06-14-2018, 10:43 AM
Relentless sunshine beat down on the alabaster stage of this first, feral round. Indeed, the ideas of 'relentless' and 'beat down' seemed to be the general topic of the day as the better part of a hundred bullets slapped into the thick meat of Jason's flesh. This did not, as per usual, deter the colossus from his objective. Though he may have stumbled there, flinched here, it eventually dawned on the Handsome one that his fusillade of automatic fire was not having the desired effect on his opponent.
"Uh...your move twinkletoes." Jack said nervously as he and his facsimile slapped new magazines into their weapons. Regan, who was still without a specific weapon, blinked slowly as he watched the masked murderer advance on his...battle partner. Ally was probably too strong of a word at this point. He sighed.
Yes, I suppose we should do something, after all.
The orange coated trickster slipped seamlessly into his stealthy countenance, stalking towards the trundling Jason with all the poise and grace of a tabby cat. Sucking in a sharp breath, he shifted all of his weight onto his left foot, and swept his right leg at Vorhees' right foot as it stepped forward. The sensation was a bit like driving his shin into the trunk of an alder tree. The recalcitrant swordsman cried out in pain, reflexively gripping at his shin as Jason wheeled around and stared down at him with black, shark-like eyes.
"Uh."
Perhaps it had always been a ruse, the way Jason stomped slowly around this miniscule arena. Or, perhaps he could be spurred into great speed when presented with an easy kill. Either way, the sheer quickness of the giant's movement caught Regan off guard as he lunged down and gripped the sly magician by the throat. Dextrous hands clutched and clawed at the moldering jacket sleeve as Vorhees lifted Dane high into the air, his blood-spattered machete hanging loosely in his left hand. Ragged breathing came from behind the mask...a glint of excitement in otherwise hollow eyes.
"Shotgun?" asked Jack's digital brother.
"Shotgun!" the Prime counterpart said with a note of sadistic glee. Hot damn if this bare-chested ren faire wannabe wasn't making him look good! A pair of garishly yellow Hyperion weapons faded into existence in dual showers of cyan glitter. The Jacks took a step forward and took aim at Jason's upper and lower body, respectively. The following reports rang out harshly through the quaint little arena, and flayed open the marauder's back in a spray of burgundy gore. Dane felt the iron grip on his throat loosen slightly as a long wheeze escaped Jason's stricken throat. The giant began to teeter backwards, and Regan prepared to leap away from the stunned monster the second he hit hard pavement.
What happened instead was Jason and Dane disappearing through the white-tile floor in a splash of cool, mountain water. It took a moment for Jack to process what he had just seen, as the column of cascading fluid disappeared just as quickly as it had come. The surface of the arena rippled for a moment, but as Jack dashed forward and tested it with a probing boot, it was rock solid once more.
"Fabio! Uh...Dane?" Jack called, looking around in dawning panic.
Meanwhile, Regan and Jason tumbled and struggled in watery darkness. To say that he was disoriented would be a gross understatement on the mage's part. He felt those beartrap hands wrapping around his legs, dragging him down to untold depths of pain. His own muffled cries of anguish and the chilling carress of his own bubbly breath informed the perceptive victim that he was currently upside down. Ears burning from pressure, Dane reached out with his extrasensory faculties, trying not to let the cloying breath of fear cloud his mind.
It appeared as though this maniac mauler had manifested some sort of arbitrary tank beneath their previous stage. He could feel the thin ceiling of tiles behind his back, though it was rapidly drifting away as Vorhees took him deeper. Just as Regan was able to fix on a point of escape, a blinding spike of molten pain opened up in his side. The water around him became slightly warmer as the numbing sensation of blood loss filled one of his minds. The others rushed in to compensate, and Regan winked out of existence for a fleeting instant.
Jack and his digital copy wheeled around with wide-eyed fear as a sudden splashing sound came from behind them. Their trigger fingers relaxed only slightly as they saw the waterlogged, mop-haired form of Dane Regan sagging to the arena floor. The swordsman gagged and heaved an effluence of silty water onto the floor, and clutched at this right side with a white knuckled grip.
"M'livers gon fall out." Regan mumbled in a matter-of-fact tone between haggard breaths. Handsome Jack jogged over to his partner and knelt to offer him a hand up.
"More pressingly, we gotta get you a blow dryer. The wet look really doesn't suit-" Handsome Jack quipped, before being cut off by his own, shrill scream. The sound of shattering tile and a blast of pain in his left leg. Looking down, the executive meddler was treated to the sight of a machete stabbed directly through his shin bone, nailing him to the ceramic floor. Instinct compelled Jack to try and wrench his leg free, but it was more pain than Jack had experienced for some time, and he only managed to not throw up.
"Gadammit." Regan breathed, limping forward to try and assist. A flash of danger crossed his mind, and it was everything in the agile man's power to avoid the snaking bramble of chains that whipped out of a puddle that had suddenly opened in the ground behind him. Bloodstained teeth flashed angrily as Dane tried to dig his fingers into the seams of the tile floor, resisting being dragged back into that hellish tank he had already escaped once. He felt his legs and, to his eternal agony, mutilated torso being dragged back under. The iron bindings had wrapped around his upper body and right leg, and the mage's eyes widened behind the thick ropes of hair that stuck to his face. If he resisted, there was every chance he was going to be torn in half.
It was only through the intervention of Jack's digital duplicate that Regan's torment was alleviated. The now-humorless assistant rush forward with his shotgun shouldered and blasted the ghostly puddle with the remainder of the weapon's magazine. One lucky shot sheared through the cruel metal of the chains, and the clanking strands whipped resentfully back under the frothing surface of the aquatic portal.
Once more, Dane heaved himself out of the water, coughing and groaning lowly. Time. He needed time to heal. But that seemed like it was going to be a precious commodity at this juncture. Meanwhile, the whimpering form of Handsome Jack was doing his best to slowly ease his impaled leg off of the absurdly thick blade when a sudden snort of noise roared to life behind him. Fully gripped by fear, Jack turned around, half expecting to see some demonic beast looming over him.
What he saw instead of flinty yellow eyes and snarling fangs was the persistently blasé countenance of a battered hockey mask. Jason was standing, patiently, with a puttering chainsaw held in both hands. What Vorhees did not do, however, was make any move to execute his handicapped opponents. Take your time, he seemed to say. I'm enjoying this.
CHH CHH CHH...
AH AH AH...
"Uh...your move twinkletoes." Jack said nervously as he and his facsimile slapped new magazines into their weapons. Regan, who was still without a specific weapon, blinked slowly as he watched the masked murderer advance on his...battle partner. Ally was probably too strong of a word at this point. He sighed.
Yes, I suppose we should do something, after all.
The orange coated trickster slipped seamlessly into his stealthy countenance, stalking towards the trundling Jason with all the poise and grace of a tabby cat. Sucking in a sharp breath, he shifted all of his weight onto his left foot, and swept his right leg at Vorhees' right foot as it stepped forward. The sensation was a bit like driving his shin into the trunk of an alder tree. The recalcitrant swordsman cried out in pain, reflexively gripping at his shin as Jason wheeled around and stared down at him with black, shark-like eyes.
"Uh."
Perhaps it had always been a ruse, the way Jason stomped slowly around this miniscule arena. Or, perhaps he could be spurred into great speed when presented with an easy kill. Either way, the sheer quickness of the giant's movement caught Regan off guard as he lunged down and gripped the sly magician by the throat. Dextrous hands clutched and clawed at the moldering jacket sleeve as Vorhees lifted Dane high into the air, his blood-spattered machete hanging loosely in his left hand. Ragged breathing came from behind the mask...a glint of excitement in otherwise hollow eyes.
"Shotgun?" asked Jack's digital brother.
"Shotgun!" the Prime counterpart said with a note of sadistic glee. Hot damn if this bare-chested ren faire wannabe wasn't making him look good! A pair of garishly yellow Hyperion weapons faded into existence in dual showers of cyan glitter. The Jacks took a step forward and took aim at Jason's upper and lower body, respectively. The following reports rang out harshly through the quaint little arena, and flayed open the marauder's back in a spray of burgundy gore. Dane felt the iron grip on his throat loosen slightly as a long wheeze escaped Jason's stricken throat. The giant began to teeter backwards, and Regan prepared to leap away from the stunned monster the second he hit hard pavement.
What happened instead was Jason and Dane disappearing through the white-tile floor in a splash of cool, mountain water. It took a moment for Jack to process what he had just seen, as the column of cascading fluid disappeared just as quickly as it had come. The surface of the arena rippled for a moment, but as Jack dashed forward and tested it with a probing boot, it was rock solid once more.
"Fabio! Uh...Dane?" Jack called, looking around in dawning panic.
Meanwhile, Regan and Jason tumbled and struggled in watery darkness. To say that he was disoriented would be a gross understatement on the mage's part. He felt those beartrap hands wrapping around his legs, dragging him down to untold depths of pain. His own muffled cries of anguish and the chilling carress of his own bubbly breath informed the perceptive victim that he was currently upside down. Ears burning from pressure, Dane reached out with his extrasensory faculties, trying not to let the cloying breath of fear cloud his mind.
It appeared as though this maniac mauler had manifested some sort of arbitrary tank beneath their previous stage. He could feel the thin ceiling of tiles behind his back, though it was rapidly drifting away as Vorhees took him deeper. Just as Regan was able to fix on a point of escape, a blinding spike of molten pain opened up in his side. The water around him became slightly warmer as the numbing sensation of blood loss filled one of his minds. The others rushed in to compensate, and Regan winked out of existence for a fleeting instant.
Jack and his digital copy wheeled around with wide-eyed fear as a sudden splashing sound came from behind them. Their trigger fingers relaxed only slightly as they saw the waterlogged, mop-haired form of Dane Regan sagging to the arena floor. The swordsman gagged and heaved an effluence of silty water onto the floor, and clutched at this right side with a white knuckled grip.
"M'livers gon fall out." Regan mumbled in a matter-of-fact tone between haggard breaths. Handsome Jack jogged over to his partner and knelt to offer him a hand up.
"More pressingly, we gotta get you a blow dryer. The wet look really doesn't suit-" Handsome Jack quipped, before being cut off by his own, shrill scream. The sound of shattering tile and a blast of pain in his left leg. Looking down, the executive meddler was treated to the sight of a machete stabbed directly through his shin bone, nailing him to the ceramic floor. Instinct compelled Jack to try and wrench his leg free, but it was more pain than Jack had experienced for some time, and he only managed to not throw up.
"Gadammit." Regan breathed, limping forward to try and assist. A flash of danger crossed his mind, and it was everything in the agile man's power to avoid the snaking bramble of chains that whipped out of a puddle that had suddenly opened in the ground behind him. Bloodstained teeth flashed angrily as Dane tried to dig his fingers into the seams of the tile floor, resisting being dragged back into that hellish tank he had already escaped once. He felt his legs and, to his eternal agony, mutilated torso being dragged back under. The iron bindings had wrapped around his upper body and right leg, and the mage's eyes widened behind the thick ropes of hair that stuck to his face. If he resisted, there was every chance he was going to be torn in half.
It was only through the intervention of Jack's digital duplicate that Regan's torment was alleviated. The now-humorless assistant rush forward with his shotgun shouldered and blasted the ghostly puddle with the remainder of the weapon's magazine. One lucky shot sheared through the cruel metal of the chains, and the clanking strands whipped resentfully back under the frothing surface of the aquatic portal.
Once more, Dane heaved himself out of the water, coughing and groaning lowly. Time. He needed time to heal. But that seemed like it was going to be a precious commodity at this juncture. Meanwhile, the whimpering form of Handsome Jack was doing his best to slowly ease his impaled leg off of the absurdly thick blade when a sudden snort of noise roared to life behind him. Fully gripped by fear, Jack turned around, half expecting to see some demonic beast looming over him.
What he saw instead of flinty yellow eyes and snarling fangs was the persistently blasé countenance of a battered hockey mask. Jason was standing, patiently, with a puttering chainsaw held in both hands. What Vorhees did not do, however, was make any move to execute his handicapped opponents. Take your time, he seemed to say. I'm enjoying this.
CHH CHH CHH...
AH AH AH...