Axel Vance pulled Michael Myers’s file from the thick stack of criminal records and pushed it across the desk toward Clarice Starling. His finger tapped twice against Michael’s name while his expression remained unusually serious. "Take a closer look at this one."
Clarice opened the file and quickly scanned the pages they had already reviewed. Michael had murdered his older sister Judith Myers at only six years old, spent fifteen years confined at Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, and later escaped before beginning another series of killings. His later records were more complicated because this world’s history had eventually brought him through several secure institutions before his transfer to Holden’s maximum-security wing in Florida.
Clarice’s eyebrows drew together. "Murdering your own sister at six years old is horrifying, but I still don’t see anything here that directly connects him to a cult." She turned another page and looked back at Axel. "Mental illness, institutionalization, multiple murders, repeated escapes—yes. Cult involvement? Not yet."
Axel leaned back in his chair with far more confidence than the evidence technically justified. The name Michael Myers alone was enough to make him suspicious because he remembered far more about the man than any ordinary police file could possibly contain. Still, he could hardly explain that his certainty came from watching horror movies in another life.
"Look at the pattern instead of just the charges," Axel said. "He murdered a family member as a child, spent most of his life almost completely detached from normal human behavior, then repeatedly returned to the same family connection years later." He paused before adding, "Something may have influenced that fixation, and considering what we found beneath the prison, a cult connection is worth considering."
Clarice considered his argument but remained visibly unconvinced. "Worth investigating, yes. Worth treating as fact, no." She closed Michael’s file and reached for another folder. "We still review everyone else. Procedure exists because the first interesting theory is often the wrong one."
Axel gave a quiet sigh and picked up another file. "Fine. We do it your way."
For the next several hours, the office settled into the steady rustling of paper. Axel and Clarice went through every maximum-security inmate they could identify, comparing crimes, psychiatric records, former addresses, known associates, religious affiliations, and anything else that might suggest a connection to the excavation beneath the prison. By the time they reached the final stack, the afternoon sunlight outside the windows had already turned gold.
Axel rubbed his tired eyes and looked toward Clarice. "Well?"
Clarice pinched the bridge of her nose before looking at the files spread across the desk. "I hate admitting this after making you read all of that, but Michael Myers is still the strongest lead." She tapped his folder. "Not because we’ve proven a cult connection, but because his history contains more unexplained behavior and sealed family material than the others."
Axel smiled slightly. "So I was right."
"You were suspicious," Clarice corrected. "There’s a difference."
"That’s close enough."
With a direction finally established, their investigation moved much faster. The department’s archived case material and older institutional records eventually revealed sealed information connecting Michael to a surviving younger sister who had been adopted by another family. Her current name was Laurie Strode.
Axel’s expression became serious again.
That confirmed which branch of the story this world was following.
Laurie Strode was Michael Myers’s younger sister.
The original placement records showed that Laurie had been raised by the Strode family, and later law-enforcement updates placed them in the Miami area after the events surrounding Michael’s earlier escape. Clarice immediately began making calls to verify that the address was still current.
Several minutes later, a fax machine near the records section began printing.
Clarice tore off the page and returned to Axel’s desk. "Got it. Current family address."
Axel took the sheet and quickly scanned the information. He then walked to a records clerk, exchanged a few words, and returned less than a minute later with additional local information written on a small note. He held it up with a grin. "See? Sometimes local cops really are faster than federal paperwork."
Clarice gave him the faintest hint of a smile. "Enjoy that victory while it lasts."
Neither wasted any more time.
They left the police department and drove away from downtown Miami, gradually leaving the noisy commercial streets behind. Apartment buildings and traffic gave way to quieter residential neighborhoods until Clarice finally slowed the car in front of a modest white house.
"This should be it," she said while checking the address again.
Axel stepped out with her and approached the front door. After several knocks, a middle-aged man wearing glasses cautiously opened it and looked between the two investigators. "Can I help you?"
Axel showed his badge. "Axel Vance, Miami Police Department. We’re looking for Laurie Strode."
The man’s expression immediately tightened.
"Yes. I’m her father."
Axel recognized the reaction at once. The Strode family already knew enough about Michael Myers for a police visit mentioning Laurie to be terrifying. "Mr. Strode, Laurie hasn’t done anything wrong. We’re here because something connected to Michael may have happened."
The color quickly drained from the man’s face.
"Michael?"
Clarice stepped closer. "We have reason to believe he may have escaped during the prison disaster yesterday."
That was enough.
Mr. Strode looked past them toward the street as though expecting a silent figure to already be standing there. "Laurie should be coming home from school around now."
Axel’s expression changed.
"She isn’t home yet?"
"No."
Axel and Clarice exchanged a look.
The same thought passed between them.
If Michael had escaped and knew where Laurie was...
"Which school?" Axel asked immediately.
Mr. Strode gave them the address, and the two investigators were moving before he could ask another question. Clarice hurried toward the driver’s side while Axel returned to the passenger seat. Seconds later, the car pulled away from the curb.
Clarice pushed the accelerator harder than before.
Axel opened the patrol car’s shotgun rack and pulled out the department-issued weapon. He checked the chamber, then began loading shells one after another with controlled movements. After his experience with Ed Gein, he had absolutely no intention of approaching Michael Myers with only optimism and a badge.
Clarice glanced toward him. "You’re expecting that much trouble?"
Axel continued loading. "You read my report about Gein."
"I did."
"I think Myers may be just as difficult to put down."
Clarice looked back toward the road.
Axel regretted not arranging backup before they left. A tactical team would have made him considerably more comfortable, but getting one assembled based on a theory about an escaped institutional killer could take longer than Laurie Strode had. If Michael was already hunting her, minutes mattered.
The car reached the school district shortly before sunset.
To Axel’s surprise, there were no screaming students, police sirens, or bodies waiting outside. Teenagers walked away from the school in small groups, talking and laughing as though nothing unusual had happened. The entire neighborhood appeared almost painfully normal.
Clarice slowed the car.
"Maybe we were wrong."
Axel did not answer.
They continued scanning the sidewalk until Clarice suddenly pointed. "There."
Axel followed her gaze.
A teenage girl matching Laurie’s photograph was walking calmly down the sidewalk with another female classmate. She was laughing at something her friend had said and showed no sign that she had encountered Michael Myers or even realized she might be in danger.
Axel stared through the windshield.
Clarice looked equally confused.
Laurie was perfectly fine.
So where was Michael?
Several blocks away, a young couple walked past the entrance of a secluded alley while leaning comfortably against each other. The evening light had begun to fade, leaving the narrow space between the buildings covered in long shadows. The woman suddenly slowed and pulled gently on her boyfriend’s sleeve.
"Hey. Look over there."
The young man followed her gaze.
Deep inside the alley stood a clown.
The figure wore a cheap-looking costume and exaggerated makeup painted roughly across his face. He stood completely alone beneath the weak light, his posture strange enough that the young man immediately felt uncomfortable.
The woman laughed. "He’s performing."
As if hearing her, the clown suddenly began an exaggerated mime routine. He pretended to pull an invisible rope, stumbled backward dramatically, then pressed both hands against an imaginary wall. His movements were ridiculous enough that the woman immediately became interested.
Her boyfriend did not share her enthusiasm. "It’s some guy dressed like a clown in an alley. Let’s keep walking."
"Oh, come on." She tugged his arm. "He looks pathetic standing there by himself."
"That is not helping your argument."
"We’ll watch for a minute."
The boyfriend sighed.
Unable to refuse her, he reluctantly followed as she walked closer.
The clown immediately became more animated when he realized he finally had an audience. He reached into his costume, produced a long balloon, and began twisting it between his fingers with surprising speed. Within seconds, he had created a small balloon dog.
He presented it to the woman with an exaggerated bow.
She laughed and accepted it. "See? He’s sweet."
Her boyfriend slowly relaxed.
The clown straightened.
His smile vanished.
Before either of them could react, his hand disappeared beneath his costume and returned holding a knife.
The blade plunged into the young man’s abdomen.
"Ghk—!"
His eyes widened as blood rose into his mouth. He tried to grab the clown’s arm, but the knife was ripped free and driven into him again. His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the pavement.
The woman stared in disbelief.
"No!"
She turned to run.
The clown lunged after her.
The knife struck her before she could take more than a few steps. She screamed once as the blade entered, then collapsed beside her boyfriend. The balloon dog slipped from her hand and bounced lightly across the pavement.
Silence returned to the alley.
The clown stood over the two bodies and slowly smiled again.
He looked almost pleased with his work.
After checking that nobody was approaching, he bent down and grabbed one victim beneath the arms. He had only started dragging the body deeper into the alley when his movements suddenly stopped.
Someone was standing behind him.
A tall figure.
Motionless.
The clown slowly released the corpse.
His head turned.
The smile disappeared from his painted face.
For the first time, genuine nervousness entered his expression.
"Myers?"
The tall man did not answer.
The clown tightened his grip around the knife.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Still nothing.
The clown backed away half a step before anger replaced his surprise.
"This is my territory."
Michael Myers remained silent.
The clown raised the knife.
"Get out."
Michael took one slow step forward.
The clown’s eyes widened.
"Ah—"
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