Michael Myers Without Mask Novels & Stories

Suddenly, Michael's eyes clouded with tears, and his fist clenched due to the remembrance of a thought. But in the next minute, he shook his head to calm down. He knew this wasn't the time to be thinking about what's lost or what's not. Michael nodded and picked up a red mask to hide his face, then drew a catchy black mole at the corner of his eyebrows. "Handsome," Michael smirked and purposely ruffled his hair to give him that playboy look. "Time to leave." Michael knew taking his phone with him might cause trouble for him in case Xavier decided to track his location, so without hesitation, he threw his phone on the sofa he was lying on.

Mikayla asked, already pulling on some gloves. "My scrotum," he deadpanned. Mikayla paused in the act of pulling on her gloves. "Your scrotum?" She repeated. "That's right. It shouldn't be weird for you to look at it seeing as you swing the other way," he said. "I--I don't swing the other way," Mikayla said then sighed. 'Oh, what did it matter?' She pulled on the glove, put on her facemask. "Let's get it over with then," she said.

"What happened to your masks?" I sighed, my heartbeat slowed to a painful rhythm. "The oxygen's run out. The only air left is contaminated with the toxin, that’s what the doctor was talking about earlier." Michael's eyes widened, and he got up to his feet. "What are you all waiting for, then?" he demanded, striding towards the warriors hammering at the wall, trying to break out of this place. I watched him go, then turned my attention back to James, who was still trapped in the dream world. Settling down on the floor next to him, I twined my fingers with his limp ones, offering a silent prayer.

He parted his lips to speak, but Doctor Mikes approached us with a smile on his face, causing us to give our argument a break. “What's with the smile on your face? My mate is in there and sick; you should be doing something,” I retorted as I felt the mask run out of patience.

Michael felt a chill down his spine as he looked at the masked contestant and said, "..." Damn, Leandro liked masks?

“I, uh… I just came for one last check-up—” Michael’s face morphs from playful to death-glare in half a heartbeat. He slowly, silently rises to his feet and reaches for the cap sitting on the chair. He slips it on, tugs it low over his eyes, and straightens like he’s no longer the man I was just playing with moments ago. “You won’t need to,” his tone is flat. The doctor blinks. “Excuse me?” “You won’t need to check anything. I’m fine. I’ve already signed the papers.” His voice is ice cold, seeping with hate. “Also, I’d suggest preparing your explanation for the panel about why you thought it was appropriate to enter without knocking. My wife looked uncomfortable.”

I am now wearing a yellow floral dress and a two-inches fuchsia-colored sandal while Michael is wearing a black blazer and underneath his expensive blazer is a white t-shirt, he is wearing slacks and white converse shoes. "I'm nervous, Michael. What if something wrong will happen in the ceremony? What if I messed up my speech? What if they don't want me to be their luna?" I asked Michael one question after another but he only responded with a simple smile and then he gently kissed my nape causing me to gasp and swallow my saliva when an alluring feeling comes rushing into my veins.

The fear was a living weight in my chest, making it hard to draw a full breath. The lock clicked. He had a key. Of course he did. The door opened. Michael stepped inside, closing it behind him. He looked the same as always; well-dressed, composed, that easy smile on his face. But his eyes were different now. Flat. Calculating. The mask had slipped. “Amarissa,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You left so quickly earlier. We weren’t finished.” I pressed my back against the wall, trying to keep my voice steady. “We were. I told you it was a mistake. I’m sorry if I offended you, but I’m done. Please leave.”

he instructed, his tone shifting into something softer but commanding. I didn't hesitate. I lowered my body, bringing my head down into the small space between us until I could rest my cheek firmly against his leg. The warmth of his muscle seeped through his trousers, providing a strange anchor against my panic. Michael reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a clean, dark handkerchief. With a slow, deliberate movement of his large hand, he draped the cloth gently over my exposed face, blocking out the bright stadium lights and the terrifying view of the crowd.

“President Larson, you have made a lot of impulsive decisions lately, including your engagement with Miss Garcia…” Michael remained silent. He had gotten engaged with Miss Garcia not because of the fight Christina had with his mother. It was because she said that there was no use crying over spilled milk. Christina detested him, and Serena was infertile because of him. He pitied her. That was when he realized he had nothing to lose if he proceeded with an engagement. Michael’s eyes darkened. “Have you found out who took the kid?” “No. Security footage in the hospital wasn’t too clear. That person wore a mask and hat too. We couldn’t make out his face at all,” Logan answered.