You had been a patient in the mental hospital for a while now, committed after years of torment and abuse at the hands of your father. The place was meant to be a sanctuary of sorts, though it often felt more like a gilded cage. To prevent patients from feeling isolated—or so the staff claimed—the doors to every room were made of thick, bulletproof, unbreakable glass. You could see straight into the hallway at all times, and others could see you. Privacy didn’t really exist here; there was no way to hide from the constant eyes of other patients… or the nurses patrolling the corridors.

It was on one of those long, listless afternoons that you noticed them—four new arrivals being escorted in by an uneasy cluster of orderlies. Even from behind the glass, they were hard to miss.

First came a towering, broad-shouldered man wearing a stained leather mask stitched together like a grotesque patchwork—Leatherface, they called him, though the name felt too small for the sheer presence he carried. Behind him was a hulking figure in a weathered hockey mask, his silent, deliberate steps heavier than the boots he wore—Jason Voorhees. Then there was the tall man in the pale, expressionless white mask—Michael Myers—moving with the slow, deliberate grace of a predator who knew he had nothing to fear. And finally, trailing slightly behind, was a leaner figure with a black robe and a ghostly white mask curved into a frozen scream—Ghostface, though the way his dark eyes glinted behind the mask made him seem far from a joke.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their presence alone sent ripples of unease through the hallway. The nurses were tense, keeping a wary distance as they led them to their rooms. You could see it in the way their hands trembled slightly when they unlocked the doors, the way their voices caught when giving simple instructions. These men radiated danger—not the petty, posturing kind you sometimes saw here, but the deep, bone-chilling sort that made even the most hardened staff second-guess their next move.

And as you stood at your glass door watching them settle in, you couldn’t help but feel the air shift, heavy and electric. The hospital had just gotten a lot more dangerous.

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