привет, my friends! (For those of you who don't know, that's "hello" in Russian [sounds like "privet"]) Sorry I didn't update yesterday; wasn't really feeling any motivation *points to review box*. And I get it; I won't bug you guys about reviews anymore. Though it would be nice, I understand you have better things to do than encourage lil' ol' me. I'll write for me, and for me, I shall write... Not you punks.

So! In other news, things like updating a day late may become more frequent. You know exams and stuff (yes, I am a nerd, and yes, I do study for that stuff). So, life may or may not happen, but I'll try to the best of my ability to keep you non-existent fans updated.

Oh, and I updated my pen name from ArtsyNerdGirl (so unoriginal) to AmityofArt, so if you're having trouble finding this -though I highly doubt you will-, that may be why.


Jack felt sick. Even after he'd given Jamie that pep talk about "there's no way he'll show up at your doorstep," when truly, he should've stayed with him for extra protection. If he'd been even a minute later… He shook his head. He felt like he was going to throw up.

He studied the person who'd landed face down in the snow. The black pants and Converse shoes weren't particularly out of place, but personally, if Jack was ever going to become a criminal and be on the run all the time, he'd probably wear something more… lurkable… than a bright white sweatshirt.

The almost-killer wasn't very tall, though. Jack assumed that this was the guy the news was talking about, but he'd watched the broadcast, he'd imagined the killer to be… taller. This guy was only about a foot and half taller than Jamie, a ten-year-old.

If Jack honestly wanted to believe it, this guy could be kid, but kids didn't go on full-out killing sprees, right? Not any that he knew of, at least.

Jack stood there a minute, trying to decide what to do. Jack could hear him breathing deeply, and he guessed that he'd knocked him out. He smiled inwardly to himself and that last thought.

Finally deciding to leave the killer in a place where the cops and others could easily find him, Jack stopped himself before trying to pick up the guy. Though he really, really didn't want to, Jack knew he probably needed to stay with him to make sure that he didn't get away. Jack groaned and rubbed the side of his jaw. Maybe with luck, he'd sleep through the night. He certainly hoped so.

Jack bent down and pulled the unconscious killer up by the arm. Jack grunted. Dang, he was heavy. Pinching his eyes shut, Jack pulled harder and manage to drag him about ten feet through the snow until he had to stop again, panting. How had he practically flown him down the stairs?

He stopped and stood back upright, stretching a little. Jack glanced down at the hooded figure and furrowed his brow. The only thing Jack could see from that hood was a mess of black hair which now had snow sprinkled in it. While pulling him, he must've flipped him over partially on his side, but it was still amazing how well that hood of his hid his face from view.

Jack bit his lip. No, he knew he shouldn't… but at the same time, he had to. He bent down and ripped off his hood... then stumbled back, gagging. His hot chocolate from earlier gurgled back into his mouth and with hesitation, Jack swallowed it back down with disgust.

His face… Oh man, his face… What had happened to him? Or, it... Jack wasn't even sure anymore if this… this thing… was even human.

He was exactly how the kid on the TV had described: ghost-like, pale skin that was even paler than Jack's – and that's saying something- and open eyes that were almost popping out of his skull. They were ringed in what looked like black, scorched flesh, if Jack had ever seen it before. The worst thing, though, was his mouth, which had been cut, like with a knife, at the corners of his mouth, through his cheeks, and almost reaching his ears. Even though Jack knew that he was still knocked out –his eyes watched the sky blankly and soft snores were escaping his mouth- and it looked like, even with an expressionless face, that he was smiling at Jack.

Though the permanent smile and lidless eyes were extremely disturbing, Jack, being around children his entire life, could make out the roundish features that kids tend to have. That on top of his short stature, Jack realized that this thing, this horribly, messed-up thing… it really was just a kid.

Oh man… Jack really was going to be sick. A mix between a ragged gasp and a gag escaped Jack's mouth. Maybe it was a little too loud, because just then, the killer's unblinking eyes suddenly snapped to Jack.

They both stared at each other for a moment of silence before the white-faced kid lunged at Jack, knocking them both to the ground. He grabbed for Jack's throat, but Jack, with a grunt, pushed him away before he could get a good hold on him.

Jack was back up on his feet in seconds, backing away a few feet to give him some space between himself and that monster.

The kid's already smiling face smiled even wider when he pulled a knife from his hoodie's pocket. The sight of it made Jack's heart drop. Why hadn't he remembered to take that away from him?! Jack's stomach lurched when he saw a burgundy color smeared all over the blade. That knife had been used before.

Jack's grip on his staff grew tighter, but then the kid flung himself at Jack's feet, trying to take them out, but Jack swiftly pushed himself into the air and into a nearby tree, but he'd accidentally lost his Shepherd's Crook on the way up.

Breathing heavily, Jack glanced down at the ground and cursed when he saw his power source lying next to where the killer was standing, watching him.

The kid's bulging eyes widened even more at the sight of Jack's ability, but he quickly recovered and started climbing up the tree Jack was in, branch by branch.

Pushing himself up another branch, Jack called down, "You don't really have a sense of personal space, do you?"

He watched as the white-faced kid, unfazed by his light-hearted comment, continued to climb faster and faster up the tree until he was only about three feet away from him. The killer swung his knife at Jack's leg and snagged him a little on his shin.

The cut wasn't bad, but Jack's heart was beating faster than it should. With a terror-struck voice, Jack stuttered, "Wh-what are you? Some kind of Nightmare?" But he didn't think even Pitch Black could come up with something this awful.

The killer smiled wider. "You could say that," he responded, and swung his knife again at Jack.

Jack dodged it and jumped from the tree back to the ground, only five feet away from his Shepherd's Crook. He reached to pick it up, but was stopped short when the kid, who'd jumped from the tree, landed on top of him with crushing force. Jack landed belly-down in the snow, and, abandoning his Shepherd's Crook which was still out of reach, hastily turned onto his back, only to have the kid pin his wrists down with his knees.

His eyes wild, the kid grinned. "I don't think I introduced myself to you, Jack Frost," he said, smiling maniacally. "My name is Jeff Woo-"

"You're the kid who killed his family, aren't you?" Jack demanded, not even allowing the kid, "Jeff", to finish his name. "You're the killer from the news."

Jeff laughed in spite of him. "Really? What gave it away? The bloody knife or deranged smile?" he said, grinning widely and revealing his teeth. Jack grimaced at the sight; Tooth would have a field day.

In a burst of strength, Jack shoved his leg into Jeff's hand and knocked the knife away. Jeff started to grab for it, but paused and brought his hands around Jack's neck instead. Jack's eyes widened and he struggled, trying to pry Jeff's fingers away from him, but Jeff had too good of a hold on him.

Jeff leaned his face closer to Jack's and he squirmed, able to turn his face away a little. "You… really… need a… breath mint…" Jack grunted, trying to push Jeff's face away.

His white face scrunched up in confusion, probably at Jack's ability to talk, even while being strangled, but Jack technically didn't need to breathe; he couldn't die, anyways.

Jeff's left eye twitched and he pressed down harder on Jack's Adam's apple. Jack tried again to pry Jeff's fingers away, but they wouldn't budge. His neck was really starting to hurt, though.

Jack growled and spit into the killer's lidless eyes, causing him to scream in pain and jump off of Jack, viciously swiping at his face. Jack took the opportunity to grab his staff and he pointed it at Jeff, who now had tears streaming down his face as he wiped at it with his sleeves.

Starting to gather energy, Jack aimed his Shepherd's Crook at Jeff's heart, but he hesitated. It was his job to protect the children of the world, not end them... No matter how far down on North's Naughty list they are.

He lowered his staff a few degrees and a shot of ice burst from it, giving Jeff just enough time to look up and watch the shot hit him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards against a tree.

Jeff grunted and tried to pick himself back up, but he stumbled and fell back onto his knees while leaning against the tree for support. Jack smirked and conjured up a thick blanket of snow on top of Jeff, leaving only his head poking out, then froze the top layer of snow into two-inch-thick ice.

Eyes blazing, Jeff thrashed and struggled against his cold restraint until his breathing was a hitched pant and what was left of his cheeks were flushed. He finally gave up and settled for glaring at Jack, his eye twitching occasionally.

Jack wasn't worried. The worst he could do -which he'd already done- was flatten the snow against the top layer of the dome-like ice cage, making it thicker, but he'd already done that.

They both stared at each other, at Jack with pure hatred and at Jeff with calm-faced disgust, for a few minutes, the only sound in the night being an occasional bird call and their heavy breathing. Jack, however, started to squirm under the silence and decided to brake it. "What happened to… yeah?" Jack asked bluntly, motioning to his own face but meaning Jeff's.

Jeff's eye twitched again. "What do you mean?" he growled, biting out each word like it hurt him to talk. "What do you think is wrong with my face?" He cocked his head and gave Jack his best smile.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How was he supposed to respond to that? "Uh… Nevermind, it… it was a dumb question, anyway…" Jack mumbled, shaking his head.

"Was it?" Jeff asked, raising what would've been his eyebrow.

Jack glanced at Jeff, but looked away, deciding to look at anything but him. His face was starting to make him sick all over again. His gaze fell on the dark, velvet sky and crescent moon that seemed to be frowning on Jack's situation. With the feeling mutual, Jack sighed and sat down in the snow, propping an elbow on top of his raised knee. It looked like he didn't have a choice but to wait this all out until morning.

He looked up at Jamie's window, thinking. He assumed that if he had woken up, he'd probably fallen back asleep, being as he hadn't wandered outside to see what had happened yet. Thank God he was a heavy sleeper.

He turned his head back to Jeff, who was still staring at him with that awful smile. "You can't keep me here forever, you know," he smirked. "It's going to be a long night... but a shorter one for you..."

Jack's mouth lagged slightly and turned his head so Jeff couldn't see his facial expression, which was one of shock, horror, and little bit of something he couldn't place… Pity, maybe? Once he'd recomposed himself, he looked back to Jeff, who was still staring at him, but was muttering something softly to himself.

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his white hair. It was going to be a long night.


Okay, Peoples, I'm going to warn you now, the next chapter will be... more than slightly OOC... I promise you, I do try, but I don't exactly know how a psychotic thirteen year old thinks... Sorry, but I'm not quite there yet. And hey, if you want a perfect personality of Jeff the Killer on , then you need to realize you're kidding yourself. It's fanfiction. Get over yourself.

Until next time!