You don't even hesitate, you're over the barbed wire in seconds, scratching up your hands and legs but that's the least of your problems right now. You call out his name over and over, waiting and waiting for a response.

"D?!! D!!!" your throat already hurts from screaming and screaming, leaping over logs and ducking under low-hanging branches, skirting bushes and examining clearings to no luck. Minutes passed, your throat completely shredded and tears spilling over your cheeks. ""

"Sweetheart!" you almost collapse at the sound of his voice not too far off. It's quiet, weak, almost scared.

"I'm coming!!" you scream, heading towards the source of the voice. You throw yourself through a thick set of bushes and stumble over the edge of a dip in the ground, landing with a thump on your hands and knees, coming face to face with D. He's lying on the ground in the fetal position, hands clutching tightly to his leg.

"Sweets, run, get outta here. Not long 'til Voorhees comes checking his traps." D's voice is low, pained, and you can tell he's losing blood. You hadn't noticed D's leg until he slowly tilted his head to stare at it.

A nasty, rusted, spiked bear trap had clamped shut on D's foot, coated with a thick layer of blood.

"Holy shit, D..!" you choke out, shifting to look at his leg. "No, no no no no!" your tears return and you wipe at your eyes. "We have to get this off of you! We have to get out of here, fuck!" You try to fasten your hands around the edges of the trap but the blood makes it much too slippery, impossible to grip. You attempt once, and can't even get your fingers fastened on the metal. The second time is more successful but your hands fly away as they lose contact. "Shit!!" you curse, tangling your bloodstained hands in your hair.

"GO, Hone-"

"No!" you silence D with a snap, shaking your head. "Don't be ridiculous." you return to the trap. "I don't give a shit if Jason's coming, okay? He can kill us both for all I care, you aren't dying here!" you return to the trap, prying and ripping at it with all your strength, D lying on the ground and clinging desperately onto consciousness. Despite killing so much, he had a very low tolerance for pain, it seemed.

"Just keep listening to my voice, okay? D-Did you get your picture?" you say, trying to distract yourself and him as you try and try and try to pull the trap open. D grunts as your hands slip, flicking against his open wounds. "Sorry!"

"I got it, I got the picture just before I hit this trap!" he groaned, curling tighter into himself. "I should have been more careful, damnit!"

"It's okay, it's okay, you got your picture, right? W-We'll get out of this, I p-promise!" you slip your fingers between the toothy jaws of the gruesome bear trap. "Tell me about your old life, okay? Before Jed Olsen was linked to the murders." anything to keep him busy, anything to keep your mind off the bloody scene before you.

"I- fuck, it hurts... I was a reporter like you," he had to sto between almost every word to take a deep, shaky breath. "One of the best ones in my building. Always everyone's top pick when it comes to article advice or joint works." You get a good grip on the trap, counting down from three in your head. Three, "I met a girl, even, she was great- ah, fuck...! Nice, caring, she didn't press and pester whenever I'd disappear," Two, "She was so nice, so fucking- shit, man, shit, she was the best thing that ever happened to me, almost made me turn my life around," One...! "Until she found out I was a murderer. She told the police, and I killed her, I-" PULL! D was cut off by a strained, agonizing screech of pure agony as you heaved on the jaws of the trap, feeling them lurch under your movements and pull slowly, slowly apart from one another.

You felt your muscles crying out at the strain but you didn't care, you pulled and pulled, letting out your own muted groan as at last, at long last they snapped apart and settled back into an open position.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!" he screamed over and over again, his leg held tightly against his chest as he scrambled into a sitting position, "Ah, " he grabs tightly to one of the ribbons on his jacket, pulling a blade from his leg holster and slicing it off, tying it around his leg as a makeshift tourniquet.

"Are you okay?!" you lean in, shaking almost as badly as D. You need a hug, something comforting, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, careful not to touch his leg. "Fuck, god fucking damnit." you hiss out, and one of his arms wrap around you, patting gently at your hair.

"It's okay, it's okay, you got me out, but we have to go before-" the sharp snapping of a twig forces you to separate, you leaping to your feet and turning in a quick circle. "Fuck, (Y/N), run! He's here, it's too-" before he can finish, a lumbering tank of a man steps from the bushes, a hockey mask strapped to his face and a grueling machete in his massive hands.

You don't say a word, you don't move a muscle. Everything is still and quiet save for the heavy breathing and occasional hiss of despair from D. You slowly raise your stiff arms into a sign of surrender, eyes glued to the dark orbs of the man behind the mask.

"W-We don't want any trouble, we just dropped something on this side of the fence, the wind b-blew it away!" you explain, taking a slow step backwards and closer to D. In response, the obvious form of Jason Voorhees took a step closer, descending into the clearing. "We didn't mean to disturb you, he just slipped into this trap but I've already gotten him out, we can leave right now."

"J-Just a picture of her. One I couldn't let go." D said through gritted teeth, slowly holding out the picture with shaking hands. You took it from him and held it out to Jason, your hands shaking as well. The masked man takes the picture from you with the hand not holding the machete, examining it. "She looked too pretty with the forest lighting, and I was saying goodbye to my home there, this is an important photo to me. It's got the forest, my home for a long long time." D was doing a surprisingly good job at keeping his voice steady despite the pain laced within it. "Time to break out some of that game-changing charisma, huh Sweetheart?" D chuckled, clearly as terrified as you, completely at this man's mercy. There was no overpowering Jason here, like D had with Michael. You were 100% vulnerable, your fate chosen by this forest dwelling machete man.

The photo was extended back towards you, and you took it back, staring down at the thing. You really were... angelic in this photo. You gave it back to D, who clutched it tightly to his chest. Your hands returned to their submissive position.

"We can leave right here, right now without a problem." your eyes burn into his and his into yours, head unmoving as he seemingly sized you up. You were about to speak again when Jason tensed, head snapping upwards to look over your head. In a flash, he was sprinting towards you- no, directly passed you, disappearing into the bushes and stomping away. The scent of smoke touched your nose and you knew what was happening. "Shit, there's a fire somewhere?!" you turn to D, holding out a hand and helping him to his feet. You sling his arm over your shoulder, supporting half of his weight.

"We have to go, (Y/N)." D hissed, his breathing ragged and uneasy; he wasn't strong enough to be out here longer.

"I-I know, but..." you could see the orange glow in the distance. "Shit, I know. We have to at least get you to the car." You begin to half-carry D to the car, along the path from before. 20 minutes instead of 10 later and you're there, the scent of smoke overwhelming now, the black gas escaping into the sky. You could hear the far-off crackling of vicious fire. "Get in, I have to go help or something." you open the passenger door and set D down, but as you try to run back into the forest his leather hand fastens around your wrist.

"(Y/N), be careful. Don't be stupid, okay? I'll be here." he loosens his grip, giving you the choice to give up and stay or leave and help with the fire.

"Ok, D. I'll be back, I promise." you pull your arm from his grass and set off back into the forest, retracing your steps back to the bear trap, then rushing off in the direction Jason had run, following the now-trampled pathway leading a generally clear path after him. You settle into a jog, wanting to conserve your energy to cover more distance long term. The temperatures rise and the crackling grows louder, and soon you can see the fire in the distance. You hear the frantic shouting of people, terrified screams cut off abruptly. Jason was eliminating the idiots who started the fire that was no ravaging his home to no avail. All you knew was that you had to find Jason, you felt a strong pull to help him, shelter him like you had Michael and D. It was like a job to you now, you had to save these broken souls and nurture them into real human beings, help them in ways their murder sprees could not.

You skirted the fire left and right, keeping close to the trampled pathway so you didn't lose your way back. The screams dwindled then silenced, and you guessed everyone had been dealt with but the fire still raged on. You continued to scan your surroundings for any sign of Jason, getting closer and closer to the wall of flames with each scan until the crackling frenzy had made your skin rosy and caked with sweat. You finished walking to the left, spinning on your heel and walking three minutes to the right, then turning again. It was no use calling out for Jason, you couldn't hear anything over the crackle of the flames; you couldn't hear the approaching footsteps of a frantic male crashing through the bushes directly into your path and colliding into you. With a scream from the both of you you scrambled apart, the boy realizing you were another human being and scrambling back towards you. A hand was placed on either one of your shoulders, the boy's eyes completely terrified.

"There's a crazy dude, some bitch trying to skewer me, you have to help me!" his voice was shaky and hoarse and he was covered in cuts and bruises. "He's got a big machete and he- he killed my sister and-" he was cut off as a machete sliced straight through his skull. You push him away and stumble backwards before too much blood can spatter your face and you stare up at Jason as he rips his blade from it's previous home.

You can't show fear, you have to show initiative, that he doesn't scare you. Your instincts screamed at you to run, to sprint as fast as you fucking can but you dig your heels into the ground and lift your gaze to meet his. He tilts his head, a common thing for these murderous killers.

"J-Jason, that's your name... right?" you almost have to shout over the fire, which was moving steadily closer. "The fire's coming, your home is gone. I'm sorry." at your words, Jason's head lowers momentarily before righting itself once more and gluing to your quivering form. "You can stay with me. That guy back there does, and he's a killer. I want to keep people like you safe." you extend a shaking hand, noting how absolutely surreal all of this feels. Jason's hand moves slightly, then drops back to his side. "Please, Jason, you'll get hurt out here if we don't go now!" you hold your hand out further, straighter, but it still shakes just as much. Your eyes are wide and pleading, and though Jason is absolutely confused, he raíces his hand slowly and fastens it in your. The moment he does you're running, dragging him behind you. He could easily speed ahead but he sticks at your side, following you, who is following his previous trail. You don't stop sprinting as the wind picks up, the fire now racing along behind you and shoving you further and further from the smoldering forest.

You arrive at D's shack, turning to the bushes and pushing your way through. Your lungs are burning from the mixture of smoke and lack of oxygen, forcing you to wheeze as you ran, though Jason seemed absolutely fine. You gasped as your car came into view, D leaned against the passenger door standing on his one good leg. His tense shoulders sagged with relief as you burst from the treeline and ripped the back door open for Jason to cram himself inside. The fire had moved almost as quickly as you, rapidly devouring the grass and on it's way to engulf your car. Your door was barely closed as you slammed on the gas, speeding away from the smoke and heat and burning sounds. You stared out the rearview mirror as you sped away, the fire raging high and mighty as sirens began to wail in the distance. Jason was sitting with his head pressed against the side window, trying to glimpse his home as you tore away from the hell on earth.

"Thank fucking god I went and grabbed my stuff in time." D huffed, hands hugging himself tightly. He was thoroughly covered in blood, blood all over the car as well from his still-oozing leg.

The ride home was silent but you didn't dare stop in case Jason snapped or got angry, or in case D passed out from loss of blood. You had very basic first aid skills after so many years of patching up your own wounds but you weren't necessarily confident that you could really save D.

"Looks like we did jinx ourselves," was all you said as you headed on home. It wasn't until you had parked your car that anyone spoke again.

"Well, Voorhees... welcome to your new home." D pushed open his car door, waiting as you did the same and came to help him form his seat, keeping his leg off the ground. Jason exited the car as well, stunned by the sight of the huge house. He'd only ever seen cabins and such.

"I'm sorry to have ripped you away from your home so quickly." you apologize to the tank, and he simply nods. "Come on, D, let's get you patched up." you hobble inside, Jason close behind. "Michael?" you call out, Jason shutting the door behind you. Seconds after your call Michael is descending the stairs, stopping abruptly at the sight of you all. His eyes scanned you, covered in blood, D, doubled over in pain with a leg that was bleeding profusely, and Jason, a new face he did not trust. His knife was out in instants and he took long strides towards you. You held out a hand to stop him, "Michael, it's okay-" he pushed right past you, pushing you away by the shoulder then standing directly in front of Jason, nose to nose, both unmoving.

Michael was taller but Jason had more visible muscle. The two just stared. You didn't have time for this.

"Micahel, be nice to Jason, he's staying with us now like you and D are." you say simply, "Come help me with D, please." your second sentence is quieter, as if you're afraid to ask, which you were. You didn't expect him to actually help, but he re-sheathed his knife, and with one last glare at Jason he turned to you and hooked his arms under D's shoulders, lifting him with such ease.

"Fuck, careful Mikey!" D groaned as the Boogeyman roughly carried D to the kitchen, setting him on the dining room table with no care at all. Jason stayed by the door, tense as a board and scared to move, Michael shooting him glares every two seconds.

"Jesus christ this is..." you were feeling a little lightheaded from a mixture of tiredness, overstimulation, emotional scarring and the sight of blood. D cradled his head in his heads as you tried to roll up the leg of his pants, doing your best to keep pressure off the wounds from the bear trap, wincing every time your fingers skimmed his shredded skin.

The entire time D hissed and whimpered, nothing like his usual confident self. He was scared, genuinely scared for himself and what could have happened if it weren't for you and your quick tongue. After a good ten minutes his leg was exposed, but now you had no idea what to do. He clearly needed stitches but you couldn't go to the hospital. You placed your hands on your face momentarily, taking a shaky breath and trying to hold back tears.

"I-I have to s-stitch this up or s-something... I..." you shake your head, then take a deep, controlling breath. You reach for the medicine-kit Michael had retrieved for you from under the sink, unzipping the thing and rifling through for the emergency needle and thread. You were still shaking. You couldn't do this. Like a guardian demon Michael was at your side, ripping the stitching supplies from your hands and threading the needle with surprising ease.

"Woah woah woah there, grandma! I don't trust you with that sewing-" D was cut off by the loudest hiss he'd let out yet, followed by his fist pounding repeatedly on the table as he let out a sickening laugh to mask his excruciating pain. "That's... that's something alright! Hoo, boy that's... shit." he gripped the fabric of his cloak, shaking whenever the needle maneuvered through his skin.

Michael was much more practiced than you were, doing every action with a skill you never would have imagined him to have. Through a river of hisses and cursing from D, Michael worked in silence and you hadn't even noticed the equally silent approach of Jason now observing from the doorway to the dining room. He wasn't looking at you, but at Michael with intense curiosity and a hint of fear. Michael was obviously the biggest threat to him; D was wounded, and much much smaller, and you were... well, you, thin and short and shaking like a leaf. Michael let out a grunt, pulling away form D's leg and signifying the task was done. There, in front of you was a poor stitching job, just good enough to be considered functional. D was breathing heavily, face cradled in his hands and his mask on his head, shaking. His leg was still caked in blood and sweat and dirt, so you grabbed a dishrag and ran it under the tap water, returning to your injured friend and cleaning it as gently as you could. D began to hiss again, the skin so, so tender, spears of pain shooting up and down it with each small touch.

"Much more gentle than the iron giant over here." he said through gritted teeth, face still covered by his hands.

"That should do it. At least, that's all I can do for now." you say, dropping the rag on the ground. You were emotionally and physically exhausted; you'd seen the gorgeous yet terrifying former home of the infamous Ghostface, you'd pried a bear trap from his bleeding leg, encountered the deadly Jason and his gruesome machete, basically carried a dying man back to your car, then returned to the scene of a raging fire to save yet another serial killer, just because you felt the moral obligation to do so. "I need to sleep... jesus, I need to sleep." you sigh, shaking your head as you were already feeling the urge to collapse right then and there. "D, show Jason his room and have everyone get some cereal or something, please. I'll see you all tomorrow." you didn't listen as D called you back, claiming you needed to eat.