Night had fallen over the land, stars twinkling like scattered diamonds across the sky.
Too bad the moon was hidden behind thick clouds—it was one of those classic dark and stormy nights, straight out of a campfire ghost story.
Twilight swept across Green Forest County, the lake's reflection shattered by rippling waves.
Creak!
The fishing line twitched—something down there was tugging hard.
Barry perked up, yanking the rod up with a sharp flick.
A silver arc sliced the air, hauling up the hooked fish—success!
It was barely bigger than his pinky finger, but Barry proudly dropped it into the bucket anyway.
Mission accomplished.
Compared to Maria, who hadn't caught squat, he'd cleaned up.
Back at the campsite tents.
The barbecue was just firing up.
Golden chicken wings sizzled perfectly, fat droplets popping and hissing.
As far as family bonding goes, this camping trip wasn't half bad. At least tensions had eased up—everyone was chilling more.
Maria could tell her mom's lingering frustrations weren't weighing as heavy in her eyes anymore, and Dad—Dan—wasn't walking around with that perpetual scowl.
They swapped funny stories, chowing down on that mouthwatering BBQ, the whole family cracking up like old times.
But off in the distance, some off-key drama floated their way.
"Megan, trust me."
"Come on, let's go—get outta here!"
"He's back. He's really back."
A guy's frantic argument echoed through the night air.
"Tommy, cut the dumb lies already. Nobody's buying it."
"A few months ago, you were all 'Jason's back,' and what happened? Jack shit."
"I swear, your head meds must be wearing off. We could've used that energy to get you back to the doc for a check-up."
Over at the Green Forest Winter Camp, Tommy Jarvis—this good-looking dude with a haunted vibe—was locked in a heated spat with the other counselors.
The trigger? Tommy was dead certain that Jason, the Crystal Lake slasher, had risen from the grave and was gearing up for another bloodbath.
Thing is, he'd pulled this exact stunt a few months back. He'd seen it with his own eyes: Jason zapped by lightning, clawing out of his dirt nap, and straight-up punching through a buddy's chest like it was paper.
He'd sounded the alarm then, too—but crickets. No one believed the kid.
And reality backed them up: the old Crystal Lake town, now Green Forest County, hadn't seen a single massacre since.
Tommy couldn't figure it—where the hell had Jason vanished to? Dude didn't even come home.
In the end, Tommy turned into the town joke, branded a nutjob, a total head case.
But tonight? It hit different. As a guy who'd stared down Jason more times than he could count, Tommy's gut was screaming: the big man's back, and he's pissed—packing heat and hate.
If they didn't stop him, history would repeat—Crystal Lake would run red again.
So Tommy was here, ready to throw down and end it.
"You guys don't get it—this is Jason's turf. Home sweet home. He's coming back, mark my words."
Tommy pushed back hard, desperate for buy-in. But last time he dropped this bomb? Nada. Zilch.
"Megan, you believe me, right?"
He turned to his girlfriend of three-plus months, Megan, eyes pleading.
She met his gaze and nodded. "Yeah, Tommy. I've got your back—always have."
"Let's evacuate folks near the lake, grab some gear. Stuff we'll need tonight."
"You got it."
A few minutes later.
Tommy rolled up near Maria's family setup.
"Hey there, name's Tommy. Occult buff—into all that spooky stuff."
"Dan, plastic surgeon. What's up?" Dan stepped forward as the family rep, all business.
"Look, what I'm about to say? Don't freak, but it's legit. All true."
"Uh... okay?"
"There's this nightmare slasher on his way here—no, scratch that, he might already be. You gotta bail. This is life-or-death."
Tommy's face was stone-cold serious—no prankster vibes.
"Whoa, that's wild." Dan paused, then added, "If you don't mind me asking, Tommy—what's your background? Any, uh, therapy history or trauma?"
"Me? Used to work at the psych ward. Few months back, I busted out to hunt down this slasher Jason."
Tommy laid it out straight.
"You were security?"
"Nah—patient."
The air went dead quiet for a beat. Tommy clocked his fumble and backpedaled quick: "I'm dead serious, though. Get out now—sticking around's suicide."
"Gotcha. I'll mull it over, chat with the fam. Thanks for the heads-up, Tommy—appreciate the concern."
Dan gave a polite nod, signaling he was clocking it.
"You have to go—seriously." Tommy wrapped it up and jetted to the supermarket for supplies, prepping for his solo showdown with Jason tonight.
Once Tommy was out of sight, Dan turned to his wife Amy, whose face had gone pale, and soothed her: "Babe, don't sweat it. Guy's clearly off his rocker—just ramblings from a head case."
But when he glanced at his daughter, Maria looked shaken too, like the warning had rattled her cage.
"You alright, sweetie?"
"I just need some alone time. Dad, Mom—promise you won't wander off tonight? I don't wanna lose you in the dark."
"We're right here with you, Maria," Dan reassured her.
...
Inside the tent.
Maria had just wrapped a mental chat with Alan, getting the full download on what went down after that elbow knockout last time—how Alan had stepped in and hijacked the controls for a wild ride.
Jason the slasher? Yeah, that thread was unavoidable.
Just hearing Alan's recap, feeling those heart-pounding echoes, Maria could taste the chase's terror and the fight's raw chaos.
Jason... Jason. Same name—could it be the same monster?
[Oh, it's him. Bet the farm on it.]
Barry's voice chimed in her head right then.
[I just hopped on your phone and dug around. Turns out this spot used to be Crystal Lake Town—Jason's old stomping grounds.]
"Jason's really back?" Maria grabbed the phone, scrolling through the hits on Crystal Lake massacres—decades of bloody lore, all tied to that masked freak.
[That loser's just a warm-up act. Straight talk: I've smoked him so many times, I've lost count. If he shows? Same old story—another W for us.]
Barry oozed that unbreakable swagger. Last time, even with the cheap shot, he'd flipped the script.
And now? In the very camp where Jason could be sealed away for good? It was a lock—Barry couldn't lose if he tried.
No clue how he'd drop the ball here!
Only question was: how flashy would the win be this round?
"Having you around? Total game-changer."
[Damn right. Victory's in the bag.]
"Anything we should watch for?"
Maria racked her brain, then tossed out the question.
[Keep an ear out for screams. Jason's a ghost in the woods—sneaky bastard. Hiding his vibe on his home turf? Makes him a needle in a haystack.]
"Would he come for us first?"
Maria's mind raced to her parents' safety, plus those camp kids she'd spotted that morning—easy a dozen or more, full of that innocent energy.
[Who knows? To him, squashing randos on the path? Like stepping on ants by accident. No biggie.]
A slasher like Jason didn't sweat "overkill"—he played by his own rules, whims as wild as the wind.
Prey? Just two flavors: gotta-murder-now, or save-for-later.
[Best bet's playing defense. Stick tight, no splitting up. Close quarters, and I'll pick up his scent.]
Barry laid it out matter-of-fact.
"Here's hoping for a quiet night." Maria whispered her wish to the stars.
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