Uber Jason - Durability 8

"Stay back!" he yelled.

Prat hesitated. He was supposed to bring this guy up alive. "Fuuuuuuck!" he screamed, and disengaged the lock on the trigger before pulling it.

A line of bright yellow and blue flame shot into the air before him, hitting Jason in the chest. The metallic breastplate he wore heated to red. Jason staggered back a few steps, his huge arms dangling at his sides, one holding a huge knife.

Something in Prat registered that the blade was bloody and Frank's face flashed in his mind for a split second, but he couldn't worry about that now.

The thrower was an older model, one he was familiar with. It was designed to shoot flames for five seconds, and then automatically turn off for ten. You had to pull the trigger for another round. He guessed that this particular model, if it was full of fuel, might have six rounds in it.

Prat was no fool. He backed up toward the doorway to the stairs leading to the top floor. As he did so, Jason started toward him, the breast plate cooling back to its natural color.

Prat pulled the trigger and nothing happened. He waited and then tried again. Another blast of fire shot out from the weapon, hitting Jason at about crotch level. Again, the monster stumbled backwards. All the while, Prat backed up to the stairs.

When the fire died, Prat turned and ran, reaching the bottom step before he figured he'd better turn and blast this sucker again. He pulled the trigger. Again and again. Nothing happened. Or, rather, something did happen, but not what he wanted to happen: Jason was heading toward him at a furious pace and had considerably bridged the gap between them.

Prat did not want to be trapped in the stairwell. He knew he couldn't get up fast enough to escape.

He just needed this damned machine to send another blast out to give him some time.

Finally the damned gun shot out flames, and Prat noticed right off that it was a weaker jet than before. During the five seconds that the flames spurted out, he backed up the steps, and Jason moved forward. Even before the fire died, Prat turned and ran.

He got up about seven steps before he felt himself being caught by his hair and hauled backwards. He yanked so hard that his neck could have broken, and he realized a few seconds later just how unfortunate it was that it had not. He still had the flame thrower in his hand so he frantically pulled the trigger, but there was no fire coming to his rescue.

	Jason X: To the Third Power - Pages 269-271