"His Territory"

Fall, 2010...

"And it was here, in the fall of 2003, at what was once known as Camp Crystal Lake, that the last victims were found." Cindy Valentine said, a dark, stern expression on her face. "Forest Green, the name Crystal Lake has since adopted in an attempt to distance itself from its own dark past, is infamous for its bizarre string of gruesome serial murders, dating all the way back to 1957. But what was it that connected these murders in particular to those concurrently taking place in Springwood within the same twenty four hour period? Some would say coincidence... until one pointed out that two of the victims found here at the campsite were, themselves, from Springwood."

Cindy stood below the wooden archway entrance to the camp, which still read "Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake!" A smaller, temporary sign just to the left of the dirt road that lead through the archway, read : "Coming, Summer 2011: Camp Forest Green!", though someone had crudely crossed out the words "Forest Green" in red spray paint, spraying the word "BLOOD" in big block letters directly above the "correction". Cindy was an extremely attractive, long-legged young woman. She had short, red hair that stopped just short of her collar, currently pushed back with a black headband. She was wearing a very professional looking (though very short) beige dress skirt, and matching jacket. .

Several yards in front of her, Kyle Stark stood, taking it all in with his digital camcorder, getting a quick shot of the "coming soon!" sign, before turning the camera to where it had been aimed previously: The hemline of Cindy's skirt, and the milky skin of her upper thighs. Kyle was a good looking young man, though his features were somewhat spoiled by the dopey grin currently plastered on his face. He was twenty years old, the same age as Cindy, with long shaggy blonde hair, most of it stuffed up under a red baseball cap. He wore a blue t-shirt and a pair of knee-length, cutoff blue jeans and a black pair of Chuck Taylor's on his feet.

To his left stood Lisa Clifton, a notepad in her right hand, her left hand on her hip. She too was the same age as Kyle and Cindy. Her long, jet black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a tank top and a pair of khaki shorts. In her right hand she held a clipboard. Her left was on her hip. And an exasperated expression rested on her face. She exhaled loudly as she watched Cindy, oblivious to where Kyle was pointing the camera.

On Kyle's right, stood Mitch Monroe, the oldest of the four. He too wore a baseball cap, his a black "Yankees" cap. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and a shaggy, weekend's worth of not-quite-beard grew on his expressionless face. He wore a khaki vest, over a black t-shirt, and blue jeans. He wore a bulky pair of headphones on his ears, which were connected by a wire to a large, tape recorder strapped to his hip. The tape recorder itself, was, in turn, attached to the long boom mic, he held up, toward Cindy's general direction.

"Are these two sets of murders connected?" Cindy asked the camera, her eyes narrowing. Overhead, thunder rumbled softly through the overcast sky. The trees that surrounded them on all sides swayed gently in the growing, cool breeze. There was going to be a storm. "Were the Springwood murders perhaps perpetuated by yet another Jacob Voorhees copycat killer? Or-"

"Cut!" Lisa snapped loudly. Kyle and Mitch slowly lowered their equipment, exchanging glances.

Cindy's shoulders slumped. "What? What is it? What'd I do wrong now?"

Lisa marched up to Cindy and thrust the clipboard into the other girl's hands. She pointed at a name in the middle of the page. "What does that say?"

Cindy's eyes scanned the paper a moment, before closing. She sighed. "It says Jason Voorhees."

"Right!" Lisa crossed her arms, and fixed Cindy with a glare. "What did you say."

"Jacob Voorhees."

"Right again!" Lisa nodded. "Now, last question: why in God's name can't you get this fucking take right?"

Kyle and Mitch glanced at each other again. Kyle rolled his eyes and Mitch shook his head. Here they went again.

Cindy ran a hand through her hair, pulling her headband out, "I don't know. I'm sorry, Lisa. I think it's this place, it... it gives me the creeps! I haven't felt right since we got here, and that old man..." she trailed off. "It's just really throwing me off, okay?"

"No!" Lisa snatched the clipboard back, out of her hands. "It's not okay! This Crystal Lake/Forest Green segment is supposed to be the shortest part of the Elm Street House documentary! It's so tangential! Barely connected at all! This was supposed to be a one day trip, a quick stop off at the police station to ask a few questions, and then a quick stop off here at the Camp to shoot a five minute scene! We got here at 3 o'clock this afternoon. Kyle!" she called over her shoulder to the camera man. "What time is it now?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, before looking at his watch. "Almost six thirty, Lis."

"Three and a half fucking hours!" Lisa turned back to Cindy. "Three and a half hours, and you can't get a goddamn five minute scene right! Aren't you a performance major? Are you learning anything in your classes!"

"Hey." Mitch called out suddenly. "That's not fair. She got rattled, Lisa. That old guy rattled all of us."

"Yeah." Cindy nodded, remembering. "Including you, Lisa."

It had been extraordinarily creepy. There had been absolutely no one on the town's main street when they'd arrived in the otherwise pleasant looking Forest Green, despite it being the middle of a Sunday afternoon. Cindy had noticed only the shopkeeper at the general store across the street, sweeping the steps when they'd gotten out of the van at the police station. She'd also noticed how he stopped and stared at them as they went inside.

The police hadn't helped matters either. The officer at the front desk had turned immediately hostile when Lisa mentioned the name Jason Voorhees, and had told the kids they'd better mind their own business, and get out of town. And stay away from the campgrounds!

Lisa had gotten all offended (of course) and shouted something about refusing to be threatened away from her story. But the policeman's tone hadn't sounded threatening to Cindy. It had sounded more like a warning. Almost a pleading.

When they left the police station (they had been, in fact, thrown out after Lisa and the cop at the front desk had argued for more than twenty minutes) the old man who had been sweeping across the street had been standing by their van, peering in through the passenger side window. This had rubbed Lisa the wrong way.

"Excuse me," she marched over to where the old man stood, grabbing him by the shoulder, and roughly turning him to face her. "There something I can help you with, old timer?"

The old man hadn't looked shocked at all. He simply stared straight into Lisa's eyes.

"There's a darkness in your future," he rumbled, his voice deep, and wavery. "In all of your futures. Yours especially though. Give it up. Whatever it is you're up to, give it up."

Lisa blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"It's his territory!" The old man's voice rose. "His! It ain't got nuthin' to do with you, and it ain't nothin' but trouble when folks like you go pokin' around up there!"

"What's whose territory?" Kyle had asked from over Lisa's shoulder.

"Damn fool!" The old man had snapped. "The campgrounds! The campgrounds are his! Stay away from them if you know what's good for you."

A condescending tone crept into Lisa's voice. "Alright, buddy, just-"

"No!" the old man was becoming frantic. "It's bad enough the damn developers are trying to open that camp again! How many more times is it going to take? How many more kids are gonna have to die? The camp is cursed! It's the lake... there's a blackness seeping from it's depths. I've seen it! It hangs over the water like a bloated, black, thundercloud! It created him! It's corrupted the land... soured it!"

A dark smile crept over Lisa's face, and a devious glint that Cindy recognized as a sign of piqued interest twinkled in her eye. "This him you keep mentioning... you think it's Jason Voorhees, don't you?"

Without warning the old man had viciously slapped her across the face. Lisa stumbled backward, holding her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.

"Hey!" Kyle took a step forward, but Mitch caught him by the arm. The old man looked at them all now.

"We don't say his name. Not anymore. Not out loud" his voice had gone softer again. "Doomed. You're all doomed! If you go into his territory... he'll kill ya. All of ya!." his eyes locked on Cindy's. "Every last one..." he suddenly looked back at Lisa, and his eyes widened. "You... you spread your curse to others, like a plague! If you don't end your mad quest, it's going to end you and everyone around you!" he slowly backed away from her, before turning around and hobbling back across the street as quickly as he could. He quickly climbed the steps of the general store, barreled through the door, and slammed it behind him. A moment later, the "OPEN" sign on the door flipped to "CLOSED."

Kyle glanced to Lisa. "Lis... you okay?"

Lisa pulled her hand away from her face, checking it for blood. Her cheek had gone a bright red. "Old fucker hit me!"

"He... he said the camp was cursed." Cindy said in a small voice. The old man had frightened her badly. It was something about his eyes. "Maybe... maybe we should just go back to Springwood. You know, this Camp Forest Green segment isn't the most vital part of the-"

"We're going to the campgrounds." Lisa said sharply. She went around to the driver's side door, ripped it open, and climbed inside. Cindy knew it was useless to argue with her now. The old man had slapped her and told her not to go. Therefore, nothing on heaven or earth would stop Lisa Clifton from going to Camp Forest Green now.

And so they had gone. And so now here they were. Where they'd been for the past three hours. The cloud covered sky had grown very dark now. The sun must've been starting to go down. Cindy glanced around nervously. She really didn't want to still be here when night fell.

Lisa turned to Kyle. "Alright. Let me see the footage we've got. Maybe we'll have something salvageable."

Kyle's eyes widened. "Uh... nah, we should probably just do another take. The footage is pretty shitty."

Lisa nodded. "Well, you shot it, I'm sure it is. But it's getting late, and I'm tired of being here. So if we have something usable, we can leave. Now, let me see the fucking camera."

Kyle glanced over at Mitch, who sighed deeply, removing his sunglasses, and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Lisa looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Something you two wanna fill me in on?"

Mitch shook his head, replacing his shades. "Nope. Kyle, show her what you shot."

Kyle shot him a dirty look, before hesitantly handing the camera to Lisa. "Um... you have to understand... I didn't exactly think the take was working out, so, uh... I kinda let the lense, ya know... wander."

Lisa sighed, and put her eye up against the eye piece, pressing play. She watched for a few moments, before lowering the camera, wheeling on Kyle, and punching him in the chest, hard.

"Ow!" Kyle stumbled back.

Lisa advanced on him. "You fucking idiot!" she growled. "You stupid, disgusting, fucking idiot!"

"What?" Cindy asked. "What is it?"

"Kyle spent the last half of the take shooting closeups of your crotch." Mitch said simply. He had begun dismantling the boom mic equipment, and placing the pieces in their cases.

"What?" Cindy wheeled on Kyle now too, folding her hands defensively across her lower abdomen. "Kyle, gross!"

Kyle, meanwhile, had been backed up against the side of the van, which was parked just off the dirt road, a few yards away from the archway. "Lisa, take it easy! I mean, how important is this scene to the whole of the documentary? The whole thing's about that house in Springwood, right? So, it doesn't really matter, right?"

Lisa didn't reply. She simply grabbed fistfuls of Kyle's shirt with both hands and began slamming him repeatedly into the side of the van. Cindy watched, wide-eyed. Mitch, meanwhile, had finally managed to pack up his equipment, hefting two of cases in which the dismantled pieces were packed, carrying them toward the van, and leaving the third larger case for the moment. He had almost reached the van's rear doors, when Lisa suddenly looked over at him, her hands still clenching Kyle's shirt. Slowly, Kyle's scrunched shut eyes opened, when he realized the beatings had, at least for the moment, ceased.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lisa said to Mitch.

"Packing up my shit." Mitch set down one of the cases, using his free hand to open the doors. "Kyle's right. This scene doesn't matter. It's not gonna make or break your documentary if we have a five second shot of Cindy standing under that archway."

Lisa let go of Kyle, fully turning to Mitch now. "I'm sorry. Did I say we were finished filming here?"

Mitch sighed, as he tossed the second case in the back of the van. "Lisa, seriously, what does it fucking matter?"

"Did I say we were done."

"Lisa-"

"Did I?"

Mitch's jaw clenched. Though his sunglasses hid it, Cindy suspected his eyes had narrowed to slits. "No. You didn't."

"Alright." Lisa nodded. "We have that much established. Now, tell me... which of the two of us is directing this documentary? Which of us, in fact, started this whole project? And which of the two of us is getting graded on this project in two and a half weeks? This fucking project is worth fifty percent of my final grade in my film directing class, do you understand that? And we are already so far behind schedule."

"Don't forget that Berger said that this was your last chance to pass his class." Kyle chimed in. Lisa slowly turned her head to glare at him, and Kyle shrank back.

Mitch, meanwhile, shrugged. "That's not my fault, and it's not my problem. You're the one that already failed his class twice. Like you said, you're getting graded on this, not me. There's no reason I should have to put up with this bullshit from you. There's no reason any of us should." Mitch paused a moment at this, as if considering. Finally, he nodded. "In fact, I'm not going to any longer. I quit."

Lisa's eyes went wide. "What?"

Mitch nodded again. "Yeah. I quit. I fucking quit. You've treated me like shit this whole time, and I'm done with this. It's your grade, it's your problem, you fucking deal with it. Bitch."

Cindy felt her heart skip a beat. She hopped, excitedly, from where she still stood beneath the Campground archway. "I quit too!"

Lisa whirled on her now. "You what? You can't – you – you what?"

Cindy nodded. She'd been wanting to quit the documentary for weeks now. Lisa was such a nasty person, and she was so mean! But that was just it. Cindy had been too afraid to stand up to Lisa by herself. Not only that, but she would have felt like a crybaby, if she was to just up and leave by herself, just because she didn't like the director yelling at her. She knew that was something she should probably get used to as an aspiring actress. But seeing Mitch do it just now, and knowing she wouldn't be walking away from this alone – knowing that someone else was having as much trouble dealing with Lisa as her – that changed her whole perspective. "I quit too! I've hated working on this documentary, Lisa. You expect everyone to pitch in and do their part to help you get your grade, but all they get out of it in return is you treating them like shit! Why should anyone do that?"

Mitch looked over at her and smiled. She smiled back.

Lisa looked back and forth between the two of them, the expression of shock on her face slowly morphing to one of anger. "Well isn't that just fucking great!" She turned back to Kyle. "What about you? Are you quitting on me too?"

Kyle paused a moment, glancing over to Mitch, then over to Cindy, before looking back at Lisa, who he was standing closest to. Finally he shook his head. "Naw, Lis, I'm still in."

Cindy's face fell a bit at that... but it didn't matter. She'd already quit, she didn't want to go back, and even if she did, she knew she couldn't. But it was okay, because Mitch had quit too! Lisa was being unreasonable.

Cindy wasn't aware of the depths of unreasonableness Lisa was capable of reaching. But she was about to find out.

Lisa's face softened a bit after Kyle had said he was staying with her, but it didn't last long. As Mitch turned and began to walk to get the last case of his equipment, Lisa's expression quickly hardened again, and she marched up to Kyle, and grabbed him by the elbow.

"Lis, what're you-" was all Kyle was able to get out before Lisa shoved him through the van's still open rear doors, slamming them behind him, and sprinting to the van's front seat. She got in, gunned the engine, and took off down the dirt road.

"What the fuck?" Mitch started after the van, his equipment forgotten momentarily as he shouted after the departing vehicle. "LISA, WHAT THE FUCK? YOU CAN'T JUST FUCKING LEAVE US HERE!"

Several yards down the path, the van stopped, and the window rolled down. Lisa leaned out. "You're right, Mitch. My documentary isn't your problem. And how you're going to find your way back to Springwood – or Athens, for that matter – isn't mine!" And with that, she floored it again, just before Mitch was able to reach the back doors. A cloud of dust kicked up into Mitch's face, and by the time it had cleared, the van was already almost out of sight.

"That fucking bitch." Mitch said softly. He suddenly reached down, and picked up a large rock, hurling it after the van. "That fucking bitch!"

Cindy was shocked beyond words. Lisa had left. More than that, she'd stranded them there. Cindy was suddenly very aware of how dark it had gotten, and how quiet the surrounding woods had suddenly grown.

A sudden blast of thunder caused Cindy to scream. The storm was almost right on top of them.

Lisa and Kyle rode in silence. It had taken a moment for Kyle to get his bearings and realize what had just happened, and another to make his way from the back of the van to the passenger seat. Now Kyle sat next to Lisa, watching her wide-eyed as she stared straight ahead, a dark glare on her face.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "So, uh... we gonna go back and get them? Lesson learned and all that?"

"No." Lisa didn't look at him. Kyle hadn't seen her like this before. He got the impression that leaving Mitch and Cindy behind had been an act of pure impulse, and Lisa was deliberately not allowing herself to think too much about it, for fear of realizing how insanely bitchtastic it was. She was pissed, and she intended to stay pissed and stick by her decision, no matter how rash (or wrong) it was.

"Lis... seriously... we should probably not, ya know, leave them here. Alone. In the dark. When it's getting ready to storm." It had begun to grow very dark now, a combination of the storm rolling in, and the sun going down. Kyle couldn't see it, but he had a feeling sunset had just about run its course. He glanced out the window. Trees surrounded them on both sides of the narrow road, the lengthening shadows making it impossible to discern just how thick the forest really was. It made him very uneasy. He locked his door.

"We're not going back." Lisa said firmly. She flipped on the headlights. Ahead in the road, a raccoon froze in the sudden light momentarily, before diving off into the foliage. "Mitch is an asshole, and Cindy is a moron. A night in the cold rain will do them some good. Besides, they've got cell phones. They'll survive."

Kyle hadn't thought of that. He quickly pulled out his cell phone, flipping it open and glancing at the display window. "Well, I hope they don't use Verizon. There's absolutely no fucking signal out here." He glanced at Lisa again, quickly, before replacing his phone.

A flash of lightning illuminated what little of the overcast sky that was visible directly above them. It was a few seconds before a low rumble of thunder followed. Lisa casually reached over and locked her door as well.

Kyle felt the need to go back and get Mitch and Cindy slowly start to fade. The need to leave was replacing it. What was it about this place?

The van's headlights suddenly revealed a glint up a ways, off to the side of the road. As they drew closer, Kyle saw that it was a police car. A policeman, different than the one they'd encountered at the station, younger, stepped out of the driver's side, and waved to them. Lisa drove straight past him, not looking back.

Kyle glanced at her again. "Lisa, I think he was waving you down."

Lisa shrugged. "Let him come after me then."

Kyle glanced in the review mirror. The cop was staring after them, but making no attempt to follow. Kyle felt a strong relief wash over him. Lisa had begun to speed up noticeably. Kyle knew she would never admit it, but she wanted out of here just as bad as he did.

"So." he asked after a moment. "Where we headed to now then?"

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Where do you think, genius?"

"Back to Springwood?"

"Back to Springwood."

Kyle arched an eyebrow. "Without a microphone operator? Or a host?"

"I'll host. We'll have to reshoot the two or three scenes that Cindy was actually on camera for. We can just redub the rest. And that camera of yours has a pretty powerful microphone, doesn't it?"

Kyle nodded. "Next best thing to boom."

"Right. Plus, we have the wireless lapel mics. We'll make do. It's... going to set us back a bit behind schedule." Lisa's voice faltered a bit as she said this as if it was the first time she'd considered it. "But, I think we can pull it off. We managed to shed a lot of this team's weight without losing any of the talent."

It took a moment for Kyle to grasp just what Lisa had said. "Did you just say I have talent?"

Lisa sighed. "Kyle, shut the hell up."

"You say such sweet things!"

Lisa rolled her eyes and responded no further. Kyle grinned, putting his hands behind his head, and leaning back in the chair. Yeah, they'd lost Mitch and Cindy. But Mitch was kind of a dick, and Cindy, as hot as she was, really had a head full of rocks. So no big loss there.

Of course, there'd probably be hell to pay once they ran into Cindy and Mitch in the future. They all went to the same school back in Athens, the University of Ohio, and were all taking classes in the same department, so it was bound to happen sooner or later. But Kyle was willing to burn that bridge when they crossed it.

Plus, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, Forest Green gave him the fucking creeps. He felt like he'd been in that town from Deliverance, ever since they'd arrived that afternoon. Especially after being yelled at by that fat redneck cop, and watching that old man hit Lisa. It was good to be leaving. To be heading back to Springwood.

Where it was safe.

Deputy John Miller swore under his breath as he watched the van's tail lights disappear into the darkness down the road. He supposed he should've expected those college kids from out of town to be keeping their distance, especially after the irrational way Sheriff Bozza had behaved when they'd come into the station earlier. Though, seeing as how his cruiser (the only cruiser at Forest Green's disposal, in fact) had broken down, and his dash radio didn't seem to want to transmit, it would've been a lot more convenient for him if they had stopped when he'd flagged them down. He was going to have to walk now, and judging by the dropping temperature, rising wind, and ominous rumbling in the distance, one hell of a storm was on its way.

It was true, Miller had only been an officer here for about three months, since he transferred from St. Louis, so he didn't know firsthand the kind of havoc that had been wreaked in the name of the local Voorhees legend, but he still didn't think that was any reason to scream at a bunch of kids and order them to leave the town, just for mentioning a name. He'd been sent out here by Sheriff Bozza to make sure the kids left, and he'd intended on apologizing to them as well for the Sheriff's actions earlier.

Bozza had also told him to keep an eye out for three teenagers from the neighboring town of Apple Creek who'd been seen buying camping supplies at the General Store. Though they'd sworn to Eustace, the General Store's proprietor (who was even battier than Sheriff Bozza) that they were only passing through on the way to their real destination, Lake Treehorn, Eustace had come into the station ranting and raving that he'd seen their station wagon take a turn down the dirt road leading to the old campgrounds.

This had been before the college kids had shown up, so it may have partially explained why Bozza was so worked up by that dark haired girl... what had her name been? Lizzy? Elise? He supposed that it really didn't matter.

On top of that, a constant trouble maker named Tommy Jarvis had been spotted in town recently, too. According to files, Tommy, a former mental patient, had been stirring up shit in Forest Green since the late '80's. When developers announced, back in 2002, their intentions to renovate and reopen Camp Crystal Lake, Tommy had shown up, almost like magic, and tried to start a town wide petition to stop them. The developers (Weyland-Yutani, some American/Japanese merger company) were huge, however, and even if the entire town had signed Tommy's petition, which they hadn't, Miller doubted it would've halted construction. The town was desperate to revitalize, having become almost a ghost town during the late '80's and early '90's.

Then, in the fall of 2003, when the camp was still undergoing renovation, it had mysteriously burned down. And Tommy mysteriously dropped off the radar right afterward. The thought of being stranded out in the dark woods during a storm while some crazed pyro might be anywhere wasn't exactly comforting.

So to take stock, he'd been sent out here to chase off some student film makers, possibly some high school kids, all the while keeping an eye out for a crazy arsonist.

Miller sighed, glancing at the car again. He'd already tried to restart it three times now. The last time it hadn't even tried to turn over. It just gave a dull click, then nothing. Forest Green's police department had become way underfunded, in the attempts to revitalize every other part of the town, and this, their lone, P.O.S. Cruiser was the apex of that neglect.

From the woods behind him, across the dirt road, he heard a branch snap loudly. He quickly spun in the direction of the sound, his hand instinctively going to his gun holster. His eyes scanned the darkness.

"Hello?" Silence was the only response. Miller's hand moved from his gun, to his flashlight. He drew it and shined it on the woods, in the direction he thought he heard the sound.

Trees and nothing more. A low level fog was slowly beginning to gather along the ground. Thunder rumbled softly overhead once more. Miller started to lower his flashlight. He supposed-

With an unearthly scream, something came running out of the woods where he had been shining his flashlight. Miller cried out sharply and drew his gun, just as the creature darted into his flashlight's beam and froze.

It was just a raccoon.

Miller exhaled deeply. "Son of a bitch. You scared the hell out of me, you stupid fuckin' thing."

The raccoon responded by hissing menacingly, before dashing past the police cruiser, and into the woods on the side of the road where it was parked. Miller watched it go... and froze.

Just within the line of trees on his side of the road, near where the raccoon had run, a shape was standing. It was a man, from the looks of it. A very, very large man.

Miller felt a lump rise in his throat. Tommy Jarvis. This huge thing must be that psycho Tommy Jarvis. Miller quickly raised his gun and pointed it at the shape. "Alright, I see you out there. Come on out of the woods, slowly."

The shape didn't move. It just stood there. Watching Miller. Good Christ, this guy was huge! His shoulders had to be at least five feet across, and he must've stood almost seven feet tall. The guy was a monster. He didn't appear to be armed, though, so that was a bit of a relief. Miller was certain he could put him down if he had to.

"Come on, pal," the deputy continued. He raised his flashlight up now, aiming it along the barrel of his pistol, and training the beam on the man standing in the woods.

And immediately wishing he hadn't.

Whoever this was, Miller was somehow certain it wasn't Tommy Jarvis.

The hockey mask was the first thing that caught Miller's attention. It was battered, smeared with mud, and stained a sickly, yellowish color, but it was definitely a hockey mask. It was covering the man's face, though in the darkness, Miller couldn't see his eyes. Just the two, black holes of the mask. The man's clothes were tattered, soaked, and ancient looking. They looked like work clothes, dark brown, pants, boots, a shirt, and a heavy, brown coat over it. Gloves covered his hands.

But the man's skin. There was something wrong with his skin. He was bald, and his skin was a horrible, blackish-blue color.

Back when Miller was working for the police department in St. Louis, he had been called to a crime scene down by the docks near the Martin Luther King Bridge. A corpse had been pulled from the river. That was what this man... this creature... looked like. He looked like a walking, waterlogged, corpse.

Miller took a shaky step back, just as the creature took a slow, deliberate one forward.

"S-stay back!" Miller said, raising the gun again. "Just... just stay where you are, alright?"

The creature didn't heed his warning. It took another step, walking slowly, deliberately toward him. Maybe it didn't see the gun! Miller fired it once in the air. "Stay back! Last chance!"

The thing didn't falter at all, didn't even pause even when the shot went off. It stepped out of the woods. It was less than eight feet from Miller now. It continued toward the road, toward him.

Without thinking about it, Miller fired a shot. The bullet punched a hole in the forehead of the hockey mask, and finally the creature stopped. Miller gasped, as he slowly realized he'd just shot a man in the head for doing little more than walking out of the woods.

The man... the creature... didn't fall. After a moment, it continued toward Miller. It's steps became quicker, and its gait had a distinctly aggressive feel to it.

Miller raised the gun, and once again without thinking about it began firing. He pulled the trigger over and over. Bullets ripped into the creatures arms, its chest, its face. Blackish muck oozed from the wounds, but the creature didn't even slow down now. In fact, its speed seemed to have increased.

It was about this time that Miller realized his gun had begun clicking impotently. He was out of bullets. Horrified, he turned to run. He didn't know where he was going to run to, but he didn't care. Away. Away from this enormous monster, this giant thing. This boogeyman out in the woods.

But it was too late. Miller felt an enormous, gloved hand catch him by the back of the throat. The creature lifted him into the air, swung him around, and viciously slammed his face into the hood of his cruiser, with a huge bang. Miller felt his nose shatter, he felt his front teeth break. He felt an incredibly painful pop in his right eye, and a warm liquid began oozing through his eye lid. Vaguely, Miller realized his eye had punctured. The creature drew him back, and Miller saw, through the bloody haze of his remaining left eye, that he'd left a dent six inches deep on the cruiser's hood. The creature then slammed his face into the hood again. Miller felt more teeth break, he felt his lower jaw completely separate from the rest of his skull. Blindness engulfed him as his left eye was now obliterated too. His forehead felt caved in, and he could feel warm fluids running out of his ears.

The creature drew Miller back, and slammed his ruined face into the hood once more.

Rational thought was now gone. Pain had completely engulfed Miller's very being, along with a primal desire to die and end it.

With a wet, squelch, the creature peeled the remains of John Miller's face off the hood, before slamming it one last time against the car. And Miller's desire was granted.

Jason held up the corpse of the policeman after slamming him against the car the last time and waited to see if he'd move again. When he didn't, Jason tossed what was left of him across the car's hood, and glanced down the road.

(Jason... my special, special boy! Mommy is very, very proud of you for keeping all the naughty boys and girls out of our special place! And dispatching any of the wayward adults that would try to help them too! But your work isn't finished yet, darling. There are more out there. More of those awful children, defiling our land. They know what they're doing is wrong. They were warned to stay out, and they chose not to heed those warnings. And now they must be punished.)

Yes. Mother was right. Jason knew there were more of the bad boys and girls out there. He could sense them. Some of them had just left, and that was fine. Let them go. They were of no concern.

But there were more still within the woods. Within the camp. His camp. His territory.

(Find them, Jason, my darling boy. Find them, and punish them. They made the choice to come here. Now they must not leave!)

No. They must not. And they would not. Clenching his fists, Jason began lumbering down the road. Toward Camp Crystal Lake.

Toward his territory...

Author's Note: You guys are going to have to let me know what you think of this. I've never written a Friday the 13th story before, or a story like this in general, so I'm a wee bit nervous. I've definitely got plans to continue, though those plans won't be hindered at all by reviews. Nay, they will in fact be encouraged! So PLEASE read and review!

Also, if you're at all curious as to the fate of the characters Kyle and Lisa... (shameless self-plugging alert)...why not pop over and check out my Nightmare on Elm Street story Nightmare House? Their story, as well as their "mad quest" is continued there.