NO TRESPASSING

If only things had turned out differently on that unlucky day… 

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Though, these soldiers clearly hadn't heard the cautionary tales of getting close.

Their first mistake? Assuming Jason was harmless, even in such a broken down state.

The first that came within arm's reach was grabbed, skull crushed between two palms. A second, taken down under the new body thrown, and even a third, blinded by Jason's thumbs in his eyes. Even if he couldn't stand, his arms still worked just fine. The fourth to approach was simply grabbed and thrown, bowling down several behind him.

They were easy fodder, almost insultingly.

Though, he hadn't anticipated a group of them banding together to tackle him, forcing his face into the mud as they restained his flailing limbs. He'd not seen soldiers like this before, almost always after the first few kills the rest backed off, but these? Determined as ever.

“Go get him Bruce, bring him to me and we’ll make sure he’ll suffer for what he did.” Achim’s voice boomed before there was an audible click from the PA system turning off. All he did was wait, blue eye staring out of the window. How dare that god forsaken thing disrespect him so much, well as soon as it was in his grasp, he was going to make sure Jason could feel every little ounce of the torture that was going to be had.

Shambling forward, towards the thing that towered over him. Towards the plane, taunting behind safety.

'bring him to me'

He can't help but clench his jaw behind the mask. Would scream in fury if he could. How dare this trespasser think he's above it all? Starting the fight, then decreeing when it ended?

Falling to one knee (he can't WALK like this) Jason can't fathom giving up. Can't imagine letting his mother down, can't fathom losing a fight. But he knows his limits. He needs time to come back, time to heal.

patience, jason. that's a good boy. lie in wait, you know what to do.

Jason & Friends!!!

The panic started to set in as his experiment laid face first in the mud, not moving a single muscle and the one that did it to him was now advancing towards the general direction of the jet. But he knew what was coming next, and honestly, the transformation can’t come quick enough.           As Jason dragged his feet through the mud, closer and closer to the Jet whose engines were beginning to roar to life. Suddenly, a massive clawed hand smacked Jason away, sending him flying into one of the nearby cabins.           With a roar, a monster towered over the entire area, standing well above the heads of all that were below him. His bright purple and yellow eyes glaring down at the one that was launched across the area. Smoke came pouring out of his nostrils as the thick humid air came into contact with the hotness of his breath.

Hell, it was an explosion. Bits and pieces of shattered wood, 30 years old and BEGGING to come down. Shards of glass, nails, whatever was left of the armchair he'd plowed into just past the wall. What had BEEN a wall.

It took a second for the revenant to realize he was no longer standing, no longer stalking towards the second of the two trespassers. Took a second to realize he'd flown 30 feet, demolishing the front porch and wall of an old camping lodge. Realize there was something sticking out of his chest that really shouldn't be there.

Dark blood oozed lazily down the behemoth's front, up and around the shard of wood nestled around several shattered ribs. Grabbing it, yanking it with all his might, Jason could almost feel it grinding against his spine. Pulling, threatening to snap the sinews and cords entirely as he pulled. He didn't care. He couldn't fight with almost half a log in his chest.

If he were normal, if he were alive, survival of such a wound would be out of the question. Barring the impalement, such force might've simply vaporized him. A lovely pink mist where he'd been standing.

But he wasn't normal. Wasn't alive, by most meanings of the word. And he still had to kill the other trespasser, so tantalizingly close.

Staggering -- ah, yes, that was a shattered bone sticking out of his shin -- Jason refused to give up. One injury would NOT be the end of the fight.

      … until nothing…

           Suddenly, Bruce’s body went limp. His heart and brain starved of the one thing they needed to continue functioning. His eyes were shut, which was unusual for the dead due to their muscles no longer working.             Achim watched from the distance, a sudden realising what had actually happened.

thats a good boy. now the other one.

Standing slowly, Jason took one last glance at the body at his feet before he started towards where Achim watched. The machete, still laying abandoned on the ground was quickly scooped up, though Jason's gaze never wavered.

Would Eyepatch run? Would he try and fight? Would he mourn the death of his friend? The revenant found he didn't care. He had one mission, and he was going to complete it if it was the last thing he did.

Watching the whole thing go down, Achim smirked as he turned around. “I’m sure yae can take care of it. I will be waiting for yae in my jet.” With a wave of his hand, the scientist started to make his way through the mud, leaving his experiment to handle the situation unfolding. Bruce was struggling to keep his footing, between the wet, slippery ground of the lake edge to the weight of Jason suddenly crashing into his waist, it wasn’t surprising that the smaller killer was able to bring him down.

       “Wait… what?” Bruce crashed into the mud after his focus was broken for just a millisecond. Now he was left alone into cleaning up Achim’s mess once again. It was his idea to come investigate the murders, it was his idea to disturb the whole area with his arrival… this always happens so it’s not too much of a surprise.

that's a good boy, jason. so resourceful! now finish it. finish them both.

His mother's words, egging him on, rattled out behind him. He'd do anything for his momma, no matter what it was or the cost it took. If she wanted everyone dead that stepped foot in Camp Crystal Lake? Everyone that did was as good as dead. If only to have some peace and quiet, like Momma always lamented they never got to enjoy. Trespassers never seemed to learn, no matter how many of them disappeared by his hand.

Moving to straddle the toppled giant, Jason's eyes flashed with murder, bright and clear despite his decaying form. Hands wrapped around Fangs' neck, missing chunks of skin and flesh, squeezing. He didn't need all of his fingers to strangle someone. And they'd come back, as they always did, anyway. Nothing could stop him, but they sure as hell could try.

Then, shoulders lowered, he took a leap at Bruce's waist. Throwing everything he had into at least toppling the beast to get to his vital skull. There were flashes of his gloved hands crushing it like a watermelon in his grasp, his mother's voice egging him on despite the very real possibility of him losing.

Though... did something so unkillable HAVE an ability to lose? Or was it just a setback? He never stopped trying, never stopped fighting. Even fights he hadn't outright won weren't counted as losses, as he had all the time in the world to try again.

Well.

The tent spike easily pierced Bruce’s flesh, causing him to roar and recoil back. Claws dug into the mud, stopping himself from backing off any further. Yet, Bruce didn’t fight back, it seemed it was out of spite for the scientist who was still barking orders towards him. With one eye open, the giant looked down at Jason before his hands wrapped around the weapon that was embedded into his flesh.            Bruce was quivering, the feeling of the sharp metal object leaving his body wasn’t exactly ideal but he managed to rip it out and throw it into the mud at his feet. He sniffed Jason a little before flinching his head back.            “Ugh… you… you alright?” Jason was certainly the source of the awful stench.

Why would this guy care in the first place?

And no. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be dead, at least five times over.

Then, thinking better of it, looked around the behemoth. His machete lay there, discarded by the smaller of the two. If he could get past this one and a grip on it, he would be close enough to cut Eyepatch in half.

Therefore evening the playing field. And quieting it down, as well. Something about Eyepatch didn't sit entirely right with him, but it didn't matter. Both were marked for death, and both would get it. No matter how hard they kicked and fought.