Barry's theory came from eavesdropping on Dr. Loomis's conversation.
And Jamie's dreams, along with her strange bloodline connection, only confirmed what he suspected.
More importantly, when Barry locked eyes with Michael, he clearly saw the burning desire hidden beneath that mask—
a pure, murderous intent directed at Jamie.
Michael wanted to kill her with his own hands.
Barry didn't know where that hatred came from, but he understood one thing—
a man with that kind of killing intent would stop at nothing to achieve his goal.
Now, there was only one question left:
When would he strike?
Barry scanned the area again and again, but there was still no sign of Michael.
Tonight, Michael's target was Jamie. The killings along the way were just him clearing obstacles.
Barry had blocked off the entrance to the bell tower to keep anyone from interfering—and then deliberately revealed his location.
That should've been enough. Michael would understand. He'd come.
---
Had he come?
Barry waited.
Down below, the crowd was already realizing the door was barricaded. They were trying to break it down.
Time was running out for Michael.
He'd gone through great lengths to avoid the bullets and chaos below, all for one chance—to kill Jamie alone.
If he hesitated any longer, that chance would slip away.
And then—he appeared.
No one knew when he'd gotten there.
He wasn't in the corridor below.
He was behind Barry.
A sharp knife flashed—stabbed straight through Barry's back—but only sliced through his suit, leaving a white mark on his skin.
In the next instant, both Barry and Jamie were grabbed by Michael and hurled off the top of the tower.
They plummeted through the air, struggling mid-fall, but Jamie's small body was no match for an adult's strength.
Barry couldn't separate from her—if he did, Jamie would end up splattered across the ground.
The crowd below screamed, helpless to stop what was coming.
BANG!
The two of them crashed hard into the concrete.
And yet, surprisingly, there was no blood, no broken limbs—just stillness.
Jamie, covered in the symbiote suit, and Michael, in his white mask, both lay motionless.
"Are they… dead?" someone in the crowd shouted.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The moment the question left their lips, Dr. Loomis emptied his magazine, firing several rounds into Michael's head.
Michael didn't move.
He looked dead.
"Jamie—NO!"
Rachel screamed as she ran forward, pulling the unconscious Jamie into her arms and tearing off her mask.
To her shock, Jamie's face was flushed, not pale. She could feel her breathing—her heartbeat.
She wasn't dead. She could still be saved.
Meanwhile, the police moved in to secure Michael's body—
But his eyelids twitched.
In a flash, his hand shot up, grabbing the nearest officer. With one swift motion, he pulled the man down and spun, knocking several cops to the ground.
"He's alive!"
Dr. Loomis instinctively went for his gun—but forgot he'd just emptied the clip.
Michael lunged forward, grabbed a pistol from the ground, and aimed straight at Jamie.
BANG!
The bullet whizzed through the air—
Clink!
—and fell harmlessly to the ground.
Michael's confident shot had missed.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
He fired again, emptying the gun in a frenzy, but Jamie dodged every shot, twisting her head and shoulders just enough to avoid each bullet—
as if she could see their paths before they were even fired.
"Uncle," Jamie said coldly, "I'm here to kill you."
Pushing Rachel aside, she leaped forward like a bullet.
WHAM!
Her flying kick landed squarely on Michael's chest, launching him into the outer wall of the bell tower. Bricks cracked, and his mask split open.
Before he could recover, Barry once again enveloped Jamie in the symbiote suit—and they attacked in unison.
A golden rope of energy coiled around Michael's neck. Jamie ran up the wall as easily as if it were flat ground.
Michael dangled, dragged upward violently. His torn mask shredded completely against the bricks.
The fight was already over.
In the moonlight, Barry's golden armor gleamed, bursting through the black Spider-Man-like symbiote.
At that moment, Jamie had become Golden Venom.
Her power, her speed, her resilience—she had surpassed what any human could be.
And this strength wasn't just deadly to evil—it was terrifying for anyone foolish enough to cross her.
Including the kids who once mocked her.
"Oh crap, Jamie's gone berserk! My school life is so over," whimpered the boy in the yellow mask, trembling.
"My eyes! I'm gonna get dusted alive!" cried the kid in the Power Ranger mask.
"Then my face is next!" stammered the girl who used to tease Jamie, touching her cheek nervously.
But Jamie didn't hear them.
She was watching from her own first-person view, fully immersed in the fight.
After tonight, she would be a legend—the talk of the school.
---
At the top of the tower, Barry ripped off Michael's mask.
To everyone's surprise, the face beneath wasn't some disfigured horror like Jason or Freddy.
It was… human. Even kind of handsome.
Of course, not Barry-level handsome.
"Any last words?"
Barry stepped back, detaching from Jamie. His scarecrow form returned as he pressed a hand against Michael's chest.
Michael said nothing. His wild eyes softened for the first time—filled with something rare: clarity.
He looked straight at Jamie.
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
It wasn't hatred. It was… sorrow. Guilt. Maybe even peace.
Barry sighed and, seeing no resistance, drove his hand straight through Michael's chest.
With a sharp pull, he tore out Michael's twisted soul, the air vibrating as energy surged.
Bit by bit, Barry absorbed it into himself.
Michael's body went limp. The unhealed wounds burst open, dark blood spurting from bullet holes. The life faded from his eyes.
Holding the shaken Jamie, Barry gently patted her back. "It's over now."
When her breathing steadied, he once again covered her with the symbiote suit.
Then, carrying Michael's corpse, he leapt from the tower.
Using web-like strands to slow their fall, they landed safely on the ground floor.
The crowd hadn't dispersed yet—
everyone was still waiting to see what had become of the monster.