Disclaimers, ratings, name, etc can be found on previous page.
Author's Notes: Wanted to thank all those who've reviewed! That would be (drum roll please): villainbabe, Fat Caiman, Invader GIR, pmad, Lena (Airelle Vilka), CarryTheZero, Gothic Blonde(India), George Smillie, Impatient mental patient, & (boy was I flattered) A Nightmare On Water Street!!!!
Now to answers some questions and/or comments from some reviews!
Pmad - Am I bringing any of the characters of the previous nightmare movies ie Alice or maybe Maggie/Katherine in? Well, let me just say this, in the words of Samara, EVERYONE will suffer…mwhahah!
Impatient mental patient and all other Sadako fans - I will make some references to Sadako's origins according to the Japanese Ring films but not much, basically because I'm too scared to tread on it and piss someone off and also I have my own ideas for where this baby is going. Things are a lot more tied here than one would think and while I imagine some readers won't like it, I'm doing what I think sounds cool. Hopefully there's an off chance it won't suck too badly and people'll enjoy my creativity (yeah right, livingdeadgirl snorts and smacks her forehead). Since the American version a.k.a. Samara has less written to her and is more of an open book I can play with, I'm going for that.
And now more warnings…
WARNING: MENTIONS OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/GORE
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR FREDDY VS. JASON
WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE
EXTREME WARNING: MENTIONS OF PEDOPHILIA
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Chapter 2
Seeing the graying eye, Krueger knew the girl had gone back to her dead form. And what a dead form. He could almost feel his blades itching with the need to scratch at her. That pale skin, that tiny stature…she was young, so very young…but she lacked innocence. Oh yes, that deciding factor that made his children so irresistible to him.
It was the innocence he craved, the sweet little soul. She didn't have that any more, if she ever had, and perhaps that was the one thing that kept him at bay, that kept him from torturing her.
That and the fact he needed her. Her earlier thoughts, the ones that he had heard so clearly, had been correct, he knew not to attack her because it would be as foolish as it was pointless.
He couldn't give into his normal temptation to violence towards little girls where she was concerned. He needed her. Desperately. He knew the Dream Demons were growing restless with him…too many failures, too many fuck-ups. He couldn't afford any more.
If he kept pissing them off who knew where he'd be? Probably left to rot in the darkness of hell. They wouldn't help him anymore, wouldn't heal him and give him a handhold back up. Shit, they were hardly giving that to him now as it was - it was half the reason he had had to go to Jason in the first place. His 'bosses' as it were, were displeased and he had the feeling that if it kept up they might revoke his immortality.
The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in the darkness forever. To be kept from his children.
He spoke in a gritty tone, "I've been in that head of yours, I enjoyed my visit…even though all I got was this lousy T-shirt."
She didn't respond.
God, just like Jason. Another one of those silent types.
He shook his head, "Hey, not all my stuff is golden but give a guy a break."
Still nothing, he scowled, "Fine. No appreciation for good humor."
He continued undaunted, "You use your death to your advantage, you're pissed about it like I am, you're not some scared-of-what-caused-your-demise piece of shit like that pussy Jason."
For a moment Freddy was overcome by the memory of Jason, his congealed blood boiling. It took a moment before he was able to continue, "In fact, you and I have quite a bit in common. You draw people into dreams and make it effect them on the outside, like how you burned that Rachel bitch, you make nightmares real, something that falls into my arena. But I'm more interested in those videos…"
As if knowing what he was hinting at, Samara finally took up the conversation, "I make them using the powers of my mind. They told me that."
"Who?"
She turned to him and he got the feeling that the face she was making under her hair suggested he was stupid for asking, "The ones that give me the visions, the images in my head. I see them all the time. Any time anyone gets close to me, they see them too. That's why Mommy went crazy, why she killed me, why she had to die. Why they all have to die."
Krueger looked at her a moment, then his face split into a grin that showed his rotten teeth as he waved one razor in her direction, "I like the way you think, kid."
There were once again no words from her and he chuckled, the sound resembling glass being crushed under a boot, "Which gets to why I need you. We're going to make a movie. And you're going to be the star."
Samara turned to him and he once again felt as if he could see her face beneath the hair, see the look of curiosity. It was oddly satisfying to know he could cause her to have any kind of emotional reaction whatsoever.
Because while Samara looked like a child, sounded like one, even acted like one at times…she couldn't necessarily be considered one. And it was not just because she was one of the undead now either.
She was, in essence, a being entirely vacant of any expression. Feelings, emotions…she seemed to be entirely devoid of them. There was the anger of course, but even that seemed temperate, there was no remorse, no sadness, no conscious, nothing really.
While Freddy killed for pleasure and souls, Samara killed because she felt it was necessary. Krueger was primarily interested only in his children; Samara wanted everyone, anyone, to her it did not matter. The whole world - every living thing on it - had to die. Had to suffer.
Being as she was, in some ways, made her the perfect cold, killing machine and Freddy couldn't help but be attracted to it. That was why he had chosen her to be a child of his very own - and, as an added bonus, she was going to help him get back out there - back to his children, back to killing.
He shook his head, forcing his thoughts to stop wandering and snapped his fingers. The dreamscape around them changed, turning into someone's front yard. Samara's head actually moved from side to side as she looked at the landscape change.
The grass beneath her feet felt more than real and the house towering behind her seemed much more than a mere image. She could almost imagine going up the steps and going inside. There were four gold numbers tacked to the top of the portico roof above the front door. 1428.
Where had she seen those numbers before?
Ahh, yes, 1428 Elm Street, Krueger's favorite haunt. What was his obsession with this house and the women inside it anyway?
Still, his actions had impressed her, enough to actually motivate her to speak, her voice yet again containing that undertone of static, "You can do magic. Show me."
"I just did show you," he snorted, rather irritated.
In turn, she too was irritated by his short response, "Teach me then."
He shook his head; "A good magician never reveals his secrets."
Her hair parted enough to show both eyes now and the glare he received was enough to make him hold up his hands in something of mock surrender, "All right, tell you what, you do a good enough job and I'll teach you a little."
This seemed to appease her as Freddy put both of his hands on his knees and knelt down to Samara's height again, "I need you to pull that trick you did back at the well, when you looked alive, can you do that?"
The last words had not even left his mouth when in a flash she had transformed. He blinked and shook his head again; "You've got to stop doing that! Every time you pull the faster-than-lightning shit it hurts my eyes."
"Then gouge them out," she said softly.
He chuckled, "Like I said, like the way you think…"
He looked at Samara as she stood before him, the perfect picture of fake innocence. She wore her normal white dress but her hair had been pulled into two ponytails, her pale face slightly rosy cheeked, tiny pink lips pulled back in a timid smile to show a neat row of pearly whites. Anyone would have been fooled; she put up quite a show.
The only factor that gave anything away was her eyes. They were bottomless, a dark black…and in their depths what one saw…
Freddy, naturally, was unaffected, but if anyone else looked into those eyes - even if it was a mere glance - they would have been beyond frightened. Because in those depths was something far worse than death.
But since Freddy was unaffected, all he saw was positively the most delicious thing he had seen in what seemed like an eternity. Here was a girl not of his own design, not of his dreamscape. An undead little princess of destruction and mayhem all her own.
And the way her hair was pulled back into those ponytails, red ribbons…
Katherine.
For a moment it gave him pause, the resemblance almost uncanny. True, Samara was much paler but in all other aspects she did indeed bring to mind the daughter he'd lost. The disappointment he'd faced.
He had tried to remedy his loss of Katherine. He vaguely recalled trying to use Alice's brat Jacob and then later, even trying to reclaim Katherine again. But no, both of those children had failed him. Was he making the same mistake with Samara?
No.
She was different, it was as he had thought earlier, she was not a creature of his own creation nor of anyone else's. She did not come from the enemy. She was all her own and she would be his if everything went his way. After all, she was, in some ways, all ready broken in. She had all ready killed, all ready had powers and used them…
She wasn't like those simpering fucks he'd messed around with before. Katherine, Jacob…they hadn't had backbone, conviction…they had been bogged down by morals, humanity, conscious - he wouldn't face that problem with this child.
But he did face another problem. He wanted to hurt her. So badly he wanted to cause her pain and more than that even, he wanted to…
He licked his lips and tried to ignore the old sensations that stirred up inside his body. It had felt like centuries since he had had that kind of stimulation curl up inside him. Being murdered and dead sort of killed your sex drive.
But when he had this little girl before him, dressed up like one of his children and so at his razortips…
Suddenly his head exploded with sounds, a fizzing sort of noise that resembled the static from a television set. He turned and saw Samara looking at him, eyes narrowed. Oh yeah, he grinned, back to work.
With a wave of his hand Samara flew up into the air. She did not struggle. In fact, she seemed quite compliant as twisted limbs emerged from the side of the house, wrapping around her wrists. Soon she was strung up, hanging from the thin columns that supported 1428 Elm Street's portico above its front door.
Her head was bowed but raised slowly, her face impassive as he looked her over. His masterpiece, he practically trembled with anticipation at the sight of her there - this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
He couldn't afford pissing her off and losing her, especially when he was this close to getting what he wanted. But it was going to be very fucking hard, basically it was impossible to try to control himself. Especially when she was like this, trussed up, easy prey.
Ah, what the hell, he'd never been one to restrain himself before…he might let go just a little. Maybe she wouldn't even notice.
He flexed his fingers, listening gleefully as the razors swished out, "Lights, camera, action!"