Summary: It is nowalmost 20 years since Alice was forced to flee Springwood. But The Dream Master wouldn't leave the town completely unprotected. Her gift: a lone warrior to fight Freddy. (Kinda a Buffy scenario)
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Freddy, or any of the other Nightmare on Elm Street characters. But I do own my characters, and if I see anyone using them, I will get more than a little pissed. This story is not for profit and at no time has money exchanged hands while working on this. This was written solely for the purpose of fun. This disclaimer will apply for all ensuing chapters of this story (so I don't have to keep repeating myself).
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language. I will try to stay away from R ratings, but it may be necessary later on.
Please, I welcome reviews. Tell me what you think. It may be a bit confusing at first, but everything well be explained in later chapters.
Prologue Summer, 1990…The moon was full, casting silver moonbeams down onto the sleeping world. The night was still, peaceful even, for no living creature stirred as a single robed figure made her way carefully down a steep hillside.
As the woman reached the bottom, she carefully began to weave around numerous tombstones, making sure no grave was stepped on. The figure sliced through fog, making it move and curl like water tides as the robed one hurried on.
Spotting a faint light in the distance, the woman changed course, and moved to intercept the glow. As she drew closer, the figure was able to somewhat see through the hazy fog. Being anxious to reach her destination, she quickened her pace.
The woman came to a stop in front of a sacred circle created by white stones. In the middle of the circle, a small fire blazed, revealing the source of the light. In a circle around the fire, laid several native looking objects: a white buffalo skin, an intricate dream catcher, and an eagle feather were just some of the things she recognized. There was also something else around the strange scene; sitting on the ground, on the outside of the circle sat another robed figure.
"Are you ready to begin?" asked this new figure, in a clearly feminine voice.
'Ready' was not exactly how the standing woman would choose to describe herself. Terrified maybe. Petrified was more like it. What the two were about to do had not been done for hundreds of years. They were about to awaken an ancient and powerful magic, and though the two had spoken about this ritual before, she was still not sure if this was the right choice.
You have to do this, came an inner voice. You know it is the right choice, the only choice. She knew the voice was right. It was the only way to combat him. She also knew it was the only way her son would survive, the only way her family and friends would survive, the only way she would survive.
With a determined nod to her companion, She sat on the ground, directly across from the other figure.
"Then let the ritual begin," The other robed figure drew back the hood that had been covering her face.
Following Yvonne's lead, Alice Johnson removed her hood, and like Yvonne, held her hands up to the sky. The ritual had begun.
Chapter 1: Hell's ReachShe landed hard on the cold metal catwalk, her knees absorbing the violent repercussions from the 20-foot drop. The air was hot, and reeked of the coppery sent of blood. Huge plums of steam gushed out of rusted pipes and floated about at chest-level, making visibility difficult.
Damnit, where is he? She scanned the walk around her and seeing nothing, scooted closer to the railing. Making sure she had a firm grip on the old metal, she stuck her head in-between the rails and peered over them to the level underneath her. Why can't I feel him? She knew he was close; the air seemed to grow staler when he was around, like an old musty house that needed airing out.
"Please, God!"
The scream jolted through her like lightening. How she had let him get that far ahead of her, she had no idea. With a spring similar to a cheetah's, Natasha Anderson leapt up from her hunched position and sprinted through the maze of metal spider-webs toward the direction of the yell.
...
Stacie couldn't get away. Everywhere she turned, every tunnel she went through, he was there. He seemed to know exactly where she was at all times, like he was some kind of devil. He was always there, always scraping his claws, intimidating her.
Turning down a new passageway, Stacie cautiously walked forward. The air was misty over here, like a gray, cloudy day that couldn't seem to make up its mind if it wanted to rain or not. Hearing a scratch behind her, Stacie spun around, fully expecting to see the horribly burnt figure of her tormenter. She wasn't disappointed to see that he was nowhere to be around. But still, she felt a need to be weary, and silently as a ghost, she began to creep backwards, keeping her eyes glued to the area where the sound had originated.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind. She didn't have to look to know it was him. She screamed and tired to jerk her way free, but it was too late. His left arm gripped her tightly around the waist, while his right, the one with the claws, hovered inches from her face, the claws twitching, making an evil symphony of creaks.
"Please, God!" she screamed, desperate for help.
He laughed then, not his usual load guffaw, but a low, sinister almost lustful laugh. The claws came up towards her neck and began to stroke the milky white skin, playfully tickling her.
"No one can help you now, not even God," came his gruff voice. The claws, bored with Stacie's neck, inched their way down the front of her nightgown, making the fabric crease as the blades went down into the crevice between her breasts. "Don't worry my dear, this is going to hurt a lot."
The claws quit stroking the two bulges of her breasts and went further down directly in front of her stomach. The tips of the razors began to press in, very slowly. Stacie began to feel four separate points of pain as the blades pierced the outer-most layer of skin. She screamed both from panic and pain. She wasn't ready to die; she was too young. Stacie struggled even harder than before, but gave up quickly as she discovered that the struggling made the pain far worse.
"NO!" Stacie screamed again, "PLEASE, SOMEBODY!"
He laughed again; a gleeful, delighted roar. He was taking great pleasure at her pain. Stacie cringed at the thought of his laugh being the last thing she would ever hear in this world. She closed her eyes against the blinding pain that was making her vision blur. This is it, she thought. I'm his.
Without warning, she suddenly found herself flat against the metal-grated floor. Her attacker no longer had his claws in her stomach, but pain was still searing through her body, as if some sort of poison had been injected into her through the razors. Confused as to what had happened and why he hadn't killed her yet, Stacie slowly rolled over, and gasped as to what she saw.
Her assailant, in the middle of picking himself off of the floor, glared at her with the most murderous gleam in his eyes Stacie could ever imagine. He was furious; his mouth snarled and his nose flared. If it were possible, he looked more like a demon than he had just minutes ago.
"Little late," he snarled, "Natasha."
Before Stacie could ask herself why he had just addressed her as Natasha, someone stepped around her and placed themselves between her and the enraged demon.
"More like just in time," came a female voice from the stranger. "Back off, Freddy."
"You back off, bitch. She's already half dead. You failed…again." he spat, finishing off with a crack from his claws.
Stacie watched as the stranger crouched down beside her, all the while keeping her eyes on the man she had called 'Freddy'. Natasha placed her hand over Stacie's eyes, and then she was gone, vanished.
Freddy watched as his prey disappeared from the dream world. It wasn't the first time one of his children had been taken away from him by this girl, but Freddy was going to make sure it would be the last.
With his quarry gone, Freddy tilted his head and took a menacing step forward. "You are becoming most annoying. I grow tired of dealing with you, Natasha Anderson."
"You could always quit," she said flatly.
Suddenly, Freddy let loose with a hysterical laugh. He doubled over with uncontrollable giggles, and his guffaw resounded off the metal walls like some explosion.
Confused and a bit irked, Natasha stared. "What's so funny?" she asked haughtily.
"What, and go back to hell…permanently?" he questioned when he had gained enough control of himself to answer her. "And leave you with nothing to do? No, I don't think I could rest peacefully knowing that you and all the other damned heathens were breeding yet another generation of repulsive, empty-minded brats."
"Sooner or later, you will have no choice but to go back to hell," Natasha countered.
"I believe it's later for me, and sooner for you, Natty," Freddy warned.
In horror, Natasha felt the weight of Freddy's aura rush in on her, attempting to smother the life out of her body with demonic, white-hot rage. She couldn't breath, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he had accomplished his goal.
Putting all of her concentration in defending herself, Natasha gathered all of her aura's energy in her chest, letting the native eagle spirit gather strength as her heart pumped faster and faster, weaving goodness and light into her power. She was putting none of her energy into warding off his power, and soon her vision began to be overcome by blackness. Not blackness caused by losing consciousness, but blackness thick with the stench of decay and the feel of Satan. Hell was reaching for her…it was no or never.
With all the strength that had been given to her, Natasha drove her aura, the untamed spirit of the eagle, out of her heart and down thorough her arms, watching as it left her body and shot out to Freddy.
The rush of energy hit its mark, and being no match against the pure, white power, Freddy was thrown backwards, hitting the steel catwalk hard on landing.
Feeling his power let go of her, Natasha slumped against the catwalks railing, trying to regain strength. Freddy's black power may have let go of her, but she could still feel the black nothingness sticking to her, leaving an ugly residue on her soul. It had not been the first time he had attempted to overcome her white power by his hellish black energy. Each time his aura had entered her soul, a tiny part of him had been left to attempt to pollute her soul. Natasha had no illusions about her vulnerability to him; she could feel him growing inside her with each passing night. It had been six months, almost to the day, that she had been chosen to be Freddy's Keeper, and she was beginning to feel, with ever increasing horror, that her time was coming to an end.
Still leaning against the railing, Natasha watched warily as Freddy sprang up from the catwalk. Her aura had done its job of stopping Freddy's attack, but it had worn off quickly, and now Freddy was furious. He half-crouched, and slowly began to circle her, looking for his adversary's weak spot, looking for an opening into her defenses. She prayed to God that he didn't sense that she had nothing left in her. If Freddy chose to attempt to attack her again, whether it was by trying to smother her with his aura, or a physical attack, Natasha knew she would have no defense. She was spent.
As suddenly as he had begun, Freddy stopped circling. He stared hard into her eyes, and she stared hard back. Slowly and wickedly, Freddy smiled, revealing his jagged, shark-like teeth. Shit; she saw immediately that he knew.
"You can't possibly think that you can trick me, do you Natasha?" he snarled. "Remember, we are one in the same."
Without waiting for an answer, Freddy charged her, springing faster than she had ever seen him move before. There was no time to put up a counter move. Natasha watched, as the world around her seemed to move in slow motion. She watched as Freddy's claws rose, and aimed directly at her eyes.
There was nowhere to go, nothing she could do. The effort of combating his aura had drained her of any power she could now use to meet his attack and fight him off. There was only one solution she could think of; she knew it was suicidal.
Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer, and launched herself over the catwalks railing, falling like a lead weight into the black depths of Freddy's dream world.
