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In all the years he’d spent being surrounded by death and slaughter, Freddy hadn’t expected this to be a breaking point. He stood beside the ragged bed, his face changing into a revolting shade of green as he took in the scene before him. Blood. Spilled guts. Even bodily waste. None of that had succeeded in stunning his nose and lungs with such capacity. What he’d found here in the preschool’s basement was nothing short of pure decay; a rot everyone in their deathbed experienced in preparation for death’s embrace.
Fred laid motionless in his little cot. His dim, almost lifeless eyes staring intensely into the gray ceiling above. There were no new wounds or blemishes, only blood slowly seeping out from every visible orifice on his body, decorating everything in its wake in a morbid crimson. His chest rose and fell softly, but the breathing itself dragged with a labored gurgle thanks to his blood-filled throat. Had it not been for the foulness emanating from him, Freddy would’ve found the sight rather unremarkable. It was just some blood slipping out, he’d seen far gorier scenes than this! But his nose vehemently disagreed with his stance. The familiar scent of iron was definitely there, now supercharged with a repugnant vigor that forced the burnt killer into a hectic coughing fit. The demonic killer’s face squirmed and strained, his fried exterior turning redder with each violent retch twisting his insides. The coughing attack went on for long enough that he could even feel his eyes begin to water; the first set of tears he’d cried since forever.
With shaky legs, Freddy stumbled away from the bed in hopes of giving his olfactory system a fighting chance at survival. Even with dreamworld assistance it took an agonizingly slow minute for the rotting stench to be filtered out, but soon Freddy felt like he could breathe again. A rather strange feeling since the killer had ‘lived’ without air for decades now.
From what we can tell… A trio of echoing voices hummed inside the killer’s head as he finally regained his composure. Your little rival has foolishly consumed a bad seed.
“And what the hell is that?” Freddy felt his eyes narrow, his voice all throaty from being reminded how choking felt like. The burnt demon let his gaze return to the original point of interest, his eyes slimming into slits as he awaited a reply from his wormy employers.
A bad seed is a particularly sinful soul that’s ill-advised to consume-- The dream demons began to explain inside their host’s mind, only for Freddy to immediately take issue with the statement.
“But I’ve eaten plenty of tainted souls and never gone to shit like this!” The Springwood Slasher argued harshly, his arms stretched out from each side waving about in accordance with his tone. He ceased his flailing once he heard faint chuckling rumble through his brain.
Why yes you have, Krueger…! The agreeable tone made Freddy turn even more puzzled. But you’ve never eaten a truly wretched soul – a soul just like you and your other self.
Freddy felt his brows knit together in bewilderment. The information was squeezed and stretched inside his mind like it was toy slime, but he struggled to comprehend the words. A soul just like his own? Had his blasted copycat killed and consumed another impostor? A small flame flared up in Freddy’s chest over having potentially missed such an event, but the voices within quickly assured that it’d been more likely another lesser human who didn’t share their name.
Pure human souls are a rare feast, but bad seeds are almost just as unusual. Not every soul is capable of hosting the likes of us. That’s why we chose you...
Freddy felt his head nod slightly, his eyes lighting up as the puzzle pieces were coming together which soon produced a wavy laugh. His small rival had always been a poor hunter when it came to deducing prey quality. Freddy was well aware of his other self’s picky nature and it was always laughable when he rejected a perfectly tasty soul because they didn’t look ‘familiar’ enough. The burnt killer soon inched his way back to his counterpart’s side, almost sneaking forwards as if the threat of decay could pounce on him at any moment. His caution soon eased when his filtration proved its endurance and left his nose free from the putrid stench, but his body still tried to uphold a distance.
With the context fresh in his mind, the scene before him almost looked comical – such a macabre scene just because of food poisoning!
“Silly little copycat…” Freddy’s words were interrupted by small snickers as he spoke in a teasing manner. He leaned over his shorter self with a big toothy grin, readying all the quips he could muster. “Are you having a wee tummy ache?”
Invisible crickets played their tune of silence, filling the room with a thick awkwardness as the bleeding landscaper remained unresponsive. Freddy felt his eyes look sideways periodically until he straightened himself again, his lips flattening into a thin line.
“So…um... What now?” Freddy let his hands rest on his hips, his decreasing chuckles taking on an almost sheepish tone. “Is he gonna kick the bucket for real or is he just gonna lie here and stink all day? It might scare off potential visitors...”
A tiny choir of laughs played among the slasher’s thoughts. Oh, he won’t die, but he’ll likely remain this until all of the excessive sin have been purged from his body...
“And how long will that take?”
We reckon about a week…
Freddy’s face inexplicably dipped over the report, soon developing into a bewildered snarl. “What? He’s gonna be a sack o’ bones for a whole week?”
Likely longer… Perhaps a month... A week is our lowest estimate…
A long groan dragged itself out from the burnt killer’s throat, his head sluggishly dangling backwards with only the invisible forces of the dreamworld holding his hat in place. His other self was already the more corpse-like one, but now he had to behave like one as well? Freddy felt his hands shake, closing into fists and then opening again on repeat. A strange tangle was forming in his stomach, twisting his innards and causing small trains of twinges to travel across his body. Craning his neck back to normal he looked down on his counterpart again. Despite the gardener’s eyes looking practically ready to fall out from their sockets, they were unable to meet Freddy’s gaze and that only helped boiling the killer’s insides further.
You don’t seem too pleased about this, Krueger… The trio’s voices echoed with curiosity. And here we thought you’d enjoy having your loathsome copy out of commission...
A quiet hiss slipped past Freddy’s lips. The words spoke truth, and yet his jaw was clenching so hard that he could practically hear his teeth crackle from the pressure. Seeing his copycat in such a sorry state should’ve made his dead heart flutter like it’d done a few moments ago, but that joy had quickly evaporated once the implication became clear. Still careful around the liquid sin, Freddy used the dreamworld's forces to lightly elevate the other’s upper body into a half sitting-position. Red dewdrops trickled down the gardener’s body as if he were a rain cloud, dousing the bed further as the body moved. The body in question offered no reaction to the shift and merely followed along with the invisible currents, like a puppet following its master’s instructions. Freddy then extended his index claw towards Fred’s still clean chin, placing the tip just underneath the curve and carefully angled the head to face his own firm gaze.
There had been many battles between them since they first met. Anything from major fights to minor scuffles; too many arguments and challenges to count, but almost all confrontations had ended in bodily trauma that their respective powers quickly patched up in a second – amounting the whole ordeal to nothing. All carnage and no proper outcome. No permanent damage.
Oh, what I would give to make that copycat pay for thinking that he could measure up to me! Freddy thought as he watched his quiet counterpart, his mind spinning with ideas of everlasting torture. The burnt killer wanted to see the other’s sorry excuse of a life fade from his eyes after he cut his head off! Flay off the burnt flesh he constantly complained about! Break his mind to the core! Steal his precious children for good measure! The only one who has the right to hurtthe copycatwas the true nightmare himself!
But here he was, being beaten out by some pathetic stomach bug.
Of course, of course, Krueger… No fun feeling inadequate...
Freddy almost failed to notice the voices speaking up, forcing him to calm himself down momentarily. Having had enough of the staring, Freddy stomped back from Fred, his right hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose while his throat let out an extended groan. He could feel his ego pop and shrivel up with each passing second. His hands ached to massacre the one responsible, but the culprit was way out of reach and attacking its meat shield would yield no reaction. Any attack would amount to him attacking a wall and leave him with his pride still wounded.
Think, think, think! Freddy's left index finger pressed its pad repeatedly against the top of his cheekbone. He had to do something to fix this!
We can advice you give him some assistance with his healing--
“I’m not playing nurse with him!” Freddy immediately interrupted, yelling into the air, not caring if his other self could hear him or not.
It won’t be too demanding… The trio calmly clarified, their tones blatantly highlighting their amusement. Just give him a bath and wash the sin away… That should speed up his recovery considerably….
“A-A bath?” Freddy’s voice came out unusually soft as he slowly spoke the words. With his face frozen in open-mouth confusion, the offered solution kept repeating in his mind as if he was tasting each syllable with imaginary taste buds. The words didn’t taste sour on his tongue, they perhaps even possessed a dash of intrigue, one that required him to dig through the back of his brain after a part of himself he’d left to rot a long time ago.
A simple, warm bath… That could be fun, no...?
Freddy left the small bedroom and returned to the basement’s main area. It was a wide space full of tall shelves and random boxes – a rather messy ensemble in spite of his little rival’s usually tidy habits. His thoughts was brewing with various options, with only one more ingredient missing from the equation. Following the walls, the Springwood Slasher let his hands stroke along the vertical surfaces, both eyes and tips seeking out and break in the smooth wall’s structure. Once he made a half round across the room he finally discovered an old wooden door, carefully prying it open to find just what he was looking for.
The bathroom turned out to be pretty big for such a dingy cellar, with enough space to also house cleaning supplies and laundry machines. There was even plenty of space to hang up wet clothes, but that wasn't important right now. Instead, Freddy approached the bathtub situated on the opposite end of the room, pulling away the shower curtain and felt himself nod approvingly. The depth of the tub looked good and the racks on the wall above it was stocked with various bottles, all full of intent of washing someone’s sins away. Turning the faucet went smoothly, making water rush out from the tap and into the tub. Watching the water slowly rise and feeling the steam hit his face was almost surreal to the burnt killer. Here he was, preparing a bath for his annoying copycat like a parent would do for their sick child. An uncertain frown spread across Freddy’s face, confusion still stinging at random crannies of his body. It felt wrong to preform such a gracious deed; when was the last time he’d done something like this? When was the last time he had a real bath of his own? An immortal's life had the benefit of shedding one’s need for proper hygiene, after all. The burnt killer let his thoughts swirl along with the rippling water until the liquid reached near the top rim of the tub. Then he turned off the faucet and the bath was ready.
All it needed was its participant.
Freddy remained glued to his spot, feeling the steam heating up the room. This was not for the copycat’s benefit, Freddy quietly reminded himself, letting the words repeat until they degraded into static. This was purely to clean up after his lesser version so a proper punishment could be delivered down the line.
Yeah… That’s the reason.
With everything somewhat in order, Freddy hurried back to his sickly counterpart who’d still not moved muscle. The burnt slasher began levitating the gardener’s limp body off of the bed with the help of his dream powers, the smaller male’s limbs dangling in the air as if they were boneless. Fred’s body was slowly brought out from the bedroom and towards the bathroom, marking the trek with a trail of red spots. Freddy walked backwards the whole way and directed his rival’s body like an aircraft marshal, shooting his arms into the air and pointing even though the dreamworld was pulling the full weight. By the time they reached their destination, Freddy entered the bathroom with a noticeable grin spread across his lips, with even a few chuckles slipping past his teeth.
“Here we are, lazybones!” Freddy announced merrily as he placed his counterpart on a small, wooden stool beside the tub, letting his upper torso lean against the decorative panel. The taller male rubbed his hands together and knelt in front of his counterpart, his grin growing wider as he had the other in his mercy. The unresponsiveness was a severe loss, but seeing him so vulnerable was still rather enticing to the burnt killer.
“Well, well… Those clothes gotta go!” Freddy couldn’t help but tease up as he let the dreamworld’s forces carefully pull each article of clothing off of the gardener’s limp figure, starting with the glove and shoes, then sweater and pants and finally the hat and underwear. All the articles were then neatly placed inside the hamper near the washing machine – all except the glove which got placed on top of the washer. With the newfound exposure, the burnt killer was finally able to see his little rival for the first time in his full glory.
The gardener’s thin body proved to be less burnt overall than his own, with the exception of his face thanks to the major loss of flesh on his cheeks.Clear, visible contours of ribs and hints of his hip bones hid underneath his sallow skin, emphasizing the decimated state he’d died in. In addition, the killer could now survey the extent of the bleeding; every little burn was an opening for the dark sin to seep out of and stain whatever surface it touched. The only spot Freddy failed to notice at a glance was the little private region conveniently shielded by the gardener’s thin thighs...
Freddy stared at the nude, perfectly displayed body before him, waiting for the laughs to burst through his throat or for a good quip to spawn. Even the will to spread the other’s legs apart to satisfy old curiosities had been expected, but alas, his body remained still. His burnt hands opened and closed with a shudder, as if they tried to grasp something out of reach. Had this been anyone else Freddy knew he would’ve jumped at the chance to utterly violate them, expose their worst fears and reduce into a pile of their own anxieties. The burnt killer was certain his counterpart had plenty of tasty insecurities given his terrible confidence issues; such delicious woes for him to chew and savor if he took the plunge – the opportunity was right there...!
Meddlesome clouds quickly came forth once the thought-train derailed. Freddy felt his tongue swabbing across his singed lips and his salivating glands kicking into high gear, making his belly tingle excitedly. Then, as if on command, the burnt slasher’s delectable came to a screeching halt once the repugnant reality escaped from the back of his memory bank like a vengeful ghost refusing to give up its favorite haunt. Shaking the thoughts away, Freddy’s expression shifted into a queasy snarl as the memory caused him to retch again. The dream killer liked to think of himself as a man capable of stomaching even the most unconventional of thrills, but even he had to admit that such a repulsive stink was making things less than appetizing... Not even banning his nose from acknowledging it helped in recovering his usual predator instincts.
Aw… A mere bath is causing you such distress…?
“SHUT UP!” Freddy immediately howled back at the unkind voices in his head, his body shuddering from the fury surging through his veins. He knew he’d stalled this simple task for long enough. This was no herculean task - just get this stupid bath over with! The copycat was all knocked out so there was nothing to wring out of him right now, anyway.
Very well... We'll be leaving you to it, Krueger...
Standing up on his feet again, Freddy levitated the limp body off the stool and almost indiscreetly tossed it into the tub, only holding himself back last second once the epiphany regarding the consequent splash reached him. The burnt killer then slowly lowered the gardener into the waters, taking care not to make the water spill over. Once inside, the liquid practically swallowed the ill gardener whole, save for his head. Adjustments were made to Fred’s position in the tub, stretching out his body so he would lie comfortable in his warm waterbed, although it didn't take long before the scene transformed into a bloodbath; the once colorless waters now stained with sin spreading through the liquid like a red, swirly fog. Freddy was able to simply wave the bloodied waters away for an instant replacement, and this time it only discolored into a faint rosy color with various strains of a deeper red rippling through it. In a bizarre way it almost looked beautiful, just missing the classic rose petals. Or maybe some bubbles would be good?
Freddy blinked for a second before shooing those ridiculous thoughts away. “You better show me some appreciation for this, Copycat...” Freddy grunted, his narrowed eyes watching his other self simmer in the scalding waters. The slasher supposed he was waiting for his little rival to perk up, but the only movements he witnessed were the small waves in the water. A similar awkwardness from before started to seep into the room, forcing Freddy to grit his teeth in frustration. Not only had he gone out of his way to prepare this bath, but did he really need to wash the guy, too? Freddy immediately felt his hands come up to rub his temples, which soon evolved into his left hand palming his face. Never before had he felt more stupid than he was now. He couldn’t hear them, but there was no doubt his demons were laughing at him inside his belly, elated that he’d fallen for their little prank – playing him like a fiddle--!
“U-Urgh….”
The weak moan somehow grabbed hold of Freddy's mind and slammed into the wall with a bang. Almost launching himself back on his knees, the burnt killer grabbed the tub’s rim and watched as the sickly gardener at last began to stir, his grunts languid and eyes barely managing to stay open.
“Heeey! Good morning, Copycat!” Freddy was beaming, almost bouncing on his knees at the sight. His previous grievances suddenly gone. Burnt hands almost reached out to grab the other’s face, only to awkwardly pull back once he recalled the sinful blood still dripping down Fred’s skin. Clearing his throat, the burnt slasher desperately tried his best to chain the proper words together in his mind to save the moment.
“So… Is the bath working... for you...?” The words left Freddy’s mouth with a revolting aftertaste of saccharine sweetness, immediately causing his face crumble while his teeth sunk deeply into his tongue. Why the hell did he ask that of all things?
Meanwhile, Fred took no heed to the mental commotion happening beside him; his world was currently a messy blur of colors that easily blended together, leaving him with no idea of where he was or what was going on. All he felt was something soft and wet embrace his body, with warm currents gently brushing against his skin. It felt pleasant...
Almost lulling...
“W-What-ss goin’ ohnn...?” Fred yawned tiredly, his voice thin and slurry, but still capable of directing Freddy’s attention towards him.
“Ah! I see that Sleeping beauty has finally woken up!” The Springwood Slasher tried his best to sound condescending, letting his right arm rest over the tub’s edge as he leaned forwards in an attempt to meet his rival’s woozy gaze with his own sly look. Unfortunately, there was barely one cohesive thought behind Fred’s blank eyes, his tired eyelids threatening to close while his head nodded off every other minute. Freddy felt a growl rumble in his throat.
“Oh no, you don’t!” A wooden bath brush suddenly popped into existence right above Fred’s head at Freddy’s command. Quickly snatching it with his left hand, the slasher began slamming its brush-end against the groggy gardener’s head, each hit forcing the sickly male to bring up his hands to protect his skull while he tried his best to curl up.
“O-oOwch! What’s going o--!?”
“You ain’t dropping dead on me again!” Freddy howled while the brush continued to smack the fatigue away from the gardener. From the pounding skull came a reborn alertness which at last managed to awaken Fred’s sore spirit. Just as he was about to reach out and stop the assault against head, the brush retreated and left him alone. Pulling out from his defensive stance he looked to the side to properly face his gracious caretaker.
“W-What the hell are you doin’!?”
“Just knocking some sense it to you, ungrateful brat,” Freddy pouted with such exaggeration that his lips momentarily transformed into a duck’s beak, his voice even gaining a quack-like undertone just for emphasis. Unfortunately, that point wasn’t what Fred wanted at the moment, causing his eyes to narrow into a furious leer.
“Bullshit. You just came in here and started attackin’ me out of nowhere!”
Freddy couldn’t help but respond with a vile smirk, amused by the other’s apparent unawareness. Tapping the brush against the tub’s edge, he called for the upset gardener’s attention. “Use your eyes, Copycat. The answer you seek is riiight under your bitchy little nose.”
The burnt slasher could tell that Fred was about to retaliate until the last specks of color drain from his face at the sight of the abhorrent waters surrounding him. What previously could’ve passed for a rose-themed spa bath had degraded into a bloody sea once more, the color turning increasingly darker thanks to the sin still leaking from the ill gardener’s orifices. Fred sat mouth agape as he finally realized where he was and tried his damnedest to fathom it all, only for it to go as smoothly as a square peg being pushed into a circular hole. His hands slowly reached towards his torn cheeks and pulled back to see the sinful substance coat his shivering fingers. The more Fred’s body recoiled in shock, the wider Freddy’s smile grew.
“Having some time-of-the-month troubles, eh?” The taunt struck its target with piercing accuracy, causing the shaking gardener to fluster like a leaf being blown away by the wind.
“I-It’s not what it--!”
Fred barely got to finish before his throat forced out a sickly, wet gag, pushing him more towards the center of the tub. Sallow hands quickly flew up to cover his mouth, but they weren’t enough to stop the floodgates from opening. A wide-eyed Freddy witnessed how a flow of gunk seeped between his rival’s fingers, dripping down towards the water below. Contrary to the earlier red sin bleeding through whatever hole it could find, this hurl was pitch-black and its texture looked somewhat clotted. When the gardener freed his mouth, the substance created an inky web connecting his maw and hands.
“Oh, that’s just nasty, Copycat.” Freddy brought his glove up to his lips and began laughing teasingly, enjoying the view of his counterpart’s face drooping as if he’d just endured a major gut punch. Despite his amusement, questions regarding the sudden change in discharge were forming in his mind: was it different from the regular blood-like sin or was this just natural progression in this strange purification process? Even the red tears leaking from his eyes were turning black and sludgy, but the holes in his cheeks still looked red. The Springwood Slasher heard no commentary in his head, but he supposed it was a good sign. All that sludge was supposed to be expelled from him, after all.
“I’m not in the m-mood for your – urgh – commentary...” The gardener sounded utterly strained, his breathing deep and shaky as he tried to stabilize himself with a big gulp. His filthy hands almost meekly hid themselves underneath the watery surface, gently letting the sludgy discharge whither away in the waves while humiliation flushed over him like a cold shower.
“Well excuuuse me, you prissy princess!” The mock concern was about as palpable as a see-through nightgown. Freddy leaned over the tub’s edge, leering at his uncooperative counterpart. “You should be grateful that I even dragged you here,” he hissed accusingly. “I sure ain’t doing this out of the fabled kindness of my heart.”
Fred hastily turned his face away, aiming right for the bottle racks on the wall beside him. “I don’t need you help…”
Freddy’s felt his chest twinge oddly, while a deep exhale ran through his nose like a charged bull. “Humph! Don’t kid yourself. Moments ago you were rotting away in your bed like a corpse! And you would've potentially been like that for a month had I left you there.” His words came out stern and sharp, devoid of any of his usual jeering while his eyes searched for the other’s reluctant ones.
“You owe me an explanation for this shit, you know,” Freddy continued in a more grumbling tone as he wrinkled his nose. His hands ached to grab his little rival and shake him until he saw reason, but all he could do now was to squeeze the tub’s edges in order to keep his hands clean. He might not smell it for now, but who knew if he could hide the stench from the dreamers. “At the very least...”
The gardener remained steadfast in his avoidance, his tone a cold monotone. “None of your business--”
“Everybody’s business is my business!” The dream killer quickly clarified, voice boisterous and keen with a whip-like precision. Leaning over the rim again, Freddy’s index talon inched itself nearer its irksome target, almost poking his other self’s shoulder. He leered at his counterpart, his eyes wishing they could throw daggers. “Especially yours.”
The room became plagued by those invisible crickets again, each imagined jingle clawing at the Springwood Slasher’s patience. One by one, he could feel the threads ripping like a slow, one-way cascade over a set of piano keys. The harsh sigh produced by the second-to-last thread breaking made Freddy pull back again, shaking his head as he flung his arms into the air.
“Fine! Be a difficult little bitch--!”
“They were tryin’ to take what was mine...”
That was all it took to silence the room. Freddy’s words halted with a quick "Huh?" His now wide eyes found themselves staring at his counterpart who’d finally lost interest in the clinker wall and let their gazes meet for just a second - until he turned forwards and let his body sink into the red water until everything below his eyes was submerged in the gunky bath. Freddy’s eyes remained firmly on the gardener, now seeing the whole picture coming together before him, and the sight of it made him wish to tear it apart again for how obnoxiously obvious the answer had been.
Of course his pampered piggies were involved in this.
“What was it this time?” After enough mental kicks to the head, Freddy’s face was scowling hard enough for his temples to begin pounding. He could almost hear his eyes rolling in their sockets before looking down at the submerged gardener. “Did this naughty fellow's eyes linger on your precious little favorite for one second too long?”
“If that’s what you wanna believe.” Fred’s head tilted slightly sideways, allowing one of his eyes to meet the killer’s scornful gaze with his own icy glare. “It’s not like you care either way.”
A snicker began to tickle Freddy’s throat. “Oh, I actually care a great deal about my children!” He retorted with a crooked smile, his sudden tonal shift causing one of gardener’s burnt brows to rise. His reaction only made Freddy’s belly feel extra fluttery for successfully capturing his audience leading up to a good finisher.
“The difference between you and me is that I don’t get invested in them. Helps prevent certain unflattering scenarios – unlike you who seem to revel in them thanks to those spoiled brats of yours!”
Various emotions seemed to flash across the ill demons’s face, but Freddy couldn’t fully decipher them as his only signs were subtle twitches; some from his brows, others by his lips. He could even tell that his jaw strained a few times along with a gulp, perhaps brooding on a comeback that he failed to hatch properly. Just to make an humiliating scene feel worse, Freddy brought forth the brush again and began scrubbing the flustered landscaper's scalp with a toothy grin, even taking the time to drain the stale bathwater and replacing it with another round of fresh water.
Eventually, Freddy noticed that his rival had settled for a rather sunken frown, his face as sullen as the increasingly reddish-gray water he sat in. He watched his counterpart gingerly settle himself into the tub, allowing his arms to float gently in the water as he leaned his back against the same end as the faucet. No attempt was made to shoo the brush away, allowing it to wash away every little drop of sin leaking out from the burns decorating his skull.
“You really don’t have anythin’ better to do than makin’ fun of me, don’t you?” The gardener murmured solemnly, his body deflating into the bathwater again. A strong convulsion rippled through his body again, allowing another batch of dark discharge to form a dark cloud around his head. Freddy couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene, relishing in the other’s apparent defeat.
“How can you blame me?” The scorched slasher smirked widely at his rival, gesturing towards him with his bath brush. “You’re the one who needs a life guard on duty twenty-four-seven.”
A small hint of irritation crept into Fred’s frown, his eyes shying away from his louder counterpart and falling towards the water instead. “Do I even wanna know the implications of that?”
“Oh, I think you do!” The slasher made a great clap with his hands before playfully knocking on Fred’s head with the brush, later pointing towards his submerged body. “Look at you! Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to fall asleep in the bathtub? Because I sure do!”
Fred’s face scrunched up like he’d gotten lemon shoved down his throat, causing a sudden spike in bloody leakage. That only delighted Freddy further.
“Aw, are you drowning? Are you in need of some mouth-to-mouth?” The burnt slasher cooed with an overly sweet tone, puckering his lips like he was talking to a fussy baby. The ill gardener’s scowl looked to deepen, but soon his eyes caught a little mischievous glint.
“I’d rather not. You probably kiss your mom with that mouth--”
Fred welcomed the sudden rise of water, his chuckling causing bubbles to float up and pop by the surface. He could vaguely hear the other's provoked uproar a distance above him. That, and along with the harsh grip clutching his skull, let him know that he was successful in returning the humiliating favor.
“One more smart-ass remark and we’ll be moving this bath over to the toilet!”
Soon Freddy pulled Fred out of the water, only to sadly see his counterpart was still giggling, his face all gleaming with disgusting satisfaction. He even dared to blow a raspberry, and by that point, the burnt killer could only react how he knew best.
“Alright, you little brat!” Freddy let go of the gardener's head and threw the brush aside, opting to summon a bath sponge and a bar of soap from thin air. “If you want a scrub so badly, then so be it!”
With his artillery ready he jumped into the bath and began his cleansing assault on the still amused gardener without a care for the consequences. Dingy waterfalls splashed the bathroom floor as the two burnt demons flailed and tangled inside the tub, accompanied with roaring laughter and cries that were only silenced with periodic gurgling, suggesting that the soap at least managed to reach someone's mouth.