Gasps echoed all around as everyone instinctively backed away, forming a half-circle of empty space.
Thud!
Michael's body hit the ground with a heavy, lifeless sound. Jamie stood over him, her expression completely devoid of mercy.
Of course, no one could see it clearly through her costume—but those who knew her could tell. Something about her was… off. She didn't seem like herself anymore.
Even to the strangers watching, it was shocking. A normal little girl taking down Michael Myers—alone? That was beyond belief. There had to be something unnatural about that suit she was wearing.
It was absurd, yet somehow expected.
At that moment, every cop and townsfolk instinctively raised their weapons—aiming straight at Jamie, who was now wrapped in what looked like a golden "Venom" battle suit.
Sometimes people change slowly. Other times, it happens so fast, you don't even notice until it's too late.
Was Jamie becoming like Michael? Another cursed killer? Possessed by a demon, maybe?
No one knew. All they knew was that they had to protect themselves.
"Don't shoot! Please, don't shoot!" Rachel, her older sister, pushed her way in front of the crowd, cautiously stepping closer. "Jamie… are you okay?"
But soon, even Rachel couldn't help backing away. Her face went pale with fear.
Jamie's mask suddenly loosened and slid off on its own—revealing her face, calm and unconscious.
Then the suit began to writhe like boiling water, rippling as tiny strands of straw beneath it squirmed like living things.
The eerie sight made everyone stumble backward in panic.
No one dared pull the trigger first. Nobody wanted to provoke… whatever that was.
The horror in the air thickened.
Hands trembled, knuckles whitened around guns slick with sweat.
And then—
It came out.
The golden straw peeled off Jamie's body and began to grow—twisting, weaving, folding over itself—until it formed into a tall, faceless humanoid figure.
Over thirty feet tall, with elongated limbs and a gaunt torso, it wore a tattered straw cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. From its back sprouted countless long, thin tendrils that writhed like serpents.
When it fully materialized, the air itself seemed to freeze. The pressure of its presence made it hard for anyone to breathe.
What… is that?
The faceless head tilted toward the crowd. Its attention locked on one trembling gun.
And somehow—everyone could feel the words, echoing in their minds:
—I hate it when people point guns at my head.
The sense of danger skyrocketed.
"Oh no!" someone whispered. But it was too late.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
In a blur of motion, dozens of whip-like tendrils lashed out, striking the crowd.
In an instant, the guns vanished from their hands—snatched up by the creature's tendrils.
Before anyone could react, the tendrils tightened. The weapons crumpled into twisted scraps of metal and clattered uselessly to the ground.
If even their strongest weapons were nothing but toys to this thing—what hope did they have?
There was no answer.
Barry merely lowered his head slightly, and the suffocating aura that radiated from him was enough to make even the bravest men shake like frightened chicks.
The difference in power, in existence itself, was so vast it was terrifying.
At that point, fighting back wasn't even an option—just having the courage to run would've been remarkable.
Rustle… rustle… rustle…
The massive, slender figure turned and began walking toward the forest, each step covering several yards. The sound it made—like countless dry stalks of straw scraping together—filled the night.
No one dared to move. They could only watch as it faded into the trees and into the shadows.
Only when it was gone did the crushing pressure finally ease.
For a long time, no one spoke.
"Is it… gone?"
"Yeah… I think so."
"Will it come back?"
"I… don't know."
"God, that thing was terrifying. Compared to it, Michael was just a tantrum-throwing kid."
"Jamie! My Jamie!" Rachel cried out.
---
It was gone.
But that night—Halloween in Haddonfield—Barry's appearance left a mark deeper than even Michael Myers ever had.
His mysterious arrival, his monstrous form, and his overwhelming power would haunt the town's memory forever.
They would never forget this night.
First, there had been the town's shadow—Michael escaping the asylum and bringing death in his wake.
Then Jamie, donning the venomous battle suit, scaling walls, and killing her uncle without hesitation.
And finally, the towering scarecrow—revealing its true form, crushing guns with its bare tendrils, and vanishing into the night.
No one in Haddonfield would ever forget this Halloween.
In the end, someone still had to be blamed for all the deaths. And the obvious culprit was Michael Myers—his corpse was proof enough to close the case.
Even so, people couldn't forget how many times he'd stood back up before.
Jamie, once seen wearing that strange suit, also became a subject of curiosity. But when the scarecrow vanished, she returned to normal—just an ordinary girl again.
Over time, the excitement faded.
Still, one detail stuck with people—the suit.
The very next morning, the store that had sold those Halloween costumes was swarmed. Every "battle suit" was snatched off the shelves within minutes.
People hoped they could gain power too, become the next local hero.
Unfortunately, every costume was a cheap knockoff—just regular fabric. Nothing special.
Disappointed but intrigued, the legend began to grow.
Before long, the whole event turned into a local urban myth known as "The Slender Straw Shadow."
They said:
On Halloween night, if a good and lucky child finds their destined battle suit,
and dares to wear it,
they'll gain unimaginable power—
becoming a hero who hunts the monsters of the dark.
But beware: if you fail to remove the suit before dawn,
it will consume you.
Body and soul alike will fall into endless darkness,
for the suit itself is a living thing—
a tall, twisted scarecrow.
Only those with unshakable will can resist being devoured.
---
Barry's Dream Realm
On a field of soft green grass, Barry sat cross-legged, absorbing Michael's corrupted soul.
There was no doubt—it was pitch-black and utterly evil.
To burn it away in an instant was the greatest mercy he could offer.