Chapter 3: The First Battle
Caught in the vampire's vicelike grip, Freddy spat, "Ah, no, NO! Y-you can't do this to me . . . .
"I'm the master of the Dream World!"
"That's as may be," Dracula conceded. "But my own dream powers - while perhaps not as . . . comprehensive as your own - are more than adequate enough to defeat a low demon such as yourself.
"Now, 'bogeyman,' feel the wrath of Dracula . . . ."
The scene around them changed, and Freddy realized that they were no longer inside the castle's throne room in the vampire's dreamscape, but rather were now in a wooded clearing, barely lit by the Full Moon feebly shining through the high tree canopy.
The vampire threw Freddy to the ground with enough force to momentarily stun the bogeyman. Just as Freddy was trying to stand, Dracula let out a wolf-like howl to the Moon. Seconds later, Freddy saw many pairs of red eyes appear at the tree line. Then about a dozen, large grey wolves came snarling into the clearing, completely surrounding the bogeyman, howling at the Moon in response to their vampire master's summoning.
"My wolves," said Dracula. "My Children of the Night. What music they make . . . ." Dracula then barked out an order in Magyar, and the wolves closed around Freddy. Then, the Alpha Wolf howled and leapt for Freddy's throat.
But Freddy was quick to react. Raising his fearsome Glove, the bogeyman clicked his blades, and the wolf transformed in mid-air into a lamb that bleated in agony as Freddy promptly disemboweled it when it flew past, the carcass landing on the ground with a moist thud.
"Who's next . . . ?" Snarked Freddy.
The other wolves growled at Freddy, but with another click of his raised Glove, they likewise transformed into lambs, and then promptly scurried off into the woods with terrified "baas."
"Impressive, bogeyman," said Dracula. "But, how shall you fare against . . . my rats . . . ?"
At Dracula's word, a vast army of rats came swarming out of the woods and were on Freddy in seconds, biting and scratching the bogeyman as he flailed about wildly, trying to get them off.
"Devour him, my loyal servants," commanded Dracula, as he watched his adversary writhe in agony. Soon, the vampire could not even see the bogeyman for the mound of rats that had covered him completely. But then, the bogeyman's screams stopped, only to be replaced by the sound of a pipe playing a jaunty tune.
As this happened, the rats all seemed to "pour" off of the bogeyman, and when they did, Dracula saw that Freddy's appearance had changed. Though his skin remained horribly burned, the bogeyman now wore a pied minstrel's costume, and his bladed Glove had taken the form of a musical pipe. As he played his tune, the rats all began to circle around him, dancing to the music of the pipes.
Dracula then watched as a hole opened up in the ground nearby, filling with water that immediately began spinning like a whirlpool. Once this started, the rats formed a single-file line, and danced to their doom into the spinning water. Moments later, no rats remained, and the whirlpool itself vanished as if it had never been there.
The vampire also noticed that the pipes the bogeyman used to charm the rats had once again become a bladed Glove. A blink later, the pied minstrel suit was once again the filthy brown pants and sweater with its red and green stripes.
Freddy glared at Dracula, but resisted the urge to laugh. The bogeyman could feel the vampire's resistance as he ensorcelled the rats to make them drown themselves. No, the vampire's dream-powers were not as strong as those Freddy had acquired from the Dream Demons. But they were still a force to be reckoned with, all the same.
Taking advantage of the vampire's momentary surprise, Freddy decided to make his move. "I've heard about what happens to you vamps these days during the daytime, but I don't believe it, and I wanna see for myself if it's really true . . . ." Freddy brandished his Glove, and with a click of the blades, Dracula's dreamscape abruptly shifted from night to day, making the vampire roar in pain as the bright, warm sunlight hit him, making him burst into flames.
"Sparkle for me, bitch . . . ," said Freddy, who then laughed maniacally at the vampire's pain.
"THIS IS NOT REAL," said the burning vampire. "THIS IS BUT A DREAM!"
Freddy had heard words like this before, from the mouths of dying teenagers as he plunged the blades of his fearsome Glove into their vulnerable bodies. But there was something about the way the vampire spoke these words that gave Freddy reason to be concerned. And Freddy was right to be worried.
What the bogeyman's teenage victims had always said with desperate hope; the vampire had spoken as a statement of fact. And the fact was that despite the dreamworld sunlight, the sunlight-ignited flames engulfing the vampire had vanished without a trace, and the vampire's burned skin was beginning to heal at a rapid rate, until no traces of the burns remained.
"I see your will is strong," conceded Dracula. "But . . . my will is stronger!"
Freddy felt a slight rumble beneath his feet, and jumped to one side just in time to avoid being impaled on a long stake that erupted from the ground on the very place he stood seconds before.
But no sooner did the bogeyman move to the side; he then had to move yet again as another stake shot from the ground where he stood. Again and again, this happened; like in those old Westerns where the gunslinger forced his hapless victim to 'dance' as he shot at the ground near his feet.
"Stop that, you bloodsucking bitch!" roared Freddy, as he once again dodged another stake erupting from the ground. But in the time it took the bogeyman to complain, another stake shot from the ground; this one finding its mark, impaling Freddy through his belly, and hoisting him eight feet above the ground, silencing him in the process as it emerged from his mouth.
Dracula glared at his impaled adversary. "Finally, you are silenced, bogeyman! Your incessant chatter ground at my nerves. Would that this truly was the end of our conflict; but though we have wounded each other, we are yet unable to slay each other; at least in the dream world.
"At best, we have fought to a stalemate."
Freddy tried to talk back, but could not do so with his mouth full of rough-hewn stake that dislocated his jaw as it went through his mouth on the way out.
Dracula shook his head. "But for now, I grow bored with this tedious, tit-for-tat exchange. I shall awaken now, and leave you to extract yourself from my stake.
"But when we next meet, Fred Krueger; you may rest assured that I shall have found the means to defeat you, once and for all, bogeyman!"
And with that, the vampire vanished from the dream world; which – without Dracula's influence – transformed from Dracula's Transylvanian Forest back into the familiar boiler room of Freddy Krueger. At the same time, the stake vanished, and Freddy fell eight feet, landing on the concrete floor with a hard "thud."
Seconds later, the wounds from being impaled healed, and Freddy Krueger stood among his pipes and boilers, once again whole, and seething with raw anger.
"I'll look forward to our rematch, tomorrow morning, you bloodsucking bitch!" Freddy growled.
But Freddy realized that the vampire had been right; neither of them had any practical way to actually destroy the other. Without something to tip the scales, there was no reason why their next encounter would possibly end in anything but another draw.
Freddy could feel the rage well-up from inside him. But before he could explode in a self-destructive tantrum, Freddy sensed something different; something that he had not sensed in a very, very long time.
Freddy sensed potential, teenage victims. And soon, it would be nightfall . . . .