Chapter 61: Welcome to Springwood
The dead silence in the monitoring room was shattered by harsh static from a radio.
"Lieutenant? Lieutenant? What's... what's going on in there? You need backup?"
Donald Thompson jolted like he'd been dunked in ice water. He shakily grabbed the radio, opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry to make a sound.
How the hell was he supposed to report this?
That the nightmare monster terrorizing his daughter for weeks was dragged out of a dream by some kid who looked like he was barely out of high school, then literally beaten into ash with his bare hands?
If he filed that report, he wouldn't be coming to work tomorrow—he'd be checking into the psych ward.
Inside the cell, Edward dusted off his hands like he'd just finished taking out the trash. He walked over to Nancy, who was still trembling from shock.
"You need to get that hand looked at," Edward said, nodding at the four bleeding puncture wounds.
Nancy glanced down, and the pain finally registered. She winced and nodded.
"Lieutenant Thompson," Edward's voice echoed through the cell's intercom into the monitoring room, "I think you can call the paramedics now. Also, don't forget our deal—this needs a believable cover story."
Donald took a deep breath, forcing himself back into cop mode. He barked into the radio: "Lift lockdown on Cell Block C! Get medical in here to treat the injured! Everyone else, secure the scene! Anyone who breathes a word about what happened tonight gets their badge pulled and shown the door!"
After giving orders, he pushed through the door and, with several equally pale officers, hurried to the cell.
When the reinforced door opened, a faint smell of burning drifted out. Donald's eyes immediately went to the pile of black ash on the floor, then to his unharmed daughter, the unnervingly calm Edward, and Alan, who'd watched the whole thing like it was Netflix.
"Nancy!" He rushed over and pulled his daughter into a tight hug, his voice shaking with relief.
"Dad, I'm okay..." Nancy leaned into her father's arms, her frayed nerves finally giving out, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Within minutes, paramedics rushed in with their kits, quickly treating Nancy's hand. The wounds were deep and looked nasty, but fortunately no permanent damage.
"How'd you get these?" a young EMT asked curiously.
"Caught on some barbed wire," Donald lied smoothly without missing a beat.
The officers present wisely kept their mouths shut.
Edward ignored the emotional father-daughter moment. He walked over to Alan and stretched. "Well, that's done. Honestly? Way weaker than I expected. Not even a decent workout."
Alan nodded in agreement. "He relied too much on dream power. In reality, he was basically a piñata."
Their conversation wasn't loud, but clear enough for the surrounding cops to hear.
They looked at the pile of ash, then at these two kids chatting like they'd just finished a casual errand, and felt their grip on reality slipping.
Donald got Nancy settled and had her follow the ambulance to County General for a full workup.
He walked over to Edward, his expression complicated—gratitude, awe, and undeniable fear all mixed together.
"I... I don't know how to thank you," he said seriously.
"No thanks necessary. We're professionals," Edward waved it off, then shifted gears. "Though, about compensation..."
Donald got it immediately. "Don't worry. I'll put through the highest consultant fee the department allows. And Springwood will always have a place for you."
"Perfect," Edward nodded with satisfaction. "Then if we're done here, we're heading out. Been up all night—we're starving."
With that, he and Alan calmly walked out of the station under the stunned stares of every cop in the building.
At four AM, Springwood's streets were dead empty, with only streetlights casting dim yellow pools of light.
"Just bouncing like that? I thought you'd give the Lieutenant a crash course on the supernatural or something," Alan walked beside Edward, hands clasped behind her back, steps light and easy.
"Nah, not necessary," Edward shrugged. "He just needs to know some shit's beyond his pay grade. Letting him keep most of his worldview intact is doing him a favor."
They turned a corner and spotted a 24-hour food truck still open. A heavyset middle-aged guy was yawning, getting ready to close up.
"Hey man, two cheeseburgers, two fries, and two large Cokes," Edward called out.
"You got it!" The vendor perked right up.
Soon the hot food was ready. They found a nearby bench and sat down, digging into their late-night meal like nothing unusual had happened.
"So did you actually grab that glove?" Alan asked around a mouthful of fries.
"Yep." Edward pulled the steel-clawed glove from his jacket and set it on the bench. Under the streetlight, the four blades still gleamed with menacing intent.
"This thing's saturated with rage and fear—decent cursed artifact. Useless to me, though," Edward commented while demolishing his burger.
After finishing their food, the sky was already turning that pale pre-dawn gray.
"Let's find a place to crash," Edward stood and stretched. "Tomorrow we'll check out the town. After dealing with small fry like that, we've earned some R&R."
They checked into the only motel in town. The room was small but clean enough.
Edward and Alan didn't sleep right away. He sat on the bed examining the steel claw glove, seemingly trying to clean it up; she stood by the window watching the town slowly wake up.
Springwood. Elm Street.
After a night of chaos, it seemed to have returned to normal.
Sunlight filtered through the elm trees, casting dappled shadows on the pavement. Early risers started their morning jogs, and the paperboy cruised by on his bike, whistling. Everything looked peaceful.
Nobody would've guessed that just a few hours ago, a dream demon that had plagued this place for years got completely obliterated in the most brutal way possible.
"I saw a lot of interesting things through the mirrors," Alan's voice carried a hint of dark amusement. "A lot of... dormant rage, suppressed madness, and some... things that definitely aren't human."
Edward stopped what he was doing and looked up.
"Oh yeah? Sounds like we've got plenty more hunting grounds lined up."
"Pretty much," Alan turned from the window and leaned against the sill. "But for you, it's probably like finding a really fun playground, right?"
Edward grinned, showing teeth.
"Now that you mention it, I'm actually looking forward to it."
Springwood, Ohio—population 5,247.
Known for: Elm Street, quiet suburban living, and a dark history best left buried.
Current supernatural threat level: Significantly reduced.
Recommended for: Monster hunters looking for easy work and decent diner food.
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