Cultivation of Evil | Hannibal Films X Halloween

Freedom

"I'm sorry, Michael. This may be the last time we're able to speak like this."

Dr. Lecter stood in the interview room, he knew the FBI were onto him and that he'd be caught soon.

But he wouldn't go quietly. At least not without stirring things up a touch.

"I don't believe this will be our last meeting, Michael but i brought a little something for you to remember me by. I had to leave it in the lobby or it'd be searched but I think I might know how to give it to you."

In his peripheral, Lecter saw Will Graham peaking through the door.

Hannibal walked around the table without letting on he saw him.

He reached out and shook Michael's hand, hiding the true intention of slipping him a pin to unlock the handcuffs with.

"Happy Halloween, Michael."

He withdrew his hand and started to rummage in his inside picket while Michael began to pick the cuffs free.

Even when the door burst open, Michael didn't bat an eye.

Hannibal kept them talking in time for Michael to take the restraints off and begin his blood soaked journey that brought him here, to the lobby.

He held up the mask he lifted from Lecter's bag.

He recalled a conversation he had with Dr. Lecter. Or, more accurately, Dr. Lecter had with him.

"Do you know what the face of the boogeyman looks like, Michael? It depends on who you ask, of course, but one might ask a hundred people and cojure a very similar image each time."

The crowd behind Michael saw him pull the thick mask over his head before walking to the main doors which had opened from the fire alarm.

He stood at the threshold.

He lifted one foot out, seemingly hesitated and for the first time in twelve years, walked as a free man.

As soon as he took his first step, the crowd behind him, who been still and silent from the moment he grabbed the mask, erupted into manic laughter and howling as they charged out from around him but never entering arms length of him.

Before long, Michael stood alone except for one that same girl standing a little too close to be considered socially acceptable. Not there was anything acceptable about this scene.

Dozens of mental patients ran around the outside of the asylum, a fire alarm blared endlessly and a large man wearing a hellish mask stood covered in blood.

Michael looked around, surveying the scene and spotted to black SUVs parked in front. Likely the FBI's.

He moved to the nearest one and walked around to the driver's side door, examining through the window.

The girl that followed couldn't work out if he was intelligently analysing or childishly curious.

"I-I know h-how to h-hotwire a c-c-car."

She spoke quietly and timidly. Barely audible over the alarm and screaming inmates.

Michael didn't seem to acknowledge her. She watched as his fist was clenching and stretching endlessly before he began to punch the glass window with loud grunts.

On the first blow, a spider web like crack formed where his fist landed and on the second the glass gave way and shattered into the seat.

He reached through the shattered window and opened the door.

He didn't move after that but looked at the girl. She wasn't sure what to do and was fearful of getting either killed by Michael or left behind for the police to take her back.