Vans pulling up to the campsite, car doors slamming shut. Music. Laughter. Incoherent babble.
Teenagers.
They always brought the same things with them; the same sounds, the same luggage, the same rotten tongues, the same vile minds. It made Jason shiver with both anger and disgust. Anger, in that they always seemed to come to defile his camp, his lake. Disgust... well, even he couldn't begin to count how many terrible things they were capable of, and not afraid to carry through with. Their very existence disturbed him, and yet they came in all their numbers to his camp as if to taunt him, as if to spit in his face and tell him that no matter how many of them he slew, no matter how many of their bodies the police found strewn across the land, they would always exist, and they would always come back.
He knew someone was behind him now, though he wasn't sure how he knew. The Shape behind him was silent in its footfalls and in every other aspect of it. Perhaps he had simply sensed, rather than heard, the other's approach. Either way, he was no longer alone as he stood in a wooded area looking down upon his soon-to-be victims.
We will take care of them, Jason. We always do, it said not for the first time.
This was something that never ceased to unnerve Jason. Michael was intelligent, he knew, perhaps far too intelligent, for it always seemed to be able to read him like an open book. He wasn't bothered by it, rather, he wasn't too sure what to make of it. It seemed to add to the mystery that enveloped the Shape, as if there wasn't enough mystery about it. Funny, in a way, how those black eyes could take one glance at the world and immediately define it, recognize it and use it at its will, while it itself had no definition. It was unexplainable and unpredictable. This wasn't so much troubling to Jason, but still, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly went on in that mind behind the mask, and what exactly made it tick the way it did.
Unfortunate that he couldn't have known he wouldn't be the only one with that same interest, then.
I know, eventually came Jason's reply, though he still did not take his eyes away from the teens below. It just seems so...
Monotonous.
That was another thing about Michael. Not only did it seem to know what he was thinking, but it had such a way with words, for one who never spoke. Jason himself had never been good with words. Communication at all when he was a child... a living, breathing child... was difficult for him. But now, with Michael, who he conversed with using thoughts, everything seemed different. The words seemed to come more smoothly in his head than he ever could say them aloud in life. Still, he had trouble, not that Michael seemed to mind, though. It was patient, and always seemed to have a word available for exactly what Jason was thinking.
Yes, monotonous. A word Jason never would have been able to say, or even comprehend back then. But now it seemed so much easier.
I just feel... he went on, though wasn't entirely sure what to say. He turned to Michael, who was simply gazing at him calmly, patiently.
I feel like I'm waiting for something. The words didn't sound right, but they had to suffice. I feel like I'm waiting for something... different. Maybe for one of them - here he motioned towards the teenagers below -t o be different. I don't know, Michael. He shook his head, exasperated. I really don't know...
Jason looked back up to meet the other's eyes, or lack thereof, to find that neither its gaze nor its posture had changed. The blackness where those eyes should be behind that white mask seemed contemplative.
I understand, came the short reply that pertained to Michael Myers. It made no move to continue, simply walked up to the taller man's side to follow where his gaze had once been set. It stared for a while, like it often did, and Jason didn't interrupt. One thing he had learned about the Shape long ago was that prompting it to speak - or think, in their case - only discouraged it from doing so. Jason knew that it would speak, if it wished, in its own time.
I think, Michael began not long after, surprising Jason that it had responded at all, let alone so quickly. Well, quickly when it came to Michael, at least. I think we should introduce some new variables.
What do you mean?
There are plenty of ways to kill, Jason, and not all of them involve slashing and stabbing.
He wasn't sure, but Jason swore he could see a maliciousness shrouded in the darkness behind Michael's mask. Being undead, Jason was afraid of very few things. But those seldom moments where emotion could be found behind that blank, expressionless mask frightened him more than anything could.
Many ways, Michael went on. Do you know what fear does to people, Jason? Do you know how easily their minds can snap? And do you know... what happens when they dosnap?
Jason didn't answer. Michael had a very, very dark side of him, he knew, but it still sent shivers even uphis spine. It was very different from the usual blank, emotionless side of him that Jason knew; the side that his mask portrayed so well. But was that really all that side of him was? A mask? What darkness... what evil lie behind that mask? He would never know, because even now he could sense that evil slipping back into its depths, and that mask coming back into place.
Michael looked to him, his eyes back to their pure black. No hints or traces of any emotion. Devoid of everything. When it spoken again, or rather, when it made its thoughts known to the other, its thought-voice was still the same; it had never changed. Even when that... darkness had crept to the surface, never did its thought-voice change tone, not once, and this made it all the more frightening. Never had his voice changed from the monotone that it always was. The blank, almost mechanic way of speech, had never left it even as Jason could feel the... evil radiate off of him. It was scary, how even in its own mind, Michael's indifference never changed, even when something within it clearly did. Or perhaps, nothing had changed at all. The Shape's mind was far more complex than anything known to man... Jason supposed he shouldn't even try to begin to comprehend it. Yet still that nagging feeling of curiosity... of wanting to know more... of -
It would seem your attention lies... elsewhere.
Jason blinked. He realizes that he's been staring into those black eyes for a while now. He fidgeted uncomfortably. Mother always told him it was rude to stare.
Michael studied him for a moment. You're curious about me.
It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Even so, Jason nodded slowly, still a little uncomfortable.
Those black eyes never left his, for long enough of a while that it was slightly disturbing. Finally lowering its eyes slightly, as if thinking, Michael asked him, Would you be interested in something to sate your curiosity?
Jason's eyes widened slightly. Was he really offering that? Michael always struck him as a reserved individual, and he was right to think that. Yet now the Shape seemed to be dismissing that, if only the tiniest bit. Yet again Jason nodded, unsure of what the other had in mind.
Michael must have been contemplating that answer, for it did not take it long to respond. Then I propose a solution. Allow me to take care of the campers. You watch. Observe. Perhaps you will learn something that will satisfy your interests.
With that, it turned and walked unhurriedly away until Jason could see it no more.
Indeed, Jason did watch Michael that night, and what a sight it was. He had always been more direct about the way he killed. Whether it was slashing with his machete or impaling with a fire poker, the campers always ended up dead by his hand.
Such was not the same tonight. No, tonight, something entirely different happened. It had gone the usual way the first one or two kills, with stalking and stabbing in the night. Afterwards, however, something very strange happened.
Now Jason killed without taking much enjoyment out of it. He killed for Mommy, and he killed to keep people away from his camp. Michael, however, seemed to think killing more of a hobby, what with how slowly and deliberately it went about it. But something else. The Shape toyed with its targets in a way Jason never had.
The boyfriend was dead. Normally Jason would have continued on his merry way to the next victim, but not the Shape. No, it stopped to relieve the young man of his clothes and don them for itself. The undead killer hadn't the slightest idea as to why; that is, until he saw what happened next.
The girlfriend was skinny-dipping out in the lake. Upon the Shape's approach, she seemed frightened for but a moment, then laughed.
"Kenny!" she called, a large grin on her face despite her chiding words. "Cut that out! Where did you even get that?"
The Shape didn't answer.
"Kenny, come on," she beckoned, wriggling her shoulders suggestively, the water still concealing her breasts. "Come and swim with me," she said in a tone that could only be described as sultry.
The Shape didn't move.
Her brow furrowed slightly at the lack of response. Normally her boyfriend would literally jump into the lake, never passing up on an opportunity for their naked bodies to slide together in the water. Yet now, he was just standing there, and it was pissing her off.
"Ugh, what is with you? You're not getting any tonight," she groused, swimming to the shore where her clothes were lying on the pier. As she lifted herself up out of the water, the entirety of her naked body was exposed to the chill of the air.
"Dammit," she swore, realizing she'd forgotten to bring a towel. Not in any mood for her nonresponsive boyfriend to be ogling at her, she hastily went to work pulling her shirt on over her wet head to hide her nakedness.
By this time, the Shape had stepped onto the pier, approaching her slowly.
"Forget it," she said as it approached. "You had your chance. You blew it."
The Shape simply stood there in silence.
As she made to push past it, it grabbed her by the arm, which earned the holler, "Hey! What is your-" She never had a chance to finish, for Michael was lifting her into the air, its thumbs jamming roughly up into her eye sockets. She screamed, predictably, but it went unnoticed by the other campers, who were all tucked cozily away in their cabins.
Her screaming finally died down and her half-naked body went limp in its hold. It dropped her body carelessly onto the pier, uncaring and perhaps even hoping that her body was discovered.
The teenagers' fear in the air as they discovered the bodies was as thick as peanut butter. And in their fear, and paranoia, they turned on one another. It had been an honest mistake the first time. One of the campers who'd had enough sense to bring a hunting rifle got a little trigger happy when he thought he saw the Shape round a corner, only for it to be one of his friends.
The next incident was not quite so innocent. Alerted by the sound of the gunshot, the friend's lover came bursting into the cabin, only to see their paramour lying dead and a gun-wielding maniac standing above his corpse. Mr. Trigger Happy dropped the gun, raising his hands as if trying to communicate that this was a mistake, this isn't what it looks like -
The lover did not take heed of his unspoken words. Instead, they lashed out at the other man, taking a nearby cast iron skillet and bashing his head in with it. He repeated the offense until the man stopped twitching on the ground.
One person dead, and not even by Michael's hand.
The panic that ensued afterwards was something to marvel at. The lover had come to the remaining few campers in blood splattered clothing from his vindictive kill. They immediately were suspicious of him, he who not hours before had been one of their friends, but now was something entirely different now that they were all under the influence of fear.
They didn't kill him in the end. Or at least not directly. Locking him out of the safety of the cabin was what did him in, though, for he was quick to fall to the Shape's blade.
That left only two, a boy and a girl.
Something told Jason from watching the next showdown that Michael didn't like men. The women it played with, but the men it slew without any pretense of games, as if they were simply in the way of the real fun. This was made very apparent by the way it drove his head into the wall time and time again without pause until his head was a pasty mess.
The girl had run out the door while this was happening. A pity. Some young women would have fought it. Laurie would have fought it. But running away was nice, too.
How it caught up with her while the girl was running full speed and Michael was taking slow, deliberate footsteps was something Jason didn't think he'd ever understand. All the same, it did eventually catch up with her, trapping her in an old barn. Out of desperation, she grabbed a pitchfork, ready to do battle with it. The Shape merely tilted its head. The good time for that would have been while it was occupied with bashing the skull of her boyfriend.
Michael didn't even bother dodging her attack, the pitchfork sinking deep into its abdomen. Upon seeing that it didn't just crumple over anddie, the fear in the girl's eyes increased exponentially, which was made very evident in the way she screamed. Her fear was obviously what the Shape had wanted from her, for it was quick to put her down with a wide sweep of a scythe to her midriff.
When her gurgling finally stopped, all was silent.
Jason approached Michael from where he had been watching, feeling very strange to having been a mere observer rather than an active partaker.
That was... Jason trailed off. He didn't have a sufficient adjective to describe what he had just witnessed.
Michael answered him with silence, the darkness in his eyes seeming contemplative.
A thought did occur to Jason after a while, though it was a question he had asked before.
Why do you play with them? The girls, I mean?
For quite some time, the Shape did not answer. When it did, however, something in its thought-voice had changed. They remind me of Judith.
Who is that? Jason asked it.
Michael simply shook its head, saying, Perhaps one day I'll tell you. For now, let's see to the bodies, yes?
For the rest of that night, the two were silent.
Author's Note: The way I write for Michael has changed over the years. I refer to him as an "it" now, mostly to describe just how inhuman it is. I've strayed away from the possible empathy aspect of it in favor of pursuing that more "pure evil" explanation. I hope it turned out okay. :3