Sing ye Neverborn of the Bringer of Rain, the Golden One, and use small words so peabrain corpse-worshippers and the brave fools who bite the ankles of the Gods can understand.

The year, 2057. The Shape, Laurie Strode, the tradition of Halloween - all dead and gone. Not a trace of them remains, not a memory in a living brain. For nearly 40 years the Polis of Haddonfield has known peace, but on the anniversary of Michael Myers's birth, the murders begin anew, and only one newbie cop notices. Is he returned?