A/N: Out of all the fanfics I've written, only two have gotten "trigger warnings" in the description. I don't usually like putting them in, because I think that the term is overused in this day and age. However, I feel that because of the subject matter in this one, it's more than warranted. The last time I placed in a warning was with Andy Barclay: Through the Years, because the events of 9/11 were heavily discussed, as well as the inclusion of the real life person Chris Kyle. This time... well, you'll see.
On to the story itself, the title will make sense at the end. And Allyson and Michael's complicated relationship is further explored.
Oh, I forgot to mention some good music to listen to while reading the last fic, so I'd suggest "Through the Woods", "The Shape Hunts Allyson", and "Karen's Flashbacks" from the Halloween OST, and then "You Can Run" by Adam Jones, and "House On a Hill" by the Pretty Reckless, in any order, or on a loop.
Anyway, sit back, and enjoy.
October 31st, 2019
Haddonfield
Allyson Nelson pressed the stock of the Winchester rifle against her shoulder, pulling the lever back and squeezing the trigger. A shot echoed throughout the woods behind Laurie Strode's fortified house, and she could just barely see a mannequin's head get torn to bits. She drew the lever back again, firing another round, and again, and again. Luckily, she had noise dampening ear plugs in, otherwise she would have gone deaf.
Eventually, she heard the faint click of the repeater, and set the rifle on the table, and picked up a revolver with a medium length barrel. From what Laurie had told her, this was the same gun Doctor Samuel Loomis had used to shoot Michael six times, back in 1978. Allyson lifted the revolver up, pressing one hand under the wooden stock to keep it stabilized, closed one eye shut, and fired all six rounds in quick succession. When all the ammo was spent, she set the firearm down, and took a short stock pump action shotgun from the table. It was the same shotgun Laurie had pointed in Michael's face, when he carried her home last Hallowen. Last Halloween…
Allyson groaned, remembering the events of that night. When her relationship with Cameron took a dive. When her friends were murdered. When she met him. The Boogeyman. The source of her nightmares as a child… and also her knight in shining armor.
When Michael Myers entered her life, he introduced himself by impaling her friend Oscar on the spikes of an iron fence. She had been terrified, and ran off screaming to the police, who were joined by Michael's psychiatrist, Doctor Sartain. The Doctor, Allyson, and Deputy Frank Hawkins piled into one of the squad cars and ran the Shape over, seemingly ending the night. However, with Michael, that wasn't the end. After all, Laurie told her that he was still living after Loomis shot him six times in '78. No, what terrified her even more, was the fact that Sartain took out a modified scalpel and murdered Hawkins in the middle of the street.
That's when everything fell into place. Doctor Sartain had orchestrated the bloody events of the past twenty four hours. The prison bus crashing during its prisoner transfer. Michael Myers being let loose on Haddonfield. Her friends being killed off, one by one…
But then, in a bizarre twist, Michael actually saved Allyson, by breaking them out of the squad car, killing Sartain, carrying her to Laurie's home-
Allyson lightly shook her head, remembering what really happened. No. Michael didn't kill Sartain. She did. Yes, the Shape stomped the doctor's head in, but before that, she remembered wrapping her hands around his throat. Allyson had squeezed all the life out of him, until his face turned purple from the lack of oxygen, and his heart ceased its beating.
Allyson looked down, noticing her hands were shaking as she held onto the shotgun. Suddenly, the weapon felt it was forty pounds heavier. Her hands still shaking, Allyson set the pump action back on the table, reflecting on why she was out here shooting in the first place. Like her grandmother, she was preparing herself for the horrors of the world. Unlike Laurie however, she wasn't training for when Michael Myers would return. She had nothing to fear from the Boogeyman, not after he carried her home and helped heal a stab wound. No, the horrors she prepared for were people that were much worse than Michael, as odd as that sounded. People who knew what good and evil was, but didn't care. People like Sartain.
"Allyson, are you alright?"
Allyson looked over her shoulder, seeing Laurie looking at her, concern written across her aged face.
"Sorry, grandma." Allyson weakly smiled. "I guess I'm still a bit tired."
"You can stop if you want." Laurie smiled, with a loving grandmother's smile plastered on her face. "Go back inside, get some rest."
"Thanks." Allyson grinned, closing the distance between them and wrapping the older woman in a hug. Laurie squeezed her granddaughter tightly.
"Do you think he'll come back?"
Laurie quickly pulled out of the hug, but still had her hands placed on Allyson's shoulders.
"What?"
"Michael. Do you think he'll come back?" Allyson repeated.
Laurie stared at her daughter, mortified. The way she said it… it was almost like she was hopeful.
"I don't know." Laurie murmured. It was technically the truth. She released her hold over her granddaughter, and watched her look out towards the woods.
"I hope he's alright."
Laurie flinched, as if she'd been punched.
"Allyson, he's a murderer who belongs locked up-"
"He saved me!" Allyson protested, turning back towards Strode with a pleading look in her eyes. "He brought me home to you, and Mom, and Dad."
"I know what he did." Laurie told her. "But he also murdered your friends that night."
Allyson sighed in defeat. She was right, after all. Michael Myers did kill Oscar, and Vicki, and Dave. Had they done questionable things? Absolutely. Did they deserve to die? Definitely not. And yet…
Allyson ran her hands through her hair. Her feelings for Michael were complicated. A part of her loved him, for rescuing her last year. Not love in the romantic or sexual way of course; he was older than even her grandmother. But she loved him almost like an older brother, as twisted as it was, especially considering he murdered his own sister in cold blood.
"I'm… I'm going to go inside." Allyson mumbled, and slowly walked back into the house. Laurie shot her granddaughter a sympathetic look, and turned back to cleaning her firearms.
Allyson entered the house and began walking up the staircase in the living, catching the eyes of her parents, Karen and Ray, who sat on the couch.
"Allyson, how was it out there?" Karen asked, smiling at her daughter.
"It was alright." Allyson replied absentmindedly.
"Are you hitting the bullseyes?" Ray asked, smiling.
"Dad, they're mannequins."
"Okay, so are you aiming for the heads?"
"Yeah."
Karen looked towards the back door, realizing Laurie wasn't there.
"Where's Mom?"
"She's still out there cleaning the guns."
"You're not helping her?" Ray asked, frowning.
"I'm sorry, I'm just tired." Allyson told them. "I need to rest."
"Just make sure you wake back up in time for school." Karen reminded her. Allyson tiredly nodded, and walked back up the stairs, opening the door to her bedroom with a creak.
After the events of last Halloween, Karen and Ray decided they would spend more time with Laurie at her house. They visited frequently, deciding to come this week especially because of it being so close to Halloween. In the process, two of the rooms had to be renovated, so they could be flipped into bedrooms. Allyson's room had the mannequins removed out of them, and in their place was a twin sized bed with blue sheets in a green blanket. To the left of the doorway was a closet for Allyson's clothes, and connected to the room was an outside balcony that overlooked her grandmother's shooting range. Right next to the bed was a bookcase made of a dark oak wood. The bookcase itself barely had anything there, aside from a few comic books.
Oh yes, Allyson still read comics. Or maybe she started reading them again. There was just something thrilling about reading stories about superheroes who would fight back against evil and save the day. They were like the modern tales of knights, fighting the dragons of legend. Allyson found herself staring at the bookcase, reading the titles of some of her favorite comics. Batman: The Killing Joke. The Punisher: The Slavers. Judge Dredd: Necropolis. Watchmen.
All these comics had one thing in common; the hero won, but at a hefty cost. Batman eventually stopped the Joker, but he had succeeded in paralyzing Barbara Gordon. The Punisher killed the vile scum running a human trafficking ring, but even he admitted that taking out just one outfit didn't do anything. Judge Dredd stopped the Dark Judges, but not before they killed sixty million citizens of Mega City One. And the Watchmen… they technically didn't even win. Ozymandias carried out his plan in "killing millions to save billions", resulting in Doctor Manhattan having no choice but vaporize Rorschach from revealing the truth.
The reason Allyson was staring at these comics was because she was feeling that she was in the same situation. Sure, Sartain was dead, and Michael had more or less saved her life last year, but at what cost? Her friends were dead. They were butchered, and she was still hoping for the well being of a monster; the Boogeyman of Haddonfield. She should hate him with every fiber of her being, wanting him to be dead, and yet…
Allyson shook her head. This wasn't a comic book, or a superhero film. Her grandmother was right, the world was dark and full of horrors. And yet here she was, still longing for one of its greatest horrors to return. What the Hell was wrong with her?
As she contemplated this, Allyson turned her head back towards the bed, and looked down at the space between the mattress and the floor. Carefully, she bent down, and reached into the dark space. When she withdrew her arm, she looked at the item she retrieved. Every detail, every feature, was soaked in, as Allyson stared intently.
The object she kept under the bed was a mask, with a pale white face and jet black hair. To almost anyone else, it would look like a bleached William Shatner mask, but Allyson knew better. This was the mask of Michael Myers. Or more accurately, his face. She remembered still having her fingers clutching it by the hair, after Michael had left Laurie's house through the back door. Even now, she could hear her grandmother's final words to him.
"I'm not sure if I can ever forgive you for what you've done. Maybe someday… but not today."
She made sure to hide the mask by putting it under her, almost sitting on it. No way would the police understand why she wanted to keep it. It was the same reason why she objected to seeing a psychiatrist. She didn't want someone poking around her head, discovering her deeper thoughts about Michael. Worst of all, Allyson didn't want anyone to know what really happened when Michael broke them out of the squad car that night.
Allyson hugged the mask close to her chest, and closed her eyes. Sometimes, when she would feel helpless, she would slip the mask over her head, and she'd feel empowered. She'd feel… safe. Other times, holding it close to her was all it took. There were many days that she'd ponder why Michael never came back for the mask though. Maybe he meant to leave it with her? Did he simply forget it on his way out?
Allyson opened her eyes, pulling her arms away from herself and looking back at Michael's face. She remembered finding Samuel Loomis' audio recordings in Laurie's house, of when he was Michael's psychiatrist when he was a boy. He had described Michael as having a pale, blank, expressionless face. And his eyes were the blackest eyes… the Devil's eyes. As she stared into the mask, his real face, she mused that this must have been what he was thinking of when he first broke into the Halloween store to steal the white latex, long ago. But then she wondered, if his face made of flesh was already plastered with no expression at all, then why did he need the mask at all? We all needed to take off the mask sometimes, she knew that. It was to remind us that we're people. Or perhaps…
The Shape is as much a mask as Michael Myers.
School was boring. It usually was for Allyson, especially after last year. She considered dropping out many times, but her parents, even her grandmother, insisted that she finish her school years and graduate. She was taken aback when Laurie actually agreed with them, because she's the one who said "Fuck college". Guess Allyson assumed she'd have the same outlook on high school.
Many times, Allyson would find herself staring outside the classroom window. A part of her hoped she'd Michael standing in the distance. Maybe across the street, or maybe right up to the window, inches from her face. Unfortunately, everytime she stared out, there was no one there.
"Allyson Nelson!"
Allyson jolted, like she'd been slapped, and stared forward. All eyes were on her, including her teacher's, the one who called on her. He was a gray haired man of average height; not nearly as tall as Michael, but taller than herself, and wore a black suit with no tie. The man took off his horn rimmed glasses, and ran a hand through his balding head.
"I see you were daydreaming again."
"Sorry Mister Carpenter." Allyson apologized.
"Well, since you were paying such close attention, perhaps you can tell us who wrote the phrase 'We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin'." Mister Carpenter said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Allyson racked her brain, trying to remember where she'd heard that specific quote before. She knew it was somewhere, she read it shortly after last Halloween, and it struck a chord with her. It made her understand Michael Myers, the Shape, even more. But what was his name? Andrew? Andre…
"Andre Berthiaume." Allyson answered nervously. Carpenter sighed, and sat down at his desk.
"Very good, Miss Nelson." the teacher muttered, putting his glasses back on. "Perhaps you were paying more attention than I was led to believe."
Allyson half smiled, and turned back towards the window. Still, no one was standing across the street. Allyson sighed in disappointment, and turned back towards the teacher, making the decision to pay attention to the lesson for the rest of the day.
Eventually, the school day ended, and Allyson began walking home, hugging her school books close to her chest. The entire day was just one snoozefest after the other. Each time, she sat close to a window, looking outside to find… no one there. Everytime she looked out, she was waiting, hoping that the Shape would be there, only to be disappointed that he wasn't.
Even now, she didn't know why she was hoping Michael Myers would be there. She didn't love him, at the very least not romantically. She should hate him with the same level of intensity that her grandmother does… did. Now, she wasn't sure how Laurie Strode felt about Michael. Hell, she wasn't sure about anything right now.
"Hey, Allyson!"
Allyson stopped walking and looked over her shoulder, seeing her boyfriend, Cameron Elam, catching up to her. Well, ex-boyfriend, after she caught him kissing another girl at the Halloween dance last year, drinking, and then destroyed her phone by throwing it into a bowl of nacho cheese. Granted, he profusely apologized for his actions, and bought her a new phone by the week after, but the damage was done. Their relationship was over. Thankfully, Cameron respected that, and they continued as friends.
Cameron finally caught up to her, removing his dark blue hoodie to reveal his curly dark brown hair.
"Hey, how were classes for you?"
"They were okay." Allyson said dully, and began to walk again. "Just boring."
"Heh. Mine too." Cameron chuckled. "Listen, about last year…"
"You don't have to keep apologizing." Allyson murmured, still staring ahead. Cameron frowned. Ever since last Halloween, she seemed to be distant, more withdrawn. Of course, everyone knew her grandmother was Laurie Strode, the sole survivor of the first Halloween massacre forty one years ago, but Allyson was never like this until last year. Or maybe it was because she witnessed the Boogeyman's killing spree with her own eyes.
"I should have been there with you."
Allyson turned around, confused.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"I should have been walking you home, not Oscar." Cameron said ruefully. "Then maybe he'd still be alive…"
"Don't say that!" Allyson told him. "He would've killed you!"
"It should have been me then." Cameron said glumly. "Oscar didn't deserve that-"
"And you think you do?" Allyson asked harshly, tears threatening to pour out of her eyes. "You were both assholes that night, but neither of you deserve that!"
Cameron sighed, looking ahead of them.
"You're right. Sorry." Cameron said softly. "It's just… I miss him. Weirdness and all."
"I do too." Allyson whispered. It wasn't a lie. She truly did miss Oscar, even after he tried to hit on her, and tried to kiss her while drunk. So why, after all this, she was hoping to see Michael Myers again?
As Allyson wondered this, a black Honda Civic pulled up with black tinted windows pulled up, and out stepped a relatively short man wearing all black. He even wore a black ski mask and black gloves, but Allyson could see his eyes. They were a chocolate brown in color, and with them was a cold anger. Allyson backed up in fear. As opposed to Michael's black eyes, she truly felt she was in danger from this man.
"Get in the car." the man growled, pulling out a gun from the back of his pants and pointing it straight at Allyson's head.
"Hey, what the Hell are you-"
Cameron stepped in front of her, as though he was a shield, but was met with the butt end of the pistol crashing into his face. Elam went down like a stack of bricks, causing Allyson's eyes to widen in fear.
"Cameron!"
"I said get in the fucking car!" the kidnapper snarled, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Allyson's hair. "I won't hesitate to paint the sidewalk with your brains!"
Allyson gulped, and after trying to calm herself in the situation, she entered the passenger side of the vehicle.
"Good girl." the kidnapper grunted. He proceeded to pistol whip the girl in the face, rendering her unconscious. The man in black looked around, making sure no one was close enough to see what happened, before he got back into the car. His black gloved fingers turned the key in the ignition, making the engine roar to life, and the car took off, leaving Cameron bleeding and unconscious on the pavement.
McDowell
Ismael Cruz sighed heavily, taking his glasses off his weathered, bearded face and rubbing the bridge of his nose, before walking up the steps to his small townhouse. Despite being technically retired, today was a long day, and he still hadn't prepared for trick or treaters later that night, but for now, he just wanted to rest. Ismael opened the door to his home, not bothering to turn the lights on, and took off his green jacket. He paused for a moment, staring at the three inverted chevrons on the jacket's left shoulder. The only indication that he was once a Sergeant in the army.
Ismael smiled, and shook his head. That was a long time ago, before he even worked at Smith's Grove. Now he was retired from both the military, and from that wretched place. Cruz set his jacket on the coat rack by the door, and walked over to the kitchen. He raised his arm towards the fridge, but suddenly stopped, and instead grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey. Just as he was grabbing a small, yet wide glass, he had the sneaking suspicion of being watched.
"Hey Mikey." Ismael mumbled, turning around to see a dark figure standing a few feet away from him. "You don't have to hide. I know you're here."
The figure took a few steps forward, and rays of sunlight penetrated the dark kitchen, illuminating his face. Ismael took a deep, hard look at the man before him.
Michael had certainly gotten older, that was for sure. His hair, a once jet black, was now almost completely white, and was balding at the top and sides. He also sported a thin beard and mustache, something that was new since Ismael last saw him. Although, it had been at least ten years since his retirement from the sanitarium. But what caught Cruz's eye the most was that while he was wearing the navy blue mechanic suit like the news liked to show, he lacked the pale white mask with the black hair. Now, Ismael looked at his old "friend", seeing into his eyes. The Devil's eyes, as Doctor Loomis had called them.
Ismael closed his eyes and shook his head. No, that's not what they were. Not to him at least. Then again, he had started working at Smith's Grove a full ten years after Michael was locked up there in the first place. He just never could believe that a child could be described as pure evil. Not after what he'd seen…
Ismael opened his eyes again, and looked back at Michael. Even now, he remembered one of the first things he said to Michael, back when he first met him when he was only sixteen.
"Hey, Mikey, there's walls here sure, but you gotta think past those walls, and look beyond them."
"Are you here to kill me, Mikey?" Cruz asked. Maybe it was his age, or the fact he was ready to go in peace, but Ismael was surprisingly calm in his voice. Michael tilted his head to the side, but then slightly shook his head. A no. Ismael sighed again, and turned back to the bottle of Jack Daniels. He pulled the cork out with an audible pop, and poured some of the amber colored liquid into the glass.
"Do you drink?" Ismael asked, holding up the glass. He looked over to his hand, noticing it was shaking. Maybe it really was because of his old age. Michael said nothing, and simply stared. Ismael shrugged, and took a small sip from the glass, feeling the burning taste of his demons being chased away. Michael kept staring at him, but slowly followed, when Cruz entered his living room and sat in a brown cloth armchair.
"Wanna sit, Mikey?" Ismael asked, holding out a hand towards the dark green couch next to him, right in front of the television. Michael remained standing.
"Yeah…" Ismael sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You remember how I was good to you, Mikey?"
Michael made no motion, but Ismael could have sworn he saw Myers nod slightly.
"Sometimes, when I lie awake at night, I like to think…" Ismael sharply exhaled, stroking his white beard. "I like to think that me treating you like a human being is what ultimately saved my life."
Michael tilted his head in acknowledgement. They both remembered the night he broke out, in 1978. When Myers broke out, he also broke out some of the other patients, and killed some of the guards. But when he laid his eyes on Ismael, the janitor who would always talk to him and treat him like a person instead of a thing, he just… stopped. Cruz had looked upon him in terror, but Michael fled and ran outside, stealing the car that Loomis had driven in for his court date.
Michael broke out of his train of thought, when he heard Ismael speaking once more.
"Did I ever tell you why I decided to treat you like that, and not just another patient?" Ismael asked. Myers stayed there, rooted to the spot
"I guess I felt you were too old to understand it, but I never saw you as an adult until the night you… escaped…" Ismael cast his eyes downard, staring at the floor for a moment.
"It was during my first tour when I got drafted. The date was March 16th, 1968. Two months after the Tet Offensive." Ismael began, looking up at Michael. "Charlie and Bravo Companies, including me, were sent to a village called Son My in South Vietnam. Our objective was a search and destroy mission on the 48th battalion, which we thought were hiding out in the village. So, we pulled up there in choppers, trucks and everything, but we found they were just women, children, or village elders. Some were in their huts, or in the rice fields, but none of them armed.
"That didn't stop the other soldiers." Ismael continued. "I watched men I had fought with and slept in the barracks with, who I'd eaten chow with- men I would call brothers- open fire on unarmed civilians. Women holding their babies were shot at, or were raped, then murdered. Some were even gang raped. Children were rounded up and killed. Their huts were being burned down, and when the people living in them ran out, screaming in terror, they were instantly shot. I saw one elder get brutally beaten, before he was tossed down the village well. A grenade followed him soon after. And all I did… was just stand there."
Ismael paused, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He looked back at Michael, who still wore his blank expression. Or did it just look more grim?
"By the next day, hundreds of civilians had been killed, and possibly as many of the village women had been raped." Ismael told Michael. "The media came to call it the My Lai Massacre. Do you know how many people were in Charlie Company alone, Mikey?"
Again, Myers stood still.
"Well over one hundred." Cruz revealed. "And that was without Bravo. Out of everyone there, only twenty six soldiers were charged with murder. And from them, only one man was convicted: our Lieutenant."
Ismael placed a hand on his forehead, letting that information sink in.
"I'm not sure how I was never even accused of anything." Cruz murmured. "But I ended up taking two more tours until we were all pulled out in '73. Don't know why I re upped, honestly. When we arrived back home, there was no celebration on our return. Just shunning, shouting, and curses about what we did.
"I left the army as an E-5, Mikey. A Sergeant. But that didn't mean shit in the civilian world." Ismael grumbled, staring down at the floor. "Nothing I did in the military could translate to a civilian job. That, coupled with the fact that no one wanted to hire a 'good for nothing spic' kept me from getting a decent job. And then, I found out Smith's Grove was looking for a janitor."
Cruz looked back up at Michael, seeing past his mask. It almost looked like Myers was staring at him with pity.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is… I never believed what Doctor Loomis said about you being pure evil." Ismael admitted. "I've seen the evils that men can do, enough to fuel my sleepless nights until I die. But you're not one of them, Mikey."
Michael kept staring at the former janitor, his only friend within the walls of Smith's Grove.
"Why are you here though, Mikey?" Ismael curiously asked, as he reached for the tv remote. "If you're not here to kill me, then what?"
To be honest, that's what Michael was asking himself. He had thought about going back to Haddonfield, if anything to keep an eye on Laurie and her granddaughter, but a part of him blamed himself for what happened to Allyson last year. Maybe, if he had stayed on the transfer bus when it crashed, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. But then, he had made the decision to go back, to return home. All Sartain did was drive them towards Laurie's home. And yet, if he had just killed the doctor, and not let Allyson have her vengeance, perhaps she wouldn't have been stabbed. Either way, Michael decided he would leave her, and the Strode family, alone. It was better that way, after all.
Michael's head slowly turned to the right, as the television flickered on, and the room was illuminated by sky blue light. In the center of the screen were the words "Channel 78 News", followed by a blonde haired woman wearing a red pantsuit. The woman, being labelled as Danielle Curtis by a box under her name, looked down at a stack of papers in her hands, and cleared her throat.
"Reports coming in that a young woman in Haddonfield has been kidnapped." Curtis' voice reverberated throughout the living room. "According to a witness on the scene, Cameron Elam, the victim's name is Allyson Nelson."
Right next to Curtis, a school photo of Allyson materialized in front of the blue background. The girl looked exactly how Michael saw her last time; with brown hair, and wearing some kind of Halloween costume. Even though his face showed no expression, he felt a rage bubbling up inside him.
No… not her…
"Elam told the police the man was dressed in all black, including gloves and a ski mask, and he drove in a black car." Curtis continued. "The kidnapper reportedly knocked Elam out, then allegedly took Nelson hostage. The victim's family, including grandmother Laurie Strode, has since been unable to reach out for comment-"
Ismael shut off the tv, eyes widening as the two of them became shrouded in darkness once more. The only light was from the outside, and the sun was slowly setting. But he knew about Laurie Strode. He even met her a couple times. And if that girl, Allyson, was her grand daughter…
"Jesus Christo, Mikey." Ismael gasped, noticing Michael's hands balling up into fists. The only indication he was angry. That made Ismael pause. He was angry that the girl was kidnapped?
Before Ismael could contemplate what that meant, Michael turned on his heel, and began to walk towards the door.
"Mikey, wait!"
Michael stepped, and slowly turned back around. Ismael ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers fumbled for his car keys. When he finally found them, he quickly walked over to Myers, placing the keys in his outstretched hand.
"Here, take my truck." Ismael instructed, having an idea on what Michael was going to do. "You'll get there faster."
Michael stared at Ismael for a second, before grabbing his hand and shaking it, once. Then, as quick as it was done, Michael dropped his arm to the side, turned around, and walked out, pushing the door open and letting it slam shut.
Ismael sighed, taking off his glasses and running his hand through his hair for what felt like the tenth time that day. God, he hoped he was right about what Michael was going to do. If not, there would be a lot of bodies, and the blood would be on his hands...
Allyson woke up with a slight stinging to her face, and she looked around, finding she was in a darkened basement. Upon looking up, she noticed the only source of light was a single light bulb, swinging freely above her head. The walls around her appeared to be brick, with a rickety wooden staircase directly in front of her.
"You awake now?"
Allyson tried to look behind her, but quickly realized she was tied to a chair, with ropes wrapped around her chest. She tried lifting her legs, but found out all too soon her ankles were tied down too. It didn't matter anyway, as she heard footsteps behind her, and that same man in all black circled around her, until he was facing her front. He drew his hand back, and slapped her hard across the cheek.
Oh. That would explain the stinging feeling.
"Why are you doing this?" Allyson shouted. "Who are you?"
The man in black knelt down to her, and took off his ski mask, revealing a grizzled face. He appeared to be around the same age as her father, but with more gray hairs, and piercing brown eyes. Allyson involuntarily shuddered. Despite having shared a back seat of a squad car with Michael Myers, staring into his black eyes, this man scared her even more. But there was an odd familiarity to him…
"You knew my father." the man said grimly. The anger and hatred seemed to roll off of him. Before Allyson said anything else, the man reached into his pocket, pulling out an orange colored prescription bottle. After popping the cap, he poured out two pills, and put them in his mouth, swallowing them whole.
"Want some?" the man asked, holding out the bottle to her. "Helps calm my nerves."
Allyson glared at her kidnapper. He was toying with her, she knew that. And she wouldn't be baited.
"Do I look nervous to you?" Allyson spat, trying to sound brave, with her voice dripping with venom. The man shrugged, putting the bottle away, and simply stared at her.
"Who are you?" Allyson repeated, almost shouting.
"My name is Calvin Sartain."
Allyson's eyes widened. So that's why he looked familiar.
"You're that doctor's son?" Allyson gasped.
"Yes. And because of you, he's dead!" Calvin yelled.
"I- I didn't kill him!" Allyson stammered out. It was a lie, and she knew it. Unfortunately, so did her kidnapper.
"Bullshit!" Calvin roared, slapping her across the face again. "I saw the police report. They found your fingerprints all along his neck. You know what I think?"
Allyson didn't answer, and just stared up at her captor, with a look of pure hatred in her eyes.
"I think you choked the life out of him, and then you let Michael Myers stomp his head in." Calvin accused. "Am I right?"
When Allyson didn't answer, Sartain formed his hand into a fist and punched her across the jaw line. Allyson breathed heavily, and spat out a small amount of blood.
"He killed a police officer…" Allyson stammered out, staring at the man's shoes. "And he caused Michael to escape-"
"I don't care!" Calvin yelled, backhanding her again. "He was my father!"
Allyson lolled her head back towards Sartain, looking at him with a dark glare.
"He's going to kill you." she warned. Jesus, how messed up in the head was she to be wishing for Michael Myers to come save her again?
"Yeah, I'm sure." Calvin scoffed, punching her again. "But by the time he does, you'll be dead already."
Allyson's head rolled to the right, her hair hanging in front of her face. She waited for a few seconds, before jerking her head back, flinging her hair out of her face. She glared daggers at Sartain, and parted her bloodied lips in a smirk.
"What?" Calvin asked. "What's so funny?"
Allyson stayed silent, and only grinned wider. Sartain, growing impatient, grabbed her with his forefinger and thumb, gripping her cheeks, and forced her to look at him.
"WHAT'S SO GODDAMN FUNNY?"
Allyson spat out a mouthful of blood in Calvin's face, causing him to recoil in disgust.
"You hit like a bitch." Allyson sneered, and began giggling. She knew she should shut the Hell up. But God dammit, if she didn't die fighting…
Sartain growled in anger, and struck her in the center of her face, hearing a loud crack as her nose broke. Allyson's head bounced back, before hanging forward. Satisfied for the moment, Calvin walked back upstairs, believing he'd knocked her out. He was wrong.
Once her kidnapper had left, with a door slamming, Allyson lifted her head back up, looking around the room. The basement looked pretty generic, with brick walls covering every inch of the place, and concrete floor that her feet rested on. As she craned her neck to the right, Nelson noticed there was a table littered with household items, such as a hammer, screwdriver, some rope, pliers, and a drill. With a shiver, Allyson realized what Calvin was planning on doing with these tools.
God, she wished she had Michael's mask with her. The face of the Shape. At least then she wouldn't feel completely helpless-
Allyson stopped herself. She was the granddaughter of Laurie Strode. Whatsmore, she convinced Michael to help her escape Sartain, and then kill him.
But Michael's not here, a small voice echoed in her mind. And this isn't the back of a police vehicle.
Allyson growled low in defiance. She would not accept defeat. She would get out of this chair, and when she did, Calvin Sartain was dead-
Allyson stopped, reflecting on her darker thoughts. Why did she keep having this urge to kill? First the doctor, and now his son? Was she slowly going mad? Nelson shook her head, and looked around the room, trying to find a window to look out of. Unfortunately, there was only one, and it was already blocked off by black paper. Okay, so no way of knowing where she was. Allyson looked down at her pants, noticing a slight bulge in her left pocket. Her eyes widened, realizing that somehow, Calvin forgot to take away her phone, the idiot.
Allyson attempted to reach for her pants pocket, but her hand suddenly stopped. With a groan, she realized that her hands were also bound. Damn. Allyson began straining against the bonds, tugging and pulling. She felt the ties digging into her skin, and felt something warm and sticky begin to coat her wrists, but she ignored it, and kept trying to free her hands. At last, she felt one hand, her left, slip out, and she lifted it up to her face.
The moment Allyson saw her hand, she let out a small gasp. The rope had dug into her wrist all right, and now it appeared raw and red, and covered in blood. Allyson gritted her teeth, steeling herself, and reached into her pants, pulling out the phone, and turning it on. She had no idea how long she had until Sartain came back, but every second counted. With shaking hands, and ignoring the metallic taste and coppery smell of her own blood, Allyson flipped through her contacts, until she found who she was looking for.
Laurie Strode.
Allyson looked up towards the ceiling, expecting to hear footsteps. Curiously, there were none. Maybe Calvin had left for the moment. Without anymore hesitation, Allyson turned back to her phone's screen, and pressed "Call".
Karen Nelson paced around her mother's home, with Ray having his arms crossed.
"My God, how could we let this happen?" Karen cried out, with Ray doing his best to keep her calm.
"Karen, please." Ray begged, as Laurie walked down the stairs. "We need to remain strong for Allyson. It won't do us any good to panic-"
"Then what should we do?" Karen nearly shouted at her husband. "Our daughter is missing!"
"And it breaks my heart as much as it does yours." Ray countered, doing his best to remain calm. "But we have to remain calm right now."
"He's right Karen." Laurie told her daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We won't be able to help Allyson like this."
Karen wiped her eyes, and looked to her mother and husband.
"So what can we do?"
"Well, we can start with what that kid Cameron told the police." Ray started. "He said the guy that attacked them was wearing all black, and driving a black Honda with tinted windows."
"That's not much to go by." Karen sniffed.
"Unless…" Laurie stopped for a moment, as her eye caught movement on the monitors in the next room. She narrowed her eyes, seeing a pickup truck park right up to the gate she had installed, and a man stepped out. Her squinted eyes widened slightly, seeing the man had a thin white beard, with a balding head. And it seemed like he was staring directly at the security cameras. Staring at her…
Laurie quickly pressed a button, and the gate slowly opened. Once it stopped, the man walked forward, almost mechanically, until he was out of view of the cameras. Strode quickly walked back to the front door, seeing the man approaching, his stride unrelenting. Laurie unlocked the door, and the man walked in, taking in the scene around him.
The home had barely changed. The couch was still there, but not with blood spilling all over it. There was a small stain on the floor, but that was to be expected. The closet was still flowing with old clothes, and even the lamps were still in place.
After a few minutes of stunned silence, Laurie was the first to speak.
"Michael?"
If Michael Myers had heard her, he made no indication. Instead, he turned towards the staircase, and began walking up.
"Michael, what are you doing?" Laurie asked, beginning to follow Myers upstairs. Karen and Ray looked at each other, before they too began walking up. Michael ignored the questions, and quietly opened the door to what he somehow knew was Allyson's room. He could feel it, almost sense where his mask was… his face.
Michael surveyed the room, seeing a small bed, with a bookcase right next to it. Opposite of the bedroom door was a glass door, leading to an outside balcony. Myers paid no attention to that portion of the room, and focused on the bed, where his face seemed to call out to him. He walked over to the bed, and gingerly reached down, sticking his hand in the dark space between the floor and the mattress. After sweeping his hand across the floor, his fingers brushed up against strands of hair. His hair.
Michael's fingers curled around the material and pulled back, revealing his hand wrapped around his face that was made of white latex. Though his expression remained blank, on the inside Michael's chest was filled with satisfaction. He had meant to leave it for the girl to keep, but now, he needed it back.
The entire time, Laurie, Karen, and Ray watched, as Michael pulled his mask out from under the bed. If not for the situation, one of them would have joked that the Boogeyman really was under their bed, had they even known his mask was there in the first place.
"She kept that thing?" Karen asked, mortified. Laurie nodded in shock, for once at a loss for words.
Michael slowly placed his face over himself, and inhaled deeply. As he exhaled, he felt something was… off. The inside of his face smelled different. Confusion dotted Michael's thoughts, as he realized that the girl must have put it on, many times after their first meeting, but why? What possessed her to continuously wear his face?
Michael shook off the concern for now. At least his face was back where it truly belonged. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield had returned.
The Shape turned back towards Laurie, Karen, and Ray, who stood there in stunned silence. When none of them made a move, Michael stepped forward, lightly shoving them to the side and walking downstairs. It was only after he reached the last step and walked into the kitchen, when Laurie followed after him.
"Michael, wait!" Strode called out. "What are you going to do?"
The Boogeyman ignored her, and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a large kitchen knife.
"Are you looking for Allyson?" Karen asked hopefully, having rushed down the stairs. Michael stared at both women with a blank expression, and began walking towards the door.
"Do you even know where she is?" Laurie blurted out. Michael turned back to her, and tilted his head slightly.
Do you?
Laurie gulped. She wasn't sure where she was going to go from there, and her mind began racing, trying to come up with a solution. Finally, like a bolt of lightning struck her, one idea came to the forefront.
"Her phone!"
Laurie walked back to the monitors, picking up her phone from the desk, and swiped through her list of apps. Within seconds, she activated the "Find My Phone" app, and searched for Allyson's location. She only prayed that the phone was still on her…
Michael stared over her shoulder, trying to figure out what she was doing. Laurie looked behind her, seeing the Shape inches from her face, and looked up at his eyes.
"I'm tracking her location through an app on my phone." Strode frantically explained. "It uses satellites to analyze street names and house addresses."
Michael had no idea what any of that meant, nor did he care. He had been locked away from the world for the combined length of fifty five years. All of this was new to him. But if it helped them find the girl, that was good enough for him.
The Shape stopped for a moment, and looked down. He had no idea why he was so protective of Allyson. He didn't love her, or at the very least, not romantically. True, he did help her escape the squad car, but that was because he still felt partially responsible for her being in that predicament in the first place.
Michael exhaled in uncertainty. Maybe Doctor Sartain was right. Maybe Allyson really did remind him of his sister Judith. Only difference was that Judith was a whore and a bitch to him as a child. Allyson was neither, at least from what he could tell about her.
"Got her location!" Laurie announced, snapping Michael out of his thoughts. "7818 Castle Avenue-"
The map of Haddonfield's streets was suddenly replaced by a black screen, with the words Caller ID: Allyson Nelson. Laurie quickly pressed the answer button and set the phone to speaker mode, where her granddaughter's voice filled the room.
"Grandma?" Allyson's voice choked out.
"Oh my baby, are you okay?" Karen asked, with her and Ray standing right next to Laurie.
"No." Allyson told them. They could all hear the pain and raspiness in her voice, as if she had been crying.
"Ally, where are you?" Ray asked.
"I-I don't know." Allyson confessed. "He tied me to a chair, in a basement. The only window is already blocked. I was only lucky enough to get one hand free and reach my phone."
Michael felt his blood boiling, and he began breathing heavily. He wasn't quite sure, but he felt his mask of flesh and bone begin to crack, and slightly contort in rage. Not that the others would know. All they'd be able to hear was his breathing, but only see his blank, expressionless face.
"Michael?" Allyson asked through the phone, apparently having heard his breathing. Laurie was taken back, for it almost sounded like her granddaughter was… happy? Hopeful? "Are you there?"
Laurie, still shocked at her tone, before she finally spoke.
"Yes." Strode answered. "Michael is here."
The Shape calmed down slightly, hearing the almost cheery tone of Allyson's voice.
"Please. Find me. Save me." Allyson whispered as a request.
"Honey, we are." Karen told her daughter. "Mom found your phone's location and-"
They all went silent, as the sound of a door slamming came through from the other end of the call.
"Listen. The one who kidnapped me is Calvin Sartain!" Allyson spoke quickly, as they began to hear heavy footsteps. "He's Doctor Sartain's son!"
The phone call abruptly ended, leaving everyone standing there in shock. Everyone except the Shape. It all made sense now, why Allyson was kidnapped. After she killed the doctor last year, his son came back for revenge. Michael looked towards the family, wondering, Do they know? As in, do they know that it was actually her who strangled Sartain to death, right before Michael viciously stomped on his head?
Michael slowly exhaled. It didn't matter. What mattered was to save the girl from confinement… again. The Boogeyman turned around, heading towards the front door.
"Michael, wait!" Laurie called out again, walking towards him. The Shape didn't listen, and nonchalantly flung open the door. As the wood banged into a wall, Laurie darted out of the house, walking up to Michael and standing in front of him.
"I'm going with you."
Michael ignored her, and shoved her to the side. The push wasn't nearly as rough as he would usually do it, but Laurie still stumbled a bit. The Shape proceeded to climb into the red pickup he borrowed from Ismael, with the keys still in the ignition, and backed out from the Strode home. When he was a considerable distance away, he turned the car around, and began driving forward, having memorized the address. He only hoped he wasn't too late.
Back at the house, Laurie grit her teeth in annoyance, and began walking towards her, a cream colored Mitsubishi. Just as she opened the driver's side, Karen and Ray ran out.
"Mom, what happened?"
"Michael left." Laurie muttered, then pointed at the car. "Get in. We're going to find Allyson."
Karen and Ray wordlessly nodded, and the two filed into the passenger and back seats of the vehicle. Laurie slammed her door shut, and the car tore away from the house, picking up speed in the hopes of reaching her granddaughter in time.
Allyson heard the footsteps coming down the stairs, and she tried frantically hiding her phone. Just as she saw Calvin's shoes poking out from the staircase, she opted to shove it back into her pants pocket and return her arm behind her back, right when Sartain descended the last step.
"Oh good, you're awake." Calvin said sarcastically, walking up to the kidnapped girl and slapping her across the face. "Now who were you talking to?"
"I… don't know what you're talking about…" Allyson lied, but was struck again.
"You're lying!" Calvin yelled, cupping his hand under her chin in a rough grasp. "I heard you talking to someone! How did you-"
Calvin stopped, looking down at the bulge in her pants. Why didn't he bother before?
Sartain lunged, his hand slipping through the pocket in Allyson's pants and pulled out her phone.
"Who'd you call, huh?" Calvin asked, inching closer to her face. "WHO DID YOU CALL?!"
Allyson simply smirked, causing her kidnapper to push her head to the side.
"Ah, what does it matter." Calvin sneered, dropping the phone to the floor and crushing it under his foot. Allyson groaned; that's the second phone in a year that broke. And unfortunately, she doubted that Cameron would be the one giving her a new one this time. Again, he pressed his face close to hers, where they were just inches apart.
"How the Hell did you get to it-"
Sartain felt Allyson place her hands on each of his temples, and smashed her forehead into his nose.
"You bitch!" Calvin reared back, placing a hand up to his face. When he pulled back, there was a sticky, crimson fluid on his fingers. Blood. His own this time, too.
"Don't like that, huh?" Allyson taunted, feeling braver than earlier. Maybe she was sealing her fate, but she didn't care. Hopefully, Michael would be here soon, and if she was dead by then, surely he would avenge her.
God almighty, what was wrong with her, to rely on the Boogeyman to come to her rescue?
Calvin narrowed his eyes, and walked behind Allyson, seeing her hands were freed from their bondage. Sartain rolled his eyes, and grabbed the rope from the table next to him. The kidnapper then tied her wrists into another knot, this one being more secure, and he made sure the rope would dig further into her already bleeding wrists.
"Still got some fight left in you, eh? Good." Calvin sneered sadistically, as he went to the table and picked up the drill. He walked back to the front, pressing the trigger of the drill and hearing the whirring sound echo throughout the basement.
"Let's try to take it out."
Allyson grimaced, and despite her current situation, she forced a smile. If nothing else, she was trying to pretend that she was in control.
"What are you waiting for?" Allyson muttered. Sartain grinned sadistically, and plunged the drill into her left shoulder. Nelson screamed loudly, as the drill dug itself through her flesh, spraying blood everywhere, and she blurted out the one name of who she thought could help her in that moment.
"MICHAEL!"
Michael sped through Haddonfield, ignoring stop signs and traffic lights along the way. There were few instances where he nearly got into crashes, but the Shape paid no attention. He didn't care back in '78, why should he care now?
Myers looked through the windshield, seeing he was coming up on Castle Avenue, and sharply turned right, eventually finding the address Laurie mentioned. 7818 Castle. The Shape parked the truck in the middle of the road and walked as quickly as he could, towards what looked like a generic white colored house, with some of the paint chipping off. As he climbed the steps, he could've sworn he heard screaming coming from, presumably, the basement.
Allyson continued screaming, even when Sartain ripped the drill out of her shoulder.
"Not so tough now, hm?" Calvin sneered. Allyson chuckled, despite crying from the pain, and looked up at her captor with nothing but hate.
"Fuck you."
Sartain recoiled in horror, staring into her eyes. Perhaps it was because of the dimly lit room, but it appeared she had black eyes. Devil eyes, that saw right into his soul.
Just then, the sound of glass shattering was heard, followed by wood splintering. Calvin widened his eyes in fear, while Allyson grinned, her teeth and lips stained with her blood. They both knew who was coming.
"Michael." Nelson murmured happily. Calvin growled, replacing his fear with anger, and kicked her in square in the chest. The force of the blow was enough to send her, and the chair, flying backwards, where she hit her head on the concrete. Allyson's vision was beginning to get blurry, as Sartain straddled her body and wrapped his hands around her throat.
"Is this how it felt?" Calvin sneered, beginning to squeeze all the oxygen out of her. "Is this how my father felt, right before you killed him?!"
"I'm- I'm sorry-" Allyson choked out, despite barely being able to breathe. Barely able to see, for that matter. Calvin didn't let up; in fact, he squeezed even harder.
"Oh no, bitch. You don't get to say sorry." Sartain snarled, digging his fingers into her neck and ignoring the approaching footsteps that descended the stairs. "You are way, way too late for an apology-"
Calvin suddenly felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder, and was flung back. His head crashed into the wall, opposite of the table with the torture tools. Sartain lazily looked up, seeing a man in a dark blue mechanic jumpsuit standing over his kidnapped victim. He didn't need to look up to see the white mask over his head. He knew who was there.
"No, no!" Calvin growled in desperation, finding the blow to the head made it hard to move, and even see straight. His hands fumbled around, shaking, and he began to reach towards the back of his pants.
Michael Myers reached down, grabbing Allyson by the shoulder and pulling her back upright. When she cried out in pain, the Shape quickly let go, and looked her over. To see that the girl looked like Hell was the understatement of the year. Her face was covered in blood and slap marks, her neck sporting dark purple bruises, and her nose looked horribly crooked. Michael reached out, gently grabbing her nose, and looked her in the eye.
"Do it." Allyson slightly nodded. Michael felt a stab of pity stab his heart, and jerked his hand to the right, effectively setting her nose back with an audible crack! Allyson cried out, as blood shot out both nostrils, covering her face, the Boogeyman's hand, and his face. What was once a pale blankless face was now dotted with spurts of red.
"Sorry." Allyson mumbled. Michael stared at her, wondering why she was apologizing, and pulled out his knife. With a single, controlled stab downwards, he cut through the ropes holding her to the chair with ease, just barely noticing an odd hole in her shoulder that was still leaking blood. He didn't look at her, as he cut through the bonds around her feet, then leaned over the back of the chair, sawing through the ropes that were painfully around her wrists.
The moment her bonds snapped off, Allyson wrapped Michael into a hug, and began sobbing into his shoulder.
"Thank you." she mumbled through his boiler suit. "This is all my fault."
Michael rested a hand on the back of her head, like he was consoling a child. Through sobs, Allyson looked up, just in time to see Calvin leaning against the left wall, raising his gun towards them. Allyson's eyes widened. No, not at them. At Michael-
Bang.
A bullet tore through the Shape's shoulder, splattering blood along the floor.
"Michael!"
The Boogeyman roughly shoved Allyson out of the way and to the right, where she hit her head against the floor. Michael hadn't meant to push that hard, and knock over the chair in the process but it was spur of the moment, or she could have been caught in the crossfire.
Michael slowly turned around, as Sartain fired another bullet into his side, and two more into his chest. The Shape stumbled back a bit, and four more bullets crashed into him. A ninth shot pierced his left shoulder, and the tenth lodged itself in his right, making him drop the knife. Two final bullets tore through his body, and Michael stumbled back further, tripping over the turned chair, and landed flat on his back.
Allyson rolled her head to her right, seeing Michael laying there, and full of bullet holes. She flipped herself onto her stomach, groaning through the pain, and crawled over to her savior, her supposed knight.
"Michael… no…" Allyson whispered, hearing the Shape's heavy, labored breathing. She turned back towards Calvin Sartain, whose arm was still shaking from holding up the gun, and her rage flared up to an unspeakable intensity. Suddenly, her vision became clearer than ever, and she stared at her kidnapper and would be murderer with nothing but cold fury. She leaned forward, picking up the knife Michael had dropped with her right hand, and slowly stood up. Nelson ignored the pain, and stalked towards Sartain, in a way that almost mimicked the Boogeyman.
Calvin looked up towards the figure approaching him, his eyes widening as he saw it was Allyson, with a murderous look in her eyes. He raised his arm upward, as the girl repositioned the knife in her hand to be pointing down. His entire arm shook, making it hard to aim, and fired off three shots. The noise deafened Allyson's ears, and she felt two bullets slam into her body, making her stagger back slightly. One of the devastating rounds crashed into her right shoulder, and the other pierced her chest, just below her ribs. The final bullet must have hit the wall behind her, because she certainly didn't feel it.
Sartain attempted to shoot again, but he heard a faint click and looked down, seeing the slide was locked to the back. His eyes widened, and he looked back up, just in time to see Allyson standing over him. He raised his arm again, seeming to forget he was out of ammo, and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Allyson tilted her head to the side, similar to how Michael did, and the sound of the bones in her neck cracking could be heard throughout the basement. She stared down at her kidnapper, taking in his terrified expression.
"Wait… wait…" Calvin pleaded, holding his hand up. Allyson didn't listen, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, before bringing her arm down and plunging the Shape's knife into his chest. Sartain yelled in pain, when she violently ripped the knife out, and stabbed him again. Calvin's form slumped to the floor, but Allyson didn't let up, continuously yanking the knife out and sinking it into his soft flesh, over and over again. Blood pooled around his body, onto the floor, and splashed on the young woman's face, but she didn't stop.
While Allyson ripped into Sartain, Laurie, Karen, and Ray hurried down the basement stairs, where they stared in horror at the sight. Karen and Ray covered their mouths in shock, watching their daughter brutally murder the man who kidnapped her. Laurie's eyes tore themselves away from her granddaughter, and looked towards Michael, who was covered in blood. His own blood, this time.
After what seemed like an eternity, the three adults found their voices, but not the will to move.
"Allyson! Baby, stop!" Karen yelled, as tears streamed down her face, watching her child brutalize another human being.
"Ally, you need to stop! Look at him!" Ray said desperately, his eyes flicking between his daughter and the Shape laying on the floor.
"Allyson, look at him!" Laurie shouted, trying to reason with her granddaughter. "He's already dead!"
No matter what her family said, Allyson kept stabbing and stabbing, making animalistic growls with each thrust. She was seeing everything in a red tint, and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. It reached a crescendo to the point where she couldn't even hear her family pleading with her stop, even after Sartain had died several minutes ago. Until…
"Allyson."
The girl had her knife arm raised high above her head, poised to jab the blade into Sartain's jugular, when she suddenly stopped, hearing the deep voice. Allyson abruptly dropped the knife, hearing the metal clatter against the concrete floor, and slowly turned around, seeing the Boogeyman feebly reach out towards her. She fell to her knees, finally feeling the pain from her multiple injuries, and painfully crawled towards Myers. Her entire body ached, and the bullet wounds, and the hole in her shoulder hurt like Hell, but she pushed on, until she reached Michael's side. The Shape stared up at her, with his black eyes, and she took off his face with shaking hands. He let her, knowing that she needed to see Michael Myers right now, and not the Boogeyman of Haddonfield.
"It's over…" Michael murmured out, his eyes going hazy.
"My God, Michael." Allyson whimpered, holding his head and seeing his black eyes staring blankly at her. Nelson saw through his mask; able to push past his blank expression and see sadness in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry." Allyson whispered, kneeling in front of Myers' bloodied form. "You killed my friends, yet you saved me… twice now. Despite everything, I'm grateful."
Michael coughed up blood, and turned his eyes to the ceiling.
"You're not just a mask, Michael. You're a man." Allyson continued, ignoring the soft footsteps approaching her. She wasn't sure if the statement meant anything to Myers, but she needed to tell him. She needed to tell herself she was wrong. "God dammit, you're one of the best men I've ever known."
The footsteps stop, and in Allyson's peripheral vision, she saw her grandmother kneel to her level and look at Michael.
"Thank you, Michael, for saving my granddaughter again." Laurie told the man who had haunted her for the last forty years. "Michael, I… I forgive you."
Michael held out his other hand, and Laurie grasped it, squeezing it tightly. They could both feel Myers' pulse, but it was beginning to fade. Karen and Ray stood there the whole time, still stunned by both Laurie and Allyson almost comforting Michael Myers, of all people.
That's how the police found them when they eventually arrived. Someone must have noticed the door broken down, and two officers showed up, going down the stairs to find the most shocking sight. Karen and Ray Nelson at the bottom of the stairs, wide eyed from shock, a body that no longer looked human in the corner, and Laurie Strode and her grand daughter cradling the Boogeyman, laying in his own blood.
Thirty-seven stitches.
That's how many Allyson had by the time her surgery was over. Six for each bullet hole, another eight for where her shoulder was torn into by the drill, in addition to extensive surgery, and the rest for the minor cuts she suffered during Sartain's torture. When it was all over, she laid in the hospital bed at Haddonfield Memorial, with Laurie, Karen, and Ray sitting in chairs provided by the staff in her room.
It had been two days since Allyson was abducted, then subsequently rescued. Her memory was still fuzzy, but she remembered Sartain torturing her… Michael coming in to save her… and viciously murdering her captor in cold blood.
Allyson held a hand to her head, suddenly remembering what happened to Michael. Oh God…
"Are you okay?"
Allyson looked over to her parents and grandmother, a worried expression plastered on all their faces.
"I'm fine." Allyson weakly smiled, as she picked up a small mirror that was placed on her bed. Her mouth formed a tight line, grimly taking in the fact there were stitches all along her face.
"Too bad Halloween is over, I could've gone as Billy Russo." Nelson joked dryly.
"Not funny." Laurie snapped, but her gaze softened. Allyson was about to retort, when a man of African American descent walked in, wearing a black suit with an orange tie, and a black cowboy hat.
"Allyson Nelson?" the man asked, looking at the girl in the bed. Allyson slowly gulped, and nodded.
"I'm Sheriff Barker. I used to work with Deputy Hawkins. May I ask you a few questions?"
Allyson looked down at the bed, her brows knitting together, before she looked back up and nodded.
"Thank you." Barker smiled, taking a chair and sitting down. "First off, I'm glad you're recovering."
"Thank you." Allyson smiled warmly.
"But I do need your account of what happened." Barker said matter of factly. Allyson sharply exhaled, looking at her family. She could always lie, just like they did last year when she killed the doctor, but she didn't know if Laurie and her parents would corroborate her story.
No. Allyson decided. No more hiding from the truth.
Allyson looked back at the sheriff, and told him her entire side of the story. How Calvin Sartain had kidnapped her. How Michael Myers was the first to come to her rescue, and freed her. How she brutally murdered Sartain, using Michael's own knife. And finally, when she held onto Michael's hand in his final moments.
When Allyson finished her story, she looked back at Barker with a mixture of sadness and anticipation, wondering what his reaction would be. The seconds went by, with only the sound of the clock ticking echoing throughout the room.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Eventually, after minutes of staring at her, Barker opened his mouth.
"So basically, by your own admission, Michael Myers is a hero."
Allyson let out a deflated sigh, and sadly shook her head. She didn't know what Michael was. A hero, no. Absolutely not. He wasn't some knight who swooped in and saved the damsel from the evil dragon. Not after what he did in 1978, or what he did last Halloween. Murdering her friends, her grandmother's friends… yet she couldn't bring himself to hate him. She just couldn't.
"Well, you got one thing in your story wrong." Barker grunted, causing Nelson to snap out of her train of thought.
"What do you mean?" the girl asked curiously.
"Those weren't Myers' final moments." Barker explained. "The ambulance carrying his body never made it to the hospital. A few hours later, a squad car found the vehicle, with the paramedics and driver in there."
"Were they alright?" Karen asked, concerned.
"They had received minor concussions." Barker shrugged, standing up. "Maybe he got soft."
Allyson nodded, trying to pull off the same blank expression Michael wore, but on the inside, she was strangely happy to hear that Michael survived. She looked back at her family, a small smile playing on her lips, before she turned back to the sheriff.
"Wait." she called out, just before Barker turned to leave. "I need to tell you something else… all of you."
"All of us?" Laurie asked. Allyson nodded.
"I… Michael didn't kill Doctor Sartain last year." Allyson revealed. "I did."
"Miss Nelson, I know we found your prints on the victim's neck, presumably in self defense, but we had already determined the cause of death was a blunt object crushing his head." Barker reminded her.
"Michael stomped on his head after I strangled him to death." Allyson shook her head. "I just… wanted, no, needed him to die, after everything he manipulated that night."
"Including Frank." Barker mused, piecing everything together. "But Michael's DNA was found on the weapon used to stab you-"
"He pulled it out after Sartain stabbed me with it." Allyson quickly said, before she could stop herself. "Then he helped patch me up."
"And that happened at Miss Strode's house." Barker said, remembering the report they all filed. Suddenly, everything started to make sense, and he turned towards Laurie. "You let him escape."
Laurie, looking tired as ever, glumly nodded.
"You know I should book you all for obstruction of justice, let alone aiding and abetting a criminal, a murderer." Barker sighed, taking off his cowboy hat and running a hand over his bald head. "The law is the law… but sometimes, it needs to be bent for the victims to get justice."
"What do you mean?" Karen asked. Barker sighed again, and sat down in the chair.
"I once heard a story about a serial killer named Frederick Krueger." Barker told everyone. "Real evil son of a bitch. Guy was a child murderer and, if you believed the rumors, a pedophile. He was Ted Bundy levels of sick.
"In the summer of 1968, Krueger was finally captured, and was going to get the death sentence. It wasn't explicitly said, but everyone knew it. On the day of his trial, however, his scumbug lawyer got him off on a technicality. Turns out the search warrant wasn't properly signed.
"When word spread that Krueger got off scot free, the parents who lived on his street were outraged. They formed a mob, and cornered him in the boiler room of the power plant he worked at, and burned the entire place down with him inside. And the cops… they turned a blind eye."
Allyson shuddered, thinking about this Frederick Krueger. This man killed children, and quite possibly molested them. Yet Michael Myers was the Devil?
With his piece said, Barker stood up, and quietly left the room, leaving Allyson and her family alone.
"Do you think he'll come back?"
Laurie blinked, realizing Allyson asked her the same question from two days ago.
"Michael?" she asked, wanting to be sure. Allyson nodded.
"I… I don't know." Laurie answered truthfully, staring out the window. Karen and Ray looked at each other, concerned for their daughter, while Allyson looked back towards the door. She closed her eyes, and whispered in a low voice,
"I hope he does."
One Year Later
Allyson stood with her mother and father, wearing all black and under the shelter of an umbrella, as they watched the coffin being lowered into the earth. Thunder boomed in the distance, with rain pouring everywhere, but Allyson barely paid attention to it. She wore a blank expression on her face, not unlike the Shape's, as the wooden box sank lower into the hole.
Her grandmother was dead. Laurie Strode, the woman who survived the Boogeyman's massacre in 1978, was gone. Her life snuffed out by a heart attack seemingly out of nowhere. Allyson squeezed her eyes shut, even though she knew she wouldn't cry. How could she cry, when her eyes had already been drained dry?
"Do not store your treasures on Earth, where moths eat them, and rust destroys them, and thieves break in and steal." the priest read from a Bible in one hand, with the other clutching a rosary. "Store your treasures in Heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy them, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasures are, there the desires of your heart will also be."
Allyson could barely hear the prayer, and she looked out across the cemetery, towards the trees. As she scoured the treeline, her eyes widened, just barely seeing a flicker of a blue boiler suit, hiding behind a tree in the rain.
"Your eye is like a lamp, it provides light for your body. When your eye is healthy, your whole body is filled with light."
Allyson took off running towards the trees, despite her mother's protests. She fought to see clearly in the rain, and pushed towards the tree she saw the flicker of blue. She had to know. She had to be sure it was him.
"But when your eye is unhealthy, your body is filled with darkness."
Allyson finally reached the tree, and circled around it, only to find no one there.
"No." Allyson whispered, feeling her heart break. He had to have been here. She could have sworn he was here. The girl hung her head, feeling water run down her cheeks. Whether they were fresh tears or simply the rain wasn't clear; it all mixed together.
"And if the light you think you have is actually darkness, how deep that darkness is."
Allyson sat at her usual desk in the back of the classroom, staring out the window and daydreaming. Each time she looked out, she'd hope for something, anything, to appear on the other side.
A lot had changed since her grandmother died. After constant begging from her parents, Allyson finally surrendered to seeing a therapist over the events of the last two years.
"Laurie would have wanted this." they both said. That's what finally broke her, and forced her to accept help.
Allyson had been seeing a psychiatrist named Barbara Collier for the past three months. They'd usually talk about how her day was going, or how she was feeling after her kidnapping, but she knew what the shrink really wanted to ask. She wanted to know if Allyson still had flashbacks of trauma. She wanted to know if Allyson was a danger, to herself or others. Whenever Barbara would get onto the subject of Michael Myers, or Laurie Strode for that matter, Allyson would completely shut down, wearing nothing but a blank expression of her face. At that point, Barbara would just assume that the mere mention of Michael's name made the girl freeze in fear, and prescribe her to take antipsychotics, but that wasn't the case at all.
The truth was, Allyson missed Michael Myers. Fuck it, she admitted, she missed the Boogeyman of Haddonfield. She knew she shouldn't, she should be wishing him dead and burning in Hell. But she didn't. Somehow, the Shape had wormed its way into her heart. It wasn't romantic of course, it never was, but she saw him as a type of over protective grandfather, similar to how Laurie was.
As for Michael Myers himself, Allyson finally understood him. He was no hero, like Batman or Superman. She likened him to be more akin to Rorschach, or even Billy Butcher. At least, that's how she initially thought of him. It wasn't until late August, when she was watching superhero movies and came across a film featuring Deathstroke, did it hit her like a freight train.
Michael Myers wasn't a knight, like she originally perceived. He never was. He was a dragon… but a dragon who fought other dragons. A dragon who would fight for man and maid. A dragon who-
Wait. Allyson squinted, just barely seeing a man in a blue boiler suit and white latex mask, just across the street. A smile crept across her face, and tears began brimming her eyes, realizing it was Michael. So he finally came back.
Allyson raised her hand, fingers outstretched, and waved slightly out the window. After a few seconds, the Shape did something that surprised her: he raised his own hand, with his fingers opened to show his palm. His hand stayed in its position for about a second, before he lowered it.
"Miss Nelson!"
Allyson jolted in her seat, like she had been tasered. She looked towards the front of the class, seeing her teacher, wearing a black suit, bald head, and thick glasses staring at her.
"Miss Nelson, you have been looking out that window for the past fifteen minutes." the older man chastised. "Tell me, what is out there that is more fascinating than this class?"
"N-nothing." Allyson stammered out. "Sorry, Mister Pleasance."
Her teacher sighed, and rubbed the top of his head.
"Well, why don't you tell us who wrote 'Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you'." Mister Pleasance instructed.
"Uh… Friedrich Nietzche?" Allyson guessed, having remembered reading about the philosopher. Pleasance sighed, and took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"That will do." he mumbled, and continued teaching.
Allyson exhaled a sigh of relief, and turned back to stare at the window. She was so close, so close, to getting in trouble. Luckily, her teacher had asked a question she already knew. When she turned back to the window, she was disappointed to see that the Shape was gone. That disappointment morphed into hope, however, when Allyson realized that no matter where she went, the Boogeyman would be watching over her.
Michael Myers stood at his sister's grave, feeling a mixture of emotions. He hadn't meant for Allyson to see him watching her, but she looked anyway. Nevertheless, he wouldn't leave Haddonfield. Not again.
He tried to stay away. He really did. Michael imagined that if he stayed away from Allyson and her family, they'd be safe, but he was wrong. The girl had gotten kidnapped, and Laurie died. Granted, her death was out of anyone's hands, but Allyson had still been abducted because of him. Oddly enough, it was for that reason on why he was staying in Haddonfield, to keep an eye on her. Whats more, Michael felt like he had another chance with Allyson. He already failed one sister back in 1963, but this time would be different. This time he wouldn't kill her. This time… he'd do better.
The Boogeyman knelt down on one knee, and removed his face made of white latex and black hair, revealing his mask of flesh and blood. He needed to say something, but it couldn't come from the Shape. It had to be Michael Myers who said this. Michael closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let the words roll out in a whisper.
"I'm sorry Judith."
The End
A/N: This went on even longer than I anticipated. I thought about breaking it up into multiple chapters, but then again, it probably flows better as a really long one shot.
This fic was supposed to more touch on how Michael Myers isn't a hero, but in a really dark grey area. That's why there were a lot of references to superhero comics, and the analogy of them being the modern tales of knights in shining armor.
As far as I'm concerned, there won't be a follow up to this one. Two installments was enough. I did hear about a war anthology called Foxhole being made, starring the actress who played Allyson, so I might make a Halloween AU once that comes out. Until then, stay safe out there.