What is Behind the Mask?

Disclaimer: I own nothing (unfortunately); all rights and characters in this fic belong to Scott Gloseerman, and other respective owners and creators. I gain no profit from this; it's purely for fun. I only own my OC characters.

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His blood boiled. His pulse raced. His heart thundered with the ferocity of a raging storm. Leslie Mancuso rushed down the darkened corridor, unsure of where he was going or even how he found himself in this predicament. He kept his trusted and bloody sickle in his hand as he came to a complete stop once he burst through two large, but fragile, wooden doors. Stepping outside as if waking up from a distant dream, he slowed to a crawl before coming to a complete stop.

A sense of confusion rushed over him as he took in his surroundings. Light rain fluttered from a blackened and cloudy sky. Droplets of rainwater slide down his mask as he scouted around for anything out of the ordinary, although it didn't help that this whole scenario was out of the ordinary.

It was like standing in the middle of a thick jungle. Trees touched the sky and vines shrouded every trunk and rock. The doors that he charged through before had disappeared. He was trapped in the middle of nowhere.

With one single-minded goal to escape from this hellish terrain, he walked towards what looked to be the clearest path, although it would still require a few slashes from his weapon to cut through. Using all this strength, he attempted to cut through the vines and break free, but his sickle would merely bounce off the vines to no effect. He grunted and swung a few more times, however, he was like a hamster on a wheel. He was getting nowhere.

Then he heard it.

The sound was distant and faint, almost drowned out by the sounds of rain falling on leaves. At first, he believed it to be someone starting up a car somewhere. Then he heard the sound again, this time louder, and more distinguished. A third time, the loudest one so far sealed the deal; he knew what the sound was…and what was making the sound.

Suddenly, the vines were shredded to pieces and a lumbering figure burst forward causing Leslie to jump back. He stood in a guarded position with his sickle raised, and a wide grin growing across his face as he stared down his opponent. The beast-like man towered over Leslie, as he reached down and pulled the chord once more, revving up his chainsaw to full blast and began swinging it around wildly like an aggressive animal.

Leatherface was looking for a new suit, and he was willing to tear off Leslie's mask, with face still attached if possible.

Despite his imposing size, Leatherface was swift. He stormed forward and swung his chainsaw directly over Leslie, who sidestepped out of the way in the nick of time. He thrust his arm forward and impaled his sickle into the giant's upper-thigh. A grunt of pain escaped Leatherface as the smaller killer wailed on him with a flurry of punches to the ribcage, before swinging a strong punch to the face.

BAM!

Even with a bald-skinned mask to shield his face, Leatherface stumbled backwards from the force of the hit. The sickle was wedged free, and this gave the cannibal the perfect opportunity to strike back. He reached out and grabbed Leslie's head, the palm of his hand almost reaching around the whole thing. Leslie tried to cut at his arm to break free, but Leatherface already acted by slamming Leslie face-first into the ground.

Leatherface raised his foot and brought it down. Leslie rolled out of the way before he was crushed. Leslie kicked out, hitting Leatherface's knee and knocking the chainsaw-wielder down a peg. On an equal level, Leslie swung his sickle right at Leatherface's head. Before he could strike, a chainsaw intercepted his attack, and the tremendous force of the weapon caused Leslie's sickle to go flying out of his hand and tumbled into the vines behind them.

BAM! Leslie was knocked to the ground by a ferocious punch. He rolled along and brought himself back up, just in time to see Leatherface swing his chainsaw at him again. All he could do was dodge each attack and avoid being torn to shreds. Luckily for him, he was smaller and quicker, and could easily evade Leatherface's attacks…until he was literally backed into a corner.

His back pressed against the bark of a tree, and for a brief moment, he feared the worst, until an idea came to him. Just when Leatherface was certain he was about to cut Leslie in half, the smaller killer crouched down, causing the chainsaw to become embedded in the trunk of the tree behind. Leatherface squealed in panic and anger as he tried to pull his stuttering weapon out from the thick tree. With an opening present, Leslie gripped the sides of Leatherface's head and slammed their faces together, his mask causing more damage to the more fragile headwear Leatherface donned.

A loud crack was heard, but Leslie didn't stop. BAM! BAM! First came a knee to Leatherface's stomach, and then another punch against to strong chest. The tables seemed to be turned. However, Leatherface wasn't done yet. He swerved out of the way of one of Leslie's punches, brought his hands together and slammed them across Leslie's shoulder. BAM!

Leslie was sent crashing to the ground once more. Leatherface didn't waste any time, as he got to work to wedge his chainsaw free, the weapon still revving up within the tree, causing splinters to scatter in the wind. Not wanting to let Leatherface get the upper hand again, Leslie quickly got up and charged towards the beast. But it was too late.

Leatherface unsheathed the chainsaw from the bark of the tree and reeled the weapon at Leslie. Leslie panicked. There was no way he could back-peddle in time, so he did the next best thing. He dived underneath the weapon and rolled past Leatherface, into the thick vines behind, and rolled into a large body of water.

His body swayed as he lost all bearings of where he was and what was happening. He didn't even have time to catch his breath, nor could he even if he did. Water filled his lungs as he tried to reach for the light. Finally, he burst out from underneath the water's currents, taking in the sweet breath of relief. He looked around, expecting to see Leatherface try and cut off his head the moment he came up from above, only to find he was floating and stranded in the middle of a lake.

Fearing being caught off guard again, Leslie swam for shore. It didn't take him long as his tired body stepped upon the sandy shoreline. Something glinting in the sand caught his attention. He walked over and was happy to see it was his sickle that had been washed up by the current. After picking it up and keeping a firm grip, he looked up and stared curiously upon a wooden cabin nestled on top of a hill. He looked closely to see a rotten billboard of some kind resting against the door. Dusty and in a dire state, he could just about make out the words written on it, and almost let out a chuckle upon realisation of where he was.

'Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake.'

A noise from behind drew his attention back to the lake. He turned around and was greeted by the sight of an individual, taller and bulkier than even the impressive Leatherface, rising up from the calm waves and walking towards him. With a chain wrapped around his neck, a bloody machete gripped tightly in his hand and an intimidating hockey mask covering his face, there was no doubt in Leslie Mancuso's mind whom this was.

He had become the latest intruder upon Jason Voorhees's home.

Leslie practically sprinted towards his new opponent, raising his sickle and bringing it down when within reaching distance. Jason lifted his machete up and blocked the attack. BAM! Jason kicked out, hitting Leslie's stomach and causing him to skid along the ground like a pebble.

Needing a moment to catch his breath, Leslie coughed up a bit of blood and hurried to his feet. Jason marched over and grabbed Leslie by the neck. He hoisted him up off his feet, his grip tightening, threatening to crush Leslie's throat like it was nothing. Reacting quickly, Leslie jabbed his sickle into Jason's hand, though this only appeared to stun the hockey-masked killer momentarily. Leslie raised his feet and kicked out. BAM! He stamped his feet into Jason's face, causing Jason to loosen his grip. Leslie then reached for Jason's hand and using his sickle, squeezed out of the vice-like grip.

Back on his feet, Leslie swung his sickle into Jason's body, cutting deep into it. This proved just as ineffective as before. Using this to his advantage, Jason grabbed Leslie's arm, not allowing the smaller killer to escape. Before Leslie could react, Jason lifted him up before slamming him down hard. BAM! He let go and kicked Leslie in the stomach, lifting him a few feet off the ground.

Before long, Jason was walking towards him again. He reached down and picked up Leslie by the back of his neck. Without a moment to even blink, Leslie elbowed Jason in the face, knocking him off guard. Then, he lifted his sickle and cut right underneath Jason's chin. Blood dripped from the wound, down across Leslie's weapon and all over his hand. For a moment, he had thought that he'd won…until Jason swung his machete, cutting across Leslie's arm.

He screamed in agony and leapt backwards. His hand covered his injury, trying to stop the bleeding. He was fortunate that he didn't lose his whole arm, but this certainly wasn't going to heal by tomorrow morning.

He didn't even realise that his sickle was gone again until he looked at Jason and saw the weapon still rooted under Jason's mask. Jason reached for the handle, he forced it one way, then the other, until finally, he was able to pull it out. Any normal human would be dead by now, but to someone like Jason, this was like a small paper-cut.

Leslie watched amusingly for a moment as Jason stared down at the small, but deadly weapon before looking back to Leslie's direction. Leslie's amusement disappeared when he realised what Jason was going to do next. The hockey-masked killer raised his arm and threw the weapon in Leslie's direction.

He moved his head to the side to avoid the attack and turned back to see the sickle stab into the front door of the cabin like a dart. Leslie knew he stood a better chance with his weapon, so chased after it as Jason followed behind him. He didn't even bother looking behind. He knew that he had a few seconds before Jason would reach him. Once he reached the door, he grabbed the handle and tried to yank the sickle out, but it was fully jammed into the wooden cabin door.

By the time he felt it budge, he could hear Jason's footsteps right behind him. It took a few more forceful pulls before he finally got it free, and without even looking, swung around to aim for Jason. Unfortunately, he was a split-second too early, as Jason leant back to avoid the strike. BAM! Jason threw one almighty punch, strong enough to cause Leslie to crash through the cabin door.

Leslie rolled onto his back and hopped to his feet, only to find he was alone once again, and the room he was in didn't seem quite right. The cabin room seemed a lot bigger on the inside, and it resembled a child's bedroom. By his side lay a computer desk with an open window that looked out to a suburban area, and allowed a gentle breeze to brush through. Leslie walked around the room for a moment, expecting something to jump out and surprise him. He most certainly did get a surprise, but of a different kind, as an overly friendly voice spoke up in a monotone manner.

''Hi, will you be my friend to the end?''

Leslie smiled and looked in the direction of the voice. His eyes were drawn to the bed, and resting on the pillows was a Good-Guy Doll, sitting upright and staring at Leslie with big, wide eyes.

Not wanting to give his new opponent time to attack, Leslie raced forward and carved at the doll with his sickle, cutting right through the doll's arm and tearing it in half. The broken toy was thrown off the bed and left astray on the ground, its head jerking from side to side over and over again. Uneasiness swept over Leslie. That was far too easy, almost as if what he just cut in two wasn't the real thing…but a decoy.

Before he could react, the closet doors behind him burst open, and a loud cackle was heard as something jumped on his back and grabbed his hair tightly, refusing to let go.

Chucky had played him.

Leslie tried to reach behind him to pull Chucky off, but he could reach. Chucky pulled out a small knife from his dungarees and stabbed Leslie in the shoulder. A cry of pain escaped Leslie and he dropped to his knees. However, he wasn't down yet. He took a chance and aimed his sickle over his shoulder and for his back, thankful to hear the weapon dig into Chucky's plastic body. The doll pulled out the knife and tried to stab Leslie again, but wasn't able to before Leslie practically flung Chucky off his back and across the room using the sickle.

Chucky crashed into the wall and fell to the ground. Dazed and wounded, but no less eager to continue the fight. Whereas the previous two killers Leslie fought were giants compared to him, he knew that didn't make Chucky any less dangerous. In fact, the toy's small size could work against him.

The two stared at each other for a brief moment, their weapons were drawn, as one waited for the other to make the first move. It didn't take long for Chucky to get impatient and rush towards Leslie first. Knife and sickle met as the two clash, causing sparks to fly. It was a back and forth battle, with Leslie having the strength and height superiority, whereas Chucky has speed on his side, and was able to weave his way through Leslie's feet. He slashed quickly at Leslie's heel, cutting him only slightly, but just enough to cause the masked killer to buckle over.

Down to his level, Chucky had an opportunity to slash at Leslie's face. Leslie moved backwards and felt the knife carve a mark on the cheek of his mask. After he had toppled backwards, Chucky leapt on top of him and stamped on his chest, forcing him to the ground. The toy raised his knife and brought it down, only to be desperately blocked by Leslie. He tried to push the toy off of him. BAM! He was temporarily weakened as Chucky stamped on his stomach.

BAM! Then again…

BAM! And again…

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Leslie was losing the strength in his arms with every hit, and Chucky laughed maniacally, pushing the tip of his blade closer towards the eye-socket of Leslie's mask.

Before Chucky could stomp his foot again, Leslie lifted his knee up and hit Chucky right in the back. The doll rolled off of Leslie and tumbled to the ground. The killer doll was on his hands and knees while Leslie twisted his body and kicked out. BAM! He kicked so strongly, Chucky was sent hurtling across the room again and crashing into the desk, causing it to shake and giving Leslie an idea.

He rushed over to the desk, hooked his sickle into the top of the desk and pulled it down in an attempt to crush the doll. Chucky helplessly watched as the entire desk collapsed on top of him. But he wasn't going to go down without one of his little personal goodbyes. He stabbed his knife into Leslie's leg. Leslie screeched and hobbled backwards just as the desk fell on Chucky.

With a moment to collect his bearings, Leslie limped to the other side of the room, holding his leg and staring down at the knife implanted just above his knee. Hissing and groaning loudly, he grabbed the handle and tried to get the pain over with as quickly as possible. He yanked the weapon out of his leg, a small trickle of blood sprouting out. His breaths were quick and dry, as all he could do was stand and hold the knife in his hand. It felt unusual compared to the knives he had held before. Once he got a proper look at the blade, it made sense why, as it was a simple plastic one.

Frustrated with himself, Leslie tossed it across the room…and noticed that the room had changed again.

He couldn't even cool this place a room anymore. It seemed to resemble a dungeon, with chains and hooks swinging from the ceiling. The walls were broken, with blue flames illuminating through the cracks. He could hear the faint sound of music playing over the sounds of the metallic chains clanking together. The tune was soft and foreboding. It reminded Leslie of a lullaby. Then the loud chime of church bells caused him to jump and quickly scan the room for what was coming next, and immediately stopped and stared in awe at the tall, leather-clad individual standing before him.

With charcoal eyes, cold steely skin, and pins jutted and patterned all around his head. Leslie knew that know he was about to witness a sight very few had an honour of seeing…the power of the Hell Priest.

Pinhead looked back at the human, somewhat unimpressed. He was even unfazed when Leslie raised his sickle, signalling to be prepared for a fight. In fact, he seemed more amused than anything else, with a hint of a dark smirk sprouting across his icy-blue lips.

Leslie wasted no time and charged at Pinhead, raising his sickle and ready to strike. Pinhead didn't even have to lift a finger, as out from the darkness behind him, a chain shot out like a bullet and deflected Leslie's strike. This didn't deter the killer, who tried to repeat his attack, only for the same thing to happen again. Another chain came out of nowhere and defended Pinhead from all of Leslie's strikes. Like serpents, the chains danced around an unflinching Pinhead and blocked the attacks.

It didn't take long for Leslie to back off and take a moment of respite. It was bad enough that he was tiring himself from this struggle whereas Pinhead hadn't broken a sweat, but after his previous battles, it was all starting to take a toll on the young slasher. He was breathing heavily at this point. He knew that he wasn't going to win the fight like this, but if he could settle this with hand-to-hand, he knew the odds would return in his favour. So, enticingly, he held out his hand and curled his hand a few times, gesturing for Pinhead to come at him next.

Charmed by Leslie's determination, Pinhead played along and walked over toward to him slowly. As he did so, he reached for the buckle around his waist, pulling out a weapon of his own, a large curved knife that somewhat resembled a sickle.

Not sure whether to feel honoured or offended by what Pinhead was suggesting, like the Cenobite was mocking the human for having to fight on equal playing grounds, Leslie attacked when Pinhead was within reaching distance. Pinhead blocked the attack and struck back. Leslie limped backwards, trying his best to avoid each and every slash. He winced every time he was forced to put his strength on his wounded leg, but he knew that he couldn't lose focus for even a second, otherwise he would be torn apart by the otherworldly entity…literally.

BAM! Leslie was caught completely off-guard blocking another one of Pinhead's attacks, as the Cenobite back-handed Leslie across the face so hard his mask flew right off his face.

Leslie's face was bloody and bruised by now, and he was beginning to lose part of his vision as his eye started to swell shut. But he didn't back down. He charged at Pinhead, holding his sickle in his right hand and swung his arm around. Pinhead lifted his weapon to block. Then Leslie did something unexpected and risky. Before hitting Pinhead, he tossed his sickle from his right hand to his left and aimed right for Pinhead's neck.

The Cenobite couldn't summon a chain in time, so he stretched his arm out and took the full force of the blow. Leslie grinned confidently as he watched the blade of his sickle cut right through Pinhead's arm. Now it was Pinhead's turn to be unsure of how to feel, ashamed with himself or impressed with his opponent's unpredictability. However, the longer the two stood like this, the more defeated Leslie felt. Pinhead, while surprised, didn't appear hurt by the weapon protruding through his limb. He stared back at Leslie with a cold, hellish look of acknowledgement.

Suddenly, Leslie felt a chain wrap itself around his neck from behind, gripping tightly and choking him. He let go of Pinhead and his sickle, grabbed the chain and tried to remove it from his neck, but it proved to be in vain as it pulled him away from Pinhead. The Cenobite remained unwavering, now free from Leslie's grasp, as he held the sickle handle and bluntly pulled it from out of his arm like he didn't even register the pain.

Leslie was defenceless at this point, unable to remove the chain coiling around his neck like a snake with its prey. He watched as Pinhead completely removed the sickle from his flesh and approached him. Almost playfully, Pinhead faintly ran the tip of the blade of Leslie's face, not enough to cut into the skin. The moment didn't last long, as Leslie was hoisted higher into the air before thrown into the wall. He felt the full impact and began to slide down to the ground until it felt something stab into his hand and held him in place.

He cried out and grabbed his wrist trying to subdue the pain in any way. He looked up to see his own sickle had been thrown by Pinhead and kept him trapped against the wall. He didn't even bother with Pinhead anymore. All he cared about was removing the blade from the palm of his hand. He grabbed the handle and pulled as hard as he could, ignoring the blood trickling down the wall. Eventually, he freed himself and slumped down onto the ground.

Not wanting to appear weak, he held back a whimper and tightened his fist, ignoring the pain for now. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mask discarded on the ground. Using his good hand, he reached over and picked it up. It was as almost battered and broken as his body. A small part of him wondered how much more of this punishment he could take. After placing his mask back over his face, he looked up expecting to see Pinhead, but instead saw something else, a group of small children playing skip-rope and singing in a dream-like manner.

''One, two…Freddy's coming for you!''

Their song continued as Leslie stood back on his shaky feet. His body felt warm, and the blue light around the room turned a devilish red. The room had changed once again. Now it took on the appearance of a boiler-room of some kind. Pipes ran from one side of the room to the other like cobwebs. Steam and smoke puff out from the machinery, blinding Leslie temporarily. He waved his hand, hoping to clear a line of vision, and lucky for him that he did, because at that moment a claw-like hand scratched at him.

He ducked out of the way and turned around to see that he was not alone anymore. Giving off a sinister chuckle, and scraping his metal fingers together, he stalked Leslie, moving closer and closer. His striped sweater and bowler hat almost blended into the fiery background, but it didn't take a genius to recognise the disfigured individual.

He had stepped into the nightmarish world of Freddy Krueger.

Leslie thrust the sickle towards Krueger, who evaporated into the thick steam with a wicked grin. The dream demon was once again invisible to the naked eye. He could be anywhere, or everywhere. Knowing this, Leslie kept his guard up at all times, anticipating some kind of attack to come his way. It felt like he was all around him, drifting in the air like a foul odour. All of Leslie's senses were kicked into overdrive.

Then, something impacted his sickle, causing sparks to fly up towards his face, threatening to burn his eyes. Leslie sidestepped away until he felt someone grab him by the shoulder and shove him hard against the wall, pinning him in place. He cried out in pain as four long knives scraped his shoulder and he was released from Freddy's grasp. Without even looking, he cut his sickle and managed to hit Freddy, causing a large gash to form along the burnt killer's chest. A yelp escaped Freddy and he backed away, shielding his chest from any more of Leslie's attacks.

Leslie wasn't going to give Freddy time to recover. He frantically cut and slashed at Freddy, practically cutting him to ribbons as blood flew everywhere.

After a solid minute of hacking at Freddy like a madman, Leslie needed time to catch his breath, as he stared and marvelled at his handiwork. Freddy coughed wheezily and stumbled around, blood dripping from every cut and gash. It was miraculous that he wasn't shredded into a dozen different pieces. Not even a moment later, Freddy's heavy sighs turned into dark chuckles as he stood up straight, making sure that the exhausted rookie had a good view of every cut. Freddy snapped his fingers, and instantly all of his wounds disappeared and he was good as new, leaving Leslie distraught.

Without warning, Freddy was now the one on the attack, backing Leslie up against the wall again as he jabbed his claw at him. Leslie defended himself to the best of his ability, before finding a chance to counter. He cut across at Freddy, only for the demonic foe to literally sink into the ground and disappear. Suddenly, two hands erupted from the ground as if they were part of it, grabbed Leslie's ankles and pulled him down with tremendous force.

Leslie was slammed into the floor so hard, he bounced off the surface. But Freddy wasn't done, not a chance. He emerged from the ground like a shark bursting from the ocean's surface, grabbed Leslie by the back of the head and held him up high. Before Leslie could do anything, he felt something thin but strong wrap around his neck and hold him up in place. Dangling in the air with no way to protect himself, Freddy had the opportunity to really enjoy himself. He reached behind his back and pulled out a large baseball bat from seemingly nowhere. He tested its weight for a moment, not that he even needed to, he just wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer. He sent a thundering whack right into Leslie's stomach.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

One after another, the hits went on and on. Freddy was toying with him, like a piñata, and if Leslie didn't act quickly, he would be cracked open like one. Using what little strength he had left, Leslie reached up and used his sickle to cut the thread holding him up, and he was finally free.

Practically on autopilot at the moment, Leslie blocked Freddy's next attack with his sickle, the curved blade digging into the wooden bat. He had Freddy right where he wanted him now. Before the dream demon could try something else, Leslie grabbed him by the neck and charged towards the balcony door. The two of them crashed through the glass door, Freddy taking the full impact before they broke through the porch and both went over the edge.

Leslie crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. If he didn't have any broken bones yet, he surely would do now. Freddy was the least of his concerns right now, as his hand buried into the grassy ground and he tried to push himself up. He weakly turned his head and looked up towards the house, towards the balcony from where they fell. That's when he noticed the house was different once again. It wasn't the Elm Street Manor.

Speaking of which, Freddy seemed to have disappeared as well. He stood up, his body hunched and his leg hurting every time he tried to straighten it. He felt warm again like he was standing next to a warm flame. Looking for the source of the warmth, he realised it was coming from all directions. He found himself surrounded by a dozen or so small jack-o-lanterns. Each pumpkin that circled him was carved with a different expression. Some friendly, some terrifying, all of them with flames burning from the inside and out through the small openings on their heads.

Because of the light of the flames, Leslie saw a shadowy figure eclipsed over him. The figure was tall, with a kitchen knife in one hand, and a blank, pale, emotionless mask covering his face. The figure titled his head from one side to the other slowly, inspecting Leslie curiously. All the while, Leslie turned and prepared himself, knowing what was about to happen next.

This was now the home of Michael Myers.

Leslie sprinted towards Michael…well, he attempted. His legs were shattered. They only had the power to slowly carry him a short distance. Leslie's body weaved warily from side to side. If he wasn't careful, he could collapse on the ground without Michael even needing to land a single strike. Eventually, he was within striking distance and threw back his arm before aiming his sickle for the side of Michael's head. The silent killer easily grabbed Leslie's arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Not backing down, Leslie started punching with his other hand. BAM! BAM! BAM!

Each punch reached their target, striking Michael across the cheek. However, Michael didn't topple over, at this point, Leslie had no strength left to out-muscle his opponent. Leslie hesitated, and this gave Michael the chance to grab Leslie's shoulder and throw him into the air, over his head and back down onto the ground. Leslie's body was like glass as he hit the ground yet again. But the beating wasn't done, not by a long shot. Michael lifted his foot and stomped hard on Leslie's back, crushing him into the ground.

He tried to hoist himself up, but Michael's strength was far superior to his own. He was trapped like a hunted animal. Leslie's hand tensed and he punched the ground in anger. He wasn't going to die today. He had too much to do. He had no legacy, unlike the killers he had faced tonight.

His arm swung outwards, hoping to at least make some kind of impact. He managed to snag his sickle around Michael's leg, and he pulled, tripping Michael over and causing the giant to fall on his back. Leslie hopped on top of Michael and unleashed a flurry of punches to Michael's face. Then he raised his sickle and stabbed the blade into Michael's chest. It embedded deep into Michael's skin. Michael gripped both sides of Leslie's head, pressing inwards to try and crush his skull. This only gave Leslie more initiative to push his weapon deeper into Michael's skin.

BAM! Knowing he was going to bleed out first, Michael lifted his head off the ground and brought Leslie's closer, causing their foreheads to crash together. The impact was so fierce that Leslie's mask cracked and broke in half. The two halves fell daintily to the ground, whilst Leslie flopped on his back and off of Michael. The Shape lifted himself off the ground, his upper-body casually sitting upright as he stared down at the bloody sickle still stuck in his chest. As Leslie lay dreary and half-conscious on the ground, Michael grabbed the handle, pulled the weapon out from his body and held onto it as he approached his downed foe.

Leslie knew he was finished. He had nothing left to fight with. But, he knew that if he were going to go down tonight, it would not be with his back on the ground. His shaky arms pressed against the ground and he pushed himself upright. For some reason, Michael appeared to be allowing him the time he needed to stand on his feet, even if his body was hunched over. The rookie's vision was blurry and worsened due to the blood running down from his forehead. But he didn't need to see, he could hear.

He heard the footsteps of others stepping out of the shadows. Finally, he had the energy to raise his head and gaze upon the other slashers that had joined Michael and circled him.

Leatherface, Jason, Chucky, Pinhead, Freddy and Michael all stood around calmly and watched with great interest at Leslie, waiting anxiously to see if he would get back up or submit. Each of their signature weapons was at the ready, though they didn't use them. Again, it was as if they were waiting to see if Leslie's own body would give out before they would even need to use them.

Despite his bleak and hopeless situation, Leslie couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, as he stood trapped by his 'heroes'. He had fought all of them and had given each of them a terrific show, even though he had no supernatural abilities or otherworldly powers. Just because he was the new kid on the block, that didn't mean he was just going to be pushed to the sidelines. No, he wanted to be the next big star, and he was willing to fight to the death to prove it.

After what felt like an eternity, he stood up straight, lifted his head and greeted each of them with a cocky smile.

Before he could breathe, each of the slashers attacked with their weapons, and all Leslie saw afterwards was blackness.

Leslie slouched forward, nestled on his hands and knees and breathing heavily, trying to come back to reality. Sweat rained down his forehead, and his arms ached, but not as much as he thought they had just a few moments ago. There was no blood, no cuts, no bruises…only the perception in his mind of what had just transpired. He needed a moment to adjust himself back into reality, gazing at small candles contained around him like a circle, the only other source of light coming from the full moon shining outside the cabin window.

Then he remembered he wasn't alone. An older gentleman approached him, kneeling down until he was on the same level as Leslie, face-to-face. Leslie needed a moment to even put a name to the familiar face. Reality and fantasy blurred together, just as Eugene had told him it would when undergoing the initiation. But Leslie had pulled through it, he knew that to be so as Eugene offered him a proud smile before handing Leslie his trademark green fright mask.

''You're ready!'' Eugene told him.

Feeling fulfilled, Leslie grabbed the mask without hesitation. He was no longer Leslie Mancuso. It was time to create his own legacy, the next scary campfire story told by unsuspecting victims…become the next legend.

Leslie Vernon was born.

The End!

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