Note: This might look a bit familiar. In that, I did this story already. Let me explain,

I had put up a Nightmare on Elm Street fic back in the beginning of 2014, yet let's just say some events happened to where everything in my life got flipped upside down thanks to some people I probably shouldn't have ever come into contact to. So, after all this time, I thought that maybe it'd be good to get back into doing this thing again. It'd certainly be one of my shorter fics, given that it has to sort of follow the franchise formula to an extent (that said, I'll be putting in some other things, such as research into Lucid Dreaming, various aspects of dreaming, as well as stages of sleep, etc.). And even more, it's something I kinda had figured out from the beginning, but this time, I've had time to go over what I had and tuned it up a bit better. That said, here's the prologue to start us off, introducing us to one of the main characters.

Another new thing I'm trying out with this, seeing as it is based in the 80s, I kind of assigned 'actors' of sorts to the characters as I based their appearances off of them.

Here's hoping you like it!


Prologue: Perchance to Dream

NoES and other related properties belong to NewLine/Warner Bros.

August 14th, 1983

"I'm proud of you."

She didn't say much more after that, mainly due to the fact that her dark brown eyes were still needed to focus on the road. But finally, they were on the right track.

Incidentally, it was her fault, she having mistaken 'Springfield' for 'Springwood', yet the issue wasn't helped in any way by the fact that the two sounded nearly identical. Even more, ironically enough, not unlike the younger man stationed in the car with her, the very location of Springwood was a fragment of her life she had been actively trying to either suppress or outright refuse to acknowledge. The fact she hadn't been in the area, hell, even the state of Ohio itself was more than just a little bit of a contributing factor as well, her most 'recent' time there being the late sixties.

'Sixty-eight…' she mused, her nose wrinkling as if detecting something foul. 'Need to change the fuel again.' Since then, she hated the smell. Since then, it had taken her years to even come to mildly tolerate it or anything that bore similarity to it. Even cooking oil was untouched for some time. 'Damn gasoline…makes me nauseous.'

She could've sworn that as they drew closer and closer, then smell only intensified.

But she refused to be deterred. This was something she had to do. Not for her sake, but for his. This was the key for him to truly move on. Maybe the key for both of them…

From the looks of it, however, the casual observer would've probably not thought twice about the pale blue, 1956 Chevrolet making its way through Lancaster, of which bore quite the remarkable resemblance to Springwood, nor the two individuals inside. In fact, if one were to get a good enough look at them, they would've potentially assumed that the two were simply mother and son, or perhaps even nephew and aunt. Maybe even distant cousins, or a friend of the younger man's mother.

Any and all of those assumptions, if they were ever made, couldn't have been further from the truth.

The younger man, while it wasn't out of the realm of possibility from looking at him, he was anything but the woman's son. He was an older Caucasian teen that bore a strong, defined (yet not overly so) chin and faint traces of stubble. His hair was thick, brown, and feathered, reaching down to the nape of his neck. It hadn't become one just yet, but given a little more time to grow and a few inches more, it would've been a full blown, Billy Ray Cyrus looking mullet. Hair length wasn't necessarily something he was overly concerned with, yet he wasn't sure he would've wanted it to be 'that' long. The darker color of his hair contrasted greatly with that of his light, blue eyes, they too also contrasting with his simple, black t-shirt and darkly colored jeans. And while it certainly wasn't his caregiver's intention he have them, he having acquired them before she even came to know him, both of the young man's ears were pierced with stainless steel studs.

Typical attire for a teenager of the time, perhaps, yet given whom was also in the vehicles with him, those that perhaps would've thought the two to be related somehow would've also probably wondered how, let alone why the woman would've allowed him to go out in such a way.

True, the middle-aged woman at the wheel was a far more conservatively dressed than her younger company, blonde, full hair tied in a draping, neat braid and brown eyes allowed better sight with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, yet the truth of it was that, aside from the earrings, the way he dressed didn't matter. Yes, she had a pair of golden hoops in, yet while it was just something of the times, she couldn't deny that some things she felt simply looked more appropriate on a particular gender.

And while she was more conservative in her attire, the middle-aged blonde wasn't above going along with the popular trends that had begun to emerge in the beginning of the decade. While it was somewhat dressy, there was a hint of casualness in that instead of a blouse, she wore a simple chambray shirt of light blue fabric, a pair of beige trousers covering her lower half. Instead of heels, she wore simple, brown flats, her outfit somewhat caught in between proper and everyday wear. The younger man found it somewhat interesting, in that this was how she preferred to be. The blouses, pencil skirts, and heels (not to mention the ridiculous looking shoulder pads) she wore in her profession, all-serious and business-like, was a far cry from who she really was.

Especially given that she too had been bearing a good number of scars relating to that seemingly harmless, perfectly safe town.

And yet, early on in this trip, here she was congratulating him.

'I'm proud of you.'

Proud…pride…indeed, all things considered, he should've been. True, if not for the woman driving the car, bringing him to their destination, he didn't think he would've been able to do it, not on his own at least. He didn't believe he could've done it, and yet here she had said that she was proud of him.

'Proud…' he thought to himself, his blue eyes beginning to flutter. 'I don't know about that, Doc.' He didn't say such aloud, not daring to ever disrespect that woman. Still though, he had his doubts. 'It's more along the lines of acceptance. Accepting the inevitable.'

Though he quickly remembered what they were doing, where they were going, and quickly shoved those things out of his mind. There was no stopping it now, yes, yet it didn't matter anyway. It didn't matter…what had happened, why he had run in the first place, none of it mattered now.

None of it mattered…it couldn't, otherwise all he had been able to do so far would've been for nothing.

A Few Hours Later

7:30 PM

He couldn't continue for much longer.

They had traveled a good distance from the bustling Lancaster and had just passed by Zanesville, any sign of the civilization not being seen for miles. Indeed, it seemed that this would be their surroundings for another hour or so: untamed, lush greenery stationed by a single-lane road, the trees seeming to stretch out their branches to cover, dare he say, blanket the car in their shadows. The sun was nearly gone, only a sliver of the glowing, fiery star able to be seen over a faraway mountain, and the horizon above was bathed in pleasant, soothing tones and hues of soft yellows and pinks, darkened, thing clouds lazily easing by as the transition from dusk to evening officially began.

He would've thought it to be fitting and nearly perfect, if not for the fact that allowing his eyes to close had been the very thing he was trying to prevent.

The young man needed some sort of distraction, no matter how large or small. Something, anything to focus on, lest he lose the ongoing battle right then and there. He looked up, blue eyes attempting to find something, anything to at the very least momentarily distract him, lest he go back into that cycle again. Lest he fall asleep…

Then, as if answering his pleas, his prayers even, from overhead; he managed to catch a sign. Literally.

'Ohio Welcomes You!'

Now, it wasn't that particular sign, the one he had spotted simply being one listing how much longer it would've taken for them to reach Newark, yet the alert they were inching nearer and nearer to their destination served to further remind the youth of how long it had truly been since he had been in that small, unsuspecting and seemingly picturesque town. Better yet, it reminded him of how long it had been since he had set one foot in the state of Ohio to begin with.

The sign that welcomed those entering the Buckeye State had seemingly reserved itself a permanent spot in the young man's memory, being one of the two prominent 'landmarks' of sorts he linked with his time in Springwood, as well as his rushed and, in retrospect, poorly executed escape.

'Two years.' He mused, resting his arm on the elbow rest, the plush material not helping his drowsiness one bit. 'Two whole years…'

Two whole years since he had actually made his desperate run out of the suburb, that soon evolving into a desperate run out of Ohio altogether, that in turn only successful due to long periods of standing on the side of the road and signaling until someone actually bothered to stop. And by the time he had passed the 'Welcome to Ohio' sign, he came to realize that, to his dismay, his urgency to escape perhaps skewed his judgment. Mainly due to the fact that the entirety of the Simon Kenton Bridge was an obstacle he failed to account for, and while he wasn't terrible, he sure as hell wasn't a good enough swimmer to make it across the Ohio River below.

To think that throughout that entire ordeal, he had been attempting to outright avoid the authorities, yet if not for said authorities spotting him near the bridge; perhaps he wouldn't have been able to even come to know the woman by his side, let alone actually come to the point where he would ever actually be willing to go to Springwood ever again.

It was funny, to a degree, that with as much time as it took for him to even call it his 'home', it certainly didn't take long for him to already begin to miss it. Seat of Manson County, they called it, yet it could've been anywhere outside of where he had come from, and it still would've been difficult to familiarize himself with it, let alone leave it all behind. The history didn't matter to him, let alone the location. He could've ended up anywhere and he would've been content.

Just as long as it was away from where he had come from.

Yet all of that was left behind too, all thanks to her. That sort of desire to flee, desire to run like some scared, terrified little prey from some unseen predator wasn't a part of him anymore. The good Doctor next to him had seen to that.

What he had come from was all behind him now, yet he didn't want to fall asleep. Not yet…

"You're tired, Robert." The driver's smooth voice told him, the statement obvious, yet the gentle, dare he say, motherly tone that emanated throughout it was nearly enough to make him forsake his battle to keep conscious. "And it's still going to be quite a bit before we get there."

"How…" Robert paused, nearly about to release a yawn, yet he kept his mouth shut, his face in turn scrunching up and his eyes growing moist. "How much longer, Doc?"

"Around another hour or so." The older woman answered. "And you stayed up all night packing, so a bit of shut-eye would probably be just what you need."

"That's not exactly 'quite a bit'." The young man in her care answered, he still putting up a fight, yet both knew that it was one he'd eventually lose.

But he couldn't sleep. Not yet. Not until he saw the sign. Then and only then, would he be certain.

Not until he saw the…

Few Moments Later

The sound of his light snore made Lucille Quinn sigh in relief. Finally, at long last, he was asleep. While she had hoped that he would've perhaps drifted off while she was turning out of Columbus during her mixing up of Springfield and Springwood, though given with how many hours the young man stayed up during the night, even after all this time, perhaps this was just what he needed.

Speaking of which, it steadily becoming more obvious as the blonde, middle-aged woman was forced to release a long, drawn out yawn, perhaps that was just what she needed as well. But for now, she'd simply stick with taking sips of the caffeine riddled Dr. Pepper stationed in the cup holder next to her.

'We don't have to, you know.' The therapist bit her lip hard, her chest beginning to ache. 'There are plenty of places here we can go.' Granted, the fact the real estate was near ideal was more than a contributing factor, as well as the fact that she had already been considering making such a step for some time. She had good enough connections there, Evelyn outright telling her that as soon as she could, she'd put in her application and have her transferred on over. 'I don't want to pressure you into doing something you don't want to do, Robby.'

She made that clear, she was sure of it. Yet even with his insistence that his decision was his own, Lucille couldn't help but wonder whether or not those few factors contributed to his agreement in their moving. Perhaps that was why she had actually found herself panged with a sense of guilt at the prospect of how the change would actually be beneficial for herself as well. Beneficial, yes, though in ways that had nothing to do with real estate or a secure job holding.

'Two years…' she thought. 'It's been two years for you…' her intention wasn't to minimize his pain relating to the small town. Far from it. In fact, there was probably no one else present in his life that could've perhaps related more to his situation at that moment. 'You're braver than me in that.' She silently admitted, her flat pressing down on the gas pedal, propelling the Chevrolet ever more forward, as if challenging the tightening dread that began to develop in her gut. 'I meant it, when I said that I'm proud of you. You're willing to go back after just two years. Just two…with me, I didn't even think of it, and it's been around fifteen.'

Few Moments Later

Robby silently cursed himself for allowing himself to slip up, allowing the Doctor's smooth voice continue to speak to him, lull him into his still, serene unconsciousness, he only beginning to realize his error when he found himself steadily coming to.

Still, he blamed himself, for it was his own fault that he had let his guard down. Blaming her would never cross his mind, not ever. If it weren't for Dr. Quinn and all she had done, then frankly, he'd probably be little more than some bum hiding underneath the very bridge he was detained at. Yes, her line of work had (despite his insistence she wasn't) been the main factor in him agreeing to make the move, yet the young man would've been lying if he said the prospect of it came as a surprise.

No, Robby had known this, outright counting on it. Hell, the moment he had outright decided to dump whatever was stuffed in his backpack and take off with the few pairs of clothes and necessities he remembered to take in his adrenaline fueled dash out of that place, out of that damned town. Eventually, whether he wanted it or not, and he truly didn't, somehow, in some way, he'd be heading back to Springwood.

Yet…so what?

Indeed, so what if the teen would eventually be sent back to that town? Yes, what had happened there was confirmed, he should know as he more than remembered their bodies. And yes, he also remembered well whose bodies he found that forced him to escape while he could.

'Yeah. Escape like a coward. Leaving everyone else to deal with…'

No, he wouldn't do it. He outright REFUSED. Even if what had caused him to flee beforehand was more than real enough, that didn't mean 'he' was real. No, Robby, he and Dr. Quinn, they went over this. He was real, technically, but he wasn't…

Wait…was that? No. No, it couldn't be. No, no, no!

"NO!"

Few Moments Later

If it wasn't for the fact that there were no other vehicles driving alongside them, Quinn was certain that she would've headed right into either another car or one of the several trees surrounding her. Or more ironically, right into the sign that was welcoming them to the very town they had been seeking.

Luckily, being that there was no one else around, the blonde woman was able to react in a far more lenient time frame, straightening herself up and positioning the Chevrolet in its proper place on the road.

And while he had been the cause of the very near loss of control, the young man's sudden, completely unexpected reaction also drew more than its fair share of concern from the good doctor.

"Robby? Robby!" Lucille questioned, one hand gripping onto his shoulder and shaking lightly. If he was simply reacting to a bad dream he was having…well, frankly, in any other scenario, which would've just been nothing more than a run down of the usual procedure in dealing with these things. That said, of all times for such a thing to occur, right now and especially in this location, was far from ideal for the older teen's recovery. "Robby!"

He wished to answer, he truly did, yet what his eyes managed to capture had sent him into a state where the only thing coming out of his mouth were the quickly paced huffs of oxygen leaving his throat, the cycle of fast-paced inhaling and exhaling seemingly the only two actions his body was allowing at the moment.

Despite seeing this, Lucille couldn't help herself. "What's wrong?" she asked, though her answer came a good while afterward.

Finally able to collect himself, despite his shame and embarrassment at such a display, Robby forced himself to speak. "Y-Yeah. Sorry about that."

The middle-aged woman shook her head. "No, no, it's fine." She then gestured to their surroundings, it still being the same, quiet road as before. "See? It's fine."

He wouldn't have exactly called nearly swerving off into a ditch or into some tree fine, though, as much as the thought disgusted him, maybe that outcome would've been a saving grace for both of them. Then again, it'd probably only be delaying the inevitable.

"Bad dream again?" Robby then realized his guardian was talking to him again, he in turn nodding in response. God, it was nothing short of a complete embarrassment, being reduced to little more than some jumpy, frightened little child.

And while he had nodded 'yes', it didn't take long for him to begin retracting said action. "Well," he began. "It wasn't just…" and he was already failing at better explaining himself. Wonderful.

"Wasn't just what?"

How the hell was he going to explain this? He had begun to come out of sleep when they reached it, when he had seen it, yet was he just dreaming then? It was a possibility, yet he was pretty certain that he at least 'felt' awake. Not to mention, they were outside of the town's borders, so…it couldn't have been what he thought.

No, of course not. He…he was just mistaken was all. That was all, nothing more.

Still, even with that, he could see that the older woman was awaiting an answer. How she was so good at being able to extract things from him still managed to both surprise and somewhat frustrate the older teen. "I guess…I guess it's just that, it's still sort of sinking in for me." It wasn't as if Robby was lying. Being somewhat evasive, yes, but he wasn't being dishonest. Besides, acknowledging it, what he had 'thought' he had seen, would just end up making it worse.

It wasn't as if it was real…as if 'he' was real. No, he wasn't real…nor was he still here.

Thankfully for him, the blonde woman seemed to accept this answer, if not mainly for the fact that she could more than empathize. "I am proud of you, Robby." She assured him. "Really, I mean that. I know I probably wouldn't be able to make a transition like this in so short a time."

The young man found her statement both somewhat encouraging, yet also a bit odd. The former, to a degree, in the sense that this move to Springwood was something he hadn't in his wildest dreams (even if the act of dreaming was now tainted in his mind) considered, and the fact he was here, doing it right now, brought forth some sense of accomplishment for him. He was actually going through with this; he was decreasing the fear's hold over him.

The latter, however, confused him to a degree. If not for the fact that his guardian, a licensed psychologist, was admitting to him that she couldn't probably go through with something like this on her own. Granted, it wasn't as if Robby thought of Dr. Quinn any less (God forbid) because of it, she being one of the few he could openly share what he had experienced with her. And while she wasn't entirely receptive of all of it, as it did sound crazy (and perhaps, he thought, it was), she was more than understanding of the reason he wished to avoid this place for so long. Still, even with all the conversing and sessions, the coping mechanisms, she hadn't mentioned once about actually conquering his fear outright. Almost as if, she too, perhaps in some way, knew that perhaps who he attributed to his decision to leave was more than just a product of mass hysteria and false identity.

But then again, that was just it: mass hysteria and false identity. He had seen the obituaries and the articles from the newspapers Dr. Quinn had taken with her. There was no feasible way that it could've been 'him' that he had seen. Yes, Robby knew well what he had seen, what he had dreamed, but from what he had come to know of dreams and the mind, even a small amount of stress could conjure up a variety of horrifying images and scenarios.

But he knew better now. He knew how to better control himself, control his mind. How to better prepare and protect himself…just in case.

When he had woken up from his drowsy stupor, he perhaps did see a collection of gnarled, gangly branches loom over the sign that depicted a mother, son, and daughter that welcomed all coming that way to Springwood, yet those branches were just that: branches. They didn't look anything like a thin, boney hand with elongated, sharpened claws sliding across the sign's edges.

And they certainly didn't appear to be lightly dipping in the breeze, waving, welcoming the two of them back.


It couldn't have been helped, and their shared sentiments towards the area were more than understandable. And if one were both willing and courageous enough to try and pry further, they would've perhaps found the very act of even coming, let alone moving here of all things to be the purest example of a miracle. Yet to those outside of the Chevrolet, or better yet, even outside of the general town area, this small, seemingly quaint town appeared to be, on the surface at least, a rather unfitting source for Robert and Lucille's current anxieties. And even more so, though Robert perhaps would've preferred that it stay that way, it would also be unlikely that anything aside from plastered on, obligatory smiles and the cries of 'Hello!' would be thrown their way for a small period of time. At the very least until everything was set in place.

Springwood Ohio was a town that, despite it clearly being marked and labeled on any given map of the state, was quite easy to miss if one didn't know what to look for, and even that needed a keen eye. This wasn't to say that there was nothing that could be distinguished, as the town in itself had a small number of landmarks of its own, yet if one were to want to search for it, it seemed that very few major highways lead to it, and even more, the few that came close only went as far as that. That paths to Springwood seemed to almost perfectly reflect the state of the area itself: isolated and almost impossible to reach.

Somewhat odd, yes, yet one would also have to consider that around the country, there were several other, even smaller towns with populations that were just a couple hundred or so above being considered villages, the peculiarity regarding Springwood's location and many detours it took to get there had been somewhat diminished. And unlike some of those other locations, at least for the most part, it had promised what it had advertised on the sign welcoming newcomers in its vicinity.

With a population of around fifteen to sixteen thousand (at the moment, being around fifteen-thousand and two-hundred six-five), Springwood was a modestly sized and well-kept town with a moderately successful economy that, as the sign promised and what many of its residents could agree, was a 'great place to live'. And frankly, for the bevy of families or childless couples that had either wished to move somewhere quiet and peaceful with a low crime rate and close accessibility to food, entertainment, or even both at once, Springwood seemed to provide that in spades. Reliable (and local) grocery stores, several eateries and restaurants (particularly a diner by the name of Crave Inn), all of which held both long histories and standings in the town provided for the former, whilst the latter had a good selection of its own as well. True, there wasn't an extremely abundant amount, yet Springwood seemed to have just enough to provide both entertainment and extra-curricular activities to both have its younger residents less inclined to look into other more lewd, harmful options to pass time, as well as their working parents more opportunities to have them out of the house without the cost of worrying over what they were doing and/or who they could've been with. Not to say that such things were impossible, as it seemed to be an accepted fact of life that such things couldn't be eradicated from any community, no matter how upright and pristine it was, yet so far, no one had been brazen or foolish enough to try and sneak something like weed in the Pool Center or the High School.

Indeed, from the initial perspective of a passerby or one who had decided to wish to be added to the collective population, Springwood did seem to live up to its declaration quite well. Though, if one were to question either Lucille or Robert on such a thing, their answer would rather declare the luxuries available as simple distractions from some of the town's less desirable qualities.

For all of its more beloved establishments, a good ways off to the side and almost impossible to miss thanks to the colossal tower that housed the community's equally less desirable members, stood what could've been argued as the one of the two black spots on what would've otherwise been a completely spotless record for excellence. Despite its name and claim that it was put in place to assist the mentally unwell and even more, hopefully aid them in achieving the lives they held before being committed, Westin Hills Clinic and Asylum wasn't exactly known for having a plethora of success stories. If anything, and Robert himself held such sentiments as well, that even a momentary commitment to the supposed place instituted for the healing of the mind almost always guaranteed that aside from the small streams that came through the window's panes, one would never be able to see the sun outside of the building's walls again. In fact, albeit in more recent years, talk of the patients being sent there increasing and the age range gradually getting younger and younger had come to be one of the most widespread and popular of rumors spread throughout the town, particularly amongst gossiping high-schoolers.

And whilst any and all adult authority stated that such things being said about the place, such as how it once housed one-hundred maniacs in the clinic's tower, or how supposedly a young nun was unfortunately raped and sodomized by each and every one of them in the forties and later committed suicide upon giving birth to her 'bastard child', were nothing more than just overly graphic ghost stories, there were those that weren't so sure. And those that actually knew the truth, both what had indeed transpired there and what was currently going on behind the clinic's walls were either never believed or had their words silenced.

The second 'spot', and nowadays, the even more scandalous and taboo topic of those delving into Springwood's secrets was that of the horrific string of child murders that transpired in the mid to late sixties. This was a story that both Robert and Dr. Quinn were more than aware of, this particular subject being quite the prolific topic in the young man's reasoning to his previous escape from the small town in the first place. Yet the good doctor had assisted him much in this, allowing him to see that his paranoia relating to this place was, while not irrational and perfectly understandable, ultimately misplaced. Yes, it had taken a good number of months, if not an entire year and a half to convince him of such, yet the psychologist didn't need to solely rely on newspaper clippings and obituaries for that. Sometimes, as it is said, experience is the best teacher. And while she couldn't exactly say that she had helped in any way…she was more than a complacent witness to the act. And since then, it would've been years since she could stand the smell of gasoline without feeling the urge to vomit, even cooking oil sometimes bringing the sensation of bile creeping up her throat.

But she was better now. All of that was fifteen years away, and there was no reason that she should live in fear and dread over a threat that had long since been taken care of. And yes, while Robert's claims of what he had seen were indeed true, the deaths of those he claimed to have seen killed being confirmed, there was no feasible way that the one responsible was who he claimed it to be. True, those select few he mentioned were indeed dead, yet given the reports that were occurring at the time, along with a similar case involving Lt. Thompson's daughter claiming that the same figure had been responsible for the fatal mauling of her close friend, Tina Gray, it didn't take Lucille long to develop a theory or two on why all this was going on.

After all, the poor girl ended up being sent off to a psychiatric clinic outside of town and as of recently, and aside from the Lt.'s wife burning to death, no such reports of grisly murders had come for a good while. If Lucille didn't know any better, it seemed as if it were fate that was drawing both her and her charge back to this little, secluded, nearly picturesque town. As if it were inviting them to be able to not only confront, but also bury all the sick depravity and disgusting acts of cruelty and violence they had seen and start anew. After all, what was there to truly fear? The one true, main blight of the community had been dealt with, and with no other occurrences having happened over the two-year period since the case with the Lt's family, as well as Robert's, perhaps it was truly time for both of them.

Robert had hoped for such as well, No, hope had not been good enough. He had practically begged and prayed for it since their departure had been decided. And thanks to Dr. Quinn, he had been able to mostly get to such a place of calm. Mostly. It was probably simply due to the time spent away from the town, not to mention the sights all around that brought back so much for him, both good and bad, yet still, Robert couldn't shake the nagging doubt that this was an enormous mistake.

Then again, his emotions weren't exactly a reliable source, as for a good while, he believed that despite him trekking his way to Kentucky's border, he would still be killed in the night the moment he closed his eyes. It was as Dr. Quinn told him, there was nothing to fear but fear itself.

Nothing to fear but fear…itself.

Nothing to fear but fear…himself.


Note: Most of the info I got was from the Nightmare Wiki, so if there are any details wrong, let me know please.

Originally, this was much shorter, and the little briefing on Springwood was going to go into the next chapter, yet upon looking over it again, I found that it fit better here. Besides, given that for Robby and Dr. Quinn, this is supposed to be something of a 'fresh start' (and kind of a little bit of info for newcomers along with callbacks for old), I think it's more fitting that the next chapter begin with that 'start' beginning, in the form of a new school year starting.

As for the actors I based off of, I'm seeing Robert as, ironically enough, Rob Lowe, more specifically, his appearance in St. Elmo's Fire. And Dr. Lucille Quinn off of Faye Dunaway, as it seemed like every one of the 80s movies (big name ones at least) had one veteran actor/actress in them. And while I don't want to declare this thing as any sort of masterpiece yet, hopefully in that, if this WAS a movie, it'd be at least halfway better than Supergirl.

If you enjoyed this little peek, tune in next time for the introduction of the second main protagonist and her role in this soon to be onslaught of carnage.

Read and Review, please! Thank you!