"So this is where you store your personal files, eh? Very well, father, I commend you on your creativity and effort, but it was only a matter of time before I discovered it. Surely, you knew that, but you made the subtle effort to shroud it from my view. I can deduce that you intended for me to find it, and only me. Nevertheless, let's dive in and see what you have hidden inside your stash."
Curious to see what his absent father had in store for his eyes alone, Billy held up the beige envelopes that each had Confidential written on the top with different-colored markers as well as the names of different individuals, presumably patients, like Madison Meier, a murderous pyromaniac, to Silas Kleveteer, the self-proclaimed reincarnated Messiah. Others had uncanny designations like the long-lost prince from the kingdom of Borgnine (he was sure that wasn't a real kingdom the last time he checked a map) or a diplomat on his way to Japan from Taured (wherever the hell that is).
You really must have dealt with some extreme oddballs, to say the least. Though none will amount to the one that made your career. Where is his file?
"Ah-hah! Jackpot!"
Sitting back on the velvety armchair in his father's study, Billy pulled out the file that he desired close to his face. In large red letters, the file read Michael Audrey Myers. Eager to break into and analyze this important piece of information from his father's past, the young British student opened up the file and froze. The first thing that greeted his toffee-colored eyes was the blank face of a six year old boy with sandy brown hair and a vacant expression. What made his blood run cold like an Illinois winter were the eyes of the kid.
Blimey! I can now see why people make up fables about this lad. His eyes look like they belong to a demon. It is like he is evil incarnate as my pops puts in in his records. Though I wonder why he is so fixated on Michael. Is it due to his curiosity of what drives the flesh and blood form of the Boogeyman? That kind of thinking is contagious.
Searching his father's antique drawers for the supplemental material, he recalled when the house was dusty and had that abandoned look with cobwebs appearing on every corner of the wooden enclosure. If the psych student hadn't spend at least a couple hours or so giving the place a sweep or polish, it would have looked like the Myers home and that wouldn't have been a sight to greet one that uses the home as their sleeping quarters.
Alrighty! It's time to get comfortable. I have a long day of analyzing ahead of me. Let's take a look at your research, father, and see if you made a breakthrough on Mikey's condition. This should be interesting.
Popping the tape inside the worn out and ancient-looking player, Billy sat back, put the headphones in his ears, and prepared to dive into his work.
---
So this is the infamous Myers residence? It's a pity that it has been abandoned for so long. It must have been decades since this place had been inhabited. This fine piece of establishment serves a better purpose than a landmark. I'm surprised no other real estate agent or realtor thought of utilizing the Myers house. Oh, to hell with them! This will be my ticket to big bucks and mine alone.
Mulling over all the things she could buy with the money she'd make by selling this period piece such as a boat or a new SUV, realtor Mary Lintner stepped out of her metallic blue Mercedes-Benz R63 AMG. Brushing a strand of her smooth long dark behind her ear, the tenacious land broker viewed the abandoned property that was marked by a sign from her firm that read Colony Homes in large black letters over a white background. What stood out to her about the sign's beauty was the picture of her smiling face plastered upon the bottom half.
Now that's what I call eye candy. No one but me deserves to sell this relic. As if I wasn't already the best in the business, this will only enhance my image. If this doesn't get my colleagues to respect me for my aptitude, I don't know what will.
Her stilettos clicking on the pavement, Mary Lintner made her way toward the steps of the 'haunted' house. She had heard the stories of the Boogeyman lurking inside to catch the locals should they dare enter, but she wasn't dumb enough to believe urban legends. In fact, she used to her advantage to attract some buyers that were due to arrive the next day. She had only arrived at this site to tidy it up and make it presentable to the eager buyers.
This could be my biggest break in my career. Nobody back at the firm will only see me as that irritable narcissist and know that I am the best in the business.
Straightening her skirt and blouse, the ambitious realtor intended to make good on her opportunity to sell this unsellable home and garner some intractable prominence in her name as she opened the dusky door to the Myers house and entered. Her echoing footsteps the only sound in the otherwise silent and dreary home, Mary's mind began to ponder all the possibilities of how to put her newfound money to good use while she started to clear the tables, counters, and walls of dust had accumulated there over the years.
Gerald and the kids will now look to me for money. Erik will have to show me some respect and the others will treat me like a goddess. I will become more successful than they could ever be in a lifetime. That vacation in the Bahamas will come sooner than Gerald would know."
As she wiped the once magnificent wooden kitchen top, a bump from the floor above caught her attention. Startled, Mary glanced up at the blue-gray ceiling before shaking her head. It must have been some loose furniture or household appliance falling. As she focused on making her estate look presentable to her clients, she thought she heard more footsteps and walking past her head. Sure enough, the cunning realtor knew she wasn't imagining the noises. Someone had to be skulking about upstairs like an oversized cat.
Walking toward the steps, she called out to the trespasser.
"Hello, anyone up there?"
For a full minute, she waited and once she didn't hear a response or further racket, she went back to what she was doing.
"Perhaps I need to limit the champagne at the parties," she muttered as she wet another rag. Once she finished with her task, Mary turned to toss it when she saw a sight that made her freeze up like a statue. Staring back at her was a large man with square shoulders, dressed in what appeared to be blue mechanic coveralls. What disturbed her was not only the man's immense size, but those vacant eyes on that grizzled face.
Who the hell is he? Some kind of vagrant using the house for shelter?
"Who are you? What do you want?"
The man only stared at her, his eyes unblinking, breathing heavily for a full minute. Then he took a step forward. In her panic, the realtor tried to take a step back, but stumbled a bit. Before she knew it, the bear of a man was over her. Breathing heavily and reeking of a nasty scent, the intruder reached down and wrapped his fingers around the petrified lady's neck as he hoisted her up in the air. To her horror, his free hand pulled a kitchen knife free from the countertop block. Processing what the colossal vagrant had planned for her, Mary started to struggle violently though it would prove fruitless in the end.
"No...no....NO!"
---
"I met him, fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child, with this blank, pale, emotionless face and, the blackest eyes- the devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply. 'evil'."
As he listened to his father's recording, Billy also looked through the Myers file as well in order to discern as much background on the elder Loomis's research on Haddonfield's Boogeyman. Perhaps there was something here that was the key to unlocking the secret behind Michael's motivation for terrorizing the inhabitants of a small Illinois town.
Maybe I'll find something I don't know.
Reading on through the papers in the file, he noticed a picture of a fair-skinned girl with matching hair smiling at him while the picture beside it showed her lying as limp as a ragdoll on a bloody carpet. The inscription below read Judith Myers Butchered By Her Younger Brother On Halloween Night while above the photograph, it wrote Motive Still Unclear To This Day. Biting his lip, Billy flipped the file over and perused it for all its details that could help him understand Michael Myers or what drove him to commit heinous murders and terrorize Haddonfield so he could be the one to finish what his father started and rid this quiet sleepy town of its boogeyman.
I must admit, Judith was one fine lass. Too bad she was dead before my time. Anyhow, it sucks that she was killed at the tender age of 15 right after she snogged her man rather than keep an eye on the little bugger. Maybe this could have been avoided if someone supervised Mikey in the first place. That brings us to the question as to why he'd commit this heinous deed. Let's find out.
Perched on his bed with wood-colored bedding, skimming through the rest of Michael's files to try to discern the question that journalists, investigators, and even psychiatrists, especially his sire, failed to ascertain, William Loomis stopped once he came upon the picture of his father standing with a tall, dark-haired woman with piercing azure eyes that looked to be half-Asian. Assuming her to be one of his colleagues, he read on to see if he could learn anything about this woman and how she is connected with the Myers case.
Hmm, what do we have here? Dr. Jennifer Hill, huh? Child psychologist at Smith's Grove. Was the only one who concurred with my father's statement that Michael should have been locked in juvy rather than the nut house. Typical love story where two people who share the same ideals and are practically echo chambers get engaged, only-holy moly, what happened there?
Billy's eyes grew wide as his eyes fell upon a photo of the broken body of Dr. Hill. Her death was ruled as a suicide, but a note scribbled by Dr. Loomis himself on the side indicated that he knew otherwise. He didn't theorize that Young Michael pushed her off the roof of the sanitorium, he knew it was true.
"Cripes! No wonder he was so deadset on Myers that it occupied most of his mind, routine, and life. This is a personal vendetta for him yet I appreciate his drive to help Laurie and others, if only to get back at Michael. It isn't something he'd let mum know," Billy muttered to himself.
Browsing the remaining files, he read about the night his father risked his life to save Laurie, who was Michael's target for the night, but while he succeeded in saving her, Michael still managed to come back from the dead every time he was killed.
He is one tough bastard to crack. Laurie had to fake her death in order to escape her yet he still managed to track her down and kill her at Grace Andersen. What is with this chap? It's like he is a demon enclosed in a human body!
Curious to learn why the Boogeyman stalked Laurie Strode, the psychology student read on and grew more intrigued from each of the papers he browsed. According to Marion Chambers, a nurse that worked under his father, Michael was hunting Laurie like game due to the fact that her birth name was Cynthia Myers, linking the two as siblings. Apparently, Haddonfield's infamous terrorizer had butchered one sister and was finishing the job with the other.
Billy shook his head as he tried to digest the motive for Michael's kinslaying. "Is it jealousy , a grudge, or just pure evil as my absentee father puts it. That is something I'd like to know."
Another question on the boy's mind was that if it was Laurie he wanted, then why did he kill others? To tie up loose ends? Or cut down all who got in his way? Sheriff Bracket's daughter Annie and Marion Chambers could be examples of the former and latter. The chaos and carnage brought upon by Michael's rampage would strain the tentative alliance between him and the sheriff, but it forced all of Haddonfield to take the Halloween killer's threat seriously and prevent further bloodshed.
Billy started to pace, deep in thought as his mind raced a thousand miles.
"What could drive someone to mindlessly butcher others, especially their own flesh and blood? I'd appreciate it if you could pop a hint here, father."
That was when his eyes fell upon a marking that was plastered in the top of one of the papers in Michael's files. Curious, he swiped it in his hand and pulled it close to his face. The heading wrote The Curse of Thorne and what looked like an orange arrowhead attached to a mast hovered in a black background above the title. Desperate to determine the significance of the somewhat familiar mark, Billy leafed through the file and once he finished, his eyes grew wide and his breathing hitched.
So that is what drives Michael to kill.
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