9:00 P.M.

Eric still sat on the patio, pondering what he was going to do with his life. Over the hours A.J., Adam, and Deborah went to check up on him. He lied to them, telling them he was fine. He didn't want his friends to worry about him. The campers rushed passed him, spilling into the lodge. "What the hell?" he said, getting up to follow them in.

"This party is lame as fuck," Chad said. "Where the hell is everyone?"

"I-I don't know. Maybe off doing- "Deborah was interrupted by him.

"Shit! Shut up, here comes Tiffany! Act cool." Deborah saw what he was doing. He was trying to make Tiffany jealous. She wasn't going to let him use her like that. Sure, she was desperate as hell, but she wasn't desperate enough to be used by an uncaring douchebag such as Chad.

"Sorry, but you're on your own," She brushed him off. That might have been her only chance to have gotten laid, but with a douche like him? She'd rather stay a virgin her entire life.

"Pathetic," Tiffany scoffed at him. She was worried about Eric. He didn't seem to take the rejection too bad, but he was really good at faking smiles. Had she broken his heart?"

The stampede of boys entered the lodge, all of them shouting at once. All had a common word in their rambling. "Jason."

"Hey, hey! What's all this about?" Chad asked. He couldn't get them all to calm down. Tiffany heard the demon's name and immediately tensed up, Deborah doing the same.

A.J. stepped out of the bathroom, still putting on her tank top. Adam followed behind her, airing out his leather jacket. "What's all this about?" A.J. asked.

"It was him! It's- "Kyle was cut off by the sound of the back-door shattering to pieces. The door had been literally walked through. It was him. It was Jason Voorhees, equipped with The Devil's Trident in his right hand. It wasn't The Devil's Trident because it was formerly used by the Devil…No, it was The Devil's Trident because of its current owner. Jason Voorhees, the Devil. Chad immediately turned around, terror painted across his face.

Everybody screamed, scrambling out of lodge. In the heat of the moment, everyone split up. This was it, Friday the 13th was about to reach its peak.


9:10 P.M.

The storm raged on, rain was now pouring, thunder screamed as lightning flashed. Four of the boys had split apart from their 15 bunk mates, those boys being Kyle, Ethan, Jeremy and Jack. They had hidden in an unused cabin. "Oh my god…holy shit!" Kyle said, catching his breath.

"That wasn't real, was it?" Ethan choked out.

"Oh my god! Oh my god I'm injured! He'll kill me faster!" Jeremy started hyperventilating. He pointed at his bandages.

"Everyone calm down!" Jack spoke up. "We aren't gonna get anywhere if we sit in this cabin pissing ourselves! Everyone search the cabin for anything we can use to get help." And search they did! They found an old CB radio.

"Who the hell's gonna find us on that?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"It's worth a shot!" Ethan said, leaning into the microphone. "Please! Anyone, help! Jason Voorhees is real! He's killing people!"


Tommy Jarvis sat on his work bench, sculpting a sculpt for a new mask he was going to cast. He'd become a popular practical effect artist in the Crystal Lake community. As a kid, he did it as a hobby. As an adult, he did it as a way to distance himself away from reality. At the age of 11, Tommy Jarvis put a stop to Jason's murderous rampage in 1984. In 1989, he survived Roy Burns' killing spree. In 1990, he had witnessed Jason Voorhees return from the grave before sending the monster to the bottom of Crystal Lake. But Jason kept going. In 2001 he escaped his watery grave and killed once more. In 2002, there were reports of Voorhees in Manhattan. Finally, in 2003, after allegedly killing in Springwood, Ohio, the masked man went dormant. But Tommy knew he was still out there. Tommy knew he was going to come back one of these days.

His CB radio sprung to life. "Please! Anyone, help! Jason Voorhees is real!" it projected. He hadn't heard that name for so long. It was his calling. It was time to stop Jason once again. He loaded up his shotgun and bolted out of the door.

"Tommy?" his wife called for him. "What's going on?"

"Megan, stay in the house. Watch the news. If I don't get out of there alive, I love you!" And with that he started for Camp Crystal Lake, ready to confront The Devil.

"You're not gonna shoot up Walmart, are you?" Megan sarcastically said, trying to lighten up the mood, an obvious look of worry on her face.

Deborah had no idea where she was going. The rain was pouring down on her, her glasses gone in the wind. She stumbled about the woods, practically blind. Jason was going to kill her first. She knew it. She regretted spending her time reading pointless books like repair, science, math instead of survival books. Lightning flashed, accompanied by the roar of thunder. Deborah yelped, running into something large and dark. "No! NO PLEASE STOP!" She screamed. Nothing happened. Why? Because she had run into a tree.

Tiffany and A.J. had run off towards the camp. They managed to make it to the restrooms before stopping, convinced they had lost the masked man. Both of them left their phones in the lodge, leaving them no way to contacting the authorities. "Where the hell is Adam?" was the first thing A.J. said

"I-I don't know!" Tiffany stuttered. "Oh my god…Oh my god the others! He must have…He must have killed them!" She panicked.

"No, No Tiff, you have to calm down," she grabbed her shoulders and maintained eye contact. "If we want to get out of here alive, we're going to have to work together. There's a phone in Hillbrook, we need to get there and call the police." Camp Hillbrook was an unused area in Camp Crystal Lake. Carter was hopeful it would be occupied in the Summer. Currently, the only four occupied cabins were down in Spring Water.

"Okay…" Tiffany nervously said. They looted the bathrooms for anything of use before trekking down to Camp Hillbrook.


9:18 P.M.

Stephanie Kimble walked down the road, admiring the lake in the moonlight. She was going to make tomorrow's breakfast, put it in the fridge and then warm it up. She did it every day since the camp reopened to save time. Sure, it wasn't exactly the best way of preparing breakfast, but it worked. She opened the cafeteria doors, put on her gloves and her hairnet, and heated up the stove. She assumed the heat on her back was from the stove. But…wait, how was that possible? She was facing the stove. She turned around and met death's stare.

…Ki Ki Ki Ma Ma Ma Ki Ki Ma Ma Ma…

No! It couldn't be! Jason grabbed her by the neck, lifting her a few inches off of the ground. Stephanie reacted fast, slamming a pot into Jason's head. The beast dropped her, speedily recovering from her retaliation. He grabbed her by the arm as she tried to escape. In response, she slammed a kitchen knife into his other hand, pinning it to the table it was resting on. Quickly, she rushed out of the kitchen, Voorhees effortlessly removing the knife from his hand. He rose his injury to his fiery eyes and titled his head at it. He hadn't been hurt like that in years. He lowered his hand and jerked his head towards the door in one swift movement, ready to hunt.

Great, her great uncle was out to kill her. She slipped in the mud, falling face first. No, no she wasn't going to die like this. She dusted herself off before trying to sprint off, keyword; trying. Jason grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

SPLAT

Jason served her a hatchet to the face with a side of hunter's blood. He took the handle of the hatchet with his right hand and grabbed the back of her head with his left hand. Stephanie, by not much of a miracle, survived the main course. Now, she had to endure the pain of the rest of Jason's torture. He tilted her head back whilst tilting the handle into the direction of which it was planted until her neck broke. He didn't stop. Eventually, her head ripped off of her neck. Jason removed the head from the blade of his hatchet and holstered it back onto his belt. In his head, he could hear his mother telling him what good of a job he was doing. He heard someone screaming. He assumed they found Kenny's charred remains right where he had dumped them, the archery range.