A/N: Good evening folks, and Happy Spooky Season!

Well, this one's gonna be quite different than my usual fare. But for Halloween, or at least autumn(which is basically all Halloween from September to October as far as I'm concerned), I decided to go more horror instead of smut or pleasant slice of life(though I am known to have some bloody grindhouse-inspired combat, heh.) The Duo Lon backstory stuff aside, that is(which tends to float a little toward horror.)

This was one of those things that was inspired by a simple picture, which you can see in the thumbnail.

In KOF '99, there is a wide array of unused sprites for all characters, and this, believe it or not, was one of Jhun Hoon's. He looked absolutely unhinged; far more resembling someone like Freeman than the lovable justice-seeking Tae Kwon Do master and music fan. So of course, being a big horror fan growing up, my brain started spinning a dark little 'what if' tale, since it's that time of year, and I wondered what *they* were thinking when they came up with this look for him. (If anything.)

So I thought, what if Jhun Hoon had been at one point perhaps snatched by NESTS or something(who like to do testing), messed with, turning him unhinged with perhaps a little extra physical power behind him(much like one might find someone like Jason or Michael Meyers), and then escaped, heading toward South Town a much, much different person than he was? Basically 'Jhun Voorhees', hair hanging in his face, a different style of outfit-inexorable, powerful, and extremely bloodthirsty, whose sense of justice had been twisted into a shadow of itself. Like, what would happen if a man who devoted himself to justice had it twisted even well beyond even a vigilante, and straight into the mindset of someone that might reach the level of a horror movie killer?

There WILL be little nods and shout-outs to favorite horror pieces of mine; be it games, movies, books, or whatnot. If you catch 'em, good for you. ;D This is 100% Alt-Timeline stuff; none of this works into the Writerperson-verse, so to speak, in any way, it's purely a stand-alone tale of mayhem. This DOES also play on heavier use of original characters, though they're relatively minor(detectives, morticians, hapless victims and the like), though I do plan on making some cameos of South Towners, too. It's more of a...Slasher/Splatter fic involving a KOF character, than a KOF fic. It's probably not gonna be for everyone, but I hope those who choose to stay, who like the world and slasher fics, stick around.

NEEDLESS to say, this fic is heavy on the violence and gore, so if you're squeamish, don't enter.

Thus begins the heavily classic splatter/slasher film inspired tale of the TKD Killer of South Town...

-Underground NESTS lab, unknown-

The head scientist ran a hand through his slightly frazzled, salt-and-pepper hair and sighed deeply. In his mid forties, it was graying a little faster than one might have wanted, but his job tended to be a rather high-stress deal.

Especially when situations like this occurred. Only this time, it was truly one for the books; far worse than the time the grumpy bastard with the glove fried a couple people-he was no longer around the labs, though. There was the time his clone-the one fellow with the weird coat and the eye scars-unloaded on one single scientist in a flurry of blows when he had been getting drugged up and caused the room to be somewhat of a mess afterward, but that was only a single victim.

This was far, far worse.

This particular subject had been kidnapped perhaps two months ago-he would have to check the logs to see the exact day. He had been scoped as a good potential warrior; NESTS did not only clone people, but would kidnap and augment them, as well. A fine specimen of a fighter and in excellent condition, he took to the first augments rather well physically, though definitely chafed against them mentally. As such, he was kept highly sedated when being moved about, and under heavy guard. They had tranquilized him when they kidnapped him, so that had been smooth.

But now...

The office was dim, as the bright lights were giving the man a bigger headache than he already had. Around four in the morning, it was way, way too early for this amount of bullshit. He had stepped out back to chain-smoke several cigarettes in the chilly, rainy weather after the news had gotten to him about this morning's little incident, having drunk down half a pot of already stiffening coffee. Turns out all the stimulants didn't help his foul mood, so he opted to pop one of his sedatives in the end. Probably not that good for a man his age with his level of stress, but he didn't particularly care at the moment.

Having felt the sedatives now hitting to the point where he did not feel the urge to gun down the two blood-soaked, utterly traumatized looking idiots sitting at the desk, he turned around, his hands pressed together in front of him as his fingers tapped together incessantly.

"So. Now that I'm calm and I no longer want to fire you both into space, can you please tell me the events in the order in which they happened?"

After a few more moments of silence, the slightly less traumatized looking scientist coughed and started to speak. The other one slowly lifted a cigarette to his mouth; their boss did offer a lighter. He would have to speak eventually, and if this helped him explain what happened, then so be it.

"After the training session, we made sure we had everything. Sedatives, restraints, guards. We all had our tasers, as well." The scientists knew that killing valuable subjects was only done as a last ditch effort to stop them. "We didn't forget anything, I can assure you."

"Well, clearly something went wrong," he said, flicking what seemed to be a piece of brain matter off of the man's shoulder. "When you were finished with Subject J's observations, what did you do?"

"Well, Reynolds…"

The head scientist blinked. "Reynolds?"

"Y...Yes, why do yo-"

"The guy who's been working here a month? Or... was working here for a month, before you started wearing him? " the man flicked another piece of... something off the man, insinuating that Reynolds met a rather grisly end.

"I...we are told that they need to go through hands-on training! That's the only way they can actually learn to administer everything properly."

"Yes, yes. Of course, they need to go through hands-on training. Not with a Class Z subject, though! Who okayed this?!" the graying scientist asked, nonplussed.

"Douglas."

"And where is he?"

At this, the other man started shivering uncontrollably; the irritated supervisor was able to surmise from this that Douglas was somewhere getting scraped off the floors and could not, unfortunately, meet the supervisor's wrath for okaying such stupidity. Anyone should have known that at best, newer recruits were only to be allowed to deal with, at worst, class 4 to 5 subjects, and the latter only heavily supervised. Anything worse- especially a class Z subject, who tended to have a combination of deadly augments and not enough control, yet-were to only be handled by experienced hands. Whatever had gotten into Douglas' head-before it ended up all over the hallway, that was-the supervisor would never know. They would likely have a lot of footage to go over.

After a few moments of silence-the other man smoking his cigarette quickly, as if it were his last-he coughed and continued. "He administered the sedative. Placed the restraints on. As they walked him down the hall-"

"Walked? He should have been sedated enough to have to be rolled. And you do recall restraining Subject J's hands is basically useless, no?"

The other man shivered again; clearly, he was going to be no help. Sighing-wondering if he was going to need another sedative-the supervisor tried to voice his next lines evenly.

"He wasn't properly chipped yet. He could probably rip out whatever is in him. He can't be tracked at the moment. You do realize how hard he is going to be to find, right?" He supposed they could follow a trail of corpses, but corpses tended to not be a rarity in South Town, anyway. There was, in fact, a serial killer that would drop in that would make messes of his opponents. They had considered capturing that one once, but had decided against it. Truth be told, he already knew what his superiors would say about Subject J. He suspected they would do a cursory sweep and let the man go if nothing turned up. Possibly even paying off authorities as to make sure they don't poke around where they shouldn't.

While the organization liked to safeguard its secrets and test subjects, Subject J was not given anything particularly...strange, except for enhanced physical attributes, which to be frank, were a dime a dozen. And since they didn't much care about the populace, if he caused a death toll, he caused a death toll. He hadn't been there long enough for them to devote millions to. The asshole with the glove, they definitely wanted back. Subject J was considered Class Z at the moment, but if he had been properly brainwashed and chipped, he'd have been considered more of a shock trooper. It wasn't like he was immune to being killed, he was just highly resilient.

He reckoned Subject J may never be found.

Continuing to stare at the pair, he folded his arms. The slightly less shaken man looked down, scratching his head. The supervisor continued:

"How many were killed?"

"Ten, I think. We...couldn't count."

His blood pressure rose slightly when he considered how long it could take to identify everyone, the saving grace being they had at least wore name tags. The subject apparently aimed often for the head when he could.

"Well, right now, Subject J is gone, probably heading to the closest major city...South Town, I suppose that is? He probably has faint memories of what happened, he's been augmented with the strength of several men, and he probably thinks human beings are toys at the moment. So keep that in mind the next time you guys decide to allow a new guy to be in charge of a Class Z Subject. Go clean up, take some sedatives, and report back tomorrow to see how we shall attempt to fix this little snafu."

The men scrambled off quickly; no doubt, they wanted to wash the remnants of their ex co-workers off of them sooner than later. For now, the supervisor rubbed his temples, sitting at his desk, staring at the paperwork which he would be filling out for most of the day.

Checking outside, the autumn-colored trees beat against his window; he did have an office with a window. At this point, his hands were tied; he was not the most moral of men, given his line of work, but he felt a slight twinge of guilt at just what may have been unleashed out there.

The man made his way down the long road. He wore only a loose pair of scrubs that they had given him in the labs, with his top long gone and his long hair whipping about his head. Squinting in the moonlight, he recognized the area faintly; while his memories right now were muddled-he could barely remember his name, as they called him Subject J, and he supposed it began with said letter-he sort of remembered this as heading into the city...South Town, which he did recall.

Somehow, he was not as cold as someone should be wearing as little as he was at this moment.

It had all happened very quickly. He was coming out of a training exercise, where they were testing his abilities, which they strengthened with incredibly painful injections, injections that felt like they were burning him from the inside as they strengthened him. He knew he hated being there. He had a life, once. He was…

What?

What was he?

Shaking his head as he stood there, he continued on, trying to remember what his purpose was. He remembered punishing people. Administering justice.

He certainly punished the scientists when they failed to properly tranquilize him. They had bound his hands...but it was useless, as he did all of his work with his legs.

Having collapsed in the woods after running for what had seemed to be for hours, he had managed to avoid initial capture, but wondered if they were coming after him again.

All he could feel at this moment was some sort of weird anger and confusion.

Walking more...he eventually reached an overpass with a sign, pointing toward South Town-thirty miles away.

He heard noises coming from there.

Wandering up, he decided to check...

A/N: I am completely asspulling stuff like "Class Z" and everything, I mean, we don't know all of the super-deep goings on at NESTS, so I sorta just ran with some obligatory Evil Science Talk. So don't try to take that as NESTS canon(since I was never able to find classification names, even digging through source material.) It's complete fake science-talk.

Alas, they may have just accidentally unleashed South Town's Jason...time will tell, I guess?

Going forward, I'm going to be leaving author's notes to a minimum for this one, I think, to better capture a horror movie feel. I may include some for locales and the like, but in general, this one's going lighter on them.