"You're closing my holiday camp? And you're not sure how long it will take? What a joke! Do you know how much I paid for this exclusive camp?"

The hotel owner shouted in disbelief, his face full of anger: "I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on this hotel, and now you want to take it away easily! Impossible, I will never agree to it.

!”

"I don't care how much you spent on your pile of wood." The detective looked the boss up and down, stretched out his finger and tapped his heart, and then pointed to the woods in the distance: "You know what's going on?

How many people died there?"

"A total of 6 people! And someone set off explosives there!"

"There hasn't been a similar vicious case here for a long time, but it happened in your hands. You have to go back with us to accept the investigation."

"What?" There was a hint of astonishment on the boss's face: "Why? You can't do anything!"

"Actually, of course I can." The detective said as he called two of his subordinates to stand beside the boss: "Come with us for a walk."

The hotel owner was completely stunned. He looked at the dark woods and never imagined that such a thing could happen in that damn place.

He wanted to defend himself, but the police car had even stopped beside him.

With the help of Jason and Lincoln, what was supposed to be a fun weekend getaway turned into a night out at the police station.

In the interrogation room of the Springwood Police Station, a policeman named Tom sat in front of Lincoln, holding a pen in one hand and tapping on the notebook in front of him: "Name?"

Lincoln stretched and said boringly: "I came here smuggled in, are you sure you want to ask me these boring questions?"

Tom:???

Raising his head in astonishment, Tom's eyes were full of confusion. He was moved by Lincoln's frankness and integrity: "Are you a smuggler?"

"Of course." Lincoln nodded, then looked behind Constable Tom: "Freddy?"

As night falls, Freddy's time has already arrived. With his innate control over dreams, the seemingly peaceful Springwood Town has already fallen into the torment of nightmares.

Children crying and fearful in their dreams one after another provided Freddy with a steady stream of strength. Behind Tom, in the invisible dream world, Freddy, shrouded in fog, was already excitedly waving his scissor hands and looking at Lincoln.

.

As the Lord of Dreams, Freddy can clearly sense how powerful Lincoln's mental power is. If he can completely convert this power into fear and become the source of his strength, he will be able to spread his notoriety beyond Springwood Town.

place!

Lincoln's powerful mental power made it impossible for Freddy to drag him into the dream, but Freddy came up with a new way, standing in front of Lincoln and inviting him into the dream.

Over at the desk, when he heard Lincoln suddenly mention Freddy's name, Tom paused with the pen in his hand and looked back behind him strangely: "Who are you calling?"

"It's nothing, just someone I know." Lincoln was very casual, just watching Freddy's sharp scissor hands making constant gestures on Tom's neck: "If you have the guts, cut it off, what's the point of just gesticulating?"

"

Tom:???

Looking at Lincoln again, Tom concluded in his heart that this stowaway must be a psychopath.

Behind him, Freddy was stunned.

He had seen many human beings begging him in fear not to kill or torture people, but this was the first time he had seen someone like Lincoln who encouraged him to kill.

Freddy began to wonder if he had been sealed away for so long that the atmosphere on Elm Street had changed.

Oh, there is no Elm Street in Springwood anymore, it was completely renamed and buried.

Freddy, who was deep in thought, didn't notice that Tom closed the notebook and stood up to leave. He thought that he had nothing to talk about with a mentally ill stowaway. Can the confession of a mentally ill person be of reference value?

In the police office, seeing Tom come out of the interrogation room early, an elderly detective was a little strange: "Tom? Have you asked me already?"

"No, he said he was a stowaway. I suspect he is mentally ill. It would be better to wait and see the hospital."

"Mental illness?"

Hearing what Tom said, the old detective immediately became interested. He knew many cases of people getting away with crimes under the guise of mental illness. Although the current situation was different, he was still interested.

Seeing the detective's interest, Tom nodded and led him towards the interrogation room. On the way, the old detective was a little curious: "What are his symptoms like?"

Tom pondered for a moment: "He started by saying that he was a smuggler, and in the middle he said something about Freddy doing something..."

"What?!"

Tom thought it was just a trivial matter, but the detective's eyes suddenly opened wide. He grabbed Tom's arm with such force that Tom's face twisted: "Freddy? Are you sure you heard that right?"

"Of course." Tom didn't know why: "He only said three sentences in total. I can't remember it wrong."

"Damn it!" The detective's expression changed drastically. He didn't even bother to go to the interrogation room and hurriedly ran to his office.

Freddy had been away from Elm Street for a long time, but the detective had always kept that special drug in a drawer in his office just in case.

He was going to take some medicine and ask Lincoln how he knew Freddy's name.

The detective walked quickly, but a stronger sleepiness suddenly emerged. This sleepiness was so fierce and unstoppable, like a devouring black tide, that his consciousness gradually sank.

In the dream world that ordinary people cannot see, Freddy waved the sharp knife made of steel and made a scratching sound. He raised one hand and drove the ubiquitous fog towards the police station.

The crowd enveloped it.

The mist, like an invisible ghost touch, grabs their souls and sinks them into dreams, causing their bodies to fall into a deep sleep.

Normally, Freddy would always choose children as the targets of his toy, because they are easily scared and vulnerable enough.

Unlike those damn adults who would often burst out with courage that he couldn't understand in extreme situations to smooth out the fear in their hearts.

Compared to children, he doesn't often drag adults into dreams to torture them, but if there are enemies among them who have defeated him and made him weak, then that's another story.

He had vowed countless times when he was weak that he would give back the same torture to those who had brought him humiliation and pain.

Now seeing the figure that has been deeply ingrained in my mind, anger surged into my heart at this moment, and the power gained from the child exploded at this moment, roaring out like a sweeping wave: "Come in!"

It was like taking an overdose of sleeping pills, staying up late and the negative effects of age made the detective visibly start to doze off.

His eyelids were glued downward involuntarily, as if they were smeared with glue. Even if he pinched his flesh hard, he couldn't stop the sleepiness from coming.

Freddy's specialty is invading dreams and exploiting people's weaknesses to defeat their hearts and capture their fears.

Forcibly pulling people into dreams like this is not what he is good at. It will consume a lot of his energy, but it doesn't matter anymore.

His cruelty to the detective was worth the price he paid, and Freddy could smell fear from the old detective in front of him who had stopped him before.

The increase in age has made the detective more knowledgeable, but at the same time, the things he fears have also increased.

The detective knew what Freddy's abilities were, and he knew even more clearly that once he fell asleep, he might never have a chance to wake up. He looked at his arm that was almost bleeding from being pinched, and a cruel look suddenly appeared on his face.

Bang!

Loud gunshots echoed in the closed police station, and the little finger that was broken by the bullet fell to the ground.

The pain from his fingers to his heart instantly caused a layer of sweat to break out all over the detective's body. His body was trembling, and the drowsy sleep was driven back by the severe pain.

Holding the blood vessel at the root of the wound with one hand, the detective did not care about treating the wound or stopping the bleeding. He staggered into the office and poured the pills he had saved into his mouth.

He didn't know how many pills he had taken, but he was not pulled into a dream until he finished treating the wound with a pale face.

The specific medicine has no name. Its only purpose is to stimulate the brain nerves of the person to enter an excited state. Before the medicine is metabolized in the body, the physiological effect will make the user unable to sleep.

Even if he is about to die suddenly due to not sleeping for a long time, it is still better than dying under Fred's torture!

...

Drowsiness swept over him, and Tom, who was no more defensive than the detective, fell into a dream state from which he could not wake up in just a few seconds.

The police station was still the same as before, but a hazy fog seemed to fill the air, and orange-yellow flames began to dance in the corners of the police station, burning the walls of the room into patches of black.

trace.

The sudden change in the environment made Tom feel uneasy. He tried to find the detective, but the detective who was standing in front of him a few seconds ago had disappeared without a trace.

The unknown and mystery formed a web, pulling fear from the bottom of his heart to the surface.

Fear and uneasiness emerged in his heart, and Tom subconsciously moved toward the interrogation room where he thought someone was. However, before he could take a few steps, a black shadow walked out of the fog-shrouded corridor in the distance.

Wearing a brown-black top hat and a red and green horizontal striped sweater, one right hand is a sharp iron claw made of metal.

Amidst the sound of metal claws constantly rubbing, Freddy, who looked ugly and ferocious due to the burning of the flames, appeared in front of Tom.

With just one glance, the fear in Tom's heart was aroused, and like a volcano erupting, a trace of joy appeared on Freddy's face: "Not bad, not bad!"

Looking at Freddy who looked as ferocious as a devil, Tom subconsciously took out the pistol from his waist and pointed it at Freddy: "Who are you! Stop, stop! Don't move! Otherwise I will shoot!"

"

Freddy looked at Tom, his face full of crazy joy, and his scissor hands rubbed faster in the air. The flames that were originally only faint began to expand rapidly, surrounding the entire corridor like a sea of ​​​​fire and hell: "

Let’s get started, I can’t wait!”

The sound of fire was heard, and the fear on Tom's face was evident. Even if he still held the gun in his hand, it could not bring him the slightest sense of security: "You, don't come over! I'm going to shoot!"

"Shoot?" Freddy laughed and twisted his dream: "I bet there are no bullets in your gun."

"Impossible!" Tom shouted with his eyes wide open. Watching Freddy take steps, he suddenly pulled the trigger.

Click!

The sound of the empty box made Tom's face stiffen, and he almost couldn't breathe as he watched Freddy press forward step by step.

The burning air suffocated him, the flames burned his skin, Freddy's sharp knife caused him pain, and Tom's consciousness began to fade away.
To be continued...