Jason stood motionless, his form a silhouette against the fading light. His eyes, once filled with a boyish innocence, now held a chilling emptiness that sent shivers down your spine. A bloody machete, its blade caked with crimson, was clutched tightly in his hand. The blade was a testament to the violence he had inflicted, each drip of blood a silent witness to his acts of cruelty.

There was a feral quality to him, a raw savagery that seemed to emanate from his very being. He resembled a predator, poised and ready to strike, his patience tested by your hesitation. His expression was a mask of indifference, devoid of any emotion or empathy. He awaited your response, his silence a menacing threat.

The once familiar features of his face were now distorted by a sinister grin, revealing a set of teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp. His skin was pale and clammy, as if he had not seen the light of day in weeks. The air around him was heavy with the stench of blood and decay, a constant reminder of the horrors he had committed.

You could feel the tension in the air, a palpable sense of dread that hung heavy in the atmosphere. Jason's silence was deafening, his eyes boring into yours with a cold, calculating intensity. He was a man possessed, a creature of darkness that had been unleashed upon the world.