DISCLAIMER

Belongs to Wes Craven, New Line Cinema, and CBS. I only own the plot.

That night, the team met in their hotel suite, which had adjoining rooms, one for the men and the other for the women.

"Well, what do you guys make of it?" Morgan wondered.

"Well, Officer Thompson seemed pretty uptight," Dr. Reid stated.

"Yeah, she made it crystal clear that she did not want our help," Prentiss agreed.

"But they all seem to know what's going on," Rossi commented.

"If that's the case, why wouldn't they let us help them?" J.J. wondered.

"Yeah, it's weird all right," Morgan mused. Then, he stretched and yawned. "Excuse me everyone, but I think I'm gonna hit the sack," he stated.

"Night," the others said. The man then went into the boys' room and lay down on a bed. Within minutes, he was asleep. Morgan looked around the hallway. What was this place, and how had he gotten here?

"Hello?" he questioned as he started down the hall. Something hissed and Morgan jumped before he realized that it was just the pipes above his head. SCREE! The officer flinched at the ear-splitting sound. What was going on?

"Hello?" he asked again. The only answer was another screech. Morgan unstrapped his gun from his holster and pointed the weapon in the direction of the sound. "Who's there?" he questioned.

"Help me! Help me, please!" he heard a girl shout in fright. He quickened his pace. As he did so, he heard kids singing.

One, two, Freddy's coming for you.

Three, four, better lock your door.

Five, six, grab your crucifix.

Seven, eight, gonna stay up late.

Nine, ten, never sleep again.

"Hello? Is someone here?" he questioned.

"Help me! I'm over here!" the girl shouted. He headed for the voice. "Hurry! Please, hurry!" the girl cried. Morgan continued on his way, but stopped when he finally saw a girl about eight years old.

"Honey, are you okay?" he asked, keeping the gun pointed away from her.

"We have to hurry. He's coming," the girl said.

"What is this place?" Derek wondered.

"Come on, we better hurry," the girl answered, ignoring the question. Though suspicious, he followed her. As he did so, the screes continued and the pipes hissed. "Hurry, this way!" the girl urged, quickening her pace. When they finally stopped, Derek was dismayed to find that they were at a dead end.

"Hey, is this supposed to be a joke?" he demanded. The girl giggled. "Oh, this isn't a joke…" Before the officer's astonished eyes, she began to grow taller into she had turned into a man wearing a brown fedora and a dirty red-and-green sweater. "Detective," the man growled. Derek quickly raised his gun and fired. The man disappeared in a cloud of smoke. What the--? Where'd he go? Morgan wondered. Without warning, his gun was knocked to the ground. With a gasp, he turned around. To his surprise, the man was standing in front of him without even a scratch. The officer lashed out with a punch, which surprisingly made the man stagger. The officer took advantage of the momentary lull to run off. SCREE! Derek gasped.

"Somebody, help me!" he cried. He heard the man laugh. Then, cries of terror filled the air. What's going on around here? he wondered.

"Hey, help! Help! AAAAAH!" a boy screamed. Suddenly, Derek felt himself pitching forward and he fell down a flight of stairs. There was a chuckle. When Derek looked up, he found himself staring at the man from before.

"Who--who are you?" he asked. The man only laughed again, and raised his right hand. Derek's eyes widened at the four gleaming blades. Then, he struck.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" With a gasp, Derek bolted straight up.