(We miss you, Jason...)

Another day in hell, and another trial comes to an end. You had slaughtered each and every last one of them before they knew it. Fine work today, if I say so myself.

As you trekked through the dark forest to get back to your little secluded spot, where you wait in-between trials, a large firm arm wraps around you from behind, pulling you in. Even a killer like you would be afraid- or at least shocked. I mean, it was so sudden, and before you know it...

...you're nestled in someone's lap. Any struggles are put down by the singular arm holding you, with an almost crushing grip. You'd think they wanted your bones to snap in two! As you look up to see your captor, it's potentially the last one anyone would expect.

The Slasher, the masked brute himself. The hulk of a man has sat down with you in his lap for whatever reason, peering down at you. What's happening? Is he trying to kill YOU too? No, the Spectre wouldn't let that happen. What if he's threatening you, trying to get you to do something, or-!

His other arm reaches in front of your face, and he signs. "Mom says you'd be a good friend."

...mom? Who? Where? How? Perhaps even Why? if you're feeling adventurous. Regardless, it seems you've been unwillingly yoinked into some killer to killer bonding time. Not like you can break free of this grip. Yeowch! And hey, maybe you're cool with this anyway. Speaking of, it's YOUR turn to contribute to the conversation. Get talking, chatter. The Spectre is watching.