The three figures standing ahead looked just like the pranksters from before.
They didn't move a muscle—just stared straight at them.
But that gaze… that unmistakable blood connection—Jamie could feel it in her bones. This time, she knew it wasn't a trick. It was him.
The moment Jamie said it, the three people stepping out of the car froze in shock.
"Jamie, what are you talking about?"
Her sister, Rachel, reached out to grab her, but Jamie sidestepped lightly.
"No. He's really here." Dr. Loomis had seen Michael too.
"Really? You said the same thing five minutes ago," the sheriff snapped, gripping his gun. He didn't want to make a fatal mistake and shoot an innocent local, so he decided to give one warning.
"Hey! Whoever the hell you are—pull another stunt like that and I swear, I'll blow your head off!"
His voice was rough with anger, and the sound of the gun cocking made it clear—he wasn't bluffing.
But the man in the white mask didn't flinch. He didn't speak. He didn't even move.
Anyone who could stare down a loaded gun without fear wasn't just some resident—they were a killer.
Dr. Loomis's voice hardened. "There's no point talking to something that isn't human."
He raised his revolver and fired six shots in rapid succession. Each bullet hit Michael square in the chest, bursting open six bloody holes.
Michael stumbled backward step by step, and when the last shot rang out, he crashed to the ground—falling into the shadows where the moonlight couldn't reach.
The doctor's decisiveness stunned everyone.
Who would've thought an old man could shoot with that kind of precision and cold resolve?
Smoke curled lazily from the gun barrel.
"Is he dead?" the sheriff muttered, half question, half hope.
Dr. Loomis didn't answer. He just shook his head.
"He won't die that easily. The best we can do is catch him while he's weak and keep him locked away forever."
"What? Six bullets and he's still not dead? That's impossible!"
The sheriff ran forward to check for himself—but what he saw made his blood run cold.
The body was gone.
Michael Myers had vanished.
"How the hell…? He was right here!"
There was no way someone could take six bullets, collapse in front of them all, and then just disappear.
"Was it an illusion? That can't be."
He picked up one of the brass shells from the ground, his worldview crumbling.
Dr. Loomis's face darkened too—but this wasn't his first time seeing the impossible. He stayed calm.
The wind howled through the night, and the sheriff felt a chill crawl up his back. What kind of thing were they really dealing with?
Then, unexpectedly, Jamie spoke up—her tone strange and distant, far beyond her years.
"You're all in the way. Someone's about to suffer… maybe they already are."
"Jamie, what are you talking about? Don't scare me like that," Rachel pleaded, trying to grab her again. But Jamie jumped aside.
"Smart people know when their home's about to be robbed. Dumb ones just sit there like dogs on a leash."
With that cryptic warning, Jamie flicked her wrist—and a sticky, web-like strand of straw shot up toward the roof. With a pull, she swung herself effortlessly into the air.
"Oh my God! Jamie, you—" Rachel gasped, speechless.
What was happening?
"I'm Venom! I'm Venom! I'm the strongest Venom ever! This suit is awesome! Hehehe!"
Under the moonlight, Jamie twirled and danced midair, her symbiote suit rippling like liquid shadow. With one last graceful swing, she vanished into the distance.
The three below just stood there, stunned—even Dr. Loomis, who'd seen nearly everything, couldn't find words.
Moments later, a distress signal crackled through the sheriff's radio. The group snapped back to reality and rushed to their car. Only then did they realize what Jamie's cryptic words had meant.
They could only hope… it wasn't too late.
---
Tonight was Halloween.
A night that should've been filled with laughter, costumes, and harmless mischief. Even if it ended in silence and hangovers, it should've started in joy.
But Michael Myers had returned, bringing only fear, death, and despair.
The holiday of play had turned into a day of mourning.
In defiance of the evil stalking their town, the residents took up their hunting rifles and joined the remaining officers. They were determined—this Halloween, the nightmare would end.
As midnight drew closer, the temperature dropped, and the wind bit harder.
Especially from up high, the chill wasn't just in the air—it was in the soul.
Perched atop the town's clock tower, wearing his Venom-like symbiote armor, Barry felt that chill deeply.
From that high vantage point, he could see everything—the buildings below, the people running through the streets, the chaos spreading through Haddonfield.
And beneath the noise and confusion, colder than any wind, was the scent of death.
Just ten minutes earlier, Barry had been driving the Jamie Mobile, trying to stop Michael's killing spree.
But every time he got close, Michael slipped away.
It wasn't that Barry wasn't strong enough—it was that Michael was deliberately avoiding him.
With uncanny stealth, the killer would vanish moments before Barry arrived—only for screams to erupt somewhere else.
After several chases, Barry realized it was useless to keep running after him. Better to wait.
Michael would come.
Because his goal… was Jamie.
So Barry had climbed to the top of the clock tower—to wait.
Dong… Dong… Dong…
The deep, resonant bells rang through the night.
That sound, that moonlit silhouette—it was a clear invitation. A challenge.
Michael would understand.
Down below, the gunfire had stopped. The screams had faded.
Searchlights and headlights began to turn toward the clock tower, converging on the sound.
The bell had drawn not only Michael—but the vengeful townsfolk as well.
"Jamie! Jamie!"
A familiar voice carried through the cold wind. On the ground below, a woman waved frantically. Barry recognized her—it was Jamie's sister, Rachel.
"Uncle Barry, my sister's here," Jamie said softly.
"I see her," Barry replied.
"Will she be okay? I'm worried."
"She'll be fine. There are plenty of people down there to protect her."
"My uncle… he's really coming, isn't he? This is an obvious trap."
"Yes," Barry said, eyes narrowing toward the darkness. "But even knowing that—it's a trap he can't resist."
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