Dwight could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. His heart hammered up in his voice box, forcing his wails of emotional pain to become drowned out into barely anything at all. It made him feel all the more pitiful, to not even be able to mourn openly for the friend of his he had come to trust with all of his might.

Ace gripped his shoulder with rough fingers, his eyes peering from over his shades with a look of almost fatherly concern. His eyes, which had seen much more than what Dwight had, were sparkling faintly with a pity for the boy beside him.

"Dwight, we need to move. Now." Dwight nearly felt his head roll back behind his shoulders, as if his limbs were that of a newborn kitten's. A numbing sensation crawled over his fingertips as he lifted his head, tears streaming down like an unending river. "We can't sit here and mourn. We have to go. Now."

Ace was right but all he could see behind his eyelids was the godforsaken sight of Meg, lifeless and slit open like a lone deer. The numbness spread to his knees as he was hauled upward to his feet into a more proper crouch, Ace leading him along by the front of his filthy shirt. As they moved, an air of sympathy and despair hung over them both like a miasma, stinging their lungs and muffling their senses.

The ex-manager found his footing, soon patting at Ace's hand to tell him he was okay before responding verbally, "I'm okay." Using the back of his hand, he wiped at his eyes from under his glasses, knowing the steam will eventually go away if he stopped thinking about Meg.

She would come back.

Right?

Licking his lips, Dwight followed behind the older man with less grace to latch onto the nearby generator. The man kept talking to him in a low tone as happy-go-lucky Halloween themes played from the radio's of the house that they had sat by.

"Start thinking of an escape plan. Can you jump over fences? Can you hide in lockers without making a noise? Can you run around a bend faster than Mikey?" Dwight stopped working for a moment, completely caught off-guard by the nickname for the dead-panned serial killer. Ace noticed the silence and looked up, soon snickering and glancing back down with his cap bill covering his eyes furthermore.

"Hey, just a name. You know what they say. 'Say his name enough times and he'll appear right behind ya.'" A feeling of paranoia clung to his stomach, causing him to turn around to look over his shoulder nervously. Nothing. Not a heartbeat, a rustle, nor a white face.

The boy sat himself a bit more closely to the generator, feeling uneasy no matter where he looked or did. He merely focused on the contraption as best as he could, his fingers quivering like small sticks in a hot burn pile.

Ba-thump.

He stopped in his work and spun around, his heart moving back up into his throat with swift speed, so much so he felt the urge to vomit. Just nearby was Claudette, her back against the corner of a white-sided house as she waited. Given by the direction of where she was looking, that was where he was. Dwight frowned. Judging by the way he was coming, the killer must have looped around the house and was now coming right back without a single bat of an eye.

Ace wasted little time and pushed Dwight's backside, hissing "Move!" before moving to duck down low in the bushes and other shrubbery. Catching his footing, the ex-manager tore off between the perfect picket fences. With that heartbeat starting to ring in his chest and his ears, it meant only several things. Michael Myers was not far from his current destination.

Dwight passed by car after car, hoping to stray away from the sounds of imminent death. Even though he had never been hooked before, there was a feeling of empathy he had felt with Meg and Claudette, becoming hooked for- What was it? The Entity.

He stole a glance upward, eyeing the darkened sky as it swallowed Haddonfield like an endless black hole of the galaxy. There was not a single star, much less any moonlight. All he could see was the flickering lights of the streetlamps and the shining police lights. Sparkling crimson and blue, they flashed like warning signs, even as the heartbeat finally died away. With a fearful gasp to collect his nerves, he began to find the nearest generator and get down to work.

As he came upon it, sparks flew, hot and red with the intent of burning his hands. A large dent was in the side but it somehow remained working. Was this someone's shoe print on the side of the old metal? Whatever it was, it had stopped the contraption from further working. He set to work on it, matching the wires, untangling the pipes and clearing out any oil spills. Honestly, the oil and gas would probably be so stained into his clothes that they wouldn't wash out for weeks. Even more so from his nose.

As the final piston began to gradually move, the heartbeat started like an awful hymn of Hell. Dwight felt fear and determination swell within him, a part of him becoming merely uneasy with just leaving this generator like this, nearly done and then left to deterioration.

Dwight kept working, thrusting his hands further into the metal workings to get into the worst gunk. Congealed oil and rusted slowly began to compile up beneath his nails, with the stench of mold causing him to shove his nose and mouth against his bicep. It was an awful smell but he had to get it done, even though he could feel the intensity of death right on his shoulder.

The heartbeat didn't go away but neither did it speed up with anticipation of death. Sweat began to crawl over his lower lip and behind his neck, his fingers beginning to shake.

"Come on, come on... Work with me you stupid-"

In a brilliant explosion of light from above, the generator turned on, illuminating a wide spotlight on the street. With a quiver in his knees, Dwight moved to a stand and began to look around, eyeing any high shrubs or the spaces between concrete and parked cars.

He worried no more as he saw Michael, standing still behind a tree with black eyes and his bloodied knife in hand. A terrified squeal left him, piercing the air as he realized the man had merely been stalking him from just the other side of the street for however long he had pleased and Dwight hadn't even decided to look around at his surroundings.

The male tore off so fast he stumbled right into a fence. The edges dug deeply into his stomach and hips, leaving large scratch marks of red as he fell over the other side, his hands digging into the grass. Streaks of oil blackened the cold grass as he stumbled to a stand, lunging up the steps to the closed door of a home. He latched onto the knob and used whatever adrenaline he had left to try and tear the door off the hinges or push it open but his heart sinking, there was no way he could get past the lock from the inside.

His hands slipped across the old handle, causing him to curse as he tried twice to knock it down with his shoulder then his foot. With it jarred open enough, he could see the chain to the door, locking it from the inside. Without even beginning to ponder how far away Michael was, he shoved his hands through the small gap and reached for the locked chain. If he could get through this door and loop around the furniture, he would have a chance!

As his fingers touched the icy cold lock, success lodged itself into his throat for just a moment until it was replaced by a feeling he couldn't describe. It was as cold as dread but lodged deeply into his chest. A white hand silently placed itself next to his head before sweeping smoothly across the rough wood for the knob. Dwight watched his fingers wrap around the metal piece before Michael slammed it shut on his wrists. The sound of crunching bones and the sheer pain caused him to scream. All feeling was lost in his fingers with little time but came back violently as the door slightly opened and then was shut again, fully breaking both of his wrists.

Dwight's scream was lost as the blade sliced through his right lung, then past his rib cage and into the sternum. Once then twice. All white pain began to cease as his body dropped, the last feeling of sweet release dripping from his lips.

Michael watched him drop, wrists mangled by the door and the life in his eyes gone.

A fine job. What a beautiful soul to keep for me. All mine to gnaw and consume until I watch them bleed again. Your next target is nearby. No, no. It is not she. Not yet. Only when the doors open do you have a chance.

Your princess will come to you. I can promise that.

A feeling of disbelief washed over Ace as he heard Dwight's screams. Never before had this man experienced terror like this. There was only times when he had witnessed it when a bet of his money washed all of his chips away, all of the coin vanishing to another man of business. But this was different.

Meg was gone. Dwight was surely dead. In his arms now was Nea, her throat swollen already from the tourniquet that crushed her windpipe. Gore spilled from his open stomach, so much so that Ace felt his hands tremble. The man was killing these kids left and right. He wasn't even sure if Jake, Claudette or Laurie were okay.

"I'm sorry, kid. I wish I could have saved you." He set Nea down, pulling off her beanie to lay it over her face. "I'll see you at the campfire." Never before did he have this much hope brewing in his gut like this, like fermented beer that needed to come out. There was little to rely on now except the last few generators. With a glance up, he could see three were on. Even now, that wasn't that many, forcing him to stomach everything he had seen and get back to work on the previous generator he had been chased from.

The crunch of leaves behind him, midway of his work, caused him to jump. So much so that a loud spark of an explosion triggered the generator. He cursed and looked up from the ground, seeing a horrified Claudette. She was eyeing Nea, without any doubt in Ace's mind, but now they couldn't afford to stick around. Moving to his feet, he grabbed her arm and began to run for the backyard of a home, hoping to duck within the rose bushes and remain as incognito as possible.

"A-Ace?" Her voice quivered like badly strummed strings. "We're going to die, aren't we?"

Oh how he wanted to say that they would make it out alive. It was so easy to just say things but even he had regrets. This awful feeling that wouldn't go away had penetrated deep within his voice as he spoke as naturally as possible. "Just keep your head down."

The two nestled themselves into the corners of the fence, hiding well behind the bushes that pricked at their faces and hands. Open skin in this area was almost as painful as getting a generator blown up in your face. Then again, neither one was fun as they sat and waited.

Ace eyed the sky, looking around for any nearby generators. However, there wasn't a single lamp in sight that would indicate the location of a possible generator. Though it was not unusual, it was still unfortunate as they waited with baited breath, listening to the heartbeat pound with no remorse against their sternums. Once the killer had supposedly passed by, Ace grabbed the shaking botanist by her right sleeve and began to stumble quietly out of the shrubs, watching for a white face. Despite how Mikey was a full-grown beast of a man, his white face still made him blend in well with the white decor of these perfect homes.

The two made their way around, watching the crows and the hooks that seemed to have no need in being there. The man seemed to kill not out of spite nor greed, but simply because he was looking for Laurie. Myers stalked the grounds, watching for movement that could possibly be his sister and anything else that happened to catch his eye was doomed to death for the Entity. If they were even working together, of course, but he wasn't so sure. Nothing coordinated as to why this man was here but there was also a certain idea that Ace would have to be prepared for anything.

Claudette whispered the gambler's to get his attention. As he turned to her, she mutely pointed to a silent generator, which sat quietly near the road and covered in vines. Though it was impossible for it to have sat there for eons, Ace ultimately decided that he shouldn't question anything in this horror film.

Second after second ticked by as they worked, grime reaching up to their wrists and making slippery fingers even more opportune to slipping up and cracking the generator to a blazing spark. No matter what, they couldn't afford a single slip-up. Keeping their wits about them, they kept an eye out for the white face that danced among the leafless limbs of trees.

Ace felt his heart skip a bit as the radios played the dreaded theme. However, there was a slight difference. Ace raised an eyebrow, catching the different tune. What the hell did that mean? Maybe it was just being weird?

Two of the four pistons began to work, proving that the generator was halfway done just as Laurie climbed over a picket fence, ducking down low to cross the street. Ace stole a glance towards her, watching her eyes glimmer with hope and determination, even as her hands were coated in blood and oil. Whether teammate or foe, there was no reason he should question as the three began to work in silence, their emotions mingling into a thought cloud that shared the same heat of the sparking wires.

"So, Laurie," Ace muttered, "ever fixed a genny before?"

The blond looked up at him, a sudden innocence coming over her features before she shook her head sheepishly. "No. I've rarely ever done something like this. I'm sure you have."

A quiet grin spread over his grizzled face before he quietly laughed. "Nope, not a day in my life." Both girls became wide-eyed and particularly slack-jawed. "What? Just because I have a couple years of old under my belt doesn't mean I've done everything under the son, girls."

Laurie looked to Claudette. "What about you?"

The female shook her head. "No. I've...I've only ever messed with plants, not mechanics."

Ace observed the third piston moving now. This was progress as he figured the chit-chat would speed up their nervous hands. They worked more fluidly and less on adrenaline now. As they quietly spoke, their eyes glanced around; down the street, through the windows, around the bushes and along the rooftops. Not a sight of the madman. Not yet at least.

The choir from the radios started up with his theme once more, the pitch changing once again, but with more volume and noise than the first or the original. He watched them stop and he quickly cleared his throat. "Hey, let's go. Don't waste any time." Though his tone was gruff, he tried to be as gentle-sounding as he could as he turned to look at the pistons. They only had a little bit left to go...

Silence muffled their words, though small conversation was made on the idea who they were. Sorrow filled Ace's heart as the idea of Michael catching all of them captured itself like a gruesome photo behind his eyelids. Everytime he blinked, there Mikey stood, clutching the iconic knife with his face of white staring at the heap of bodies; the kids he had already gotten attached to. They were a brilliant team, with so much for their future, even though they didn't know it yet. Yet, here they were, to live a nightmarish life. Ace could understand himself being here to at least a degree, but not these kids.

The light of the generator brought himself out of his thoughts, causing him to look up at the brightened shade with a little bit of hope in his heart. From the distance, with the howl of the exit gates, another generator blossomed across the many homes of Haddonfield. Claudette was the first to move.

"Let's go. That must have been Jake, or-or Dwight!" She nodded with determination, so much so that his heart ached. What was he going to say to her when they got to the exit gates and no one else was there?

"But-" Ace turned, looking at Laurie who had such doe-like eyes his chest burned. "I..." she began, soon trailing, "What about Michael? Won't he be able to?"

Claudette began to move to a stealthy march, motioning for Ace and Laurie to follow. Ace grinned, feeling her determination as he lowered himself closer to the ground. The botanist began to explain as they went along the empty, flashing street.

"No. They've always stopped at the exit gate once we get out of their ground. We don't know why but we believe a bit that it's because there's a certain ground of safety outside each area. Which, of course, is past the exit gates."

Ace nodded slightly, showing he understood until he began to think back. He could only remember escaping through the hatch thanks to Nea. A cringe cloaked over him as he remembered her swollen face. The poor girl suffered until death, that was something he felt in his gut.

"Do you know what stops them, Claudette?" Laurie asked. With confidence came the response.

"The Entity. A being that has called murderers and poltergeists. As well as us. Don't know why yet, but...it's like this is a game to them." She interrupted herself by pointing. "There! The exit!"

Ace began to view around the picket fences and homes, eyeing for the face of ghoulish alabaster. The handle hissed as the old mechanism began to unlock from within. Though it was satisfying, the lack of Mikey's theme and heartbeat put him off quite a bit. Where was he? Surely he knew of the reason of the giant, iron doors and the broken generators.

With a screech, the door began to slowly open up. Feeling sweat hugging the entirety of his back, the man moved forward and grabbed at Claudette's wrist, knowing she was looking for the others. He was tempted to ignore her tugging and complaints but he decided it would be better to put her mind to a naive rest. Ace looked at her from over his shoulder, smiling a little.

"They're probably at another exit. Come on, we need to go. If this is open, they'll come too." She seemed to relax a little but still seemed reluctant. Regardless, she nodded and began to follow him into the open plain.

As they walked, Ace turned his head over his shoulder. For once, he could hear his heart beat hard all on its own as Michael stood behind Laurie, all hope on her face leaving her bone structure, tears staining her face like rain.

He wanted to go back. He wanted to desperately claw back to try and do something. The urge to crawl through the dusty grass to just simply retrace his steps and save her. He gritted his teeth and turned away, running with a frightened Claudette back to the blackness before them all.

How did he not hear Michael's heartbeat? Why wasn't there a noise!? Not a scream, not a word, not a sound...

Ace did not dare turn back to face a Michael Myer's and his sister's corpse. There was something simply too painful about the pictures and events behind his eyes that brought his teeth grinding together.

No matter what, no apology felt clean. Not now, not ever.