Jump to content

How to support MagneticFerret

MagneticFerret's 1st Official Writer's Challenge is HERE!
death note writing GIF
Follow us on Twitch


CBUB Match Judges
  • Posts

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won


ND7 last won the day on May 20 2020

ND7 had the most liked content!

Contact Methods

Profile Information

  • Gender
  • Location
    Stealing a car from a fake Jamacian

Previous Fields

  • Favorite Fiction Character
    Goku, The Lone Wanderer.
  • Favorite Non-fiction character?

Recent Profile Visitors

6593 profile views

ND7's Achievements

I am One with the Ferret.

I am One with the Ferret. (10/10)



  1. Man, 2 stars seems kinda harsh but I’ll take it all the same lol
  2. I would need to rewatch the first but I know the kid in 3 had one lol as for the sequels, I recently learned the director of the sequel hated horror movies...which explains quite a bit lol
  3. You see it’s interesting that you say that! A friend of mine mentioned that Kevin might be able to annoy them with the traps but they’ll end up just brute forcing their way in/outsmart him. i don’t really wanna give my two cents as it’s my match but I loved this post!
  4. (#2 of my tournament entries! This has been brewing in my head for a while! I love the lore behind the Trioxin Zombies/Return of the Living Dead in general. With the holiday season on the horizon, I thought it’d be fun to try and splice some horror with a little bit of holiday cheer. Though after this story, I doubt Kevin or anybody living in Chicago would find anything to cheer about! I do apologize for the length of this one! Less is always more but I feel that ideas need as much space as I feel they need to be properly executed. Nevertheless, enjoy!~) Lou was a simple driver. His contract required getting the objects in the back of his truck from Point A to Point B. Of course most delivery men weren’t driving armored trucks full of strange looking metal drums in the back. Pulling his baseball cap down a bit, Lou sighed as his windshield wipers flicked the descending snow away. “For crying out loud, out of all the nights that he needed this stuff it had to be today. Lousy Chicago weather.” He grumbled as he moved to flick on the radio. Maybe some music would calm his nerves. From what he’d been told he needed to be extra careful with the materials in the back. If anyone found out about me or if they were damaged in anyway… “Bad news for everyone.” Lou murmured to no one. Keeping his eyes focused on the road, the music coming out of his truck’s radio had the opposite effect of what he’d intended. ‘White Christmas’ by the Drifters. The song itself wasn’t bad or anything, infact he’d have loved to hear it playing on his record player at home while he guzzled down some of his client’s finest vodka. But at the moment it was just another reminder that he’d chosen his work over enjoying the holiday season again. Reaching back and tapping on the metal grille that acted as a barrier between the back and front of the truck, Lou called out. “Hey! Anyone ‘awake’ back there?” There was no response. Not that he’d expected one. Hell, he probably would have pissed his pants if he’d gotten one. “Yeah, I figured as much. Ah well, don’t worry Lou. Once you get to the spot, Vlad said he’d keep his end of the deal. I’ll be taken care of…” Any potential connotations coming from his client’s assurance didn’t even register with Lou. The two folks standing in the middle of the road certainly did though. Leave it to being in Chicago to bring out the weirdos. But at least most of em knew to stay out of the road! “CRAAAAAaaaaap-" Lou screamed as he quickly moved to swerve. The two men were too busy seemingly arguing among themselves to notice the impending truck. “Look, I said I was sorry alright? Can we just drop it, Harry?” “No, we’re not gonna ‘just drop it’, you mook! I’m telling you that guy in the cab recognized us! You wanna know HOW I know he recognized us, Marv?” “Tell me, Harry! I’m just DYIN TO KNOW!!” “It’s because YOU! KEEP! FLOODIN THE HOUSES WE GO AFTER!!” “Aw, c’mon Harry! It’s our tradition! It’s...It’s our mark!” Slipping an arm over the shoulder of his shorter partner, Marv grinned. “The Wet Bandits were here!” Before Harry could get a word in edgewise, both men shrieked as the finally caught wind of Lou closing in. They’d have dived in the snow but it would have been too late. Lou jerked the wheel and the truck flew from the road, trampling through the snow before finally coming to a stop against a tree. Having watched all that go down with utter terror, it wasn’t until Lou had crashed that the two men realized they were holding eachother in the other’s arms. “Get off me, you idiot! You know what this is, Marv?” Harry asked as he stepped across the road while looking over the truck. Marv followed suit with a quizzical look upon his face suggesting that he was actually giving the question some thought. “...It’s a truck.” If Harry could have rolled his eyes any harder, he was half sure they’d fall right out of his skull. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a truck Marv. But you know what kinda truck?” Tapping on the side of the vehicle, Harry couldn’t hide his giggles of delight. “It’s an armored one, buddy boy! This guy was probably going to drop off something important! Which means you and me? We hit the jackpot!” Marv held up his hands to the sky. “It’s a Christmas miracle!” “UGGGGHHH! RAAAAAGHH!” Giving the door a kick for good measure, Marv stomped on the snow. “It’s no good, Harry! We’d need sticks of dynamite to get in here!” Harry wasn’t impressed by his partner’s statement, believing it to be mere hyperbole. “These trucks are made to transport money, goods, and who knows what else? Of course, it’s not gonna be easy!” Picking up a nearby healthy-sized rock, Harry reared back his arm and swung it at the door. The door didn’t give way. “Just...a little...elbow grease!” Another swing and the door wasn’t any closer to opening. “...I DON’T THINK IT’S OPENIN, HARRY!” Marv exclaimed having moved to standing right beside his partner. “CRIPES! Don’t DO that! You scared me half to death!” Harry grumbled, a frothy stream of angry gibberish escaping past his lips. As the two continued to try and get in the truck and Lou was passed out in the seat, something was happening. One of the tanks had been knocked over by the crash and a foul looking yellow gas ebbed out from a crack in the canister. Hidden away by the lid of the toppled over canister was a thin layer of glass showing a rather disgusting cadaver. The flesh was black with the consistency of tar and it barely seemed to be sticking to the bones at this point in the decomposition process. It’s eyes shut and it’s yellow teeth on full display as it’s face was frozen in a frightened grimace. ….Then the eyes opened. The creature inside the tank couldn’t tell you how long it’d been in there. Or who had done the deed and shoved it in the tank to begin with. But it could remember some things. It was still blurry though almost as if the memories were broken up into bits and pieces. The year was 1968 and it remembered being dressed in a fine suit while laying atop a medical table. It also remembered the burning feeling of the formaldehyde coursing through it’s veins. But what bothered it most was the agonizing pain that’d haunted it then and resumed just as it opened it’s eyes for the first time in decades. Slamming it’s palms against the viewing glass on it’s canister, it’s mouth opened and a low guttural groan gurgled it’s way out of the corpse’s throat. “Ugh….” It needed to get out of here! It had to do something to stop the pain! The pain of being dead! After a few repeated strikes, the glass started to crack and- *THUD! THUD! THUD!* Something was slamming against the doors. From how loud the thuds were, Marv could only compare the urgency to an animal trying to escape from a cage. “Harry….” “...Yeah, Marv?” “...I...I don’t think that’s money this guy’s got in here.” Harry’s face scrunched up in quiet indignation but what he said next was anything but. “Hey! Jerkoff! You hustlin someone back here?? What? You….You one of those creeps you see on the late show who pick up and kidnap people?? Huh???” Harry yelled aloud but Lou was still too busy being knocked out. Harry scoffed. “I think we’re about to be heroes.” “...Us?? Heroes?? You really think so, Harry?” “Think so, I practically know so. Once we leave a tip that a certain pair of notorious outlaws caught some creep with hostages in his truck? Well, I’m sure there’s a reward in our future. Okay. On the count of three, Marv, we bust open this door. One….two…” Both men were knocked over as the doors were bashed open from the inside. What the two men saw after that? Should have only existed in the most dreadful of nightmares. But as the cold winds rattled it’s bones, the creature stood up to its full height. It’s mouth open and the look in it’s clouded eyes absolutely ravenous. It outstretched it’s hands and reached for Harry. “BRAINS!” It screeched and Harry and Marv didn’t know what was going on and they didn’t want to know. “AAAAAAAHHHHH!” The two burglars raced off back towards the neighborhood they’d been prowling before Harry had pissed off their cab driver. The same neighborhood that belonged to one Kevin McCalister! As for Lou, well, things weren’t looking so great. While the two men ran away from the horrible sight, Lou was coming to from where he’d briefly passed out in the driver’s seat. Judging by the horrible pain coursing through his head and the fact that a tree was right up in his face, it was clear shit had gone south real quick. “...Shit.” This was absolutely the worst case scenario. He’d have to get the truck out himself. Calling a tow service might have aroused more questions about why Lou had this truck. Ones that would have been of keen interest to certain people in the U.S. government. The same people who’d make sure Lou was never heard from again. Turning his head and catching those two idiots that’d caused him to crash running away in his mirror, Lou cursed under his breath. ...Well, normally that’d be a relief but why were they running? Was it because they’d caused an accident? “Assholes…”. Looking hesitantly over at the car phone he’d installed in his truck just for emergencies, he shook his head. Vlad wouldn’t be happy to hear that his precious cargo might have been jostled/delayed. He would have to just handle this himself and explain to Vlad what’d happened. Vlad would take care of him just like he’d said. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Lou winced as he reached over to unlock the glove compartment. Pulling out a plain beige looking manual and a Makarov pistol, he looked down at his legs. He’d twisted his left ankle. Things just kept getting worse. “Okay, okay. Don’t panic, Lou. Remember your karma, you can do this. You got so much riding on this.” He tucked the manual away in the back pocket of his jeans and clambered out the driver’s side door. Staggering over to the back of his truck, Lou froze dead in his tracks. He’d turned an unhealthy shade of pale once the thudding had started. “No...nononono…” THIS was the absolute worst scenario. One of the canisters must have been knocked over in the crash and one of those ‘things’ got loose.“Ooh! MORE brains!!” The undead figure shakily stepped down from the back of the truck and lumbered towards Lou. “MORE brains…” It croaked as it’s tongue wagged like a gluttonous dog. Frantically reaching into his pocket to pull out the pamphlet he’d been given, he flipped through some of the pages, some of which bared important details: the chemical causing this corpse to walk was known as 2-4-5 Trioxin developed by the Darrow Chemical Company/this one in particular was one of those captured during the 1968 events in Pittsburgh/their limbs would move independently if severed. “Okay, okay but how do you KILL THEM?!” He flipped to the last page which was the only English text. ‘They cannot be killed once re-animated.’ Dropping the pamphlet to the ground, Lou’s shoulders slumped. “Ah, man…” The zombie with the tar-like consistency grabbed onto either side of Lou’s head amid his screams and pleads for mercy. *CRUNCH* “Brains…” Sometime later after having completely emptied Lou’s cranium of grey matter, ‘Tarman’ let his body fall to the ground and shuffled over to where the gun had fallen. As the Trioxin continued to escape to pollute the rest of Chicago, the zombie picked up the gun and looked over his shoulder. He wouldn’t be put back in the barrel again. No way. He’d keep going and find more brains. “Braaains….” So, off he went, shambling away. The sights and sounds of people in passing cars or on sidewalks didn’t bother him. It didn’t even so much as deter him from continuing to move forward. He was in pain and he needed more brains to quench it, even if just briefly. As the snow outside continued to descend, the creature’s form was slightly obscured, particularly from youths that happened to be riding their bike around the block to try and enjoy their freedom. “Leave me alone, will they? Well, who needs em?? I can have fun all on my own! Nobody else means no rules! The world is my oyster!” Kevin exclaimed bundled up in his snow gear as it were. “Ugh, getting kinda hard to see out…” Maybe...Maybe he should turn back. But noticing a figure off in the distance, Kevin squinted. Why were they moving like that? Were they hurt or stupid or something? The zombie for his part couldn’t quite make Kevin out. But he could smell the fresh brains coming closer and closer to him. Raising the gun he’d stolen from Lou’s corpse, the zombie attempted to take aim and fired. The shot was off by a country mile and then some. “Grrr….” He tried again and was even farther off. The snow plus the strain of decomposition on his body certainly weren’t helping his poor aim. Kevin reacted pretty understandably to what he believed to being shot at. “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING??! DID YOU JUST SHOOT AT ME??? I’M! A! KID!” Kevin screamed at the top of his lungs but as he’d gotten closer, he finally saw his attacker for who and what it was. Forgoing the gun now that Kevin was within his sights, the zombie grinned like a dog who’d eyed his favorite treat and reached out. “BRAINS!!” Kevin screamed and did the only thing he could think of. He leaped from the bike and the bicycle crashed right into the zombie who looked more confused than anything else. “Brains…?AAAAH!” The bike knocked him off his feet and right into a nearby pile of snow on some poor guy’s lawn. The bruises he was going to get once this over aside, Kevin quickly pushed himself up and didn’t even look twice at Tarman’s downed form, instead moving to pick up his bike and peddle on back home. The gas had spread far and wide and finally found a home in the local cemetery. If Kevin thought getting left behind was bad, the night was going to get even worse. Peddling all the way back home, Kevin let his bike drop onto the front lawn and raced back inside, locking the front door behind him. He didn’t know if that was just some nut in a costume or what but the guy positively reeked! Like moldy food left over in the fridge rank! Making his way back up to his room, Kevin looked out the window and saw two guys running from house to house banging on the doors. “...As if this night couldn’t get any weirder.” Harry and Marv didn’t know what they saw, truthfully they didn’t WANNA know. That thing in the truck looked like death warmed over and getting their skulls cracked open like walnuts wasn’t exactly on the list of things to do. Who knew if it was still coming after them? Or who the hell that guy was that was driving the truck??? All questions that the Wet Bandits just didn’t have answers for. So, as far as they were concerned, the safest place for them was a jail cell. “You know, uh, Harry. I thought we’d be spending Christmas with the stuff we looted. Not in the local jail.” “Yeah, and I didn’t expect to see death warmed over in the back of that car either. It wasn’t even carrying any jewels or a sack of money. But I’ll tell you this for free, Marv. I wanna be as far away and as well guarded against those things as I can. If it means biting the bullet and calling the fuzz then so be it. Those things can’t get through iron bars.” ….Marv nodded his head in agreement. It was some pretty sound logic. “Look! I see a squad car rolling up!” Harry pointed out as the police cruiser stopped a few feet away from the two. An older looking officer with snow white hair and aviator glasses stepped out and looked at the two. “Hello boys, we’ve been getting reports of people acting erratically. You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” The officer asked with an eyebrow raised as he approached. “Yep! That’s us! Y’know, the Wet Bandits! Always keeping you guys on your toes!” Harry exclaimed only for Marv to laugh and add on. “Yeah, we had you guys totally fooled-oof!” An elbow to the gut quickly shut him up though. “Look, officer. I don’t care what we need to do. What I gotta confess to but you NEED to get us out of here. Something bad’s coming this way and I don’t wanna be here when it does.” Tilting his head ever so slightly to the right, the officer seemed confused. “...Well, we’ve been looking for the so called ‘Wet Bandits’ for quite a while. Seems one of you has a knack of leaving the houses you rob flooded.” Harry angrily looked at Marv who sheepishly shrugged. “...But what do you mean something ‘bad’, son?” Before Harry could properly respond, he blinked. “....Hey, did either of you hear that?” “Hear what?” Marv and the cop replied. Although they couldn’t hear it at first, Kevin sure did and looking at the end of the street, he saw what looked like a crowd of people barreling forward. Their screams and groans filling the night sky. But the thing that made Kevin and the Wet Bandit's blood run cold was the crowd’s unifying cry. “BRAAAAAAINS!!!” “Let’s get the hell out of here, Harry!” Marv screamed as the two turned and started sprinting away leaving the officer alone with a horde of the recently re-animated undead charging towards him. Some of them looked pale if nothing else, maybe having been recently buried, while others looked like they were barely holding together with bones and sinew visible and some parts like hands or legs missing. “Freeze!” The horde didn’t obey the instruction. “STOP OR I’LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!!” The cop shouted once it became clear the horde wasn’t going to listen. He fired and Kevin could only watch in horror from his bedroom window as two zombies were staggered by the shot while another two football tackled the cop to the ground. One of them pulled off his hat and opened it’s mouth and- *CRUNCH* Ducking away from the window, Kevin curled up and brought his knees in close. “It ATE his brains! Bit into his head just like an apple!” Forget about Christmas, forget about being left alone, this was serious! Rushing from his bedroom, Kevin wracked his brain trying to think of what to do. There were so many of them outside! “Think, Kevin, think! You’ve gotta-” *THUD! THUD!* Slowly turning his head to look down the stairs at his front door, Kevin hesitated to open it or even move a muscle. Could one of those things smell that he was in here? Did it see him in the window? Or was it just taking a guess? Grabbing his BB gun off his dresser, Kevin took one careful footstep after another as he approached the front door. The thudding continued all the while and once he was close, Kevin quietly knelt down and peeked through the mail slot in the door. What he saw was one of the gnarliest looking things he’d ever seen. Half the flesh had rotten off this zombie’s face exposing muscle and skull. One of it’s hands had fallen by the wayside and it’s one remaining eye was clouded over. But despite the poor state it was in, it stood at the door and continued to bang it’s forearm against it, over and over. “Braiiiins…..” “Okay, Kevin...Time for a test.” See what affects these guys. Poking the barrel of the BB rifle out through the mail slot and pressing it right up against the zombie’s crotch, Kevin pulled back the trigger and fired. The bb hit it’s mark but as the zombie looked down, it grit it’s teeth and seemed frenzied more than hurt. It knew for sure now that there were brains in here! “LET ME IN!! BRAAAAAINS!!” Grabbing the rifle and swinging it aroun so he was holding it by the barrel, Kevin tried to think up a second plan. “Okay, BBs don’t seem to do much. But what about…” Reaching up and unlocking the door, Kevin pulled it open and right as the zombie lunged, Kevin cracked it in the head with the gun, breaking the gun to pieces but sending the zombie stumbling back down off the porch. “Eat that, brain eater!” Slamming the door shut, Kevin raced back upstairs. That wasn’t going to keep the zombie down for long and more of them were going to show up once they’d finished attacking the other houses. He needed to get to the phone! Call anyone, the police, the national guard, the CIA!!! But if any of these things got in... Well, worst case scenario. Time to put his brain to work and keep these ghouls out of his house! Meanwhile… “Brains…..” Tarman had picked himself up from where Kevin had knocked him down with his bike. He could hear all the commotion going on, hell, he’d seen the other zombies rip themselves free of the cemetery and run past him. None even offering to help him up. But that was okay. He’d get there in time, just a little slower than the rest. “Need….more….brains…” (OK! Bit of a long write up again but I’m pretty proud of/happy with the end result! The scenario is basically Kevin setting up his traps to try and stem the tide of Trioxin Zombies from breaking into his house until authorities arrive(spoiler alert: these aren’t your Romero zombies we’re dealing with.)which should take two hours at most given how spread out the zombies are/causing amok elsewhere. Also, this is just for my own clarification/amusement but the implication behind ‘Lou’ and his client was a hint/reference to Return of the Living Dead’s original script which hinted that Russians were behind the events of Night of the Living Dead getting kicked off/wanting to get their hands on Trioxin themselves. That little bit of explanation out of the way: hope you guys enjoy!)
  5. This means so much! I’m working on my next match and I’ve definitely taken into mind your comments about length! It’s always something I’ve struggled with as a writer in general. But I guess a part of it for me is the mindset that ‘it’s finished when it’s finished’ I hope you’ll enjoy the second entry just as much ❤️
  6. Thank you so much, DS! We should catch up sometime! You know it’s interesting you say that because in the video game when Roy was added as another ‘Jason’, people complained about it’d be ‘unrealistic’ for Roy to perform the game’s kills and so the devs at first handwaved it as ‘oh Roy believes he IS Jason.’ And people still complained so they just outright said ‘guys. It’s a video game.’ Something I tried to play with as far as the story goes is ; is it really Jason’s ghost egging Roy on? Does he believe that he’s actually Jason? Or are Tommy and him both just nut jobs and Jason is just rotting six feet under?? Keep ya on your toes and all~
  7. (#1 of my two entries for the CBUB/EF Halloween tournament! It’s been a good couple months since I’ve written a match-more so participating in a tournament! I wish the best of lucky to everyone else! But most of all, I hope you enjoy my entries!) ~~~ Pinehurst had been created with the intention of helping troubled youths. Those whom society had deemed as too troublesome to deal with out in public. Hide them away and let their problems become someone else’s. The hope was that given enough time and counseling the residents could improve themselves and eventually leave the grounds in order to lead a happier, healthier life. That had been the intention. Emphasis on the had. The recent death of one the halfway home’s occupants had changed everything for the worse. The murder in question leaving a youth by the name of ‘Joey’ hacked to bloody pieces after attempting to offer a chocolate treat to one of the home’s more volatile members. His body was carted away and his killer arrested but unknown to anyone at the time, one of the paramedics called to the scene had a closer connection to the slain boy. That’d been his only son and the sight of him having been savagely cut apart tore away at Roy Burns’s psyche. Watching over his son from afar but always keeping his distance to let the boy lead his own life was called into question. Could he have prevented this if he’d been more active in his son’s life? If he’d gotten him away from Pinehurst to begin with? All questions that wouldn’t change the reality of the situation: his son was dead, murdered, and what was going to be done about it? The killer had already been caught and booked by the proper authorities but what would hurt this cursed place more than losing two of its members? Losing even more, Roy imagined. But that was utter lunacy! He hadn’t the stomach for such violence, let alone perpetuating an act of murder himself. No, what seemed more likely in his mind was to drink it all away. Maybe he’d die of alcohol poisoning before the guilt overcame him. As he’d wrapped up work for the night and started on the long drive back home, Roy felt a strange feeling growing within him. It felt like the atmosphere had changed. It’d grown colder, deathly chill as a matter of fact. But it was bright and sunny out and he had the heat on in his truck. What could it have been? If the traumatized paramedic had paid more attention to the rest of Pinehursts’s inhabitants, he might have noticed a familiar one living among them. It’d make sense of course, this one in particular had made headline news when he was only a child. His name was Tommy Jarvis and he killed Jason Voorhees. Having been attacked in 1984 by the masked maniac who’d slaughtered a nearby cabin of teenagers and even the Jarvis siblings’s mother, it was only thanks to Tommy’s attempt to confuse the mentally ill manchild by shaving his hair off to look like Jason in his youth that he got in close enough to deliver a headstrike with Jason’s own machete. It seemed as though Tommy and his older sister, Trish, had been saved. But after noticing the faintest of twitches coming from the serial killer’s prone body, Tommy continued his strikes until Jason’s corpse was covered in more wounds than any of his victims. The police came soon after and understood that Tommy had killed the attacker in self-defense. Only there was a problem in Tommy’s mind. The police and psychiatrist both kept referring to Jason as ‘that man’/’the killer’. When Tommy insisted that the man he’d killed was none other than Jason Voorhees, the responses, especially from Detective Rico of the Crystal Lake Police Department were less than sympathetic. Pulling the doctor aside just for a moment, Rico let his true feelings be known. “You don’t expect me to seriously believe this bullshit, do you? That guy-who that little creep hacked up like a Thanksgiving goose by the by-must have been what? Late 20s-early 30s? Jason Voorhees was a kid and he DIED. Back in the goddamn 1950s-” “With all due respect, Detective. Tommy has been through a severe amount of trauma. I’m sure if we give him time, he’ll come to realize that man was just someone using the ‘Jason’ mythos as a tool, an excuse for his killings.” The detective didn’t seem convinced. Putting out his cigarette and flicking it into the nearest wastebin, he scoffed. “Well, you’re the one with the PHD, doc. But the way I see it? The guy we got down at the morgue? He’s John Doe and that’s all he’ll ever be up until he’s just a pile of ash blowing in the wind….” He turned back to the door where Tommy could be seen through the glass staring blankly ahead. “...Fuckin kid gives me the creeps.” Despite the detective’s skepticism, the man that Tommy had killed was indeed the figure of legend. Having somehow survived his near-drowning back in the fifties, Jason Voorhees survived in the woods, little more than a hermit. Up until the killings started and even with Jason’s death at the hands of Tommy, they weren’t going to stop anytime soon. For some who lived around the Crystal Lake area, the legend of Jason Voorhees may have had more weight than the actual man himself. Roy was going to become very aware of that all too soon. Passing by the site where Jason’s gravestone stood-covered in dirt and slightly tilted-, the chilling feeling within his truck only grew worse. As he leaned forward to attempt to adjust the AC, he noticed something in his mirror. Something that wasn’t him looking back at his reflection. The figure in the mirror wore a dark green button up shirt, stained with dried blood, and brown pants equally as stained with blood. But the most distinguishing feature had to be the hockey mask hiding the figure’s face. Cold black holes with worms surging out of them stared him down and Roy screamed. *SCREEEECH!* The truck came to a sudden stop and Roy’s head banged against the steering wheel. He was out but in his daze, things were steadily becoming more clear. The one he’d seen in the mirror. It looked just like that guy in the papers. The one who’d killed all those people. One might have wondered why an image of him had appeared before Roy but it made sense to him. It was a sign for sure! He needed to man up and do what needed to be done. The legend of ‘Jason Voorhees’ was still strong within this community and who better to commit a slaughter than Jason himself? Slowly picking his head up from the steering wheel, Roy looked at the mirror, a red streak of blood running down his forehead. Whether it was an hallucination brought on by Roy’s stress/trauma or the killer’s spirit preying on Roy’s vulnerability to try and exact revenge on Tommy from beyond the grave, it didn’t matter to him. The slow nod of approval was all that Roy needed. All that was left was a quick stop to buy some ‘essentials.’ ~~~ The massacre that unfolded at Pinehurst wasn’t justice. Not in the eyes of the law, anyway. It was simply the deranged acts of a man who was driven mad with grief. Or for those like Tommy Jarvis-who’d been transferred to Pinehurst after being kicked out of four other previous halfway homes-another attempt of Jason’s to get at him. As rain poured down around him, Tommy watched as ‘Jason’ approached him. The attire was different, the mask had a unique design, and even the body type was off. But hobbled as he was with a chainsaw wound to his shoulder and a cut from a tractor across his midsection, the killer closed in with a machete held high. Roy the paramedic hadn’t known who Tommy was beyond him ‘being the boy who killed Jason’, He didn’t really care either. But in Tommy’s eyes, Roy and Jason were two sides of the same coin. The ‘spectre’ that Roy had seen shifting places with him repeatedly in Tommy’s damaged mind. Frozen in fear, there was little that Tommy could do as the imposter moved to strike- -Wait! Losing his footing as a result of the rain slicking the roof, the machete fell from Roy’s hands and after a hearty kick from Tommy, he plummeted back off the roof with a loud thud. His mask knocked off and his face a blank stare. Just as Tommy’s had been all those years ago after killing the actual Jason. The police apprehended Roy and it was only after the fact that Tommy learned of Roy’s connection with Joey. But much to Detective Rico’s annoyance, Tommy refused to believe that Jason hadn’t been behind Roy’s actions in someway, a malicious spirit guiding the former paramedic’s hands so to speak. “You’ve got to listen to me! This isn’t just some coincidence! This is Jason working against me! He’s dead and buried but I’m telling you! He worked through this guy-this...this ‘Roy’ to get at ME!” Rico took a long drag off his cigarette before slamming his fist down onto the table startling both Tommy and his doctor. “Yeah? Well, you wanna know what I think? I think you’re a fucking basketcase! What? You want me to file a report saying a ghost told this guy to hack up all these kids? No, no you know something? Why is it that you always seem to be involved when shit goes tits up in Crystal Lake, Jarvis? Burns, that guy-” “That GUY was JASON VOORHEES-” “JASON VOORHEES IS DEAD, YOU LITTLE FUCKING PRICK-” “Detective!” Taking a particularly long drag on his cigarette, Rico glared at Jarvis. “You better get your shit together, Jarvis. One’s enough, two’s trouble…You just hope we don’t get to three.” Walking out of the room to vent his frustrations elsewhere, Tommy continued to confide in his doctor to no avail. Rico hadn’t gone too far though. Having stepped out to use the phone, he seemed to be talking to someone...but who? What of Roy, you may find yourself wondering? No longer would he have to worry about things such as a ‘job’ or ‘family.’ The state had it all taken care of: a padded room and straitjacket is just what Roy really needed. After some discussions with his own doctor, Roy seemed to be breaking whatever spell he’d been put under. He’d suffered a mental break after the gruesome murder of his son. In his delirious state, he dressed up as ‘Jason Voorhees’ and went on a killing spree. There hadn’t been any ‘chilling feelings’ or ‘signs of a ghost’ or if there had been? It was all just hallucinations brought on by trauma! But while his doctor seemed happy at the progress they’d been making over the past few months, Roy’s own stare seemed...somewhat focused elsewhere? “Roy? Roy, are you okay?” The doctor asked but Roy didn’t respond. His attention was too focused on the figure towering over the doctor. Blood dripping down the worndown surface of the figure’s hockey mask from the gaping head wound, those same black sockets stared Roy down and he reached out with his hands extended. The flesh on said hands looking rotten and devoid of life. Like those of a body straight out of the morgue. Some screams there and a gurgle of blood there, the figure had moved to take his place behind Roy with Roy’s hockey mask in one hand and his outfit in the other. Maybe it was the spectre’s influence on Roy or just the man having been beaten down by all that he’d been through. But after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out for the objects. To become ‘Jason’ once more. ~~~ Tommy’s continued demands that Crystal Lake’s mayor’s claim of Jason having been cremated be investigated/that there was more of a supernatural explanation behind Roy’s killing spree was bringing a lot of bad press around the area. With that, more psychos seeking to piggyback off the Jason mythos for their own sick and twisted gains were sure to follow. That was what worried Detective Rico. It was also why he’d made a call to his superiors. That someone with experience with mental cases like this come down and attempt to get any information-if at all-out of Roy Burns. “I-I know it sounds like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill here, but you’re not the one who’s gonna get his ass chewed out by the mayor if this nutjob keeps blabbering to anyone who’ll listen! Sir.” Detective Rico murmured into the phone. “Jason Voorhees is nothing more than a pile of ash! If anything’s causing these deaths, it’s whackjobs like Jarvis who keep attracting/pushing guys like Burns into donnin the mask and starting shit that we have to clean up!” “...I think I have someone who could help us.” Clarice Starling had planned to deal with some of the worst this country had to offer. Being in the FBI had it’s perks but she was sure that encountering people like Buffalo Bill would have had some people thinking it wasn’t worth it. But Clarice was anything but weak-willed enough to give up after dealing with a creep or two. So, it was when she’d heard about being requested to come down to Crystal Lake, New Jersey, she’d jumped at the bit. She’d heard of the killings that’d transpired there. They’d been different from the likes of Bill or even Hannibal. From all that she knew, it was different men all adopting the same persona. That of a dead boy risen from the depths of the lake to wreck havoc on anyone who dared enter onto the lake’s grounds. Opportunists who simply desired the fame and thrill that came with trying to become a living legend. Starling saw them as just demented psychos with a need for attention. Still, even if it didn’t excuse murder by any means, Clarice wasn’t heartless. She’d been informed of the circumstances surrounding this ‘Roy Burns’s spree. He’d seen his own son mutilated with an ax. With no one to confide in and no support system, it was a lot for one man to carry all alone. It was her job to try and piece together what she could. The chief of police over in Crystal Lake made it sound as though Roy had made great progress/would be more than willing to speak with her. ...That wasn’t exactly the scene that greeted her. Arriving at the Crystal Lake Mental Institution, she was surprised that she hadn’t been greeted. In fact it almost seemed too quiet. She’d been expecting Roy’s doctor to at least be waiting for her outside? “Hello?” As she moved up the steps to the door, she mused. “Maybe I should have called ahead.” Giving the door a push open, she felt some weight against it. “What the…” Putting her back into it, she gave the door a rough shove and a wet plop filled her ears and the sight of Roy’s doctor, her head barely hanging on after it's been ripped backwards greeting her, having been propped up against the door like some macabre decoration. “Shit!” She exclaimed as she immediately went to draw her piece. She’d come here to talk to-maybe even help Roy, and instead she was greeted with a corpse and blood soaked hallways. Roy was in here somewhere and she had to find him. For his part, Roy continued to stroll down the halls, the lights flickering overhead as he went. Although he didn’t pay it any mind, the reflection in the blood of an orderly that he’d disemboweled wasn’t of him. But none other than Jason Voorhees... ~~~~ (Apologies for the lengthy setup! I got a bit ‘motivated.’ Basically, this is Clarice after the events of Silence of the Lambs but before Hannibal/Roy is operating under the idea that he survived the events of Part 5 and was instead found criminally insane. The circumstances for this fight are for Clarice to either subdue Roy or use lethal force on him if need be. Roy WILL kill her if he can and he may or may not be possessed by Jason. Or maybe it’s a hallucination. Or maybe he really thinks he IS Jason. Who knows! But I hope you enjoy and have a spooooky month!~)
  8. It’s so good to see you again, Grano! Leaving this post here so I can edit it later when I’m not working.
  9. I think something funky is going on with the text! I had to highlight your post to read any of it. That said, I dig the matchup! Reptile's acid spit might take Anakin for a bit of a loop. Not sure if it'd just sizzle against the saber's blade but if any of it gets on Anakin himself, Reptile better make sure it's a fatal wound or things are gonna get bad real quick. It's eluded to more when Anakin is better written(like in Clone Wars!)but the guy is a total berserker when he gets pushed too far. Reptile spitting acid at him and clearly trying to kill him plus a couple of acid burns here and there is gonna get Anakin's blood pumping and Reptile isn't gonna be able to tank swipes from the lightsaber. The invisibility would be annoying but once Anakin sidesteps some acid spit/a projectile, he can reach out and grab Reptile with the force and once that happens? It's pretty much over from there. Dunno if Anakin would kill him at this point since he needed prodding to off Mace in the prequels but if Reptile doesn't explain himself/give Anakin the answers he wants, he's getting the shit kicked out of him. Fun matchup, Russ : )
  10. Sorry for not commenting on this sooner! I think this was an excellent write-up and the framing of Khazan was great! The idea of characters like Jiren, Joker, and Saitama just casually standing around as Yang and Fixit throw hands is hilarious. Almost feels like it'd be the backdrop for a 2D-fighting game with Jiren paying the battle no mind, Saitama just wanting to get the paperwork done so he can catch up the latest sale in the Khazan Market, and Joker and Bell just wanting to make it out of here in one piece. I can't really say I speak as an authority on Joe but after doing some research on him, I feel like I'm leaning more towards him! Yang's punches are definitely gonna be felt given the feats we've seen her pull off like punching away a Ursa just as big-if not bigger than Joe or smashing a mecha built for war with nothing but her bare fists. Joe's best bet would be to try and place Yang into something of a submission hold and choke her out before letting this drag out for too long. Because if he gets stronger and stronger and gives Yang one good punch, he's not gonna like it when she returns that same level of PUNCH right back at him. Awesome write up, my friend. : )
  11. (Another match-up coming your way! Figured I’d do this in lieu of the other one I have planned not really panning out length-wise. It was inspired by both my friend AVP’s excellent Yang Xiao Long vs Joe Fixit match which you should definitely comment on(I haven’t yet….) and show him some love! The other was this excellent short animation by Worthikids! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pdF1a7Qi9c It’s where I’ll be basing this Jason’s characterization off! That said, I hope you all enjoy this! : ) ) Everyone had those days where you just didn’t want to get out of bed. The blanket was warm, you’d just gotten comfortable, you were tired. But no matter how much you have pleaded with yourself, you knew there were things that needed to get done no matter how much you may have wanted to put them off more and more. Even serial killers like Jason Voorhees. Laying with his blanket pulled over his head and teddy bear clutched under his arm, it was quite the contrast from the brooding silent murderer that plagued the shores of Crystal Lake. It was all just for appearance’s sake though. He didn’t sleep anymore. One of the perks of being a zombie he supposed. Plus the last time he fell under, it hadn’t been great.* Slipping one massive gloved hand out from under the covers, he tossed the blanket off and lurched from the bed, the floorboards creaking under the soles of his boots. It hadn’t been his idea to get hardwood when he seemed to be eternally waterlogged and dripping rancid smelling water wherever he walked but it is what is. He didn’t have the money to buy new flooring. As a matter of fact, he’d been strapped for cash ever since his ‘legal’ issues popped up. One person said they owned him, another guy said he did. It’d tied everything up which meant Jason had been working from the home and that meant no killing teenagers, having to watch the kids-not that he minded it-, and having to deal with Freddy more than he liked. Nobody wanted to hire the big lug for video games, to be the antagonist in a book, or anything. Even the medium from which he’d called home was of no aid. Any movie plans would have to wait until the lawsuit had come to a close. Whenever that’d end up happening though? Jason felt he could have lived for a hundred years and still not know. Grabbing his jacket and mask off the back of his door, he slipped them on and stepped out of his room and nearly stumbled into Scissormen* and Sadako both running around. The means with which Jason had ended up saddled with the two haunting children was it’s own story. One filled with heartache and misery. But no matter the headaches they caused, Jason took care of them. As much care as fellow monsters needed anyway. With all the free time he’d garnered as a result of the lawsuit, Jason had taken up hobbies he’d have never been able to pursue before. Thanks to the Necronomicon giving him just a shred more intelligence than he’d had in life, he took up ASL as a way to try and more easily communicate with those around him. It didn’t always pan out but he did his best. (‘Are you two behaving?’) Scissormen wandered off as something caught his eye leaving Sadako to be the one to answer her quasi-father figure. (‘Yes. We heard Freddy yelling about money so we came to play out here. Sorry if we woke you up.’) Jason waved it off before reaching down to gently ruffle the spirit’s hair. (‘You know Freddy, he’s either complaining or making bad jokes. One or the other. I’’ll go talk to him. You keep having fun, okay?’) Sadako nodded and Jason waited until she was out of eyesight before he shook his head. The way things were looking if he didn’t find some way to bring in money, the four of them were going to end up on the street. Killing teenagers was part of who they were but it didn’t pay the bills. Stepping down the hall until he reached Freddy’s room, Jason let himself in and saw Freddy staring at the two pictures that Jason had mounted on the wall. The one on the left had a bloodsoaked Ash with his arm wrapped around a babe and his chainsaw raised to the sky in victory as Jason stood in the background with his arms severed and his face mangled from Ash’s shotgun. ‘Better luck next time, Hockeypuck!’-Ash’ was written on the picture itself. The other one had Michael Myers standing shoulder to shoulder with his fellow mute killer. His head had been partially crushed with brain matter leaking out from the sides and his eyeballs poking out. Jason for his part was covered in stab wounds and had Michael’s knife poking out through the top of his head. “You were one of the greats back in the day, y’know? You managed to get a fight in the back issues! How many people can say that??” Freddy asked as he turned to face Jason who seemed to mull over the question before giving a concise answer. (‘Quite a few actually. I only had two and I lost one of them. By a country mile.’) “Yeah but it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s about popularity! I haven’t had a movie since the 90s! But you’ve still got people who know I am and I even fought a guy from Star Wars on here! Star...Whatever his name was! The point is that we’re strapped for cash and ever since things have started popping off around here again, I think it might be time you and I step back in the ring, you get me?” A head tilt was the only reply he got. “I’m not talking about you and me! Though, heh, we’d know who’d win that one-” “Me” (‘Me.’) …. The two killers looked off to the side and Jason silently coughed. “...Anyway. I had something of an idea. Take these pictures down to the office and ask for a fight. If the people want you and me to tear eachother limb from limb? We’ll do it, nothing keeps us down for long anyway. It’s about the only shot we’ve got left. If this doesn’t pan out? We’ll end up like that poor schmuck.” Pulling open the blinds, Freddy pointed out the window at a man with a lean frame wearing a ragged blue jumpsuit with dried blood caking the tears in it. Strapped to his chest was a sign reading: ‘WILL KILL YOU FOR CASH.’ Maybe it was the jumpsuit or the hockey mask that strongly resembled Jason’s own apart from the blue chevrons instead of the iconic red but that man felt oddly familiar.* “So, will you do it, wormfood?” Jason grabbed the picture frames off the wall and stared at them. They were memories from an age long since passed. When people flocked to pit characters like him against just about anybody by the dozens. He missed them but even if he hated to admit it, Freddy was right about this. This may have been their only shot at keeping their house. (‘I’ll do it!’) ~~~ “Denied. Apologies, Mr. Voorhees.” (‘Mr. Voorhees was my father’s name. Just call me Jason.’) The office that Jason had wandered off to looked like it hadn’t been used for quite some time. The paint was chipping off the walls, the tiles were cracked and chipped, and Jason was sure he’d seen a rat or two wander on by. With the resurgence that seemed to have been running through the districts, you’d think this place would have been less of a dump. The person sitting behind the desk was nearly obscured by the absolute mountain of paperwork situated in front of her. “Well, Jason, after hearing what you’ve been going through, I’m afraid that it’s just not worth the risk of getting wrapped up in the lawsuit you spoke of. The lights have just come back on and the people working this office need to feed their families, not get mixed up in potential legal kerfuffles. I’m sorry.” (‘Nobody would have to know! It can be an under the table fight! I’ll hide the body once I’m done! I’ve got to fight or else I’m going to lose my home and this lawsuit’s preventing me from popping up just about everywhere! The last fight I had was against somebody from the….’) Jason’s frantic gesturing showed he was at a loss. ‘Yusuke Urameshi from the anime district. You lost by over 11 votes, goodness gracious. I can’t imagine who thought that was a fair matchup at all.’ The office worker chided with a dismissive shake of the head. “I hear you, Jason. I wish there was something I could do, I really do. But the powers that be here in Khazan just think you’re too much of a liability. I’m truly sorry.” Jason’s shoulders slumped and in one last attempt to curry some kind of favor, he picked up Sadako and held her to the viewing window where the office worker quickly ducked under her desk. “I-I know things have been quiet until very recently, Jason, but I know everyone registered very well! You keep that one away from me! Seven days waiting to die is not how I wanna go out!” Jason set Sadako back down. (‘Sorry. I tried.’) (‘Eh, it’s ok. Thanks anyway.’) He couldn’t say things were going to be fine because they weren’t. That lawsuit’s reach had pervaded even into the depths of Khazan. It wasn’t enough that they’d stopped everyone else from enjoying more content with him in it but they were actively stepping on his livelihood. Handing his pictures down to Sadako, Jason exhaled. Looks like they were going to have to start packing- *CRASH* The doors were flung wide open and a body came sailing through the parted doors. His mask flew off and skidded across the floor before stopping at Jason’s feet. Although Jason couldn’t recognize the very clearly human face underneath, covered in bruises and cuts, he remembered the mask and jumpsuit. This was the guy that Freddy and him had seen skulking around the neighborhood. ...What was his name again? Rory...No. Larrry….Nah. Ah, it was Ro- “YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAH!” The one who’d left Roy in such a sorry state stepped in with his theme music blaring behind him. With both hands raised to the sky above, the mustachioed figure looked towards the downed killer and dragged his thumb across his neck. “Looks like you just couldn’t cut it against the Champ, chump! Can’t really blame ya! Who can stand up against the one...the only….” The man paused and coughed as a smaller man in a dapper looking suit rushed in beside him with microphone in hand. “MISSSSSSSTEEEEEEER SATAAAAAAAAAAN!!! KHAZAN’S NUMBER ONE CHAMPION HAS JUST DEFEATED THE VILE COPYCAT KILLER, ROOOOOOOOYYYYY BUUUUUUURRRRRNSSSSS! Coming to you live from one of Khazan’s many offices is none other than Jimmy Firecracker, hotshot reporter and the one with the real scoop! Mr. Satan! How would you describe your comeback to the fans out there?” “Heh, well Jimmy, it’s like this. Back before everything went all dark and all the chumps and cowards ran away, they had me fighting big green monsters, little kids, and punks who didn’t deserve to step in the ring with yours truly! Now that I’m back in business, I’m taking on all comers...If they’re not too scared! Bwahahahaha!” (‘He’s loud.’) Sadako signed. (‘He is. He also beat up this guy that kinda looks like me…’) Mother always said imitation was the sincerest form of flattery. This guy was loud and annoying if Jason was being honest. Lucky for him, the officer worker felt the same way. She’d been the one who’d monitored the ‘fight’ that a certain incarnation of the Hulk had with this blowhard. It was less of a battle and more of a pity that people actually wasted their time coming out to see it. “...Jason, do you remember what I said about the higher ups not approving of you fighting?” (‘Yes?’) “...Well, if you just so happened to get rid of this bozo and I happened to lose some money proportionate to what you’d win if this were a official fight...Well, who’s gonna complain?” The worker murmured as she slowly turned around in her chair with a sly smirk. Jason wasn’t the brightest undead monster around. He’d be the first one to admit it too. But he’d gotten the message hook line and sinker. Defeating this guy was going to be the first step to getting the money he needed. “My my, Mr. Satan would you look at that!? It’s none other than the Crystal Lake killer himself: Jason Voorhees! I believe he’s coming to challenge you! You’ve bested the fake, the world wants to know if you can beat the real deal!” Jimmy exclaimed as Satan brushed off Jason as though he was broccoli he didn’t order. “Heh, Jimmy, if you knew your opponents like I do, then you’d know that guys like big tall and ugly here? They don’t got much going on upstairs if you know what I’m saying. If this guy wants a lesson from the champ, he’ll-” Jason backhanded him across the room destroying a bench in the process. “EEEEEEK!!! M-MR. SATAN, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!” Picking himself up from the pile of wood and metal, he stomped his foot as a comically sized bump appeared atop his head. “Ow...H-Hey! You could have given me a headsup like a r-real warrior! Oh geez that really stung…” Beating up Roy hadn’t been anything too crazy. It was just some nut with a knife that’s all. But this guy here smelled like roadkill that’d been dumped in the ocean and he hit like a ton of bricks. Normally, this is where he’d have feigned a stomach cramp or some other ailment. But with Jimmy’s lackey filming the proceedings, he just didn’t have that option! He’d go down as a coward if he backed down now! Oh man…. He’d just have to bite the bullet! “Hahahaha, you think that hurt?? Why don’t you come over here, ugly, and give me your best shot! If you think you’re ready for me!” ((So, there you have it! Hope it wasn’t too long of a read! Tried to flesh out this version of Jason’s motivations a bit and give Hercule/Satan the comedic flair we know and love him for. It’s not a fight to the death despite what a character like Jason might have you think. It’s to K.O. or submission/surrender. Also I left little * around some of my posts to help frame some of the references I sprinkled throughout!)) *Freddy attacking Jason through his dreams in FVJ *Freddy using the Necronomicon to boost Jason’s intelligence in FVJVSAsh. *Roy Burns AKA The Copycat Killer from Friday Part 5. *Scissormen was the antagonist from the Clocktower series of horror games!
  12. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBKnxif6fKE ~~Cairo, Egypt, 1988~~ It'd been over a hundred years he was trapped in that miserable coffin. Forced to toil in darkness as the world continued to move on and grow around him. He'd achieved his desire which was to obtain the body of his adoptive brother-Jonathan Joestar-and take it for his own. But what did it matter if he was trapped beneath the waves? Unable to ever spread his influence across the globe. Dio Brando would be little more than a footnote in history. A madman who took his delusions of grandeur to the extreme and threatened to destroy the entire Joestar bloodline. Just for showing him kindness. When the coffin he'd been trapped in was finally extracted from the ocean's depths, he wasted no more time. Society had changed from the days of 1890s England and he'd have to catch up with it to truly make this world and it's people his own. Branding himself as just 'DIO', the vampire set out to make his stake. With charisma practically oozing off his every word, he developed something of a following. Men, women, even members of the animal kingdom would gladly lay down their lives for him without so much as a second thought. He was poised to dominate! it'd been his destiny from the very beginning! So, how had it all gone wrong? He'd crushed the foolish humans who'd crossed the globe in a feeble attempt to stop him. Four were dead as far as he knew and only two remained. That...damned...JOTARO!!!! His stand, [THE WORLD] allowed him to become the ruler of time itself. When he ordered it, time itself would freeze to a halt. Only he could move in the space of frozen time. It was only fitting after all, who could deny a god his rightful place? At least that'd been the case until he'd met Jotaro Kujo, an uppity delinquent who at 17 years old was the heir to that damned Joestar bloodline. He'd managed to do the unthinkable during his life and death struggle with DIO. Through careful concentration and practice, his stand [Star Platinum] had entered DIO's world of frozen time. He'd left him, DIO, frozen and unable to move like a newborn calf spotted by a wolf. His legs had been broken like twigs underfoot with one swift kick to his knees and he was completely at Jotaro's mercy. It just didn't make any sense. He was DIO, he wasn't going to be defeated by a mere child! It just wasn't going to happen!!! Spraying some blood from his wounds into Jotaro's eyes, DIO had [THE WORLD] lash out with a final kick, intending to kill Jotaro here and now. "I win! DIE!!!" Leg met fist and as DIO was on the verge of gloating, he noticed something happening...something unspeakably terrible. Jotaro's punch had shattered [THE WORLD]'s leg and any damage between humanoid stands transferred back to their users and the crack spread from the leg and continued upwards causing blood to spurt from DIO's body as though he'd become a walking geyser. He could hardly speak, his words a gurgled mess. But even as he felt the strength fading from his stolen body, he glared daggers at the teenager who'd left him in such a state. Why was this meant to be his fate? It was as he saind his death throes... "THIS....THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!!! I AM DIO!!! I...AM....DIOOOOOOOO-" Then it all went black and as far as Jotaro knew? DIO's grudge against the Joestar line was finally over. ....But soon a new one would surface.... ~~~ Was ....This death...? Had he been plunged into Hell itself? The darkness felt familar. It was as though he was stuck in that infernal coffin again. ....Would it be like this for eternity? Thoughts like this and more circled over and over again through the vampire's head. But just as some small part of him was beginning to grow scared at the seeming realization that apparently he'd be somewhat aware of his fate, the darkness gave way to a bright cityscape. The sky was dark just as it'd been in Cairo but DIO knew this wasn't it. More importantly, he was....alive?! Looking down at his body which was still that of Jonathan Joestar's from the neck down, DIO stared in awe. Had he been able to save himself due to some unknown ability of [THE WORLD] or was fate simply looking down upon him that night? As he mulled over theories and ideas, in the end, he supposed it didn't matter. The perceived end result had been the same. "Hehe...Hehehe...HAHAHAHAHA!! If only I had the pleasure of seeing your dismayed look, Jotaro! YOU FOOL! It seems I was destined to have the last laugh after all!! Fate has looked upon DIO and protected me!" Thrilled as he was at the apparent fact that he wasn't dead, DIO still didn't have the faintest idea of where he was at. Stepping to the exit of the alleyway he'd 'woken up' in, DIO glanced from side to side. "...Hmph. There is no problem that I can't surmount. I'll need to get my bearings and..." He balled his hand up into a fist. "...Feed.' Unknown to DIO at the time, another figure was stalking the same stomping grounds. His moniker? Accelerator. His role? Academy City's strongest esper. Or at least that's what people think he wanted. As he walked along the quiet streets of the city at night, he paused as he heard a distinct noise coming from one of the alleyways. It sounded...wet and vicseral. Was at least worth a look he supposed. Turning his head over his shoulder, his eyes met the blood red gaze of the man who believed himself a god among his peers. If the man seemed at all disturbed or taken aback by Accelerator noticing him, he didn't let it show at all on his face. No, instead he seemed pleased if nothing else. "Ah..." His right hand was wrapped securely around the neck of a poor civilian that he'd caught, his fingertips inserted deep into the flesh of her neck as they drained the blood from her body. "Boy. Perhaps you'll be willing to indulge my asking a few questions...Questions this one..." *squelch* DIO ripped his fingers free and the body crumpled to the ground in a bloody mess. Licking the crimson liquid from his fingers like a chief testing his meal, he smiled. "Refused to answer..." Accelerator had seen the kinds of freak this city churned out. Just one after another. Still, some guy in a fruity getup drinking blood through his fingers? it felt pretty out there even for him. But that wasn't what made him laugh. It was the request this guy made. First it was a slight snicker and then fullblown laughter. "Pfft...Hahahaha! Seriously?? You kill some weakling and...what? You think I'll just bend the knee and answer whatever you want? Be your personal tour guide? Yeah, sorry not sorry, that's not gonna happen. Freak." This whole time Accelerator seemed nonplussed, his hands calmly tucked away in the pockets of his pants. DIO didn't seem amused by the blatant disrespect. Flinging the remaining blood off his fingertips, he exhaled. It seemed a dose of blood was just what he'd needed. "Disobedience is a virtue granted to those who have the power to defend themselves...Tell me, boy." DIO began to stride towards him. "Can you?" Opening up his jacket, DIO reached for the hilts of three of his knives and flung them. Force the mouthy child to reveal his stand. Then and only then would he unleash [THE WORLD] to- *thunk* The knives sailed past him, one smashing into a nearby window. "What?!" "...Yeeep, that had absolutely zero chance of hitting me. But you seemed so optimistic I didn't wanna crush your hopes. Guess I did so, huh?"Accelerator took a step forward. "Dunno who you are, don't really think it matters either. If you're gonna run around town killing anybody who catches your eye..." The boy's face twisted into a wicked grin. "Then maybe I'll put you out of your misery right here and now, huh?!" DIO said nothing but he was somewhat puzzled. The knives had been deflected and yet he hadn't seen a stand manifest at all. What the hell happened??? As the esper continued to slowly approach, DIO grit his teeth. "[THE WORLD]!!" From Accelerator's POV, the guy was gone from one spot and had popped up on the other end of the sidewalk. Teleportation....? No. 'If whatever this boy used to reflect my knives isn't a stand...then I should be able to get in close with [THE WORLD] and end this by stopping time. 9 seconds will be more than enough." ((Sorry if this setup isn't the best! Haven't written anything like this since I was 13! Going back to it as a 23 year old is...odd to say the least lol. For the purposes of this match, I figured that Accelerator wouldn't be able to see [THE WORLD] but he'd basically see DIO popping up in different spots(i.e DIO jumping/walking while time's frozen) and DIO's goal here is to try and force Accelerator to submit while Accelerator is going in for the kill. Let me know what you guys think! : ) )
  13. https://www.mangauk.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/Joseph-Joestar.gif Hi everybody!
  14. Not really sure if this is all THAT bad, but I remember one issue of Spiderman back in the early 2000s or so where Peter was really pissed off about something and was exploring the sewers and he came across Scorpion who at that point had been trying to turn over a new leaf and even told Peter so but Peter just went to town on him and it's implied after the beatdown that it destroyed what little sanity Mac had left. Way to help him try to change for the better, Pete! Though they would have turned Mac into a badguy again anyway, like they did with Sandman.

How to support MagneticFerret

Follow us on Twitch and Support us on Patreon!

  • Create New...