Freddy vs. Jason 3: Sanitarium
By BloodySimpsonChibi
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the franchise characters that appear in this story. This is simply a work of fanfiction made for entrainment only. All rights go to the proper owners.)
The fluorescent light came to life three whole seconds after Detective Johnson flipped the switch. The dingy light was barely able to illuminate the room, leaving much of the interior concealed in shadows. Directly above the light sat a table with two chairs at either side, one of which was already occupied by a lanky bald man. The man remained motionless as Detective Johnson entered the room, arranged the various papers and folders in his arms into an almost neat stack, and took the remaining seat opposite of him. It was only when the Detective addressed him that he finally looked up from the table, hate burning in his blue eyes.
"Fredrick Charles Krueger. That is your name right?"
The man slowly sat upright, allowing the ancient light above him to reveal his badly burned skin and the rotten yellow teeth in his jaws as he grinned at his captor. "The one and only." He whispered proudly.
"Apparently, you are the same Fredrick Krueger that killed 20 children back in the 70s', am I correct?" Johnson asked.
Freddy simply shrugged. "Maybe it was 20. Maybe it was 100. It's been so long that my memory's a little fuzzy." Freddy's grin grew bigger as he locked eyes with the Detective. "But I do remember their screams vividly."
Johnson glared at the burned man, fighting back the urge to call him a sick bastard. It wouldn't do him any good to do so. This was one of the worst types of criminals, the ones who not only accept what they've done was wrong but wear that wrongness like a twisted badge of honor. Even when being punished, there was never any hope of these monsters regretting what they've done. Johnson had dealt with these types before but this case was unlike any other.
"I have to be honest with you." He admitted as he looked through the papers in his hands. "I don't even know where to begin with this." Johnson pulled out an old newspaper clipping with the headline "Springwood Slasher Gets Off Scot Free!" printed above a grainy photo of a sneering human Freddy. "By all accounts, you should be dead by now or at least too old to engage in any more criminal activity."
Freddy shrugged again. "What can I say? You're only as old as ya feel."
Johnson took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one of them in his mouth before offering the case to Freddy who helped himself to one as well. "And how old would you say you felt when you were fighting those other two serial murderers?"
"Too old for that shit. I'll tell you that much." Freddy moaned as he placed the cigarette in his mouth. "What's the 4K on those two assholes anyway?"
"Let's just say they're back where they belong," Johnson answered as he lit up his cigarette. "For now, I just wanna talk about you." He held up the lighter to Freddy's cigarette and placed it back in his pocket once the butt was lit.
Freddy revealed in the tobacco flavor overcoming his lips, knowing who would most likely not have another for a very long time. Once he was satisfied, he removed the cigarette from his lips and spoke. "Ask away."
"I might as well address the elephant in the room." Johnson began as he placed the papers down on the table. "According to these reports, you claim that you've been in the Dream Realm this entire time?"
"Yep."
"And what exactly is the Dream Realm if I may ask?"
"Well what do you think it is Sherlock? It's right there in the name! The Dream Realm is where human souls go when they go to sleep. It's the place from which all dreams and nightmares come.
"And you say you've been living there for this entire time?"
"Oh I didn't just live there. I was the motherfucking God of that place. I had dominion over everything, including the dreams of the children of Springwood." Freddy took another puff from his cigarette and blew the resulting smoke into Johnson's face, making the Detective cough and sputter. "I'm sure you've heard of that at least."
"Yes! " Johnson confirmed through another cough. "We are well aware of the rumors of a deranged maniac haunting Springwood teens in their dreams and killing them in their sleep." Once he had ceased his coughing, Johnson grabbed a folder from the pile and opened it. It contained all sorts of news reports concerning teens dying in their sleep as well as a few suicide reports that had taken place around the same time. "You have to understand that it's a little hard to swallow. A serial killer hunting victims in their dreams." He removed the cigarette from his own lips and blew a puff of grey smoke at Freddy, causing the burned criminal to erupt in a coughing fit. "The press sure loved that angle. That's for sure." He said with a sly smile.
"Yeah! I can imagine." Freddy hissed, recovering from the smoke much faster than Johnson did. "But I suppose I won't be getting a press conference anytime soon huh?"
Johnson shook his head. "If we're able to really confirm that these sleep-related deaths are all your doing, the only place you're going is the chair." Johnson threw his cigarette down and stomped on it with a loud thud. "I just hope I get to pull the lever myself."
Freddy broke into laughter which startled the Detective. "Good luck trying to convince the Higher-ups of that!" He suddenly sucked his cigarette into his mouth, moved his tongue from inside, and lolled it out, the now twisted-up stick resting on the vallate papillae. Freddy gripped the stick between two fingers and flicked it to the side. "They'll never believe you and you'll have no choice but to turn me loose."
Johnson felt another urge swell up inside him, this time an urge to pull out his gun and empty every single round he had into the monster before him. As with last time, however, he pushed it down and instead got up from his seat. "I wouldn't count on another technicality saving your sorry ass this time." He turned marched toward the door and began opening it, stopping to glare at Freddy once more. "You're gonna fry and this time, it'll be nice and legal."
Freddy's only response to this was to break out into laughter as Johnson closed the door behind him.
"Commencing experiment #301. Bring Subject 13-4 into the testing room at once." The man in the lab coat demanded into the intercom. The woman beside him started scribbling something onto the paper on her clipboard as the doors to the testing room below opened. From the safety of the viewing room several feet above the testing floor, they watched as an undead hulking behemoth stepped into the room. This monster, relieved of his machete and hockey mask, was once known to the outside world as Jason Voorhees.
"Start up the automatic weapon." The man spoke into the intercom. A few seconds later, a slab of the wall opposite Jason caved in, and from the resulting space emerged a black device resembling a machine gun in appearance and function. The device rose up and pointed itself at the undead behemoth whose only reaction was a confused head tilt.
"Begin!" The man shouted.
At once, the device blasted into Jason's hide, the shells tearing through his thick hide and innards like butter. Jason tried to approach the machine but was only able to manage a few steps before collapsing on his own spilled offal, splattering the pool of blood that formed underneath him all over the room. Despite this, the machine continued to fire until it had run out of ammunition after which, it resumed its former position and returned to the wall.
The scientist watched with bated breath as Jason continued to bleed out on the floor below.
"Those bullets were filled with cyanide." The woman whispered. "It should be kicking in now."
A few more moments passed and Jason remained still. The woman sighed and was just about to write down the result in her notes when she saw Jason's arms twitch. As the scientist continued to watch, Jason slowly picked himself back up from the floor, fixed himself into a sitting position, and nonchalantly grabbed his own viscera.
"Amazing!" The man gasped. "Simply amazing! He's just putting himself back together as if nothing happened.
"Do you think the cyanide will slow down the regeneration?" The woman asked.
"I almost hope it doesn't." The man beamed. "In all my years in this field, I have never seen anything like this. It's like something out of a comic book!"
As the scientist spoke, Jason calmly shoved his own guts back into his abdomen. Once they were all in, he leaned against the wall and waited as the gaping wound on his stomach began to close, the organs repairing and rearranging themselves from within.
"Just think of all the good that can come from this being." The woman chirped. "The world of medical science could be changed forever! Think of all the lives we could save."
The man turned to look at the woman, his smile wavering. "That's only if the Government doesn't hijack the experiments and use Subject 13-4 for military gain." He looked back to Jason who had almost finished healing. "I'm sure General Marx is drooling at the thought of leading an army of invincible soldiers to the wars of the future."
The woman continued to look at the man, her own smile beginning to falter. "Come on, Dr. Crowler! I know the General is funding these experiments and all but surely even a man like him would understand the importance of human life over military gain."
"You are far too optimistic Sarah," Crowler uttered. "And one of these days you're gonna realize that for yourself." With this, Crowler flipped the intercom back on and spoke into it again.
"Experiment complete. Please return Subject 13-4 to his quarters."
The door that had let Jason into the room opened once again and a pair of armed men rushed in, shooting Jason with the tranquilizer darts in their guns before he could even react and rushing back out. It took two minutes for the drugs to knock Jason out but once they kicked in, the men rushed back in with two others, and together, the group picked up the unconscious Jason and carried him off.
"It's ironic isn't it," Sarah commented. "This being, Jason Voorhees, has taken so many lives over the years and now he's going to be used to save them."
"I sure hope that ends up being the case." Crowler rasped as he walked off, the thought of General Marx and his own plans for Jason heavy in his mind. "I sincerely hope it does."
Michelle Umbra was never what people would call a brave person. She would scream her head off at the sight of a toy cockroach and considered Hocus Pocus to be too extreme of a film for Halloween. This is why, as she walked down the dimly lit corridor with a tray carrying meatloaf, a cup of vegetables, and a carton of milk in her hands, she fretfully pondered just how the hell she got into this situation in the first place.
"Michelle Umbra! You are without a shadow of a doubt the single stupidest person on the face of the Earth!" She mentally tore into herself. "Oh, I'm so scared and cowardly! Maybe working at the local fucking nuthouse will build up some courage. Now, look at you! You're walking toward the cell of the most dangerous inmate in this God-forsaken place! They had to build this entire wing just for him! That's how dangerous he is! And here you are, about to deliver crappy food to this monster. Oh, what a fine mess you've gotten yourself into Michelle. What a fine fucking mess!"
The shivering burette found herself standing before the door at the end of the corridor. Despite it having been put in just over a year ago, the door had a rusted ancient look to it, as if it had been here for years. Michelle found herself trembling at the mere sight of it, not because of the door itself, of course, but because of what lived on the other side of it.
Evil. Pure evil that had been given human form. Evil that never died, no matter how many times in the past it should have. Evil that waited for its next chance to strike with the patience of a timeless God.
That evil lives right behind that door and Michelle knew that it could sense her presence. It knew she was there.
"I...I...I b-brought...y-your...food." She whimpered in a barely audible voice. Slowly, she bent down and slid the tray into the slot near the bottom of the door.
"Almost there. Almost done." She thought.
As soon as the tray had vanished into the slot completely, Michelle allowed herself to breathe out of relief and started to get up. It was at this moment when something grabbed onto her fingers from inside the slot and yanked them forward, slamming Michelle's forehead against the door. Blood trickled from the fresh wound as the brunette tried to pull her hand free from the slot.
"He's got me!" She screamed like a banshee. "He's got me! Somebody help me!"
She gripped her captive arm with her free hand and pushed her black high heel-clad foot against the door but it did little good. The thing inside was still pulling her hand through the slot, degloving it in the process. Michelle screamed in pain and fear as the bottom of the door was painted with the blood trickling from her caught hand and the skin that once rested upon it forming a gory wad that consumed the slot.
"Help! Someone help me!"
"Michelle!"
"Help!"
"Michelle!"
Michelle's screaming abruptly stopped as two strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulder. She slowly turned around, half convinced that the inmate on the other side of the door had escaped and was now behind her, ready to break her neck as easily as one would snap a twig. Instead, instant relief flooded over her when she saw the dark well-toned face of her superior and crush, Matt Wellden.
"Michelle! Are you ok?" He asked with concern in his eyes. "You were just screaming bloody murder!"
Michelle started into his kind eyes for a moment before looking down at the tray of food in her hands, both of which still had the skin on them. She looked back toward the unbloody door and realized with immense relief as well as a twinge of embarrassment that she had imagined the whole thing.
"I..I'm sorry Matt!" She stammered as she hastily slid the tray into the slot, almost spilling the milk carton in the process. "I don't know what happened. I was about the slide the food in and then...I could swear he had grabbed my hand and...I don't know what that was...It was like I had a nightmare while I was awake or something. Her cheeks flushed red upon realizing what she had just said and she placed a hand between her face and Matt's line of sight. "I can't believe I freaked out like that. I'm so embarrassed."
"Hey hey hey." Matt placed his hand on her shoulder again. "It's alright." He looked up at the door. "Michael Audrey Myers is behind that door. That man is one of the most dangerous serial killers to ever exist. Anyone in their right mind would be terrified of having to be near this cell."
"Even you?" Michelle asked with a somewhat coy tone.
"Yep. Even me. Come on. Let's get out of here." Matt put his arms around the blushing Michelle and together, the two orderlies walked away from the cell.
"Really?" Michelle asked. "Even someone as brave as you is scared of Michael?"
Matt let out a laugh. "I sure am." As Michelle, now content with being in her crush's arms, looked ahead happily, Matt turned his head back toward the cell. Overwhelming fear froze the inside of his body like a blackened frost. "Believe me. "I am."
(Well here it is folks. The sequel to my story Freddy vs. Jason 2: The Rise of Michael Myers which in itself was a sequel to the movie Freddy vs. Jason. As with the last story, I do have an ending planned so I will be able to finish it. With that being said, I will take this moment to make a small announcement. I will be absent from the site for a week or so. I'm not on vacation or anything. I just have an original story on Wattpad that I need to work on. It shouldn't take me too long to finish the next chapter for it and afterward, I'll come back here and continue with my ongoing stories here, starting with The Yellow Ape and The Black Bee. Until then, I wish you guys well. BSC out.)