Capítulo 126: Chapter 124: A Nightmare on Elm Street
The night air was thick with the scent of burnt flesh and fear as Jon, his form now human once more, turned to face the young man who had witnessed the impossible. Tommy's eyes were wide, his body trembling as he stumbled backward, the grass of the cemetery crunching beneath his feet.
"Don't panic, Tommy," Jon said, his voice a calm contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. "Isn't this the scene you've always wanted to see? Watching Jason go to hell with your own eyes!" He gestured towards the smoldering remains of what was once an unstoppable force.
"Who... who are you?!" Tommy's voice cracked, the terror unmistakable.
"You've just seen for yourself," Jon replied, the corners of his mouth turning up in a knowing smile. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Tommy to grapple with the reality that had shattered around him.
Tommy watched, his heart pounding in his chest, as Jon's car pulled away from the cemetery, its taillights disappearing into the night. He was alone now, the silence of the graveyard enveloping him, a stark reminder of the horror he had just witnessed.
***
Inside the car, Jon's mind was racing. "American Horror Stories? Jason?" He mulled over the information he had gathered in this strange world. The dashboard's glow illuminated his thoughtful expression as he navigated the dark roads.
"If nothing goes wrong, this should be a compilation of multiple American horror movies," he mused, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Killing Jason was just the first task, and so far, there's no hint of a second task. Should I trigger the task by myself?"
The idea was a seed, and as he drove, it began to sprout. "If that's the case, then the next stop is Elm Street!" The smile that crept across his face was one of anticipation. He could feel the pull of the challenge, the thrill of the hunt.
Elm Street was infamous in its own right, a place where the lines between reality and nightmare blurred into a terrifying tapestry. And if Jason was a part of this world, then surely Freddy Krueger, the dream-stalking boogeyman, was lurking in its shadows.
***
[Ding! A new task has been assigned, Task Two: Eliminate the horror Freddy Krueger of Elm Street. Completion of the task rewards 500 penalty points, failure results in no new tasks being issued in the current world (current progress 0/1)]
Jon's sleek sports car purred through the streets of Springwood Town, its futuristic lines and roaring engine a stark contrast to the quaint suburban backdrop of the 1980s. Heads turned and whispers followed as he asked for directions, the GPS on his dashboard guiding him to the infamous Elm Street.
As he pulled up to the curb in front of a nondescript motel, the neon sign flickered, casting an eerie glow on the pavement. That's when he saw her, a woman whose presence seemed to command the night itself. She leaned against the motel's wall, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips, her eyes fixed on Jon as he emerged from the car.
"Looking for some fun, darling?" she asked, her voice a sultry melody that danced on the smoky air. She smiled, a playful tease in her tone, and exhaled a cloud of smoke in his direction.
Cough!
"Keep that smoke away from me!" Jon's voice was firm, his expression unamused by the unwanted advance. "And I'm not interested!"
Her smile faltered, her eyes narrowing as she flicked the cigarette to the ground, the embers dying out against the concrete. She turned on her heel, muttering under her breath about the arrogance of rich men and their fancy cars.
Jon watched her leave before he approached the motel counter, his mind already weaving through the task at hand. "I need a room, please," he said, his voice betraying none of the urgency he felt inside.
"Sure, please fill out this form," the staff member replied, extending a pen and paper towards Jon with a respectful nod.
As Jon filled out the form, his lips moved silently, reciting the haunting rhyme that had become synonymous with the terror of Elm Street. "One, two, Freddy's coming for you; three, four, better lock your door..."
The staff member handed Jon the key, his curiosity piqued by the strange mutterings. "Excuse me... what are you saying?"
"You wouldn't want to know," Jon replied, taking the key and heading towards the stairs, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Five, six, grab your crucifix; seven, eight, better stay awake..."
The staff member shook his head, dismissing the odd behavior of yet another guest. "Crazy," he muttered to himself, turning back to the mundane tasks of his night shift.
Meanwhile a middle-aged man's gaze in the lobby lingered on Jon as he ascended the stairs, his furrowed brows betraying a mix of recognition and concern. The nursery rhyme had struck a nerve, a dark chord from a past that the town of Springwood knew all too well.
Meanwhile, Jon's refusal to let the staff member park his car had left a sour taste, but the man's attention was quickly diverted by the newspaper reader's ominous words.
"You should be thankful, buddy. You're better off not getting involved with that guy!" the reader said, his voice low and serious.
"Why?" the staff member inquired, his curiosity piqued.
The man leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried the weight of a dreadful secret. "Not far from here is a mental hospital, and some of the children there often sing this nursery rhyme for no reason. That man is obviously from out of town, but the rhyme he was singing is exactly the same as the one those kids sing!"
A shiver ran down the staff member's spine, the eerie coincidence of the rhyme unsettling him more than he cared to admit. He watched Jon disappear upstairs, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.
Upstairs, Jon entered his room, a spartan space that offered little comfort. He shed his coat and lay on the bed, his mind focused on the task at hand. "Now, it's just a matter of waiting for Freddy to come to me," he thought, his eyes staring at the ceiling.
Jon understood the rules of this world. Freddy Krueger thrived on fear, on the power given to him by the memories and terror of those who whispered his name. By reciting the nursery rhyme, Jon was issuing a challenge, a beacon for the dream demon to home in on.
He knew that Freddy often preyed on the young, their fears ripe for the harvest. But Jon was no child, and his fear was not for Freddy to feed on. It was bait, and Jon was the hunter lying in wait.
As the night deepened, Jon's recitation of the rhyme became a silent mantra. He closed his eyes, his breathing steady, inviting the dreamscape to take shape around him. He was ready to confront Freddy in his own realm, to turn the hunter into the hunted.
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you; three, four, better lock your door; five, six, grab your crucifix; seven, eight, better stay awake; nine, ten, never sleep again!"
Jon lay in his bed, the sheets twisted around his legs, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. The nursery rhyme he had been reciting in a whisper had become a mantra, a desperate incantation for sleep that refused to come.
"Hmm... the more I want to sleep, the harder it is to fall asleep," Jon muttered to the shadows that danced across his room. He turned his head, glancing at the clock. The red digits seemed to mock him: 3:07 AM. A sigh escaped his lips, a sound of surrender. He felt helpless, trapped in the limbo between wakefulness and the elusive escape of slumber.
With a sense of resignation, Jon reached for the Elder Wand that lay hidden beneath his pillow. The ancient artifact felt cool to the touch, thrumming with a power that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
"Somnus," With a whispered word, he cast the spell, and the room seemed to pulse with the magic of the incantation. A wave of drowsiness washed over him, gentle as a mother's caress, and Jon's eyes fluttered closed. He surrendered to the spell, and the world faded away.
Time lost all meaning as Jon floated in the void of dreams. When he next opened his eyes, he was no longer in his bed but standing on a dark, deserted street. The air was cool and carried the scent of impending doom. Streetlights flickered above him, casting an eerie glow on the pavement. This was Elm Street, and there was only one possibility then: Freddy had made his move.
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