A/N: So... 2020 is a thing. That means I've been on this website for about five years now... I've seen so many things on this website, both good and bad. It just feels kind of odd. I haven't really been here long, but that doesn't change the fact that it feels like an eternity.

Well, enough with the sentimental shit. Let's get on with this.

Jason, having no frame of reference for what a port town looked like, was unsure of what to look for. He assumed that there would be a lot of people, though. Considering the fact that ports were usually places of trade and commerce. Also, there didn't seem to be another port on the continent, so surely, it would be absolutely bustling.

It was, in actuality, a ghost town. The buildings were in such bad shape that Jason thought the town was abandoned when he first saw it. From the main road, there was no sign of life. If there were any people, they'd probably have lived deeper in the city.

Jason was used to seeing deserted, ramshackle buildings. After all, Camp Crystal Lake had been closed for many years. Other than the occasional teenager, he didn't have any interaction with people. Can it really even be called interaction when you're just trying to kill them? Jason didn't think so.

Murder didn't seem to be needed here. Even if people actually lived there, they hadn't really done anything to earn his ire. Besides, pointless slaughter would only delay him.

The fact that he had no idea what he was going to do once he reached Sentora still bugged him, if only slightly. It wasn't something that popped into his head that often. And even when it did, it was quickly swept back into the depths of his mind.

If he was being completely honest with himself (he usually was), he was just itching to kill something. It was a great hunger within him, one that mighht have frightened him, once upon a time.

He chuckled internally. To think he'd been so weak at any point in his life. As a child, he'd practically been a joke. Back in Crystal Lake, he'd been an unstoppable force of nature. His power had been unmatched, and his ruthlessness unchallenged.

But that had all been ruined when he'd been brought here. This world, where people could just eviscerate him without any real effort... It was frustrating, to say the least. All of his work, gone in an instant. He'd protected his home for all of his undead life, when out of nowhere, he was ripped away from it at the last second.

He shook with silent rage as he thought of the dragon woman. She'd made him look like trash not once, but twice. The only other person to make him so enraged was Tommy Jarvis.

Jason proceeded to bury his feelings as quickly as possible. He'd almost definitely get to kill something later. Taking his anger out on bystanders wasn't something he was willing to do.

After calming himself, he walked into town. As he made his way through the filthy streets, he began to notice a couple of people out on the sidewalk. There weren't very many, but it was still proof that the town wasn't actually abandoned. That made things just a bit more difficult.

Jason had learned long ago that people liked to stare at odd things. It was just in their nature, it seemed. Jason felt somewhat uncomfortable at the idea of being near people (People he wasn't trying to kill, that is). It was kind of silly to think about. Jason Voorhess, arguably the most infamous mass-murderer to ever exist, had social anxiety. If that wasn't dumb, he didn't know what was.

Jason shook his head. He was getting unfocused, which was not acceptable.

The plan was simple. He'd find out what direction Sentora was in, and then he'd steal a rowboat. He'd considered just walking along the bottom of the ocean, as he didn't need to breathe. However, that was slower, and also came with the risk of getting turned around and lost. Really, the rowboat was a much better solution.

The plan sounded perfect, until Jason realized that he'd have to physically ask someone what direction Sentora was in.

Jason hadn't spoken in a long time. So long, in fact, that he had no idea wether or not he could speak. He sure as hell didn't remember how to.

An idea sprang into Jason's mind. Couldn't he just write down his question on a piece of paper? Yeah! He could totally do that.

Except he didn't have any paper, or writing utensils...

Jason slumped. Why was this so hard? Why did he even have to go to this stupid continent? He still didn't know why.

Just go to Sentora...

There was the voice again, just in time to really hammer in the absurdity of the whole situation.

Jason sighed silently. He guessed he'd just have to roll with it.

He scanned the crowd with his eyes, before finding an old-looking building that said "STORE" on the front. It wasn't a really creative name, but hey, they probably had paper.

Jason pushed the door open, a little bell tinkling as he did so.

The man behind the counter looked simultaneously bored and devestated, poring over documents that Jason could not make out. He didn't even look up at Jason.

Walking up to the counter, Jason squinted his eyes at the paper. Most of the words were written in really tiny letters, so he had no possible idea what they could possibly mean. He could, however, read the largely printed "FORECLOSED" at the top.

The man, probably noticing the giant man looming over him, looked up in alarm. That alarm quickly escalated into full-blown panic upon percieving Jason's features. He opened his mouth to scream, but quickly found a large, rotting hand blocking it. He looked up at Jason, cold fear in his eyes.

Jason tried to make a calming gesture with his other hand. The man seemed to understand, and relaxed a little. Still, he seemed on edge.

Jason slowly took his other hand away, trying his best to appear non-threatening.

"Wh-what do you want?" The man asked, shaking lightly.

Jason gestured at his throat, trying to convey the fact that he couldn't speak. The man looked at him for a moment, confused. Then, his eyes widened slightly in understandding.

"Oh. You can't speak. Am I right?" He asked.

Jason nodded, happy to have established that fact.

The man grabbed a pencil and some paper, before handing it to Jason.

Jason had no idea if he could still write. He hadn't done it since he was a kid, which was at least fifty years ago, maybe more. Still though, he would have to try.

It took him a moment to remember how to write, but after that, it came pretty easy. His handwriting wasn't great, but it was legible. And really, did anything else matter?

'How do I get to Sentora?'

The man sighed after reading his question.

"You can't. No one's been able to for about a year now. The storms won't anyone through." He said.

Jason shook his head, and wrote another message.

'That won't be a problem for me.'

The man sighed again, rubbing his temples.

"I could give you a map... If you help me with something." The shopkeeper said.

Jason shook his head.

"Well, then you don't get the map." The shopkeeper said.

Jason mentally weighed his options. He could just take the map. It would be easy, and it's not like anyone there could've stopped him. But... Did he really want to be that guy? This man had done nothing to him. He wasn't doing anything wrong, either. He was just an innocent man that needed help.

'What do you need?'

The man sighed.

"So, times have been tough." He began. "What little money I have goes to feeding my family. I can't pay my debts. The people up at in the city council are threatening to foreclose on my house."

Jason nodded in understanding. His mother had occasionally struggled with finances back when he was a boy, so he could sympathize with the man.

'What can I do about that?'

"Get 'em off my back. Don't kill 'em or anything, but maybe spook them a little." The shopkeeper said.

That was simple enough. Fear was an easy thing to create. He'd break some stuff, maybe rough a couple people up... Simple as that.

"Oh, and before I forget." He said, before scribbling something down on another piece of paper. "Give this to them."

Jason nodded. He waved goodbye to the shopkeeper, and stepped outside.

So, after a couple hours that the author didn't bother to write about because he's a lazy piece of shit, Jason arrived at the town hall.

He gingerly opened the door, taking care not to draw attention to himself. It wouldn't do if people were immediately aware of his presence.

The main door led into a simple, empty hallway. The hallway led to another, similar door. It was the only other door.

Jason figured that was kind of a wierd way to make a building, but what did he know? He wasn't an architect (Even if he did take great pride in his shack).

Figuring this to be the location, he walked through the door. He didn't open it. Rather, he simply acted as if it wasn't there. For all intents and purposes, it never existed.

He walked into a large, round room, with ten desks circling the middle. At each desk, sat an old man. They were staring at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" A rather rotund man shouted at him.

Jason turned to him. He would be first.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to-ACK!" The man began, before Jason wrapped a hand around his throat. Bringing him right up to the mask, he glared deeply into the man's eyes.

Haphazardly, he tossed the man away. The other old men stared silently, wide-eyed terror etched on their faces.

As the man got up, Jason roughly shoved the paper into the man's hands. He kept glaring for good measure.

The man quickly read over the note, his eyes widening.

"I-I'm sorry, but we can't-"

Jason cut him off, cracking his knuckles.

"OKAY! OKAY! JUST DON'T HURT ME!" The man pleaded, tears leaking from his eyes.

Jason silently stared him down, before turning away.

He walked through the doorway, heading back towards the shop.

*LINEBREAK*

Micaela was not in a great mood.

How could I have been so stupid?! Why did I take my eyes off him.

She'd thought he was dead. He wasn't moving or breathing, and, you know, she FUCKING STABBED HIM!

Of course, it never occured to her that he was undead. He was rotting! How did she not realize?!

Micaela had certainly never seen a male zombie, but it still should've been pretty fucking obvious. For Ilias' sake, she could see his SPINE!

Currently, she was nursing this headache the only way she could: Lethal amounts of coffee. Considering her... Unique existence, she could easily handle caffine.

What could she do now? She couldn't leave the village, and no one else there could kill him...

She'd just have to let him get away...

She sighed, holding her head in her hands.

She'd gotten cocky, and now he was out there, roaming free...

"Fuck." She growled.

A/N: This one's a bit short, but I can't extend it any more.

So, some of you might have been wondering where I've been. THhe answer, you see, is very simple:

I was deathly ill. Had a nasty case of the Flu. You know how it is. I'm better now, though.