The snow fell lightly past the tall windows of the lobby of The BOO (or the Overlook Hotel, if you were that kind of technical person).

The Captain sat on the right of a square hall with tall, red poles around the yellow tiled floor. He sat on the chair, typing on his jet-black typewriter, sitting over a model of the green hedged labyrinth in front of the hotel.

He sat next to tall windows where white sunlight streamed into the hall and he could see the very real maze looming through the silver mist.

The Captain typed away, just as he usually did, his receding brown hair messy on top, wearing grey and black in the form of a coat and sweater over a white shirt.

"The...hedges..." he muttered, his fingers blasting away at the keys of the typewriter, "are...green."

He stopped for a second. Ripped out the page. Inserted a new one. Cracked his fingers. Started again.

"The...hedges...are...lush," He stopped. Decided to keep going. "Lush...like...the...tops of...palm...trees. Palm...trees...like...bright...limes. Limes...like...a...go-light...on a...traffic light."

He stopped again. Cracked his wrists.

"Stoplights...are...emerald. Emerald...like...Emerald City," He licked his lips. "Yellow...brick...road..."

The red and windowed doors to the room burst open and Morgana Pendragon stormed in, her pale hands in fists.

"Captain!"

"As you can see, I'm a little busy at the moment," the Captain mumbled, now typing the words "Tin Man used to be a Man" across the page.

"As you can see, I don't care," Morgana hissed, standing next to the model, her hands on her hips. "Where is Krueger?"

"Who?"

"Come off it, you're not that stupid,"

"Hey, listen," The Captain finally looked up from his typewriter and into the angry witch's white face. "I came down here for some peace and quiet and I'm feeling so attacked right now."

With the swipe of a long-nailed hand, Morgana ripped the paper from the typewriter and crumpled it into a ball. She held it before the Captain's eyes and it suddenly burst into flame. The ball of paper dissolved into ashes that Morgana sprinkled across the floor.

"You know, you ain't pretty. You just look that way," the Captain sighed, returning to his typewriter.

She was pretty. Despite having been a literal pile of bones the day before, Lady Morgana Pendragon was tall and pale with strong cheekbones, piercing emerald eyes, and dark hair that was pulled out of her eyes but wild across her shoulders. She wore a black gown and a solid silver necklace with a set of three swirls on the pendant.

"Are you going to answer my question or not?!" she cried. "I want to know where Krueger is!"

"I don't know who you're talking about. Oh, wait, are you talking about the Lieutenant?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, he went down to the pantry,"

"The what?"

"Um, the magical cold closet that keeps our food nice and frozen," the Captain sneered. "You calling me stupid?"

"I'm from the Dark Ages, moron,"

"Without electricity? Yeah, I can see why it's called that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to waste valuable time,"

Morgana huffed and folded her arms. "Why did the Lieutenant go down to the pantry?"

"Tuning him out is impossible when I want answers as to how I've come back," Morgana spat.

"Uh-huh," Jack had decided to stop listening.

Rolling her eyes, Morgana glanced over at the other side of the room where there was a long buffet of elaborate, sugar-filled sweets including large chocolate cakes, lemon-merengue pies, and stacks of frosted cupcakes.

"Are those for this evening's dinner?" she inquired. The General Hannibal had already chased her into an elevator and handed her an OCD-riddled schedule of everything that occurred in the Overlook Hotel.

"Consider that breakfast, honey," Jack drawled.

Morgana considered it. She also considered stabbing Captain Jack Torrance in the neck where he sat.

The doors to the hall opened and the Lieutenant Fred Krueger strode in, stretching.

"Mornin',"

He was holding a yellow box under his right arm and approached the Captain and Morgana. There was a wide grin across his burnt face.

"Hey, Captain, do you want one of these deep-fried butter sticks I found in the pantry?"

"Is the pantry, by any chance, trying to kill you?" The Captain asked, hands pausing over his typewriter.

Krueger shrugged. "Alright, suit yourself. Hello, Morgana. Did you sleep alright after your little vision?"

"Who told you about that? That was supposed to be between Lecter and I!" Morgana snapped.

The Lieutenant sighed. He was much taller than her. Lanky and long-armed, his burned face was pointed beneath his dark fedora and his ugly red and green striped sweater hung on him like a curtain, strapped to his body by mere suspenders. His right hand was a complicated business, especially when it came to washing his face, as it had long Wolverine-like blades attached to a leather glove.

"Well, you know, since the General told the Tracker, things escalate. And it's difficult to hide the fact that you had a vision about three ancient seers telling you that there's an All-Knower here in Charactia who will destroy everything we've built," he said calmly.

Morgana stamped her foot. "Why did he tell Pennyflies?"

"Pennywise, kid. One can only assume he told the Tracker so that he could, you know, do his job and track the All-Knower Alice?"

"Perhaps if Lecter hadn't lost her in the first place, he hadn't needed to push the responsibility upon an inferior," Morgana said. "It's lazy."

"Eh. Pushing responsibilities because he's lazy is something the General eats for breakfast," the Lieutenant sighed. "Anyway, I wouldn't blame the Tracker for spilling your story. He got interrogated by the Secretary and I think she forced him to spill. Because...gossip, y'all."

"The Secretary smells drama better than better than Burton Guster smells crime," Jack groaned. "The Tracker's weak when it comes to keeping secrets and the Secretary's ruthless."

"She's the one covered in swine's blood, correct?" Morgana asked.

"Oh is that what that is? I thought it was spaghetti sauce," Jack said.

The Lieutenant did a slow turn on him.

"How in the world would anyone get covered in that much spaghetti sauce?"

"How in the world would anyone get covered in that much swine's blood?" the Captain asked.

Krueger rolled his eyes and opened his box of fried butter-sticks by dragging a long sharp finger across the top, slicing the cardboard latch in two. He shook his hand and gritted his teeth, holding out the box to Morgana.

"Last chance. These'll be gone by tonight,"

She shook her head and stormed across the room to where the table of vibrant sweets were. Krueger attempted the offer to Jack, who didn't even glance up while he said-

"Unlike you, I am not willing to risk my colon's health over those stupid things,"

"Wimp," Krueger sneered over his shoulder, making his way to the dessert table with a stiffly held Morgana.

"Die lonely," Jack hissed.

Morgana was examining a large pink cupcake when the Lieutenant reached the table. He set the box of butter-sticks down on the table and leaned against it with one hand on his hip. He smiled at the look of frustration on the witch's face.

"I don't want to be here," she snarled.

"I know. Unfortunately, I can't fix it,"

Giving him a sideways glare, Morgana peeled the vanilla cupcake wrapper in a circular motion.

"You know," Krueger whispered, "not everyone in this hotel is as friendly as I. And to be frank, I question how things are run just about every day. But what the General says is law and if he wants to capture this Alice kid, that's what we gotta do."

"The Disir gave me a warning that I am intended to uphold!" Morgana snarled through her teeth.

"Who's intending you to uphold it? The only one forcing you to uphold anything, sweetie, is you," Krueger said. "If you want a kingdom, if you want a portion of Charactia when we take it, then you have to do as we say. It's a good deal."

"Being a slave is not a good deal!"

"You've been here for literally six hours. Could you at least spend a week in this place before becoming so darn cynical? I don't trust anyone, kid, so I get it but-"

"You didn't wake up in a strange place being held against your will!" Morgana shouted.

Silence. The witch bit a part of the cupcake and said nothing as she placed the remaining pastry on the table. She glared up at the Lieutenant, her green eyes piercing with fury and murderous thoughts. Krueger blinked a few times and his yellow eyes glittered strangely at her remark.

"I wouldn't mind killing you at this moment," she whispered.

"What makes you think I couldn't kill you first?" Krueger said with a smirk.

"Because no mortal weapon can kill me,"

"Shall we test that theory?"

"I'm more powerful than anyone in this hellhole!"

"True, true, but there are more of us than there are of you. Yes, I am smart enough to do that math. Trust me, kid, this can be done the easy way or the hard way and I don't mind either one. This'll all pay off in the end! You can have whatever kingdom you want once we kill the Doctor and destroy the TARDIS,"

"I want Camelot! It belongs to ME!" Morgana screeched, stomping her foot.

"Excuse me?"

The Lieutenant wheeled around to see the General step through the door, hands folded behind his back, smiling dangerously with Anthony Hopkins' round nose, sticky-out ears, and intense blue eyed stare. His balding grey hair was slicked back as always.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything? Ah, look, pastries!"

He walked towards the table and began to closely examine everything on the table. Krueger and Morgana couldn't help but stare dumbfounded at him. Not because of how overly interested in the sweets he was being. But because this morning he was wearing a dark blue suit with thin red plaid designs, and a red and yellow plaid tie.

"What...is...that?" Krueger pointed to the suit.

"Oh this?" Hannibal straightened up and grinned at his new uniform. "Thought I'd try something new."

Morgana and Krueger slowly turned to look at one another with slightly unnerved expressions. The Lieutenant and all of the monsters in the army knew that the General had never anything either than his asylum uniforms unless it was formal night. And formal night wasn't until next Wednesday.

"Lady Morgana, how are you this morning?" the General questioned with the look of a professional creep. Morgana wrinkled her nose, baring her teeth.

"You've asked me this four times this morning, you stupid-"

"She's doing greeeaaaat!" Krueger interrupted quickly with a forced smile.

"Excellent. Help yourself to this, Lady, we've got unlimited supplies,"

Morgana stared daggers, fists clenched at her dress sides.

Hannibal pointed at Krueger lazily, taking a cupcake with his other. "I'd like to see you in my office, Lieutenant,"

This was met with a dramatic sigh. "Now?"

"Yes, now," Hannibal was still smiling and yet, he was snarling through his teeth.

The Lieutenant looked desperately to Morgana, who simply glared on. Krueger groaned at the ceiling but forced a pleasant look onto his scarred face.

"Yes, sir," Then, he added quickly- "I, uh, do love the suit!"

"Oh thank you!" Hannibal spoke loudly, obviously so Morgana would hear him. "It was mine in the 80s,"

Krueger gasped with a smile. "Aw! Vintage! So adorable!"

A smug look crossed the General's face as he turned and walked towards the door. "Thank you!"

Once Hannibal was out of earshot, Krueger ceased grinning and looked at Morgana with a look of boredom and disgust.

"That is the ugliest effing suit I have ever seen,"

Lecter's office was on the third floor in a former janitor's closet. This was mainly because any time Hannibal attempted to set up base in a hotel room, he came back to a trashed mess with a note from the Twins saying- "No one likes your stupid office,".

Krueger found in incredibly funny that his boss was trapped in a janitor's closet. In fact, the only two who didn't find it funny was butt-kissing Scout Michael Myers and Hannibal himself.

Except for the electrical cabinets and pipes, the walls were covered in various photos of people and locations (drawn by the General himself), newspaper clippings about serial killers, and several posters that analyzed the many systems of the human body.

Behind the dark oak desk (where the only things upon it was a single lamp, notebook, and tray of tall Chianti with two glasses) was leather black arm chair, and behind that was the bright neon pink Revenge Board.

The Revenge Board was plastered with graffitied pictures of Clarice Starling. The General had intended every one of his monsters to have a board with their archenemy on it, so that they may vandalize and take out their anger. However, everyone had been uninterested except for the Twins. But there was no way he was making them one.

Hannibal rounded the desk and sunk into the armchair, straightening his tartan tie. He gestured to the tiny metal stool on the other side and Krueger sat on it, knees up to his chest.

"We're out of ice cream," Lecter said with a frown.

"Oh geez, yeah. I noticed the pantry was running a little low when I went down there's three days ago. And you know, we just bought some new Chapman's mint and I'm telling you, those twins ate all of it," Krueger groaned. "So if we could buy some Rocky Road, the Tracker and I like that kind, that would be great-"

"Not that kind of ice cream, idiot. The special kind," Lecter rolled his big, blue eyes.

"Yeah, that mint was special! What is wrong with- Ohhhh. You mean that ice cream," Krueger said nodding.

"Yes. After that little spill in the back of the Captain's car, we only had enough for Morgana. We need more and we need it quickly,"

"You want another resurrection? Already?" Krueger whispered. "We've barely broken through to Morgana and she's already handing out death threats! Which, might I add, is against the Tract-"

"I don't care about that bloody Tract," Hannibal barked.

"Then why did you sign it?!"

"So that the Captain would be, ah, less pissed at me about destroying his car,"

"By the way, I did get a call from one of the people who owned the car with the bumper you wrecked, and she's calling for insurance pretty hard-"

"Listen. I want more energy and I want it now,"

"The next electrical storm isn't due for another month! Even if we have the cream, we can't bring someone else back yet until all of the conditions are right," Krueger reminded.

"You've forgotten that we have Morgana," An evil smirk twisted Lecter's mouth. "Her, ah, abilities will give us the perfect conditions.

"You mean her magic,"

"We've been over this. There's no such thing as magic,"

"Yeah, okay,"

"What about the Carbonite?"

"Those stupid twins drained it all for Morgana,"

"Something needs to be done about them,"

"I agree. But until I figure out something brutal and satisfying enough, they have to stay,"

The General began to pour himself a tall glass of sparkling red wine. He offered the bottle to the Lieutenant, but Krueger politely held up a hand in decline.

"So where are we gonna get the rest of it?" he asked.

"Don't worry. I have that under control," The General said, sipping his wine and licking his lips.

"But you won't tell me,"

The smirk across the General's face widened. A more sarcastic one crossed Krueger's.

"Lieutenant. We're friends. Not brothers,"

"Friends don't lie,"

"Who said that?"

"I dunno. Some chick,"

Crossing his legs, Hannibal spun in his chair and examined a diagram on the human skeletal system.

"I have it all under control," he said.

Scowling, Krueger bit into a butter-stick and made sure to crunch it extra loudly between his teeth so that Hannibal eventually turned back and cleared his throat.

"The Tracker is going to keep an eye out for the All-Knower. His sewers stretch all the way around the city and he's got some backup as well,"

"Backup?"

"You know,"

"Oh yeah," Krueger grinned. "Now that. That's a plan I'm excited for."

"Exactly. Now, I want you to put together a group of soldiers and see if you can't wrangle up some more energy for the next resurrection. Take the Commander, he's been a tad anxious lately,"

"Did he tell you yet?" Krueger asked, crossing his arms. "About the person who somehow shot him backwards and bound my body together?"

"The mysterious powerful being who protected the All-Knower outside of the Subway?" Hannibal asked. "He filled me in that much but the bugger won't say anything else. I do have my suspicions though, but I can't prove my theory right until he says something."

"He's scared to,"

"He's Jason Vorhees. He's not supposed to be scared of anything!" Hannibal snapped.

"Everyone's afraid of something, you know. Even us, the definitions of fear," Krueger said. "Me? Salamanders. Are they frogs? Are they lizards? Like, what even-"

"Lieutenant,"

"But in all fairness. How can you expect me to follow your lead when you won't tell me anything?"

"Are you doubting me?" Hannibal grinned straight white teeth.

"Honestly, yes,"

"You have no choice but to trust me," The General turned cold and scowled. "I am your superior and I could give you to an angry Kodiak Bear with nothing but a watch and a flare and see how long you survive."

"Probably longer than you,"

"Just do as I said,"

"Sure thing," The Lieutenant rose to his feet, stretching. "Ice cream, new resurrection, group of soldiers. Got it."

"Hit a new Dairy Queen. That last one will be crawling with Starfleet officers,"

"Can I take Morgana?"

The General's eyebrows creased slightly and he clenched his wine glass. He held his mouth open for an moment before answering.

"No, I'm going to have her stay here. We cannot risk her trying to escape. I'm going to have the Scout speak to her,"

"Why not the Secretary? I mean, they're both ladies and they both seem like drama queens,"

"Because I have a separate job for her. A job you are not going to ask questions about because I am not going to answer,"

Krueger rolled his eyes heavily and turned away from the desk to exit the office. "Yeah, you're a real help, bro,"

He moved towards the door when it suddenly swung open and he was forced to skip backwards in order to prevent being whacked in the face.

Carrie White, the Secretary, sauntered in with her clipboard and pen, long strawberry blonde hair and silk pink prom dress soaked head-to-toe in dark red pig's blood. She had electric blue eyes, an upturned nose, freckles, and looked incredibly intimidating for a seventeen-year-old. She licked her lips and bounced on her heels.

"Well well," she whispered. "It appears I'm not the only one in the mood to talk with the man in charge. How nice."

"Oh piss off," Krueger snapped.

"Ooh. Not very nice," Carrie said.

"If you two want to kitty fight later, be my guest," Hannibal groaned. "But not here. We have business to attend to."

Carrie blew a kiss at Fred and sauntered towards Hannibal's desk, planting herself down on the stool, crossing her long slender legs. She pressed the end of her pen against the clipboard and grinned over her shoulder.

"Bye bye, sweetie. You won't be missed," she sneered.

Hannibal's lips thinned, his eyebrows traveled up his forehead. It was very obvious that even he was not completely on board with being in a room alone with the Secretary and her drama-induced ways.

But the serious expression the General was giving off went to show that this was a matter of business. Business not even the Lieutenant was allowed to listen in on.

Hesitantly, Krueger allowed his legs and better judgement to exit the closet, giving one more nasty glare at the Secretary and General alike.

But Hannibal called for him.

"Oh, and Lieutenant, if you really hate the suit, you could've just said so then trying to flatter me. Lies will only have you digging your own grave." He winked.

Krueger smirked and slammed the door behind him and pressed against its outside, clutching his box of deep-fried butter stick. He stared into the long hotel hallway ahead of him, his mind still boggled at the ugly orange and brown geometric carpet.

What did it mean when your best friend and superior officer started keeping secrets from you? Clearly nothing good. Krueger drummed his blades on the box and they made galloping, dull thuds. Obviously, he was going to have to play whatever game the General was playing.

He was going to do his one job and he was going to do it well. But, he was going to do it by his standards. Not that he ever did anything by the book anyway. Being the best friend of the General meant he usually got away with his more detailed and bizarre plan.

He hummed quietly to himself and started down the hallway in front of him. He saw a sudden blur of sky blue, and tiredly called out- "Go back to the hole you came from,"

From down the other hall, the Twins- fully decked out in their lacy blue dresses and pink ribbons- stuck out their tongues simultaneously, sliding black, reflective shades onto their faces. They did a perfectly synchronized pinwheel turn and disappeared down another hall.