"Before we head out, I need to grab something from the pub. Do you mind?" Jessica asked.
Michael shook his head quickly. "Nah, not at all."
What right did he have to say no? He was broke, stranded, no ID, no plan. Sleeping on the street wasn't an option—not when someone was willing to help. Best move was sticking close to this girl until he could figure something out.
"Okay. Follow me, then." She smiled lightly and started walking.
They rounded the corner into a small parking lot, and the sound hit him first—live music, laughter, voices raised in drunken cheer. Lanterns and orange lights spilled out from a building alive with sound. The pub. A Halloween party, clearly for the grown-ups of town.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with warmth and noise.
On a small stage, three women in shimmering mermaid outfits sang, their voices drowned by the chatter.
Jessica tugged Michael gently toward the counter. "Hey, Jeremy," she greeted the man behind the bar.
The bartender looked up—a black man, broad-shouldered, grey in his beard, maybe pushing sixty. His eyes flicked to Michael, sizing him up.
"Well now, Jessica," he said with a chuckle. "Here for the party?"
"Sort of," Jessica said with a grin. "This is Michael. He's… a friend. Visiting from out of town."
Michael nodded silently, grateful she threw that in.
Jeremy's laugh rumbled. "Nice to meet you, Michael. Always good to see new faces in Haddonfield." He leaned on the counter. "What can I get you two?"
"My mom said you had something for her?" Jessica asked, tilting her head.
Jeremy's eyes lit up. "Ah, yes. The masterpiece." He bent down and pulled out a glass bottle wrapped in a paper bag. "I call 'em the Goodie Goodies." He handed it to her with almost ceremonial care.
"Thanks, Jeremy. I'll see you around," Jessica said, tucking the bottle under her arm.
"Hold on, hold on," Jeremy stopped her, gesturing toward Michael. "You're just gonna walk out without letting your friend try something? Man came a long way. First drink's on the house."
Jessica hesitated, glancing at Michael. His face was tired, but he understood the game. If he wanted to keep blending in here, refusing would only make him stand out.
"C'mon," Jeremy coaxed, already pouring a small glass. "We don't bite."
Michael gave a tight smile. "Guess I can't say no to free." He raised the drink, took a sip—smooth, strong, surprisingly good.
On stage, a man had stepped up to the mic. The pub slowly quieted.
"Any of you know the story of the Haddonfield Boogeyman?" His voice carried easily, seasoned with drama. "Too young to give a damn? Too drunk to remember?"
The crowd chuckled uneasily. Michael only half-listened, lost in his own head—until the man continued.
"Forty years ago, a madman escaped from Smith's Grove Sanitarium. The night before Halloween, three teenage girls walked home from Haddonfield High. They saw… something. A figure. White mask. Watching." He gestured like he could summon the image himself.
The room darkened in mood, voices murmuring in agreement, piecing the tale together with him.
"He wasn't just a man. He was something else. By the end of the night, three people were dead. And in the house next door… a babysitter, a boy, and a girl were attacked. Brutally. By this… shape. This power no mortal man should have."
The air grew heavy. Some people bowed their heads, others whispered. Even Jessica had gone still, listening intently.
Michael sipped his drink again, trying to ignore the creeping chill. But something gnawed at him.
'This shit feels… familiar.'
On stage, the man's voice trembled now, heavy with old pain.
"My name… is Tommy Doyle. And I was that young boy." His voice cracked. His eyes glistened with trauma, the weight of survival pressing down on the words.
The room fell silent. Respectful. Sad.
"Please," he said, fist clenched, "join me in remembering the victims… and the survivors… of Michael Myers."
The crowd erupted in applause, solemn but strong. Glasses raised.
Michael froze mid-sip, the name hitting him like a truck.
His eyes widened. The drink stalled on his lips.
"Yo, wait, what the f—"
COUGH. COUGH-COUGH.
He doubled over suddenly, hacking like he'd swallowed fire, drink nearly spraying from his mouth.
The crowd turned, startled. Jessica blinked at him in shock. Jeremy barked out a laugh.
Michael, face scrunched and coughing into his sleeve, wheezed between chokes—