Chapter Text
Prologue
Ominous, but catchy music plays. In fact, it’s a theme song horror fans will easily recognize. Autumn leaves blow across the quiet streets of Haddonfield, Illinois. Guttering street lamps meld with the cold light of the ghastly-pale moon. It’s October 29th of 1978.
A sense of wrongness mingles with the scent of decaying leaves and the biting promise of winter in the air.
Even the theme song isn’t playing like it’s supposed to, like a record with scratches. A low voice from an unseen being chants along with the tune, “Yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah…”
Chapter 1
1998, Evil Lair, somewhere beneath international waters
Scottie was a disappointment. Surely, he had to be adopted, switched at birth. There was no way the blood in Dr. Douglas Evil’s veins flowed through Scottie’s. There was not an iota of malicious mastermind in the boy’s vacuous veins.
But that was no matter now. Elation vibrated through every cell in Dr. Evil’s body. “Aha! I’ve found him! The one! The. One.” He stood and threw out his arms, letting out a belly-deep, gusto-filled “Muahahahaha!”
He scowled in annoyance and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Minions!”
Ted from Lurid Lightning and Joe from Sinister Sound Effects peered over from above the tops of their cubicles and removed their headphones.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?” Dr. Evil asked. For good measure, he vaporized Ted with a ray gun. “And, we’re going to need a new lighting tech. Never liked that guy anyway. Always bragging about his nephews, when some of us don’t even have nephews! Take that, Ted! Oh, lovely, your nephew designed the lasers for the mutated sea bass. Well, aren’t you just special.”
Several minutes later, Dr. Evil repeated his speech. Right on cue, as he laughed wickedly, lightning flashed and the floor shook with thunder. The lights flickered, and Dr. Evil did a very evil version of the Macarena.
“Excuse me, but, who is The One?” Frau asked with her wide, lipsticked smile.
“Right here, Frau!” Dr. Evil cackled and proudly pointed to a passage in an old book written by one Dr. Loomis. He spoke in an ominous tone as he read the other doctor’s words aloud. “‘When I look into his eyes, I see nothing but a void. There is no soul there. Only the purest evil.’ This is my son! My real son!”
“Well, let’s get started to bring the boy home. Where is he now?” Frau asked, eager as always to further the glorious cause of evil.
“When is what you mean. Let’s not bother with bringing him here, for now,” Dr. Evil said. “We are going to go to the past, to when he’s getting started. This promising young man didn’t achieve nearly the greatness he could have. Cast aside by his family, his genius locked away behind the walls of an asylum! We must show him his true evil genius. We will guide him. Well, Michael, your daddy is coming home! Oh, and Frau, get me some grenades to toss with the boy. We can throw them at misbehaving minions. Much better than tossing a baseball.”
“How are we getting to the past?” Frau asked. “We can’t cryogenically freeze ourselves back in time.”
“Aha! I’m glad you asked, Frau. You see, I’ve been planning for that, and I had one Terry Silver of Dynatox build us…a time machine!” He paused in annoyance. “Uh, lighting? Special effects?”
Chapter Text
Laurie Strode awoke in her bed on the morning of October 30, 1978. Unease danced along the length of her spine. The hair on her nape rose. Her alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, but there was no way she could go back to sleep.
Why am I feeling like this? It’s just another morning.
Something’s wrong. I can’t explain it. It’s like every sense is screaming danger. But, I’m safe in my bed. It’s another school day. I’m being silly.
Laurie laughed at herself, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that life was going to be jarred from its normal course.
* * * * *
Austin Powers happily drove along Sunset Boulevard in his sleek convertible. He had just the perfect weekend coming up with Victoria. A couples’ resort, and he had every intention of getting the party going.
The television screen flashed with a transmission. “Austin! Austin, it’s urgent!” Only Austin couldn’t make out the rest.
“What’s that?” Austin shouted over his music. “You’ll have to speak up!”
“Blarga blarga blarg. Confidential! Blahdy blady bleh! Music!”
Austin sighed and turned down the volume. “What was that?”
“—down your music!” the man shouted into a bullhorn, as Austin slowed his car. “This is strictly confidential! We found Dr. Evil’s lair, and he’s gone back in time!”
The nearby motorists and people on the sidewalk stopped to gaze at Austin in interest.
"Back in time? Groovy! I mean, I'm sure he has some nefarious scheme planned, but I would love to step back in time to a more familiar scene. Oh, if we use his time machine while he's gone, can I go visit the Victorian Era? That would be smashing."
"Dash it all, man, we don't have time to play around."
Austin smiled mischievously. "Or do we?"
Chapter Text
Rain pelted the panicked Dr. Loomis as he ran through the night outside the asylum. Some escaped patients milled, ignorant of the lashing storm. Others raced toward freedom.
The guard in the gate kiosk had had his throat slashed open, scarlet ribbons darkening the collar of his uniform.
Evil had been unleashed. How? Why, after fifteen years, was Michael making his move? Did he have the sophistication to break out of a high security place like this?
A scream rang out from the station wagon as a patient punched at the windows. The nurse inside, his companion for the drive, shrieked in terror. She scrambled out of the car, sliding in the mud.
The patient immediately disintegrated as a man all in black shot a gun with a laser. It was straight out of a sci-fi movie.
“Wrong person, Number 2!” came a voice from the sky. “We’re freeing the patients! Now, find my son!”
Lightning flashed, illuminating the grinning face of Elby’s Big Boy, floating like a forlorn ghost over the apocalyptic landscape.
I’m hallucinating! Hallucinating from the sheer horror. This is textbook,Dr. Loomis reassured himself, even as he panted and blinked rapidly.
“Ted’s nephew did awesome work with these guns!” the black-clad man shouted.
“Shut up about Ted!” came the unholy voice from the sky. “My real son is going to be a true malicious mastermind, a Marquis of the macabre, a maestro of malfeasance! Son! Daddy is here to save you!”
Yes, a hallucination. Impossible to be real!
The nurse had fainted dead away. Not completely dead. She was still breathing. But that was hardly the issue at hand. Besides the bizarre scene playing out in front of him, the truth of the situation hit him like a mack truck. Michael had escaped. Where would he run off to? Ah, but of course. He must alert the police. They had to get to Haddonfield!
Chapter Text
Dr. Evil hit the button for The Claw, as Frau laughed beside him.
“This is just like those kiddie games,” she said. “Hit the button and it picks up the prize!”
“But I keep getting the wrong ones!” Dr. Evil spat in annoyance. This latest catch was a shrieking woman in one of the asylum nurse’s uniforms. With a sigh, he hit the button to release her. He ignored the scream as she fell to her inevitable end into the trees below. Hopefully his son would appreciate the body count. He couldn’t wait to show off his real son to Scottie. Scottie would be so jealous, as he should be!
“Yes, but that’s the fun of it!” Frau said. “You have to keep trying and you don’t even have to use spare change or tokens.”
“Do you have his mask?” Dr. Evil asked in annoyance. He wasn't enjoying the game much as he should. He was impatient to find Michael.
“Yes! In fact, I brought extras to give him a selection,” Frau said, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. That was why he kept her. Even if she could be annoying, she had buckets and buckets of enthusiasm for unleashing blight and fear upon the unsuspecting world. With luck, this entire world would be his, and Michael’s. Michael Evil, perhaps the second doctor, the heir to take up his illustrious mantle.
I need to get an illustrious mantle - some kind of dramatic cape, woven with fibers of hopelessness and the color of undistilled dread. Hmm, what color would work? Navy blue? Smoky gray, perhaps?
The Claw game went poorly for perhaps another forty-five excruciating minutes. Frau’s delight never wavered. She clapped her hands each time Dr. Evil retrieved someone else, only to send them to their shrieking doom. One guy got away with a sprained ankle and shouted that he thought he might have tetanus. A slow death then. Still a success!
But then, Dr. Evil retrieved a nondescript man in his early twenties with sodden hair. He was incredibly tall, so not quite nondescript. He made no sound as he was hoisted in the air. No screams of terror or denial. No fear. And he matched the image in Dr. Loomis’s book. Perfect!
Dr. Evil opened the hatch and the Claw, with its steel arms, held Michael behind the front two seats.
“Take over, Frau!” Dr. Evil said, rising. He stretched out his arms. “Michael…” He lowered his voice, trying to make it ominous. “I am your father.” He let loose a tiny giggle and placed his pinky at the corner of his lips.
“That’s not actually the way the line goes,” Frau murmured.
“Who cares? That’s the way everyone remembers it in the 90s,” Dr. Evil snapped in annoyance. “In fact, changing it is going to be one of the first things I’ll do when I take over the world.”
Michael only stared. Once in the light, with the dark brown hair out of his face, he seemed to be quite a handsome man. In fact, cleaned up, without the mud and gunk all over him from the storm, he would be considered a gorgeous man. Small, pouting lips. Sharp cheekbones. Flat forehead with no sign of a receding hairline. Those bright eyes were unsettling, fixed on Dr. Evil, and full of malice. Silent.
“Now, I understand if this is all quite sudden. Here you were, going about your life, thinking your future held nothing, and then your absentee, deadbeat dad appears. But, I’ll have you know, I only just learned about you. Your mother never told me, raised you in ignorance of your birthright! Yet, true evil genius can never be denied.” Dr. Evil smiled. He thought it’d be easier if he just pretended to be the man’s real father, and why not? “I am Michael Myers, Sr., son, but I now call myself Dr. Evil!”
For whatever reason, he loved that name. Michael Myers, as if it got at the core of his very soul. And he didn’t want to let these people in the past know he’d returned, so an alias was certainly helpful.
“I am here to nurture your true dreams,” Dr. Evil continued. “Together, son, you and I are going to take over the world, and this Halloween, October 31st of 1978, is going to be one to remember! Muahahahaha!”
“Boom! Crash! Whoooo! Sounds of lightning and ghosties and goblins!” Frau cried, cheerfully being the sound effects machine he needed. If only all his minions were like dear Frau.
Michael remained silent.
Chapter Text
Dr. Loomis panted as he stood at a telephone booth. A man nearby crawled on the ground dramatically, dying of tetanus and raving about a Big Boy and a claw machine. Could this be some kind of mass delusion? Was there a gas leak somewhere? No matter.
“Yes, he’s coming to Haddonfield,” Dr. Loomis insisted into the receiver.
“How do you know?” came the voice of Sheriff Leigh Brackett. “It’s been fifteen years since those murders. Would he even be able to find his way here?”
“I believe his quest for revenge will drive him home, his desire for blood and death,” Dr. Loomis insisted.
“But that doesn’t work as well as a map,” Sheriff Brackett argued. “Rage never got me anywhere, except the local bar, and once in a bed with a county commissioner and the Register of Wills. But, let’s not talk about that.”
Obviously, Brackett did want to talk about that, but Dr. Loomis didn’t have the time or the drive to provide a free session for him. Even if he was curious about that night. “Michael is…pure evil.”
“You think he’s just going to hitchhike? You said he doesn’t talk,” Brackett said.
“He might be able to drive,” Loomis said. But how well could he drive if he’d never had a single lesson? Yet no one had taught him how to murder either. The man was a “true evil genius,” as he’d written in what was going to be a book about his time treating Michael. In fact, that was the working title - True Evil Genius - My Sessions with the Embodiment of Pure Evil.
“I’m his doctor. I know him better than anyone alive. I assure you, Michael is coming home. We must prepare for the inevitable.”
* * * * *
Michael was home. And, unfortunately, he was a disappointment. Dr. Evil was in a foul mood. He paced back and forth while Frau made ominous thunder and lightning sound effects in the evil underground fortress Virtucon had set up in a forest near Haddonfield. Dr. Evil had come back a day early, just to prepare for what was supposed to be a glorious night.
“Don’t you think you’re being too harsh?” Frau asked. “You just brought the boy home. He has a lot to take in. He’s meeting his daddy for the first time.”
“Some excitement would be nice!” Dr. Evil snapped. “No, I can’t even get a ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Not even a smile. I didn’t expect him to start ordering minions right away, but I can’t even get a single monologue out of him. Not even a half-hearted muahahahaha!” He waved his arms in frustration as his soles clicked on the silver tiles below his wingtips. “The only promising thing is that he tried to stab me. He has some aspirations - dethroning his old man to assume power. But he doesn’t know what to do with it yet. He’s unrefined, crude, direction—“
“Sir!” Number 2 raced into the room, panting. “Michael’s escaped, and left a trail of bodies!”
“How could this happen?” Dr. Evil demanded. He was sloppy enough to leave a trail, and… “You have frickin’ laser guns! He gets away with a knife? Why isn’t he using a laser gun? He has all this technology at his disposal. Murder and mayhem should have a sense of style about it. An old knife won't do. Classic, yes, but not showy enough."
“He did take several of the mutated sea bass, sir,” Number 2 said with a hopeful look, as if this made anything better.
I miss Scottie. At least Scottie would talk to me. I can’t get anything out of Michael. I’ve given him everything his evil heart could desire. Even an argument would be better than this!
“I think he’s trying to get your attention to prove himself!” Frau said brightly. “He was soooo very overwhelmed by all those people you killed with the Claw and all the ray guns going zappy-zappy.” She made pew pew sounds and aimed a finger gun around the room. “He’s probably feeling intimidated by you and wants your reassurance.”
“That has to be it,” Dr. Evil decided. “The mission remains the same. We aren’t going to give up! I am going to watch his reign of murder and encourage him and provide paternal guidance. I’ll show him I’m a supportive dad, and I’ll help him grow. That’s what he needs! Deploy everyone to disguise themselves and find him!”
Speaking of disguises, Michael had chosen that same old mask Dr. Evil had seen in the photographs. And Frau had furnished him with so many better options. There was Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinski, and George H. W. Bush. Frau, like Dr. Evil, had suspected Michael would gravitate toward being a world leader, or at least an important political figure. Hell, he’d even passed up the mask of that cartoon lab rat who wanted to take over the world. What was he thinking with a mask of some dude from a science fiction show?
Chapter Text
Laurie hadn’t been able to rid herself of her growing unease. She’d barely slept the previous night, and now it was October 31st. Halloween.
Annie and Lynda walked alongside her, beneath the old trees that lined the sidewalk. The trio chatted about their evening plans, which involved babysitting for both Annie and Laurie. Lynda, as usual, had plans with Bob.
A station wagon slowed, a masked man behind the wheel, staring through the dark sockets at the three women.
“Creep!” Lynda shouted.
The station wagon’s brake lights lit red as it slowed further, just as an engine revved from further down the street. Something far more interesting than the creepy guy was coming - a convertible painted with the Union Jack and a smiling, brown-haired man behind the wheel. Loud music blared from the speakers.
This wasn’t the only strange thing. Behind it came a double decker bus, painted with the brown-haired man’s face and bright psychedelic flowers. Music from the bus was a roar on the quiet street. It was full of women and men, dancing by waving their fists up and down and shimmying.
Doo-da-doo-doo, da-doo-da-doo-doo the catchy music went. Hell, Laurie even wanted to join the dancing.
“Austin! Austin!” many aboard the bus shouted.
“My name’s Mike! I'm a, uh, an actor! I don’t know who else you think I could be!” shouted the man in the car. He had a thick British accent. “But, heheh, I am down for a shag, no matter what you wanna call me!”
The creepy guy in the station wagon started to get out of his car, but the strange Brit blew by, narrowly missing the door. He started to open the door again, except the party bus stopped that effort. After that, he seemed to give up, because he merely drove away without a word.
“Who was that guy in the crazy car?” Lynda asked, twirling her hair.
“I dunno,” Annie said, rocking on her heels, and intermittently humming the song they’d just heard. “Some kinda celebrity doing a bad job staying under cover?”
“I’m more concerned about the creep in the station wagon,” Laurie said, hugging herself and rubbing her arms against the sudden chill.
“Oh, he’s just some weirdo. Probably wanted to hit on us lovely, innocent girls.” Lynda waved off her concerns with a sly wink. “Well, I’m gonna go get ready for my date with Bob. I’ll catch you two later!”
Annie walked beside Laurie once the two waved Lynda off. Laurie was relieved by the company, even if she suddenly had little enthusiasm for the evening’s festivities and couldn’t pay attention to Annie’s prattling about Paul. The music stuck in her head did cheer her, until she caught movement up ahead.
Laurie stopped, breath freezing in her lungs. “He’s there. Behind the shrub.”
Annie made a disgusted sound and stomped toward the offending hedge, cut to look like a wall. Laurie held her breath. Annie disappeared behind the hedge and Laurie waited and waited, wondering if she should go after Annie. But her legs refused to move.
“What…the fuck?” came Annie’s voice.
Laurie exhaled, legs shaking with relief.
Annie walked backward onto the sidewalk, still staring at whatever it was.
“Annie! Get over here!” Laurie shouted, hating the notes of blind panic in her voice.
Annie stopped, not moving.
“Why you all gawpin’ at me like ye’ve no seen a man eatin’ ribs?” said a man with a heavy Scottish brogue.
Annie sprinted toward Laurie, brown hair bouncing around her shoulders. “There’s a large man in a kilt.” She laughed suddenly. “Probably just eating the food before his party starts.”
“He must be really good at getting into character.” Laurie laughed at her own foolishness.
* * * * *
Austin pulled his car into an alley and held his blue velvet blazer over his head to shield himself from the bus of fans that had somehow arrived from the U.K. How could they have known he was here? It didn’t matter, really. It was heartwarming that they hadn’t forgotten him in the last decade. While this was inconvenient, he’d spin it to his advantage.
He’d been briefed on the events of October 31, 1978 in Haddonfield, Illinois. He figured the best way to stop several murders was to throw a groovy Halloween party right at the Strode residence. No one could get away with murder with so many people around. Laurie wouldn’t even know about it until several hundred people arrived.
Evil was afoot, and Dr. Evil surely wouldn’t be far behind.
The bell jangled atop the door of the Halloween supply store as he entered. The shop was full of decorations and costumes. He’d normally go to a sex shop, but Laurie was in high school. Big no on that one.
The woman behind the counter was an attractive redhead with glittery devil horns perched upon her head. Austin was in the past now, so surely a little flirtation wouldn’t hurt, even if he was technically engaged.
“Well, hello.” He propped his elbows on the counter and waggled his brows.
She snapped to attention as she snapped her gum.
“Are things hot down under?” he asked.
The clerk raised her brows and looked Austin up and down. “Uhhh, I’ve never seen you before.”
“And you’d remember if you had.” He winked, and was about to introduce himself when he remembered the alias he was using - the same one Dr. Evil chose, just to make things more confusing for the villain. And, truth be told, the name struck a chord with Austin.
“I’m Mike Myers.”
Chapter Text
Dr. Loomis entered Michael’s old house alongside Sheriff Brackett. Brackett didn’t even have his gun drawn, like it was just some regular abandoned house. The windows were boarded up, glass smashed on the floor.
“What smells?” Brackett covered his nose with his shirt. “Smells like fish.”
“Michael’s been here,” Loomis murmured, stepping into the long dark hallways, covered with the dust of years and the aura of despair that clung to places where murder had transpired. The sheriff rolled his eyes at Loomis's dramatics as they began to search the house.
But upstairs, in the bedroom where Michael had murdered his sister, there was something strange on the floor. Something inhuman. Some type of finned creature with reptilian eyes and gigantic fangs. Its innards had been ripped out. Partially eaten. What had happened here? Where had this fish-like animal come from? And who would eat such a disgusting creature raw?
"We can't sit around and wait for his return. He could be out there murdering innocents right now," Loomis said.
"Or he could be miles away, having a beer, enjoying his freedom. Some kids leaving some kinda weird dead animal in what they consider a haunted house is no proof that Myers is back."
"Oh, he's back," Loomis said ominously. "I know it." And the thought of Michael Myers having a beer was absurd. Almost as absurd as the fish at his feet. Loomis thought the sheriff should be more concerned about the strange creature, but at this moment, Michael Myers was more important.
The sheriff’s radio crackled at his hip. “Sheriff Brackett! We’ve found Myers!”
“Where is he? Did you bring him into custody?” the Sheriff asked.
Aha! Proof! Finally! The sheriff would have to believe Loomis now.
“No, but he was spotted not long ago,” the woman’s voice said.
“Where was he?” the sheriff demanded. “I want all units on this. It’s not like there’s much else going on in Haddonfield.”
“We’ve had a few sightings. One was in Julep’s Party Plaza,” the voice said. “He approached the woman there.”
Loomis grabbed the radio from Brackett’s belt. “How many did he murder?”
“No one?” the woman replied. “Myers tapped her costume devil horns and asked, ‘Do I make you horny, baby?’ and then promised to turn Haddonfield into Hedonfield. I…guy seems pretty strange.”
“That isn’t our Michael,” Loomis said, as Brackett gave him a skeptical look.
“See? Guy just wants to have fun and get laid,” Brackett said. “Call off the available units. This is not an emergency.”
Loomis sighed. It wasn’t like Michael Myers was an uncommon name - a combination of two of the most common names out there.
“What were the other sightings?” Loomis asked, hoping for something more substantial.
“One was at Dusty’s Ribs. A huge guy in a Scottish Halloween costume - kilt and all. He demanded baby-back ribs and sang about them, before chasing after some children,” the woman replied. “And the last one… The last one is really strange. He went into a pet store and stole all the fish food. He had a team of people in, um, Virtucon jackets with him to carry it all out.”
Loomis glanced toward the partially-eaten monstrosities at his feet.
Brackett snatched the radio from Loomis. “Never mind. I want all units on this. He’s terrorizing children and stealing?”
“Yeah, the Scottish guy screaming at them to get in his belly,” the woman said. “But the woman at the party supply store insisted he had on a blue velvet blazer and some kinda ruffled shirt. And the clerk at the pet shop said he was bald and wearing a gray suit. I have sketch artists working on pictures now.”
What was happening? How many Michael Myerses could there be? And why today of all days?
Chapter Text
Dr. Evil couldn’t get the sharks with lasers in the 1990’s. So, he figured the mutant sea bass would have to do. And Michael had eaten several of them, and carried off a few. This was unforgivable. They were for protection! Not for meals.
Had he done all this for nothing? Was this entire trip a waste of time? He stroked Mr. Bigglesworth. “Scottie is going to laugh at this. That’s what he’s going to do. He’s going to call me a loser, and tell me my evil plans failed again, even without Austin Powers meddling. He’s going to point at me, and all his friends are going to point at me. And they’re all going to say, ‘Haha, Dougie, you’ve failed! You’re a washed up, has been.’”
“You seem to care a lot about what Scottie thinks,” Frau said, setting a tray of tea in front of him.
“I don’t care what he thinks! He isn’t really my son!” Dr. Evil insisted. “He had to be switched at birth or maybe the wrong sperm was used to create him. This trip has been a waste!”
“Well, I planned something to cheer you up.” She stepped behind him and rubbed his shoulders.
Dr. Evil sighed in pleasure. “Oh, yes, right there. There’s a knot. To the left a little. Ahhhh!” He swallowed. “The tea and the massage are very nice, but we’ve time traveled because that foolish Dr. Loomis lied in his book. Lied, just to sell his work probably.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe he isn't your type of evil? That his taste in murder and mayhem is just too different than your own sense of impeccable style? Well, there are more evil people around than just Michael,” Frau said. “So, I’ve taken the liberty of throwing an evil Halloween party.”
“You’ve what?” Dr. Evil looked up into the familiar, loving face peering down at him with nothing but warm encouragement.
“It’s not just a Halloween party. It’s an evil summit! I went and sent festive invitations to the most evil of the evil to join up with you. You should see the invitations! They have the pumpkins and the bats! Evil bats and evil pumpkins! They’re going to love them, and one of them’ll have to be just perfect for you. One can even enter people’s dreams and kill them in their sleep.”
“What?!” Now that intrigued Dr. Evil. He could hold the dreams of world leaders hostage, refusing them restful nights until they capitulated to whatever he decided his demands were going to be.
“He was a little complicated to invite,” Frau said, holding out her hands.
******
"My name is Mike! I'm quite serious!" Austin carried bags of decorations in each hand down the sidewalk towards his car. A flock of young men and women surrounded him, asking for his autograph.
"Okay, listen. I may not be this Powers guy, but you are all invited to a party tonight, yeah!"
Women squealed happily and suddenly, upbeat pop music was playing. Austin tossed the bags in his car and began to dance with two blondes. In moments, everyone was dancing, the crowd growing larger, spilling out into the street of the sleepy town. Austin was ecstatic; completely swept up in the moment. He was so preoccupied dancing with the lovely ladies, that he never noticed a large man with a chainsaw run through the crowd. People began to scream and run as the figure with a strange mask that appeared to be human flesh chopped off limbs and gave chase to Austin's fans. Blood sprayed, the chainsaw whirled, and bodies hit the pavement. Austin himself was oblivious. He danced and snapped his fingers, heading back to his car. Then he hopped in, cranked his own groovy tunes, and yelled, "See you cats at the party!"
He never bothered looking in the rear view mirror. If he had he would have been shocked at the carnage taking place on a lovely afternoon in small-town Illinois.
Chapter Text
Fat Bastard snoozed against the wooden fence of some abandoned house, full on an order of ribs. His dreams were pleasant: he was back in the highland heather while ribs rained from the skies, spattering barbecue sauce across the lush green landscape. The sun was shining through the rib-rain. Bagpipes played a merry tune.
In his dream, he grabbed a rack of ribs before it hit the ground. But it began to bubble and seethe, growing into…something. A baby-like creature with exposed ribs that began screaming in an unholy wail. It opened a mouth full of fangs and fixed him with yellow eyes.
“Baby back ribs,” cackled a gravelly voice from behind him, full of malice.
“Oh! Aye,” Fat Bastard said, turning around. “Hey, lad, think you got a bit of a burn there. On your face.” He bit the arm off the creature, ignoring its hissing cry.
"Your dreams aren't what I'm after, you fat bitch," said the ugly burn victim in an equally ugly sweater. He wore a strange hat and had knives on one hand. "I want the children."
"Oh! Baby! The other other white meat! That sounds delicious!" Fat Bastard smacked his lips together. "If you're going to kill them, can I have what's left? It would be a nice entrée for this party I'm going to tonight."
The scar-faced man stared at him for a minute before throwing his head back with a maniacal laugh. "Party, huh? I believe I was also invited. Sure, fatso, I'll line up a nice snack for you, ha, ha!"
"It's Fat Bastard, actually. What's your name, dream murderer guy?"
"Freddy."
*****
Austin crept through the back window of the Strode house. No one was home, which he had known already. He saw Laurie take off down the street, chatting with a friend about babysitting. He had no idea where her parents were. He helped a pretty young brunette climb in behind him.
"Okay, baby, let's decorate and surprise Laurie."
"Who is this Laurie girl? Your girlfriend?" The woman didn't sound jealous but genuinely curious. She was the sort that was all about sexual freedom; which was exactly why she was a huge fan of Austin's. Though she knew his Mike Myers pseudonym was fake, she played along. Wherever Austin went, a good time usually followed.
Austin waved his hand dismissively. "No, baby, she's a teenager! I'm not interested in underage girls. She's just a friend who needs a pick-me-up party. Let's decorate quickly before guests arrive."
Chapter Text
Annie spilled butter all over her clothes, cursing loudly. Stripping in the kitchen, she had no idea that Michael, the real one, was watching her through the French doors to the side porch. Perhaps he was expecting a peep show, but a thick candle blocked his view of her lower region. As she turned, she held two small pumpkins in front of her, blocking any view of her chest.
"We almost forgot to carve these!" she said. "Oh well, I hate Halloween anyway."
Her words had Michael breathing heavily. His first sign of an emotional reaction. He walked around to the other side of the house. A few minutes later, Annie was taking the girl she was babysitting across the street. This was the perfect opportunity to take care of that Halloween hating teen!
* * * * *
"Laurie, the Boogeyman is outside!"
Laurie rolled her eyes at Tommy. It wasn't the first time he had screamed that tonight. She didn't even bother to look this time. Tommy was a cute kid but he was prone to hysterics, apparently.
Would that disbelief be her downfall? Behind the bushes next door, Fat Bastard was gnawing on a child's rib. He had managed to grab a small lost boy, but the skinny child was hardly enough for his appetite. The chunkier children were always in a crowd. Perhaps it was time to give up and head to Dr. Evil's party. Freddy might be there and perhaps others who could assist in getting him a proper meal.
As he tossed the last bones aside, a short figure approached him. A child? It wore a burlap sack on its head with holes cut out for eyes. There was some kind of orange onesie covering its body. One hand held a broken jack-o-lantern lollipop. Fat Bastard clapped his huge hands in glee.
"Oh, a baby! You are tiny but I am still so hungry. Why have candy on Halloween when I can have ribs?!"
The tiny figure cocked its head at him but said nothing. He wasn't afraid in the least. The last thing Fat Bastard remembered was an orange body leaping on his face.
Chapter Text
Dr. Evil was hopeful when Michael approached the brunette in the car - the sheriff’s daughter.
“Aha! Brilliant, my boy,” Dr. Evil cheered, fire coursing through his veins. A paternal sense of pride welled in his chest. “Now you’re going to— Ah, I see, you’re going to strangle her until she’s unconscious. Then when she wakes, she’ll be suspended over our pit of mutated sea bass! Muhahaha-huh?”
The sheriff’s daughter was turning blue.
“Michael! Michael!” Dr. Evil shouted. “You’re killing her. We can’t ransom for her piles of money or control of the town if she’s dead!”
Could they hang a corpse over the sea bass, only air it for a few minutes, and say she was alive? But that would take something away from Dr. Evil’s reputation, and world governments in the 90’s might believe acquiescing to his demands would be worthless.
“Great! Now she is dead.” Dr. Evil forced a deep breath into his lungs. Maybe, maybe it had been an accident. “Would you just talk to dear old dad? Can we have a father-son, you and me, you know, heart to heart?” He tilted his head and pointed at his chest, then to Michael, who was getting up out of the car.
But Michael just slowly walked away, not paying him any mind. Did Michael even understand him? Dr. Evil followed, hope dwindling.
* * * * *
Michael was in the middle of stabbing a teen boy when suddenly Dr. Evil was tapping him on the shoulder. How did he get in the house, much less know which house Michael was in? Was his father stalking him?
The boy in his hand twitched so Michael slit his throat. Blood oozed.
"You know, I'm not against the killing, okay. I want you to know that. I just-" Dr. Evil started, but was interrupted when blood squirted from the teen's neck, hitting his white shoe. The bald man frowned but continued.
"My concern here is your future. What are your goals? How does killing a teenager meet them? Wha-"
Blood squirted again, this time for a second longer. Dr. Evil opened his mouth, then another stream of blood shot out. He waited impatiently, then tried again.
"I mean, you have so much potential, son. Try some political leaders. Why don't you-"
A stream of blood hit him in the face. Some even got in his open mouth. Sputtering, Dr. Evil lost his patience. “Geez, is he dead already or what? Geez! I mean! Give me a frickin’ break! Can't even have a frickin’ father-son talk here!"
But Michael was done listening. He still had a girl upstairs to deal with and his so-called father was being too noisy. He dropped the boy and walked away, completely ignoring the blood splattered man.
"You know what? Fine! I'm going to the party Frau is throwing to find a better son! I’m not even really your father! Scottie is a better boy than you!” Dr. Evil stomped away in indignation.
* * * * *
Laurie stared at Annie’s strangled body, trying not to scream. The bruises lie in blotchy purple and blue marks around her once-lively friend’s neck. And this after finding a boy who she couldn’t quite recognize stabbed to death inside. She raced from the garage.
“Disappointing, isn’t it?” remarked a man stepping from the shrubbery. He was bald and pasty, wearing a gray suit. He didn’t appear to be carrying a knife.
“I…I need to get to a phone!” Laurie stepped back several paces.
“A truly senseless death by a young man who never emerged from his cocoon. He decided to stay…a caterpillar,” the stranger lamented. “Never soared for the sun, or tried to spread his wings to flit to the well-manicured roses.”
Laurie didn’t know why she didn’t run away. Perhaps it was simply running into another adult who wasn’t trying to kill her. “M-my friend is dead! My friend!”
“Yes, I see that. But, if she’d been armed with a laser gun or something— You know what, I’ll have some of my minions take the sittees - is that the right word for kids you’re babysitting? Because I really don’t know. - to the neighbors and watch them while you get to a phone.”
Ray guns? Minions? Did this guy think this was all a joke?
“Ahem!” the stranger said loudly.
A crash of lightning sounded and lights strobed. Laurie held her arms up to block the blinding flashes.
“No! I’m not looking for sound effects. Way to rub in my failure!” the stranger raged. “Get out here and be minions!”
Masked men in black stepped out from behind the shrubs, carrying futuristic-looking guns. Except a few, who looked a bit stoned, carried sheets of thin metal and strobe lights. Those lights looked expensive, and where were they even plugged in? What was actually going on here?
The men all knelt down, striking fists to their breasts, shouting, “Dr. Evil! My liege!”
“Turn your laser guns on the enemies of this young lady’s sittees,” Dr. Evil started.
Or maybe it was Dr. Weevil. Surely she’d misheard.
“Like furniture?” one of the stoned guys asked.
“Yeah, man. He said ‘settees,’” the other said. “They’re probably evil settees.”
“I’m referring to the children she’s babysit— Scottie, is that you?” Dr. Weevil asked.
One of the stoned guys removed his mask to glare at Dr. Weevil. “Yeah, it’s me. Like I’d let you go into the past without supervision.”
“You…you care about me?” Dr. Weevil pressed his palms over his heart and sniffled loudly, tears trickling down his cheeks.
“You came here to replace me,” Scottie said, rising. “And fuck up the past? Since that made you feel good, you know Austin Powers is here, too, right?”
Why did that name sound familiar? Was that the man being chased by the party bus?
“Austin…Powers?” Dr. Weevil pressed his pinky to the corner of his thin lips.
“Yeah, he’s throwing a party at some Laurie Strobe chick’s house,” Scottie replied. “Bet it’ll be better than the evil party you’re having. People will actually go to that—"
Laurie Strobe? She had to be hearing wrong. Maybe this was all a terrible dream?
“Every time!” Dr. Weevil raged, before launching into some kind of ranting monologue.
The minions with the metal sheets and strobe lights - with the exception of Scottie - started the flashing lights and thunder again. Laurie could only gape at them all in confusion.
“Go!” Scottie said, shooing her off. “I got the kids.”
Could she trust this strange man? His minions or whatever had guns! But then again, he was offering to help and Laurie's mind was too muddled from terror and grief. And something may or may not be happening at her house.
Chapter Text
Michael Myers walked slowly along the concrete sidewalk beneath the trees, crowned in fiery dying leaves. His own parents had been disappointed by his achievements. They’d never once supported him. And now, this so-called Dr. Evil wanted him to like…take over the world? Why? Why would I ever want that kind of responsibility?
Fuck. My sister picked on me. My parents did, too. And, Dr. Evil just…said he’d support me? But he’s the same. Always the fucking same. Study hard. Read War and Peace at two years old. Now run every country in existence? No! There are way too many people I’d have to single-handedly butcher.
His boots, still caked with the dried blood of his recent victims, crunched on the dead leaves that decorated the sidewalk. Michael was so done. To think, he’d been taken aback when that claw thing had pulled him into the floating Big Boy. It wasn’t someone wanting to hurt him, or talking down to him. It was Dr. Evil and that lady, Frau. Frau had even prepared a bedroom for him. He’d bet Dr. Evil had insisted on world maps with the names of countries’ leaders and main exports. Dr. Evil was probably behind the chessboard, too. Did Michael look like he was the type to play chess? But, Frau had left apple juice, some cans of beer, some horror books about clowns, cheese crackers, and a tray of cookies. She had tried, just like she kept trying for Dr. Evil.
Michael growled under his mask. He knew what would make him feel better.
* * * * *
Laurie raced home, her heart beating wildly. She had to get help! That Dr. Evil or Weevil guy might have said he would take care of the kids, but she didn’t know him. He had been way too calm about people being murdered. If she could get the police to show up…
She stopped in her driveway. Why were all the lights on? What was the music pumping through the open door? It was that same doo-da-doo-doo song that had been stuck in her head all day. The house was covered in Halloween decorations, and she could see the silhouettes of people swaying and swinging their arms up and down. Running inside, she found her house packed full of people. All had smiles plastered on their faces as they danced.
Maybe she should be angry that there were all these people in her house without her permission. Were those her parents, each grinding on some dude with long hair and bell bottoms?
Relief flooded her. Lots of people meant safety. It was far better than an empty house and playing some kind of cat and mouse game where she tried to run into closets.
“Help! Can someone help me?!” she shouted, trying to be heard over the music.
“Here, babe,” someone said, holding a joint over her shoulder.
A woman with poofy hair and a brightly-patterned dress with butterfly wings shoved a beer into her palm. “Isn’t Austin the greatest?”
“Who? Where is Austin?” Laurie shouted.
“Welcome, all you cats,” shouted a smug voice over the speakers. The man in a blue velvet jacket, the one she’d seen in the convertible, stepped onto the stage in front of the band, who stopped playing. He had the most horrible teeth. He wore a pair of black cat ears and a tail. He’d drawn whiskers on his face and placed a spot of black on his nose.
“Whooooh!”
“We love you!”
“Austin!”
There was Laurie’s answer.
“Haha, I told you, you naughty kittens, you, I’m not Austin Powers. I’m Michael Myers.” He held a hand out in front of him, like a paw, and winked, before laughing more.
More shouts of “Austin!” ensued. Laurie had to get to that microphone. If she could get everyone's attention about the murders…then again, maybe that wasn't the best idea. If the crowd panicked, people could get hurt. What could she do? Perhaps the guy hosting the party would at least listen. Her parents looked three sheets to the wind.
"Austin! I mean, Mr. Myers! I need to talk to you!" She shouted as she pushed her way towards him.
Austin, already back to dancing, whipped around and began bobbing his head to the music as he made his way towards Laurie. "Hello, you must be Laurie. What's the matter, baby? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I–I, there are dead people! My friends were murdered!" Laurie finally broke down sobbing.
“Ohhh, oh!”’Austin stopped dancing. “Listen, that’s what I’m here for. That’s what this party’s for.”
“What? You’re having a party in my house because my friends have been murdered?” Laurie could only stare dumbfounded, yet there was something oddly reassuring about the smiling man with his mop of brown hair.
“Well, your friends were supposed to be at the party, too. But, at least you’re here. I know what it’s like to lose important people.” His piercing eyes met hers and she believed him. “There’s safety in numbers, Laurie. And, we have a few hundred people. I will call the police and let them know as long as you stay here.” He leaned closer. “And, I’ll let you in on a secret.” He lowered his glasses, even though they weren’t sunglasses, and didn’t need to be lowered at all, “I really am Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery.”
Perhaps Laurie was getting a contact high, or maybe it was all the trauma that had built up, and she felt the need to cling to anything goofy, some small shred of light, but she laughed and laughed.
Chapter Text
Dr. Evil stared down the long table. Frau had covered it with a festive orange tablecloth with spiderweb designs. Bowls of candy and pumpkin cookies were lined up at precise intervals for the guests. And Dr. Evil took a deep breath to finish his monologue.
“And tonight, this Halloween of 1978, one of you will be lucky enough to be chosen as my son, the heir to the Evil Empire! The rest of you can join the esteemed ranks of my minions!”
“Yeah, and get lasered to dust when you make one mistake.” Scottie sulked in the shadows, arms folded across his chest. “Or abandoned and replaced.”
“Oooh, Scottie, is someone jealous?” Dr. Evil turned around to face his disappointment. “You can’t ever be supportive. Just one little, ‘good job, Evil Dad.’ But, no, I can’t even get that. Instead, you interrupt my monologue. It’s like…you have this illustrious evil legacy in your blood, and you use it solely on me!”
“Whatever.” Scottie pouted. “Go, finish your monologue. Everyone’s bored.”
Dr. Evil gave no reply but turned to Frau. “Please tell the children to play elsewhere while we discuss important matters here.”
Tommy and Lindsey were laughing and chasing each other around with their own toy laser guns. Dr. Evil wasn’t sure if they actually shot real lasers or not, but he didn’t want any accidents happening with his group of potential new sons around.
“Take them in the next room and give them some candy. Need to drop them at the firehouse soon. Honestly. Why did I say I would take care of these kids? I must be losing my touch. Now! Let’s see what evil you gentlemen have to offer.”
Three of the people were wearing masks. One of those masks was a hockey mask. Were people supposed to be afraid of a goalie? And the other had a mask of human skin, which was decidedly unsubtle, like he was trying too hard. The third had a simple burlap bag with holes for the eyes. Dr. Evil wasn’t sure what to make of that one. It was an odd choice. Not to mention, the guy was as tiny as a child.
Another villain had a burned face, and was eating a bucket of what looked like baby parts. His hands were tipped with blades. Very convenient. He seemed pragmatic, at least, even if the sweater was not the best decision.
The last in attendance was a twitchy office worker - balding, middle-aged, boat shoes with pulled up tube socks. Those socks and shoes made the burned man’s sweater look fashionable in comparison. The office worker was strange. By twitchy, Dr. Evil meant his whole body kept twitching in ways it shouldn’t, like rigor mortis. His lips were chapped. The eyes behind the horn-rimmed glasses were glazed and crusted. And when he’d open his mouth to let out the occasional unearthly groan, his teeth were yellowed, caked in brown.
“So, I want to discuss what I can provide each of you, as a member of my team. Pay no mind to Scottie, the jealous boy who is definitely not my son. Let’s go around the table and introduce ourselves.” Dr. Evil pointed to the man in the hockey mask. “Let’s start with you. We’ll go clockwise.”
Hockey Mask’s dark eye sockets turned on Dr. Evil. He raised a machete and held it up. Then silence. More silence. Still more silence.
“Okay, the Goalie, thank you for your ‘cooperation.’” Dr. Evil held up his hands for air quotes. “Let’s go to you then.” He gestured at the man in the human skin mask next to the Goalie. He wasn’t going to give these budding villains any advice if they weren’t going to cooperate.
Human Skin Mask rose and lifted his chainsaw. Oooh! Dramatic! He tipped back his head and revved it, then spun around. And around. And around. Where was the introduction? Or was he still building to it? No. He kept spinning.
“Do you even have control of that thing?” Dr. Evil asked. “Never mind. Moving on. Burlap Sack kid.”
The kid just giggled.
“Okay. I see you’re all ‘enthusiastic,’ and ‘talkative,’ which is making this meeting ‘productive.’” Dr. Evil should just turn his ray gun on them all. “How about you?” He gestured to the man with the burned face.
The burned man cackled and held up his hands, small limbs skewered on each “finger.” “I’m Freddie! I’m the man of everyone’s dreams!”
“Aha! The dream-walker! I see what you did there, and I approve! Man of everyone’s dreams!” Dr. Evil could hardly contain his glee. “And what are your plans? How far are you in your plot to take over the world?”
“My plans? To make sure no brat on Elm Street ever sleeps again!” Freddie cackled again.
“Okay…but what then? Listen, you could be destroying the lives of world leaders, owners of corporations!”
“They killed me for what I did. Now, I’m going to make them pay!” Freddie said, face contorting in a wicked smile.
“Yes! Pay! That’s it! With billions of dollars!”
“What? I meant with their children’s lives! Their very souls!” Freddie said, triggering Frau to do a bunch of ghost, lightning, and werewolf sounds.
“I…Frau…where is our lighting and sound crew?”
“They’re helping get Fat Bastard’s body in here,” Frau said. “So Virtucon can revive him. And they really didn’t have the right sounds for a Halloween party, and you seem to like mine.”
Dr. Evil sighed at the news about Fat Bastard, then patted Frau’s head, before turning back to Freddie. “And how are souls going to achieve our goals of world domination? Uh, spoiler, they aren’t! Just like that sweater isn’t helping you.” He jabbed a finger at the office guy. “You. In the glasses!”
The office worker’s lips peeled up in a wicked grin, far wider than they should, stretching the face grotesquely. Promising! This man would scare the poop out of anyone watching a threatening video sent to world leaders.
“Your mother’s here with us,” the office worker rasped in a malicious little voice. The head snapped, neck cracking, to face Dr. Evil. “She’s running on her little webbed feet and she’s waiting for you.” The voice changed suddenly to his mother’s recognizable chirp. “If you’re not a good boy, it’s the burlap sack again, Dougie.”
“Mummy!” Dr. Evil cried. “It’s been so long! But, you need to call me by my correct name. Dr. Evil.”
“You know, your scribe was one of my best clients,” Chloe said through the office worker’s body. “Have you even gotten my grandson a scribe?”
“Scottie is not a member of this family, but, Mummy, I’m here.” Dr. Evil got down on one knee next to the office worker.
“She’s gone now.” The malicious voice returned. “Chloe’s a whore in hell now!”
“Ah, I’m glad she’s still following up on her passions,” Dr. Evil said. “Now, as for your dreams, can you summon world leaders’ loved ones to coerce them to capitulate to our nefarious demands? Oh, and I don’t think I got your name.”
“It’s Pazuzu, Dad!” Scottie shouted unhelpfully. “Frau had to get a Ouija board and sacrifice a goat. Do you even thank that woman?”
“Shut it, Scottie!” Dr. Evil made the zipper motion across his lips.
“It’s Pazuzu. From the movie,” Frau said, helpful as always. “Where the little girl’s head spins and then the pea soup—“
“Ah! Yes!” Dr. Evil clapped his hands. “You! You’re my new son! A true hellspawn, as befits the son of Dr. Evil!”
“You’re picking Pazuzu over me! Some guy who calls himself Captain Howdy?” Scottie demanded. “Y-you’re just the worst! And your party sucks! You know it, too. You pretended you were having a party, but didn’t tell the people you were inviting they were competing to be your son. Because you know you suck. You hate yourself, and, I hate you! No one wants to be your son, because everyone hates you!” Scottie tore off in a fit of cliched and annoying rage.
Or he planned to, until he ran straight into the chest of Michael Myers, who’d been silently standing in the doorway in that unintimidating mask. How long had Michael been standing there listening?
“Yeah, Michael. He’s replaced us,” Scottie said. “No one, even a literal demon, is gonna live up to what he wants. Come on.
“And there’s a better party, an actual party. Austin Powers is hosting it. My so-called-dad wasn’t even around to throw me a party for me when I was five. I wanted a magician or a clown. I got nothing!” Scottie stomped his foot.
How unappreciative. Some of those evil dictators were heads in jars that Dr. Evil had preserved to tutor Scottie. Frau had even put colorful birthday hats atop the jars. That was not nothing.
Michael waved his hand, then tossed his knife right into the head of Pazuzu’s meat suit. The other villains rose to follow him out the door. And even Scottie was going with them?
“Son?” Dr. Evil shook the body. “Son! Nooooo!”
“He can come back, he just needs to find another body,” Frau soothed.
“Another son…t-turned against me.” Tears, evil tears, threatened. “And they’re all leaving my party.” And all those words Scottie had said, that most evil monologue that was directed at his dear old dad… The tears flowed down his pasty cheeks.
“Oh, please don’t cry. Your boys are jealous,” Frau soothed, wrapping him in a perfumed hug.
“It’s m-my party. I’ll cry if I wanna,” he blubbered. “Did you really sacrifice a goat?”
“Shhhh,” Frau said, rubbing his bald head. “Frau is here.”
“Do…do you hate me, Frau?” Dr. Evil sucked on his pinkie.
“Never! I know just what you need to set you right. We’re going to find that Dr. Loomis.”
* * * * *
Michael slowly stalked toward a teenage boy tossing a roll of toilet paper over the branches of a tree. The boy snickered deviously. Michael just needed another distraction after seeing the room of his replacements. And the guy in the goalie costume was so similar to Michael!
Michael stepped closer on his silent boots. When he walked like this, the leaves didn’t even crunch. He lined up the blade with the back of the boy’s neck.
“Hey, bro,” Scottie said from behind him. What the fuck? How the hell did Scottie sneak up on him?
The teenage boy turned around, saw the knife gleaming inches from his face, and screamed and screamed. Before he crumbled into dust.
Scottie tucked the ray gun into his belt. “Sorry you saw that back there.”
Scottie should be sorry for stealing his kill. What the hell? At least Dr. Evil let Michael commit the murders. Let? Michael could have easily killed both of them. Maybe not with those ray guns.
Am I making excuses? Why? What excuse do I need? Everything was always so simple! Just knife the people.
Maybe—
“I understand,” Scottie said. “You find out you have this dad, this guy who seems like he wants to be a father. And he tricks you into thinking it. But then, you find out it’s a lie. He wants another him. Not you at all. Nothing is ever right!” Scottie stomped his foot.
That was it. Michael just wanted to believe that someone believed in him. Someone who would be supportive, and accept him!
“I guess them’s the breaks, bro.”
And Scottie called him bro! That was why Michael stayed his knife. Scottie knew. Scottie understood.
Why kill Scottie when Dr. Evil had already shred them both to ribbons?
“Let’s check out Austin’s party,” Scottie decided. He cast a sidelong look over his shoulder. He felt safe enough to turn his back to Michael? Scottie’s eyes glowed intensely in the moonlight, lips showing even teeth.
Something clenched deep inside Michael, stopping his heavy breathing. Usually, his breath filled the whole mask, sometimes drowned out the screams of his victims. Michael’s heart always beat calm and steady through the murders, but now it stuttered. SKIPPED a beat. Then his mask was filled with the rush of blood in his ears. Why was it so hot? What was that stirring in his loins?
His gaze dropped downward, intending to examine his crotch, but there, clad in tight jeans, was Scottie’s ass. Displayed, beckoning, just like a throat or chest for penetration. But he didn’t want to penetrate it with a knife.
“You okay?” Scottie asked. “C’mon. We got this.” He smiled wider, and Michael teetered on his feet. Was Michael sick?
He took a hesitant step after Scottie. Never before had a single step been so weighty. He sensed he was crossing a threshold from which he could never step back. And for once, this was not the type of problem that could be solved with a weapon. What was he to do? He didn’t even quite understand the problem.
Maybe he needed to ground himself with one more kill before he went to this party.
Chapter Text
The teenage girl’s screams filled the otherwise silent park. She turned her head to look behind her, stumbling, but caught herself before she could fall. Still looking back, she slammed into another body. Apparently, a boy had been running right at her, also screaming and looking behind him. The two collided with a loud thud and collapsed on the soft grass.
Michael approached the girl with his usual slow walk. He stared down at her, breathing heavily, silent as always. Only to look up to find another figure slow-walking towards him.
The tall man with the hockey mask.
They both stood before their prey, staring at each other, Michael tilting his head slightly. It was almost like looking in a mirror. They obviously enjoyed murder. They obviously picked teens first. Neither spoke. Neither ran after their victims. And both liked to stab and slash.
The man in the hockey mask gave a shy wave and Michael waved back. Could this be a potential friend? Hockey Mask pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and gingerly handed it to Michael. It was an emblem ripped from a shirt. A canoe with the words Camp Crystal Lake embroidered beneath. Was this his way of telling him who he was? Giving an address, of sorts? He pocketed the cloth.
Michael nodded at him, bent down, and grabbed the girl by her hair. As he was dragging the crying teen away, he saw Hockey Mask return the nod before dragging his own victim away.
Had he just made a new friend?
It proved a good distraction from Scottie, who’d gone on ahead to scope out the party at the Strode household.
* * * * *
“My God! What a mess!” The sheriff cried. Loomis could only shake his head sadly. So far, they had found three dead teens, two thanks to an anonymous phone call. Who was next?
“I told you, it’s Michael. No one in this town is safe tonight. Not until we catch him.”
Sheriff Brackett wiped tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe this. What can we do to protect everyone? No one is even safe in their homes. It’s like people are lined up for a slaughterhouse.”
A few blocks away, a long line of American and British partygoers were waiting outside the Strode house to gain access to the wild shenanigans going strong inside. Many were dancing but some seemed impatient to get closer to the music, booze, and drugs.
“Hey, no cutting in line!” Someone from the back yelled.
Then yells of annoyance became screams of terror when a chainsaw roared and blood sprayed everywhere. Someone was cutting in line, indeed.
Meanwhile, Michael had managed to sneak inside, on the hunt for Laurie. Smoke wafted through the air from a couch visible between the dancers. A man with long blonde hair sat beside a man with dark hair and a black baseball cap.
“Hey, Captain Kirk,” the man with the black cap said. “I’m Michael Myers.”
“Dude, everyone’s Michael Myers,” the blonde said. “Probably even that guy.” He jabbed a finger at an individual in a cat costume, with a large, red and white top hat.
Michael suppressed a shudder. There was something sinister in the being’s jaunty walk, as if it hid some misery and malice. He backed quietly out of the busy room, before the people on the couch or that cat thing said they were his father.
He had to find Laurie, and now, plagued by an unshakeable uncertainty, he suspected he might be vulnerable surrounded by so many. Someone might be able to hurt him.
Scottie’s smile appeared in his brain, and his chest tightened. He ducked into the shadows of a stairwell, bumping into a couple with their arms around each other. He was about to slam a knife between the two, when the friendly goalie skewered them both on his machete, pinning their corpses to the wall. The man was still inside the woman. Why was Michael staring at their groins?
An image of tight blue jeans clinging to the most pert ass he’d ever seen bubbled unbidden to his thoughts.
The goalie gave him a grunt, and Michael nodded his thanks. What a helpful guy, allowing Michael some solitude to contemplate. Or plan another murder.
He needed to stop this useless introspection. It would get him nowhere—
“Would you all stop trying to harass this guy?” came Scottie’s voice.
“Dude, what’re you talking about?” came the blonde man’s voice, cutting through the music.
“Pretty obvious my dad has you all trying to harass Michael. Everyone here is using that name.”
“Dude, did Garth just turn to dust?”
Scottie just…lasered someone? For Michael?
Michael pounded up the stairs. He had to get away from Scottie!
*****
The foolish liar who’d disrupted and rearranged the plans of the world’s most evil supervillain stood on a corner engaged in animated discussion with Sheriff Beckett. Dr. Evil’s nemesis was an unassuming man with a nearly-bald head, salt-and-pepper goatee, glasses, and a khaki trench coat. Like he was some detective.
Beckett and Loomis stopped to stare as Big Boy landed in the middle of the intersection. Beckett raised his gun.
Frau stepped down from the ramp first. Then the lighting and sound crew. Dr. Evil wanted this to be as dramatic as possible.
“Hands in the air!” Brackett shouted.
“Really, that’s what you’re going to do?” Dr. Evil called from the safety of Big Boy. “Frau, a demonstration, if you would.”
At the sound of a laser zapping, Dr. Evil strode proudly and slowly down the stairs as refined instrumental music played with just a hint of menace.
He placed his pinky against the corner of his smiling lips as he saw Brackett and Loomis staring in disbelief at the pile of ash where a tree had once stood. “Yes, so, no more of your threats interrupting our meeting. In fact, Sheriff Brackett, you’re not needed. My business is with—“
“Brackett!” Loomis shouted as Brackett pounded down the sidewalk towards the Strode house party, the opposite direction of Loomis.
“You are not Michael Myers,” Loomis said. “Why did you come here? Why did you free the inmates from the asylum?”
Dr. Evil locked eyes with him and strode forward, prepared to deliver a mighty blow - straight to Dr. Loomis’s heart. But he decided to savor the moment, do the blow in slow motion. With a monologue. A proper monologue, now that his crew was with him.
“Ah, my fellow doctor, you see, I am none other than…” Sound and lightning chimed in with the desired effects. “DR. EVIL!” His minions adopted dramatic poses behind him, Frau pointing her ray gun into the stars.
“Now, in spite of my name, I am a father seeking a son,” Dr. Evil continued. “A protege, an heir to my terrible throne!” He waited on his effects team to finish up before speaking further. “And I sought the annals of history for a worthy successor, someone successful enough, genius enough, but able to be molded, and someone truly, truly evil.”
“And…you, y-you came here for Michael. I’m sorry, but did you say annals of history?”
“Have you not seen the lasers? We have frickin’ laser guns! We are obviously not from your time. And we’re not little and green, so we’re not from outer space either!”
“Wait…Dr. Evil. In a Big Boy! I remember now. The old headlines from a British newspaper.”
“Very good, Doctor.” Dr. Evil gave a sarcastic clap. “How did I decide upon Michael out of everyone? I distinctly remember reading ‘When I look into his eyes, I see nothing but a void. There is no soul there.’”
Dr. Loomis’s mouth worked without words, until, after a span of time long enough to be uncomfortable and have Dr. Evil questioning whether or not he should finish the quote, he finally rasped, “‘Only the purest evil.’”
“Yes, from your book about Michael Myers, titled, oh, what was it?” Dr. Evil tapped his cheek, sassily eyeing Loomis. “I can’t remember the title and why exactly it appealed to me, an evil supervillain, trying to find his perfect evil genius son.”
“Ooh! I know!” Frau shouted. “Because you were soooo happy when you found it. The title is True Evil Genius - My Sessions with the Embodiment of Pure Evil.”
“I…oh. Oh dear.” Dr. Loomis backed away.
“Yes, now you have it right.” Dr. Evil stepped forward and patted Dr. Loomis’s head. “The reason for all this is…you.”
“No, no! I admit that Michael is pure evil, but I never expected that you would do such a thing! Breaking him out to try and adopt him? That’s madness! The man cannot see reason. You can hardly call him a man. Of all people to choose…” Loomis wiped sweat from his brow.
“Yes, well, it was disappointing to find him so, hmm, unwelcoming is I guess the right word. He didn’t warm up to a like mind as I expected. Disappointing, yes, quite. You went on about him so much that I expected so much more. His motivations are unclear. He has drive to kill but nothing else. Such a sad waste of evil genius.”
“He’s a complete waste of a human being! A true monster!” Loomis was getting worked up again.
“I guess we are in agreement there,” Dr. Evil said. Seeing the pathetic man before him agreeing with him made the idea of killing him feel far less fun than he had previously imagined. Loomis was just a sad old man who was obsessed with Michael. Well, Dr. Evil had far better things to do than being obsessed with his unworthy son. No, not his son! Michael was not his son.
Scottie was his son. Sure, he had not been around to raise him since he was cryogenically frozen at the time. Sure, he was merely a test tube baby, created through Dr. Evil’s preserved sperm. Sure, he had no sense of fashion with his chains and sagging pants. Not to mention, he was mouthy and went out of his way to steal his old man’s thunder. But wasn’t that just what a true evil genius did? Acting out against one’s father was pretty normal, right? Was Scottie actually as evil as he had hoped? Were the roots there? Did he just need a push?
Where was Scottie, actually?
“Frau, drop those kids off at the fire department. We have evil things to do. In the future!”
Chapter Text
Michael finally found her. His little sister. Though she wasn’t so little anymore. Laurie was asleep in her bedroom, apparently so exhausted she had dropped into dreamland despite the loud music and laughter from downstairs. He hovered for a moment, staring at her. It was finally time. He raised his knife, still stained from the blood of his previous victims of this long night.
Before he could lunge, the wall above the bed began to warp. It was as if the solid wall had become soft, the white paint not even chipping as something pushed through. A face? Somehow, a face and two hands were pushing through the wall like it was only a thin layer of skin. With a tearing sound, the burn victim from Dr. Evil’s ‘party’ ripped through. He was still wearing that ridiculous hat. He even had the knives on one hand. Those grotesque lips sneered at Michael.
"Back off, Trekkie! This bitch is mine!"
* * * * *
“Come on, Austin! I mean, Michael!” The blonde haired woman giggled as she pulled Austin up the stairs.
“Coming, baby. Or at least, I will be!”
They laughed as they stumbled across the upstairs hall. They tried a door, only to find a bathroom. Another door was the master bedroom. Luckily, it was unoccupied. The blonde, Shelly, slammed Austin against the inside of the door and began kissing him.
“Slow down, baby. We have time. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I go, freshen up.” Austin gave a mischievous wink before leaving the room.
He did a few dance steps and hummed along to the music as he walked across the hall to the bathroom. Only seconds after the door was closed did Michael Myers appear in the doorway to Laurie’s room. He walked heavily across the floorboards, slow-walking his way right to the master bedroom. Opening the door, he found Shelly sprawled out across the bed. She was already topless.
“Oh! I was waiting for Austin. I suppose you’ll do for now. I doubt he will mind.” She gave him a saucy smile.
Michael said nothing, but approached the bed. He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to his height.
“Whoa! That’s too rough for my taste, doll!” Shelly cried.
Before she could protest further, Michael drove his knife into her chest. She had no time to scream, but only gurgled as blood pooled on the bed below. Another stab and blood was oozing from her mouth. She died quickly, much to Michael’s dismay. He dropped her body and left the room, heading back to Laurie.
Moments later, Austin, still humming to himself, entered the master bedroom, his own hairy chest on full display. He twirled a bit before approaching the bed. “What do you think, ba–oh my God!”
He rushed to Shelly’s side, lifting her dead body into his lap. Horrified, he stared into the distance, as if speaking to a camera. “No, she was so young! So beautiful! Such a nice rack! This was not the sort of penetration I had in mind for this evening!” He couldn’t help a sneaky smirk before his expression changed once again to horror. He rushed from the room, racing downstairs to find the perpetrator.
* * * * *
“I’m frickin tired of Halloween and this frickin decade! It’s time to go back home. Let’s go back to the 90s,” Dr. Evil whined.
“Virtucon needs at least several days to ready our transport,” Frau said.
Right. This was Virtucon of the past, who probably didn’t have much of a grip on the advanced tech of the 90’s.
“But I want to go back to the future nowwww,” Dr. Evil whined. Surely the travails and earth-shattering disappointments of the last few days warranted a little bit of pouting. And, as if to add insult to injury, everyone had ditched his party for Austin’s.
Frau extended a hand to pat him and console him just as tires whisked over the road, slowing.
He turned around, right along with Frau as an engine hummed behind them. A Delorean sat on the quiet road. Some idiot from Austin’s party?
A mad scientist stepped out. He had all the hallmarks of a mad scientist - white hair standing on end, probably the result of electrocuting himself several times; wild eyes, hungry for knowledge, that quivered in the socket; a lean frame, sculpted from countless nights with no sleep in the name of discovery - and most importantly, a white lab coat. What respectable mad scientist would eschew the requisite white lab coat?
Dr. Evil planted his pinkie in the corner of his mouth and looked over this crazed genius, who was now firmly at his disposal.
“Did you say, ‘back to the future?’” The devotee of discovery had a husky voice and quick, loud speech, as if he wanted to be heard and say everything as quickly as possible to allow himself more time on his endless quest to expand humanity’s knowledge.
“I did,” Dr. Evil said. “I need to return to 1998.”
“1998! Great Scott!”
This was no genius at all. This was no scientist! “You…you showed up here to tell me my test tube son, Scottie is great? That’s the real reason, isn’t it? How much did Scottie pay you?”
“Wait, what? I don’t have time for this. Actually, I have time, since all of time is at my disposal, but I have better things to do.”The fraud backed away and slid into his vehicle, before quickly driving off. As the car picked up speed, there was a flash and the Delorean disappeared.
So, wait, that asshole could’ve gotten him back to the 1990’s?
The car suddenly reappeared, traveled backward, and predictably stopped in front of the Strode residence.
* * * * *
Michael crept back into the room where Laurie thrashed in her sleep. She cried out as the dream killer, that ugly guy named Freddie if he recalled correctly, was tormenting her as she slumbered.
Michael might have backed off initially from sheer shock at seeing the psycho emerge from a wall, but he was over it. Laurie was his. She was the reason he had come all this way. The last of his family must die and it would be by Michael's hands, no other's!
He raised his knife, intending to end it in one blow. Unfortunately, Laurie was really rolling around on the bed. It was almost as if she was being forcibly moved around. When he brought his knife down, it pierced her shoulder instead of her chest.
Laurie woke up with a shriek. She took one look at Michael hovering over her and bolted from the room. Michael had stuck out an arm, intending to clothesline her before she could make a swift exit, but he was stopped. As Laurie went tearing across the hallway and down the stairs, her screams loud enough to actually be heard over the thumping music, burnt fingers enclosed Michael's arm.
"You let her get away, you asshole!" Freddie cried in his guttural voice.
Michael reacted quickly, spinning to skewer Freddie’s wrist with his butcher knife. But, the man moved as fast as he talked, easily dodging.
“Came here to sulk?” Freddie taunted. His face changed, becoming pale and smooth. He placed a finger in the corner of his lips. “You shouldn’t have disappointed daddy.”
Chapter Text
“Oh, fuck you, Freddie! I’m a better Freddie than you!” A voice shouted.
Michael backed into the wall as his head spun. In the doorway stood Scottie, his face a mask of grim intensity, eyes burning as he glared at the surrogate Dr. Evil. He wore a white tank top, a fake black mustache, and faded blue jeans. Said jeans and tank top were tight on his slim figure. Was this a costume? Who was he supposed to be?
“And now, now my two disappointing sons are here…” Freddie cackled in Dr. Evil’s voice.
“Dude, Michael was his son for like…a day,” Scottie protested, alleviating some of Michael’s worry. He hadn’t even realized he’d been worried that Scottie might think of him as a brother.
Scottie shook his head. “Still, that’s fucked up. Showing up, looking like my dad. I don’t have time for his monologuing bullshit or yours. I have a frickin’ laser gun, Dad.”
Scottie pulled the trigger, sending a deadly red beam straight at Freddie. Time passed at a creep as the weight of the moment descended upon Michael’s broad shoulders. Scottie was ready to kill…for Michael? But hadn’t he earlier? Scottie hadn’t really been trying to steal Michael’s kill. He’d been trying to help him. Something no one had ever really done.
Michael wanted to tear off his mask. It was hot and stifling. His face burned. Would Scottie hate the sight of his face? Did it matter?
Yes! Suddenly it did. It all mattered.
He mattered. To Scottie. Scottie had never been trying to establish his superiority with a laser gun, or beat Michael to the punch. Scottie simply had a different style - quick, efficient, and cold. Scottie didn’t savor anyone’s screams, or relish their hot lifeblood as it stained his clothes, or acquire bruises from his victims’ final struggles.
No. One moment, Scottie’s victims breathed. The next, they were ash. Almost too quick a death to seem fully realized. Michael’s moments with his victims were personal, deeply intimate. And raw. The way his knife turned in their flesh, the screams that turned to pleading.
Did Scottie have intimacy issues? How much trauma was Scottie carrying on his shoulders? Maybe his quick and brutal methods weren’t just his preferred way, but his own way of taking power from his father? Dr. Evil liked to draw out a death, for the most part. Michael had heard what he’d said while Michael had strangled that brunette in her car. Dr. Evil wanted a show, a spectacle.
Scottie would just make an inconvenience dead.
Did Michael himself have intimacy issues? The closest he ever was to another sentient being was when he was murdering them. But Scottie didn’t even have that.
Could…could Michael be the one to—
To what? I am not killing Scottie. That isn’t what I want.
But I want him to scream. I want him to writhe. I want—
Scottie’s denim-clad ass was suddenly inches from Michael’s face. Wiggling. Freddie held him by the leg, doing an evil laugh that Dr. Evil probably would have heartily approved. “Hah! I’m not gonna let you burn me again. I’m just pullin’ your leg. Right off!”
Michael tried to will his body to move, to help Scottie. But the ass. Right there. Bouncing. In those tight jeans.
The next moments happened so quickly, Michael had no time to process them or give them the consideration they deserved. Michael preferred life to be slow and methodical, so he could appreciate every second.
He’d later look back on these meaningful seconds, and regret not being able to appreciate them outside of memories. Memories could be hazy, none of the tactile sensations.
Freddie’s arm fell, no longer attached to his body. A machete pinned it into the mattress. Scottie fell, headfirst. Michael didn’t think, and he didn’t stab. He just…caught him.
Scottie, soft, warm, like so many of Michael’s victims had been. A few notes of spice-scented cologne wafted into Michael’s mask. Michael’s hands gripped tightly around Scottie’s ribs. Beneath the soft button down, patterned with black and yellow geometric shapes, he was firm. Solid.
And in Michael’s hands. Ass in the air.
Scottie rolled away and onto his feet, catlike and purposeful in his movements. His ray gun was already raised, as the goalie guy, who had appeared to assist, raised his machete again.
“Teaming up against me? When there’s a human right here?” Freddie tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. “And, you, Jason, you need to go back to Crystal Lake and be forgotten. Don’t forget, I’m the one who brought you ba—“
Scottie lasered Freddie, who turned into a pile of ash that receded back into the wall somehow. It didn’t make fucking sense. None of this made any sense.
“Asshole talks too much,” Scottie said, as Jason stepped aside for him. “I guess ‘We Are The Champions’ here, am I right?”
Michael had no idea what Scottie was referencing, but at least Jason seemed to understand Scottie needed to live. Or maybe he needed to die. It was all so confusing.
Instead of leaving, Scottie sat on the bed. His fake mustache was barely hanging on so he ripped it off and stuffed it in his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh as he packed a pipe. Apparently, there was some kind of spray coloring in his hair that made it black because his hand came away looking filthy and grimy. “Want some?” He offered Michael and Jason.
Michael just ran. He always slow walked. But right now, he needed to run. Did he need to murder Scottie? Scottie with the laser gun and jeans that were tight on his ass. Scottie, who just seemed to get Michael.
Even at the opposite end of the hall, the scent of the young man’s spicy cologne lingered in his mask. Cinnamon. Was it cologne, or some seasonal treat that had tempted Scottie?
Why did I run? I don’t understand. I know I want to be close to him, share something deep. But, if I twist a knife into his eye socket or choke him until the breath leaves his lungs, I won’t see him again. We’d share the most meaningful moments together, but then they’d be memories. Dull and lined up alongside so many others. Do I want Scottie’s last seconds to no longer be fresh, to be overshadowed by more recent kills?
Do I kill him and never kill again?
What would I even do? Nothing outside of those moments seems real.
Jason exited the bedroom in a cloud of smoke, followed by a “Later” from Scottie, that assured Michael he was very much alive. And he might be walking out of there soon.
What I need to do is get out of here, before Scottie sees me standing here.
Fuck!
He dashed into the nearest bedroom, to see a brown-haired man with glasses adjusting a blue velvet jacket and admiring himself as he spoke on a telephone. He turned left and right in front of the mirror, then to face Michael.
“Oh! Oh my….” The man’s gaze raked him up and down from behind the clean lenses of his glasses. “Yes, come quickly, but, um, I have to go.”
He hung up the phone and stared. “You’re a tall one, aren’t you?” He scrunched up his nose in a grin.
This guy was happy to see him? What?
Michael was going to stab the guy. That would probably be a great way to get some clarity. Unless Scottie showed up with a laser gun again.
“Not a very good mask though, and you’ve got a lovely body,” the stranger remarked. There was something about the way he moved his hips that sent Michael’s brain - and cock - to strange places. Like the vision of denim framing Scottie’s curves. And the urges Michael didn’t understand.
“Do I make you horny, baby?” the man asked, as if Michael didn’t have enough on his mind.
Horny? What all those couples had called it, when they’d lain atop each other and…
Is that what this man’s hips are making me think? His devious smile?
Scottie? Is that it? Is that what’s going on?
I’ve never done that. How am I supposed to do anything about Scottie? With Scottie?
This man in front of me is still sizing me up. Expecting an answer. Maybe, I can learn something from him without appearing inept.
“Yes,” Michael answered, speaking for the first time. His voice came out soft, purposeful, much like his footsteps. But it was confident, powerful.
Chapter Text
“I’m so frickin’ depressed. How am I supposed to get back to the nineties now?” Dr. Evil whined again as he stroked Mr. Bigglesworth. He was pacing outside of a Seven Eleven downtown. Frau had parked the Big Boy there so she could run in and steal some comfort snacks for him. He was impatiently waiting for his slushie.
As Dr. Evil moped and stroked, a bright light flashed and lightning bolts emerged from the ground in the nearly-empty parking lot. As he watched, fascinated, a telephone booth seemed to rise up out of the ground. What in the world was happening now?
The door to the telephone booth slid open and two teens popped out.
“Whoa, like where are we? I don’t remember picking a Seven Eleven?” The tall boy with long black hair said.
“Dude, what year are we even in?” The shorter blonde boy asked.
“1978,” Dr. Evil said, striding toward them. “Halloween night.” He noted their 80’s garments.
“Bogus! Are we gonna run into us again?” the blonde asked.
Obviously time travelers. Although, they weren’t the mad scientist types like Doc Brown. They didn’t look wealthy or smart enough to afford the technology. Yet, one could’ve said the same about Scottie. No, Scottie was smart, just not smart enough to see all the poor choices he’d made. So, had these boys stolen some tech?
“You’re time travelers,” Dr. Evil said, deciding it didn’t matter how they came to possess the phone booth.
“Who’s the bald guy?” the brown-haired boy whispered.
“Whoa! I think I remember something about him. Isn’t he the guy on the cleaner bottles?” his blonde compatriot asked.
Dr. Evil raised his laser gun, about to end this foolishness, when Frau stepped in with a big smile.
“And why don’t you two introduce yourselves?” she chirped. “I am Frau, and this is Dr. Evil.”
The two boys looked at each other with bulging eyes.
“Dude…” the blonde whispered.
“Wasn’t this the guy who—“
“Yes, yes, all those things,” Dr. Evil snapped impatiently, cutting off the boy with the shaggy brown hair.
“And you are?” Frau prompted.
Dr. Evil decided these two had definitely stolen the phone booth. There is no way any evil genius, or any at all, would’ve given time travel to these two.
“I am Bill S. Preston!” the blonde said.
“And I am Ted Theodore Logan.”
Together, they chorused, “And we are Wyld Stallyns!” They both bowed their heads and strummed a wild air guitar. And somehow, that air guitar made music.
Joe - or was it Stan? - walked out with a box, where the sound came from. “Hey,” said the sound effects tech, casually strolling up to Frau and Dr. Evil.
“Thanks, my dude!” Ted gave the tech a thumbs up.
“We need to get to the 90’s,” Dr. Evil said. “Can you do that?”
* * * * *
“Oh ho, well aren’t you just a horny devil?” Austin lay shirtless on his side, against a pile of pillows. His hairy chest was exposed above the sweaty blanket. “Not one for pillow talk, after all that moaning and growling?” He gave a dirty laugh.
Could this man go another round? Michael had always considered himself possessed of superhuman stamina, but Austin was like some kind of sex deity made flesh.
Flesh Michael had penetrated, twisted himself inside, felt the man’s lubricated hole clinging to him, screaming, digging his nails into Michael’s shoulders, as if pleading for mercy. But Austin always wanted more. It was a more personal experience than Michael had had with a blade. He couldn’t feel his victim’s insides then. The experience wasn’t as shared, committed only to Michael’s memory in the end. And even then, he forgot. But here, Austin had desired him, wanted to be impaled. He’d taken whatever Michael wanted to give him. Even now, he still wasn’t satisfied.
Michael felt that stirring between his legs, but he was still tired. He’d managed to climax quietly, with growls and grunts behind the mask, barely audible as he’d pumped into the vocal Austin.
Michael understood now the pleasure those teens had, why they fled into the night to couple together. Yet, Austin was wildly experienced, had patiently guided Michael, explaining matters like the necessity of lube.
“I don’t speak if I have nothing to say,” Michael said, pushing a sweaty curl from Austin’s brow.
“So, this was all you needed?” Austin asked with a chuckle. “A good shag?”
Michael nodded. He’d learned something new tonight, discovered something about himself.
“Or, are you going to massacre the party?” Austin continued. “They’ve mostly left, except for Laurie, who went to stay elsewhere. You and I were, uh, very vocal.”
Austin was vocal. Yet the grunts and gasps from Michael were vocal for him.
It wasn’t like Michael wanted to shag anyone. No. He’d do Austin again. But this is assuredly what he’d wanted with Scottie. Would Scottie be as cold as when he disintegrated someone with a laser? Or would he cry out and writhe like Austin?
“Scottie? Scottie Evil?” Austin raised his brows. “You did say his name.”
Michael nodded again, face turning hot in his already sweaty mask. Scottie would get his face. Scottie would have the raw intimacy of his expressions.
Austin frowned. “You do know Scottie is from the late 90’s. So, he hasn’t been born yet in your time.”
Michael had heard Dr. Evil and Frau speaking of their time travel. He knew this already, but only now did he think of the ramifications. If the Evils went back, there would no longer be a Scottie, not for years.
He swore then he’d find Scottie. By then, he’d have expunged every murderous desire in his body, and he’d be ready for Scottie, ready to gently remove the laser gun from his fingers and penetrate him slow and deep. Until that time, he’d hold Scottie in the back of his mind. Would his face fade from his memory?
“A picture,” Michael said. “Of Scottie.”
“Ah, I can get you one,” Austin promised. “Several even. We have them in our files. But, what are you going to do? There are plenty of fish in the Hedonfield Sea.”
“Only Scottie,” Michael growled. “And I will wait.”
Chapter 18: Epilogue
Chapter Text
Dr. Evil spread out his arms to welcome the world he knew - the glorious 1990’s. This could have been Michael’s future. Instead, Michael was an oafish disappointment, condemned to remain in the past, a vessel full of unrealized potential.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted,” Frau said. “But you still have Sco—“
“Frau.” Dr. Evil turned a wicked smirk on her. “I never had Scottie. And Scottie, and anyone else will always fall short. What I need is a son who can live up to my potential. A son exactly like this dear old dad!”
* * * * *
Scottie frowned as he gazed at his computer screen. Michael was institutionalized again. The guy was definitely a good listener, never interrupted and monologued at him - just a solid presence, determined, much like Scottie, to do his own thing in the face of Dr. Evil’s badgering.
Do I get him out?
They’d known each other briefly, but Scottie sensed Michael understood him. Michael had even rescued him from Freddie, without having anything to gain from it.
At least his dad was inconvenienced. Fat Bastard was spewing up green, mixed with chunks of flesh, and trying to escape Dr. Evil. Even now, Dr. Evil was trying to find an exorcist. Pazuzu had grown tired of Dr. Evil’s requests to speak with his mom.
* * * * *
Michael turned over the postcard in his hands. He got one of these every year. It had only his address at the institution, and some water damage on the edges. The postcard depicted a scenic view of Camp Crystal Lake, the dark, still water nestled among the silent trees that had borne witness to so many deaths.
Each year a postcard came on October 19th, Michael’s birthday. Another would come a week before Christmas, and was shortly followed up with the gift of a warm sweater. Of course, he knew the sender was Jason.
So many times, authorities had gone to the camp, seeking the sender of Michael’s gifts. The authorities suspected the gifts came from the perpetrator of the grisly killings. Yet, they’d found nothing, and eventually stopped looking. The sweaters allayed their fears - each one a gaudy Christmas affair. Several even had lights and played music.
Even as the years had rolled by, Michael’s body remained strong. He let his face show his first wrinkles and hairline recede. Another mask to better hide.
He’d thought to fight his way out numerous times, but the institution allowed him books. He’d busied himself with world history and read the newspaper every day. No one thought much of it, and no one noticed he’d hold the ones featuring Dr. Evil and Scottie a little longer.
Austin had tried to deliver on the photos of Scottie, but Michael had shook his head. He didn’t want anyone here to know of his true feelings.
“Another gift for that guy?” one of the nurses scoffed outside the door to Michael’s room.
“Yeah, he’s popular this time of year,” said another.
The little slot on his door was filled with the silhouette of something before it slid inside. Michael rose to inspect it. It was an innocuous plastic plate shaped like a pumpkin and filled with ghost-shaped cookies with icing grins. A black card rested on the top. In orange script were the words: “Happy Birthday, Michael! - Love, Frau. P.S. I know this is late, but we’ve had to perform an exorcism.”
Michael turned his head from the window to smile. Frau had always been lovely to him, welcoming him with warm acceptance. It had only been days for Frau. So, Michael shouldn’t be surprised.
Would Scottie try to reach out to him, too? He crushed the hope in his chest. Scottie wanted to distance himself from his father and his evil acts, according to a tell-all interview published just yesterday in response to the time travel trials .
But Scottie hadn’t judged Michael, and it wasn’t like Scottie hadn’t murdered either.
Michael had combed and combed the interview for any mention of himself. But, there had been nothing. Every answer had expounded upon Dr. Evil’s unfitness to be a father.
Had Scottie forgotten already?
For now, Michael would return to planning and plotting. He still had a score to settle with Laurie Strode. Once that was over, he’d be free.
DarkChronicles on Chapter 1 Mon 18 Sep 2023 06:47AM UTC
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Naturechild02 on Chapter 1 Thu 05 Oct 2023 01:26AM UTC
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Naturechild02 on Chapter 5 Mon 16 Oct 2023 05:15PM UTC
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Lokk (Guest) on Chapter 18 Sun 19 Nov 2023 03:34AM UTC
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