Hannibal the Cannibal vs Jason Voorhees

Tesla Is Back and Deadlier Than Ever With Part Two of My Collection of Carnage: Season 1!

Hannibal the Cannibal; This vicious and cannibalistic genious, slaughterer, and eater of humans who has a 'dish' for Jason best served cold, vs, Jason Voorhees; The limb ripping, throat slashing, king of horror movies that is ready to take victory by the throat, and put a machete to it.

Hannibal the Cannibal

Hannibal the Cannibal
Height	5'8.5"
Weight	170 lbs
Origin	French, Lithuanian

Lecter is a brilliant psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer. In The Silence of the Lambs, feature Lecter as one of two primary antagonists. In the third novel, Hannibal, Lecter becomes the main character. His role as protagonist continues into the fourth novel, Hannibal Rising, which explores his childhood and development into a serial killer.

Hannibal Lecter is described as being small and sleek, and with wiry strength in his arms. In The Silence of the Lambs it is revealed that Lecter's left hand has the condition called mid ray duplication sexdactyly, or his left hand has an extra digit; a duplicated middle finger. In Hannibal, he has since had his extra digit removed, while Hannibal Rising makes no mention of this physical abnormality.

Hannibal Lecter/ Weapons
Close Range	Butcher Knife
Medium Range	Katana
Special	Jujitsu
X-Factor	He is a genius with an IQ over 200 (smartest man alive)

Lecter's eyes are shade of maroon, and reflect the light in "pinpoints of red". He is also said to have small white teeth and dark hair.

Hannibal Lecter has numerous interests that come to light, including psychiatry (his profession prior to incarceration), medicine and physiology, cooking ('The Joy of Cooking' being one of the books in his cell), art (being a skilled artist in his own right), and music. (He is notably fond of Bach's Goldberg Variations, performed by Glenn Gould. Also being adept at Mandolin and Piano)

Jason Voorhees

Jason Voorhees
Height	6'5"
Weight	250 lbs
Origin	Camp Crystal Lake

Jason Voorhees, the son of Pamela Voorhees, was born deformed. He lived with his mother at Camp Crystal Lake (his mother was the camp cook), in the city of Crystal Lake. Jason was bullied incessantly until, in 1957, he tried to prove to the bullies that he could swim and drowned in Crystal Lake.

One year later two of the Camp Crystal Lake counselors were murdered and the camp was shut down. Future attempts to reopen the camp were plagued with problems, including poisoned water and unexplained fires.

In 1980 eight new counselors planned to reopen the camp, but ultimately all but one of the new counselors were murdered. The killer is ultimately revealed to be Pamela Voorhees. Pamela is then beheaded by the only survivor, Alice.

Jason Voorhees/ Weapons
Short Range	Meat Cleaver
Medium Range	Machete
Special	Fence Post
X-Factor	Althogh he will not be Immortal n the fight, Jason has survived multiple injuries and has combat experience

The very next year Alice is murdered by an unseen killer in her home. Five years after Alice's murder a group of counselors return to Camp Crystal Lake for training, and all but 2 are murdered (though one of the survivors cannot be found). The killer turns out to be Jason Voorhees. Full grown and seemingly indestructible, Jason kills to avenge his mother's death and to carry on her quest to keep the camp closed.

In each new incarnation Jason returns to be an unstoppable killer, only to be "killed" then later resurrected.

Battle

Panting, the man ran, his construction helmet bobbing against his head, obscuring his vision. He took two deep breaths as sweat poured down his face in bucket loads, which were absorbed into his shirt. His shirt was now soaking wet weighing him down, slowing him enough for his stalker to catch up. His work belt was bouncing loosely on his hip, spilling a pocketful of nails across the floor. He looked back, not knowing were the man was. But that was his biggest mistake.

He turned his head around and reached for the keys in his pocket, his hands trembling in extreme fear. He was still running, constantly darting his head behind him looking for the man who looked like he was going to kill him, but his searches were to no avail.

He glanced ahead, seeing the road; his savior. Looking on, he saw the moonlight glimmer against the slick, mud painted sides of his truck. He darted his head back around, and of course, no one. He turned his head back to the road, trying not to lose time. He clenched the keys in his hand tightly, squeezing it until he lost the blood in his hand. He looked at the keys and scrambled to find the unlock button, clicking it multiple times. He glanced up, and what he saw, drained the life out of him.

The truck, the truck he was sure was parked a hundred meters away, was gone, as if it disappeared into the fog. He clenched his fish and rubbed his eyes, stopping in the middle of the construction site. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but trees and bricks. His heart sank to his feet, and his knees began to wobble. His entire body was collapsing from the inside. The butterflies that were in his stomach had turned to really angry dragons, and his lungs were compressed into deflated balloons.

He took a deep, shaky breath and released three words that were suppressed into whimpers, “Where are you?”

He waited a moment as the world seemed to spin around him, he turned his head behind him as if there were a spider on his back, and he moved the rest of his body in the direction of his head. He looked at the lake, the moon eerily danced across the water’s surface, illuminating a empty canoe that seemed to float in the middle of the lake.

Crystal Lake.

That was it. That was Crystal Lake, and this area, was none other than Camp Crystal Lake. The cabins, the forest… the lake, it all came together; this was the place he never wanted to visit.

His mind shot back to the previous night, him, Eugene, Max, and Benny, all sitting around the campfire after a long day of grueling construction work on the sight. His mind drifted to the words Max said.

He sped through every word, trying to think about the name of the killer.

‘Jackson? No. Jared? No. Jason…’ that was it, Jason, the kid who drowned, the kid who killed, the kid who was after him.

“Jason Voorhees, where are you?” His voice was deep, determined. He raised the helmet from his head, and placed it under his arm. “Jason Voorhees, if I must repeat myself, I surly will.” He looked around, nothing.

“Come on! I wanna see you!” He unbuckled his wrench, “I want you to get an up-close look at a wrench Mr. Voorhees!” He looked around, but with no success. “Cowardly B*tch!” He lowered his weapon, obviously discouraged.

He turned around, closing his eyes.

“Just a Dream, just a dream.” He opened his eyes. Nothing scared him more that what he just saw.

His car

His car’s front, with headlights shining bright was standing only meters from him, engine roaring. He raised his wrench again, he knew it wouldn’t do much damage, but it worked well enough for him. The engine roared to life, kicking up piles up leaves into the cold mist.

“Oh no”

He took a breath, imagining what being hit by a car would feel like, and something told him it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. A cold dagger ran down his back and he shuddered.

The car roared again, this time dispersing a flock of ducks sitting on the lake in the distance. The car slowly approached, showing no one in the driver’s side. Then the car leaped forward. Its wheels spun across the autumn leaves as it heavy metal lurched forward.

The man fell back, obviously realized, this was his end. The truck continued driving forward, oblivious of the man on the ground. Surprisingly, the man just barely fit, as the car drove over him, ramming itself into the tree behind him. The man stood, wiping the dirt from his jeans.

“Looks like you learned a new trick there, didn’t you Jason?” The man chuckled and reached for his wrench. His knees began to buckle as he started taking steps forward. He took a deep breath and leaned against a pile of bricks. He looked around for his human shadow that obviously was responsible for the fear he was feeling now, but he was able to mask the fear with bravery pretty fairly.

“Ok, I’ll see you around!” The construction worker plucked his hat from the ground as it found its way to his head. He raised his wrench as shook it as a goodbye gesture. He turned his body and began walking down the street, limping and taking deep breaths.

“Not yet.” The voice was quiet, ominous, and raspy. In the deep silence it echoed through the construction site.

The construction worker turned around, revealing a silhouette of a man, holding a machete.

“I knew you’d come!” The workers voice was shaky, but loud and powerful. “Now sir, come and play, were going to have a hell of a time!”

“I’m not here to play” The fearless, haunted voice shot into the workers ears like daggers, making him flinch. “I’m here, ‘cause this is my home.” The Machete man darted forward, raising his blade into the air, bringing it down on the construction workers shoulder.

The worker busted out in tears as the blood absorbed itself into his button-down shirt. Jason sawed the blade, back and forth into the man’s arm until it finally came lose, making the man drop his wrench.

He raised his blade and swept it down, slicing right above the man’s ear, diagonally until it made it to him mouth.

The worker gasped, taking in the last bit of air as Jason swung the blade down one last time, splitting the skull down the center.

Jason dragged the blade from the split skull and wiped the blood from its rusted shaft. He turned to the forest and walked away, wiping the blood from his machete onto a wooden sign, covered in overgrowth reading, ‘Camp Crystal Lake’

****

“I assure you Mr. Montgomery, all is just fine.” Hannibal cleaned his butchers knife with a blood soaked towel. “It is just one man.” Hannibal shoved the tip of his knife into the wooden cutting board that was painted with blood.

“But Mr. Lecter, I only wish safety to come to you, and you must be mad to just even step foot on this land!” George Montgomery scoffed, flipping through the news paper.

Hannibal leisurely walked to the table where Mr. Montgomery was sitting. “a dead man was found at the bottom of a lake on my property, probably happened years ago, how could it possibly be of any harm to me?” Hannibal drags out a chair and sits next to George, and snatches the newspaper out of his hand. “You do realize this man died a year ago?” Hannibal slaps the newspaper back on the table.

“You do realize this happened right where this house is now, and you do realize this man died while building your house?” Mr. Montgomery sat in silence taking continuous sips of his coffee.

Hannibal shook his head, “now Mr. Montgomery, many men die, it is human nature, but why do you seem like it is urgent that you must tell me, like it’s my life on the line?”

“Because sir…” George shook his head, “This man was murdered.” He placed the newspaper back on the table, sliding it over to Hannibal using only his fingertip as if he was afraid to touch it.

Hannibal cleared his throat and raised the paper to his eyes. “A dead, disfigured and slaughtered man was found in the middle of Crystal Lake by a fisherman.” Hannibal lowered the paper and stared at George, which was followed by a nod of George’s head. “Police claim it was another murder, on the site where several others were brutally murdered.” He again lowered the paper and shook his head yes.

“Friends and fellow workers of the diseased believe it is another attack by the same man who caused the killing streak many years ago. The dead body was presumed to have died a year ago while working on a house now currently owned by resident…” Hannibal’s voice trailed off. “…Hannibal Lecter” His voice quieted.

“You see here Mr. Lecter, there is a man out there who wants to kill you and others. “ Mr. Montgomery pointed a finger at Lecter. “There’s a story that goes along with it, about a disfigured child who drowned in the lake." He pointed in the direction of the lake, "his mother avenged his death, and when he came alive, he killed those who dared step foot on his property.” He looked deep into Hannibal’s deep red eyes. “I suggest you watch your back.” Mr. Montgomery’s voice was deep and sincere.

“Oh, Mr. Montgomery, those are nothing but campfire stories, made up to scare the kids into going asleep, like the Boogieman, and, well, murderers” A smile lit up his fang like teeth. “and I assure you, I believe in no such boogieman.”

Mr. Montgomery looked down at his watch, “Oh, I beg your pardon Doctor Lecter, but I must part you now, seeing how I am late for my wife’s anniversary.” George Montgomery stood up, and pushed in his chair, “I appreciate your hospitality.” With a nod of Lecter’s head, Montgomery was at the door.

“There are many things in this world to be scared of, and what you cannot see is one of them.” Mr. Montgomery tipped his hat.

“It is just a ghost story George.” Hannibal stood and walked over to the counter, and plucked the knife from the wooden cutting board.

“So it is doctor.” Mr. Montgomery opened the door, and paused. “So it is” He muttered under his breath and stepped out the door, slowly closing it behind him.

Hannibal pulled a packet of raw meat from the fridge and unzipped the Ziploc bag, dumping the meat on the cutting board. “It’s just a ghost story.” He sliced the knife through the raw meat, spraying blood on his apron.

He pulled the curtain in front of the window over the kitchen sink open. It was pitch black outside, but the porch lights of his new vacation house that was built upon the previous and rundown Camp Crystal Lake, lit the outside just enough to illuminate a figure.

Laying on the ground was the blood soaked figure of Mr. Montgomery, and on the shore of Crystal Lake, was the darkened shadow of a man in a coat, holding a machete.

Hannibal’s voice was hushed, almost in a whisper. “Maybe there is something to this ghost story after all.”

****