Authors Note: I dont have quite as much love for this chapter as I did the last chapter, but I still like it. Good luck.
Freddy, who usually considered himself a very patient man, was getting very, very agitated. He strode alongside Nancy silently, listening to her blabber on to thin air, all the while ignoring him. He couldn't understand why she was here, or more importantly what the fuck she was on.
"Yeah? Well, at least I'm visible, you jack ass."
She turned her head to the side, glaring at a boiler. Freddy scowled. He killed her. He killed her. He should've gotten her soul, like all the others. He snarled. But he didn't, because he got killed, and now she was here, in his world, saving his piggy's from mutilation.
It wasn't fair.
"What do you mean, I'm dripping everywhere?" Nancy exclaimed, threading her hand into her hair and looking down. The heat from the furnaces had caused her blood to drip heavily onto the concrete surface. "Hell." She cursed, mainly to herself. She looked back up.
"Where'd you— Hey!" she screamed, because she suddenly had quite a few very sharp claws at her neck, and she was being pushed into a very hot metal surface.
"I'm only gonna say this once, bitch. Go back to where ever the fuck it is you came from, cause you're not stayin here." He growled at her, glaring and baring his teeth.
She narrowed her eyes and pushed him. "I can't go back, you jackass! You killed me!"
He tightened his blades. "Then go to heaven or something, bitch!" She pushed him again, grabbing at his clawed hand.
"I tried that! I got put here!" She began to thrash, looking around for Figment, then noticing that the voices in her head were playing up again, each trying to say something different. They were tumbling like a roller coaster, like waves, roaring and crashing, and it was so loud she let go of Freddy and put her hands to her temples, closing her eyes.
"Shut up, shut up!" She ripped away from him, and stumbled towards her part of the boiler room. She tugged at her hair as the voices rippled through her mind.
Kill him, baby girl, do what—
Yeah, babe, you gotta—
Wait, Nancy, don't—
Nancy, Nancy, NANCY, its—
WAIT, I'M—
"SHUT UP, PLEASE!" She howled, stumbling to her knees. She crawled into a cool, dim crevice, curling up her knees to her body. Where the hell was figment when she needed him?
Freddy watched as she stumbled away, wondering what the fuck just happened.
Of all the broads that he killed, it had to be her that came back to haunt him. The nutso with the daddy issues, who set him on fire, then had the gall to ignore him for years with that fucking Hypnocil shit, who became a physiatrist of all things, and he didn't think there was one thing he hated more than those bastards.
He turned and walked back to his work bench. Let the bitch have her little breakdown. He couldn't fuck with her mind anyway, not right now. Can't enter the dreams of the dead. He swore, one more minute with her and he'd figure out how to break that rule.
He sat down to his workbench and twitched his blades, humming to himself, lightly.
He sharpened his index claw, grinning at the deadly point, and tapped his foot.
"Hmmhmm," he growled, his voice raspy, "Wonder what's on TV."
"You and I gotta talk." She said, swinging her legs on what she considered to be her catwalk. She looked up at figment, who was sitting down slowly beside her, looking as if he'd washed and hung out to dry. She blinked at him, her heavy eyelashes rising up like theater curtains.
"Why am I here?" She asked, and she could hear the answer before he spoke.
"I can't tell you. You've need to figure it out, Nancy." She frowned, and let a tear fall.
"No blubbering." He growled, twitching a claw.
She looked up, surprised. "Hey," she said, remembering all the times Glen had said that to her, when they were kids, playing games in the yard. She'd fall, or get hit, and scrape her knee, and when she'd start to cry he'd just look at her and say, "Stop blubbering." And she'd listen, too, cause he was a boy and they knew about being tough, or at least she thought that at the time.
She was tough too, she found out.
She smiled, thinking. She took what she'd learned and put it away, closing her eyes. That was important, she thought, but…
"I still don't understand." Her voice was much more under control now, and her thoughts were her own. Her mind was cool and dark, and though she felt empty, it was much better than being too full.
She wasn't quite sure how long she sat there, but after a long while she stood and stretched, looking around, frowning. She tapped her toes, and crawled onto the bar of the catwalk, balancing for a moment and looking down. She sighed, pulled up her shirt and inspected her wounds, noticing her skin had taken on a decidedly bluish tent, and she was bleeding darker than before.
"I look like a hamburger."
She sighed again. There were so many things she could do right now, but the only interesting one was the one she really, really didn't want to do. Really.
She hummed to herself for a moment, and then began to sing a very off-key version of Thriller. She pretended not to notice that her feet were leading her to the hottest part of the boiler room.
See? Sad Nancy makes me sad. Alas, she had to have her little spaz attack sometime, and sooner is better than later. Fair warning, I'm going to be very, very busy soon, moving into Governers School for a month, and though I will do my damndest to write this, I cant gaurentee daily updates. If the lack of crack displeases you, you are welcome to write a dark humor fic of your own. I'll read it with the upmost fangirly pleasure, and send you cyber cookies and shirtless men.
I'm not sending you shirtless Freddy, though. The faces on his chest wont be the only ones that are horrified. Blegh. *shudders*
Review, please! Make my day! (Also, should I do some fanart of Zombie!Nancy and Freddy? I've thought of it, but can't decide. Drop me a review!)
