Chapter Eight: Fight Or Flight

The Shape ripped the knife from the man's back letting him fall to the ground helplessly trying to crawl away. Pathetic.

The Shape lifted its cold gaze to the others. Kara was holding Max close, and aiming a handgun at It. Cynthia stuck close to the others, pistol ready to blow the figure's brains out.

The Shape tilted Its head in thought before It grabbed Tim again growing bored of the man's futile efforts to get to his family. There was incoherent yelling then dead silence as Tim's face was smashed into the nearest wall again and again with enough force to leave a bloody dent in the wall.

Michael dropped the body, cold gaze never leaving Cynthia. "Michael…" Kara took a shaky step forward toward the towering figure. Michael's eyes darted to Kara and a flash of rage flickered in his piercing blue eyes.

"M-mom…?" Cynthia held her brother close to her side, looking at her Mom as if she was crazy. Kara ignored her, tears flooding her eyes.

"Michael, you're mad at me, right? I don't blame you. You have every right to be mad, but not them. Max and Cynthia don't deserve this, okay? If you need to kill someone, take me. But let them go, please…" Michael titled his head, considering. For a moment, just one moment, something unusual flashed through his eyes. Michael didn't recognize it either. Perhaps it was remorse, no…sympathy? Whatever it was, stalled Michael long enough for Cynthia and Max to get upstairs. But the moment was over before Kara could join them.

Michael lunged at Kara. She tried firing the gun at him but missed horribly, her hands trembling with fear. Michael grabbed her by the neck and squeezed tightly. Kara dropped the gun and struggled to breathe, but Michael only squeezed harder. Kara's vision started going black as she slowly reached up to touch Michael's face, desperately trying to see him one last time before she died. Michael watched her in fascination, wondering what the strange feeling inside him was.

He squeezed harder until Kara passed out. He dropped her to the ground and moved toward the staircase.

The Shape silently scoped out the hallway before stopping at a bathroom, the door was locked. The Shape just patiently listened for movement. All that was heard was The Shape's heavy breathing, anticipating the moment It could strike.

The Shape waited patiently; it was a game of patience. The Shape knew that their prey was locked in the bathroom and couldn't go anywhere.

The Shape was willing to wait as long as necessary to strike when the moment was right. The Shape listened for any sound outside the door, waiting for the precise moment.

Leaning closer to the door, Michael heard Cynthia talking to a 911 operator on the phone.

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"911, what is your emergency?"

Cynthia steadied her breathing before replying. "I need police! There's a guy with a knife who's trying to kill us! I think his name is…Michael Myers. He killed my dad!"

"Okay, the police are on their way now. I need you to stay where you are if you're safe there. Don't hang up until the police arrive and you're safe, okay? Can you talk to me, tell me what's going on?"

"Okay," Cynthia replied nervously, "I'm in the bathroom of my house." She could hear Michael moving around outside, his footsteps echoing in the hall. "My name is Cynthia, and the man trying to break in is Michael Myers, a murderer who killed my father! He stabbed him with a knife!" Cynthia was breathing hard but tried to stay calm as she explained her situation.

"He's going to kill us!" Max was crying holding onto Cynthia like a lifeline.

The operator remained calm as she spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone. "That's not going to happen, okay? Police are less than a minute away. Just hang in there. You'll be alright."

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While Michael was listening in on the conversation from the other side of the door, he felt another strange feeling. Was he beginning to feel regret? No, that was ridiculous.

The Shape was in the zone, it was time to kill and It wouldn't stop until all of the prey had been killed. But as the operator spoke comforting and reassuring words to Cynthia and Max, Michael felt a twinge of sadness. Could this be his humanity returning? Or was it just guilt?

His thoughts were interrupted by the front door bursting open and two police officers entering.

"Haddonfield police department! Anyone in here show yourself now! We will shoot!"

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Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief at the sounds of the police officers. "They're here! Thank God…"

Max cried at the sound of a knock at the bathroom door. "Hello, police, anyone in there?"

Neither Cynthia nor Max moved, knowing that Michael was still out there somewhere. "No, don't open the door! He-he's still out there!"

The officer responded puzzledly. "The-there's no one out here…"

Cynthia knew better than that. "No, he's out there! He didn't leave!"

Cynthia and Max watched the officer's shadow outside glance around quickly before speaking again, more confidently. "I promise, no one's here. It's safe, Okay?"

Just then, another shadow appeared behind the officer a quiet crunch was heard, and blood began trickling down the door, the officer's body falling limply to the ground.

As soon as the officer hit the ground, Michael burst through the door like a bull through paper. As he pushed through the door, the kids could see what was in his hands: a bloody knife. Michael did not break his stride, and he was silent. The children looked on in horrified disbelief, trying desperately to make sense of what had happened. Michael quickly moved through the bathroom in a rage, looking for his next victim.

The room was silent for a moment before Max began to cry hysterically.

The two children stared up at the figure in utter terror as It raised the knife for the kill.

The Shape looked down at the terrified children, the knife raised high. They were frozen with fear, unable to move, and the Shape's hunger grew as It looked at them.

No matter the amount of fear these children faced, they would be helpless to do anything to stop It as It was too powerful and too fast.

But then, the boogeyman stopped as if It was being held back by an invisible force. Its knife shook as what was left of the little boy Michael fought desperately for control. To stop this. It felt as if something was holding It back; something deep down was urging It to stop and that was what shocked It the most. A small part of It was beginning to realize what was happening and It tried to fight it. The Shape's grip on the knife tightened, but the battle inside was fierce. The Shape's instincts were screaming at It to stop, while the other part was still intent on feeding that hunger inside.

It was an internal struggle which the Shape had never felt before.

What's happening? Just do it!-No! That's my sister, I don't want to kill her! Stop!-Shut up, shut up! Focus! Don't listen to him! Kill her! Cut her open!-No, I won't let you!-Do it! Do it!-No!-Do it! Do it, do it, do it, doitdoitdoitdoit!!!!!!-

BANG!

The Shape felt something hard hit It, a bullet. But it only startled It for a moment.

The Shape's blade sliced through the air and buried deep into the second police officer's eye. The second officer fell lifelessly to the ground, blood spurting from the wound. The Shape was ruthless, killing without remorse. But inside It felt that strange sense of remorse and guilt come over It. It tried to fight It, to deny the feelings, but something inside was growing stronger than it had ever been before. The Shape was losing itself...but to what?

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Loomis, Brackett, and Hawkins came to an abrupt stop in front of Cynthia's house. The door was wide open and looked like it had been kicked open.

"Help! Help me!" The three sprung out of the car toward the little boy who was rushing towards them in a panic. Brackett immediately proceeded into the house while Loomis and Hawkins guided the boy away.

Hawkins held the boy by his shoulders. "Hey, hey. It's alright! Okay? Hey, tell me what happened."

The kid caught his breath, eyes wide as saucers. "It was-t-the Boogyman! I-he killed my dad! He-he took my sister! They're gone! They're gone and I don't know where they are. Please, you've got to find her! He's gonna kill her. He-"

"Hey, hey! Calm down, calm down kid. It's okay, we'll find your sister, understand? We will find her, okay? I promise." The kid gave a little nod to that.

Hawkins motioned for Brackett. "Brackett, stay with him. We're going to find Michael and Cynthia. Call back up for us."

Loomis piped up. "Michael's going back home." With that Loomis and Hawkins sped off.

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Cynthia woke up in a different house. The Myers house, she realized. She rubbed the fog from her eyes and stumbled to her feet.

She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of The Shape looming in the doorway, just staring at her through that white mask and those deep blue eyes that seemed to see through your soul.

Cynthia stepped back as The Shape moved forward. It had something in Its hand. It wasn't a knife thought. It looked like a small piece of paper.

Cynthia was surprised as Michael knelt to level with her eyes and held out the piece of paper to her.

With shaky hands, she took the paper and examined it carefully. It was a picture. A picture of a little boy and a toddler girl. The girl was smiling as the older boy held her.

Cynthia's brain began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The boy was Michael. She could tell by his eyes. The girl had the same eyes, just a bit lighter and brighter than the boy's dark, deep blue eyes.

Something clicked in her brain as she realized who the girl was. It was her. It was her and Michael.

She managed to get out a little whisper. "But…how? I…I don't understand. I-you-That's you and me, isn't it?"

Cynthia swore she saw a flicker of comfort in The Shape's eyes as he nodded silently, pointing at the boy in the picture. "You-you're…my brother…?"

That was impossible. It had to be, right? But it wasn't. She was staring at it. That's why he'd looked at her like that when he first saw her.

That's why he seemed so familiar. It's what her parents were trying to tell her before. He was her brother. She was his sister. What the Fuck?

Cynthia's heart was rushing in her chest as she stared at the piece of paper. She couldn't believe it, but she knew it was true. The boy in the picture was Michael, and she was the little girl. It all made sense now.

Why did she feel such a strong connection to him, why she couldn't believe she had a brother. Because he was her brother! She was Michael's sister!

Cynthia looked up at the Shape again, and she finally understood.

She spoke softly, gently. "Michael…"

Michael moved toward her.

Cynthia saw that his breathing sped up as he came closer, and it made her feel a little sad. She knew that deep down he was suffering. He reached out to her.

"Michael!" The Shape's head snapped toward the sound as It immediately stood, whirling around to see Loomis pointing a gun at him.

The Shape titled Its head in response, staring daggers at Loomis. "The police are on their way here, Michael. Let the girl go. It's over."

The Shape huffed, You have no idea…

Without warning, Loomis fired one shot that hit Michael square in the chest. It was enough to knock him down for a bit, but not for long.

Loomis kept his gun trained on Michael as he nodded for Cynthia to get out of the house. "Go."

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Hearing the commotion, Laurie ran to the house just as Cynthia walked out. Laurie wrapped her friend in a warm embrace in relief that she hadn't lost both of her friends.

"Are you okay?" Cynthia nodded, not really even hearing the question as her focus was on the house and her brother's wellbeing.

Cynthia noticed someone else was missing. "…where's Corey?"

Laurie couldn't answer as the sound of a gunshot followed by glass shattering pierced through the air.

Everyone's attention turned to the figure falling out the window.

Michael's body hit the ground with a chilling cracking sound of his ribs breaking instantly and the base of his skull slamming into the grass.

Loomis came out of the house with his gun still ready to fire at Michael if necessary.

The part that was most striking about seeing Michael hit the ground wasn't the sound, it was what followed.

Nothing. There was no movement, no sound. It was eerily silent as Cynthia and Laurie moved toward the body.

As the two girls stared down at Michael and looked at him, they didn't see a monster. They saw a young man who was dying. It was almost sad in a way, even after everything that happened.

The silence was shattered by the sound of a quiet gasp as Michael's body went stiff as a board, his eyes narrowed as his body jolted upward and he stood again with an inhuman amount of strength.

One hand reached to grab the extra knife stashed in his pocket as the other wrapped around Laurie's neck, the knife coming up to her throat.