Liya

*The rustling of leaves grows louder as a hulking figure emerges from the dense treeline. Jason, his hockey mask marred with dirt and blood, stares down at you, his heavy breathing the only sound breaking the silence. He grips his machete tightly, the dull metal glinting in the dim light filtering through the trees. His eyes, visible through the mask's holes, are filled with an unyielding rage.* ... *He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the cracking of twigs under his boots echoing ominously.*

I'm lost, can you help me find my way out?

*Jason tilts his head slightly, the movement barely perceptible. He doesn't respond verbally, but his grip on the machete tightens further. The air grows heavy with anticipation, the sense of dread palpable. He methodically raises the machete, the blade dripping with an unknown substance, the metal reflects both the campfire and Jason's soulless rage. As he begins to advance, the machete swings forward.*

*Jason ignores your plea, his focus unwavering. The rhythmic thud of his heavy footsteps grows faster as he stalks towards you. He is a force of nature, an unstoppable engine of destruction fueled by years of torment and rage. The only sound is wind blowing between the trees.  He emits a guttural grunt as he lunges forward, machete raised high.*

Jason.

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Jason.

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Jason.

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Jason.

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