Bloody Randy vs Jeff the Killer

By Poppy Askew

Horror / Thriller

Nostalgic Encounters

Bloody Randy vs Jeff the Killer

Jeff Woods, better known as Jeff the Killer, was currently seventeen years old. It had only been four years since he became the killer he was known as today. As he walked in the silent, moonlit night, he began thinking of where to kill next. Usually he'd space out his killings, making sure that no victim was too close to the previous. Then it would be more terrifying - people would never know where he'd strike next.

'Here's far enough,' Jeff thought as he walked through a small village. His previous kill had been in the centre of a far away city. 'Now I just need to pick a house which may hold a victim in need of rest...' Most of the houses had the lights off, which told Jeff that they were sleeping. Then, further up the road, he caught site of one with a lit room. The demented killer grinned. "Someone's stayed up past their bedtime..." he chuckled as he approached the house.

First, Jeff always checked for any open windows. If there weren't any, he'd either find another discreet entry or just force an entry. It was only a rare thing if he had to force himself in, though, since he always found a silent way to enter someone's house.

To his luck, the kitchen window was open. He lifted it up and crept into the dark room of the house, then heading out and up the stairs in a slow, creepy way.

Jeff saw an ajar room door, seeing light seeping out of the room. He clutched his knife as he approached the room and pushed the door open, seeing a teenage girl on her phone. The girl glanced up at him casually, thinking it was her father, but her eyes instantly widened when seeing Jeff's face. Before she could scream, Jeff put his hand over her mouth and pinned her to the bed.

"Shh..." he hushed. "Just go to sleep." With that, Jeff raised the knife and plunged it into the teens chest. The young girl tried to scream, but failed due to the hand covering her mouth. Her eyes closed slowly as she fell limp, dead. Jeff pulled the knife out of her chest, then sticking his fingers into her stab wound and writing on the wall in the girl's blood:

"Jeff Was Here. #301."

After that had been done, Jeff silently walked down the stairs and out the window he came through. It must have been about 1:30 AM now, giving Jeff plenty of time to start walking again.

It had been about two or three hours as Jeff continued to walk. He felt his legs beginning to give way, assuming that he needed rest. Lucky for him there was a park bench in a kid's park nearby, which he went and sat on. Now he felt much better, until... he got a strange feeling... Jeff decided to shrug it off as he sat there, resting his legs, before...


Someone had wacked Jeff across the head with a rock. Jeff fell onto his front on the grass, vision blurring fast as his consciousness left him. The last thing he saw was someone standing over him and the words...

"I have you now."

Jeff started to regain consciousness. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious for exactly, but knew it must have been a long time. As his vision became clear, he saw that he was in a warehouse. It was fairly empty, seemingly abandoned and no longer used for its previous purpose. The killer tried to stand up, but saw that he was tightly bound to a wooden chair by some thick rope. He didn't seem at all frightened, but was fuming with anger; nobody had ever dared go near him, let alone actually manage to catch him.

Looking around, Jeff narrowed his eyes as much as he could. Many areas of this warehouse were shrouded by shadows. Everything around him was silent until he heard a noise - a creak. Something must've triggered this sound.

No, not something. Someone.

"Who..." Jeff began hoarsely. "Who's there...?"

"Well, well, well. Sleeping Beauty's finally awake," a voice announced, echoing around the large, empty space. Jeff tried to look behind himself since the voice had come from somewhere behind him. The voice sounded like it belonged to someone younger than Jeff. Not too much younger, but definitely aged about fourteen to sixteen, maybe also seventeen. It wasn't as gruff as Jeff's voice was, but it was close enough. Jeff couldn't help but think that this scenario was... adorable. Some little kid had tried to play the brave hero by capturing the world's most feared killer. Jeff would be kind and let the kid monologue for a while about "how brave he was to kidnap the world's worst killer", maybe even let the kid hit him a few times, before making his escape and murdering the little shit.

"Heh..." Jeff snickered as he grinned. "Good job, kid... You actually managed to catch me off guard. No doubt now you're gonna brag about this to all your friends."

"I would if you hadn't have murdered them," the voice responded.

Oh, now Jeff got it. This kid was out to avenge his friends. The killer knew he'd killed many teens and kids throughout his killing career, so this turn of events didn't surprise him one bit.

Jeff's captor began approaching him from behind slowly, before suddenly grasping Jeff's tangled black hair and yanking his head back. Jeff was now looking up at his detainer. The boy looked to be about sixteen. He wore a navy blue cap backwards with his fringe sticking through the hole, hair being naturally jet black. His eyes were a denim blue colour, standing out from the dark clothes he was wearing. The rest of his outfit consisted of a navy bandana matching the cap, a black leather jacket, a black Blink-182 T-Shirt and what seemed to be half-cut black ripped jeans. For some reason, Jeff swore that he had seen this guy before...

"Remember me now, Jeff? Now that you've seen my face? Or do you want me to jog your memory a little more?" the boy asked him through gritted teeth.

"If you're going to tell me that you're the brother or best friend of one of my victims, I'm really not interested," Jeff stated. This resulted in the boy tugging Jeff's hair harder, almost making Jeff wince.

"No, Jeff. I'm more than someone like that," the boy assured. "I'm one of the main reasons you're the way you are today. No doubt you still believe that I was your first kill."

"If you were my first kill then you'd be a rotting corpse in a wooden bed underground, sleeping soundly," Jeff clarified. The boy hammered a fist down on the remains of his nose. The younger teen looked genuinely angry now.

"How can you not remember my face, Jeff?!" he asked angrily. "How can you not remember the face of the one who pulled a knife on you and your brother at the bus stop?! How can you not remember the face of the one who got the same brother sent to JDC?! Most of all, how can you not remember the face of the one who attacked you at that kid's party?! The same one you punched the living shit out of until I could practically no longer breathe?!"

Now Jeff seemed surprised. "...Randy?" he asked as he stared up at the boy - Randy.

"Oh, finally! You remember me!" Randy narrated, harshly letting go of Jeff's hair and walking in front of him. Since Jeff was sat down, Randy loomed over him in an intimidating way. "Are you not surprised to see me alive, Jeff?!"

At first Jeff didn't reply, but eventually he did. "...I watched you die, you son of a bitch..." he hissed darkly. "I punched you in the chest until your heart stopped beating. I waited for you to stop fucking breathing! You should have been fucking dead!"

"I could say the same for you," Randy retorted. "Let's see: I stabbed you, smashed a glass bottle over your head with alcohol in it, Troy and Keith shot at you, you had bleach thrown over you and Keith set you on fire! How the FUCK did you survive all that, huh?!"

Jeff smirked at him. "I could have died if I wanted to," he answered.

"Bullshit!" Randy snapped, punching Jeff across the face. He then pulled out his old pen-knife, grinning. "Remember this, Jeff? The knife I pulled on you and your bro? Heh. Well, this is the weapon I'm going to use to end your life. To avenge Keith and Troy. To make you pay for putting me in a coma for four years."

Jeff was still smirking, even as Randy pressed the blade against his throat.

"Any last words?" Randy questioned.

"Yeah," Jeff replied. "Whenever you tie someone up, always make sure the knot is out of their reach and difficult to undo." With that, Jeff sprung out of the seat as the ropes dropped off him, having used this time to untie himself. He lunged at Randy and tackled him down, pinning him to the floor, grabbing him by the wrist which was connected to the hand holding the pen-knife and holding it down in case the teen tried to stab him. Randy thrashed around desperately, unable to kick Jeff off since the older killer was sitting on his legs. Jeff used his other hand to strangle Randy, grinning madly as he watched him choke. Just as Randy thought there was no way out of this, he managed to bite down as hard as he could on Jeff's hand, close to even biting some of the flesh off. Jeff pulled his hand away quickly, giving Randy the chance to use all of his strength to roll over, now being the one to pin Jeff down, raising the pen-knife.

"Sweet dreams, Jeff," Randy grinned as brought the knife down in an attempt to stab Jeff in the throat. Jeff managed to catch his wrist before the blade made contact with any of his body, almost struggling as Randy fought to plunge the blade into his vital area. However, Jeff was now clasping both hands around Randy's wrist, quickly breaking the bones without warning. Randy screamed in pain as Jeff threw him off, watching him writhe on the floor in pain.

Jeff kneeled beside his old enemy, rolling him so that he was on his back. Randy looked up at him with tears in his eyes, gritting his teeth as Jeff pressed the blade of his own knife against his throat, which he had snatched from Randy's pocket. Just as the younger teen thought that he had lost, Jeff pulled the knife back. "I want to fight you again," he admitted, rising back up to his full height. "You already know how to track me down. You know my method of killing. I'll be seeing you soon, Randy. Get well soon! Ha ha ha ha HAAA!" Once that had been said, Jeff made his leave. Randy remained on the floor, wounded.

After a few minutes, Randy staggered up to his feet, holding his injured arm. He stumbled towards the exit, heading out into the dawn of the new day. The boy hobbled through the abandoned docks which was probably once used for shipping goods and receiving them, hoping to find his way back to the village he once lived in. However, due to his lack of sleep since he had left the hospital, he was too tired to walk after about twenty minutes. He fell to his knees, panting, before falling onto his front, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

When Randy next woke up, he felt himself snug in a blanket. As he opened his eyes, he realised that he was in a house...

He was home.

Randy quickly sat up, but winced as he remembered that his wrist was still broken. Now his wrist was in a cast.

The sound of a kettle boiling could be heard in the kitchen next door. Randy tilted his head as he listened, glancing around the living room in which he sat. It had changed over the years, but only slightly. There was still the photograph of him and his mother on the mantelpiece which was taken about two months before his incident with Jeff, some small monuments around it. The mantelpiece once looked so spacey and neat, but now it was crowded - crowded with sympathy cards for his mother. Staring at the cards thoughtfully, he caught sight of his mother in the corner of his eye, entering the room, holding a drink of hot chocolate. She put the mug down on the table and smiled sweetly and tearfully at him.

"...Mom..." was all Randy could say. His mother then wrapped her arms around him, cautious of his wrist, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cried softly with happiness.

"My son... my beautiful son..." she whispered soothingly. "I knew you'd wake up, honey..."

Hesitantly, with his good arm, Randy hugged back. "Mom... I..." he stammered. "You... are you... angry...?"

Randy's mother pulled back and put her hands on his shoulders, tears now stained on her cheeks as she smiled. "Randall Ace Cooper, what you did in the past was dreadful and left me in utter shock, but how could I possibly be angry with my darling boy?" she asked him. "All that matters to me now is that you're alive... and safe..."


That word made Randy's eyes widen. "No... mom, we're not safe..." he revealed. "Jeff... the boy I attacked... he...!"

"Calm down, Randy... You mustn't overdo yourself..." his mother cooed.

"No, you don't understand...! He's the one who did this to me! He wants to kill me...!" Randy announced, trying to get up onto his feet. "And I ain't gonna run from him like some coward..." Before he could leave the room, Randy was gently grabbed by the arm by his mother.

"Randy, I know that you were a tough boy when you were little, and I know you used to get into fights a lot, but the wounds that Jeff inflicted on you... they're not normal fighting wounds. What he did was a full-on attack."

"I know!" Randy snapped angrily. "This isn't the first time I've been attacked by him, mom! He's a killer! Not a boy, a killer! He's the "Ominous Killer" that everybody's talking about! Don't you see?!" Randy's mother was speechless.

"...Son... please... sit down... drink your cocoa... I'll go call the police..." she eventually said, about to get up.

"NO!" Randy roared, instantly causing his mother to sit back down. "Don't get the police involved!"

"Randy... they'll help us... okay...?" his mother assured calmly.

"They won't..." Randy growled. "They're after me, too..."

"Why...?" queried his mother.

"Because, mom!" Randy barked. "I, too, am a killer! Ever since I woke up I've been a killer, killing anyone who irritated me or got in my way!" These words made Randy's mother go pale with shock, her eyes wide as she trembled slightly. Randy just stared at her, breathing heavily with rage. "...So what's the plan, mom? Are you gonna call the police on me now? Huh? Well? Are you?!"

"N...No, son..." his mother wavered. "...You're my boy... My only boy... If I called the police and reported you... they'd execute you..."

"I bet if Danny was still alive you'd gladly tell the police about me..." Randy growled, flopping back down onto the sofa beside his mother. His mother was shocked by his remark.

"Randy... please... don't bring Danny into this..." she pleaded, trying to remain calm. Clearly, she was upset now by what her son had just said.

"I have every right to bring my own brother into this conversation..." Randy hissed as he stared ahead of himself in thought, his good arm now having a clenched fist. "He was the better son... you know it...!"

"I loved you both the same, Randy..." his mother retaliated slowly. "Now please... let's not talk about what happened anymore..."

Randy buried his face into his good hand out of stress. "God... I'm so fucked up..." he muffled, turning to look at his mother. "I killed Danny, I attacked kids in school, I harmed helpless animals... I'm a goddamn psychopath! I bet I got this trait from dad, didn't I?!"

"Randall! Calm down!" his mother couldn't help but yell at him. "You're getting too worked up! Just sit back, ease your temper, drink your cocoa and try to take your mind of Jeff... I promise, we'll figure something out... We'll get away from him, okay? Things could go back to normal..."

"You always say that..." Randy snarled. "When you and dad finally divorced you said we could live normally even though I was still getting over the trauma of watching my lil' bro getting knocked down by a car that I pushed him into... The only life I really wanted was one where dad didn't exist and where Danny lived... a life where I wasn't a psychotic freak... but it'll never happen because dad did exist and he did do those awful things to me, and I can't ever dream of living a life with my bro because he's dead! He's nothing but a rotting corpse in a wooden box underground! And as for me being normal... I'm trapped within my hatred to think about moving on now... All I want now is to kill... I want dad dead... and I want Jeff dead..."

Randy's mother wrapped her arms around her son once again. "Shh... Sweetie, calm down... We'll move away from here, okay...? We'll live in grandma's house far away from here... away from Jeff... You'll grow up, get married, and have children... and you'll watch them grow like how I watched you grow... You won't get into anymore fights, okay...?" his mother continued to hush him, rocking back and forth gently as if he was a little kid. Randy didn't respond to anything she said, but just listened. Then, he allowed his eyes to close...

"Ow! Randy, that hurt!" Danny whined after being punched in the arm by his older brother.

"Oh, man up, you wimp," Randy scoffed.

"You're being mean again! I hate it when you're mean!" Danny cried. Randy couldn't stand it when his little brother whined.

"Stop acting like a three-year-old, Danny," Randy commanded. "You're seven now."

"I told you that kids beat me up in school and you just hit me for no reason!" Danny exclaimed, still holding his arm as if it had just been stabbed or something.

"I'm trying to make you tough, you little punk!" Randy shouted.

"Well, it's not helping!" Danny argued. "Why can't you hit the boys who bully me?!"

"You need to learn to fight your own battles!" Randy stated. "I always stick up for you against dad, you know! And I always get beaten up by him for you! Be thankful that I actually do that!"

"I'm telling mom you hit me!" Danny finalized, running up the street's path. Randy ran after him with his skateboard under his arm, catching up easily and managing to grab Danny by the back of his shirt, pulling him back harshly so that they were both face-to-face.

"Listen, Danny, you better stop complaining right now or else I'll hurt you even more!" Randy threatened. This resulted with Danny hitting him in the face.

"You bully!" Danny accused tearfully.

Randy had just about had it with his crying and complaining, feeling his anger take over after that hit. "You freak," he snarled as he harshly threw Danny over, not realising that he had just thrown him into the road. Danny was about to get up to his feet before suddenly...


A car skidded to a halt after a loud thud was heard along with the cracking of bones. Blood was on the front of the car and on the road. Randy's eyes widened in horror as he stared at the scene, dropping his skateboard. He watched Danny limply flop to the ground, his cap falling off as blood gushed out from him, a puddle forming beneath his body.

Sanity had returned to Randy as he continued to stare. "Oh... oh god..." he whispered as he trembled. "DANNY!" Cars were stopping and people were staring and screaming, someone on the phone to the police. Or an ambulance. It didn't matter to Randy right now as he ran into the road, falling to his knees beside his brother and shaking him violently. "Danny! Danny, you little swine, get up! Quit fooling with me! I know you ain't dead!" ...There was no response. Randy lifted Danny into his lap, noticing his neck twisted at a grotesque angle, hearing the bones crunching as the broken body parts were moved. "Oh god... Danny, what the hell have I done?!" he screamed, bursting out into tears as he hugged his brother tightly, rocking back and forth. "Danny! Oh Christ, Danny! Shit! Shit, what have I done to you?!"

As Randy continued to cry and scream, paramedics had arrived, having to pull Randy away from his brother's body.

"No!" Randy protested. "He's my brother! I can't leave him! He'll get scared without me!" The young Randy kicked and thrashed as tears fell from his eyes looking almost like waterfalls, watching hopelessly as Danny was covered by a white blanket. He could just about hear the conversation that the other paramedics were having.

"I'm afraid the little guy's dead."

"Know who he is?"

"Yes. Son of a local family just up the street. His name's Daniel Cooper."

"We gotta break the news to his parents..."

"I know. Poor kid... How'd this happen?"

"Apparently he fell into the road and the driver couldn't stop in time when he noticed him."

"Get off my brother!" Randy yelled as he saw the paramedics lifting Danny's body onto a stretcher and wheeling him into the ambulance. "Get off him! He's pretending! I promise you, he's pretending! He always plays tricks like this! Or he could just be asleep! I'm telling you, Danny's not dead!"

Randy had just about lost it. He had no idea what he was saying or thinking. He just couldn't put up with the fact that his brother was... dead. However, it was all very true no matter what. And Randy had to eventually accept it.

Danny was dead. And it was all his fault.

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