|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Jason Chronicles: Home Again? Book 3: Chapter 5THE CHRONICLES OF JASON DRUMMOND
Book Three: Home Again?
Chapter 5: Questions
"...that is your grandma??” Selina asked.
“Yep.” Jason said, acting fairly casual in spite of the situation.
“That sniper rifle carrying old lady is your grandmother?” Selina asked.
“Uh-huh.” Jason said. “She also taught me how to fight and use different weapons.”
“And me!!” Jamie said, still hugging his grandmother.
“Correct.” Sophia said, now sounding serious as she pulled away from Jamie. “Now Jason, mind telling me why you look like that spiny rat from those games of yours, who this furry girl is-“
“I’m not a furry!!” Selina snapped, turning into her human form with the push of a button on her bracelet.”
“-and why your brother is a robot with weapons?” Sophia Drummond asked, putting away the rifle in its casing and ignoring Selina’s remark.
Boss Profile: James WalkerBoss Profile: James Walker
After being summoned there by a fake message supposedly sent by his bro, Jamie has to fend off a gangster armed with high-tech weaponry in his first solo boss fight.
BOSS NUMBER: 14
CLASS 7 GANGSTER WITH EXOSUIT
FIGHTERS: Jamie Drummond.
ARENA: NEIGHBORHOOD CUL-DE-SAC
CONDITIONS: the battle takes place in the air in a style similar to the Clockwerk boss in Sly Cooper & the Thievius Raccoonus, or most 3-D Super Sonic fights in the Sonic series. Jamie can go in to attack whenever Jason gets James with a chaos Arrow, or when Jamie stuns him.
Arm-Blade: A long, heated metal blade emerges from his right arm which he slashes at Jamie with.
APOLLO laser cannon: James fires out several laser shots.
EXILE Harpoon: A metal spear with barbs shoots out and impales Jamie, shocking him before Jason severs it with a thrown Chaos emerald.
Flying Press: James flies in
GENESIS: SONIC ADVENTURE INTROGENESIS: SONIC ADVENTURE
South America, 67 years ago
Deep in the Amazon jungle, a temple stood, old with time and harboring many secrets, very few of them pleasant. The silence of the area was broken when several trucks drove into the area. Within them were the world’s most advanced scientists and engineers along with a small platoon of soldiers.
“Is all the equipment set up??” a scientist with a cane, spikey blonde hair, and a goatee asked.
“Yes Dr. Weever, you’re good to go.” A soldier wearing a G.U.N. uniform confirmed.
“Excellent!!” an overweight man with no hair, but a large, white mustache proudly said, smiling.
“What do you think is giving off the energy, Professor Kintobor?” Ryan Weever asked.
“I’m not certain…” Gerald Kintobor said. “But hopefully it’s something useful. G.U.N.’s getting impatient.”
“Don’t worry my friend, we
Romantic Sonic One-Shots, Introducton.Lucas sat on his bed, quietly reading some comic books, boredout of his mind. But then he overheard me speaking and decided to respond.
“Mind telling me why you’re here instead of working on the Jason chronicles, Genesis, the Memoirs of a Supervillain, or any of the other projects?” Lucas asked me, looking up from his comic.
Cause I’ve got a job for ya, Lucas.
Immediately, some papers appeared at the foot of his bed, which he began to read.
“Aright, lemme see…..” Lucas said, taking out his glasses to read them. “Oh, this is new… and you want me to be the host for this?”
“......” Lucas grinned. “I accept.”
“Ahem.” Lucas said, clearing his throat. “Now, a lot of the fans in the Sonic community can be real jerks at times, especially when it comes to who should be in love with who. And a lot of the fanfics, while good, can
Jason: book 3: Home Again? Chapter 4THE CHRONICLES OF JASON DRUMMOND
Book Three: Home Again?
Chapter 4: Jamie's Return
Jason laid there, paralyzed with fear as Walker slowly approached him, a cable arcing with electricity trailing along behind him.
“I always knew that I’d be able to take you down…. Granted, I didn’t imagine it would be like this,” James said aiming his short sword at Jason’s throat, “but I’m not complaining. Maybe I’ll take that pelt of yours as a trophy. Or sell it on the internet.”
Before he could blast in Jason’s face though, he was rammed away by a fast moving black blur.
“Ja-Jamie???” Jason coughed out from the smoke, both shocked and relieved to see him.
“Yeah, I got your message Jason!! Don’t worry!!” Jamie called back, punching and kicking James.
“Message?” Selina asked.
“First cartoon animals and now robots!? This is getting pretty screwed up!!!” James
Boss File: Flint FredricksonBoss Profile: Flint Fredrickson While out on a date with Selina hardy, Jason gets ambushed by Flint, who's armed himself with high-tech gauntlets!!
BOSS NUMBER: 13
CLASS 7 GANGSTER WITH ADVANCED WEAPONRY
FIGHTERS: Jason R Drummond (Human form).
ARENA: Dean & Sam's Bar & Grill
CONDITIONS: Every now and then, Flint's gauntlets will overheat, and he'll stop, shaking his hands in pain. Jason needs to use this time to attack him with his guitar. Occasionally he'll hide behind the bar, so Jason will need to wait until he's taking a drink, before shooting the bottle with one of his weapons.
Energized Fighting: Flint runs forward, attacking Jason repeatedly with punches and kicks that do a lot of damage. In extreme mode he has cerated blades emerge from his gauntlets, which do extra damage.
Laser Shots: Flint fires off single laser shots, eventually stopping due to his gauntlets overheating.
It's Always the Quiet Ones Every class has those kids, you know, the ones that looks fragile and weak. They’re ignored throughout the entire year. There’s a reason why no one bugs them.
I am not one of them, I’m those average students on the side line that can socialize like the average human being. I’m not extravagant. I have friends. I do my work. There’s nothing special about me. Although, last year what happened in one of my classes was different.
Edger was one of them, those quiet ones. He didn’t sit at the back of the class like in those cliché stories you read or see in movies. For the first seven months of that school year he was silent. I don’t understand how those kids get away with not answering questions or not going up to the board to write out problems, on presentation days he’d disappear.
On the seventh month of school I’ve started to notice things about Edger. Heck, I wasn’
Creepypasta: With Friends Like TheseCreepypasta: With Friends Like These
You aren’t normally one to suggest stupid outings for the sake of stupid outings, but you and your friends are equal parts bored and stressed about high school starting up again. What better way to de-stress than spending a night in an abandoned house on the edge of town that’s reputedly haunted? Okay, there’s probably many ways that are all better and far less convoluted, but screw logic, you and three of your friends have made the decision and that’s how it’s gonna go down. Errol is the only one who won’t be coming. He said he’d be pretty busy tending to something that came up, although he wished you, Avril, Nathan, and Gary good luck in your ghost hunting.
“You guys ready to get scared?” Gray sniggers as the four of you look upon the desolate structure. You drove your friends out here, seeing as you’re the only one whose parents let you use their car.
The boards over the windows have lon
Creepypasta: The Hangman's OriginCreepypasta: The Hangman’s Origin
The year is 1887 and you are Will Jameson, a photographer for a fairly well-known New York paper. It is a well-paying and fairly secure position. Your current task is to venture into that dying side of America called the Old West, currently on the verge of collapse under the crushing weight of modernization. The rail systems appear to make the country seem smaller every time they are expanded. Fittingly enough, because that’s how you are travelling to the ghost town you are supposed to take pictures of anyhow, via said railway.
Your economy cab is empty, save for one other male passenger and yourself of course. The interior is dimly lit, and the roaring din of the thunderstorm outside doesn’t do much to help visibility. It just makes you all the more thankful for the oil lantern suspended from the ceiling, without which you would trip over your own feet if you got up. Not like the cramped, sparsely appointed cab would give you enough
The Distorted MirrorsPlease note that this is a biography of my encounters with some rather paranormal entities within my second grade year in elementary school. Now, I just want you to know that this all is indeed true, and it's going to be something I never forgot, and can remember vividly. Well, I guess I'll start with how this all started and stuff, and how vivid one's mind and imagination can be.
So, it was the second grade, like I said already, and I was quite the child, but I was cowardly at times, not that it's unusual or anything. Though at the same time, I did have some sense of bravery. It was when it was close to summer, I had exams, though I honestly cannot remember the name; not every detail was with me then, I'm afraid. Instead of being in a normal classroom like normal people, I was just mortified and reluctant to learn that I would be having to spend my week in solitude, and one thing I definitely don't like is solitude, even at that age; at that age, I was horrified of being in small room
I've Got YouHe was falling.
He made no audible sound as he did. Partly because fear had gripped his voice box to the point where he couldn't make a noise and the other half was that he would only get a harsh mouthful of saltwater in response to his cry.
The water was rushing closer to him. Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet. Twenty.
He had tried to twist his body to grip the edge if the cliff face beside him, but the rough-edged rocks just sliced through the thin skin on his fingers and palms, forcing to let himself just plummet down below.
It was crazy, really. The great Altair, master of assassination, was going to die. Not because of the fall he was taking, but because of his lack of being able to swim.
He was most ashamed of himself.
A small grunt came from his clenched teeth as he made contact with the ocean and right on impact, he began to sink. He bucked his legs upward, trying to stop his sinking but they just flailed, not doing anything to help him.
Ever since he was a child, he had alwa
Valley's End Road - II. JedidiahValley’s End was much like any other road that wound through these sparsely populated hills. Paved to a point with a few homesteads scattered off its sides, and then dwindling to rough gravel, narrowing to smooth packed clay, and finally becoming two wheel ruts with dandelion and blue chicory growing tall down the middle. The mountain dwellers on this end of it did not like to be seen or intruded upon. Urban legends ran rampant, fantastic tales of less-than-human abominations living and breeding and killing. Humans find what they don’t understand to be frightening; they must then create something of which to be frightened, justifying their inability to accept whatever it is they choose not to understand.
Blood tied all the inhabitants at the end of the road. The stories and sightings fueled by outsiders kept it a quiet place, which is how they liked it. The country was rough; thousands upon thousands of square acres of hardwood forest, unforgiving inclines and sudden hidden
Creepypasta: A Game I Cannot WinCreepypasta: A Game I Cannot Win
So. It’s come to this. Eighty-one years of age, and before infirmity has a chance to claim my life I am forced to play Russian roulette with these five faceless men. But it’s not so bad. I know how this will end, and that takes the edge off my trepidation. I look up at the stairs leading up to the cellar door, seeing as we are in my basement, seated around a battered card table. I could make a break for it. But I smirk inwardly, because this will offer an escape in its own way.
I pick up the revolver and put the barrel to my head.
Nothing. I smile and pass it to the figure to my right. He makes no move to pick up the revolver, as I suspected. I pass the gun to the figure to his right, who again, makes no attempt to pick up the weapon. This repeats until I have passed the revolver all around the table, and none of the faceless men have moved in the slightest.
I pick up the revolver a second time, and put the barrel to my head again befo
Maverick You are sitting on your bed, bundled in your blankets, music blaring in your headphones. Your gaze lifts from your laptop screen and you look out over the room. It's dark. Pitch black to be more specific. The moon is nowhere in sight tonight, an overlay of storm clouds hang overhead. You sigh, storms are not your thing, the loud noise and sudden bursts of light unnerve you a bit. The music stops. "Dammit" you mutter. The song was no where near over. Your web browser must have become unresponsive or YouTube was experiencing problems once again.
You decide against staying on the internet tonight, none of your friends are on skype, and it's 3:30 in the morning. You gently shut your laptop, not bothering to shut it down completely, and place it near your bed. After placing your computer on the ground, you decide to get situated on your bed so that you can try to get a good night's sleep. As you lay your head down, a flash of
Culmus To describe the night in one word, the only word I’d have chosen would have been wet.
There were small puddles glistening in the streetlight, the air was thick and moist, the sidewalk had that certain darker color after rainfall. The night sky hovered overhead, but it was difficult to see any stars. The city pollution made sure of that. The houses and buildings on the sidewalks had no lights on.
In order to get home, I had to follow a path of orange streetlights. I remember that they were reflecting in the puddles in the wet street pavement. I was walking along the sidewalk. The sidewalks had large trees, bushes and fences nearby, so I was conscious of the irrational fear that somebody would jump out at me.
As it turned out, that wasn’t what I was supposed to be afraid of.
I turned around a street corner, and heard a loud banging noise, like a terrible drummer practicing in his ga
Lucas' Monsters 3FROM THE JOURNAL OF LUCAS REMUS NOBLE
May 9, 1892
SUBJECT: How the Jahlcian Rippers Came to Be
My good friend & colleague Dr. Arthur Kintobor read my entry on the Jahlcian Rippers and asked me to tell him more about their origins, so I obliged and decided to also write their origins into my journal.
Many years ago, the Jahlcian was more or less similar to humanity in terms of basic culture, until a religious movement was founded. The move believed that as everything in the universe was connected, they had to reuse everything, from containers to the dead, but the latter obviously presented a problem.
That was, until a scientist named, and you must understand this is the closest I could get their language translated into English, Lkhgfe proposed his idea of the "Scavenger" machine, a robot that could be employed to do basic labor, yet run on the remains of corpses and scrap metal.
So for a long time the Rippers were basic drones, until the Jahlcian government decided to modi
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."
Keep in Touch!
Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More