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Jake had been lucky to spot him before he was spotted. The Shape, wandering around his home turf, searching for a victim to stalk.
The saboteur was a little more than annoyed. The masked man was one of the most terrifying killers, and one that they rarely survived against.
He had no traps, no simple trick he could disassemble with the right tools, but Jake was determined to find a way to sabotage him somehow.
Watching him move about from the relative saftey of a rooftop, Jake did his best to hatch a plan. There had to be something, anything that could possibly give the silent killer a hard time.
That’s when it hit him. The mask. No one had seen him out of it, not even Laurie, the killer's true face an enigma. Maybe, if he could take it off, he'd be too focused on covering it back up to kill them.
It was worth a shot. What did he have to lose but his life, again.
All he had to do was somehow outstalk the stalker.
At the very least, the Shape hadn’t noticed him yet, so he had the element of surprise in his favor.
He could drop down, right now, and try to grab the mask on his way down. Myers wouldn’t expect that. Except, now that he thought about it, the likeliness of that actually working was small, especially since there was no guarantee he could even grab the mask on his way down, let alone pull it off his head.
No, the much better option was sneaking up behind him. Jake just had to hope the masked murderer didn’t notice him.
So taking one last look at the stalking man, Jake took careful steps down the stairs, cautiously making his way to the back of the house. He tried his best to remember what Nea had taught him, walking low and as quietly as possible out the back of the home.
Someone must’ve burned a jar of salty lips, because Michael was still in the backyard, back turned to him, and still oblivious to his presence. It was all too perfect, the opportunity laying there before him.
Except he quickly remembered one crucial detail: height difference. How the hell was he gonna get the mask off of him if he could barely reach it in the first place?
Myers moved again, and Jake froze, praying he wouldn’t be spotted. His prayers were answered, as Michael only moved a little ways away, back still towards him.
It was then he saw it, the perfect coincidence; Myers was standing right beside a bench. A bench that would make him tall enough to nab the mask, let alone touch it.
He had to move quickly if he was going to get away with it.
So as quickly and quietly as he possibly could, Jake ran up behind Myers, standing up on the bench, and reached out. His hands met latex, fingers grasping the brown artificial hair. Securing his grip on it, he heard Michael make a noise, and without another moment of hesitation, Jake yanked.
There was resistance, the mask catching on Myers’ chin, but he kept his grip. With the element of surprise on his side, Jake suddenly had a white fake face in his hand, and a real human head before him.
Disbelief and adrenaline racing through his veins, Jake stared up at the forest masked man in shock.
Holy shit. He is done it.
The mask was off.
Michael turned on a dime, and stabbed him in the chest. The blade dug deep, diving deep between his ribs, before being torn out of him.
The force of the blow was almost like Myers was tier 3, as Jake was knocked off his feet. He landed on his butt roughly, one hand clutching his wounded side as the other held the mask. The Shape towered over him, before suddenly crouching in front of him.
Jake laughed nervously, as for the first time ever, he could read Myers’ expression. There was no smile, no frown, but his eyes, his deep dark eyes burned with rage. He tried to back away slowly, but Myers quickly closed the distance between them. Jake had no idea what Michael was planning to do, but he knew without a doubt, he had definitely fucked up.
“What you gonna do, mori me?”
For a moment, Myers didn’t react, simply staring daggers at him. That was until a smile crept into his face, and he dropped the bloody kitchen knife.
Jake froze with shock and confusion. The hell was Myers planning? He had just disarmed himself!
Attempting to seize the opportunity, Jake reached for the knife, only to have his wrist snatched up by Myers. The grip was tight and unbreakable, and Jake was quickly reminded that this killer didn’t need a knife to be lethal.
After a few moments of being in his crushing grip, he let go, Jake hissing in pain from his wound and the hold. He was afraid though, to run away, afraid something else would be crushed if he did.
Michael didn’t move his hand away however. Instead, the killer reached behind the saboteur, grabbing him by the scruff of his coat, and pulling him a little closer.
Jake laughed nervously, no idea what the fuck Myers was planning.
“Uh, you gonna choke or kiss me Myers? ”
Myers said nothing (per usual), a slightly annoyed look in his eyes, as he continued to drag Jake just a little closer.
Then he stopped. Jake squatted in front of him, nervous and confused, as Myers looked him up and down, his tongue flicking over his lips. Without warning, the saboteur was suddenly and harshly yanked forward, his head plunged into the killer's now open mouth.
It was hot, humid, and disgusting, Jake closing his eyes and mouth as the tongue lapped at his face.
How in the he-
A flashback. The vivid image of seeing Nea's legs dangling out of the Wraith's mouth flashed in his head, and like that, he realized exactly what was going to happen to him.
Survival instinct kicking in, Jake began to thrash, kicking and punching at the killer.
Michael seemed to neither like that nor be effected by it much at all. Soon after his struggles began, he felt himself being pulled in deeper, the sound of a swallow reverberated around him.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shi-
He couldn’t get out!
Desperately trying to pull his head out, he felt the mask torn from his grip, his one prize taken away as he was claimed as one. Damn it, he’d hoped he could’ve at least taken that down with him. Now he had no bargaining chip for getting out.
He felt around, in the faintest hope that he might be able to grab it again, but such a hope was quickly dashed. With a loud long swallow, Jake quickly found that his arms were pinned to his sides.
The throat undulating around him, squeezing his head, squeezing his lungs, as he struggled to breathe. Air was humid and lacking, Jake only able to catch a moderate breath with every other motion of peristalsis.
And then, his head was free. He glanced around, still unable to see, but easily deducting he had finally reached the stomach. As more of him slid into the space below, he braced himself for a face full of stomach acid, arms still pinned to his sides.
Jake audibly groaned as his hair was dipped into the stomach juices, not tingling or burning thankfully, but disgusting nonetheless. He was getting soaked by it, adding to his already unpleasant coating of saliva.
“Ugh this is so fucking gross.”
He could feel Michael flinch, along with a few sharp exhales. Wait, was he laughing?
“Fuck you.”
Unfortunately, Jake had not expected Michael to react to his insults, as he was quickly taken by surprise as Michael bit his ankles. He shrieked, attempting to kick with no avail, only making it hurt more.
“Ow ow ow ow shit I’m sorry! Come on dude, you’re already eating me, can’t I at least throw out an insult or two?”
The masked bastard was probably smug, glad to show the saboteur his place. He released his toothy hold on his legs and continued to swallow him, no stinging as they went down, seemingly no skin broken.
It wasn’t long before the rest of him was squeezed into the stomach, the lack of remaining space forcing him into a curled up position. He winced as fluids splashed onto his open wound, stinging the hole between his ribs.
He could hear Myers sigh in satisfaction, before starting to move. Of course the fucking bastard was enjoying this, probably enjoyed the taste of his blood too.
Fuck! His entire plan had backlashed. Now his remaining survivors were already down one, and he’d provided the silent bitch a tasty meal too. At most he'd managed to waste some the killer's time, but other than that, he’d only been helping him.
Pissed, Jake gave the best kick he could to the stomach wall, earning a slight grunt in response. Yes! He could still hurt the bitch! A new fire lighting up in him, the saboteur began to struggle violently, kicking and punching his prison with as much him and vigor as he could muster.
A part of him knew he wouldn’t get away with it for long, but he was still taken by surprise when the walls closed in around him, tighter and tighter, until he could barely breathe and move. He couldn’t struggle, not with no space to wiggle, all his attention on his breaths.
“D-damn it…” The words here hardly audible, breathy and strained, his squeezed lungs making it hard to speak in the first place. Jake could feel his wound again, the hole throbbing with the increased pressure and uncomfortable positioning.
“I… I’m sorry… I took… your mask…”
Michael must've had super sensitive ears, because thankfully after his strained apology, the stomach unclenched, and he could breathe easily again. And yet, he still felt dizzy.
He couldn’t shake it off, despite the fact he was in pitch black darkness, he was starting to see stars, flicking silver things on the edge of his vision. A wave of exhaustion went over him, Jake doing his best to resist the urge. As his gloved hand moved to rub his eyes, he felt a sticky substance smear onto his face, the smell a familiar metallic one.
Oh. Oh fuck. He was bleeding out.
He’s been so distracted, so preoccupied by his unsavoury predicament, he’d almost forgotten about his stab wound. The injury was not yet been tended to, the hole in his chest feeling deep and aching.
A cough tickled his throat, and when he gave into the urge, something wet came out, tasting metallic on his tongue.
Oh no.
A wave of dizziness soon washed over him, and despite his vision already being pitch black at the moment, he began to see stars. Jake trembled, as his calm demeanor cracked, the panic starting to set in.
He was going to die. He was going to die trapped in Myers’ gut and no one would know. He was going to be di-
Jake coughed again, more fluid coming up, and more pain in his chest. He could feel his senses slowly dimming, a numbness crawling into his fingertips.
Fuck!
It was over. His foolish mistake had cost him his life, but at least know he had some forbidden knowledge. He knew what Myers looked like. It wasn’t all a loss.
And now he knew removing his mask only pissed the silent killer off.
Jake sighed, leaving back against the stomach wall, trying to get as comfortable as possible. If he was going to die (again), might as well take the opportunity to do it comfortably. And well, in was surprisingly comfy on inside of Michael, albeit cramped. So doing his best to ignore the pain, Jake found himself able to relax.
Surrounded by a mix of his own blood and Myers’ digestive fluids, consciousness fading, he gave the gut one last kick, one more act of defiance. Jake just barely heard the sound of a faint grunt, a smile stretching across his lips.
“Fuck… you.”
And with that, Jake passed out.