The Haddonfield sunset burned a deep orange as Cassian and Helen arrived at the town bar, a dimly lit place buzzing with nervous murmurs. Tommy Doyle, a stocky middle-aged man who had survived Michael Myers in 1978 as a child, was there celebrating the 40th anniversary of the killer's capture with his friends: Marion Chambers, a retired nurse who worked with Dr. Loomis; Lindsey Wallace, a quiet woman who also escaped Michael as a child; and Lonnie Elam, a tough guy and father of Cameron, Allyson's boyfriend. Cassian parked the Jeep outside, his face impassive as he pulled his dagger and pistol from his bag, determined to act alone with Helen as backup. Helen stepped out carrying a Vatican briefcase, opening the compartment where she kept a thermal-sensor drone.
"This place is packed, Cassian," said Helen, adjusting the drone while eyeing the bar. "Are you sure you want to go in? We can track Michael from here; we don't need this mob."
Cassian checked his pistol, his deep voice resonating with certainty.
"I don't need anyone else, Helen. Tommy and his crew can shout all they want, but I hunt alone. They're noise; you're my support. Launch the drone—I want to know where Michael is right now."
Helen nodded, activating the drone with a soft hum as it ascended into the sky.
"Alright, it's airborne. The sensors are scanning for heat and movement. After last night, I doubt he's gone far. What do we do if we find him? Another trap like at Laurie's house?"
Cassian adjusted his crucifix, glaring at the bar with disdain.
"No, this time I kill him myself. I don't trust traps or crowds. If I see him, I face him, and you give me the exact position. Let's go inside—I want to hear what they know."
Inside the bar, Tommy raised a beer, his voice echoing as he toasted.
"To Laurie Strode, the one who survived that bastard. Forty years since he was locked up, and here we are, alive." Marion, Lindsey, and Lonnie nodded, but the tension broke when Cassian and Helen entered, their figures standing out among the locals. Tommy looked at them, frowning.
"Who are you? I don't know you, and tonight's no night for strangers. Speak quickly."
Cassian crossed his arms, his imposing presence silencing the murmurs.
"I'm Cassian, this is Helen. We're from the Vatican; we hunt Michael Myers. He escaped last night, killed four at a gas station and more in the suburbs. I'm not here to join your party—I want to know if you have any leads."
Marion, an older woman with glasses, spoke in a trembling voice.
"The Vatican? What does the church have to do with Michael? I saw him in 1978; I helped Loomis stop him. He's a man, not a demon."
Cassian looked at her, his tone cold but direct.
"Man or not, he kills like something I don't understand. I faced him last night, shot him, stabbed him, and he's still alive. If you know where he might go, tell me. I don't need your help—just information."
Lonnie, with a scar on his cheek, leaned forward.
"They say he's back in town. Killed Sondra and Phil, Laurie's neighbors, an hour ago. If you're looking for him, he's out there, hunting. What are you going to do, take him down by yourself?"
Cassian nodded, his gaze hard.
"Yes, alone. Helen's got my back—you stay here or do whatever you want. Let's go, Helen."
They left the bar as Helen's drone emitted a beep on her laptop.
"I've got him, Cassian. He's in a park three streets away, moving fast. He killed three: Marion, Vanessa, and Marcus, according to the Vatican cameras I hacked in town. He's heading north."
Cassian jumped into the Jeep, starting the engine.
"Take me there, now."
They arrived at the park, a dark place with creaking swings and fresh blood on the grass. Michael Myers emerged from the shadows, his white mask glowing under the moonlight, holding a bloody knife after killing Marion, Vanessa (a bar patron), and Marcus (her husband). Cassian stepped out of the Jeep without hesitation, his dagger in one hand and his pistol in the other, facing him alone.
"Come on, bastard," growled Cassian, charging toward him.
Michael swung a brutal slash, but Cassian rolled under the blow, slicing his thigh with the dagger in a swift motion, the blade tearing through muscle. Michael growled, spinning with inhuman strength, and Cassian fired at his chest, the impact making him stagger back. The killer rammed into him, slamming him against a tree, but Cassian got up, dodging another strike and plunging the dagger into his shoulder, twisting it with fury. Michael roared, shoving him away and fleeing after injuring Lindsey, who screamed on the grass.
Helen ran to Cassian, helping him up.
"You're crazy, Cassian! Are you okay? You had him, but he escaped. Lindsey's alive, but badly hurt."
Cassian wiped the blood from his dagger, breathing deeply.
"I'm fine. He's fast, but he bleeds. Where did he go?"
Helen checked the laptop, her voice urgent.
"The drone's tracking him—he's heading to his childhood home. Allyson, Cameron, and Lonnie are nearby; I saw them on the cameras. We can intercept him."
Cassian nodded, climbing back into the Jeep.
"Let's go. I don't need anyone else. You and I, Helen—we finish this."
As they drove, chaos erupted at Haddonfield Hospital. Laurie and Hawkins, recovering from injuries, were surrounded by a mob led by Tommy, chasing Lance Tovoli, an escaped prisoner mistaken for Michael. Cassian arrived alone, pushing through the crowd with brute force, his voice cutting through the air.
"Back off! It's not him, idiots. Michael's somewhere else."
Tommy confronted him, his face red with fury.
"Who do you think you are? We're going to kill him, whoever he is!"
Cassian grabbed him by the neck, lifting him briefly before letting him go.
"I'm the one who faces him while you scream. Go home, let me do my job."
Helen, from the Jeep, used Vatican cameras to monitor the town, her voice sharp.
"Cassian, Michael's at his old house. He killed Big John and Little John, the couple living there. He's inside, now."
Cassian turned toward the Jeep, his gaze fierce.
"Let's go, Helen. This ends with me and him, face to face."
The Jeep roared toward Michael's childhood home, where the killer waited among shadows and fresh blood, ready for the next confrontation.