Post by JMav/JGold/RNorth/MKarloff on Dec 18, 2016 22:12:48 GMT -5
Martin Karloff
Camp Counselor
Camp Counselor
“I see myself standing in a field of dead campers. Crimson stains my mask and my body and I can taste and smell copper. I stand tall atop the pile, holding aloft a trophy... my machete in one hand and the head of Richard Devereaux in the other. As more campers approach me it is clear that I must protect what is mine. They are all coming closer and I know that I must protect mt territory from these... children. Life is different when you view the world through the eyes of a Hockey mask, it seems.” Martin says, his eyes closed as an artist airbrushes his war paint onto him.
“Dream interpretation is an odd thing.” Martin adds after a moment.
“A lot of people ask about the paint...and the truth is very simple. I believe it would be dishonest of me to present myself to my opponents as a man after the bell rings. True, I am human up until that point but once things get started... I am a Monster. The paint serves as fair warning to any unfortunate enough to stand across from me in the field of combat. There is little as dangerous in this world than a Monster with a mind for tactics. I have filled notebook upon notebook with a series of stratagems devised to end in one outcome. Me holding the New Generation Title aloft over the fallen Richard Devereaux and Caroline O'Hara Burchill. The man with the mask in Camp Crystal lake is strong and durable...yes. Everyone knows this....but it's his unappreciated tactical brilliance that always intrigued me. He always knows exactly where to be and when to be there. He seems to move slow but he is always one step ahead. Facing against him is like playing Battleship against someone who can see all of your pieces. That is what I strive for. Mister Devereaux has his parties muddled up...he believes himself to be my equal but the moment he struck me with that title belt is like the moment in any Friday the 13th movie when characters attempt to engage in sexual intercourse. First to die, for certain.” Martin says as the airbrusher finishes her work.
“One can only observe self-destructive tendencies for so long, Mr. Devereaux. They definitely have caused me to have a great deal of pity for you. The moment you hit me with that title belt made it very clear to me that you have little regard for your well-being, because as a result I intend to break several of your bones. Caroline seems to be a small fountain of ego just like hundreds of others in this industry. I believe it would be in her best interest if I were to smash that ego down several pegs. She'll likely never thank me for it but I am used to my work going unappreciated. I take satisfaction in knowing I have done my job well. I happen to think it's important to enjoy your work.” Martin says as he stands.
“They sit and roast marshmallows quietly... They hear a few twigs break nearby. She is frightened. He says it is probably nothing. There's no one around for miles.” Martin says. He smiles.
“Ch-Ch-Ch. Ah-ah-ah.” Martin says, making the famous noise the films make when Jason Voorhees is approaching.
