Chapter 2: The Shape

Batman stood in the command central of Arkham Asylum's security. Before him was a wall of television monitors, showing images from the security cameras set up all over the asylum. Next to him, sitting in a chair as he worked on a computer controlling the cameras and monitors, was another man.

He was an African-American man who seemed a few years older than Batman. He had a bald head and a black goatee along with dark brown eyes. He wore an Arkham Asylum guard's uniform over his athletic build. His right hand ended in a prosthetic claw.

"What do you have, Cash?" Batman asked the man.

"I got the footage of Joker's escape," the man, Cash, replied as he typed a few commands into the computer, "And it ain't pretty."

Hitting one last button, a video began playing on the camera in front of them. It depicted the Joker sitting in his cell. Over the audio, Batman could hear two guards demand Joker enter his gurney for transport. Joker seemingly was ignoring them, busy doodling on his walls with a pen he got from god knows where. Eventually, one of the guards got fed up and punched in the code for the door and entered his cell, the other guard trailing behind him.

"Boles," Cash growled, watching the video, "A hothead rookie that the Joker had been antagonizing the past few weeks."

As Batman watched, the guard, Boles, walked up and grabbed Joker's shoulder. In a flash, the Joker spun around and plunged the pen into Boles' neck. Blood squirted from the wound as the Joker laughed, pushing the other man away, blood pouring from the wound, which the guard grasped while he crumbled to the ground.

Meanwhile, the other guard stared at his dead partner in shock. Seeing the Joker advance on him, the other guard began to panic and fumbled for his baton, but the Joker was on him before he could pull it out.

Joker leapt on the other man, knocking them both to the ground. Grabbing the other man's head he began to bang it against the padded floor, stunning him. Flicking up the guards protective visor, he reached down and grabbed the man's face before driving his thumbs into the other man's eyes. The guard screamed in pain as blood shot out from around Joker's thumbs, dripping down the man's face as he screamed in pain and terror. Cackling madly, the Joker gave the man's head a quick twist, breaking it. He pulled his thumbs from the dead man's eye sockets, blood dripping from his thumbs as he giggled in delight.

Leaning down, he took the guard's key card and billy club, before leaving his cell. Cash switched the view to a camera observing the hallway. After a few moments, the Joker emerged from behind the steel door the led into his cell.

"How did he get through that?" Batman asked.

"Messed with the wiring, must have been using his time to study the door," Cash groused, "Sometimes I wonder why we even bother locking him up."

Batman made no comment as his eyes narrowed, watching as Joker walked across the hall to the door leading to the cell across from him. He quickly punched in a code for the door and it swung open, allowing him to enter.

"Guess he was watching them punch in the codes too," Cash sighed.

A few moments later, Joker backpedaled out of the cell, followed by the lumbering form of Michael Myers, his hair hiding his face. Joker spoke to Michael for a few moments, but there was no audio to hear what he was saying and Joker was holding his hand up to block his mouth from the camera's view.

"No audio?" Batman questioned.

"There is, he's whispering," Cash explained, "He knew the camera was there too."

As they continued to watch, Michael nodded at whatever the Joker told him, before the two began to make their way down the hall.

"After that, Joker lets Myers out of one of the emergency exits, and causes a distraction by killing the guards in the mess hall," Cash explains ending the video.

"I'll need to get him to tell me what he told Myers," Batman commented.

"Now, I don't mean to pry or anything, but you seem shaken up, Batman," Cash commented, "Something about this Myers guy?"

"I've run into him before," Batman replied simply, "There's a good reason he was locked up for so long."

With that, Batman walked out of the room, leaving a puzzled Cash behind. Walking down the hall, his footsteps boomed across the walls. Eventually, he came to a cell guarded by half a dozen guards. They moved to let him enter the small, cement cell, where the Joker had been strapped to a gurney. He smiled as Batman entered.

"Hey there, Batsy!" he exclaimed happily as Batman stormed up to him, "How's it hanging?"

Batman merely growled as he stomped up to Joker and grabbed him by the throat.

"What did you tell him!?" he demanded.

"Tell who?" Joker choked out.

"Myers!" Batman shouted, tightening his grip, "What did you tell him!? Where is he going!?"

"Come on, Batsy," Joker wheezed with a sadistic grin, "You've read his file. You know exactly where he's going."

Batman's eyes widened in realization before he released Joker's throat and stormed back out of the room, Joker's hoarse laughter following him as he did.

Leaving the cell, Batman saw the Commissioner walking down the hall towards him.

"What did Joker say?" Jim asked as Batman walked up to and right past him, "Where is Myers going?"

"Home," Batman replied simply, not breaking stride as he continued down the hall and out of sight.


Across the bridge from Arkham Island was the poor neighborhood known as the Narrows. Homeless and vagrants wandered the streets outside boarded up and condemned buildings. They didn't notice as a hulking figure made its way silently through the shadows.

After a while, it stopped across the street from an old apartment building. It was boarded up and abandoned, with graffiti scrawled across its walls. Outside, a group of men stood conversing. They wore strange attire, their jackets and pants black on one half of their bodies and white on the other. Even their shoes were different colors. In addition, their hair was dyed so that half of it was white and the other half was black.

After a few moments, they entered the apartment building, unaware of the man watching them, before he melted into the shadows and disappeared.

Meanwhile, inside the apartment building, about six of the men had gathered into one of the apartments, lounging around, drinking and smoking pot. One was doing lines of cocaine off a rotten coffee table.

"So when do you think we'll hear from the boss again?" one of the men asked as he lounged on a moldy couch.

"Who the fuck knows?" another, sitting in a half destroyed arm chair, "Haven't heard a word from him after that bank job went south. Probably sitting in some hole in the wall, flipping his coin to try and figure out what to do next."

"Hey guys, check this shit out!" one of the men shouted from another room. Glancing at him, the other men saw one of their comrades had pulled a floor board out of the floor and was reaching into it. He pulled out an old pale white colored mask of a face, along with a reddish hair wig. It had large holes for the eyes and a completely neutral expression.

"The fuck is that?" one of the men asked.

"Looks like a mask," the one holding it said.

"No shit, it's a mask," the other one said as he got up and walked over to the other man, "I meant what the fuck is it doing there? Hell, what the fuck are you doing pulling up the floorboards for?"

"I didn't pull up the fucking floorboards," the man with the mask said, "They were already loose. I almost tripped over this one and when I looked down, I saw this fucking thing poking out."

"That isn't the only thing there," a third man said as he walked over and reached into the hole before pulling out a kitchen knife. It seemed like the knife had been there for years, its blade dull and pocked with rust, along with half of the knife being caked in some kind of brown gunk.

"Is that blood?" a fourth man asked.

"The fuck happened here?" the fifth questioned.

"Well, while you guys solve that problem, I'm going to go take a piss," the sixth man said.

"Where the fuck are you going to do that?" the first man asked, "The shitter is broken."

"I'll find a way," the man replied before walking out of the front door and around the corner. Walking up to a corner of the apartment hallway, he unzipped his pants before he began to relieve himself against the wall. He sighed in relief as he leaned back, unaware of the figure looming behind him.

As if sensing something, the gang member glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening in fear and his blood running cold.

"Who the fuck-" he began but was cut off when the man reached out and palmed the gang member's head before slamming it against the wall. Blood began to trickle down the back of the gang member's head as the man pulled back and slammed his head against the wall again, smashing the gang member's head through the wall.

"The fuck is going on out there!?" one of the gang members exclaimed as he and the others rushed out into the hall, finding their comrade hanging from the hole his head was imbedded in.

"Is he alright?" one of the men asked, looking at the gang member.

"He's alive but knocked out," another said, checking the man's pulse.

"Who the fuck did this?" a third man asked.

"Who the fuck do you think?" a fourth said, panicked, "It's the fucking Bat!"

"Why the fuck would the Bat be here?" the fifth man asked.

"Did you already forget the job we pulled with the boss?" the first man asked, "He's probably looking for him."

"But we don't know where the fuck he is," the second man stated.

"That won't stop Batman from beating the shit out of us," the third man argued.

"Come on!" the fourth shouted as he turned to run away, "Get back to the fucking apartment and grab your guns!"

The five men rushed back the way they had come, leaving their fellow gang member hanging from the hole in the wall. They rushed into the apartment, only to find someone had beaten them inside.

Looming over the hole in the floor, Michael Myers was cast in shadow, appearing as nothing more than a shadowy shape silhouetted by the light coming from the street light outside. He held in the mask in one of his hands, the rusty knife in the other.

"Who the fuck are you!?" one of the gang members asked, his blood running cold from the shock of seeing Michael standing there. Michael said nothing, instead looking at the mask in his hand.

"Hey!" the gang member shouted again, "I'm talking to you, motherfucker!"

Michael continued to say nothing, staring at the mask, putting the five men on edge.

"The fuck is wrong with this guy?" one of the gang members asked another.

"Fuck if I know," the other man replied back, "But Batman he ain't."

As the men talked, Michael brought the mask up to his head and put it on, the mask fitting like an old glove, practically forming to his face.

"Don't you fucking ignore me!" the gang member said, grabbing a knife from a coffee table as he walked up to Michael, "I'll fucking gut you!"

Before anyone knew what had happened, Michael reached out and grabbed the man by his hair before yanking his head back hard and driving the rusty knife into his neck with his other hand. The gang member's eyes widened in shock and he gurgled in pain as he flailed at the knife, blood shooting out of the wound, soaking Michael's white linen shirt. After a few moments, Michael passively pulled the knife back out before letting go, allowing the gang member to collapse to the floor, his blood pouring out of his neck and pooling around him.

"H-Holy fucking shit!" one of the gang members shouted, "He fucking shanked him!"

"Waste him!" another shouted as the four men scrambled for weapons.

One man grabbed a length of lead pipe and rushed at Michael with the weapon held high. Seeing the man coming, Michael reached up and grabbed the man by the wrist. He gripped it tightly, making a loud cracking sound as the man's wrist shattered before he gave it a sharp twist, causing bone spurs to pierce the gang member's skin from the inside. The man screamed in pain as blood poured down his wrist. He was silenced however as Myers drove his knife through his jaw and up into his skull. The gang member spasmed for a few moments as blood flowed from the wounds in his wrist and throat before going still. Michael attempted to pull his knife out of the man's neck, but the rusty blade had caught on flesh and bone.

At the same time, another gang member grabbed a switch blade and charged at Michael. Turning, Michael threw the corpse of the gang member at the man, knocking him to the ground. As the man struggled to get the corpse off of him, Michael walked over to stand above his head. As the gang member looked on in horror, Michael lifted his foot up before smashing it down onto the man's head with a loud crack. The gang member groaned in pain, unable to defend himself as Michael stomped on his head again, caving the side in, causing blood to leak out of the wound as well as his ears and eyes.

Michael lifted his bloody foot from the man's head as he heard a clicking sound on the other side of the room. Turning, Michael saw the remaining two gang members picking up handguns and leveling them at him. Glancing down, Michael saw the old couch sitting between him and the gang members. He quickly lifted his bloody foot up and braced it against the couch before kicking it. The couch skidded across the wooden floor before catching on one of the floorboards, sending it tumbling the rest of the way. It crashed into the two men, pinning them against the wall, forcing the men to drop their guns as they cried out in agony.

As the two men tried to free themselves, Michael reached down and picked up the lead pipe that the other gang member had tried to attack him with. As the gang members continued to struggle to free themselves, Michael walked up to one of them, grabbed the man by the hair and bashed it against his head. The man's head burst like a ripe melon, sending blood and bits of bone flying through the air. The man's eyes rolled into the back of his head, but Michael paid no notice as he bashed the man's head again, causing his skull to split further as the man fell against the couch, his blood soaking into the fabric.

As Michael murdered his fellow gang member, the last man managed to pull himself out from behind the couch and was desperately trying to limp away on his injured legs. Michael watched the man with a curious fascination, the mask covering his eyes in such a way that they appeared to be black holes. Slowly, he made his way over to the man, who desperately tried to crawl away. Michael reached down and grabbed him by his hair before slamming the man's head against the floor, cracking the wood, and cutting the man's head, causing blood to pour down across his face and down onto the floor. Pulling his head back up, Michael slammed it down again, breaking the floorboard. Lifting up the pipe, he smashed it against the gang members head, splattering it open and sending blood flying over the floor while more oozed out of the wound into the hole Michael had created.

Michael slowly stood up and observed the carnage he had created. He trudged over to the hole that had contained his mask, before reaching in and pulling something else out. It was a picture, a photograph that had faded with age. It depicted a family of five, sitting on the steps of the apartment building, which looked cleaner in the picture. There was a man, with shaggy brown hair and a brown goatee, accompanied by brown eyes. He wore a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up along with a pair of jeans and brown work boots. He had his arm wrapped around a woman's shoulder. She had long brown hair and brown eyes, and appeared roughly the same age as the man. She wore a white blouse along with blue jeans and white tennis shoes. In her hands she held a bundled up infant. Along with them were two children. One was a teenaged girl, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She had brown eyes like the two adults and wore a blue vest over a red long sleeve t-shirt along with a faded pair of jeans and white sneakers.

What caught his attention however was the young boy dressed in a dirty white t-shirt, brown pants and red sneakers. He appeared to be around ten years old with wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes. The same eyes that Michael looked at the picture with. After studying the image of his younger self for a few moments, Michael turned the photo over, studied it for a moment before dropping it back in the hole and leaving, not sparing a second glance to the carnage he had caused.


Red and blue lights flashed through the windows as police officers observed the scene within the apartment. The bodies of the gang members had been covered with sheets, which had begun to soak in the blood. Batman loomed in the middle of the room, standing over the last remaining gang member, who had been pulled from where he had been stuck in the wall and was slowly coming to, his hands cuffed behind his back. The commissioner stood next to him, a grim look on his face.

"What happened here?" Batman demanded as the gang member looked up at him.

"Man, I don't fucking know," the man replied groggily, "When I got jumped out in the hall, I thought it was you coming to take us down. I'm sure my guys thought the same thing, until whatever the fuck that freak was tore them apart."

"Did you see anything?" Batman questioned.

"I saw something, but fuck if I know what it was," the man explained, "Just some kind of…shape in the dark. Then the next thing I knew, I was eating dry wall."

"Hey Commish," a voice said, catching their attention, "I think you and the Bat ought to take a look at this."

Looking over to the source of the voice, the two of them saw a man kneeling over a hole in the floor. He was middle-aged, with short, dirty black hair and brown eyes. He had a heavy set physique, dressed in a white button up shirt, a black tie, brown slacks held up by a leather belt, brown leather shoes, a tan colored trench coat and a matching fedora on his head. A lit cigar was chomped between his teeth, smoke rising from it as he studied the photograph he held in his hand.

"What have you got there, Harvey?" Gordon asked as he and Batman moved over to the man.

"Don't know, Commish," Harvey replied, "Looks like a family picture, but I got no idea what it's doing here."

"I do," Batman stated, reaching out and taking the photo so that he could get a better look at it, "This is Michael Myer's family."

"His family?" Harvey questioned, "So this is his house or something?"

Batman nodded in reply.

"Makes sense he would return to the scene of the crime," Gordon stated.

"Scene of the crime?" Harvey asked.

"The reason Michael Myers was locked up was on a Halloween night when he was just a boy, no older than he was in this picture, he murdered his step-father, sister and her boyfriend," Batman explained.

"Murdered them? What the hell for?" Harvey asked, astounded.

"You'd have to ask his psychologist about that," Gordon replied, "As far as anyone could tell, he did it because he could."

"Geez, no wonder the Joker liked this guy," Harvey commented, taking his hat off and running his hand through his hair, "Where do you think he went?"

"My bet is he's looking to finish the job he started," Gordon surmised.

"So you think he's going to try and kill the rest of his family?" Harvey questioned.

"Seems likely," Batman replied.

"So shouldn't we warn them?" Harvey asked.

"The mother is dead," Gordon explained, "She committed suicide not long after Myers was imprisoned. As for the little girl, she was put up for adoption before the mother died and I don't think he can figure out where she went."

"I think he knows," Batman said ominously, looking at the back of the photo.

"How?" Gordon asked, surprised.

"His mother told him," Batman replied, turning the photo around, showing a hand written note on the back. Taking the photo, Gordon began to read it aloud.

"My dearest Michael," he read, "I pray that one day you can read this letter and hope it finds you in good health once again. I'm sorry that I couldn't wait for you but the pain and loss was just too much. I gave up your sister so that better parents could take care of her. Her name is Laurie now. Laurie Strode. I hope you can find her and you two can be a family again. Love, your mother."

"Christ," Harvey swore, "The stupid bitch gave him her name, he's probably tracking her down as we speak!"

"Batman, you have to…!" Gordon began, looking up from the photo, only to find Batman had vanished.

"Looks like he's already on the case, Commish," Harvey stated.

"Still, we should do our part too," Gordon replied, "Round everyone up and figure out where Laurie Strode lives. I want her protected before this maniac gets to her, I'm not losing anyone else tonight!"

A/N: Well, as you can tell, getting this all out by Halloween did not happen. Still, you all seemed to be enjoying the idea so I figured I'd continue it. As you can tell, this is going to be a very bloody story, keeping in style with the movies. I hope you all enjoy what's to come. Please review!