-10-
FAMILY REUNION
Michael zipped up the overalls, and went over to the table to pick up the mask. For a moment, he hesitated, and stared down into its black sockets. It seemed to look back up to him, and Michael had to push away the nagging thought that it was daring him to put it on.
A silence filled the room, and Tommy sighed. When he had told them his plan, Michael had given him a penetrating glance, and for a moment, Tommy thought he could see a look of murderous intent in his eyes. But then the look was gone, and Michael agreed to the plan without a word.
Tommy was actually, in retrospect, surprised that Michael hadn't put up more of a fuss. After all, he could hardly blame Michael for being apprehensive about what he was asking him to do. Michael then took a deep breath, and pulled the mask over his head.
Kara and Tommy exchanged a glance each identifying the other's sensation of eerie déjà vu. For Michael, the experience was like slipping back into a snake's skin. An overwhelming sensation of claustrophobia surged through him, and silently, in the guise of the Shape, he made his way to the van, and climbed into the driver's side. Kara and Tommy followed suit and climbed into the back. Michael started the van up, and they were rolling.
The plan was simple – Michael, posing as one of the Shapes, was going to infiltrate Smith's Grove County Sanitarium, and retrieve Stephen from where they were holding him captive. Upon his success, Michael had added his own second beat to the plan, in the form of high caliber explosives.
Michael still retained some memory of the weekly rituals of the cult, and provided things hadn't changed much, there was always a weekly communion. The assumption was that while most of the cult was busy at the ceremony, fewer eyes would be kept on Stephen, thus making it easier for Michael to slip in. Secondly, after Michael retrieved Stephen, he would set up the explosives to the building, taking most, if not all, of the cult out in one thunderous explosion, including Loomis, who would be preoccupied with the ritual.
Of course, their plan wasn't foolproof. Most of it depended on the element of surprise. It was unlikely that Loomis had predicted Michael to show up on the scene, thus, Loomis probably assumed that Kara and Tommy were disposed of. The absence of the Shapes over the last couple of days would set up no immediate alarms, as Michael recalled himself having gone renegade for days before returning to the cult's quarters, during the years of his numerous rampages. Therefore, when Michael showed up on the scene, the guards would likely let him walk on by, without question. The plan seemed all too easy, in theory.
Of course, getting in was likely going to be a whole lot easier than getting out. Still, the number of guards that Michael had to contend with would be fewer, and he was confident that he could dispose of them before any alert was triggered.
Michael parked the van just outside the main gate, and turned back to Kara and Tommy, giving them one last glance.
"Good luck," Tommy said, and he had meant it. Part of Tommy's mind went back to the nagging sensation that he could be sealing Stephen's fate by sending Michael to retrieve him; Methos' warnings about Michael's possible relapse into evil had certainly not gone unheard. But Methos was also right about another thing – Michael was the only one who could do the job. Thus with time being an issue, Tommy kept the little warning of Methos' to himself, and decided to take the chance. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures, and they certainly made for interesting bedfellows.
Then, without a word, Michael left the van and approached the main security gate. The guard at the front saw him walking up, and reached for his walkie-talkie.
"Carl, it's Mitch. One of the Castle boys just showed up."
"Is it Frank or Nick?" An electronic impression of a voice fired back with a static crackle.
"How the hell am I supposed to know? They're twins. What, am I supposed to tell them apart by their stunning personalities and their gift to gab?" Sign him in. Loomis is expecting him. I'm buzzing him in."
"Roger," the electronic voice signed off.
"Don't call me Roger," Mitch tossed his walky-talky to the table, and opened the gates.
The guard lived approximately a full thirty seconds before Michael entered the gates and broke his neck. Michael then entered the main corridor, and made his way down the hall.
His first stop was just outside the main chamber room in the basement, in order to verify his hunch. Sure enough, things hadn't changed a whole lot in 10 years, and the service was in full swing. Michael experienced a slight chill at hearing the Doctor's voice in the throes of the ritual. It put him at odds; so strange to hear that voice saying those words. Michael didn't spare a second glance, and proceeded.
Next, it was back up the stairs to the main lobby. Michael went over to the secretary's booth. A sign read on the desk: "Back in 5 minutes". A good time for the secretary to step out; lucky for her. Michael disabled all of the magnetic seals on the locks of the patients' doors. He then went from room to room, pushing all of the inmates out into the hall, doubling catatonics up with others to move them through the building. They moved like zombies, not questioning, nor really even conscious. They all did seem to have a built in sense of freedom however, and made hastily to the exits.
Michael worried that he was taking a great chance letting the patients out to roam the street. But the idea of blowing them up in the explosion didn't sit too well with either him or the others. Besides, the place was more or less a minimum- security institution, and it was located enough out of town that they would likely just be picked up wandering the fields. After all that's what happened the last time Michael tried this little trick during his escape in 1978, and it had created a wonderful distraction for those members of the staff oblivious to the cult's presence at the institution, who were interested in actually doing their jobs.
Now, time to get Stephen out of here, Michael thought. Logic prevailed that they would be holding Stephen in a confined section close to the chamber room, segregated from the main floor to avoid detection from intrusive health inspectors and other officials likely to stop by during the day. Sure enough, he found Stephen in one of the holding cells, with no more than a single guard. This was going to be easier then Michael thought.
The guard was reading a book, when Michael began to silently approach. Michael was tremendously light on his feet for his size, and the guard hadn't noticed him until Michael was right on top of him. The guard barely had time to look up when Michael grabbed him by the neck and launched him into the power generator. The guard screamed as the electricity surged through him, and the panel box burst into flame, and then, just as quickly, went out. The room went black for a moment, then the hum of the back-up generator fired up. The emergency lights painted the room in a cool blue.
Michael reached down and grabbed the guard's master keys from his belt. With a single twist, Michael opened the lock to the cell, and stared at the boy cowering in naked fear in the corner. For a moment, Michael lost his breath, momentarily taken aback by the sight of the child. He had never seen the boy up close before, and was dumfounded.
Looking at Stephen was like looking back at himself, through time. The boy was his spitting image, as he had looked before he was scarred by the touch of the Evil. Michael froze with indecision for a moment, then slowly approached the boy.
Stephen's eyes widened with fear, and his breathing rose and fell in hard pants. He began to panic. Michael knelt down to face the boy; his white facemask barely inches from Stephen's face. Michael pressed a single finger to the lips of the mask, gesturing silence. He then held out his hand gently, and opened it. In his hand, he held Tommy's lucky rabbits' foot. Recognizing it, Stephen understood, and, a bit apprehensively, took Michael's hand. Michael lifted the boy up, and made his way back down the hallway.
The boy was tremendously light, and Michael suddenly thought of how easy it would be to crush the small child in his arms. He could picture its small bones crackling like twigs, as his massive arms mashed the small boy to jelly. For a moment, the killer instinct flushed through Michael's head, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
No.
It would not have him. He could feel the Evil's presence, trying to squeeze its way back in, and he pushed it away. As quickly as the sensation had overcome him, it was gone. Michael doubled his pace, and made his way with Stephen down to the front door.
Suddenly, a security guard came out of the washroom, and spotting them instantly, he drew his gun.
"Hold it! Just where in the hell do you think you're going with him? Put him down. Now!!"
Slowly and casually, Michael placed Stephen, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, onto the floor. The guard walked over to the boy, and bent down to retrieve him, taking his eyes momentarily off of Michael. It was his last mistake. Michael's hand fired out, and mashed the guard's head into the wall. It popped like a grapefruit, as puss, blood and brain-matter spurted from it, in heaves. Stephen screamed at the sight of the obscenity, and fainted, in shock.
As Michael reached the outside gate, Tommy and Kara burst out of the van to meet him and Tommy took the small boy from Michael's arms. Kara rushed after Tommy to the van, to tend over the child.
Once the boy was secure, Tommy tossed the explosives to Michael. Tommy climbed back into the van with Kara, to try and wake Stephen as Michael turned his attention to the explosives. Michael had almost secured them, when he heard a strangely familiar voice from behind him.
"Michael."
Michael thought his ears were playing tricks on him. He turned, and came face to face with a ghost.
Before him, stood his sister, Laurie Strode.
"When did you start playing with bombs?" She was smiling widely, but Michael could see the look of pure hate in her eyes. "I always figured you more for the hack and slash type."
Michael stood, dumfounded, as Laurie casually ambled up to him, her hands behind her back, with a slight dance to her stride.
"So…have you got a hug for your little sister?" She said, and laughed.
Michael blinked, still trying to comprehend whether or not his mind was playing tricks on him. Then the crowbar came slamming into his head, and he knew in a wave of pain that she was very real.
He reeled back, and when he turned back to face her, the crowbar came flying back into his face a second time. Then a third. A forth. He tried to get a bead on her, to grab the crowbar, but she was so incredibly fast.
He lunged at her, and she jumped back. She leaped with a spin in the air, and delivered a roundhouse kick straight into his forehead. Once again Michael staggered back, and Laurie spun the crowbar around like a baton, bringing the curved end's claws straight into the back of Michael's neck. The crowbar dug deep into Michael's neck, tearing deep into his flesh.
Finally, Michael mused, through the pain. He grabbed the crowbar, and pushed her back, hard. Laurie fell back momentarily, but rebounded back on her feet with a flip-up, worthy of an Olympic gymnast. Her fist fired like missiles into his face, in a series of whiplash blurs.
Brackett found himself cracking a smile as he stared at the struggle through his telescopic lens. That crazy kid, he thought. She had insisted on facing him initially on her own, and at first Brackett had thought she had lost her mind…again. Now, however, he found himself mesmerized by the woman's sheer tenacity.
Go get him kid, he smiled to himself again. If only Annie could see you now.
Former Sheriff Lee Brackett, father of Annie Brackett, Michael's first victim from 1978 and Laurie's best friend, prepared the rifle and waited for his mark. Laurie was one tough little bitch, but she couldn't keep it up forever. Even though she didn't show it, he knew she was tiring. So he readied the rifles, and waited. His moment came shortly after.
Laurie's fist streaked out one final time, and Michael finally caught it. He gave it a small squeeze, bringing Laurie instantly to he knees.
"Brackett! NOW!"
Michael arched back at the sensation of several large tranquilizer darts stinging his back. His grip on Laurie faltered, and she snaked away, and reached for the crowbar again. She swung it up, and smashed it into his left knee. Michael's balance nearly gave, and he spun around in a drunk's stagger, when the overwhelming light of a van's high beams blinded him.
"This is for Annie, you son of a bitch!" Brackett gritted his teeth and floored the accelerator. The van smashed into Michael, and he rolled over the top of it. He came spiraling to the ground and impacted hard, with the sound of meat slamming against concrete echoing the streets.
Incredibly, Michael managed to stand, when the van came flying back in reverse. This sent him hurtling through the air, and this time he landed on his head. He did not get up again.
Like two professionals hog-tying a wild animal, Laurie and Lee quickly began to fasten a series of shackles, ropes and chains.
At the sound of the commotion, Tommy and Kara rushed to the back of the van and opened it. They swung the doors open just in time to see Laurie and Brackett fastening the last of the restraints and throw Michael into the back of their van.
Both Kara and Tommy's jaws dangled open, and they spun to meet each other's gaze, in mutual shock.
"Holy shit!" Tommy struggled to talk.
"My God! That's my cousin! That's Laurie!" Kara responded, completely overwhelmed with surprise.
"Laurie? But I thought she was dead!"
Before they had any more time to sort things out, the other van was speeding off. Hastily, Tommy and Kara jumped into their van and followed.
Michael lied in the darkness for what seemed like forever. When he awoke, he was dangling from a chain above a meat grinder.
FAMILY REUNION
Michael zipped up the overalls, and went over to the table to pick up the mask. For a moment, he hesitated, and stared down into its black sockets. It seemed to look back up to him, and Michael had to push away the nagging thought that it was daring him to put it on.
A silence filled the room, and Tommy sighed. When he had told them his plan, Michael had given him a penetrating glance, and for a moment, Tommy thought he could see a look of murderous intent in his eyes. But then the look was gone, and Michael agreed to the plan without a word.
Tommy was actually, in retrospect, surprised that Michael hadn't put up more of a fuss. After all, he could hardly blame Michael for being apprehensive about what he was asking him to do. Michael then took a deep breath, and pulled the mask over his head.
Kara and Tommy exchanged a glance each identifying the other's sensation of eerie déjà vu. For Michael, the experience was like slipping back into a snake's skin. An overwhelming sensation of claustrophobia surged through him, and silently, in the guise of the Shape, he made his way to the van, and climbed into the driver's side. Kara and Tommy followed suit and climbed into the back. Michael started the van up, and they were rolling.
The plan was simple – Michael, posing as one of the Shapes, was going to infiltrate Smith's Grove County Sanitarium, and retrieve Stephen from where they were holding him captive. Upon his success, Michael had added his own second beat to the plan, in the form of high caliber explosives.
Michael still retained some memory of the weekly rituals of the cult, and provided things hadn't changed much, there was always a weekly communion. The assumption was that while most of the cult was busy at the ceremony, fewer eyes would be kept on Stephen, thus making it easier for Michael to slip in. Secondly, after Michael retrieved Stephen, he would set up the explosives to the building, taking most, if not all, of the cult out in one thunderous explosion, including Loomis, who would be preoccupied with the ritual.
Of course, their plan wasn't foolproof. Most of it depended on the element of surprise. It was unlikely that Loomis had predicted Michael to show up on the scene, thus, Loomis probably assumed that Kara and Tommy were disposed of. The absence of the Shapes over the last couple of days would set up no immediate alarms, as Michael recalled himself having gone renegade for days before returning to the cult's quarters, during the years of his numerous rampages. Therefore, when Michael showed up on the scene, the guards would likely let him walk on by, without question. The plan seemed all too easy, in theory.
Of course, getting in was likely going to be a whole lot easier than getting out. Still, the number of guards that Michael had to contend with would be fewer, and he was confident that he could dispose of them before any alert was triggered.
Michael parked the van just outside the main gate, and turned back to Kara and Tommy, giving them one last glance.
"Good luck," Tommy said, and he had meant it. Part of Tommy's mind went back to the nagging sensation that he could be sealing Stephen's fate by sending Michael to retrieve him; Methos' warnings about Michael's possible relapse into evil had certainly not gone unheard. But Methos was also right about another thing – Michael was the only one who could do the job. Thus with time being an issue, Tommy kept the little warning of Methos' to himself, and decided to take the chance. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures, and they certainly made for interesting bedfellows.
Then, without a word, Michael left the van and approached the main security gate. The guard at the front saw him walking up, and reached for his walkie-talkie.
"Carl, it's Mitch. One of the Castle boys just showed up."
"Is it Frank or Nick?" An electronic impression of a voice fired back with a static crackle.
"How the hell am I supposed to know? They're twins. What, am I supposed to tell them apart by their stunning personalities and their gift to gab?" Sign him in. Loomis is expecting him. I'm buzzing him in."
"Roger," the electronic voice signed off.
"Don't call me Roger," Mitch tossed his walky-talky to the table, and opened the gates.
The guard lived approximately a full thirty seconds before Michael entered the gates and broke his neck. Michael then entered the main corridor, and made his way down the hall.
His first stop was just outside the main chamber room in the basement, in order to verify his hunch. Sure enough, things hadn't changed a whole lot in 10 years, and the service was in full swing. Michael experienced a slight chill at hearing the Doctor's voice in the throes of the ritual. It put him at odds; so strange to hear that voice saying those words. Michael didn't spare a second glance, and proceeded.
Next, it was back up the stairs to the main lobby. Michael went over to the secretary's booth. A sign read on the desk: "Back in 5 minutes". A good time for the secretary to step out; lucky for her. Michael disabled all of the magnetic seals on the locks of the patients' doors. He then went from room to room, pushing all of the inmates out into the hall, doubling catatonics up with others to move them through the building. They moved like zombies, not questioning, nor really even conscious. They all did seem to have a built in sense of freedom however, and made hastily to the exits.
Michael worried that he was taking a great chance letting the patients out to roam the street. But the idea of blowing them up in the explosion didn't sit too well with either him or the others. Besides, the place was more or less a minimum- security institution, and it was located enough out of town that they would likely just be picked up wandering the fields. After all that's what happened the last time Michael tried this little trick during his escape in 1978, and it had created a wonderful distraction for those members of the staff oblivious to the cult's presence at the institution, who were interested in actually doing their jobs.
Now, time to get Stephen out of here, Michael thought. Logic prevailed that they would be holding Stephen in a confined section close to the chamber room, segregated from the main floor to avoid detection from intrusive health inspectors and other officials likely to stop by during the day. Sure enough, he found Stephen in one of the holding cells, with no more than a single guard. This was going to be easier then Michael thought.
The guard was reading a book, when Michael began to silently approach. Michael was tremendously light on his feet for his size, and the guard hadn't noticed him until Michael was right on top of him. The guard barely had time to look up when Michael grabbed him by the neck and launched him into the power generator. The guard screamed as the electricity surged through him, and the panel box burst into flame, and then, just as quickly, went out. The room went black for a moment, then the hum of the back-up generator fired up. The emergency lights painted the room in a cool blue.
Michael reached down and grabbed the guard's master keys from his belt. With a single twist, Michael opened the lock to the cell, and stared at the boy cowering in naked fear in the corner. For a moment, Michael lost his breath, momentarily taken aback by the sight of the child. He had never seen the boy up close before, and was dumfounded.
Looking at Stephen was like looking back at himself, through time. The boy was his spitting image, as he had looked before he was scarred by the touch of the Evil. Michael froze with indecision for a moment, then slowly approached the boy.
Stephen's eyes widened with fear, and his breathing rose and fell in hard pants. He began to panic. Michael knelt down to face the boy; his white facemask barely inches from Stephen's face. Michael pressed a single finger to the lips of the mask, gesturing silence. He then held out his hand gently, and opened it. In his hand, he held Tommy's lucky rabbits' foot. Recognizing it, Stephen understood, and, a bit apprehensively, took Michael's hand. Michael lifted the boy up, and made his way back down the hallway.
The boy was tremendously light, and Michael suddenly thought of how easy it would be to crush the small child in his arms. He could picture its small bones crackling like twigs, as his massive arms mashed the small boy to jelly. For a moment, the killer instinct flushed through Michael's head, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
No.
It would not have him. He could feel the Evil's presence, trying to squeeze its way back in, and he pushed it away. As quickly as the sensation had overcome him, it was gone. Michael doubled his pace, and made his way with Stephen down to the front door.
Suddenly, a security guard came out of the washroom, and spotting them instantly, he drew his gun.
"Hold it! Just where in the hell do you think you're going with him? Put him down. Now!!"
Slowly and casually, Michael placed Stephen, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, onto the floor. The guard walked over to the boy, and bent down to retrieve him, taking his eyes momentarily off of Michael. It was his last mistake. Michael's hand fired out, and mashed the guard's head into the wall. It popped like a grapefruit, as puss, blood and brain-matter spurted from it, in heaves. Stephen screamed at the sight of the obscenity, and fainted, in shock.
As Michael reached the outside gate, Tommy and Kara burst out of the van to meet him and Tommy took the small boy from Michael's arms. Kara rushed after Tommy to the van, to tend over the child.
Once the boy was secure, Tommy tossed the explosives to Michael. Tommy climbed back into the van with Kara, to try and wake Stephen as Michael turned his attention to the explosives. Michael had almost secured them, when he heard a strangely familiar voice from behind him.
"Michael."
Michael thought his ears were playing tricks on him. He turned, and came face to face with a ghost.
Before him, stood his sister, Laurie Strode.
"When did you start playing with bombs?" She was smiling widely, but Michael could see the look of pure hate in her eyes. "I always figured you more for the hack and slash type."
Michael stood, dumfounded, as Laurie casually ambled up to him, her hands behind her back, with a slight dance to her stride.
"So…have you got a hug for your little sister?" She said, and laughed.
Michael blinked, still trying to comprehend whether or not his mind was playing tricks on him. Then the crowbar came slamming into his head, and he knew in a wave of pain that she was very real.
He reeled back, and when he turned back to face her, the crowbar came flying back into his face a second time. Then a third. A forth. He tried to get a bead on her, to grab the crowbar, but she was so incredibly fast.
He lunged at her, and she jumped back. She leaped with a spin in the air, and delivered a roundhouse kick straight into his forehead. Once again Michael staggered back, and Laurie spun the crowbar around like a baton, bringing the curved end's claws straight into the back of Michael's neck. The crowbar dug deep into Michael's neck, tearing deep into his flesh.
Finally, Michael mused, through the pain. He grabbed the crowbar, and pushed her back, hard. Laurie fell back momentarily, but rebounded back on her feet with a flip-up, worthy of an Olympic gymnast. Her fist fired like missiles into his face, in a series of whiplash blurs.
Brackett found himself cracking a smile as he stared at the struggle through his telescopic lens. That crazy kid, he thought. She had insisted on facing him initially on her own, and at first Brackett had thought she had lost her mind…again. Now, however, he found himself mesmerized by the woman's sheer tenacity.
Go get him kid, he smiled to himself again. If only Annie could see you now.
Former Sheriff Lee Brackett, father of Annie Brackett, Michael's first victim from 1978 and Laurie's best friend, prepared the rifle and waited for his mark. Laurie was one tough little bitch, but she couldn't keep it up forever. Even though she didn't show it, he knew she was tiring. So he readied the rifles, and waited. His moment came shortly after.
Laurie's fist streaked out one final time, and Michael finally caught it. He gave it a small squeeze, bringing Laurie instantly to he knees.
"Brackett! NOW!"
Michael arched back at the sensation of several large tranquilizer darts stinging his back. His grip on Laurie faltered, and she snaked away, and reached for the crowbar again. She swung it up, and smashed it into his left knee. Michael's balance nearly gave, and he spun around in a drunk's stagger, when the overwhelming light of a van's high beams blinded him.
"This is for Annie, you son of a bitch!" Brackett gritted his teeth and floored the accelerator. The van smashed into Michael, and he rolled over the top of it. He came spiraling to the ground and impacted hard, with the sound of meat slamming against concrete echoing the streets.
Incredibly, Michael managed to stand, when the van came flying back in reverse. This sent him hurtling through the air, and this time he landed on his head. He did not get up again.
Like two professionals hog-tying a wild animal, Laurie and Lee quickly began to fasten a series of shackles, ropes and chains.
At the sound of the commotion, Tommy and Kara rushed to the back of the van and opened it. They swung the doors open just in time to see Laurie and Brackett fastening the last of the restraints and throw Michael into the back of their van.
Both Kara and Tommy's jaws dangled open, and they spun to meet each other's gaze, in mutual shock.
"Holy shit!" Tommy struggled to talk.
"My God! That's my cousin! That's Laurie!" Kara responded, completely overwhelmed with surprise.
"Laurie? But I thought she was dead!"
Before they had any more time to sort things out, the other van was speeding off. Hastily, Tommy and Kara jumped into their van and followed.
Michael lied in the darkness for what seemed like forever. When he awoke, he was dangling from a chain above a meat grinder.