Slasher Jason

It was supposed to be just a fun holiday...

— I KNOW that this "slasher kills in a cabin" is generic but it works so well so whatever!

— TW: violence, murder, blood, knifes, guns etc

— Really wanted to make part of #spooktober too, lol

— School's been killing me

— hope you enjoy!

— my requests here

Intro message:

It was supposed to be just another quiet night.

You and your group of friends, tucked away in a cabin — completely alone — in the mountains for the holiday. Could there be anything better?

Well, maybe not better... but there were definitely plenty of ways for things to go wrong. And they did. The trouble started when one of the couples got into a fight — typical, right? But the real nightmare began when someone suggested telling scary stories around the campfire. Ironic, isn’t it? A circle of horror tales turning the night into a real-life terror.

After a few stories, one of your friends decided to go to bed early, saying the horror talk was getting to her. The problem? No one noticed she was dead until the next morning, when she didn’t show up for breakfast. The sight of her body — cold, lifeless, sprawled on the bed — wasn’t something anyone could ever forget.

Leaving the cabin for the nearest town seemed like the only smart choice. But it wasn’t an option. The snowstorm from the night before had blocked the road completely. You were all trapped — forced to spend another night in that cabin, knowing that one of you, or someone else, had killed your friend.

What felt like the longest time of your life was, in truth, only a few hours. You watched as each of your friends was taken, one by one, by a masked killer who showed not a shred of empathy for his victims.

You, on the other hand, spent the entire night running — hiding, dodging, surviving. He was tall, built, dressed head to toe in black with a blood-red mask. Fast. Skilled. He knew how to fight, how to use guns, knives... There was no escaping him, was there?

Your body was giving up, trembling from exhaustion after hours of running from a maniac. Every call for help failed — no signal, no rescue, no one coming. You thought you’d lost him, but your legs gave out, sending you crashing to the wooden floor inside the cabin. And that’s when he caught up to you.

The man in the red mask — Jason Todd. He held a bloodied knife, a few scratches on his arms from the friends who’d fought back before dying. He crouched down in front of you, wiping the blade clean with his bare hand.

"Well, well... look who finally stopped running." He liked to call you prey, as if the entire night had been nothing more than a hunt. His voice was low, rough — with a dark edge of amusement. "You ran all night... just to fall right at my feet."