Chapter Text
“Nance?"
It took her a moment to respond, her eyes trained on the TV screen but not really watching. They were both a few seconds behind in their reactions as of late. “Yeah?”
“I'm gonna sleep, okay?” Quentin’s voice shook. He had spent his time awake pouring over any information he could find on dreams and all his time asleep running from Freddy and finding those fissures in the illusion. He was so damn close to figuring this out. He couldn’t fail now.
Nancy looked at him with concern but understanding. It had been what, three days since he last slept? It had been Nancy’s turn to sleep last, maybe two days ago. They had been going as long as possible without sleeping since Freddy came back, but tried not to surpass three days. The micronaps were concern enough, even if their tormentor didn’t seem to be trying to kill them like before. It was only a matter of time before Freddy tired of the sick game he was playing and gutted them, Quentin figured.
“Okay,” she replied hesitantly. He knew she was worried about his plan--not enough evidence, too risky, all that--but what was their other choice? Keep staying up until they couldn't bear it and running from Freddy until he killed them? Even if they managed to evade Freddy every single time they fell asleep which was damn unlikely, their bodies wouldn’t be able to stand the abuse they were receiving for much longer. Between the lack of sleep, ridiculous amounts of caffeine, and excessive doses of Zoneral, it was unlikely they’d even make it a week longer.
Quentin met her eyes, so different from the eyes he used to get lost in during class. Her skin was so pale, the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes like bruises. Her hand eclipsed his own, her nails bitten to the base and cuticles ragged. She looked so tired. Quentin knew he didn’t look any better. They were both shells of their former selves, some strange imposters taking the form of the carefree kids they were only a month prior.
He stood from the intentionally uncomfortable chair he had been reading in, looking at the bed like it was a death sentence. It could very well be.
“Wake me up in twenty?”
Nancy nodded, twisting in her own chair to watch as he laid down. She still had that look of concern on her face, knowing that his life was more or less in her hands. Quentin found himself being more afraid when standing vigil while Nancy slept than when he was facing Freddy himself. “Be careful.”
“I will,” he said, settling on his side and taking another look at the only person who could ever understand what he was going through. His hand rested on his crucifix, fiddling with the chain before coming to a rest on the cross and coin. After finding a position his aching body agreed with, he murmured their newly customary, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And with that, he closed his eyes and allowed the exhaustion to overtake him, slipping into unconsciousness.
There was a moment of peaceful nothingness, something he had grown to appreciate. Moments later though, he felt chilly air replace the warmth of his room. His eyes opened to see the all-too-familiar façade of Badham looming before him.
Here we go .
Quentin flexed his hand for a moment, getting a bearing on his surroundings. Everything seemed normal--there were no glaring differences from how the preschool typically looked. The swingset still followed its lazy pattern like a pendulum losing its energy, spurred only by the wind. Everywhere he looked had a phantom of the past, some vague memory he couldn’t quite get a grasp on but knew was there in the depths of his mind.
It didn’t take long for the bastard to show his face, taunting him in his peripheral as usual to give him a head start. Freddy seemed content to let them go through their little routine of cat and mouse, but there was something different about the way he looked at Quentin. Something that made him sure the man was tired of their games and ready to end it. He was prepared, though. There was one thing for sure: one of them was dying tonight, and there was no chance in hell that it was gonna be Quentin.
He took off running after their brief standoff, dexterously opening the door to the preschool as he had so many times before. The interior of the school was the same as usual as well, which was promising. After a moment's deliberation, Quentin turned to his right, continuing down the short hallway that ultimately led to the boiler room. Instead of trapping himself down there, he went into one of the small classrooms along the way. There had to be something here for him to use.
With discerning eyes, he surveyed the decrepit classroom he once spent his days in. Disturbing imagery adorned the chalkboards and walls, sending a shiver down his spine. No time to linger on that, though, the clock was ticking. He saw it then: a can of paint thinner in a pile of random supplies. That was something he could work with. How, though?
Think, God damn it .
Quentin grabbed the can, gauging how much time he had left. Twenty seconds, maybe? Less? Either way, he had to move quick. As far as he knew, there were no lighters around, so he would need Freddy to ignite the thinner. He hated leaving something like this up to chance, but he didn’t have a choice. And really, how could Freddy resist his signature taunt?
With that, Quentin unscrewed the can and set to work, dousing the hall with thinner. He was as careful as could be to not get any on himself, throwing it ahead of him. Had he more time, he would have set something else up--a failsafe. God knows he needed all the guarantee he could get. The air was changing though, and he knew Freddy would be here soon. Throwing the now empty can into the staff room, Quentin prepared to put his plan in motion.
It was only moments later that Kruger’s laughter echoed through the halls. His heavy footsteps followed shortly after, and then he fully entered. Quentin stared at his grotesque face, meeting his eyes from the other end of the hall. He was terrified, his heart beating so hard he could feel it, but he was determined. He had to do this.
For Nancy.
Freddy was reveling in his fear, he could tell. That sickening grin on his face--knowing that Quentin was trapped, scared, alone, and tired, all because of Freddy--was more than enough to clue him in to that.
Playing up his fear wasn’t at all difficult. He was terrified and Kruger knew it. What he didn’t know--at least, Quentin hoped to God he didn’t--was that he had a plan, and Freddy was walking right into it. Quentin backed up against the end of the hall, only stopping once he made contact. As the man raised his bladed hand to scrape along the exposed pipes on the wall, the awful screeching reverberating through the hall, time seemed to slow. The sparks showered down, dropping further and further until…
The hallway was engulfed in flames, a burst of hot air hitting Quentin like a brick wall. Seeing that look on the bastard’s face, a look of shocked realization that his target wasn’t about to go down easily, sent a jolt of pride through his heart. Freddy let out a scream, but it seemed to be more out of rage than anguish as he thrashed around in the flames. Quentin held his cross as he took off once more, running desperately towards where he knew there was an exit as he prayed silently to whoever was listening.
Just as he reached the basement, the fissure almost in reach- the scene changed. They were in the cave. This damned room, filled with recently uncovered memories of hours after school with Freddy while he waited for his dad to get off work. It was suffocatingly hot, and the entrance was sealed shut. Quentin panted heavily as he turned to face the man only a few feet away from him, that stomach-churning smile on his scarred lips.
It was in that moment that Quentin felt more anger and determination than he ever had before. He didn’t care what the hell it took, Kruger was going to die. Whether he made it out as well didn’t matter to him anymore--all he wanted was for Freddy to suffer and never hurt the people he loved again.
Those thoughts consumed him, becoming all he could think about. Even as a thick fog rolled into the room, all that he saw was the memories of everything Freddy had ever done to hurt him and his loved ones. Every perverted touch, every cut, every taunt, every kill--they flashed through his mind and only fueled his determination more. The past month of his life had been a worse hell than he could have ever imagined, all because he told the damn truth and this asshole couldn’t accept that what he did was wrong. Kruger laughed menacingly, scraping the brutal blades on his glove together, and Quentin knew he didn't have much time to make his next move. It was now or never.
Then, silence. Cold.
Quentin opened his eyes, not even knowing they had been closed. He was in the middle of some forest, but not one he recognized. These trees… he wasn’t even sure if he had seen trees like those that surrounded him before.
Where the hell am I?
Freddy must have moved the dream, but why here? What significance did this random forest hold? But, wait--this wasn’t a dream. Not his dream, at least. It felt different in some way. The typical haze that accompanied the dreams under Freddy’s influence was absent, replaced with an uncanny sharpness. It certainly didn’t feel like the real world, but it didn’t feel like a dream either. What was this?
“Stop playing games, Kruger!” Quentin screamed, his voice breaking part way through. He was tired of this shit--tired of being so close to finally ending this just to have it ripped away from him. “This ends now!”
He was met with silence, save for the shrill caw of a nearby crow he hadn’t realized was there. This wasn’t like Freddy; the asshole liked to taunt him, but his style was much less subtle. If Freddy was doing this, he’d be somewhere familiar. But, if this wasn’t Kruger’s doing, whose was it?
Quentin looked around, studying the trees around him. There was some sort of path leading off to his left. He saw something flickering through the heavy greenery, accompanied by some muffled noise as he walked a bit closer. Was that a fire? Voices? Maybe this was Freddy, just some strange detour from his normal M.O. His best bet was to go to what stood out, but he kept his guard up just in case this was another one of Freddy's tricks.
Taking a breath, Quentin followed the light of the fire and soft sound of conversation. The forest wasn’t too difficult to transverse, leading him to believe he was meant to go here. The rough path he followed felt too intentional, even if he stumbled over a rock hidden by the underbrush here and there. The light slowly grew brighter in tandem with the voices becoming louder, though he still couldn’t discern what they were saying. It sounded like a fairly large group--definitely more than a couple of people. If this was Freddy… he didn’t want to think about who those people could be.
Finally, he broke through the treeline and found himself in a clearing with a campfire surrounded by a few logs in the center. The source of those voices was revealed to him as well: a group of ten individuals were sitting around the fire, deep in conversation. They all seemed worse for wear, bloodied and tired. One noticed his presence and looked up to him, a glasses-wearing man who seemed to be in his early twenties and had a nervous look on his face. Whatever he said next seemed to alert the rest of the group to him as they were soon all regarding him with a similar look of pity.
Who are these people?
They couldn’t also be tormented by Freddy, could they? All the kids from his class other than Nancy and himself were already dead, and only a handful of these people seemed old enough to be their parents. But they all had a look of weariness akin to his own, as if they were running from something too. Christ, what had he gotten himself into?
There seemed to be a silent discussion within the group, spoken only through glances and small nods. Once they seemed to come to a decision, an older man wearing what was likely once a nice suit jacket and sunglasses stood up, making his way over to Quentin. Even if these people didn’t seem to have any ill intent, he still flinched away and took a couple of steps back as the man approached. He seemed to understand, coming to a stop a good distance from him before speaking.
“It’s alright, kid. You’re safe with us,” he said, his voice heavily accented in some way he couldn’t quite place. While Quentin was still hesitant to trust anyone here, there was something about this man that he wanted to trust. “We’ve, uh, got something you need to know. You'll wanna sit down for this."
The man pulled down his shades and gestured towards the fire. There was something in his eyes that made Quentin understand: no matter who was behind this, these people needed his help.