This fanfiction is based off the new movie Evil Dead.

The story will obviously be a bit different than the movie, but the concept is the same.

I don't own anything. Everything belongs to their rightful owners.

Evil Dead

Prologue

Gregory Stark wanted nothing more than to lie down in the cold mud and pretend that everything that was happening was just one big nightmare. His body throbbed in agony, screaming at him to stop running; to rest—he needed to rest. Just for a second and maybe it'll all be alright. But he couldn't rest. If he stopped running they would find him. They would kill him. He was sure of it.

He had been running through these woods for what felt like hours, maybe days. Everything seemed exactly the same, and no matter where he turned, no matter how far he ran, it was never enough. Gregory could hear them coming after him; could hear their footsteps behind him, so he ran faster, pushing his exhausted body to the limit, until he just couldn't run anymore.

Gregory fell on his knees, panting hard and gripping a tree for support, his bloodied fingers digging into the trunk of the tree and tearing out pieces of wood.

That's when he heard a twig snap from behind him. Twisting his head to see behind him, Gregory pushed his body up and tried to steady himself. A tall man wearing a dirty gray suit stood a couple yards away, holding a double barrel shotgun at the ground; his mud smeared face masked him, making him almost unrecognizable. The man didn't move-only stared at him with piercing blue eyes, his dirty blonde hair matted together from the dirt and rain; his blond beard looked almost black, the bloodied make shift eye patch couldn't hide the fact that someone had torn out his eye.

Taking a step back, Gregory used the tree to block the man from his line of view, and then turned around-

-only to smack his face into the strong chest of another unknown man. He gasped and backed away quickly, intending to run from the man, but he was grabbed from behind and pushed to the ground. The man kept him pinned, pressing his larger body on Gregory, and in the process, pushing his knee into Gregory's open knife wounds, making the smaller teen cry out in agony.

"Knock the bitch out!" the man holding him screamed as the man with the shotgun walked closer to them. Gregory looked up at him, his wide blue eyes wide with fear and fatigue.

"Please no-"

The man raised the shotgun, slamming the butt of the gun against Gregory's forehead. The teen's head snapped back, his blue eyes rolled into the back of his head as darkness took a hold of him.

Gregory began to wake up slowly, the pain in his head worse than it was before. He didn't know where he was, or what had happened. His vision swam, and it took him a while to realize that something covered his head, preventing him from seeing anything; only shadows. His whole body felt hot from the sheer pain of his wounds, and it was hard to tell if he was standing or sitting; his weak legs barely supported him.

"H-Hello...?" Gregory weakly called out, his voice sounded as if it was being forced through broken glass. He tried to move his hands, only to realize that they were bound behind his back with thick iron chains. His heart began to pound quickly in his chest as panic rose from the pit of his stomach.

"Hello? Is anyone there? I just want to go home..." Gregory cried softly, the chain biting painfully into his wrist as he continues to struggle against it.

He saw a shadow move in front of his, a woman from what he could see. She was short and heavy, and spoke a language he couldn't understand.

"Please!" He sobbed. "Please I just want to go home! Please just let me go...!" Another shadow moved in front of him, getting closer to him. "Please don't hurt me... Please..." Gregory begged. "I just want to go home... I just-"

The bag over his head was ripped off, and the teen couldn't stop the horror from playing across his battered, bleeding features. Standing in front of him was a man that looked so much like him they could pass as brothers. Gregory stared up at the face of his father, Howard Stark, hoping that it was all just some sick twisted nightmare and that he would wake up in the safety of his bed back home, where his annoying baby brother would come bother him and his mother would call them down for breakfast. How he would kill to be able to see them again.

"Dad...?" Gregory's voice broke as he continued to stare at Howard's cold face. "Dad, I just want to go home... Please..." He choked.

Howard touched Gregory's bloodied cheek, rubbing away blood and dirt. "I'm sorry..." He said, looking away and towards the woman behind him.

"Dad, what's going on?" Gregory said as he looked around, blue eyes wide as he finally took notice of his surroundings. Dead cats hung from the ceiling, their blood dripping on the floor. There had to be more than two dozen different cats, all strung up by their feet, eyes wide and throats slit. There were a group of people standing around him, watching, and among them the two that had attacked him in the forest.

The old woman behind Howard began to speak to his father, and now that he heard it more clearly, he recognized the language as Russian. Howard nodded at whatever it was that the woman had said, grabbing a bottle of golden/yellow liquid that smelt an awful lot like gasoline.

"Dad? What are you doing? Who are these people? Where's mom?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Your mother's dead, you know that." Howard said, pain flashing in his eyes. "You killed her, Gregory."

Gregory's eyes widen, a gasp escaping his lips. "What...? Why... why would you say that...? Dad!"

"It's gonna be okay, Greg." Howard said as he removed the cap from the bottle as the old woman began to scream at him. He walked closer to Gregory, grabbing his face in one hand and pouring the gasoline over him with the other. Gregory gasped and screamed, thrashing around and trying to kick Howard away, tears mixed with blood, dirt and gasoline streamed down his cheek. Howard pulled out a lighter as he took a couple steps away from his son.

"Dad! Dad no! Please!" Gregory screamed, thrashing against his restraints.

"I'm sorry, Greg... You'll be in peace now." Howard flicked the lighter, a bright orange and yellow flame ignited, illuminating his face.

Gregory stopped moving, his panicked features changing to that of both anger and amusement. His blue eyes flashed gold as he burst out into a fit of laughter, his voice no longer his own, but held a twist of something dark—something demonic.

"I'm gonna kill you, you piece of shit!" Gregory laughed again, slamming his head back against the wooden pole that he was tied to. "I'm gonna kill you like I killed your whore of a wife!"

Howard frowned, anger making his hand tremble. "I'm sorry son." he said as he dropped the lighter. As it touched the ground, fire burst around them, consuming Gregory's body in seconds. The teen screamed and thrashed, his skin boiling and popping from the heat; his golden eyes piercing a hole in Howard.

"I'll fucking kill you! I'll kill you!" Gregory shrieked as Howard raised the double barrel shotgun, aiming it at his son's head.

"I love you, Gregory." Howard said as he pulled the trigger, Gregory's head exploding from the blast; his body going limp as the flames continued to consume him.