This thing needs to end. I want to say I can finish A fic. *groans realizing that she wants to start like five more but hasn't finished any in forever* At least this one is close to being finished even if this chapter is really short. Thanks for reading (despite what I did to Dan – but that just means I don't discriminate! *points to Laurie*) You all are awesome! (And yes – I ended this were I ended it. *evil laughter*)

Part IX

"Krueger won't be getting out of this room alive."

Rorschach felt his breath blow back on his skin, reflected by the fabric in his face. Frozen air rose like smoke through the front in a white crisp breath. Rorschach pulled his blazer collar up around his throat closer to his ascot in an attempt to keep in the warmth. Rorschach missed his trench coat, but refused to move it from Daniel, who was now being kept in a cold storage unit owned by Veidt. If Daniel had been here, though, he'd probably have that stupid white snow suit. Odd looking, but functional. Rorschach frowned again at the thoughts of his friend. Fixed his face with determination remembering the mission to avenge his fallen brother.

The plan hadn't changed; just the location. This time when they dragged Krueger into the real world, he'd find himself face to face with a closed, locked room. A freezer. No windows, no exits. No one to jump into. Vents sealed and door locked; only operable by Veidt. Just a small cold room with two chairs in the middle. They wouldn't make the same mistakes this time. No one would be left behind in the dream world and this room would soon be red from Krueger's insides.

The Comedian and Veidt sat sleeping in the center of the room in said chairs. They twitched slightly once in a while indicating they had found Krueger, but otherwise remained still. Veidt had expressed concern about Rorschach going in so soon and recommended he stay awake this round. Comedian had agreed with his own comment about an emotional Rorschach meant a stupid Rorschach. They didn't trust him to think objectively with his best friend rotting in the other room. Rorschach would have been angry if it hadn't left him opportunity to gather his anger together for the first shot at Krueger.

Rorschach had plans to rip his intestines out through the navel.

There was a slight hiss in the air from the machinery keeping the room at the lowered temperature buzzing in Rorschach's ears. His eyes were red and puffy from the lack of sleep but adrenaline had become a constant friend in his veins. Kept him focused; awake even if he felt dead on his feet. Rorschach pointedly ignored the slight sway in his stance from exhaustion catching up to him through the non-movement. He could stay focused and ready for action.

Or so he thought, anyway. That smell that had started wafting through the room, however, was finally becoming a distraction. The vigilante couldn't tell where or what it was coming from. Rorschach wrinkled his nose under his mask and wondered if it was coming from himself. He usually never noticed anything off, but with such a sterile environment blocking out everything else, Rorschach's unique scent would be more obvious.

The vigilante discreetly leaned his head towards his shoulder wondering if it was from his own suit due to no longer being smothered by a trench coat. Rorschach frowned after a sniff. There was a smell, but the one lingering on his shoulder was the smell of trash, compost. Nothing that wasn't always there due to his unique hiding spot for his clothes. No, the smell in the air was something else. Familiar, but not in the same way as his living conditions. More like something he found on the job. Like the smell of something rotting. Like old blood.

"Hey, Buddy."

Rorschach flinched at the sound of that familiar voice in the room; his breath stopped. It came from behind him. Rorschach refused to turn around. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

"Aw, Dan. I don't think he's happy to see you." A lighter voice replied. The sound of fabric shifting was deafening in the now silent room. "I told you he was a jerk. I don't know why you put up with him."

"Aw, don't be like that, Laurie." A dorky laugh he'd heard a million times before. "Rorschach's always had my back."

Rorschach let out a tight, choked sound.

"Usually." Another laugh, shorter this time; laced with disappointment. "He kinda' dropped the ball on this one."

Rorschach wondered if he had finally lost his mind. He was hallucinating. Had to be. But the twisted conversation in his head continued and his feet stayed glued to the ground, refusing to turn and confirm what he was hearing.

"Oh? What'd he do, Dan?"

"He couldn't stop Krueger fast enough. I mean, you died. I died. That little Roche girl died." Rorschach could see the sickly sweet smile of pity in his head without looking. It was a smile Daniel had perfected. "He's kinda' slow for such spritely little guy."

"Oh! I get it." Her laughter shouldn't have sounded so open and happy. Or familiar. Mocking. "He's slow in the head!"

"Laurie!" A friendly scolding. "Be nice."

Rorschach kept his eyes focused on Veidt and Comedian still asleep in the center of the room. They were real. The voices behind him were not. They were fighting Krueger. Rorschach was just tired and hallucinating. Trick of his mind brought from guilt. That was it. Trick of the mind and his dead friend appearing behind him with that whore of a girl. Rorschach twisted his face in disgust. Dan and Laurie together as giggling couple. What a nightmare that would- "I'm asleep."

"This guy needs a new interior decorator." The Comedian huffed as he and Veidt stomped down metal grate pathways. He wasn't sure how long they'd been looking for Krueger, but Eddie's trigger finger was itching for action. He was half tempted just to waste ammo on the room and have the bullets ricochet off the metal. It was a dream right? Couldn't he just wish up extra ammunition? "It's always this same damn boiler room. I don't get it."

Veidt took in the familiar architecture and refused to admit that he too had been wondering something similar. This room held significance to Krueger in some way. Was it the atmosphere? Or something more? "Perhaps he's a theme villain."

"Ha ha." Eddie snorted. "That sounds more up your alley Mr. Fashionable."

"It is odd we haven't seen him in quite some time yet, though." Adrian muttered to himself ignoring the brutish man's jab. The boiler room was empty save for rusted equipment and the constant sound of steam being released from creaky, equally rusted piping. But it was dulled somehow, giving only a second best effort to be frightening. Like something was missing from it. The sound of the Comedian breathing seemed to beat louder in his ears than the environment. Adrian turned to his companion. "I'd gotten the impression that Krueger enjoyed the attention."

Eddie lifted his cigar from his mouth and blew out a ring of smoke into the air. It combined with the steam into single trail of vapor. "Maybe he's finally running scared? We did get him pretty good last time and let's face it, our little inkblot is pretty pissed off." Eddie shrugged. "I know I sure wouldn't want to run into that little pistol right now."

Adrian put his hands on the nearest railing and stared out into the crowded, yet somehow open and never ending room of rust and steam. His face pensive. "Somehow, I doubt that."

Rorschach spun around on his heel and stared straight in the face of Fred Krueger. The deranged man was holding up two small hand puppets, children's toys, dressed like the second Silk Spectre and Nite Owl. Silk Spectre's twisted little doll fit snuggly on his hand, but he held the Nite Owl puppet up with his clothes, legless body dangling in the air. Both dolls had large black-thread stitched smiles that took up the entire width of their faces. "Krueger."

"Aw, didn't you like my little performance?" Krueger lifted up the Owl doll. He switched his voice to match the nerd's. "I think I play a pretty good Daniel if I say so myself." Krueger smirked and dropped the fake voice. He got the masked man to twitch; that was enough. "Do you want to play Silkie?"

Rorschach stiffened when Krueger started to make the dolls kiss making disgusting noises with his mouth. The growl lodged in his throat was almost as frightening as those damn dogs.

"Kiss kiss!" Krueger giggled. "That's what you wanted to do righ-"

Rorschach cut Krueger off by way of hand to the throat. He shoved the man into the back of the freezer wall, not noticing the size of the room had shrunk down to the size of a closet, completely focused on strangling this bastard. Kruger kept smiling. "I am going to kill you."

"You can try." Krueger smirked feeling the grip of leather gloves twist around his throat. He lifted the small Nite Owl puppet still on the tip of his claw slowly and held it next to Rorschach's cheek. "But I think it's more likely you just join your little friends."

The little Nite Owl puppet "kissed" him on the cheek and Rorschach saw white.

The enraged yell that ripped from Rorschach's throat was more animal than human. And Krueger loved it. It sounded like agony and pain and every other beautiful noise he'd ever taken from a victim. Angry, agonized souls tasted the best. Time to add the extra bit of spice to make it perfect. The sweet taste of giving up. Total despair.

Krueger kicked Rorschach in the gut hard enough to send him flying into the opposite wall (much closer to his back than he remembered…) with enough force to pushl straight through. Instead of steel, it had been dry wall and there were now small pieces of plaster surrounding him and clinging to his pinstripe suit. When had Krueger moved him? Rorschach sat up from the ground to see a pair of feet before his face. Two pairs of feet. His eyes drifted up to stare through the black and white fabric of his face. "Daniel."

"Don't know why you keep fighting it, Rorschach."

"Yeah ya' stubborn jerk. Just listen to Dan for once in your life and give up already!"

Rorschach growled and backed up as far as he could from the abominations in front of him. Twisted figures of his friend and the whore stared at him in fighting stances. Familiar yet horribly deformed representations of a good man and his friend. Their costumes hung ripped and tattered on their frame. Bloodied with their own blood mixed together with fresh streams pouring from wounds and the old clotted brown chunks of aged liquid clinging to their skin. Maggots dripped from open wounds in their chest and stomach respectively. Nite Owl's cowl was off, revealing sweat drenched hair and red eyes that matched the fake Spectre's. Their faces were sewn into a stretched smile mimicking Glasgow scars to match the puppets.

It made Rorschach want to vomit.