AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, here's another series that's in the vain of our normal Spotlight series, but, as you can see, would require an M rating similar to Marvel's MAX imprint and DC Black, and since it is the most wonderful time of the year, the choice for who this first one would be centered around is fairly obvious.

Also, I do feel the need to point out that there is a more obscure property being used here, that being a game/anime entitled Angels of Death. I hate when I risk potentially giving you guys homework and I did try my best to make it to where watching it wasn't required, but it would probably help if you watched a few clips of it on Crunchyroll's Youtube page to get a feel for it.

DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely none of the properties you will see here. All rights go to their respective owners.

Infinity Verse MAX

Michael Myers: The Shape of Evil

I met him fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left. No reason, no conscious, understanding in even the most rudimentary sense of life or death. Of good or evil. Right or wrong. I met this... six-year-old child with this...blank, pale, emotionless face and...the blackest eyes...The Devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply...evil.

-Doctor Samuel Loomis

Darkness.

For hours, it was all Michael Myers could see as he was tranquilized heavily whilst escorted out of Smith's Grove. He had expected to find himself in a maximum security cell when he awakened, destined to rot there for the rest of his days for the atrocities he had committed on three separate Halloween nights. [1]

This made it all the more surprising when he found himself, instead, inside a rather familiar-looking household.

The same household where his murderous ways began.

45 Lampkin Lane, Haddonfield Illinois. The former Myers household.

He awakened next to the stairwell, slowly rising upward before managing to get back on his feet. The area was coated in shadows, but he knew the appearance of his former home more than anyone else. Everything was exactly the way it was back on that fateful day in 1963. Two doorways appeared in front of and behind Michael. The one behind him lead to Judith's room, where the evil that dwelled inside him finally took its shape. To his left was the staircase he awakened next too. Even the paintings on the wall were exactly the same as they were over fifty years ago.

The murderer then proceeded to turn around to face the pathway to his late sister's room, looking down at the exact spot the clown mask he wore while stabbing his sister nine times was before he did the deed. There did indeed was a mask laying there, but it was not that mask.

It was the one he stole from the hardware store on that horrific day in 1978.

The same mask of hate of which some believed he used to dawn the Devil's powers.

Michael bent down to pick it up, noticing also that he was no longer wearing the uniform of a patient of Smith's Grove, but rather another boiler suit. He could tell that something was very off. There was no way that this could be the same house he once lived in. That very house ended up abandoned, dilapidated for years on end with no one daring to so much as step within fifty feet of it anymore. How could it have returned to such pristine condition? Almost as though time had not so much as laid a finger on it? It must be some sort of replica, but who had built it? How would they know of what it looked like on that day? Why would they subdue him and put him in another boiler suit as well as give him back his mask?

These questions boggled the silent killer as he slowly started to place the mask on his face for a third time, taking his first of many heavy breaths as he did so. He then focused his attention on getting the answers he sought, as well as finding and killing those who were responsible for this. He descended down the stairs towards the kitchen before noticing something placed on the table.

A kitchen knife and a tape recorder that had 'play me' written on a piece of tape that was placed on it.

The Shape advanced into the kitchen of his old home, grabbing the handle of the knife with one hand and grasping the tape recorder with the other. Per the instructions written on it, Michael pressed play, allowing the tape inside to begin delivering its message to the babysitter murderer.

"Hello, Michael," said the voice of a young woman. "I understand that this all may seem very disorienting to you, but allow me to explain what is going on. You are currently in the seventh sub-level of an undisclosed structure. Where exactly it is located is not important. You have been chosen by a collaborator of mine to help with an experiment of his. An experiment, he claims, that will test the 'religious faith' inside the hearts of mankind. To do so, we place various 'testing subjects,' if you will, on these floors that are run by those who would kill them without hesitation. That, Michael, is where you come in."

Hearing the words of this woman caused Michael's head to tilt slightly in curiosity.

"You have been chosen to become the 'angel' of floor B7. We've specifically designed it to resemble the street you use to live in back at Haddonfield. Test subjects will be regularly sent here, and while they are on your floor, you are free to try and kill them as you please. However, know that while you are here, there are rules you must follow. If the sacrifice manages to escape your level, you are not to pursue it. You must remain in your floor at all times. If you leave your floor, you will be given a ten-minute warning to return to your domain. If you do not, or if you kill someone outside of your floor, you will be designated as a sacrifice and left at the mercy of your fellow floor masters. So which shall it be, Michael? Live out the rest of your days in a safe environment where you are free to do what you were born to do or be hunted down like a rabid dog once more? Live or die, Michael. Make your cho-"

The tape ceased its recording without warning once Michael started to crush it with his bare hand. A sense of anger began to quietly overtake the masked murderer. This woman could try and deceive him all she wanted, but he saw right through her rose-tinted proposition.

She wanted to use him as a pawn in this game of hers.

Something that Michael did not appreciate in the slightest, and he'd be damned before he allows someone to tell him who he could or couldn't kill.

The iron grip on the butcher's knife not relenting in the slightest, the slasher of Haddonfield silently walked out the front door. What the woman had told him about this floor was not wrong. It did indeed resemble Lampkin Lane as it appeared decades ago when he was still a seemingly normal six-year-old boy, trick-or-treating from house to house. But looks were quite deceiving in this case. The Autumn breeze felt artificial, and in front of the Shape appeared to be an open field in the distance, but a closer inspection revealed that it was indeed a row of cleverly painted walls.

Michael then noticed something to his right. Far off in the distance was an elevator passage. Likely one that would lead to his freedom. The killer slowly advanced towards the passage where he proceeded to press the up button, allowing a pair of primitive elevator doors to open. He walked inside, pressing another button to allow the doors to slowly close and begin Michael's ascension to the next floor.

An intercom from above suddenly started to play an audio recording of what sounded like church bells, however, Michael did not so much as flinch from this sudden action. His eyes were simply staring right at the elevator doors. He didn't even look upward to notice that there was a security camera right above him. His focus was simply on escaping and killing anyone that stood in his way.

Something that, by now, the Shape was very much use to.

"Resident of Floor B7, return to your floor immediately," the voice of a different woman said through the intercom. "This will be your only warning. If you do not return to your floor within the next ten minutes, you will be considered a sacrifice to the other floor masters."

Michael simply ignored this warning, again, focusing his haunting gaze on the elevator doors before the car stopped, the doors opening before the masked murderer, revealing to him what appeared to be a room designed after a group of slums and alleyways. Corroded bricks, filled dumpsters and what appeared to be bloodstains on the small buildings' walls greeted his slightly impaired sight, but again, Michael paid no attention to any of this and simply walked out of the car and into the street before him.

The only sounds emanating through the area were Michael's footsteps and breathing as he slowly walked through the decrepit maze before him, stopping only when he reached a dead-end before continuing on his trek for freedom. Then, about five minutes since his efforts to find another elevator began, the sounds of maniacal laughter and a frightened scream brought an end to the uneasy silence in the air, prompting the Shape to stop in his tracks. A simple command overtook his mind upon realizing that he was not alone on this floor. One simple, solitary word.

KILL

A woman in her thirties instantly fell on her back when her pursuer burst through the window beside her. A young man carrying a blood-soaked scythe, wearing a grey sports hoodie and with bandages covering most of his face now stood in front of her, cackling in a crazed manner as he did so. The woman let out a horrified scream as she slowly realized who now stood before her.

A notorious serial killer by the name of Isaac Foster.

"That's right, bitch, scream!" the maniac said. "That sad, desperate, pathetic face just makes me want to gut you like a fish!"

The woman breathed heavily in a panic as Isaac brought up three of his left fingers.

"You got three seconds. Go ahead. Just try and run! Oh, and maybe start crying and begging for mercy while you're at it! Three..."

Not wanting to take any chances, the woman instantly got back on her feet and ran away from the crazed murderer.

"Two..."

The would-be-victim continued to flee, focusing so much on the man that was currently after her life that she failed to notice something in the shadows to her right.

A shape.

"ONE!"

With that, Isaac immediately began to charge towards his target, laughing as his eyes almost appeared to be glowing a hellish shade of red. However, he too failed to notice the shape that watched both him and his target from within the darkness.

The woman bolted through a door she spotted, finding herself in a decaying kitchen as she prayed that lunatic didn't see her entering this room. She quickly attempted to find a means of defending herself, like a knife or a shard of broken glass, but it was to no avail. So, she was left with hiding as her only option.

Padlocks instantly meant that the refrigerator and freezer were out of the question and the oven was far too small for her to hide inside, so her only option was to duck underneath the table, out of a nearby window's line of sight as she placed her hands on her mouth so that she could cease her gasps of terror. The sounds of footsteps caused her eyes to widen as she saw the scythe-carrying murderer step in front of the window. He turned to look into the kitchen as the woman began to shiver with fear.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, bitch," Isaac said, barely containing his laughter.

Second after agonizing second passed with him seemingly doing nothing and the woman remaining motionless the entire time. Tension filled the air until a sigh from the killer caught the woman off guard.

"Not here," he said to himself before walking off.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped the woman's lips as she slowly emerged from under the table and approached the door, only for her to stop just inches from the handle. She couldn't figure out why, but something in her head told her she wasn't alone. Uneasy, she turned around to a darkened corner of the kitchen. One that appeared to be practically pitch black. Seconds passed as an uneasy silence overtook the scene, cold sweat running down the woman's forehead as she anticipated someone emerging from the shadows, but that did not come to be. Feeling as though it was her superstitions playing tricks on her, the woman turned to the door once again, turning the handle as she did so.

Then, the feeling returned. She turned once more, this time seeing Michael standing right in front of her, knife in the air before swinging it down upon her. She had managed to react in time to prevent the instrument from slicing her neck open, but it still managed to find it's mark with her right arm. She yelled out in pain as she fell through the open door onto her stomach. The babysitter murderer looked down at her as he crouched down and aimed his weapon towards the woman's back, only for her to push herself out of its path. Again, however, it reached a different target: Her left leg.

The woman cried out in pain once more as she stumbled back onto her feet, limping away from her new pursuer as he slowly started to give chase.

Far away, Isaac, hearing the woman's cries, grinned sadistically and let out a most devious chuckle.

"HELP ME!" she shouted as she turned to see Michael moving closer and closer towards her. She continued to fight the pain in her foot and grip her arm to slow the bleeding as much as she could as she still limped along in an attempt to evade the Shape. Her efforts came to an end, however, as she slammed face-first against a closed door. She managed to stop herself from falling again and went to try and open it, only to find that it was locked.

She turned to her left and her right, only for two walls to meet her eyes. She then turned completely around to try and find an escape route, only to see Michael standing no more than twenty feet away from her. The woman let out a horrified scream as she then started banging on the door in the vain hope that someone was on the other side.

"SOMEBODY, PLEASE!" she pleaded. "OPEN THE DOOR! SOMEONE OPEN THE DOOR!"

Michael continued to stare at this woman, watching as she slammed her hands against the door when a series of images started to flash through his mind.

Images...of HER.

"TOMMY! TOMMY, IT'S ME! TOMMY, HURRY UP!"

As Michael reached towards Laurie, she instantly reacted by driving an unfolded clothes hanger right through his left eye. The second he dropped his weapon as he reached for his blinded eye, Laurie reacted by stabbing him through the abdomen.

"Happy Halloween, Michael."

Michael barely had any time to react when Laurie emerged from behind, knife in her hand as she grazed his shoulder with it.

"It's not a cage, baby...It's a trap."

"Goodbye, Michael."

The gases ignited around Michael as he continued to stare emotionlessly at Laurie, Karen, and Allyson.

The mere thought of that annoying girl was enough to make Michael's knuckles turn white as he tightly gripped the handle of his knife. He then began marching his way towards the girl, who turned to see this action upon hearing the Shape's heavy footsteps approach her.

"HELP ME!" she screamed as she continued to bang on the door. "SOMEBODY, OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! PLEASE!"

Once Michael reached the woman, he proceeded to grab her by the head and pull her towards him. The woman screamed in terror as she struggled for the killer to release her, but it was to no avail as Michael, without hesitation, slammed her head through the door's window, shattering it upon impact. Shards of glass were driven through her cheeks, forehead, left eye and neck. Blood started to pour from these wounds as the neck wound caused her to start choking. Michael then tossed her onto her back as she desperately tried to stop the bleeding in her neck, only for the masked murderer to approach her and crouch down before driving his knife through her heart four times.

Isaac didn't even notice that the screams had ceased as he ran towards the source of these horrific sounds. All that was on his mind was how he was going to mince her to pieces and the face she would make as he committed the atrocious deed. It wasn't until the intercoms above started to play the sounds of church bells chiming once more.

"Huh?" he muttered, stopping dead in his tracks as he did so.

"A floor B7 resident has murdered a sacrifice on floor B6. Since this violates the rules, the traitor is now a sacrifice."

It took some time, but as Isaac started to put the pieces together, his look of confusion turned to one of anger as he grinded his teeth and tightly gripped the handle of his scythe.

"DAMNIT, SHE WAS MINE!" he shouted.

The life faded from the woman's eyes as her body went limp, lying in a pool of her own blood. It was a sight Michael bore witness to several times before and was destined to tirelessly witness it again and again for the rest of his days. The blood of his victim continued to drip from his knife as he began to depart this scene and continue his quest for freedom when...

"HEY, SHITHEAD!" an enraged voice shouted from behind.

The masked killer turned to face Isaac standing before him, seething with rage and scythe in hands. Michael recognized him as the second person he saw when he observed the woman from the shadows, but his black, empty eyes gave off no sense of retaliation or surprise. They were as emotionless as ever.

"You got SOME NERVE barging into MY floor and start taking MY victims like you own the damn place!" Isaac continued. "Guess I'll have to make up for that by strangling you with your own intestines!"

Hearing these threats did not stir Michael in the slightest. He just continued to stare at Isaac with the same, blank expression the entire time he shouted at him, which, in turn, only managed to make the scythe-wielding maniac even angrier.

"Keep making that stupid face all you want," he snarled. "It's not gonna last when I get started turning you into minced meat!"

The bandaged killer ran towards Michael, scythe in hand before swinging it towards his adversary, yelling out in contempt as he did so. But the blade failed to meet its mark, as the Shape had grabbed the handle with his right hand, stopping it just an inch away from his neck. A shocked Isaac was then hurled towards the door the woman was previously trying to get open with such force that it knocked it off of its hinges, sending him into the room beyond it.

Michael still had the scythe in his hand as he observed Isaac trying to get back on his feet. The butcher of Haddonfield proceeded to toss it towards Isaac with the intention of it slicing something off, only for the killer to roll out of its path and get stuck, blade-first, on the floor. Seeing this, Michael bent down to grab the knife he had dropped and approach the bandaged maniac, only for him to instantly get back on his feet, reclaim his weapon and launch himself at Michael, stabbing him through the shoulder.

The Shape grunted slightly in pain as he stumbled backward while Isaac pulled his scythe away, grinning sadistically, only for it to fade when he saw Michael's eyes were as black and emotionless as ever.

"Hey, c'mon, pal, least you could do is start begging for your life right about n-" he attempted to say, only for Michael to march his way towards him, raising his knife upwards as he did so.

Isaac was able to counter this time, shifting to the left whilst positioning his scythe for another swing. As he did do, Michael ducked downward before slashing his knife across the bandaged psycho's stomach before driving it into his right shoulder. The other murderer cried out in pain before snarling and pushing the Shape up against the wall with the handle of his weapon, causing the babysitter murderer to drop his own weapon. Chuckling deviously, Isaac placed his right boot against Michael's stomach to try and hold him in place before readying his scythe once more.

"Trick-or-treat, motherfu-" he tried to say.

He was rudely interrupted, however, when Michael smashed forehead against his opponent's. This disoriented Isaac for a moment, enough time for Michael to grab him by his neck and turn around swiftly, now shoving him against the wall he was previously trapped against. He started to strangle the bandaged maniac as he tried to fight his way out of the Shape's iron grip. As Isaac struggled just to breathe, he noticed a pair of scissors on a nearby table and instantly grabbed them before jabbing them into the left side of Michael's neck.

This move resulted in Michael dropping Isaac as he reached for the wound, allowing Isaac to dash back to his weapon, getting in a stance as the Haddonfield butcher turned to face him.

"Come and get me, ya damn freak!" he shouted.

He then made his way up a flight of stairs whilst Michael grabbed his knife once more and slowly followed him.

The stairs made their way to the roof of the structure they were in. From here, Michael could see the sheer size and scope of floor B6. A labyrinth of slums that had to have been about two to three city blocks in width. He then noticed something to his left. He advanced in that direction to try and get a better look, only to hear the chuckling of that irritating, scythe-wielding maniac. He turned just in time to see him jump out from behind a busted air conditioner.

"Peekaboo, I see you!" he gleefully cried out.

His scythe found its mark into Michael's chest, causing him to fall on his back. Isaac then pulled his weapon out of the killer's chest as he stood before him, grinning psychotically.

"This ain't Haddonfield, Mikey," he stated. "Round here, I'M top dog. And I don't take too kindly to some bozo in a mask thinking like he can-"

Michael didn't allow him to continue, as he swiftly lifted himself upward and stabbed Isaac right into his left leg. Isaac cried out in pain as he stumbled downward, dropping his scythe while the Shape got back on his feet.

"Hey, I wasn't finished, you son of a bitch!" Isaac angrily shouted as he swung his right fist towards Michael's head.

The Shape, however, blocked Isaac's fist with his hand, the impact snapping his wrist out of his socket. The bandaged murderer's eyes widened before yelling out in pain. Despite this, he made one last attempt to try and attack Michael, this time attempting to tackle him off of the roof. However, Michael simply stepped to the side, allowing Isaac to stumble as he attempted to cease his now folly attempt, but it was too late. Isaac tripped over the balcony and fell about twenty feet to the street below.

Michael advanced to where Isaac fell, looking down to see the motionless body laying stomach-first in a small pool of his own blood. The butcher of Haddonfield then turned to what he was trying to get a good look at earlier and confirmed his suspicions: Out in the distance was a second elevator. No doubt one that would at least get him a step closer to his freedom. Curiously, Michael looked down once more and was slightly surprised as to what he now saw.

Isaac was gone.

No doubt he must have survived the fall somehow, similarly to what happened to him and Laurie in both of their encounters, but he honestly couldn't care less. He had other things to worry about than hunting down that maniac to finish the job.

Including finishing the job he started with Laurie over four decades ago.

So, with that in mind, Michael walked back to the staircase, beginning his journey to the second elevator in silence, though keeping his guard up in case Isaac tried to get the jump on him.

That, however, never happened, as Isaac was currently in another one of his floor's structures, grumbling in anger as he tried to pop his wrist back into his socket after bandaging his other wounds.

"Damnit...how the hell do I..." he muttered as he forced his wrist harshly into his socket...incorrectly. This in turn caused him to scream out in pain.

"SON OF A BITCH! When I get my hands on that bastard, I'm gonna...RAAAAUGH!"

Meanwhile, a cloaked figure had been watching these events transpire via the building's security cameras and sighed to herself, pressing a button to activate a microphone as she did so.

"I need a medical staff on floor B6," emerged the same voice of the young woman from the tape recorder. "And make sure to remember the tranquilizers. I don't want a repeat of the last time I sent someone to Isaac's floor."

Once that command was issued, the woman let out an irritated sigh as she rose from her chair, inwardly cursing her collaborator as she did so. She told him countless times that bringing a virtually unstoppable evil such as Michael Myers here was a bad idea, yet he wouldn't listen. He felt that Michael's pure and uncompromising desire to shed blood, one that even surpassed Isaac's desires, made him a perfect choice to become this facility's angel of floor B7. Every time this was brought up, she'd bring the same counter-argument: What good was an angel that could not be controlled?

And it seemed as though fate may have sided with her on this occasion.

Still, she knew that, outside of that glaring flaw, Michael was indeed an ideal choice for this experiment of her collaborator's, so she opted to not completely abandon the idea of putting him back in his place. But first, she'd need to figure out exactly how to control him. So, the woman turned to a nearby table that contained a box of tapes and recording devices labeled with the GJN insignia and designated as 'classified evidence.'

She picked up one of the devices labeled 'INTERVIEW WITH LAURIE STRODE - 2018.'

The elevator doors opened, slowly revealing floor B5 to the Shape. A cold, silent, dark hospital waiting room was before his eyes. The sounds of his breathing and the blood dripping from his knife echoed across the halls as he made his way out of the elevator car. Michael took several seconds to analyze his surroundings before slowly trudging down the empty hallways.

*BEEP*

"So...Aaron and I have made several award-winning public radio expos s. Our last project shed new light on a murder case from twenty years ago. We like to reexamine incidents with an unbiased lens. I believe there's a lot to learn from the horrors you experienced."

"There's nothing to learn. There are no new insights or discoveries."

"So, is he real?"

"Who?"

"The...Boogeyman. I read you quoted-"

"You don't believe in the Boogeyman?"

"I...believe in Michael Myers, deranged serial killer, but...the Boogeyman, no."

"...Well, you should."

Door after door the masked killer passed without him even giving a second thought, completely uninterested in what lied beyond until he reached one to his right. He turned to gaze upon the open window and found a dimly-lit operating room on the other side. He attempted to slide the metal door open, only to find that it was locked. Michael tried once more, this time with both hands, and, after a few seconds, managed to break the door off its hinges.

As he observed his surroundings, Michael's attention turned towards a second door, likely one that leads to a storage closet. He wasn't too sure why, but the babysitter killer had a feeling that someone was hiding from him inside. Because of this, he found himself slowly shambling towards the door, his knife held handle upwards.

"Michael Myers is a human being who killed his sister when he was six years old. Then he came after you. We just want to know why. We want a glimpse inside his mind. That's why your story is so important."

"...My story?"

"Two failed marriages, rocky relationship with your daughter and granddaughter."

"Michael Myers murdered five people...And he's a human being we need to understand?"

The Shape's mangled left hand grasped onto the door handle and tried to open it, but it seemed as though this door was locked as well. He pulled upon the handle downward a second time with much more force than before, but his efforts were futile once more. Growing impatient, Michael started to pull the door in an attempt to break it off, hearing the metal creak as the hinges started to give way when...

"Gotcha."

*BANG*

Images of that woman's daughter shooting him in the shoulder suddenly came to him, causing him to release his grip on the handle. Again, the knuckles on his right hand turned white as he grasped his weapon's handle before he turned towards the first door and exited the operating room. As he left, thoughts drifted in the murderer's mind of Laurie, Karen and Allyson...

...and how, when he returned to Haddonfield, he was going to kill them all.

However, Michael's suspicions of someone hiding in the storage closet were actually real unbeknownst to him. For inside the room the Shape was trying to barge into, Daniel Dickens was patiently awaiting Michael to leave his floor, that same unsettling grin on his face from whenever he was readying himself to rip the eyeballs out of his victims. Danny knew that he was no match for Michael when news broke of his escape from floor B7 and decided that it would be in his best interest to avoid confronting him altogether. Besides, his eyes were of no interest to him. One of them didn't even function thanks to his 1978 killing spree.

No, he needed to prepare himself for one of the sacrifices. Or, more specifically, her magnanimous eyes of blue.

"Laurie, we saw him. We met with Michael. I showed him the mask...There was nothing. No response. Nothing. He won't talk to anyone. Never has, but...I think he might speak with you. So, why don't you sit down with him and say all the things you must be longing to say? Come with us, and let us help you free yourself. Please."

The sounds of a latch unlocking emanated from the recording before that of a door opening.

"Time's up. I'll accept my payment...Get out."

Nothing.

The recording gave the woman absolutely nothing that could be of any help to her. So, with an irritated sigh, she threw the device back into the box of evidence before pulling out a tape that read 'SMITH'S GROVE BOARD MEETING WITH DR. LOOMIS - 1971.'

Stone walls and two small chasms of water surrounded Michael's vision as he stepped into floor B4. The hallways were only illuminated ever so slightly by the lamps that were installed into the walls. Behind the shadows that hid his eyes, Michael carefully observed his surroundings, anticipating the master of this floor to reveal him or herself. He saw nothing but swore he could hear the faint sounds of a boy's laughter echo throughout the empty halls.

Eventually, Michael's travels lead him to a room with a series of tombstones within the floor and obvious signs that there were several people buried here. The Shape paid no mind to them, even ignoring a stone tablet with a written message inscribed upon it until he reached a rather peculiar headstone and stopped in front of it.

It seemed to have been placed here sooner than the rest. While the others were cracked and decayed, this one was freshly crafted, though seemingly placed slightly lopsided and sloppily mishappen, indicating that it was installed in a hurry. The design was generic, though it seemed to share a similar design to his sister's gravestone.

But Judith Myers was not the name designated to it.

It was his.

MICHAEL MYERS: 1957-2019

After curiously tilting his head to the side at this revelation, the babysitter murderer then kneeled and grasped both sides of the headstone, slowly prying it out of the ground. An achievement that wasn't too daunting on him considering he managed to do the same to his sister's, though the missing fingers on his left hand did make it slightly more tasking. Once the gravestone was brought upward, Michael shoved it to the ground, smashing it into several pieces, one of which smashed into another fairly recently conceived tombstone that read 'RACHEL GARDNER.'

Though, more interestingly to Michael, another managed to make it to a hidden button on the floor, the sound of something unlocking echoing through a narrow yet tall hole in the wall.

The masked killer was about to make his way to the hole when the lights suddenly shut off. That same laughter he heard earlier was heard yet again as he felt the presence of someone from behind him.

"Where do you think you're going, grave-ruiner?" a voice from the darkness questioned.

Michael slowly turned around, knife at the ready, to see a boy, no older than thirteen, wearing a pair of overalls with a white t-shirt underneath, a red scarf around his neck and carrying a shovel over his shoulder. Most striking of all though was the burlap mask that covered his face. He wasn't sure why, but the mask reminded Michael of ghost stories he used to hear long ago about a child from Warren Valley, Ohio that was said to 'enforce the rules of Halloween' to the townspeople.

This was not the case though, as Michael was now face-to-face with a child serial killer by the name of Edward Mason.

"Hey there...Michael."

*CLICK*

"Michael Myers must be removed from this sanitarium immediately. I would suggest the maximum security ward at Lichfield."

"Doctor Loomis, the decision has been made. He will remain at this institution until his twenty-first birthday when he can be tried as an-"

"But this is a minimum-security institution. The staff isn't adequately prepared."

"Prepared for what? The boy is a catatonic. He exhibits comatose behavior. No reaction to external stimuli-"

"I've spent four hours a day!... Four hours a day with this boy...Every day, for eight years."

"Do you know how much trouble I went through making that grave just for you?" Eddie angrily asked. "Why would you just smash it like that?!"

Silence was all Michael responded with as he continued to stand in front of the child, completely motionless.

"If it's because you didn't like how it looked, I was in a hurry, okay?" Eddie tried to reason. "It was only thirty minutes ago when you broke the rules. Still, if it was as ugly as you thought, then you would have been right at home with it."

Again, Michael said nothing in retaliation.

"But did you have to ruin Rachel's grave too?!" the child continued. "I needed it to be especially perfect for her. Now I've gotta start all over again!"

His tone mysteriously changed then from being enraged to lovestruck as he turned his back towards Michael.

"It was love at first sight, you know," he sighed. "I never knew the feeling of loving someone who could love you back up until now. It must be-"

His words were cut off when he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching him. The young killer turned to see Michael marching towards him, knife raised upward. He swung it down towards the surprised Eddie, only for him to jump backward with his hands and shovel behind his back, disappearing into the shadows.

"Would you let me finish?!" the child yelled from within the shadows as Michael attempted to pin-point where he was. "Then again, I'm not sure why I'm bothering to explain all this to you. Unlike you, I have an eye for what's beautiful in this wo-"

As he spoke, Michael turned towards the source of his voice to find Eddie standing atop one of the tombstones. He made his way to him and lunged his weapon towards his chest, only for the young killer to backflip away from him.

"Okay, fine then!" he shouted. "If you really wanna die THAT badly..."

His chuckle echoed across the room as the Shape made another attempt to try and find him. However, when his back was turned, Eddie lunged from the shadows and smashed his shovel against the masked killer's left leg. This caused Michael to fall to one knee as he swiped his knife in the direction of where the attack came from. When he got back to his feet and turned around, the child was nowhere to be seen.

Another devious chuckle was let out as Michael slowly turned his head to one of the headstones. He advanced in that direction and looked down from behind the grave, expecting to find Eddie hiding there, only to find absolutely nothing. The second he had done so, Eddie emerged from the darkness and swung his shovel against the Haddonfield butcher's back, causing him to stumble forward slightly. He swiftly turned around and slashed his knife once again, only to just briefly catch the child's mask as he vanished into the darkness.

"Whoops! Almost had me that time!" Eddie mocked.

Michael continued to try and hone in on his target's voice when he remembered something. When he smashed his and this 'Rachel's' graves, he seemed oddly offended. Perhaps these tombstones were like works of art to him, and maybe they can manage to lure him out of hiding. So, with this in mind, Michael turned to the headstone he was observing before and grasped it with his free hand, pushing it down into the ground, causing it to break into several pieces.

"What? Hey, hey!" Eddie shouted. "What do you think you're doing?!"

The voice this time was to Michael's right and very close by. Upon hearing it, Michael swung his weapon once again, this time finding its mark on Eddie's left shoulder. The boy cried out in pain as he emerged from the darkness and stumbled backward and onto his back. The Shape then advanced towards him, pushing over several headstones he passed by to ensure the young killer wouldn't have anywhere he could cower towards. Running low on options, Eddie swiftly got back on his feet and jumped back into the darkness, chuckling one last time before the lights came back on.

With his assailant gone, for now, Michael turned his attention back to the hole in the wall and made his way through it, all while thinking of how he was going to get out of this floor...

...and maybe kill that annoying little brat while he was at it.

After passing through what he assumed was Eddie's workshop, Michael managed to find his way into a large library that seemed to be accessible thanks to that button he managed to accidentally find. At the center was a table with several files and a few newspapers placed on it. Curiosity got the better of the Shape as he walked over to the table, noticing the headlines in the newspapers, some of which were decades old.

HELL IN THE HALLWAYS: CHAMBERLAIN HIGH SCHOOLER LEAVES 458 DEAD IN BLOODY RAMPAGE THAT BEGAN IN EWAN HIGH'S PROMENADE DANCE.

SILENT NIGHT, EVIL NIGHT: EIGHT BODIES FOUND IN ONTARIO SORORITY HOUSE. KILLER STILL AT LARGE.

KRUEGER SET FREE: ACCUSED SPRINGWOOD SLASHER RELEASED FROM CUSTODY. OFFICER WHO ARRESTED HIM DID NOT READ HIS RIGHTS.

SWEET TOOTH CAPTURED: DEATH PENALTY A SURE THING.

LAKESHORE STRANGLER SLAIN: CHARLES LEE RAY GUNNED DOWN INSIDE CHICAGO TOY STORE. STORE LATER STRUCK BY LIGHTNING AND BURNT DOWN.

Of course, eventually, as he shifted through the papers, he came across one that was dedicated to him.

NIGHT OF HORROR: ESCAPED MENTAL PATIENT MURDERS FOUR IN HADDONFIELD, ILLINOIS. SUSPECT CURRENTLY IN CUSTODY.

The masked murderer then turned to the files, briefly catching a glimpse each name before placing them on the side.

TORONTO, CANADA - BILLY(?) STATUS: AT LARGE

RUGGSVILLE, TEXAS - CAPTAIN SPAULDING. STATUS: DECEASED

CAMP BLACKFOOT, NEW YORK - CROPSY. STATUS: DECEASED

VALENTINE BLUFFS, CANADA - HARRY WARDEN/AXEL PALMER. STATUS: AT LARGE

POTH, TEXAS - JED SAWYER (LEATHERFACE) STATUS: APPREHENDED

CHAMBERLAIN, MAINE - CARRIE WHITE. STATUS: DECEASED

MONTREAL, QUEBEC - DARRYL REVOK. STATUS: PENDING (PURSUE AT OWN RISK)

SPRINGWOOD, OHIO - FREDERICK KRUEGER. STATUS: DECEASED(?)

RUGGSVILLE, TEXAS - THE FIREFLY FAMILY. STATUS: PENDING

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA - VICTOR CROWLEY. STATUS: APPREHENDED (PURSUE AT OWN RISK)

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - CANDYMAN KILLER. STATUS: UNKNOWN

WOODSBORO, CALIFORNIA - GHOSTFACE KILLER (MULTIPLE KILLERS) STATUS: ALL CURRENTLY DECEASED

FAIRVALE, CALIFORNIA - NORMAN BATES. STATUS: PENDING

CUNNINGHAM COUNTY, NEW JERSEY - JASON VOORHEES. STATUS: AT LARGE (PURSUE AT OWN RISK)

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - CHARLES LEE RAY. STATUS: DECEASED(?)

HUDSON FALLS, NEW YORK - ANGELA/PETER BAKER. STATUS: AT LARGE

RUGGSVILLE, TEXAS - S. QUENTIN QUALE (DR. SATAN) STATUS: UNKNOWN

NEW YORK CITY - MATTHEW CORDELL. STATUS: DECEASED(?)

UNKNOWN HOMETOWN - NEEDLES KANE (SWEET TOOTH) STATUS: APPREHENDED

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND - HANNIBAL LECTER. STATUS: APPREHENDED

HOPE'S PEAK ACADEMY, JAPAN - JUNKO ENOSHIMA. STATUS: AT LARGE (PURSUE AT OWN RISK)

It was clear to Michael that the people responsible for his abduction weren't planning on stopping this experiment with just him and the other floor masters. It seemed as though they had plenty of alternatives should something unexpected happen.

It was then that he finally reached his file.

HADDONFIELD, ILLINOIS - MICHAEL MYERS. STATUS: CURRENTLY APPREHENDED (PURSUE AT OWN RISK)

The Shape's head tilted as he read further.

NAME: MICHAEL AUDREY MYERS

GENDER: MALE

BIRTHDATE: OCTOBER 19, 1957

LIVED IN 45 LAMPKIN LANE, HADDONFIELD, ILLINOIS WITH HIS PARENTS, DONALD MYERS AND EDITH MYERS, AND HIS OLDER SISTER, JUDITH MYERS, UNTIL OCTOBER 31, 1963, WHEN, AT THE AGE OF SIX, MICHAEL MURDERED HIS OLDER SISTER IN COLD BLOOD. AFTERWARD, HE WAS INCARCERATED IN SMITH'S GROVE SANITARIUM AND WAS INTENDED TO REMAIN THERE UNTIL HIS TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY WHEN HE WOULD BE TRIED AS AN ADULT. BOTH PARENTS WOULD LATER BE KILLED IN A CAR CRASH ON JANUARY 6, 1965.

FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER HIS APPREHENSION, MICHAEL ESCAPED AND WENT ON A KILLING SPREE IN HIS HOMETOWN ONLY TO BE STOPPED BY HIS CARETAKER, DOCTOR SAMUEL LOOMIS, AND A HADDONFIELD RESIDENT NAMED LAURIE STRODE. SEVERAL FALSE REPORTS LATER SURFACED OF LAURIE POTENTIALLY BEING MICHAEL'S YOUNGER SISTER. MICHAEL WAS BROUGHT BACK TO SMITH'S GROVE AND REMAINED THERE FOR FORTY YEARS WHEN, DURING A PRISON TRANSFER, MICHAEL ESCAPED YET AGAIN AND WENT ON A SECOND KILLING SPREE IN HADDONFIELD, ONLY FOR IT TO END AFTER LAURIE, HER DAUGHTER, KAREN, AND GRANDDAUGHTER, ALLYSON, TO TRAP HIM INSIDE A COMPOUND OWNED BY MS. STRODE, WHICH WAS THEN SET ON FIRE. SOMEHOW, MICHAEL MANAGED TO BREAK THROUGH A WEAK SPOT AND ESCAPE INTO THE WOODS, ONLY FOR HIM TO BE APPREHENDED ONCE AGAIN AND BROUGHT BACK TO SMITH'S GROVE, WHERE THE GLOBAL JUSTICE NETWORK EVENTUALLY ASSUMED CUSTODY OF HIM AND SET OFF TO BRING HIM TO A CURRENTLY UNDISCLOSED LOCATION.

PREPARATIONS ARE CURRENTLY UNDERWAY TO BRING HIM TO THIS ESTABLISHMENT.

As Michael read that last sentence, the lights above started to flicker as Eddie's giggling snapped him out of his mild trance. He felt like he had distracted himself long enough and needed to get back to the task at hand: Getting out of this place and killing anyone who got in his way.

Eventually, the Shape walked into a large room with a bridge that was built above a small body of water, two makeshift waterfalls to the left and right of where Michael stood and a staircase that lead to yet another grave, though this one appeared to be different from the rest. He couldn't exactly look up to figure out why that was, however, as his black eyes were fixated on something that lunged towards him from the top of the staircase the second he stepped foot inside this room.

It was that kid again.

Michael reacted by simply stepping to the left to allow Eddie to fly past him before turning around, lunging his knife towards the child's back, only to miss by an inch. Eddie was able to land on his feet after the ill-faded offensive, staring back at Michael's expressionless gaze.

"Like it?" he asked, referring to the room itself. "I specifically designed this place just for her. A beautiful tomb to rest in for all eternity...once I kill her, of course."

He was clearly referring to this girl he brought up to the babysitter murderer earlier. A detail that Michael didn't care about then and certainly didn't care about now as he stood before Eddie, practically motionless to the point that one could almost mistake him for a statue. This lack of a response prompted the young murderer to sigh in an almost disappointed manner.

"Not surprised," he said. "As I said, I have an eye for beauty, whereas you have no sense of it at all. I put my victims to rest with grace. All YOU do is stab, stab, stab like the deranged lunatic I know you-!"

He was so caught up in his rant that he, once again, failed to notice Michael making his way towards him with his knife at the ready. However, once the butcher of Haddonfield reached his target, the lights shut off yet again and Eddie vanished into the darkness, causing Michael to simply swing at thin air once he reached where the child once stood.

"Guess Mommy never taught you any manners, huh?" Eddie darkly remarked.

Upon hearing his voice, Michael instinctively swung his knife towards that direction, only for his makeshift weapon to hit the wall, the force of the impact causing the bricks installed to crack.

"You're strong, Michael, I'll give you that," Eddie admitted. "But what good's that when you can't see who you're fighting?"

Then, it hit Michael. It was clear now that the light's flickering on and off wasn't due to faulty wiring. Rather, Eddie must be the one controlling them to do so at his will. And now that he figured that out, he knew exactly how to turn the tables on this fight.

And he started by simply listening.

"I've had lots of experience digging graves in the dead of night," Eddie boasted. "Thanks to that, I can see you just FINE!"

With that last word, Eddie jumped out of the darkness, ready to ram the back end of his shovel into Michael's gut. But then, the Shape grasped onto the shovel right before it made its mark, catching the young killer completely off guard.

"Wait, what?!" he exclaimed.

Then, Michael slashed his knife across Eddie's face, cutting deeply into his mask and slicing his right eye open. The child yelled out in pain as he dropped both the shovel and a remote control he was holding onto from behind. Before he could retrieve them though, Michael raised his knife once more, forcing Eddie to leap back right before the blade could pierce his heart.

Back in the security room, the cloaked woman suddenly heard Eddie's cries of agony and turned to the screen that displayed floor B4 to her. The sight of Michael managing to overpower one of the angels of this building caused her eyes to widen.

"Damnit, damnit!" she muttered, all while the tape she was listening to continued to play.

"Doctor Loomis-"

"Michael Myers is the most dangerous patient I have ever observed."

"Doctor, there is no diagnostic evidence to support that statement."

"He's...he's covering up! This catatonia is a conscious act. There is an instinctive force within him...He's waiting."

"...For what?"

"...I don't know."

Eddie had managed to make his way up to the grave he was preparing for the girl she had mentioned, a bed of flowers resting in the hole before the headstone, as he clutched his right eye while blood continued to pour from it. As he continued his efforts to stop the bleeding, the lights shot back on. The child looked down to find Michael, shovel in one hand, controls in the other and his knife resting in one of his suit's pockets, staring up at him. Seeing this caused the young serial killer to start seething with anger.

"You're just as messy and worthless as that scumbag down in B6, you know that?!" he shouted.

The lights then shut off, no doubt thanks to Michael, as his figure instantly transitioned to that of a silhouetted shape in the shadows. Rather than be intimidated by this, however, Eddie continued to yell at Michael in a fit of rage.

"You're just a big, dumb, violent brute!" the child continued.

Suddenly, the lights came back on, revealing that Michael was no longer where he originally was, but several meters to his left...

...and much closer to Eddie.

"It doesn't matter how much bigger and stronger you are than me!" Eddie continued. "I mean, you're so stupid that you can't even kill people right!"

The lights came off again, once more illuminating the Shape with darkness. Only now did the young murderer cease his ranting and focus on what Michael was doing, trying to pin-point where exactly he was heading. It didn't make any sense to him how he was able to evade his vision, and made even worse for him was that the only sounds he could hear were the two waterfalls...

...that was, until, he started to hear something else.

Breathing.

With a gasp, Eddie looked upwards just as the lights switched back on, revealing Michael just a few inches away from him, swinging the spade of his shovel towards his head. Eddie had no time to react as the shovel made its mark, the sounds of the child's skull cracking whilst he was practically launched into the grave he had made for the girl he was so enamored with. The impact also caused his mask to be removed, revealing his red-haired face to his attacker.

He grasped the top of his head in agony while trying to make his way out of the hole when Michael emerged from above and drove the shovel into Eddie's neck. The child gasped out again, this time coughing up blood as he did so while the fresh wound in his neck started to bleed profusely. The flower bed started to turn a dark shade of crimson as Eddie struggled to free himself, only for Michael to drive his foot upon the spade, the impact managing to decapitate Eddie instantly. His eyes widened for a brief second before the life completely faded away from them and the rest of his body went completely limp.

For several seconds, the babysitter murderer looked down at his victim, taking everything in before stepping out of the grave and shoving the massive headstone atop the grave, encasing Eddie's corpse within it for the rest of eternity. Michael then looked down at the remote he still held, pressing a button that caused one of the waterfalls to cease running water, revealing an open door before the masked murderer.

"...We can make a special recommendation to the court only if we feel there is a justifiable reason to change the patient's treatment. I can see no reason why he shouldn't remain here. We have adequate facilities for his care."

"There is insufficient security here. Please. I am BEGGING you to reconsider your decision."

"Doctor Loomis, perhaps you should reconsider keeping him as your patient. We can find someone else to look after him."

"...I'll stay with him."

"Now, is there anything else you wish to say, Doctor Loomis?"

The good doctor gave no vocal answer. Rather, the sounds of his footsteps were the answer as he most likely exited the room.

*CLICK*

The tape had ended just as the woman saw Eddie's demise at the hands of Michael.

"Fuck..." she muttered as she placed her fingers on her forehead in irritation. "Fuck!"

This was getting out of hand. One angel incapacitated, another dead, and that tape didn't reveal to her a goddamn thing. She needed to act quickly if she wanted to avoid this situation from getting worse. While the tape she had just listened to didn't help, perhaps she was on to something choosing one that involved Michael's former doctor. He did study this man since he committed his first murder and likely was interviewed several times until his death in 1995. So, with that in mind, she went back to the evidence box, scanning for any and every tape that involved Doctor Samuel Loomis.

As she did so, she did attempt to calm her mind by reminding herself of this: No one who was sent here had managed to make it past floor B3. So, if anyone was to finally put a stop to this madness...

...it would most likely be Catherine.

The elevator doors opened slowly to reveal floor B3 to Michael. Now before him appeared to be a prison hallway with iron bars separating him from the rest of the floor. The Shape approached the bars slowly, ignoring a security camera placed on the ceiling when an alarm started to blare out. The sounds of several machinations from above alerted Michael, prompting him to look upward and see a minigun being deployed from the ceiling. Luckily, the masked murderer decided to hold on to Eddie's shovel after killing him and instinctively threw it into the weapon, slicing the barrels with the tool's spade, though not before the gun managed to fire two shots.

The bullets made their mark on Michael's right shoulder, a muffled grunt escaping his covered lips as he stumbled backward slightly. He brushed off the piercing pain within seconds as he grabbed his knife out of his pocket, observing his surroundings, expecting the head of this floor to reveal themselves. However, what happened instead was the sound of static coming from an intercom above the Haddonfield butcher, followed by a woman's voice.

"Hi there, Michael," the voice said.

Hearing this woman's voice caused Michael to turn to the security camera he previously ignored. The tone of the voice perplexed him. It sounded strangely upbeat and perky, though with a hint of something darker and unstable looming within.

"Darling, I must admit, I was hoping you would be able to make it this far," the voice continued. "When I heard that you were designated a sacrifice, I was practically dying with excitement over how I would be able to punish such a reviled and infamous criminal such as yourself."

Strangely enough, Michael swore that she heard this woman moan quietly. Does she get off by doing this? Clearly this individual must possess quite a sadistic mindset if that was the case.

"Oh, you're just such a vile and detestable sinner, aren't you?!" she suddenly shouted with sinister glee. "You must atone for all the atrocities you've committed, Michael! Oh, but lucky you! I've been given the duty and the pleasure of punishing you!"

Suddenly, she started bursting into a fit of maniacal laughter, prompting Michael to tilt his head in slight confusion. He had to inwardly admit, he had seen some completely unstable people during his fifty-five years confined in Smith's Grove...but were any of them THIS completely unhinged?

Then, the laughter stopped as the woman apparently regained her composure.

"Oh! Terribly sorry, I almost forgot," she continued. "How, oh how, am I going to do that when you're completely trapped? And seeing as though your surprising intuition managed to spare you from being killed by those guns earlier..."

Then a group of spotlights switched on, shining down on the Shape as audio of an audience applauding was played through the intercom and...confetti started falling?

Somehow, this predicament just kept getting more and more surreal.

"Good job, you passed!" the voice then congratulated, all while the iron bars that previously confined the babysitter murderer slid open. "Now then, let us get started, shall we, Michael?"

All finally went quiet after that, except for the Shape's muffled breathing and, eventually, his footsteps. As he traversed through the halls of this floor, he had several questions locked in the dark recesses of his mind. Who the hell was that woman? What exactly lied beyond these halls? How exactly was she planning on 'punishing' him?

And yet, amidst all that, one thing was perfectly clear to Michael. One simple thought. One simple command.

KILL HER.

"Finally," the cloaked woman said with a sigh. "I was wondering if that bitch would ever shut up."

With this newfound peace and quiet, she was now able to turn her attention to a tape that read 'DIAGNOSTIC REPORT - JANUARY 1965.'

*CLICK*

"Diagnostic report: January 7th, 1965. This is Doctor Samuel Loomis speaking. The child that I have been tasked with looking over, Michael Audrey Myers, is beginning to concern me. It has been well over a year now since he had been incarcerated in Smith's Grove, and yet he has not said so much as a word since then. He hasn't responded to any of my attempts to reach through to him with so much as any emotion. Worst of all, when I informed him of his parents' sudden and tragic deaths...nothing. No words, no violent outburst, not even so much as a single teardrop. Whatever this boy once was before that night two years ago appears to have now devolved into...into a sort of ghost, a mere shape of a human being...and I am growing more and more uneasy with what lies inside this boy's mind."

*CLICK*

Michael's trek through the hallways of B3 eventually lead him to a series of doors both to his left and to his right, as well as another iron blockade right in front of him. He attempted to open each of the doors but to no avail.

"My, you're an impatient one," the voice suddenly chimed in. "I thought that you of all sinners, Michael, would know that there's a certain procedure criminals must go through before their punishment can be assigned. Here, why don't I open up a room for you so you can get ready now?"

One of the doors to Michael's left then opened on its own, revealing a room that was clearly designed to take prison mugshots.

"I'm sure I don't need to explain this process to you, Michael," the voice continued. "Just be sure to make your mugshot nice and pretty for me. Oh, and don't worry about the camera, sweetie, I've made sure to set up a delay on it."

As he entered the room, the Shape noticed a box placed on a nearby desk. One that had a set of simply crafted name boards. He walked over to it and picked up the name board on the top of the pile. One that had his name written on it. Following the voice's instructions, he placed the game board around his neck and pressed the button on the camera. He backed into the large measurement chart on the wall right before the camera snapped and took the picture.

The voice was right about one thing. This was a process the masked killer was quite familiar with. And as the flash of the camera overtook his vision for a brief moment, his mind flashed back to the day Haddonfield's police department was tasked with snapping the mugshot of a seemingly normal six-year-old boy for stabbing his sister to death.

Once the camera projected the photograph, Michael grabbed it and held it up for the security camera to see. The sounds of iron bars sliding could be heard from outside the room. He walked out to see the blockade from earlier opening itself to him, allowing him to advance onward. As he did so, he noticed that the walls had several crude drawings etched upon them. The Haddonfield butcher could make out the drawings as a stick figure sitting in a chair, a face with x's where its eyes should be as well as what seemed to be small gas clouds, a syringe and a woman's face done in pink as opposed to black. Most likely the face of the woman in the intercom.

"Like my drawings?" said woman asked. "They're all of the glorious punishments that await you."

Silence was the only answer Michael gave her, prompting her to grunt in annoyance.

"Oh, everyone's a critic," she muttered. "Anyway, Michael, I'm giving you a choice. You see, there are many ways to punish a sinner like you. And I have quite a variety of painful punishments that lie beyond. But, if you'd like to go back to spending the rest of your life rotting in a cell, that's always on the table."

Again, the voice was only met with silence as Michael started to make his way to a door that lied in front of him.

"Aw, that's too bad," she continued. "I was hoping I'd be able to keep you forever."

A mad cackle echoed through the hallway as Michael started to open the door to the next room. Inside appeared to be an execution chamber with an electrical chair seated to the killer's left, a curtain separating the rest of the room to his right and a locked gate in front of him. He took several seconds to observe his newfound surroundings before stepping inside.

His first course of action was to attempt to open the gate, but that seemed to be for not as it wouldn't so much as even budge. Then, he turned to observe the electric chair. No doubt this woman was expecting him to get onto it, but why would he even consider attempting something such as that? With that decision made, he turned to the curtain, thinking there might be a way to open the gate hidden behind it.

But as he started to make his way to there, another minigun descended from the ceiling and fired several rounds at the masked murderer, the bullets made of rubber this time. The impact of each forced him back towards the electric chair, eventually forcing himself onto it. Metal clasps then wrapped around his wrists, forcing them onto the arms of the chair as several spotlights shined onto Michael as the sound of a drumroll started to play. The second it reached its end, a helmet came up from behind the chair and forced itself onto Michael's head.

As the Shape struggled to free himself, music started playing as a television screen slowly descended from the ceiling for him to see. It displayed what appeared to be a chibified woman with the words 'Cathy's Show' colorfully displayed beside her. The screen then transitioned to a woman in her late twenties to early thirties that had blonde dyed pink hair and was wearing a rectangular hat, a black short-sleeved blazer with a red tie and a mini pencil skirt.

She was the individual who was previously communicating with Michael through the intercoms. Her name: Catherine Ward.

"Hi!" she greeted. "I decided to join you via this television screen. After all, what good's a trial without a judge?"

Michael ceased his struggles briefly to look up upon the screen and see the one who had trapped him here with his own black eyes.

"I'm Cathy!" she introduced. "It's about time you and I got to know each other."

Without warning, an audio clip of an audience cheering played through the speakers, all while the Shape continued his efforts to free himself from Cathy's death trap.

"My, my, it seems as though our guest of honor has found himself in our electric chair! Why don't we take this opportunity to see just how much retribution that body of his can take?" she asked the imaginary crowd. "Oh, this is so exciting! It isn't every day we get such a celebrity to punish! I think my heart's about to beat right out of my chest any moment now! I JUST CAN'T WAIT!"

As she giggled to herself and clutched both arms around her chest tightly, Cathy's eyes suddenly widened with realization.

"Oh, oh dear," she said in a flustered tone. "Silly me. I've gotten so caught up in my anticipation that I completely forgot one of the most important elements of any execution. The audience!"

The crazed woman then brought up what appeared to be a rider's crop with a series of buttons on the handle and pressed one of them. This, in turn, caused the curtains that were in front of the electric chair to slowly reveal to the Shape what was on the other side. It was about two dozen wooden mannequins seated to where their eyes lingered upon that who was to be executed before them. Whirring sounds were suddenly heard as they lifted their heads upwards slightly, revealing a most surprising sight to Michael.

"See anyone familiar, Michael?" Cathy questioned.

Plastered on each of the dolls' faces were crudely cut out printed cardboard that showed the several faces the killer knew all too well. There were the faces of those he had slain, such as Bob Simms, Annie Brackett, Lynda Van Der Klok, Aaron Korey, Dana Haines, Ranbir Sartain and even his sister, Judith Myers. Alongside them were the faces of those his murders had impacted throughout his fifty-six-year killing spree, such as Sheriff Leigh Brackett, Tommy Doyle, Lindsey Wallace, Doctor Loomis...

...and Laurie Strode.

"A criminal's value is determined by the hate-filled stares of the onlookers who bare witness to his execution," Cathy darkly stated. "Their eyes will bestow sweet justice upon you."

The Haddonfield butcher then continued his efforts to free himself as the maniacal woman continued.

"Okay, boys and girls! It's time for this sinner to face his judgment. I'd like you all to watch closely. Trust me, you wouldn't want to miss the satisfying sight of this heinous murderer who's caused oh so much pain to you all writhing in agony, would you?"

Almost on cue, the dolls' heads started to shift from side to side.

"Alright, here we go! Are you ready, Michael?"

No response. Just the continuation of the masked killer's efforts to set himself free.

"It's...showtime!"

With that, Cathy slammed her heel on top of a triangular button with the word 'Heaven' printed on it. The gages of the nearby machinery started to turn as several thousand volts of electricity surged their way onto the electric chair...and then into Michael's body. The killer's body started to convulse out of control as parts of his flesh underneath his boiler suit began to burn.

And yet, despite the unbearable pain, he did not scream.

For he was not going to give this woman that pleasure.

Fifteen agonizing seconds passed before the assault on his body finally ceased and his body went limp. Smoke began to emanate from his body all while Cathy observed closely.

"Oh, is he dead already?" she asked herself.

It seemed that way at first, as Michael's body was completely motionless for quite a long period of time...only for his head to suddenly shoot upwards as he resumed his struggle for freedom, much to Cathy's surprise.

"Very impressive!" she commended. "Any normal person would've been fried for sure. Your reputation as a monster truly precedes you, Michael."

She then started to pour herself a cup of tea as a crazed look in her eyes slowly started to take over.

"That's exactly why I'm going to zap you over and over again! I want to see just how much punishment the perfect criminal can take before its just too much. Do try and hold on as long as possible, dear. The longer a sinner desperately tries to stay alive, the more punishment they receive before Satan finally collects his prize!"

With that same maniacal cackle, Cathy slammed her heal on the button again, allowing Michael to be shocked once more.

*CLICK*

"Doctor Samuel Loomis, January 22nd, 1979. Do you wish to give a statement regarding your former patient, Michael Myers?"

"My suggestion is termination. Death is the only solution for Michael. There's nothing to be gained from keeping evil alive."

Michael continued to fight the pain as he thrashed more and more violently, but even his limits were slowly starting to be reached the longer this went on. He knew that if he didn't find a way to bust out of this chair soon, he was going to die.

"A shot of sodium thiopental would render him unconscious. I'll be with him to make sure his life is extinguished."

As the electricity continued to surge through the babysitter murderer's body, he focused his eyes on the mannequins. Of the stares of all those he had affected with his murderous ways. But while his disdain most certainly spread towards all of them, there was one his anger was completely and uncompromisingly focused on.

And so, he set his eyes on one specific doll.

He set his eyes...on HER.

"My ear on his chest to hear for myself that his vitals no longer function, and immediately incinerate the body."

Meanwhile, Cathy continued to watch this sight with that same level of devious glee whilst taking a sip of her tea. She couldn't help but let out a chuckle as Michael yet again attempted to free himself.

"Driven mad by his own regret, the sinner inwardly wails in pain and begs for death," she said. "A pitiful, hopeless display of rage and sufferi-"

She stopped, however, upon hearing a loud cracking sound emanating from the execution room.

"Hm?"

"It needs to die..."

The wooden arms of the chair slowly started to crack as Michael continued to thrash his arms upward, all while maintaining his gaze on the doll that had Laurie's face plastered on it.

"...IT NEEDS TO DIE!"

With one final tug, the arms and metal clamps of the electric chair snapped off, allowing the Shape to get back on his feet and pull the helmet off of his head before tossing it right into the Tommy Doyle mannequin. The electrical surges had managed to take its toll on the masked murderer as he stumbled slightly while trying to pick his knife back up, but he quickly managed to shake it off before he started to make his way to the dolls. He knew that they weren't real, but staring at those faces for so long whilst being electrocuted had made that simple command run rampant throughout his mind.

KILL

He started by driving his knife through Bob's chest once again.

KILL

Then he sliced the head of Sheriff Brackett clean off.

KILL

He slammed the body of Aaron against Lynda before slicing his way through Lindsey, Annie and Doctor Sartain.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

Soon enough, he had managed to leave every single mannequin smashed, sliced, stabbed or a mixture of all three.

Except for one.

Laurie's.

Without warning, Michael grabbed the doll by the shoulders and forced it on the ground. He then grabbed his knife and started to stab the mannequin with such ferocity that it eventually caused the entire knife, handle and all, to go right through the wooden doll and into the floor, cracking the doll in half as he did so and causing its head to roll away from the Shape.

As he got back on his feet, Michael's black eyes gazed down at the head of Laurie's doll, almost as though he was completely entranced by his horrific action...until that woman's laughter snapped him right out of it and caused him to turn to the screen yet again.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" she shouted with devious glee. "Not only has your stubborn will to live kept you alive AND manage to set you free but even in what could have been your final moments, you didn't even try to suppress your evil impulses! I don't think I saw a single trace of regret for your sins in your eyes! In fact, you seemed to have embraced them! Oh, it will be so glorious when I finally-!"

Her words were cut short when Michael threw the head of the Loomis doll right into the television screen, shattering it upon impact. Unfortunately for him, though, the intercoms were still working just fine.

"Heh, heh, you know what, out of respect for your hard work, and because the next room just won't suite the punishment you certainly deserve, why don't we just skip it and go straight for the grand finale?"

That same sound of an audience cheering echoed through the execution chamber.

"So I'm a touch impatient to get my hands on you. Sue me. Besides, I have a feeling that your inevitable suffering is going to suit you very well, Michael."

The last thing the Shape heard from her was her all too familiar laughter while the iron bars that would lead him closer to his goal opened. Still saying nothing, Michael slowly made his way towards the opened gate.

It was all the same.

"He became an obsession with me until I realized that there was nothing within him, neither conscience nor reason that wasn't...even remotely human."

Dozens of interviews and all Doctor Loomis' archived voice informed the hooded woman was what she had already known.

"You're talking about him as if he were a human being...That part of him died years ago."

That Michael Myers was pure evil and possessed no hopes of being controlled for her collaborator's ambitions.

"I prayed...that he would burn in Hell...but in my heart, I knew that Hell would not have him."

It was practically like a broken record at this point, and the woman was growing more and more restless by the moment. It almost looked as though she was going to throw a tantrum at a moment's notice.

Still, there was one last tape she had of Doctor Loomis. One made in January of 1995. Just a few months before the good doctor passed away. With this being probably her last shot, the woman loaded the tape all with one thought in her mind.

'At least give me a goddamn reason why he kills. Maybe that could lead to something.'

As the Shape continued to slowly and silently skulk throughout the darkened hallways, he noticed a faint smell in the air. A most repugnant scent that suggests this area hadn't been cleaned for some time now. Then, the masked killer felt something grasp his leg. He looked down to see a nearly skeletal, malnourished hand reach from the iron bars beside him. A raspy moan soon followed.

"Kill...me..."

It was clear to Michael that this nearly dead man was one of Catherine's playthings. This was obviously what she meant by 'I was hoping I'd be able to keep you forever.' To have him be tortured day in and day out as 'punishment' for his 'sins.' The babysitter murder observed the man who begged to die by his hands, noticing that a portion of his face appeared to have been skinned off, one of his eyes was hanging out of his head, his arms had scars that were the results of both bullet wounds and stabbings and that he must not have eaten in several days.

"Please...kill...me..." he repeated.

Michael's head tilted curiously upon hearing that once more. He was used to his victims begging for him to spare their lives. Pleas that always fell upon deaf ears. It wasn't every day that someone would freely come to him and actually ask him to kill them.

Still, it was a request he was perfectly fine with obliging.

The masked killer then pulled his leg away from the bars, causing the body of the poor man to slide up against them before Michael slipped his right hand, butcher knife in place, through the openings. One stab in the back was all it took for the decrepit man to go limp, his blood splashing against the prison bars.

"Hey!" Cathy's voice suddenly shouted, for once without that sickly gleeful tone. "Now that was just rude! How would YOU like it if I came into your house and stabbed YOUR pets?"

Michael didn't even so much as look up to the security cameras. He was still observing the corpse of his newest addition to his ever-growing body count.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" Cathy questioned. "Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe that in the fifty-six years since you killed your sister you haven't even so much as asked what time it was."

That giddy tone of her's returned the second she finished that second with a bubbly yet sinister giggle.

"Not to worry, darling, I'm sure I can change that in due time," she continued. "Anyway, remember, you can still always spend your life in a cell, but after how rude you were a few seconds ago, this'll be the last time I'll make that offer."

Only then did Michael finally gaze upward to one of the nearby cameras. However, yet again, the madwoman was only met with silence as his answer.

"Tsk, how disappointing. Oh well. Just keep going straight, Michael, and you should reach the next area soon."

And Michael did just that. He continued along the path towards whatever this woman was planning for him next, eventually reaching a small room with a circular table right in front of the door that likely leads to the final room in Cathy's maze of horrors. Up above was a balcony, separated from the room by a clear, glass wall. The Shape's attention wasn't on that, however. Rather, it was what was on the table.

Two syringes, each filled with an identical liquid inside of them.

Before Michael could mentally try and figure out what this meant, more music started to play and the sound of a door opening from above was heard. The masked killer then looked up to see Cathy herself standing atop the balcony.

"A pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face, Michael!" she said. "Anyway, this one's real easy. Just give yourself a little injection and the door should open for you."

To emphasize her point, she pointed her rider's crop down at the two needles in front of the masked murderer, causing his haunting gaze to return to them.

"One has vitamins, the other is filled with, well, let's just say something that isn't quite as nourishing," Cathy furthered. "And just in case you wanted me to tell you which one is which, too bad, my lips are sealed. Not that it would matter, I may or may not have forgotten which one is which. Anyway, just inject every last drop of one of them and I'll be more than happy to open the door! Best of luck, filthy sinner!"

With a maddening cackle, she proceeded to turn and leave the balcony, leaving Michael alone once again. He looked down at the syringes, then back up to the sealed door before him. Even with his abnormal strength, the chances of him forcing it open were slim. Besides, there were two miniguns stationed nearby at the ceiling, so he concluded that Cathy would have him shot the instant he stepped towards the door.

So, his attention went back to the needles. He carefully analyzed the both of them, trying to find even the slightest clue that could tell him which one had the vitamins. Unfortunately, the liquids inside were completely identical to one another, leaving Michael with only one choice if he wished to be free: Gamble.

He looked back and forth at both needles for several seconds before finally coming to a decision. He grabbed the one that sat on his right and injected it into his left arm, pushing the liquids inside his bloodstream. Once the syringe was emptied, the door before him opened automatically. Wasting no time, the Shape tossed the empty syringe to the floor and started to walk through the open doorway and into another hallway.

The signs that the murderer had chosen poorly was evident immediately. He stumbled slightly as he lost his balance, his breathing got heavier and heavier by the second and his vision was slowly beginning to blur. Michael placed his free hand onto his forehead as he continued to struggle with the simple task of walking, his head feeling like it was spinning out of control. In the back of his evil mind, Michael started to grow a sneaking suspicion that, whatever poison that woman tricked him into injecting into his body, it was going to kill him.

And now, all Michael could think about was taking her with him if it's truly coming down to that.

He then saw a doorway at the end of the hall and regained his composure as best he could before trudging towards it, kicking it off of its hinges. The Shape stepped into the room, empty and with several dried up bloodstains practically coating it in red. In front of him was another glass barrier, this time separating the killer from a set that resembled a living room from the 50's as well as a series of monitors and a control panel.

His mind then shifted towards figuring out where that woman was this time, when, suddenly, a gunshot from above caught him off guard and a bullet pierced through his back and out his abdomen. A muffled grunt escaped Michael's masked lips as he fell to one knee.

Then, the laughter returned.

The babysitter murderer looked up to see Cathy standing in between the set and the monitors, her thumb pressing a button on her rider's crop.

"Hi!" she greeted. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you made it this far, Michael, but I'm afraid this is as far as you'll go. You've entered my firing squad room!"

Hearing that caused Michael to look upward to see several miniguns perched on the ceiling.

"You're surrounded with more miniguns that you can swing a knife at!" Cathy continued as she turned to her rider's crop and started to nuzzle against it. "And the best part is, I can control each and every one of them with this baby right here."

Just as the Shape managed to get back on his feet, one of the miniguns fired another bullet, this one striking the back of his left leg and forcing him back to his knees.

"Oops! Finger slipped," Cathy darkly remarked with a giggle.

The butcher of Haddonfield, however, got back up much quicker this time and started to clumsily trudge up to the glass, slamming his knife against it as he did.

"Aw, what's the matter? Feeling a little dopey? Those drugs must be really throwing you for a loop."

As Michael raised his knife once again, more bullets rained down upon him, two of them hitting him in the chest and causing him to fall over backward, dropping his weapon as he did so.

"You know, I always knew that you were quite the criminal, Michael, but so far you've been exceeding even my wildest expectations! The way that you surrender yourself to your sinful ways without any hesitation, it's been taking my breath away just thinking about it! I dare even say, I think I may have finally found him! The perfect criminal!"

Then, the glass doors opened, allowing Cathy to step into the firing squad room and approach the downed serial killer.

"And the perfect criminal...deserves the perfect punishment."

With a sinister chuckle, she kicked the knife away from Michael just as he tried to reach for it before driving her left heel into one of the bullet wounds on his right shoulder.

"Good thing I remembered to put those toxins in both of those syringes. I needed you nice and weak for our fun to properly begin!"

She kicked Michael across the side of his head, causing him to slide a few feet away from the madwoman.

"But, there's still one thing missing. I've always dreamed that the two of us would meet like this, and I've always wanted to be the one that could finally get the infamous Michael Myers to do one simple thing for me."

She then casually began to stride towards the downed Shape.

"Before you die...I demand that you say something to me."

Once the crazed woman reached Michael, she grabbed him by the hairs of his mask.

"And I think I know just the thing I want to hear from you."

She then proceeded to lift Michael's face closer to hers.

"What made you do it?"

*CLICK*

"When Michael Myers was six-years-old, he stabbed his sister to death. For years, he was locked up. Locked away in Smith's Grove Sanitarium...But he escaped. And suddenly, Halloween was another word for mayhem."

"What, pray tell, caused a seemingly normal, six-year-old boy to, out of nowhere, stab his big sister to death?" Cathy continued as she smashed her heeled foot against Michael's stomach. "Did the voices in your head tell you to do it?"

The maniacal woman then backed away from the masked murderer, directing her guns to shoot him twice in his left arm.

"Did you think you were under the influence of a curse?" she asked.

Suddenly, a gasp of realization escaped her lips as her eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, of course! What do most serial killers have in common? Why, they come from a dysfunctional family, of course!"

She approached Michael once more and slapped him across his masked face with her crop...

"Was that it, Michael? Did Daddy come home drunk and hit you one too many times?"

...then drove her heel into the bullet wound in his chest...

"Was Mommy too busy stripping to spend any time with you?"

...then punched him in the face repeatedly...

"You know what, I'll even accept that your sister was too busy whoring herself to her boy-toy that she forgot to take poor little Mikey trick-or-treating!"

...again, and again, and again.

"For over thirty years, I've been obsessed to find out what was going on inside of him. It's been my life work...and my ultimate failure."

"C'mon! Say something!" Cathy shouted as she slammed Michael's head against the concrete floor. "SAY SOMETHING!"

She was so caught up in trying to cause as much pain to the Haddonfield butcher as possible, that she failed to notice him slowly reaching for his knife.

"For three-and-a-half decades, I combed through all of his records. I spoke with anyone who ever knew him as a child. I tried everything in my power to answer just one simple question:...Why?"

"...And...if you don't mind me asking, Doctor Loomis...what exactly did you find?"

"...Nothing."

Just as Cathy was about to slap Michael again with her crop, the masker murderer grabbed his knife and swung it at her hand, slicing off several fingers and forcing her to drop her tool. She barely had any time to register the pain she was now in when Michael proceeded to stab her in the stomach before slicing it open. The madwoman gasped in shock as blood started to pour out of her wound and her entrails started to hang out slightly.

Back at the security room, the hooded woman heard the gasp and, her eyes widening in terror, instantly rushed over just in time to see Michael slicing Cathy's stomach open.

"No, no, goddamnit, NO!" she shouted, all while the tape continued to play.

"Michael Myers came from a completely normal family. One who loved him and nourished him as any family would. Anyone who knew him always described him as a normal, happy, little boy. They never could have even imagined what...what was taking shape inside him!"

The second Cathy attempted to get her intestines back inside her body, Michael smashed the back of his fist across her face, causing her to stumble into the glass wall. Her blood smeared across it as she turned her head in time to see the Shape moving his upper body to where he was sitting upright.

"This force, this thing that lived inside of him simply came from nowhere one fateful Halloween night and it...it grew inside him...contaminating his soul!"

Only now noticing she had dropped her rider's crop, she desperately tried to force the glass doors open as Michael approached her, fighting the pain she felt in her bloody stumps where her right fingers use to be and the open wound in her stomach, blood pouring out of it by the second. Unfortunately for her, it was of no use, as the doors wouldn't so much as budge by the time Michael reached her and grabbed her by her hair.

She tried in vain to free herself from his iron grip before the killer lunged her face right into the door, cracking it and breaking Cathy's nose in the process. He did so three more times, the cracks getting bigger and more of Cathy's blood staining it, before, with the fourth lunge, the doors completely shattered. The shards managed to somehow avoid the madwoman's neck, but one did manage to slice her left eye. She cried out in pain right before Michael pinned her up against the concrete wall.

As he tightened his grip around Cathy's neck, all while she continued her futile struggles, Michael looked down to see Cathy's rider's crop right next to him. He bent down, maintaining his hold on his victim and picked it up with his mangled left hand. He then allowed Cathy to fall to the ground as he moved the crop to his right hand. Too weak to get back on her feet, Cathy could only look up and see the Shape gazing down at her.

A chill ran down the madwoman's spine upon seeing those two, black eyes.

The Devil's eyes.

"There is no deeper meaning behind this...this monster's ways! The simple truth of the matter is...Michael Myers is, and always will be...pure evil."

Suddenly, Michael rammed the crop right into Cathy's damaged left eye, completely obliterating it in the process. The crazed woman screamed in agony as she grasped the crop, seething in anger as the Haddonfield butcher slowly started to back away from her.

"You...vile, detestable, wretched sinner!" she shouted as she attempted to get her tool out of her eye, then, oddly to Michael, had her lips twist back into that maddening grin of hers. "Oh, I love it! I LOVE IT! You better get ready, Michael. Your day of reckoning is here! Go ahead and keep making that stupid look all you want! It's not going to matter! I'LL MAKE SURE YOU DIE SCREA-!"

Her insane rambling was only silenced when a bullet shot right through her forehead and exited the back of her skull.

She was so caught up in her tangent that she failed to notice that, when Michael drove her tool into her eye, one of the buttons was pressed to activate the miniguns.

All of them.

And they were targeted right at her.

An onslaught of bullets followed immediately afterward, shredding bits and pieces off of Cathy's body with every hit, all while Michael simply stood by and watched the carnage unfold before him. The wall behind here was practically being painted red by the second as her flesh and organs were being completely decimated. Then, after fifteen grueling seconds, the miniguns finally ceased firing.

All that was left of Cathy was a mangled, blood-stained skeleton lying in a massive, crimson puddle that was mixed with bone fragments and even one or two pieces of her brain next to her skull. Michael noticed that her rider's crop was still lodged into her eye socket. He then approached the corpse of his newest victim and grabbed it, looking down at it for several seconds before letting it fall to the floor, where he proceeded to smash it with one stomp of his boot.

Once that was done, the Shape made his way to the shattered glass door and exited the firing squad room, approaching the control panel. He carefully observed it before pressing a red button that caused the door next to the panel to open on its own.

Upon seeing another angel fall before her eyes, the hooded woman shook with anger before suddenly grabbing the evidence box and tossing it into the screens, shattering them upon impact.

"Fuck...Fuck! FUCK!" she shouted.

It was obvious that she had had enough of this disaster continuously unfolding. Made even worse was the haunting message the late Doctor Loomis had given her. She had allowed Michael to continue to run amuck through this building for nothing. All in the vain hopes of foolishly trying to control him as her collaborator intended. She should have just heeded her initial protests and doubts and tried to end this the second Michael stepped foot in floor B6.

She then swiftly turned around and exited the security room with a new goal in mind: End this.

Now.

The elevator doors opened once more, revealing floor B2 and a suspiciously mundane looking hallway to the Shape. The only thing that stood out was that candles were illuminating the halls rather than the usual lamps. Michael's head tilted in a perplexed manner, obviously having been so used to the absolute madness he had to endure. He then stepped out of the elevator car, advancing through the hall on high alert, gripping his bloodied knife tightly as he did so.

His travels eventually lead him to a door placed to his left. Michael reached for the handle and turned it, expecting yet another locked door like he tended to come across, but that was not the case. This time, the door opened with absolutely no opposition. Somehow, this was an oddity to the masked killer, having been used to the complications the other floor masters gave him.

He couldn't help but wonder...What was this master's game?

A room shrouded by darkness greeted Michael as he stepped inside, maneuvering through the shadows with ease. Then, the sounds of a pipe organ echoed throughout before the candles on the walls somehow started to light themselves. As the light slowly started to cast out the dark, the room the Shape found himself in revealed itself as something that resembled the interior of a church. In front of him were two metal doors and a wooden pulpit with a book placed atop it.

Assuming this book might have a clue of sorts as to how to get out of here, Michael began to step towards it, only for one of the candles to fall to the floor, setting the red carpet ablaze...for all of a second before the inferno turned into a thick, purple haze that began to overtake the room. The scent of it was oddly sweet as it began to run through Michael's lungs, dizzying him and causing him to fall to his knees.

Then, upon blinking, the smoke was gone and the babysitter murderer was standing upright just a few inches away from the pulpit. Confused, Michael looked around, expecting the floor master to reveal him or herself, but nothing came about. So, he opted to return to what he was previously attempting to do. He looked down at the book that was now before him and started to read in silence.

"The ones God desires must be clean and devoid of falsehood. So who are you? Ask yourself that question. Are you a desirable sacrifice, or are you an angel? Or even if you are neither, if you truly hope to find God's salvation, reveal and confess all your sins."

The Shape noticed something appear on the door to his right. A sheet of paper plastered on it. Michael turned and walked towards it to read what it said.

"What is Thy name?"

Of course, Michael did not answer. And his patience was starting to run thin. So, rather than obey the message's request, the butcher of Haddonfield simply tore the sheet off and forced the doors to open with his bare hands.

More purple smoke greeted him the instant he stepped inside. Candles to his left and right giving off a most ominous atmosphere as he approached a small chai seated in the middle of the hallway. Placed on it was a small, empty, glass vial. Michael bent down to pick it up before noticing something being written above him in mid-air.

"Spit out your sins."

A confused Michael's head tilted at the sight, only to then notice something being written to his right.

"And that will be your proof."

Then, something behind him at the other end of the hall.

"What do you feel as you gaze upon the proof?"

Then, something to what was originally the killer's left.

"The doors opened so that you can know the stains you bear."

These four sentences barely gave Michael any time to wonder just what they meant when they started to glow a deep red, encircling the masked murderer at a rapid pace before turning into that same violet smoke. More of the haze practically exploded beneath Michael, blinding him for a few seconds before fading and revealing a mirror on the wall to him. Seconds passed with the Shape simply staring at his reflection before more sentences started to write themselves in the mirror.

"Look at yourself."

"A sacrifice, or a lost sheep...or a demon?"

"The only thing God wants is..."

"...you without lies."

Both of Michael's hands started to grip the vial and his knife tightly in frustration. What lies was this thing referring to? 'Look at yourself.'? All he could see in this reflection was him and only him.

As his irritations grew, he failed to notice the smoke developing beneath him as the writings continued.

"Are you just an ignorant?"

"Or are you hiding the true yourself?"

Then, the mirror began to crack.

"Here is the Confessional."

It cracked again...

"To leave..."

...and again...

"...collect your own pieces..."

...and again...

"...and know the true yourself."

Suddenly, the mirror shattered into several hundred pieces out of nowhere before floating all around Michael as he thought back to one of the sentences.

'Collect your own pieces.'

Perhaps...perhaps if he started to collect these shards...was that what it was trying to get him to do? And if so, what purpose did it have? Even still, if it meant his freedom, he'd be willing to oblige. So, with that in mind, he placed his knife back in his pocket and grabbed the shard closest to him.

The darkness that previously engulfed this room then faded whilst the writings returned, forming on the frame where the mirror once was.

"Spit out your sins."

"If you don't know..."

"...tear up and drag them out."

The violet haze began to engulf the Shape once more, blinding him before fading into blackness. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a triangular-shaped room, writing to his left. He turned to read it, when, out of nowhere, a voice echoed from the depths of nothingness.

"Can you recognize your sins, Michael Myers?" a male voice questioned as more writings emerged from the three walls that surrounded the serial killer. "If they are blacked out, then the only explanation is that you have done so yourself. Did you erase them? Or did you not realize that they were sins? If you've lost your own sins, then make them complete again. You must accept every sin that flows forth."

The walls shrunk down into the floor as it started to morph from a triangular shape to that of a square. Four violet walls then rose upward, each revealing a framed picture of someone before the babysitter murderer. Michael slowly observed each of them, recognizing the faces of them all. He himself knew them not by name, but they were of the four lives he had claimed on Halloween night, 1978.

Christopher Hastings.

Annie Brackett.

Robert Simms.

Lynda Van der Klok.

"This is your confessional," the voice continued. "Spit out your sins. Accept your sins. Tear up and drag them out. Tear up and drag them out!"

He continued to repeat that same phrase, slowly being joined by the voices of Michael's four victims.

"Tear up and drag them out! Tear up and drag them out!"

So this must have been these 'sins' Michael was told about. His murders. Still, one thing lingered in the killer's mind: What made this person think he had tried to lose them? To black them out into the deepest, darkest depths of his mind? He knew exactly what he was doing taking life after life during three separate Halloweens. He knew that he would be looked down upon. Deemed a monster for his atrocities.

And he was perfectly at peace with that.

The evil within superseded any and all self-consciousness.

So why was this floor master continuing to waste his time?

As he wondered about the answer to that very question, he failed to realize that something was emerging from Lynda's portrait. It was the ghostly, topless form of Lynda herself with a bruised neck from where Michael strangled her with a phone cord. It was exactly the way she appeared the moment she died.

But with one difference: Now SHE had a phone cord in her hands.

Suddenly, while Michael was distracted, Lynda swiftly wrapped the phone cord around her killer's neck and tightly pulled back on it. Michael reacted by grasping the cord in an attempt to free himself. As he did so, three more ghostly figures emerged from the other three portraits. Christopher and Robert, both with large, bloodied holes in their chests, and Annie, whose throat was slit open.

"Tear up and drag them out!" they, along with Lynda, shouted. "Tear up and drag them out!"

In his ensuing struggle to free himself from Lynda's grip, Michael had accidentally managed to allow his knife to fall out of his pocket and land in front of Annie. Grinning sadistically, Annie picked up the knife and raised it upward, aiming it directly above her murderer's chest. The killer continued to struggle to both breathe and free himself when he noticed that he still had that glass shard he had gotten earlier. Acting upon instinct, Michael swung it backward towards Lynda, stabbing her in the neck as he did so.

Blood started to gush out of Lynda's neck as she released Michael to try and stop the bleeding. Now freed, the butcher of Haddonfield managed to grab Annie by the arm right before his knife made its mark on his chest. He took the knife from her and stabbed her in the stomach, causing her to fall to the ground, dead once more, before Lynda joined her back into the afterlife.

Now with only Christopher and Bob left, Michael slashed Christopher's throat open as he charged towards him before grabbing Bob by the shoulders and forcing him to the wall, just as he did forty-one years ago. This time, however, as Bob yet again struggled, Michael simply grasped his neck and snapped it like a twig with one, swift motion.

Michael had no time to admire his handiwork, however, as all four corpses suddenly exploded into that same purple mist, bringing Michael back to that same triangular room he was in before. This time, though, there was one picture hanging on one of the walls.

A painting of two lambs. A male and a female.

Siblings perhaps?

A brother and...his sister?

"Michael..." a sad, groggily voice called out.

Hearing that voice caused Michael's head to shoot upwards in surprise. He knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

His sister. Judith Myers.

"Mi...chael..." she repeated.

Suddenly, a bloodied hand reached out to the masked murderer. The Shape backed away slightly as more of this ghostly body emerged from the painting. Slowly, but surely, the form of Judith's topless, blood-stained body crawled out of the picture before falling to the ground. She looked up to her younger brother with tears flowing from her eyes.

"Why...Why, Michael?" she asked, clearly choked up. "Why...would you...do this...to me?"

She began to crawl towards her killer, blood staining the carpets she dragged herself upon, all while Michael continued to look down at his sister.

"Did I...did I make you mad?" Judith asked. "I...I was going to take you trick-or-treating that day...I...I promise...Was it that? Michael...whatever it was...I'm sorry! Michael, I'm sorry!"

She gazed upon her brother's eyes, clearly hoping for any sign of forgiveness. But her still heart dropped when she took one look at those piercing, black eyes.

There was no sign of forgiveness.

No remorse.

No regret.

No pity.

Nothing.

Judith's ill-faded apology was instead met with Michael raising his knife upward, ready to commit this most terrible deed all over again, as the tears started to flow from his sister's ghostly eyes once more.

"Michael...No, please! MICHAEL!"

The knife came swiftly down upon her back as she screamed out in pain yet again. Michael then pulled his knife out and continued to stab his sister, each time causing more and more blood to stain the painting she came out of.

He finally stopped after stabbing her a ninth time.

Just like he did over five decades ago.

Once Judith's body went limp a second time, the Shape turned his attention to the blood-stained painting before looking down at the glass vial he acquired earlier. If these awful deeds he has committed were indeed 'sins,' then his sister's blood would be proof. Proof to the floor master that he, in fact, has 'accepted' them. So, with that in mind, he placed the bottle bellow the painting, blood dripping off the frame and into the bottle.

Another purple haze then transported Michael to a darkened hallway, candles illuminating it ever so slightly yet again. He started to walk forward, paying no mind to the mysteriously bloodied footprints he was leaving behind before making it to a closed door. The masked killer could hear the sounds of a pipe organ once more, convincing him to push the doors open to see what was on the other side.

The interior of a chapel greeted his eyes as he approached the instrument that was making the harmonious sound he had heard...playing itself strangely. In front of it was another pulpit with another open book for Michael to read in silence.

"What is it that you need to confess? And are you certain that your heart truly desires to be redeemed from sin? Can you bear to lift up your iniquities to the Lord as they are now? More importantly, you lack the ability to recognize a sinful heart. If you wish to be saved, reveal your impurities here in this room."

As he wondered just what that meant, Michael noticed a painting nearby. A painting of Mary with the wings and halo of an angel as she hovered over the kingdom of Heaven. He started to approach it while looking down at the vial that contained his sister's blood, an idea forming in his head. Once he reached the painting, he lunged the vial forward, allowing the blood to splash all over the painting.

This action seemingly caused every single key on the organ to press themselves, the sounds now louder than before as the purple smoke started to encircle Michael. The noise of the organ would normally be enough to cause any other person to fall to their kneed and cover their ears. Michael, however, simply remained where he was, practically motionless as the onslaught on his ears continued.

Then, the smoke relented, the stained-glass windows shining brightly to cast out the darkness and illuminate the house of God for the killer to see. Footsteps were heard coming towards him, but Michael did not turn around to see who was approaching him until he finally spoke.

"Hello, Michael," said the same voice Michael heard earlier.

Only now did the Shape turn to face this man. Standing about twenty feet away from him was a tall, middle-aged man with short black hair, carrying what seemed to be a Bible and wearing a long purple cloak with golden lining, a golden cross necklace, and a black suit vest with a white buttoned shirt underneath. No doubt, based on his wardrobe, this was the priest of this church. Most striking of all, however, was his eyes. There interestingly seemed to be no pupils on them, suggesting that he might be blind.

Unknown to Michael, this was the floor master of floor B2: Abraham Gray.

"I had anticipated that this might happen," he stated. "That you would not be satisfied with our generous proposal and try to escape. I suppose I have no one but myself to blame. Still, I was most curious to try and discover what may have turned you into what you have become."

Hearing this caused Michael's head to tilt to the side curiously.

"Yes, Michael, I am the one who brought you to this facility," Gray answered for the silent killer. "If you don't mind, allow me an explanation as to why myself and my collaborator have brought you here. All it will cost you is merely a moment of your time. Afterward, you will be free to do as you please."

Michael, of course, initially planned on charging straight for this man and killing him then and there, but he knew that would be foolish given that this man may have the information he'd need to get out of here. So, he decided to simply stand before him in silence, listening carefully for any clues or slip of the tongue. At that point is when he would strike.

"Since I was young, I have studied the behaviors of those who claimed to worship God," Gray began. "You see, Michael, what I discovered is that faith can be every bit as blind and ugly as it is beautiful. So many are quick to use God as a tool to rebut anyone with whom they might disagree with, or flaunt his image to benefit their selfish ambitions. Bizarre, wouldn't you agree?"

The priest was only met by Michael's silence as his answer.

"I wondered at that moment, how does God feel about that? Knowing that his servants behaved in such a detestable way. So, I decided to place myself in the position of God. Inside this building, I planted and tended to you all like seeds in a garden. Those I placed at the bottom on floor B8 are test subjects, sacrifices, if you will, to aid in my studies. To watch and judge these subjects thoroughly, I needed to enlist the help of angels. Angels who would kill without hesitation. Angels such as Isaac, Danny, Eddie, Cathy...and you, Michael Myers."

With every second, Michael's right hand slowly gripped the handle of his knife tighter and tighter, his patience once again running thin. Any second now it seemed the serial killer was going to snap and just kill this man and find his way out himself.

"I had assumed, at first, that Isaac would be my most intriguing angel, with his inherent ignorance of anything but his desire to shed blood. And yet, you, Michael, have interested me more so. The way that you have surrendered yourself to your violent tendencies. The way that you have gone about it without even the slightest hint of remorse. How you have claimed lives without any hope to be bargained or reasoned out of it. How you have managed to overcome any and all threats that dared to oppose you. That is why I deemed you a perfect fit to become one of my angels. That is why I'm afraid...I cannot simply allow you to leave this place."

Hearing those words caused the grip the Shape had on the glass vial to strengthen tremendously, causing it to shatter.

"You have put us in quite a predicament. You have wounded one of my angels and murdered two others. To continue my experiment, I'm afraid I have to compensate for that. Luckily, I believe that you will more than make up for that, Michael."

Having finally had enough of this man's babbling, Michael began to storm his way towards Gray, unaware of that same violet smoke emerging from the vents behind him. However, before either could reach their targets, a plastic wall shot out of the floor, separating Michael from Gray and vice versa, while the smoke was sucked back into the vents. Surprisingly, this caused Gray's blank eyes to widen slightly, telling Michael that he was not the one that did this.

"GRAY!" a voice shouted.

Michael instantly recognized that voice. It was the woman from the tape recorder he discovered when he first found himself here. He and Gray looked up to a balcony to Michael's left to see the hooded woman looking down at the two of them.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?!" she asked, sounding like she was about to explode with rage at any second. "After all the shit this man has pulled, you STILL think you can control him?"

"He has left us with no choice, Amanda," Gray reasoned, maintaining a calm tone in his voice. "If we want this experiment to conti-"

"One of our angels was mangled, two others were killed, Gray!" the woman, now identified as Amanda, interrupted. "I don't care too much about that little shit, Eddie, but I was grooming Catherine to carry John's work should anything happen to me!"

"Yes, an unfortunate outcome, but-" the priest attempted to state.

"But nothing!" Amanda shouted. "I tried to warn you this would happen. Michael's caused far too much trouble than he's worth. Just let him go."

"Amanda-" Gray attempted to reply.

"Let. Him. Go," Amanda practically snarled. "You might see yourself as God in this building, but don't forget who helped you make all of this possible in the first place. Don't forget that YOU came to ME for John's blueprints. Don't forget who REALLY pulls the strings around here!"

Seemingly unphased by this, the priest silently took Amanda's words in before reaching a conclusion and turning to face the butcher of Haddonfield once more.

"There is an elevator behind the organ that will bypass floor B1 and take you outside," he explained. "You have my word that no harm will come to you."

"Find your way back to Haddonfield from there, Michael," Amanda added. "Just get the fuck out of here and stay out."

Michael slowly weighed the words of both Amanda and Gray in. He naturally considered trying to break through the plastic barrier and murder these two for what they put him through, but ultimately decided that he had wasted so much time trying to escape this place and just wanted to be done with it so he could go after those who he truly desired to kill. So, wasting not a second more, the Shape turned around and headed towards this secret elevator to his now inevitable freedom.

Gray let out a quiet sigh of defeat and turned back to the balcony to speak with his collaborator once more...only to see that she was gone.

Amanda slowly entered her quarters and turned the lights on, illuminating the room with a sickly greenish-yellow hue. Inside her quarters were several blueprints lying on a crafting table, several horrific, homemade, rust coated machinations, some of which were stained with dried up blood, and a spare robe with a pig mask hanging above it.

As she turned to said pig mask, her thoughts drifted to how this mess began in the first place.

GJN agent Debra Carpenter's eyes slowly opened to find herself lying on her bed. Her mind tried to trace back to what had transpired earlier. She had just changed into her uniform when a figure, dressed in a black and red robe and a pig mask, shot out of her closet and placed a chloroform soaked rag onto her mouth and nose, causing her to lose consciousness shortly afterward. In a panic, she jumped out of her bed and pointed her gun in any direction the intruder may come from, only for nothing to happen.

Then, she turned to her dresser and found a small tape recorder with the words 'play me' written on a piece of tape. She slowly approached it, tense all over her body, and grabbed it before pressing the play button.

"Hello, Debra," a woman's voice began. "If you don't want to die a slow, and painful death, then I suggest you listen closely. There's currently a deadly neurotoxin coursing through your body as we speak. It is said to cause death within six hours. The toxin was injected one hour ago, so that leaves you with a mere five hours. I am the only one who contains the antidote, and to acquire it, you must do something for me. You are currently scheduled to guard the body of Michael Myers as he is transferred to an undisclosed location from Smith's Grove Sanitarium. One hour after you depart, you are to hijack the truck that is transferring him and bring him to a different location. The coordinates will be sent to your phone the instant this tape stops playing. Know also that I am watching you, Debra. If you speak of what you are instructed to do, you will die. And if you think that I'm bluffing, well...I was able to get into your apartment, wasn't I? Now, Debra, make your choice."

Amanda watched as a GJN armored truck pulled into the building. She opened the doors to see the unconscious body of Michael Myers strapped to a slab, a box labeled 'evidence' nearby and the dead bodies of five GJN agents, each with a bullet hole in their heads. She then closed the doors and slowly walked to the driver's side of the vehicle, where she found Debra, tears flowing as she breathed heavily, no doubt filled with regret over what she had done.

"I...I gave you what you wanted..." she sobbed before coughing loudly, no doubt thanks to the toxin. "W-Where's the antidote?"

"Here," Amanda bluntly answered as she pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Debra's head.

Before the GJN agent could react, Amanda fired her weapon, causing Debra's body to jerk backward and for blood to splatter all over the passenger side window.

As the memories flooded back to her, Amanda went to the crafting table and placed her hands on the sides of her head while looking up at a newspaper that was placed on the wall.

JIGSAW KILLER CAUGHT: POSSIBLE ACCOMPLICE STILL AT LARGE.

The woman then grabbed the sides of her hood and pulled it backward, revealing the face of a survivor and protégé of John Kramer, AKA the Jigsaw Killer: Amanda Young.

"Don't worry, John," she whispered. "Wherever the GJN took you, know that your legacy will carry on as you intended."

Outside the building, Michael slowly stepped out of the open doorway, taking a second to feel the now organic Autumn breeze in the air before making his way through the streets of whatever town he was in. As he did so, laughter started to fill the air. The laughter of children. Of trick-or-treaters. Indulging in a day of sweets, innocent scares, and traditions that they will be nostalgic towards for years to come.

Little did they know, however, of the evil that was among them. An evil that hauntingly overtook the spirit of the Halloween season.

An evil...that was coming home once more.

[1] - As built up in part 11 of The New Frontier