07-30-2018, 11:52 PM
The dandelion-colored shotgun cracked off a loud report, and the heavy Hyperion buckshot hit Jason's face like a wall of leaden hail. For once, the titanic Prime actually stumbled backwards, and the signature hockey mask on his face was knocked loose. The behemoth found his footing after a few backsteps, his moldering boots squelching softly in the dewy moss. When he reared back to his full height, Jack tipped the immense firearm back onto his shoulder, and rose a condescending eyebrow. A low whistle rolled across the humid bog.
"Holy shit you guys, get a load of fugly." Jack chuckled, nodding his head towards Jason. Shantotto and Pennywise reared around, eyes wide as they took in the piteous features. A swollen, hairless brow bulged sullenly over unleveled eyes. A sunken nose, almost skeletal, dripped with a vile ooze that ran over a cleft palate. A sharp, biting laugh issued forth from the teen wolf, and an accusing claw was stretched towards the haggard visage.
"So he's a deformed mutant behind the mask? Just put it back on, that's all I ask!" Shantotto managed to squeak, despite her ravaged form. It was nice to be able to, at the very least, lob a few insults at the mysterious murderer. What else could they do? Clammy hands rose to cover Jason's face, and the immense man sank to his knees. He gently began to rock back and forth, half murmuring a pathetic noise that may have been a song.
Karl Jak's hands squeaked softly as his grip on his chair tightened. He always had to pay attention when Vorhees was in the ring, but this was a special case. It wasn't necessarily that he was concerned for Jason or the contestants; they knew what they were in for. At the very least, Jason seemed to enjoy Syntech's little games. But standing around laughing at the ugly mug of a deformed monster? It wasn't good television.
"Uh yeah Hans? Can we clip the feed on three-c? I'll let you know when- oh wait. Nevermind." Karl said, easing himself back into the shiatsu equipped recliner.
Meanwhile, in the chilled air of the camp's evening, screams of pain and terror filled the air. Jason moved as a shadow, forgoing the need for any sort of blade, power tool, or profane trickery. With a dull grunt of rage, Jason surged towards the toothy maw of Penny wise, gripping top and bottom jaw in two hands and ripping the pliable Prime almost entirely in half. Shanttoto could barely find the wherewithal to run before she was plucked up from the bushes like the rodent she was and repeatedly bashed into the dense trunk of a rustling spruce tree. Each crunching splat was a sharp reminder of just how baby-soft the skin of her face was.
Dull popping sounds eventually alerted Vorhees that the other masked man was shooting his guns again. As the red welts opened up on his back, Vorhees casually dumped the tarutaru's mess of a body on the ground. What could Jack do? Another one of him dissolved into the night, but Jason was tired of this. If masks were coming off, then so would this man's. He was deserving. They all were deserving. The small one, Jason had wanted to trust her. He had wanted to believe that she was small and different, but they were all Primes. Like any other Prime, she had to be killed.
Ch...ch...ch...
Ah...ah...ah...
The Digi-Jack was impaled through the chest by an arm like a birch tree. He evaporated back into cyan sparks without so much as a gurgle of protest. Jack withdrew his grenades again, but Jason was already upon him. There was savagery fueling every blow, jab, and kick to the already injured executive's body. A snarling, spittle-filled bark of rage that caused blood to gush out of the Handome one's abdominal injury in heavy jets. When he was finally on his feet, Jason grabbed hold of the other Prime's mask and tore it free. The synthetic visor writhed and glitched loathesomely as Handsome Jack was brought to the lowly status of, simply, Jack. The Hyperion's head lolled backwards, neck broken and thoroughly dead. Vorhees regretted his anger. He had wished to prolong the suffering. Jack's body was hurled into the black waters with a violent heave.
A low, hissing chuckle came from behind Jason as the final ripples faded away. The mutated face contorted into an expression of dull bemusement as Jason turned to see the leering deadlights bobbing inside the lycanthrope's sundered skull.
"Ohhhhohoh..." It gurgled, not bothering to reassemble its dangling bodyparts, "...I get it. My skull, the chimpmunk's face, and the bougie' buddy's mask, eh? All about the face. Bringing us down, down dowwwwn to your level." Pennywise hissed in a knowing tone. The mealy, unfocused eyes of Vorhees scanned the demon clown with a bored look. A look that seemed to say 'we were supposed to be done.'
"Oh don't be like that, Vorhees. Not going to take ol' Pennywise off the Christmas card list are you? What would Frederick think?" the clown cackled. Jason was now carrying a large canister, with chemical labels too faded and worn to make out. He set it down gently on the ground, where it rang with a hollow, metallic vibration.
"Something special? Just for me?" It squealed, placing a sincere hand on Its chest. Jason solemnly stomped towards the wriggling, half-dead teen wolf with grim purpose. The crescendo became too much for Pennywise to resist. It loped forwards, lead by Its arms in a simian fashion, gargling and howling with as much cinematic relish as It could muster. Jason met him half way, and the two became entangled. Dull moans and grunts escaped the towering hulk as he staggered around the mulched clearing, with every inch of Pennywise's writhing, shifted corpse biting into him. Teeth came and went, blood was spilled aplenty, and the entire time, Jason made his thrashing way towards the canister.
Then, with one final, hoarse yell, Jason flopped onto the container, which erupted into a cloud of bright, clean vapor. There was a deafening bang and roar, followed by utter silence. Not even the frogs, squatting in their grottoes, could overcome the sheer finality of the act. As the white cloud slowly cleared, it revealed the two icons of horror tangled still, but utterly motionless. They were frozen in a thick coating of rime, with long icicles comically drawn forth from their bodies. Still, in the end, it appeared that Jason had managed to force an undesired face onto the clown.
Handsome Jack's mask sat quiet and dead upon the darkened face of a half-shredded, flash-frozen werewolf.
"Holy shit you guys, get a load of fugly." Jack chuckled, nodding his head towards Jason. Shantotto and Pennywise reared around, eyes wide as they took in the piteous features. A swollen, hairless brow bulged sullenly over unleveled eyes. A sunken nose, almost skeletal, dripped with a vile ooze that ran over a cleft palate. A sharp, biting laugh issued forth from the teen wolf, and an accusing claw was stretched towards the haggard visage.
"So he's a deformed mutant behind the mask? Just put it back on, that's all I ask!" Shantotto managed to squeak, despite her ravaged form. It was nice to be able to, at the very least, lob a few insults at the mysterious murderer. What else could they do? Clammy hands rose to cover Jason's face, and the immense man sank to his knees. He gently began to rock back and forth, half murmuring a pathetic noise that may have been a song.
Karl Jak's hands squeaked softly as his grip on his chair tightened. He always had to pay attention when Vorhees was in the ring, but this was a special case. It wasn't necessarily that he was concerned for Jason or the contestants; they knew what they were in for. At the very least, Jason seemed to enjoy Syntech's little games. But standing around laughing at the ugly mug of a deformed monster? It wasn't good television.
"Uh yeah Hans? Can we clip the feed on three-c? I'll let you know when- oh wait. Nevermind." Karl said, easing himself back into the shiatsu equipped recliner.
Meanwhile, in the chilled air of the camp's evening, screams of pain and terror filled the air. Jason moved as a shadow, forgoing the need for any sort of blade, power tool, or profane trickery. With a dull grunt of rage, Jason surged towards the toothy maw of Penny wise, gripping top and bottom jaw in two hands and ripping the pliable Prime almost entirely in half. Shanttoto could barely find the wherewithal to run before she was plucked up from the bushes like the rodent she was and repeatedly bashed into the dense trunk of a rustling spruce tree. Each crunching splat was a sharp reminder of just how baby-soft the skin of her face was.
Dull popping sounds eventually alerted Vorhees that the other masked man was shooting his guns again. As the red welts opened up on his back, Vorhees casually dumped the tarutaru's mess of a body on the ground. What could Jack do? Another one of him dissolved into the night, but Jason was tired of this. If masks were coming off, then so would this man's. He was deserving. They all were deserving. The small one, Jason had wanted to trust her. He had wanted to believe that she was small and different, but they were all Primes. Like any other Prime, she had to be killed.
Ch...ch...ch...
Ah...ah...ah...
The Digi-Jack was impaled through the chest by an arm like a birch tree. He evaporated back into cyan sparks without so much as a gurgle of protest. Jack withdrew his grenades again, but Jason was already upon him. There was savagery fueling every blow, jab, and kick to the already injured executive's body. A snarling, spittle-filled bark of rage that caused blood to gush out of the Handome one's abdominal injury in heavy jets. When he was finally on his feet, Jason grabbed hold of the other Prime's mask and tore it free. The synthetic visor writhed and glitched loathesomely as Handsome Jack was brought to the lowly status of, simply, Jack. The Hyperion's head lolled backwards, neck broken and thoroughly dead. Vorhees regretted his anger. He had wished to prolong the suffering. Jack's body was hurled into the black waters with a violent heave.
A low, hissing chuckle came from behind Jason as the final ripples faded away. The mutated face contorted into an expression of dull bemusement as Jason turned to see the leering deadlights bobbing inside the lycanthrope's sundered skull.
"Ohhhhohoh..." It gurgled, not bothering to reassemble its dangling bodyparts, "...I get it. My skull, the chimpmunk's face, and the bougie' buddy's mask, eh? All about the face. Bringing us down, down dowwwwn to your level." Pennywise hissed in a knowing tone. The mealy, unfocused eyes of Vorhees scanned the demon clown with a bored look. A look that seemed to say 'we were supposed to be done.'
"Oh don't be like that, Vorhees. Not going to take ol' Pennywise off the Christmas card list are you? What would Frederick think?" the clown cackled. Jason was now carrying a large canister, with chemical labels too faded and worn to make out. He set it down gently on the ground, where it rang with a hollow, metallic vibration.
"Something special? Just for me?" It squealed, placing a sincere hand on Its chest. Jason solemnly stomped towards the wriggling, half-dead teen wolf with grim purpose. The crescendo became too much for Pennywise to resist. It loped forwards, lead by Its arms in a simian fashion, gargling and howling with as much cinematic relish as It could muster. Jason met him half way, and the two became entangled. Dull moans and grunts escaped the towering hulk as he staggered around the mulched clearing, with every inch of Pennywise's writhing, shifted corpse biting into him. Teeth came and went, blood was spilled aplenty, and the entire time, Jason made his thrashing way towards the canister.
Then, with one final, hoarse yell, Jason flopped onto the container, which erupted into a cloud of bright, clean vapor. There was a deafening bang and roar, followed by utter silence. Not even the frogs, squatting in their grottoes, could overcome the sheer finality of the act. As the white cloud slowly cleared, it revealed the two icons of horror tangled still, but utterly motionless. They were frozen in a thick coating of rime, with long icicles comically drawn forth from their bodies. Still, in the end, it appeared that Jason had managed to force an undesired face onto the clown.
Handsome Jack's mask sat quiet and dead upon the darkened face of a half-shredded, flash-frozen werewolf.