"I feel like I've seen you somewhere before."
Even though the woman standing just a few feet away was a stranger, Barrry couldn't shake off a strange sense of familiarity. It wasn't because of her good looks—it was something deeper, something faintly spiritual that tugged at the back of his mind.
That odd sensation made him turn to look at her, silently and intently.
From the outside, however, his stare looked… a bit too intense.
"Sir, is there a reason you're staring at me like that?" The woman with long, wavy hair—Nancy Thompson—frowned slightly.
Even though Barrry looked like a movie star—his dark shades hiding his eyes but not his good looks—staring at someone in silence like that? Yeah, that was creepy.
And for someone like Nancy, who worked as a psychiatrist, she was extra sensitive to that kind of thing.
"Sorry," Barrry replied coolly. "I'm blind. Thought I was looking at a friend."
He lied without so much as a twitch.
Nancy wasn't completely convinced. Something about his "blind" gaze didn't feel right, but she let it go.
First day on the job, she thought. Let's just hope it goes smoothly.
The elevator kept descending.
Clang! The doors opened with a mechanical chime.
Her floor.
But before anyone could step out—
"Ahhhhh! Stay away from me!"
A young blonde girl in a hospital gown came sprinting toward the elevator, screaming her head off, a small surgical knife clutched in her bandaged hand.
Nobody knew how she'd gotten hold of the blade, but right now, that was the least of anyone's concerns. She was hysterical, and several nurses and orderlies were chasing her down the hall.
"Close the doors! Close them!" someone shouted.
The cry only seemed to drive the girl faster.
Run. Run. Just a little further and I can get out of here!
The knife-wielding patient—Kristen—charged forward like her life depended on it.
Nancy froze. Great, she thought. First day on the job and I'm already in a horror movie.
Seeing someone with a knife sprinting straight at her, Nancy instinctively stepped back into the elevator and ducked behind Barrry.
The small space suddenly got even smaller, and everyone huddled in the corners while Barrry—"the blind guy"—was left standing at the front.
That strange feeling came over him again. The blonde girl running toward him looked… oddly familiar.
"Barrry!" Maria hissed, trying to snap him out of it.
Behind his dark glasses, Barrry's eyes narrowed in frustration.
Seriously? I'm supposed to be blind here! And you people are hiding behind me? Have you no shame?
What is this, some cliché action flick where I suddenly become the hero?
Kristen was only one step away from the elevator now.
Closer. Closer.
Then—her foot slipped.
Wearing only blue hospital socks, she lost her balance and fell forward, the knife thrusting straight toward Barrry's stomach.
In an instant, before the blade could tear through his brand-new suit, Barrry moved with reflexes that no "blind man" should have—sidestepping and catching her mid-fall.
With one swift motion, he grabbed her wrist, twisted it, and snatched the knife from her hand.
In a heartbeat, the tables had turned.
"Don't move," Barrry said, his tone calm and steady. "You're under arrest."
The sunglasses reflected her terrified, flushed face.
"I… I didn't mean to—" Kristen stammered, her heart racing. She'd been sure she'd stabbed him, but somehow he'd stopped her—strong, composed, and absurdly handsome.
Then, from that close distance, she saw it.
Through the gap where his sunglasses had slipped, she caught a glimpse of his golden eyes—eyes that didn't look human.
"This is a dream," she whispered. "It's a dream! Let me go!"
Clack!
Her flailing hand accidentally knocked his sunglasses off completely.
Before she could scream again, Barrry shut his eyes and pinned her against the elevator wall, restraining her effortlessly.
Her cheek squished against the cold metal, her voice trembling: "Dream… nine… ten… never sleep…"
Her arms were locked behind her like a suspect being subdued by a cop.
"Old condition flaring up again," Barrry muttered, expression unreadable. "Poor kid… so young too."
Moments later, the nurses finally arrived, rushing in to take Kristen away.
She kept thrashing, crying out, "It's all a dream! You can't fool me! I don't wanna go back! I can't tell what's real anymore!"
One of the nurses handed Barrry his sunglasses.
"I think these are yours," Nancy said softly, a small, polite smile tugging at her lips. "Hard to believe someone 'blind' can move like that."
"Oh, thanks." Barrry slipped the glasses back on. "My eyes may not see—but my heart sees plenty."
Nancy chuckled. "Do you know me?"
"No," he said smoothly. "I just overheard your name."
"Fair enough. I'm Nancy Thompson," she said, offering a handshake.
"Barrry," he replied, shaking her hand.
Ding!
The elevator reached the first floor.
"Sorry, I've gotta run. First-day nerves," Nancy said with a grin.
"No problem. Take care, Miss Thompson," Barrry said, waving as she stepped off. Then he added with a faint smile, "If you ever run into trouble—try calling my name. Sometimes… it actually works."
Nancy laughed lightly. "I'll keep that in mind."
He remembered now.
That strange familiarity—it was Freddy's energy. Faint, but there.
As someone who'd fought the dream demon many times, Barrry recognized it instantly.
So, Freddy had made it back from the dead too.
"Heh," Barrry muttered under his breath. "This might get interesting."