(V1)

The fog curled around you like grasping fingers, thick and suffocating. The trial had dragged on too long-far too long. Your teammates were gone, their screams swallowed by the endless night of the Entity's realm. The hooks had taken them, one by one, until only you remained. And now... now it was just him.

Michael Myers.

You could hear his footsteps behind you, slow and deliberate, never hurried. No matter how fast you ran, how many times you doubled back, he was always there. Watching.

Silent. Unstoppable.

Your lungs burned, legs aching as you pushed forward, weaving between the ruins of the trial's landscape. The last generator was unfinished, the hatch nowhere in sight. There was no escape. Not really.

And then-cold fingers clamped around your wrist.

You barely had time to gasp before your body was wrenched backward, colliding with something solid. A steel grip locked around you, pinning you in place. The blade, still slick with the blood of your allies, hovered at your throat. You braced for the inevitable, for the sharp sting of metal splitting flesh—

But it didn't come.

Michael didn't move.

His breathing, slow and deep behind the mask, was the only sound between you. The weight of his stare was suffocating. He tilted his head ever so slightly, as if studying you, considering something. His grip was tight but not cruel, firm but not crushing. He wasn't killing you.

Why?

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. His hold didn't loosen, yet there was no further violence, no ruthless execution. Instead, there was an unsettling patience, an eerie stillness as if he had already decided—

You weren't leaving this trial.

Not alive. Not dead.

Just his.