Disclaimer: These characters own me.

Friday the 13th:Jason Takes Bayville

Victor lunged at the living legend with a mighty roar, claws out, and tore into his chest, but he was thrown back into the wall. Magneto mentally cursed his decorating choices; these reinforced steel walls would be the death of them.

'My my; aren't we precious.'

Not being able to think of much else to do, Colossus rushed the behemoth on his own as Pyro circled around unnoticed. He grappled with Voorhees, hand to hand; back in Russia he'd been a boxer of sorts, but even with his mutant strength he was no match for Jason. In a move taken straight from Beowulf, the ever living killer ripped Piotr's arm from its socket, shoulder, armor and all as Pyro watched in horror.

"PETE!!"

The screams of the Russian echoed throughout the halls, silenced only when Jason began to beat him with his own arm…

This…this wasn't happening. It couldn't be real! Finally admitting defeat, Magneto floated silently out towards the back entrance.

Blood sprayed from Piotr's body and severed arm as Jason continued to pummel him.

Pyro was crying now; how could this possibly happen? Piotr…Oh, God, Piotr! Enraged at the loss of such a dear comrade, the awesome Aussie pulled the triggers on his flamethrowers, his tears turning to maniacal laughter. Jason flinched, covering his face.

"Whot's a matter, freakshow?!" he cried out. "Too hot for ya?!"

'Now that wasn't a very nice thing to say!' his mother said and Jason agreed.

Slowly, St. John's maniacal laughter died down and stopped as he realized that he wasn't hurting the behemoth in the least. His mouth twitched with the ghost of a nervous smile at the sight before him.

Lumbering towards him was Jason, in flames from the waist up. He pulled his machete from its sheath and, finally coming to his senses, St. John started backing away. Jason only had to make one quick slice; the blood sprayed from Pyro's body with such force that one would think it had been tossed in buckets, and the flames on Jason were put out.

St. John, in his final moments, uttered a single word:

"Croikey"

The pyromaniac's face from above the left eye, down to his right shoulder blade, slid off of his body as his remains fell to the floor.

'You've done well, Dear, but don't forget the other.'

His work obviously done here, Jason advanced on Sabertooth, stepping on the top half of St. John's lung as he went.

The feral mutant stirred, moaning as he took a defensive stance. The smell of blood overloaded his enhanced senses and he was taken aback; true, they had never been especially close but it was still a bit of a shock. This guy meant business.

As Jason's gaze fell on the taller blonde his mother's voice advised him. 'Be careful, honey; he's like that other fellow,' and he knew exactly who she was talking about. The little man with the big claws. Oh, yes; this was going to be one hell of a fight.

Sabertooth lunged at him again, roaring in anger as he clawed into Jason's chest once more. Jason pushed the feral mutant back, slashing at his neck and kicking him in his gut. Sabertooth roared again, this time in pain, and Jason silenced him for good with a final slash at his throat, effectively decapitating the feline feral mutant.

'Well,' his mother said, 'that was disappointing.'

Jason nodded in agreement, surveying the damage he had inflicted on the Acolyte base; the psychic, the tinman, the cowardly lion, the flamer…wait! What about the old man in the stupid helmet?

'Don't worry about it , honey,' his mother assured him; 'You'll get your chance. But first, we need to figure out where we are and how we can get home.'

He nodded; how lucky Jason was to have his Mommy.

As part of his mother's plan, Jason left the base, roaming through the forest towards any loud noises he heard. Eventually, she told him, this would lead them to a city, and from there they could figure out how to get back to camp. It was nearly midnight when they reached the edge of a suburb called Bayville, and there was one hell of a sight to see.

Outside of the local Dairy Queen were what seemed to be a couple of varsity football players, harrassing some girls that obviously wanted nothing to do with them.

'Oh, now that's not very nice; Sweetie, why don't you tell them to leave those nice girls alone?'

He nodded and moved out from the shelter of the forest, into the parking lot and towards the group. The teen boys looked at him as the girls scurried off. Scowling at the sight, the first pushed him.

"Jackass, what do you think you're doin'?" he said and shoved Jason again. "We were totally gonna score with those chicks!"

"Yeah!" the other agreed. "And what's with that mask anyways? Dontcha know Holloween ain't for a month yet?"

Jason grinned behind his mask, knowing what lay ahead. Inside, he could feel his mother glaring at the boys; she didn't like disrespectful kids.

'Make big swings, dear.'

A/N: BODY COUNT: FOUR(4): #2 Piotr Ilyich Rasputin, bludgeoned; #3 St. John Steven Allerdyce, dismembered; #4 Victor Marion Creed, decapitated. REST IN PIECES. Boy, do I love giving these characters embarrassing middle names… DUDES! I know, I'm sorry! This got deleted and I had to rewrite, so sorry fo the shortness. Also, if this story starts to get you down, I am currently collaborating on a humor fic in the Xiaolin Showdown fandom with my best friend Shimoariku. Feel free to check it out! There are little trivia challenges for those who dare to review.