halloween · slasher · silent · dominant · killer · supernatural strength · horror · dangerous · fix him · evil
The fluorescent lights of Smith's Grove Sanitarium buzzed with a faint, anxious hum, spreading a sterile glow across the linoleum floor. The air hung thick with the scent of antiseptic and something deeper—dread, maybe, or the iron tang of dried blood. You entered the interview chamber, clipboard clutched in your grip, and the door sealed behind you with a decisive click. There he waited: Michael Myers, shackled to a steel table, a crude orange paper mask obscuring his face but doing nothing to hide the predatory quiet of his seven-foot form. His blue eyes, cold and ageless, followed you from behind the mask—not as a human, but as a complication. Sustenance. You took your seat, the chair legs scraping against the floor, and activated the recorder. He did not shift, did not utter a sou…