Duncan quietly, shakily gripped the basement door handle with his free hand, turning it slowly and pushing open the door in silence. There, standing in the light flooded kitchen at the counter cracking open a beer and chugging it down greedily, was his stepfather. A broken mug was on the floor.

Steadying his breathing he tiptoed inside the room, hiding the small bat behind his back.

"Uh... d- daddy?" he spoke softly. The man spun around, looking drunk with sunken eyes and waxy skin. He was barely holding the half full beer bottle as he glared, breath reeking of alchohol.

"What the fuck is it you sorry shit?" he snarled, voice slurred as he took another drink. Duncan innocently walked up to him, being a suprisingly good actor for a seven year old.

"I uh... there was a- a man," Duncan said quietly.

"A man where?" his stepfather slurred, glaring harshly.

"In my dream," Duncan continued. "His name was... Freddy." His step father tensed ever so slightly at these words. "Freddy Krueger."

"The man smirked drunkenly, swaying back and forth on his heals. "Hope he kills you." Another gulp of beer.

"Oh yes, he will daddy," Duncan lied. "But he told me to... deliver a... message. From him to you."

"And what might that be?" his step father said, bending down for Duncan to tell him. At that he struck; with inhuman agility he set both hands upon the bat and swung it as hard as he could at the man's lowered head.

The swing wasn't strong enough to bring blood, but was enough to leave a good sized bruise and knock him out for a while. His stepfather landed against the counter, out cold. The beer bottle fell from his limp hand, clattering to the floor and breaking open, the small amount of alchohol spreading rapidly across the tiled floor.

Duncan dropped the bat, it clanking to the ground as he raced back down the basement, slamming the door shut in the process. Running three steps at a time down the stairs he nearly tripped, skidding to a halt on the cement floor. Freddy was not there.

In his place was Archie, new and improved. He was fixed up, his arteficial gray fur soft and sleak with both eyes and full ears. A note was with him as Duncan picked him up hugging him tightly. Taking the note as well he tried to make out the letters and words.

It read, "I got the rest handled, kid. Enjoy that toy." Duncan seemed to understand, and smiled brightly.