The blast doors slammed shut behind Michael. The external airlocks opened. The atmosphere ripped out of the bay in a violent, silent tornado. Crates, tools, and debris flew out into the endless star field.
"Now!" Halloway shouted over the comms from the bridge.
Michael turned. The white mask—the original mask, somehow preserved and placed on his face for the transport—stared back. It was a visage of absolute nothingness.
On the monitors, Warden Halloway watched the camera feed from Deck 4. The frost cleared from the inside of the pod. A hand, pale and scarred, pressed against the glass. Then, slowly, the lid pushed open. michael myers in space
He was not dead. He was just waiting.
In the microgravity, a simple push was enough to send a man flying, but Michael held on. He didn't strangle the man; he simply turned off the marine's magnetic boots. Then, with a shove, he sent the armored soldier drifting backward down the corridor. The marine thrashed, helpless, drifting toward the breach in the hull.
The disaster began with a mundane mechanical failure. A micrometeoroid, no larger than a grain of sand, punctured the primary cooling manifold of the Patroclus . The blast doors slammed shut behind Michael
Alarms screamed through the narrow corridors. Warden Halloway, a gruff veteran of the Orbital Wars, watched the monitors as systems cascaded into the red. "We've got a hull breach on Deck 4," he barked into the comms. "Seal it. Blow the emergency vents if you have to."
Michael Myers stepped out into the low gravity. He floated slightly, his boots mag-locked to the deck with a heavy, rhythmic clank... clank... clank .
| Act | Time | Michael’s Activity | Kill Count | |-----|------|--------------------|-------------| | 1 | First 20 min | Hidden in cryo bay. Watching through vents. | 1 (awakening kill) | | 2 | 20–50 min | Slow, methodical stalking. Disables radio. Sabotages shuttle fuel. | 2–3 | | 3 | 50–75 min | Active hunting. Lights out. Zero-g chase. | 2 | | 4 | 75–90 min | Final confrontation. Michael damaged but relentless. | 1–2 + finale | Crates, tools, and debris flew out into the
Among the five hundred inmates locked in cryo-stasis, one pod was marked with a simple, stark designation:
Dr. Loomis II filed his report. He wrote that Subject Zero had been neutralized, lost to the void. He hoped that the cold of space, the absolute zero of deep space, would finally freeze the evil that drove the man.
"Freeze!" the squad leader shouted, his voice tinny through his helmet speaker. "Hands in the air!"