Crystal Lake, New Jersey is a small town as Loomis discovers; inhabited mostly by people looking to live off the grid and away from the hustle of city life. Decaying store-fronts and ramshackle structures litter the community as nature gradually invades the bland, lifeless town in an attempt to recover what was lost to man. Wrinkled hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, Loomis observes this with a few glances, his mind centered on merely finding IT. As time soars on, he begins to notice a distinct change in the atmosphere; dark rolling clouds of ink-black smoke rises in the distance as the air grows steadily thicker.

"Crap, it appears that a forest fire has sprung up. We'll have to take a long way around." Jackson frowns, worry smothering his facial features.

Loomis grunts with frustration, before scoffing "This is no natural fire; if that were the case, we would have been notified quite a while ago. This one erupted abruptly, almost certainly fueled by an accelerant."

"You mean gasoline?"

Loomis shrugs, continuing to drive down the cracked pavement towards the inferno. "Possibly, that is the most common; however, I meant that someone or something may have intentionally created this blazing fire."

Doubtful, Jackson voices his reluctance "That's quite a leap of judgment doctor, there are plenty of other ways in which a fire can be ignited."

"Logic and science do not apply to Michael, he is a force beyond any set rule or principal if you don't acknowledge that, we have no hope of stopping it. However, since you're so doubtful, there should be some officials up ahead who can confirm or deny this theory."

Moments later, Loomis places a crowd of police vehicles and several fire-engines. The smoke is dense, but not yet lethal or suffocating as the car pulls alongside a cruiser. Immediately, a stern veteran of the force comes to address the two trespassers. "Men, we need you to evacuate the area. Although the fire is now controlled, the area is still dangerous to those within it."

Ignoring the warning, Loomis exits the car, slamming the door behind him. "This is urgent, I can assure you. Did there happen to be a wreck nearby? We're tracking the person who was driving a vehicle that was reported to have been crashed in the vicinity."

The older gentleman fixes Loomis with an iron glare before relinquishing, "Yes, in fact, it was a car wreck that ignited the flames behind us. There's not much left but twisted metal and charred ashes of branches, foliage, and whatever unlucky critters were living nearby when this thing went off."

Nodding thoughtfully, Loomis asks the revealing question, "Any human remains inside the wreckage?"

The officer shrugs, "Not as far as we can tell, like I told you, everything but the metal frame was incinerated."

"So it's possible the occupants escaped?"

"It's possible, but with the kind of crash it takes to cause leakage and fire, they're most likely wounded."

A deep frown burrows itself into Loomis's already aged skin, the worry and fear taking root in his dark thoughts. Grumbling behind the pair, Jackson interrupts the conversation, "The probability of Michael even being in New Jersey is low, to begin with, doctor, let alone even in this specific vehicle! We need physical proof of Myers location, not just a hunch."

Shocked by Jackson's sudden trepidation and anger, Loomis urges him back into the car. "We'll talk about this in private, but right now I need to get that so-called physical evidence so just give me a moment."

Straightening up, Loomis turns back to the officer who appears unruffled by the entire conversation going on before him. "Sorry sir, my partner and I have been on the road for a while now. If I may ask, is there any town near here?"

"If you're looking for a fugitive, and that person did escape the vehicle, then they're most likely headed towards Camp Crystal Lake as we speak. It closed down decades ago, but there are still quite a few cabins and structures left from when it was a summer camp; however, if I were you, I would never set foot on that cursed ground, let's just say it has a history of its own, a history that is still unfolding to this day."

Loomis shakes the man's hand firmly, "Thank you for your help sir, and for your warning."

Pulling away from the site, gravel and dust drift lazily in the air as the officer, and his men return their attention to fire-control. Their focus should have been placed elsewhere.

Lurking behind well-placed machinery, a pair of distant, icy eyes follows each and every movement, the cogs and wheels of his mechanical-like mind turning flawlessly in his mind as a plan to eradicate the humans in his path forms. Muscles primed for action, it steps forward stealthily, covering ground swiftly as it reaches for a ladder; pulling itself upwards with the grace of a feline, it is only a matter of unlocking the brake and putting the vehicle into neutral before chaos ensues down below.

Inching forward ever-so-slowly, nobody notices the spare firetruck moving until it is far too late. Rolling at a steady pace on the incline, the large wheels plow into two men helping hold the firehose; the sounds of bones cracking and muscles tearing can be heard by everybody in the vicinity as the unfortunate victims cries faintly died away. Organs and excessive amounts of blood now stain the spot where they stood. Still moving, the other eight men on the hose are able to dodge out of the way of the runaway vehicle as it hurtles into three parked trucks. Metal grinds and groans as two of the cars are crushed and ground into the pavement with an ear-piercing squeal, four more men trapped and buried by the glinting metal. Coming to a stop on top of the third truck, chaos ensues as workers attempt to save those injured by the devastating accident. Numerically, there are still far too many men here to kill by hand, it would be almost too easy for them to call the police force. The Shape has never been deterred by the odds, and it will not bow before these uniformed cowards now.

Slipping between vehicles with a grace much like that of a cat, he remains invisible to wandering eyes; gradually making his way towards a fallen power line still blazing with electricity. However, it would have been a miracle if nobody ran into Myers while he was enacting his plan; and unfortunately for two men, they had wandered into the path of evil incarnate.

The two workers were still filled with adrenaline as they struggled to contain the situation, and found themselves bumping into something rather substantial. Unjarred, Michael swings his knife at one of the tender and vulnerable throats before him; and as the man falls with heaving gasps, he wraps the other hand around the other's with cobra-like precision before the guy has a chance to sound an alarm. As his coworker lies choking upon his own blood, body spasming in one last dance of life, the man can only find himself lost within the depths of this creature's eyes. For one agonizing moment, his own twisted reflection is reflected back into his own soul; as a corrupt, damaged image of who he is and what he could be, as if it is calling out to him.

The call is interrupted by the sound of vertebrae snapping and crunching, blood spurting from the poor man's mouth as his head hangs at an awkward angle. The Shape gives the men little thought, dropping their now meaningless corpses to the cement as he quietly retrieves a pair of insulated electricians gloves from a compartment on the side of one of the engines. Another few feet and he is now in the range of the broken lines holding such immense power, it is now only a matter of the electricity meeting the water that soaks the ground upon which the men stand. Using the gloves he borrowed earlier, it is all too easy for him to toss the lines towards the unsuspecting men walking around like ants under the orders of a queen.

Immediately, the magic begins as the electricity arcs towards every living and non-living being in its radius and reach. Chatter turns to pain, then to complete and utter agony as they begin to fry from the inside out; mouths foam and screams become wails of despair as one by one, they fall. Their bodies spasm and twitch as the current flows through their now lifeless bodies, slowly turning their flesh to charred, thin sticks of nothingness, never again to hold their loved ones. For Michael, the silence is bliss; it is now time to find his mysterious attacker once again.