Freddy watched from the kitchen entrance as Jennifer clumsily made her way down the hall. She was no doubt heading straight to her bedroom in hopes of catching any remaining sleep that she could. While he wanted nothing more than to stalk after her, he had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting Djinn's eyes across the way. A jerk of the genie's head indicated that they had something to discuss. Voorhees and Ghostface returned to the living room themselves, while Djinn waited for Freddy to wander over.

Ever since meeting Pinhead, he noticed that the pierced killer seemed to have a certain respect for titles and esteemed ranks, but it made no difference to the rest of the group: No one called the djinn 'Wishmaster', much to the djinn's own chagrin. His human name hadn't caught on either. Instead they all addressed him by what he was, which was simply a djinn. Which apparently was a fucked up genie with a grudge and a dark sense of humor.

The dream demon scowled. He didn't particularly care for another meeting. The only thing he cared about right about now was finding his way into Jennifer's dreams. Haunting the dreams of the innocent had become both a lifestyle and a hobby. Since no earthly things could give him the same pleasure that killing did, he became vexed whenever something got in the way of his favored pastime. He was especially irked considering this massive turn of events. Now no longer a slave to the perimeter of Springwood, the world was at his fingertips. Even as he thought about it, a coursing excitement surged through him. His playground was now infinitely larger than it had ever been. And he couldn't fucking wait to explore it. Something about it nagged him however, but for the time being he had to push those thoughts aside to see what Djinn and the rest wanted.

Freddy took a drink of his beverage to settle his bout of annoyance. He made his way across the foyer, in turn earning a content nod from the 'Wishmaster'. Both of them re-entered the living space. Chucky still sat on top of the tv stand. He had scooted back far enough to rest his small body against the wall. Voorhees, Myers, and Creeper stood next to one another on the left-hand side of the room. Pinhead remained where he was, standing in the middle. Ghostface claimed the couch and Djinn stood next to the armchair the Elm Street Slasher had had to himself earlier. Freddy returned to the chair, sinking in cozily while setting the beer on the topside of his thigh. With everyone gathered once again and with no human presence in the room, they could properly discuss at length their plans.

"So what?" Began Freddy, his eyes going around to every killer. He was noticeably impatient as his thumb tapped a rapid pace at the neck of the bottle, as if the action were a replacement for tapping his foot. There weren't many hours of the night left.

There was a breath of contemplative silence before it was broken by Ghostface to state simply;

"I found her first."

The declaration did not come as unexpected. Honestly it was the elephant in the room and it had only been a matter of time before it would've been brought up again. They might have given her a moment's pass for now, but ultimately they hadn't yet agreed upon her fate. She was an unclaimed victim up for grabs, and being in Hell for so long had turned some of them into dogs salivating for scraps. Nevertheless, the statement had a collective verbal headache enveloping all those that occupied the room to groan.

Chucky's head knocked back to thump against the wall behind him; "This again?"

"Yeah, this again, because I found her first! It's losers weepers."

"It's finders keepers to whoever caught her. You didn't catch her. Hell, none of us did. We all kinda showed up at the same time. Goin' off that, it's a tie." Really it could have been rationalized that the kill should go to Creeper since it had been him who had sniffed her out, but if they were being honest with themselves, no one wanted to admit that. It was better to play dumb. Better to improve their own individual chances than to share.

And did that make those that had originally accused 'Father Death' of being selfish, hypocrites?

Yes. Yes it did.

"Since majority of us say she ain't for you to kill, how do you think we oughta decide then? Draw names out of a hat?" Some part of it was meant to be rhetorical; However at the suggestion, Creeper plucked the large hat from his head and flipped it outwards as if to offer up its use. Chucky swiped at his direction with the back of his hand; "We ain't doin' that." The hat returned to its rightful place.

The djinn's lip curled; "I thought we agreed earlier that killing her would be a waste."

A waste for him maybe, but for the others? Not so much. Ghostface leaned the temple of his mask forward to spitefully retort; "A waste? That's putting it generously, don't you think?"

Chucky jabbed his pointer finger at Djinn; "Killin' ain't a waste. Just depends how you go about it. It's good we get this out now with her gone. There's no tellin' what she would'a done with us talkin' like that with her here. Probably would'a gotten hysterical. Start screamin' and cryin', makin' too much noise. All because you can't keep your trap shut," This time the finger poked at Ghostface to show that the previous sentence had been aimed at him specifically. "We let her think she's good, she keeps quiet. It ain't that hard to wrap your head around," Then he gave the ghost a crooked purse of lips to add as an afterthought; "Well, for you it might be. As dense as you are."

Ghostface wasn't cowed by the doll's confidence; "I still don't see why we had to go around the room and introduce ourselves. She's not going to be alive by the time this is all over.."

Chucky angled his index to motion upstairs where Jennifer no doubt slept; "Well she don't know that, does she? She thinks we'll give her a chance, she plays nice. It's smooooth sailin'. And honestly?" The toy looked around at the others that had been letting them bicker.

"Maybe green bean's onto somethin'," Now Chucky shifted to gaze over towards the djinn; "Look, I wasn't talkin' out of my ass earlier when I said you made a good point. We use this place to lay low for a little while. Recuperate. Clear our heads. When it's all said and done though, somebody's gotta do it. So if we can't figure it out now, we got what? A week or two to get our shit straight? I think that gives us plenty'a time."

"You need two weeks to come up with something?" The grumpy phantom was quick to chastise him.

"No, birdbrain. We got two weeks to come up with somethin'. It's a deadline, that's all." He smoothed himself down a bit, patting where he had put his knife underneath his overalls to let himself get a tad more comfortable on the tv stand. Crossing his arms, he sized up his fellow slashers to comment; "Some of you ain't lived the domestic life and it shows."

Freddy's head rocked to the side, his hand lightly teetering his drink around on his thigh; "Aww, dolly wants to play house."

For a moment it seemed as though Chucky was considering how to insult him, but surprisingly he cast aside any shame at the notion to give up the following spiel; "Y'know what? Yeah. Maybe I do. Only difference is I don't got a ball and chain no more." When it appeared as though none of them, save for the djinn, was taking this seriously he belted out loudly; "Thiiink aboout iiit! We get all of the benefits! No rent, no bills. A place to hang our heads and put our feet up. Home cooked meals! Free tv. No offense, some of you could use a bath," The following track of his eyes informed them who he thought could use some soap the most and he went on; "And at the end of the day, who's to say we still can't do what we do best, huh? We got a whole neighborhood to fuck around with. Be honest with me, Fred. You had a wife and kid once. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy all those lazy afternoons you used'ta have before you turned into a human candle." And the plaything thought the ghost was dense?

Freddy's eyes swung from face to face, the mention of his previous life souring his present mood. He'd rather burn alive a fourth time than entertain the memories of his human self again; "That was before I figured out I had something better to do."

Not only that, that had been before his wife and child had turned on him. Before the parents of his victims had taken it into their own hands to torch him. Before he realized that the most enjoyable parts of his marriage hadn't been the romantic intimacy or the sex, but had been all the times he had lied to Loretta about working late so he could really start living his life to the fullest: Doing what he did best. Maiming. Torture. Seeking revenge. Clearly domestic life hadn't been the best thing to have happened to him. He had died so he could live, and the Dream People had given him the greatest job a man like him could have. Working his own hours, setting his own rules, eager to get back to it, sinking in hour after hour with his own blood and sweat to be handsomely rewarded for it; And he never got tired of it.

The concept of people like them indulging this play of 'normal life' was beyond laughable.

But the unhelpful response didn't phase the Lakeshore Strangler at all. He pressed on; "I mean it. You bozos may not know it now, but this?" His head took its sweet time looking around the living room to demonstrate. "We could do so much worse than this. It's two weeks. We'll be outta here in no time. You'll see."

The shortest of moments went by before the djinn stated his obvious appeal, as though none of them knew this already; "I am in agreement."

A much longer instance of quiet followed, and once more, it was Ghostface that shattered the pause to ask incredulously; "So we can't kill this bitch yet?"

"Unless you want to bring the community down on our heads, she will live until her family returns." Replied Djinn matter-of-factly. The other killer groaned loudly, his head falling back grumpily. Taking note of his rush to end Jennifer's life, the doll audibly ventured;

"Why? You got someplace to be?" Chucky raised a painted brow at him in question.

"No, bu-"

"Then why are you bitchin'?"

Ghostface adamantly leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees; "I'm not bitching." Chucky let out a snarky laugh. He mocked Ghostface's voice, phrasing his tone in a whine; "I'm noot bitchhing!" Freddy chuckled, which had the other killer standing sharply; "You think I want be stuck in a house all day?" He hissed. "Who says we are?" Argued the killer doll. Chucky continued, gesturing towards the living room's entrance; "You wanna leave, go ahead. Nobody said you had to stay. Door's just out there, don't let it hit you on the ass on the way out."

Ghostface pointed his knife disparagingly at him; "And why shouldn't I? It's just like Freddy said. You seem a little too keen on the idea of playing house. You still plan to stay even when her family comes home?"

Now that was something to think about.

Chucky mindlessly waved a hand at the point; "That ain't gonna be for a while. And I don't really got no place to be. Goin' with the flow's become my style. Besides, if you really hate her that much then killin' her family should be a reward within itself. Think of it like havin' a pet around the house, save for the fact that she won't piss and shit everywhere." Ghostface slowly sat back down on the couch, his hand to his chin in thought. More than likely the thought of murdering the girl's family had appealed to his darker nature in spite of his aggravation. He finally relented; "You have a point.."

Chucky "pffted" in response while his hand drifted up to showcase his severe scarring; "Of course I do. You think I'm just a pretty face? Please."

While the point was made, Ghostface couldn't help but mutter; "Still, I can't be the only one that feels this way." He looked around in search of mutual agreement among his peers.

Creeper shrugged as he crossed his leather-covered forearms, his breath forcibly scraping his bared teeth in an unbothered sound. Ghostface looked to Pinhead, hoping to find ground for consensus; "You can't tell me you're thrilled to be here."

Pinhead regarded him coolly; "I am not particularly joyful over these new circumstances." Ghostface sent Chucky what could only be deemed as a smug 'I told you so' look. "However," The Hell Priest robbed him of the smugness to continue; "I lack in your haste. In fact I am struggling to recall the last time I was in the human world. It has been long since I have taken in its sights." Djinn couldn't seem to agree more as he said; "You and I both, cenobite."

"And what happened to all of that 'time is currency' you were so adamant about?" Pressured Ghostface.

"Seeing as I will be unable to return to the Labyrinth for the time being, I see no other better option. In this I, how do you put it? I will 'try and make the best of it'."

Ghostface sighed. It seemed he wasn't going to get anywhere with these idiots.

"I find that I am in no rush either.." Djinn then gave it some thought and a wicked grin lit up his features. "In the way of travel that is. The girl serves more than one purpose. In my experience I tend to find that youth is often ripe with desire, and that I can fulfill." From underneath his garments he retrieved a small, red ruby-looking gemstone. Even in the lackluster lighting it seemed to glimmer beautifully in the palm of his hand.

"Yeah, okay. 'Free My People Moses' over here," Ghostface scoffed further with; "Good luck with that one."

Djinn sent him a withering glare, making a quick growl of displeasure in his throat; "Someone must."

Ghostface nodded, clearly unconvinced; "Uh-huh."

Before that could start a verbal and possibly physical debacle, Michael began making writing motions with his hands. It appeared as though he had had enough of being a bystander to their conversation. He stared specifically at the genie. The djinn returned his stare with some ounce of annoyance at the other's entitlement of wanting something from him;

"You require something? Speak." Before Michael could so much as clench his hands, Chucky's voice butted in to come to his aid; "You bad at charades? Help a guy out." When the genie made no move to 'help a guy out', Chucky snapped at him with a throw of his arm; "Pen. Paper. Get it!" Djinn hastily pocketed the gemstone before wriggling the tips of his long talons in Michael's direction. Instantaneously a notepad and marker appeared in the Haddonfield Slasher's waiting hands. The Wishmaster took some sliver of personal satisfaction at having given the mute killer the incorrect writing utensil. Although some of that spiteful satisfaction dimmed when Michael didn't seem to care in the slightest. They all watched as he scribbled a message.

Holding the pad up for them to see, his words were broadly broadcasted by the thickness of the ink: I don't really want to be here either.

Ghostface immediately perked up, pointing at the message; "See! I told you it's not just me!"

Chucky rolled his eyes at Ghostface. Freddy took a humored sip from his bottle. The doll turned a little in his seated position to look at Michael better. "You got plans?" Michael considered this, his chest rising and falling for a moment. Quickly he started writing again.

My family's dead.

"And?" Prodded Chucky, not getting the point. Most of the others didn't quite get it either. Michael seemed to bristle. He wasted no time in returning his response, one of which was underlined and entirely capitalized as if to emphasize his point;

SO I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

For what seemed like the majority of Michael's life, his only goal was exterminating his bloodline. Now that the job was finished with himself being the only remaining family member, he was feeling quite uncertain as to what he should do. Michael Myers had never had the chance to ponder his future. As it seemed for years, he simply didn't have one. His less than fortunate childhood had ensured the result. So now being face-first with freedom in all its glory, he was stumped as to what would be next.

He had only went along with the doll's plans of travel because it had been admittedly more fulfilling than wasting away in the old house that had become his grave on 45 Lampkin Lane. Where his life had come to an end. Where he haunted the premise like a ghost refusing to move on. And where he had stayed far too long collecting dust: Too bitter to die and entirely uncertain if he was even able to.

Chucky shrugged, not so sure what the masked killer should do either. All he could offer in return was; "World's your oyster." Freddy couldn't help but smile to himself at the thought. For himself he reserved his own twisted version of the phrase, but his smile faded when his eyes were brought to the attention of Jason moving. The undead hockey player tapped Michael's shoulder before pointing down at the notepad.

Michael passed both marker and pad to Jason. Setting down his machete to lean on the wall behind him, he awkwardly shuffled the notepad to lay on his arm while he wrote with his other hand. Freddy sighed loudly, his hatted head falling back dramatically; "Sometime today, Hockey Puck." Jason pointedly ignored him. It took him a bit longer to get his words down and once he had turned the pad around to show everyone else, his handwriting appeared much more wobbly in comparison. He didn't hold the marker like most would, instead he had the writing utensil gripped by a balled fist. Which in turn made his script big and unbalanced:

VEGiSS WAS A BAD iDEA i WANNA GO HOME

Djinn's face warped to bare his teeth as he glanced at the others; "What is a vegiss?" The only answer he received wasn't really an answer, but irritation from Jason's rival. Freddy blew out an annoyed breath from his lips. The misspelling of Vegas hadn't surprised him in the least. It was to be expected of the big dumb zombie. He should have expected Voorhees to pussy out first; "Oh, here we go." Jason took half a step forward as if to walk over and clobber the dream demon over the head with the notepad. Michael ceased his advance with a hand pressed to Jason's stomach. The two silent killers gazed at one another. A simple shake of the Shape's head was enough to encourage Jason to step back, but not without hatefully looking over at Freddy across the room first. Freddy in return took a smug quaff of his beer.

"Heeyy! None of that shit!" The doll waved his forearm as if to wipe the message away from where he sat and as a bonus dissuade any fighting. "Why does everybody keep sayin' that? Vegas was a great idea! Coomee oonn, we had fun didn't we? Didn't we?" The prodding garnered some broken grumbling and conceding around the room. Jason himself even admitted that he had enjoyed the visit by nodding guiltily. He just hadn't enjoyed the way that it had ended.

Chucky turned his attention to the large goalie; "See? I wouldn't take that back for the world. And you remember how long it took me to convince your mom to let you go? That shit took hours! So I don't wanna hear it. And just so y'know, big guy," He leaned in a bit, one hand curling around his mouth as if to let the bigger slasher in on some wisdom. "It ain't Vegiss. It's Vegas. V-E-G-A-S." Jason momentarily looked away to his boots, as if the spelling mistake had made him a teensy bit sheepish. The doll didn't let him bask in the emotion for long.

"Anyway, y'know where home is?" Chucky asked, successfully diverting Jason's embarrassment.

Jason's large head sunk low as it tilted. A hefty pause later, and he was once more scribbling down his reply; NORTHEAST? It wasn't a question of where Camp Crystal Lake was, but being in a state none of them had ever gone to, except for Chucky once, it wasn't making it any easier to visualize. "You think or you know?" The large revenant blinked. Freddy could only roll his eyes so hard. Any harder and they threatened to get stuck behind his skull.

It was difficult to know if he had understood that. Chucky went to offer up something else instead; "We could probably find you a map. There's gotta be one in here somewhere. C'mon." With that, the doll scooted forward and hopped down to the carpet below. While Chucky walked on ahead, Jason took the time to give the notepad and marker back to Michael and in turn retrieve his machete from its leaning stance on the wall. The two left in search.

Creeper looked around the group before turning to leave as well. As per usual, his silence had an uncanny way of speaking for him. He strided out with a determination that was all his own.

"Well now that the peanut gallery is gone," Freddy leaned over to place his empty bottle on the floor before standing. He began a purposeful gait through the middle of the room, shouldering past Pinhead; "I've got a little something that needs attending to." It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was itching to go back to the Dreamscape. Chuckling to himself, he left the remaining four in their places, but not before Pinhead's words followed him out;

"Be mindful not to be too overzealous, Krueger."

Ghostface chortled just after with; "Yeah, It'd be a bad look if you couldn't keep it in your pants."

Freddy threw his gloved hand upwards without turning around, saying; "Yeah, yeah, I'll be on my best behavior." After all, who was better at being bad than him? Thankfully the both of them made no move to follow him or to lecture him further.

If Freddy fucking Krueger wanted to kill the girl, then by all means he would. What was any of them going to do about it? Let alone the overgrown talking pincushion? Give him a slap on the wrist? Spank him with a gilded paddle? His low-life foster father had given him worse punishments for less. No, he wouldn't kill her. Not yet at least. Though if he were, he'd be sure to go about it slowly. What did those jackasses think he was? A rutty amateur fumbling with a knife? While it was true he was feeling murder-deprived, he had enough sense to know that a quick kill was just as unsatisfying as a quick fuck. A quickie was good every now and then, but a proper slaughter kept him going for long after.

His satisfaction of not being stopped along the way was palpable.

Freddy made his way up the stairs with hardly contained zeal. How long had it been since he'd last twisted and demonized the dreams of others? He decided far too much time had passed, and if he had any say, the forced break would be his last. He prowled down the long hallway, his eyes burning through the wood of the door at its end. The closer he got, the more the odious grin on his mouth grew. He hadn't forgotten the way Jennifer's scream had filled the air. It had struck something deep within, something primal and insatiable. It was one of those screams a guy could get used to. And right now? One he wouldn't mind hearing over and over again.

Turning the knob, he easily slid into the room and let the door click shut behind him. He took the chance now to survey the surroundings.

The house itself was generous in size, so it came as no surprise that the bedrooms did not lack in their accumulated generosity. While he had been in her room earlier, now he could really take a proper look: The walls were a blank beige while the hardwood of the floor was a light oak. To his left was her bed and directly over it stretched a horizontal, narrow mirror. To his right the closet was one that boasted double doors, yet not large enough to be a walk-in. Along the next wall parallel with the entrance lay the only window in the room. The floor-length curtains matched much of the color scheme with their delicate white. Some still-packed boxes crowded the corner between it and the closet. The space of wall next to it was partially empty; The floor below cluttered with a couple of precariously stacked books. And above the stacks began an unfinished collage wall of their pages. In the proceeding corner sat a big moving box and a white bookbag. Above them were two simplistic shelves nailed to the wall. A small collection of trophies lined both. Opposite the closet had a white writing desk complete with a bookcase on top, filled with novels, journals, and scattered hair ties. A small waste bin rested nearby, and a generic white desk chair sat directly in front. On the other side of the desk loomed a wide, white bookshelf. Books and fake plants took turns to horde the shelving. With only two posters and a handful of medals to decorate the walls, his eyes temporarily lingered on the medals and trophies.

If he weren't so pressed for time, he would have wandered over to discover what athletic achievements she had accomplished. Though it wouldn't really matter. He'd get his chance to explore the inner workings of her mind eventually. Dreams told him all he needed to know about people, and their fear filled out the rest.

The glare of the digital clock on her desk reminded him of his current priority.

5:56 A.M.

At last he turned to look upon her. Freddy snickered to himself at the fact that she had been too tired to slip underneath the blanket. It now allowed him the view of her sleeping form. Jennifer lay curled in a ball facing him, shivering in her sleep. She suddenly seemed so small and fragile in her bed. He felt himself inch closer, clinking his blades together in absent thought. His eyes roamed over the curtain of long hair that spilled across her pillow. The length wasn't a common sight, but it promised some fun scenarios. His gloved hand twitched at the thought. Then he eyed her attire with a purse of his lips. Judging from the pink, penguin pajama top and bottoms, it was clear she hadn't expected guests tonight. Cute.

Speaking of things she least expected, he had just the thing for her first proper nightmare. She missed mommy and daddy? Then Freddy Krueger would give her just that. He had just enough time to cook up something short and sweet. And damned if anyone could say he wasn't resourceful.

Unbeknownst to her, Jennifer would be seeing her family much sooner than she had thought.