Chapter Text
Jake Park made his way down his usual route down the long halls of bars and cells. He kept his jaw clenched and his chin held high, his black hair combed neatly back to maintain his professional demeanor.
Professional… as if any of this is very professional.
He sighed, taking in a gulp of air as he turned the corner, approaching the wing where the current prisoners were actually held. Everything just felt a bit ridiculous to him. He didn’t want to be some pessimist, but did the others really think this was going to work out? He hated being professional anyway, that’s the whole reason he left his old life behind… but now, he's basically right back to it. Shoved right back into society, though, maybe in one of the ways he’d wish he wasn’t in, though he wasn't in the mood to argue either. He’d do his duties and get it over with.
He fixed the sleeves on his polo, adjusting the collar as he walked. He was a standard correctional officer like most of the others around. He was on evening patrol, the sun dimmed down beneath the horizon, making it so the only lighting was the artificial pale lighting, already dimmed for the late time of day. He could make out the muffled voices from within the wing, letting out a curse under his breath. These people never went to sleep at normal times.
He reached down to touch his bandage on his arm, wincing slightly as he immediately felt the sting pulse through his arm, his white polo having a tinge of faded and washed-out scarlet over the slice. What a great idea. He had a beautiful knife rip through his arm, thanks to Susie Lavoie who lashed out at him after they cuffed Frank. She still seemed to take pride in that, always seeing her grinning wildly from the bars every time he had the misfortune of passing her. So prideful she got a hit in before being tackled down to the dirt and thrown in a cell by her very own prey. How very ironic.
His boots clapped down the dimly lit tile floor, his face half-shaded by the poor light as his gaze made contact with the cells. They kept them all in the same two cell blocks to make it easier for themselves. Spread them out enough so they wouldn’t be harmful to each other, besides the legion who they let all have cells where they could see each other and chatter.
How kind.
His hand instinctively reaches down to rest over his blade as he starts down the cell block. The first four belong to the members of the legion. To his right is Frank, behind him Joey, then to the right would be Julie then Susie one back.
“Annoying” is the only thing that comes to Jake’s mind at the sight, his jaws clenching so tight he felt his jaws ache and burn slightly with the pressure. He wondered why the entity even bothered to bring a gang of bratty, raunchy teenagers with knives into its realm. He felt he could go on a whole rant about how much the little rats bothered him, but before his mind could even start its banter, a ball of wet toilet paper clapped him on the cheek.
Nearly jumping back in surprise and disgust, he quickly threw it down to the ground, wiping the slob off quickly with his sleeve. His throat convulsing into a gag at the sensation as he wiped the last of the slimy paper from his face. Luckily, for both him and whoever threw it, it seemed to just be water on it.
“Who the fuck-?”
His voice came out at near snarl as his head whipped right in the direction from which it came. His fists clenched as he eyed Frank Morrison, standing mere feet away, body draped against the bars, hands grabbing the iron with a snicker and a grin.
Frank just stood there, his pale, thin face pressed between two bars, twisted with amusement, wiping filthy water that dripped off his hand onto the chest of his prison jumpsuit.
“Of course.” Jake snarked to himself under his breath, his shocked gaze mixing with loathing. He stared off against the legion’s leader for a moment before wiping the rest of the dripping toilet water from his arm. He surely was not in the mood to fight a teenager.
The kid should’ve known how lucky he was that it was Jake rather than any of the more power-hungry guys who would’ve beat the kid’s ass.
Jake straightened his body up, hand reaching down to pat his safety blade, reassuring himself slightly as he tried to ignore the giggling that came from the other cells of his little gang friends. Well, more so the girls — Joey remaining quiet, sitting on his bed, hand pressed into his face as if suffering from second-hand embarrassment from his leader's stupid actions.
The guard continued his journey down, his gaze quickly peeking in Julie and Susie’s cells to make sure everything looked fine, but nothing popped out to him.
The keys around his belt ring jingled and clattered with each step, drawing attention to him with the help of the clap of his soles against the hard ground.
“The Tricker”, or his proper name, Ji-Woon, had the next cell, with two empty ones between his and Joey’s on the right.
Whole block full of young idiots.
He huffed, running his hand through his hair as he forced himself to come face to face with the purple-haired freak, his bright eyes piercing through Jake’s soul as he sat on the edge of his head, looking up at Jake as if he was waiting. Jake paused slightly as if waiting for the guy to say something to him, but he just gave Jake this creepy grin, which made him quickly continue on his path.
The last few cells were supposed to be empty, no prisoners to keep them company. And expectingly, they were — besides for a crow perched on the top bunk in one, staring down at Jake.
He used to like crows and the wildlife, but ever since they showed up in the place, and he got word that they were apparent marks of the entity, an eerie feeling crept up his spine at the sight of a black-feathered bird.
He bit his lip as he turned to walk back, his chin up and arms swinging slightly by his side with each loud step as he passed by the still giggling teenagers, turning to go to the next row of cells.
To the right, they kept Anna, Adriana, and Amanda Young — The Huntress, Skull Merchant, and Pig, respectively. Anna was right up front, then an empty one before Adriana, and then Amanda before another blank cell. To the left, after an empty cell they sat Danny Johnson, The Ghostface, with two lifeless cells until a more lifeless one sat at the very end… none other than Michael Myers.
He thought the setup was quite strange, but he didn’t care enough to question it.
He let out a small sigh of relief as he was not greeted with a wet bundle of toilet paper this time; this hall seemed to be much more peaceful. Danny was the only real annoying one, the ladies were quieter. Anna either spent her time humming to herself or trying to chat with the other two, but as he peeked in, he found her unnervingly close to the bars, fists clamped tightly around the unbreakable metal, my face still and blunt, bruised with exhaustion.
All of these people were creepy. No way he could deny that fact.
He opens his jaws slightly, feeling the need to say something to the much taller lady before he shakes it off, stepping down the hallway instead. Danny was next.
Jake’s gaze hardened as he turned to see the Ghostface killer just leaning against the wall, a smirk plastered on his face, bony fingers drumming against the bars. His black hair flopped messily over his face and piercing, almost black eyes, ungroomed.
It was always something with this man that made Jake itchy. He was just a creep. His shoulders heaving slightly as he stared at Jake, forcing the younger guard’s lips to press together with a dry swallow.
“What’s the matter, Jakey~?”
Danny’s voice surprised him slightly, causing him to turn back to face him, his eyes widening slightly and his nose wrinkling. He was just expecting the man to stare, not speak, before catching himself. The Ghostface’s voice was hoarse and rough, however, laced with unconcealed amusement.
“Fuck off.” The guard ended up retorting, though sounding nearly incoherent, hiding under the fumbling mutter with which he let the words escape as he walked past.
“What? It’s lonely here! Mikey doesn’t talk and I’ve already yapped these ladies' ears off!”
Jake ignored Danny’s bickering laughter as he turned to look into Adriana’s cell. She found her sitting cross-legged on her bed, picking at the stitches of her sleeve before lifting her head to meet Jake.
“He’s just a dick,” Adriana murmured under her breath before her gaze dropped back down, her short black hair falling slightly over her face again.
Jake felt himself flinch away slightly as he came closer to Amanda, who had her face pressed against the bars, fingers twitching and eyes burning with absolute hatred directed at him.
“When I get out of here…” Amanda’s voice was unsettlingly steady, her dark, hatred-filled eyes piercing his. “I’m going to fucking gut you, and all your little friends alive.”
A shiver ran down his spine, forcing himself to swallow at the cold and threatening words. The young woman's face contorted into a grin, making Jake quickly pull away down the cell block.
Really reconsidering his job choices here.
He let out a bit of a shaky breath, making himself check to make sure the next cells were empty. He almost didn’t want to look at the final cell.
Michael Myers. The infamous boogeyman of Haddonfield and of Halloween night.
He couldn’t explain it, but the way that man just sat there with this blank stare, unmoving for hours, for days… just watching… made his stomach churn. How normal and average he looked — how normal and average all of them looked — made him feel sick.
He hated everything about The Shape. Its eyes without the mask are just as lifeless as the black holes of the mask, and it never moved, never talked. It just sat there, doing absolutely nothing. He could never understand how anybody could just sit there and do absolutely nothing for hours and hours at a time.
Michael was the only one who they didn’t let out of the cell. They all knew better than to do that. Sure, he seemed human, but everybody knew he was much more than that. Laurie insisted that they chained his ankle to his bed at all times, but it seemed like he already did that with invisible bindings. Though, his wrists do remain cuffed together at all times, as that was the only thing that could ease Laurie’s nerves.
As he stood there, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as if something was watching him. He immediately froze up, goosebumps leaping up over his sensitive skin.
He didn’t want to look. He knew who and what, was watching him.
He felt his chest tighten as he slowly turned to come face to face with Michael Myers, his gaze trembling slightly as his face met his. The man’s one good eye, as black and lifeless as a void, was fixated on him, his sightless one, milky and pale, was as well. He sat on the edge of the bed, his curly, dark brown hair dripping down over his face and down his neck, his face mimicking the mask he normally wears; blank and dead.
He just stared, and Jake couldn’t help but stare back, eyes wide as they locked with the silent killer’s. The split second he held Michael’s gaze, unblinking, felt like an eternity.
That was until he noticed the dark scarlet that clung onto his fingers, smudged down his lip, and his hands as well.
He immediately felt sick, letting out a sharp gasp, his hands flying over to his mouth in panic as Myers just sat there, his gaze cold and unwavering. He felt vomit surge up his throat as his eyes darted around in search of a source for the man’s bloodied appearance, his gaze landing on a bundle of sticky black feathers and remains of scarlet meat. The dead crow’s feathers were scattered throughout the cell of the statue man, torn to pieces and devoured.
He could hear the snickering from the cells behind him, his mind racing as he quickly stumbles away from the gruesome scene, Michael Myers’ expressionless and fully dead-looking face not helping in the slightest as acid burns Jake’s throat.
He stumbled back slightly, his hands gripping at the bars of the cells as he quickly retreated from the dark cell block, his mind hazy and vision blurring out of pure nausea and shock of his discovery. He heard that The Shape had a bad habit of eating dogs… but he didn’t expect to see a half-eaten crow out of all things in the man’s cell.
Jake let out a small shriek as he felt cold arms wrap around him, yanking him hard against the bars of a cell. His body thrashed, hands ripping back to claw at the person’s face, not realizing he had backed far enough back to Danny’s cell. He felt his fingernails bend and tear up warm flesh, followed by a deep hiss that allowed Jake to quickly pull away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turned, staring up at Danny who was now clutching his cheek, his face wrinkled slightly, bits of blood trickling from where Jake’s nail met flesh.
“Fucker…” Johnson let out a small mutter before grinning down at Jake, who struggled to steady himself, still clearly shaken and trembling. “What’s the matter darling? Find something you didn’t want to see?”
Jake turned, hurling himself down the wall, away from the cell block, nausea and disgust making him bend over, his shoulders both trembling and heaving.
“Hey! What happened!?”
Not watching where he was going as he turned the corner, he ran straight into David King. David caught him, wrapping one arm protectively around the smaller man’s back, eyes darting around for any potential threats.
Jake pulled back quickly, murmuring shaky apologies as he eyed the raised baton in his coworker’s hand.
Noticing this, the small club was promptly lowered, replaced by a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened?” It was more of a demand this time.
Frantically, he nodded, his jaws working silently as he struggled to find words to explain the situation. Deciding on giving David a push down the hallway rather than explaining it himself, he rushed to the break room, his chest still heaving with panic-ridden breaths.
* * *
None of them really had a clue what to do with Michael after that. They ended up taking a plank of wood to his head and dragging his unconscious body to solitary to clean up the mess.
Jake was quite thankful when the man didn't resist or wake up during transport. He was still bloody when they brought him in there. No one dared to wash him off, but they did give him a new uniform to change into however, which he did. He ended up cleaning himself off in the sink the next morning.
Solitary confinement wasn’t much of a punishment for Michael. He was obviously used to living in solidarity, probably viewing the separation from the others as more of a reward.
They also all made sure there were no more crows allowed access to his cell.
The entity never provided any cameras for the cells, which surely made the job a lot more difficult. Jake was almost always on night duty. They did give him some time off after the incident, but now he was back on it.
His little scuffle with Danny caused him to rip some of his stitches, and he swore he could still feel Danny’s cold arms around him. It truly disgusted him. He was grateful that Danny didn’t grab anything from him at least. Both the keys and his knife he had were surely in reach on his belt. He assumed the older man was more concerned with scaring him rather than doing anything serious.
Myers’ old cell was fully cleaned now and the time was coming to bring him back to it.
Laurie suggested they should just leave him in solitary for a while, but Meg argued it was stupid. No one bothered with the word cruel in regard to that man. They could be as cruel as they wanted to any of these people and no one would stop them or care.
Standing at the door of the solitary confinement cell, Jake knew the one in there was truly one of the worst. Both here and before he needed no motivation, no reason beyond a simple desire to kill. There was not a drop of empathy inside that man’s iron heart, not an ounce of remorse.
Jake was holding onto a small tray of flavourless slop he was supposed to feed to the man. None of the food provided by the entity was ever good in the least, but the guards got fed better. A small piece of likely stale bread and some plain pasta lay on the tray as he slid it through the small opening in the door. He gave the metal door a few bangs as if Michael wasn’t already acutely aware of his presence.
He knew Michael was sitting in the bed before he slid open the shield for the tiny window atop the door.
The young man’s wrists remained chained together as always as he stared at the opposite side of him. His mindless gaze refused to break contact with the concrete as Jake peered in.
Jake just watched the motionless man, debating if saying anything would make much of a difference. Settling on the fact it wouldn’t change a thing, he set the blinds back into place and turned to go on his way.
He still couldn’t get over Michael in particular. This terrifying, cold-blooded man they all feared and dreaded in trials now just sat locked up in a room.
He was waiting.
At least that’s what Laurie told him he was doing. Waiting the same way he apparently waited for 15 years between Judith Myers’ murder and the massacre that left both him and Laurie stranded in this realm. Fifteen people dead in the real world and countless, torturous, pain-ridden trials since then just to be chained up staring at a wall.
It frightened him more that Michael wasn’t trying to escape.
They were planning to go after the Deathslinger next. Well- that’s what who hoped the entity would bring them to.
It was like in the former trials where they would bring offerings to it is how they have been able to capture more. Unless it were to provide specific containment and devices, there were many killers they couldn't even fathom getting a hold on.
Caleb Quinn, as Jake learned his name to be, was not somebody he wanted to be a part of containing. He was already stabbed, he definitely didn’t want a spear through him.
However… The speargun would surely be useful for them.
Better than trying to control blood-thirsty murderers with knives and batons.