#pocketknlves

It wasn’t easy finding information on Camp Crystal Lake. He did his usual visit to the local library and was disappointed at the lack of coverage. Some of the articles were ruined, unable to be read with smudges of black on the copies they had saved and when he asked the librarian about it, he was told to stop digging into something that was dead. Alex wasn’t happy with that response. Instead of doing what she suggested he grabbed his things and decided to ask around. The locals could be a better source of information than old newspapers sometimes.

First stop was a bit of a dive but had pretty decent food and people who talked loud enough for him to eavesdrop. The locals were gossiping about someone named Tommy Jarvis. Alex frowns down at his basket of fried chicken strips and reaches for the small notebook he kept in his front pocket. When he’d met with the Dier’s they’d said that there was someone who was insistent on the camp being in danger still, and sure enough the name he wrote down was Tommy. He’d have to try and find him, which may be easier said than done, but he was here to help and helping didn’t mean taking the easy route.

Alex pays for his food and leaves. The next place to check out on his list was the police station. There was a decent chance they’d be helpful or at the least willing to humor him to get him out of the area faster. He never identified who he was when he showed up to work a case, not that he expected the local PD to know of him, but it was better to say he was a freelance journalist than the person writing stories that exposed police inefficiency at different points around the nation.

He’s just glad this place was only an hour or so away from where he lived, making it one of the closest stories he’d covered since freshman year of college...Which was only a few years ago. Weird to think about.

He rounds the street corner and spots the police building up ahead. Alex mentally prepares himself for talking with law enforcement, but stops at the stairs leading up into the building when a guy slams the doors open on his way out, looking irritated. A detective, if the casual business Friday look is anything to go off of, steps out behind the guy in the denim jacket and shouts, “I mean it Tommy! Let it go!” That sounds a lot like a threat, and Alex might consider it one if the detective didn’t have bags for his bags and exhaustion weighing his shoulders down. 

Wait – Tommy?

Alex does a full one-eighty and jogs to catch up to him.

“Tommy Jarvis?” He outpaces him with some very quick steps and turns around, walking backwards so he’s they’re face to face. “Uh, this is going to be a little out of left field but you’re exactly who I was looking for.” To help get information on the murders from one Jason Voorhees, to make sure the cops did something. “I’m Alex, by the way.” He doesn’t offer a hand, not wanting to pressure him into returning the greeting if he didn’t want to.

❛❛    got    caught    up    again    in    a    moment    -        more    than    i    wanted    to    .    ❜❜

       even  separated  from  his  charge  and  creator,    left  to  wander  foggy  gray  streets,     he  is  consumed  with  the  same  great  need  to  punish,    an  unquenchable  hunger  sated  only  by  watching  his  blade  derive  blood  as  penance,    glinting  scarlet  in  the  dim  light  above. 

       unseen  tendrils  come  to  wrap  around  his  broad  shoulders,    spindly  talons  digging  insistently  into  his  split  and  bloodied  skin.     𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭  𝘪𝘵,  𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵  𝘺𝘰𝘶?    a sudden  whisper,  echoing  beneath  the  helmet.     𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳  𝘩𝘢𝘴  𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥.  

        leather  boots  seem  to  move  of  their  own  accord  as  he’s  propelled  forward,    dragged  along  by  the  spider - like  arms  of  another  deity  he’s  been  deemed  fit  to  serve.    bare  muscles  clench,    the  razor - sharp  edge  of  his  knife  dragging,    scraping,    across  the  tile  as  he  shuffles  along  to  enact  righteous  judgment  upon  the  sullied  soul  that  dares  defile  this  ground. 

@pocketknlves​  said :  ‘ i  know  it  sounds  crazy.  i  sound  crazy!  you  think  i  don’t  know  that? ’ 

     mania  isn’t  something  to  which  ash  would  consider  himself  a  stranger.  in  fact,  it  hits  far  too  close  to  home.  his  return  to  elk  grove  after  that  fateful  trip  to  the  woods,  and  the  outlandish  stories  he  spun  insistently  to  anyone  who’d  listen  --  not  that  many  did,  dubbing  him  a  freak,  a  killer,  even  coining  the  moniker  ‘ ashy  slashy ’  to  accuse  him  of  murdering  all  of  his  friends. 

      but  isn’t  that  exactly  what  happened?  they  all  turned  into  those  things,  and  he  had  to  step  up,  had  to  protect  himself.  had  to  listen  to  their  taunts  as  they  wore  the  warped  faces  of  his  friends  ( his  linda )  and  he  hacked  them  into  little  pieces  over  and  over  and  over  ----- 

      hold  up.  this  isn’t  about  him  right  now.  he  can  empathize  with  tommy’s  frustration,  his  crazed  rantings  that  would  sound  like  something  out  of  a  bad  science - fiction  novel  to  any  outsiders.  the  pleading  look  in  the  boy’s  wide  eyes  does  not  go  unnoticed.  it  is  not  unfamiliar.  it  lingers  in  some  small  part  of  his  heart,  beaten  down  and  hidden  away  out  of  sight  after  years  upon  years  of  intolerance  and  disbelief.  he,  too,  had  been  a  scared  young  man,  once. 

       but  he  had  also  been  alone,  isolated  and  ostracized  from  everything  and  everyone he  knew  because  of  his  claims.  and  he  doesn’t  intend  to  make  tommy  endure  that  same  experience. 

@pocketknlves * starter call

              𝐋aurie’s idol hands moved quick across her bag, pushing through the little supplies she had to find the box of gauze she needed. Sitting on the floor infront of him, the woman shook her head at Tommy’s situation. Hurt, yet again, by protecting others from whatever murderer they were pinned against this time. It frustrated her, of course, but it also DISHEARTENED her, his choices giving her a reality check of her own ways. She knew he was quite headstrong, but he had good intentions ,at least she hoped he did, so she would spare him from a long-running lecture. But, he wasn’t completely in the clear from the blonde’s words.

     “ Seriously, Jarvis, you can’t keep being this reckless. “

   Though her words were stern, her voice was soft, not trying to make him feel bad at what he was doing, just a reminder that he may not be making the smartest choices in the game of survivng. Finally able to grasp the small box she was searching for, a gentle smile curled at Laurie’s lips. Luckily, for the both of them, Tommy didn’t appear too injured. His hands were pretty cut up, a norm for all the survivors, & a medium-sized gash on the shoulder that wasn’t all that deep. Overall, Tommy had seemed to get off easy with whoever was tracking them, but Laurie was known to be finnicky when others get hurt.

        With a gentle gesture, the girl skillfully dabbed away the blood on his rough hands, trying her best to make sure it wouldn’t sting to bad against the sterile material. Her eyes were focused on her task at hand, ensuring that every little knick was cleaned, but, she still found the chance to talk to him.

  “ I know you’re protecting them,

trust me, I know you’re a good soul “ -

   Laurie looked up from her work, making sure that the man was able to tell she was being genuine, knowing that he had a past with cynical tendancies.

 “ But, getting hurt so often isn’t good for you AT ALL, Tommy. “

       She only knew Tommy for a short time, as he accompanied the arrival of an unforgettable slasher, yet, she felt already closer to him than some of the other, more longtime survivors at their safe campfire. Maybe it was the closeness in age, or the similarities in spirit, but she considered him a good friend, therefore meaning she would only want the best for him, even if it came off as tough love.

   Finishing the care of his hands, the blonde picked up the light brown bottle she had of hydrogen peroxide within her bottle. The gash was no where near the worst she had seen, but it still was going to sting like a bitch. Pouring the cold liquid onto a small rag, Laurie placed her hand ever-so carefully on his chest, trying to keep her other hand steady, not wanting to miss any part of the wound.

 The girl gave a small laugh as she warned Tommy of what was to come.

“ Now, this probably will sting like hell,