Summary: Jason's older sister Jenny comes to Elm Street to get revenge on the children, now adults, who killed her and Jason at Camp Crystal Lake. Of course her machete related murders bring fear back to Springwood. You know where this is going . . . Freddy's back and he's pissed . . . oops. -Oc -Takes place after Jason Vs. Freddy-

So I was reading through the Friday the Thirteenth Wiki and found that Jason actually does have a sister. I personally don't care. Jenny is an Oc. This is fanfiction so you know AU and all that jazz.

Chapter 1

The Real Story Of Jason Voorhees

Hi, my name is Jenny but for some reason people always yell 'oh god, please no' when they see me. Pft, that's nowhere near my name.

Don't worry if you've never heard of me before not many people have, though I'm sure you all know my younger brother Jason. Yes the Jason.

Alright before we move on I need to clarify a few things. First off the version of Jason's story you all know and fear is only mostly true. You see there is one key element left out.

Me.

Allow me to enlighten you.

It was a beautiful day at Camp Crystal Lake. The sun was shining and the water glistened in its radiant light. There was a slight breeze tugging at my long brown hair making me shiver. Luckily the sun's warmth made up for the chilly wind so I didn't need to change out of the clothes I wore over my bathing suit.

I was walking down the shore barefoot contemplating if I should go swimming or not when a group of kids came running past me giggling up a storm. The little dip shits were acting like they'd just gotten high off of freaking Pixy Sticks (which was highly unlikely since the counselors looked down upon sugar). Let me just say lamest. Camp. Ever.

It took me a few seconds to realize that the morons were holding someone, no doubt the reason for their giggles. Not that I really cared, at least until I realized that someone was Jason. My icy blue eyes instantly narrowed into slits. No one touched my brother, no one.

"You little bitches better let go of Jason!", I screamed in rage.

The kids slowed down for a moment contemplating it purely because of my furious tone. Fear could do that to people.

"Sure thing toots", hollered a loud mouthed boy I knew as Brandon Philips. Kids a fucking loser, he'll probably end up working at Wal-Mart or something stupid like that when he's older.

A growl left my lips at the nickname but I let it go, as long as they put Jason down I didn't care what they called me.

But they didn't. The group of kids continued to run away with him. Snarling in rage I ran in an attempt to keep up with them. Luckily I was a fast runner so I was able to catch up to them fairly easily. The only problem was there were too many kids for me to be able to reach Jason.

"Damn it", I muttered bitterly.

It wasn't until the kids ran onto the dock that I began to panic. "What are you fucktards doing, Jason can't swim"!

The little gremlins only laughed at this, finding Jason's inability to swim hilarious. I could feel my blood boiling and if I was in a cartoon I'm sure I'd have flames in my eyes. They might kill my brother, my reason for living, just for shits and giggles.

With a fierce cry I punched the kid closest to me, his nose breaking with a satisfying crack. I sneered at him, the little pussy fell to the ground with a harsh cry, tears and blood trickling down his now fucked up face. I felt absolutely no remorse, in fact I felt the exact opposite. He deserved it, all these kids deserved it. They would pay, each and every one of them.

After taking out three more campers the group finally started to take me seriously. Although instead of setting Jason down nicely and begging for mercy like I wanted them to they dared to pick me up.

My confidence left me and my breathing became labored as we neared the edge of the dock, coming ever closer to the water. I was terrified, though not from what you're probably expecting. Jason was the one afraid of water, not me. No, at the moment I was afraid of Jason drowning. My brother, who was far worse off than me, was practically hyperventilating by the time we reached the edge of the dock.

From there everything happened so fast, one moment we were on the dock with the campers the next we were under water. As soon as the general disorientation went away I searched frantically for Jason, my arms flailing in every direction. The water was clear but it was still hard to find him with the water so turned up from our movements. My eyes widened when I felt something smack the back of my head roughly. Turning around as fast as I could I was more relieved than I'd ever been in my life. There was Jason.

But the feeling soon left. I was only one year older than Jason so I wasn't much bigger than him. I tried my hardest to swim to the surface with him in my arms but I couldn't. He was too heavy and his frantic movements were only making it more difficult for me. My lungs were burning and my head was pounding, if I didn't breath soon I'd drown. Yet how could I leave my little brother to die? How could I live my life knowing I gave up on him? I couldn't. Jason was my world, my only sibling; I couldn't imagine life without him.

So I continued to cling to him, holding him tight in my embrace. If Jason was going to die I would die with him . . .

That day Jason and I drowned at Camp Crystal Lake. Those children could have prevented it to. I blamed them. I did all I could, I even went so far as to die with my brother in an attempt to save him. But they, they did nothing. No that's wrong. They killed him. They killed me. They would pay.

Our Mother got her revenge of course, killing the teenagers who tried to reopen Camp Crystal Lake. Jason got his, and continues to, by killing anyone stupid enough to wander onto the camp ground. Every now and then Jason will even leave the lake to kill the 'bad children' of the world. I heard he went to some place called, what, Elm Street, where he ended up fighting some Freddy guy. I don't really know the details but he recommended I never go there, not that I particularly cared. If I died I could always be resurrected by some lighting or something.

Then there was me. I personally hunted down the children, now adults, who killed Jason. Every now and then I'd even go after their families. When I wasn't killing those fuckers I was killing bullies, whether they be teens or adults I don't care.

As for why you've never heard of me, well, I'm basically a mini Jason so people often get us confused. I wear the iconic hockey mask of course, I've even got the same shoes and gloves. Here's how you tell us apart. Obviously I've got boobs. You'd think that would be a no brainer but I guess some people assume that Jason stuffs fruit down his shirt or something. I enjoy killing those people, there stupid as shit. Your next clue, I have long brown hair whereas Jason does not. I can assure you Jason didn't grow his hair out, I'm not even sure if his hair can grow anymore to be honest and I don't think he'd be one to run around in a wig. Alright so that's just pointing out the obvious. Here are the more subtle differences. Instead of wearing a badass coat I wear a badass trench coat (it makes me look scarier in my opinion).Finally the handle of my machete is a dark gray instead of black.

Right . . . while It's been nice talking with you I've got to be going now, I heard a few of my brothers murderers live in a place called Springwood so yah know, I'm goanna go kill 'em. Should be fun, I heard Brandon is one of them. Apparently he had kids, I'll kill them first. But Brandon? I'm saving that prick for last so he knows it's coming.

So there's chapter one. I actually came up with this during English today. I'm already working on chapter two and if I get enough reviews then I'll update faster. I'm lazy an need encouragement.