Who's the bad guy, and who's the good guy?
At the scene, it was crystal clear.
"Drop your weapon and get down on the ground! Hands on your head—now!"
The sheriff barked his command, shotgun raised and aimed squarely at Jason.
Behind him, Officers Pappas and Rick were on high alert, fingers tight on their triggers.
If Jason resisted arrest, they were ready to turn him into Swiss cheese—guaranteed.
But Jason never backed down.
Facing the barrels of three guns, he just touched the cracked surface of his bone-white mask... and lunged forward with his harpoon.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
American cops don't mess around. The moment lives are on the line, they empty their mags first and ask questions later.
Gunfire filled the air, the smell of gunpowder biting at everyone's throats as Jason staggered backward. Bits of shattered bone fell to the ground.
Even his skull mask was peppered with bullet holes.
But he still didn't fall.
"Monster!" Officer Rick's voice shook.
"Keep firing! Don't stop! Cover the others and get them to the cars!" Sheriff Gareth yelled, reloading while backing away.
Then—a glint of silver flashed through the air.
A knife spun end over end, burying itself deep into Rick's shoulder. He screamed, his aim flying wide.
Jason seized the moment. Pulling the axe from his back, he pushed forward through the barrage of small-caliber rounds—then swung.
The axe split Rick's skull like a watermelon.
The poor cop didn't even get to scream.
Before the sheriff could finish reloading, a harpoon shot clean through his gut.
The pain was instant and unbearable. His vision twisted, the world flipped upside down—then Jason lifted him clean off the ground and slammed him into a tree.
"Rick! Gareth!" Pappas shouted, his voice breaking.
Sirens wailed again—wee-oo, wee-oo!—as Officer Pappas jumped into the cruiser, floored the gas pedal, and aimed straight at Jason.
"Die, you freak!"
The squad car slammed into Jason hard, pinning him against a massive oak.
The wheels spun, digging ruts into the dirt. Jason's flesh was shredded, bones cracking under the pressure. It looked like he was finally finished.
The engine roared, smoke and fire spilling from the hood. Pappas let out a triumphant yell, then scrambled out of the car as the front end began to burn.
Jason had to be dead. No one could survive that.
Or could they?
A chorus of gasps filled the night. Pappas turned—and froze.
Jason was moving.
He shoved the smoking cruiser aside like it weighed nothing. Flames licked across his body, but he didn't even flinch.
BOOM!
A shotgun blast thundered from behind.
The shell hit Jason square in the back, sending him slamming onto the hood.
Then—something strange happened. From the gaping wound in his back, a straw-like tendril burrowed inside, anchoring itself to his monstrous heart.
"Jason... we're not done yet."
That voice—familiar, cocky—cut through the smoke.
"It's Venom! Venom's back!"
The kids watching from a distance gasped as Barrry—the man who'd been downed earlier—sat up like nothing happened.
Even Jason, tough as he was, needed time to recover. But that was all the opening Barrry needed.
Victory was within his grasp.
Jason roared, pure rage burning in his bloodshot eyes. He was going to tear Barrry apart limb by limb.
But Barrry only smirked.
One more shotgun blast—and this time, it hit the car.
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the night, flames erupting into the sky.
The heatwave scorched the ground, forcing everyone to duck. Black smoke rolled upward as the two figures vanished into the blaze.
When the smoke finally began to clear, the stench of burnt metal and flesh hung heavy in the air.
It's over... right?
But then—something moved.
A tall, blackened figure stepped out of the fire, holding half of a broken machete.
Jason.
Still alive.
Just... a lot more charred than before.
Minutes later, the survivors stumbled to the edge of Crystal Lake, gasping for breath.
There was nowhere left to run.
After everything—they were still staring death in the face.
"Come on... somebody, save us!" one of the kids whimpered.
Maybe someone heard their prayers.
Another figure—taller, even more imposing—appeared behind Jason.
For a second, it felt like the world itself went silent, except for a strange, powerful music swelling from nowhere.
Jason froze, sensing danger. He turned—and saw it.
A figure of ash-gray stone, over nine feet tall. Its head sharp and angular, its oval eyes glowing with eerie light. The thing radiated overwhelming power.
A diamond-shaped crystal gleamed from its forehead. A round energy core pulsed in its chest.
It looked just like a live-action superhero—but darker. Way darker.
"Oh my god," someone whispered. "That's Ultraman! But... gray?"
"Why's he that color? Is he outta power?"
Then the figure spoke—without moving its lips.
"Children... I am Ultraman's twin brother—Oga Ultraman. I've come to destroy evil. But I need your help. Lend me your light—your courage."
Jason staggered to his feet, but Barrry—no, Oga—kicked him away like trash.
"Wait... are you really Ultraman?" a kid asked.
"You don't seem like a good guy," another muttered.
Barrry didn't have time to explain. His body was burning out—literally. He had to end this fast.
"To fight evil, I descended into Hell itself. The darkness changed me... but my heart is still pure."
"Don't hesitate—please. My time's almost up."
The group hesitated, unsure. Until Tom—the sharp one—stepped forward.
"I believe you! This has to be a crossover episode!"
That was all it took. The rest followed, closing their eyes, whispering their hope.
That faith—however clumsy—was enough.
Barrry didn't need actual light. He needed their courage... their belief... their guard lowered just long enough to draw on their power.
He spread his arms wide. The light on his chest glowed molten red, heat rippling through the air.
Dark flames coiled around his body, shaping into a beam.
Then—he crossed his forearms into an X.
The compressed energy exploded outward.
"Goodbye... Jason."
Boom.