfect match. Was there a deeper, more sinister evil than himself? Yes, he knew that there was, and it was standing before him now. An evil, Nazi version of himself. If he had been granted his bloodlust and insanity for any purpose, this was it. This was his purpose in life, to kill the creature before him. Jeff lunged. 

He was fast, and he swung his blade around in a wild motion. He stabbed it into the other man's chest, pulling it free only to stab him again. The counterfeit Jeff stumbled backwards, thick splashes of crimson erupting from each wound as Jeff ripped and jammed and thrust the blade this way and that. But after a few moments, his weariness started to catch up with him, and as he screamed with each stab he soon realised that he was growing exhausted. Through exhausted, torn breaths, he rasped, "Why won't you just go to sleep?"

Even though he was staggered and bleeding heavily, the Nazi Jeff barely seemed to feel anything. "Getting tired?" he rasped. "I was wondering what would break first. Your spirit..." He grabbed Jeff by the throat, and hurled him through two large double doors. Jeff recognised the room he had been thrown into immediately, it was the swimming pool. The throw had been perfect, and he hurtled downwards into the drained, empty pool, spiralling into the darkness at the bottom. He landed with a sickening, broken crack. Barely able to breath, barely able to move, all he could do was look up at the dark figure that loomed so far above him at the edge of the pool. "Or your body" it said.

"Actually" said Jeff, through broken teeth, "the only thing that's going to break around here is you. Look behind you, you ugly bastard!"

With a hesitant glance, the Nazi Jeff turned to look behind him. He had been so focused on killing Jeff, that he hadn't even noticed the noise of the van as it charged ahead. At first, he thought that Jane had to be in the driver's seat, but as he looked at the windscreen he realised that she was nowhere on sight, she had simply jammed the accelerator into full speed and let the van crash through wall after wall of the school on a terrible collision course towards both himself and the swimming pool. 

The Nazi Jeff tried to brace himself for impact as the front of the truck collided with him, and piled downwards into the pool with himself wedged tightly onto the hood. The moment that the van collided with the bottom of the pool, the impact triggered the contents of the truck - several tons of plastic explosives, grenades and assorted military weaponry that Jane had stolen from the military base at the far side of the city - to detonate. The resulting explosion tore through the school, incinerating the classrooms and causing the walls to be turned into a rain of debris.

From several streets away, Jane watched as the giant fireball engulfed the school. Even from this distance, she could feel the heat on her skin. She lit up a cigarette, and watched the fire. It would burn all morning, she thought. Looking up into the sky, she realised that it was dawn. The sun was coming out. Big Jane Lebowski smiled. Maybe, she thought, it was time for her sun to come out as well.

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. soon after Jeff started to run down the street he went to Jane and said we killed that Nazi fuck. Jane said now leave before you end up like him. Jeff went to go to a store he stole a bottle of whisky ran into the forest and sat and drunk it While Jane went to find somewhere to rest 

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