Crying once again he no longer saw his stepfather, but a man with horribley burnt skin wearing a dusty brown fedora hat with startling crystal sea blue eyes. Also dressed in a blood red and pine green striped Christmas sweater, brown cargo pants, and black steel- tipped hiking boots. On his right hand, however, was a glove spiced up with blades on his fingers.

He smirked. "I ain't gonna hurcha kid."

"You... you're not?" Duncan whispered. The man shook his head, running his forefingered talon over one of the many scratches and scars (most still fresh, bleeding droplets of the dark liquid) on Duncan's face. Duncan didn't react of flinch at the touch, though looked immensily relieved.

"Who does this to you?" the mystery man asked abruptedly, still running his knives on the cuts.

"My... daddy, sir," Duncan answered in a weak tone laced with unease and fright. "He gets... very... angry." He then gasped and clapped his hands over his mouth. "Oh! I'm in so much trouble!" a muffled scold sounded.

The man chuckled darkly. "Not likely, kid. You're Duncan right? Duncan Blac?" He nodded, hands still clamped over mouth. "Why don't we play a game Duncan?"

He took his hands off his mouth, smiling brightly. "I love games!"

The man set his hands underneath Duncan's arms, lifting him into the air as he stood up. Duncan wrapped his frail arms around the man's neck as he was held to his chest. The man looked down, spotting Archie, and with a flick of his wrist the stuffed rabbit zoomed up to Duncan, who caught him lovingly with one arm.

He beamed at the man. "Are you a wizard, sir?"

"Name's Freddy Krueger, kid," the man snickered, amused at the boy's suggestion. "And I'm way better than any magic man out there."