A/N: It had to be done. It just had to be! Every fandom deserves it's share of blood curdling screams. If you have a problem with language or graphic violence, turn back while you still can. Well? RUN! WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!

Slingshot drifted down the LA city streets, actually under the limits for once. Kurt was on the way to try and bail out his brother Markie from a parts deal he'd just found out was crooked. If Kurt knew what was gonna go down, then, chances were, so did the cops. He would be too late, though; the whole thing was a sting with no way out, and Markie would take a major fall. Even if he could keep his brother out of jail, they'd both just end up in worse trouble anyway; that's what happens when you run with mafiosos. This particular crime family, the Morellos, was known especially for 'taking care' of witnesses. If Kurt tlaked to the cops, they'd both be killed.

He wasn't really there, of course. In all actuality, Kurt Wylde was tucked in his bed in the Teku's wing of the Acceledrome. He was fast asleep in his bed, but he was far from safe.

The dream was always the same; he drove to a run down night club where the deal went down to try and get his brother out before the cops showed, and arrived just in the nick of time to see the flashing lights and Markie getting pushed into a black-and-white, cursing his older brother to hell over the blaring sirens. It always happened that way, so Kurt thought he knew what was coming.

But he was wrong.

The first quirk he noticed was this: the sleazy club's name had changed. Kurt stared up in confusion at the neon sign of the former Big Shotz.

"'Hideosities?'" he murmured. "Huh. That's a new one."

He raised an eyebrow and looked around. Where were the police? Curiosity getting the better of him, Kurt entered Hideosities under caution. The place was a total dive bar, complete with cheesy eighties wood paneling and achy breaky country music, a far cry from the strobe lights and trance techno of Big Shotz. The smoke filled room buzzed with vulgar conversation, and Markie was right at the bar. He laughed right along with the guy next to him and waved Kurt over.

"Hey, bro! What's up?"

"Nothing much," he answered, still unsure of where it was all headed. "Just cruising around, thought I'd stop by."

The man at the bar grinned at them. He wore a beat up old brown fedora and an aged sweater with red and green stripes. "You sure know how to pick your hangouts, kiddo. This place is where it's at. A real balls up joint."

Markie rolled his eyes, waving it off. "That's just Freddy. He's mostly harmless."

"Mostly?"

"Sometimes he kills children," he said nonchalantly, shrugging. This struck Kurt as a very odd thing to say, and he jumped back a second, looking at the two men with apprehension.

"Children, high school students, loose women," Freddy piped in. "And queers. I always have time to kill the queers."

The bartender put down a glass of whiskey in front of Kurt as he nervously laughed off the old man's comments, downing the drink. "Wow, you're a twisted one."

"Look around you, Kurtis, my man! This whole God forsaken place is going to Hell in a hamster ball!"

Kurt nodded, sipping the replacement the bartender had brought him, then paused. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

Kurt's vision panned around the barroom,which was now empty save for Freddy and the Wylde brothers, and for a moment in time it seemed as if there was a spotlight on Kurt and the rest of the room was dark. Freddy faded into the blackness, laughing at the street racer's confusion. Thunder sounded nearby.

Kurt looked to his left, and suddenly a four year old version of Markie was standing there in his Blue Power Rangers pjs, whimpering with wide, fearful eyes and desperately clutching a stuffed bunny rabbit. Tears welled up in his eyes, wetting the shaggy hair hanging in his face.

"Kuwt, I'm scawed of the thunda and wightning! Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Markie?"

The cackling started up again and long arms in red and green stripes reached out of the shadows like rubber bands, one hand in a plain work glove, the other glove embellished with razor sharp metal claws custom fitted to the four fingers. Little Markie screamed as the arms grabbed him and pulled him away. The boy cried out, dropping his bunny, and flung his arms towards his brother.

"Markie!"

"Kuwt!"

He was completely engulfed in darkness and the screaming grew louder, then stopped. Then there was a change of scene, and the inky blackness was replaced by a bloody red glow. Kurt wasn't in a bar anymore, but in the basement of an old house. The old laughter still echoed softly through the air, and in the background he could hear the weeping of a child. He followed the sounds down a dingy corridor to a boiler room, where he found a little girl crying. He knelt down to ask her what was wrong, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Kurt cringed in disgust at the girl's face; her eyes had been clawed out, the sockets still freshly bleeding. She stood up. "It's okay to be afraid," she said. "We were all afraid, but he sets us free. He comes for you in your worst nightmares. It only hurts for a minute, and then you're dead, and after that you live forever in his dreams."

Kurt took a step back. "Who-- who did this to you?!"

The little girl's voice began to warp, and she sounded more like an old man who had smoked all his life than a young girl. "His name is Freddy Krueger, and nothing can stop him. Nothing at all. But it's not so bad. It's okay to be afraid, Kurt; in the end, you'll be one of his children, too."

The girl faded like the ghost of a smile, and Kurt suddenly felt hot breath on the back of his neck. He turned to look and was slapped in the face, but it hurt far more than it should have, and he was thrown into the wall. He shut his eyes tight, gasping, and felt a hand squeeze around his throat. When he opened his eyes, Kurt saw it was the man from the bar, but he got a better look at him this time, now that the old fedora hat wasn't pulled down over his face.

This was the man she was talking about; this was Freddy Krueger. The ugly Christmas sweater was ragged and burnt in places, and his flesh had the appearance that it had been cooked. Obviously, the man had been in a fire at some point. Freddy grinned at him menacingly, and Kurt saw that his teeth were as burnt and disgusting as the rest of him.

"Wh-what do you want with me?" he managed to choke out. Freddy slapped him with the clawed hand this time, leaving four long slashes across Kurt's face. He gasped.

"You're one of the lucky ones, bitch," he rasped at the racer. "I need you to pass along a little message for me..."

He paused, grinning and licking his lips. Kurt shuddered and tears fell from his eyes.

"The surf rat doesn't wanna play with me anymore, and unless you wanna be my new boy toy, you better tell him--"

Freddy tossed him like a ragdoll and Kurt slammed into a wall and stayed there, suspended three feet above the ground and pinned against the wall. Screaming in agony, Kurt squirmed and thrashed as Freddy's claws ripped down his back. Colors ran together and Kurt drifted between fantasy and reality for a moment, someone calling his name in the distance, and then Kurt heard the little girl's voice again.

Nolo sat up straight in his bed; what was that noise? Pulling on his sweat pants, the Teku's leader decided to investigate. He walked out the door of his room at the Acceledrome and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning. Wondering if maybe he'd just had a strange dream, Nolo was roused from his thoughts by a very loud scream coming from one of his teammate's rooms.

"KURT?!"

Nolo rushed down the corridor to Kurt's bedroom door, his mind racing right along with him. "Kurt? Are you ok?! KURT!!"

The door opened with an automatic whoosh typical to the doors at the Acceledrome and Nolo flicked on the lights.

"Dios mio..."

Kurt lay on his stomach, sobbing loudly, the back of his t-shirt shredded and slick with blood. Fresh gashes marked his skin and were bleeding freely. Nolo dove for the intercom next to Kurt's bed, slamming his hand down on the big red button.

"Somebody, help me! Kurt's been attacked! He's bleedin' really bad, I don't know if he's gonna make it!"

Nolo touched Kurt's face,and the older boy pulled back, crying out.

"Kurt, it's okay, man. I'm here to help you." The Teku's leader stared at Kurt's injuries for a moment before dissolving into Spanish prayers. "Jesus, Maria y Jose! Dios mio, aiuda me, por favor!"(1)

The door opened again and Karma, Shirako, Vert, Lani and Dr. Tezla rushed in. Karma screamed and ducked back out. Dr. Tezla was momentarily awestruck.

"Good Lord..."

Lani, who had temporarily been pre-med at Hawaii University, immediately sprung into action, putting pressure on the wounds and cleaning up what she could of the blood. "These cuts are shallow; they were meant to maim, not kill," she said, narrowing her eyes. Just then, the Metal Maniacs showed on the scene; Nolo's SOS on the intercom had gone throughout the Acceledrome. Taro and Wylde peaked their heads in just in time to hear Lani spit out the last of her statement:

"He's been tortured."

She took a deep breath and instructed no one in particular to use Kurt's bed sheet like a stretcher and carry him to the infirmary. Taro and Monkey grabbed the Teku, and Wylde stood near the doorway with a disbelieving look on his face. Karma and Shirako were crying while Nolo babbled incoherently in his first language, and Porkchop and Tork merely stared in confusion and horror.

Vert, on the other hand, looked on in a rage filled deja vu. It all seemed hauntingly familiar, and his worse suspicions were soon confirmed. As Monkey and Taro carried him past, Kurt grabbed Vert's hand, looking up in wide eyed terror, and memories of one ghastly night in Ohio flooded back to the bonde.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you."

Vert pulled away from his friend's bloody grip. He shook his head. "No. No, not again. I can't go through this again..." He leaned against the doorframe, muttering to himself with a hand over his forehead, inadvertantly smearing Kurt's blood on his face.

Monkey, Taro, Lani and Dr. Tezla rushed Kurt to the infirmary, and the others stayed behind to contemplate the evening's events. They stood there in near silence for a bit, and then Wylde yelled in frustration and punched the wall.

"What was that about?" he demanded. "Who the hell is Freddy?!"

Vert looked at him coldly. "He's a child murderer. He roamed a suburb in Ohio in the '70s, they called him the Elm Street Slasher. When he got off on a technicality some parents from the neighborhood got together and burned him alive."

Wylde and the rest of the hallway's occupants stared at Vert with a vague feeling that the blonde was insane, perhaps in shock from the grisly sight.

"But he didn't stay dead, and now he comes back for us in our nightmares..."

Shirako spoke up, his voice hoarse from crying. "Vert, you're not making any sense. Even if that were true, how do you know all this?"

"We moved around a lot when I was a kid 'cuz my Dad's in the Army. I don't know who he pissed off to get us transferred to Springwood, but not long after we got there, the murders started up again. Kids started dying in their sleep, and rumors spread around about some dream demon. My mother begged Dad to get us out of there; she was so afraid for all of us, but he wouldn't listen..."

Vert ground his teeth.

"And then he came for her. That bastard Freddy Krueger killed my mother, and then he came for me in my dreams. He didn't kill me, but sometimes I wish he did. It was horrible, and I've got the scars to prove it...

"We finally left Springwood, and things got better for a while, but the nightmares still came back from time to time. Then they stopped all together. I wasn't afraid anymore. I thought he was finally gone this time, and now he's using my friends to get to me."

He faced them, his piercing eyes resolute. "I know you don't believe me. Hell, you probably think I'm fucking bonkers, but I don't care. I know the name of the game and I'm not running from him anymore."

Vert stalked off, but no one followed.

It had been a lucky break and nothing more; before calling for racers for the realms, just as a precaution, Dr. Tezla had stocked up on units of every type of human blood, so they were able to save Kurt. But before they could replenish his veins, they had to stop the leaks.

Monkey stared in wonder at the patch job Lani had done; using a needle and black thread from an ordinary sewing kit, she had stitched up the worst of Kurt's wounds.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

Lani glanced up at him for a moment, then went back to stitching her patient. "About a foot from where you're standing."

He nodded, trying not to think about what was happening around him. He suddenly felt very ill. Still, it was better than being in Kurt's shoes; the oldest member of the Teku had refused anesthetics, claiming if he fell asleep he'd die. The pain must have been unbearable.

Kurt clenched his jaw through the worst of it, struggling to stay awake.

"You're a stronger man than any of us, Teku," Monkey muttered, and he scrambled to find a place to wash the blood off of his hands.

They stayed in the meeting room- Karma, Shirako, Nolo, Porkchop, and Teazla- to await news about Kurt.

Tork, on the other hand, had left the meeting room several minutes earlier, making the excuse that the attacker could still be at large and opting to guard the door. In all truth, though, blood made him queasy. It was embarrassing, really, but he was sick to his stomach, on his knees in the hallway, trying to find a happy place and keep his dinner down.

Tork tried so hard, in fact, that he fell asleep.

It was true that they had argued back on Highway 35, but Kurt wasn't really a bad guy, and Taro wouldn't have wished this on even his worst enemy.

Because the major cuts were all on Kurt's back, he had to lie on his stomach while Lani sewed him up. When she was finally done, she sighed, and told Kurt he was going to be all right.

"According to the readouts, there aren't any internal injuries," Gig reported. "But he has lost a lot of blood."

"Don't worry, we'll fix that right up." And with that, Lani went to a refrigerated section near the back of the infirmary to get a unit of AB Negative. She hooked it up to the IV, and Kurt gave her a weak smile. She smiled back reassuringly. "How you holding up?"

"I'm alright. Don't worry about me, really, I can take it."

Wylde peaked his head in through the door, questioning with his eyes; the younger of the brothers had removed hs shades. "Kurt?" he asked, cautiously. Seeing the stitch marks on Kurt's back, he gasped and rushed in. "Oh God, Kurt, I'm so sorry. I've been so stubborn about forgiving you, and I said terrible things, and I almsot lost you. I'm sorry, God, Kurt, I'm so sorry."

Wylde was on his knees next to the bed, holding onto Kurt's hand and desperately looking into his brother's eyes. Kurt smiled at him. "Markie," he cooed, and held his hand before beginning to drift off.

Wylde panicked. "Kurt? Kurt! No, don't leave me, not yet man, please!"

"Hmm? What?!" Kurt blinked, shaking his head, and winced.

"Kurt...Vert told us about him."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Freddy! Oh, God, Markie, don't let me fall asleep! He'll come for me!"

The elder of the two gripped his brother's hand like a scared child, tears in his eyes. Wylde held his brother's hand in both of his. "Everything's gonna be just fine, Kurt," he said. "I'll be right here."

He hadn't been there to help what few friends he had made. He abandoned them. He ran while they stood and fought. These memories haunted Vert for quite some time, and he guessed no matter what he could never really forget. If he could forget, then Freddy had no power over him. He thought he'd forgotten, but then Freddy came back.

Kurt must have seriously feared something to end up one of Freddy's play things. Freddy Krueger got his power from the fear of his victims, but therein lied his flaw; if he killed off his victims to quickly, then everyone who feared him was dead and he weakened. That was probably why he wanted Vert; he must have been one of the few living people who remembered Freddy, and so Freddy still had power over him. He'd have to face him head on if he ever wanted to be free, for Freddy had free rein in the dream world and you could never really stop dreaming even if you wanted to. The dream world was a reality all its own, and if he had a lot of will power in the dream world, a kid could bring back souvenirs as if it were really real.

Something, or someone.

His friends had figured it out from some old news clippings and stories from kids who didn't believe the legend. They'd been planning to fight Freddy, but then Vert's dad dragged him back to California...

He'd been robbed of his revenge once, but he wouldn't be robbed again. This thought echoing throughout his mind, Vert sat on his bed, eased his head back onto the pillow, and whispered seven little words:

"Now I lay me down to sleep...

Tork wandered through a strange forest realm, a full moon hanging in the sky. His car had broken down, and the others were long gone. The portal was already closed and even the drones had left; they'd all left him there to rot. Contemplating his fate, Tork walked along the shoulder of the track until he heard familiar laughter.

"Who's there?!" he demanded, very upset. Out from the bushes stepped none other than Tone Pasaro, complete with angel wings,a floating halo and bleeding gashes on his wrists. Okay, now Tork was really confused; Tone had died in a car accident, not by suicide! Tork twitched at the sight of the blood.

"Buenos noches, scumbag," the apparition sneered.(2)

"Tone?!"

"Oh, so you remember," he said sarcastically. "And here I thought everyone had forgotten about me. Oh. Wait."

His eyes glowed red and his voice deepened to something Tork only recognized as pure evil.

"Everyone DID forget about me!! That's why I had to leave Springwood to prey on the blonde man-bitch's little friends!"

'Tone' grinned demonically and threw his arms in the air in exasperation, blood gushing from the cuts below his palms. Tork felt sick and turned to run, but Tone was there, the halo raplaced by a brown fedora. He looked down at Tork like a predator and raised his hand, which now had razor blades stemming from the fingertips like claws, to eye level. Tork backed away and started to cry.

"It wasn't my fault," he sobbed. "I didn't mean for that to happen..."

Tone rolled his eyes, and his face morphed into something unbelieveably grotesque, his wife beateer replaced by an ugly christmas sweater and the angel wings out right dissappeared. "Pathetic," he said, and swiped at the cowering Maniac's neck.

Back in the meeting room, Tezla, the Teku- Nolo, Shirako and Karma- and Porkchop still waited not so eagerly for news about Kurt and tried to figure out exactly what had happened. Porkchop, who'd always been superstitious, sort of believed Vert and made lots of coffee for everyone. Nolo thought perhaps the shock of seeing a close friend in such a state as Kurt's had caused him to lose his mind, but all Shirako could do was cry.

Karma, personally, was very annoyed by their conversation; if she wanted to hear these outrageous theories and gruesome deatails, she'd watch CSI. What the hell was going on here, anyway?! Nothing made sense! She guessed this sort of thing never seemed real until it actually happened. But how had the attacker gotten in? Hadn't Tezla taken security measures? Was there a homicidal maniac in there ranks? And if so, was this maniac a Maniac or a Teku?

"He could be in this room right now..."

Her thoughts were interuppted by an extremely loud stream of cuss words in a thick Japanese accent from just outside the door, followed by a high pitched scream. Naturally, the others ran to see what the commotion was, praying that they weren't too late.

Taro was holding Monkey as they both gazed in horror at Tork Maddox's twisted remains. His abdomen was slashed open and his entrails were hanging out, but they'd gone overkill this time: his throat was cut so deep that his head was nearly taken clean off. The hallway was slick with blood. Nolo looked on with mixed feelings, unsure what to think about the grisly death. Immediately, Monkey accused him.

"YOU!!" he bellowed. "You did this! What the FUCK, Pasaro!!"

"ME?!" was all he could manage to scream back.

"Don't play dumb, STINKU! You were the first on the scene at Kurt's attack, and WE ALL KNOW how you felt about TORK!!"

Nolo stepped back from the wicked stares he was recieving. "Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Tork was outside the meeting room the entire time, man! I never left!"

Porkchop, who had been ready to strangle the Latino leader of the Teku, relaxed a bit; he knew it was true. But suddenly, he stood up straight: "Blondie. Where's Vert?"

The others looked around uneasily; none of them knew where he was. He'd been quiet for a moment, but now Shirako broke into a fresh batch of sobs at the thought that someone he thought he knew so well could be a killer. DR. Tezla took charge of the situation.

"Split into groups and search the complex, and stay together. There's safety in numbers. He could be our man. But if you find him," he continued, "don't act too rashly. We don't have any proof. For all we know the drones have infiltrated the Acceledrome. Let's move."

Shirako, Taro and Karma took the Maniac's wing, but not without purpose; Porkchop, Monkey, Nolo and Tezla knew they were more likely to find Vert in the Teku wing of the complex, and those Maniacs were out for revenge. Nolo went with them to make sure they didn't kill Vert right away, so Taro went to protect Karma and Shirako. Tezla communicated for Lani and Wylde to stay put.

The hunt was on.

He was back at his old house in Ohio, 1428 Elm Street. He was terrified, but that was okay. The fear would attract his quarry. Cautiously, Vert crossed the threshold into the old duplex, an aluminum bat appearing in his hand. It was his dream, he kept reminding himself; Freddy couldn't take control if he didn't let him. The blonde walked up the stairs in the front hall to the second floor, creeping towards his room. He thought that was where Freddy would be, but the room was empty. Maybe it was a trick; was Freddy going to sneak up on him? But then Vert heard blood curdling screams coming from his parents' old room.

Of course! Freddy had come for his Mother first! He ran across the hall to the master bedroom, only to find his Mother already dead, but Freddy was nowhere to be found. His father was on his knees, bawling like a little girl, and for a moment Vert forgot he was dreaming. His mother lay dead, and he ran to his father for protection. Major Wheeler took his son in his arms, and smiled evily. "Don't worry, son; Daddy's gonna make it all better."

His father put both hands on the sides of Vert's face and waggled his tongue for an impure kiss, and, snapping back to his senses, Vert smashed him across the mouth with his baseball bat. He backed away, gritting his teeth, and prepared for action. 'Major Wheeler' got up slowly, rubbing his chin, and glared at the boy. His voice deepened.

"Ya should not ought to have done that, kiddo."

"Hey, Freddy. Long time no see."

The man gave a sly grin and dropped the disguise. He laughed. "I shoulda known. I forgot I was dealing with a seasoned veteran!"

"Shut up so we can finish this, Krueger. I wanna get on with my life."

"Your funeral!"

Freddy lunged at Vert, claws at the ready, laughing like a hyena, but Vert held up his bat to defend. All through their battle, he recalled things from his past; discussions on how to stop the monster the children's fear had created.

'He can kill us in our dreams, but we can kill him in our reality,' a girl had told him. 'If you wake up while holding something in the dream world, you can bring it back to the real world with you, and if you bring Freddy back through, he gets a tangible body and loses the superpowers the dream world grants him. He can be killed just like anyone else. You just have to know how.'

Freddy slashed at Vert's arm, getting a surprised yell from the blonde. He cackled, but Vert knocked him a good one for it. The young racer slammed Freddy in the ribs after that and grabbed his wrists, grappling for his life while he tried to wake up.

"I've had enough of your games, Krueger!" he shrieked. "It ends TONIGHT!"

Sure enough, they had found him in his bed. Monkey glared at the sleeping Teku, muttering to himself, but there wasn't any blood except for four slashes on Vert's arm, right through his jacket, still bleeding.

"Well," Nolo said, "Wake him up."

Porkchop put a hand on the Teku's shoulder, and he immediately began to stir. "Enough games Krueger," he mumbled groggily. "This ends tonight. I won't let you take me. I won't."

Vert thrashed around in his bed, and his mumbling grew to frantic cries. "I won't. I won't, I won't, I WON'T, I WON'T!!"

He lunged out of bed with a primal scream, landing on the floor on top of a man who previously hadn't been there. The man pushed him off, slashing at his chest, but Vert dodged just in time to get off with light scratches. The others stared in shock at the burn scarred man in the ugly sweater, backing off to give them room to fight.

"What the FUCK?!" Monkey screamed.

"He's the one! It's Freddy!!"

Porkchop was the only one there who even believed what was going on, and he yelled, "Whadda we do?"

"SET HIM ON FIRE!!"

Freddy struggled under Vert's weight, and in a desperate move, slashed Nolo's ankle and sent him to the floor. The Latino racer screamed in pain, landing with a thud on top of Vert. The blonde pushed his leader off, but it gave Freddy enough wiggle room to get free. He ran for the door, but Monkey hit him over the head with a large wrench, and began to hit him repeatedly. Vert got up form the floor, clutching the gashes on his arm.

"Welcome to my world, bitch," he said, his voice dripping not with the pleasure of revenge, but with hatred.

Porkchop already had Nolo's arm draped across his shoulders, supporting the injured Teku on his way to the infirmary, as Monkey savagely beat the Master of Dreams to avenge his fallen leader. Tezla watched, not sure what to think of the situation, and Vert got out a pack of matches. The nightmare was over.

At least for now.

A/N: (1): "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! My God, help me, please!" (2): "Good evening, scumbag."

I know it's long, but it was totally woth the month it took to write. Someone had to die sooner or later, and it's not like it's for good! Pleasant screams, people!