final girl, stu macher

𝐬𝐢𝐱, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙮𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙

Dewey shook his head, waving the girls off for the time being. "Come on, we have to catch up to Sid at LAPD."

Gale squinted, watching the car that Sid sat in whale off in the distance. She shook it off, unfolding a sheet of paper in her hand and shoving it at Dewey. "Take a look at this, first. Someone we know?"

Kim's brow shot up, reaching over Dewey's shoulder and snatching it from his fingers. "Where'd you get this?"

"Archives."

Kim shot her an odd look. Mrs. Prescott worked at Sunrise Studios?
"Sidney's mother was an actress in her twenties. Three movies."

"Horror movies." Jennifer added.

"Can you guess who directed them all?"

Roman was standing in John Milton, his advisor's, office. He looked distraugh and was pacing the room back and forth.

"There'l be other movies, Roman."

Roman shook his head, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Not only did they kill the film, but they killed my cast! Now, nobody is going to want ot work with me. Variety called me a pariah, and I don't even know what that means! Why could't they kill the cast of Stab 1, or Stab 2? Why me? What, John, what did we do wrong?"
Milton shrugged, organizing the handful of papers that sat on his desk. "Hollywood is full of criminals who's carrers are flourishing." He shrugged.

Roman's arms flung up into the air. "I'm not a criminal. I was questioned, yeah, but that's all. I was questioned, that's it!" He cried.

"It's good for your mystique."

Roman scoffed, pausing his stance in front of Miltons desk. "You think it'll help me get work?" He asked softly. Milton couldn't answer when instead, his office door flew open, and four bodies stepped into the room.

"Roman, John." Jennifer greeted, crossing her arms politley.

"Jenniffer, other guests." Milton waved back, only his voice coated a little more disaproval. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Gale leaned her arms on the mans desk, giving him a look. "Rina Reynolds." She mumbled.

Milton's face immediately flipped, and he turned over to Roman. "Why don't you head down to the house," he gestured. "Tell everyone not to cut the cake without me." He said.

Jennifers hand flew to her mouth as she turned herself over at Roman. "Oh, god! I forgot, your birthday!" Her hands clamped together, saying she was sorry. "Happy birthday, Roman."

Roman tossed her a pity smile, his hands on his hips as he began to push past the group to get to the door. "Yeah, yeah. As if life isn't tragic enough."

Kimberly watched him past her. She felt bad, now. Her fingertips grazed his shoulder, causing him to stop walking momentarily. "Happy birthday." She told him. He inhaled, his headtilted as he threw her a greatful nod and left.

Milton turned his attention back to the four in front of his desk. "Who?" He asked, pretending to be clueless.

"Now, remember, John. You're a director, not an actor. So, cut the shit." Kim snapped, stepping out from the line the four made.

"Um, do you know how many actress have worked for me? Hundreds, maybe even thousands."

Kim scoffed, reading his facial expressions up and down. "We never said she was an actress."

Gale frowned, proud of her little mini detective. "Good catch."

"So? Whats the point?"

Now, Dewey stepped in front, pushing Kim away. "Oh, no point. I'm just gonna shoot Detecitve Kincaid a call."
Milton slammed his pencil on the table top, obviously defeated. "I remember her! She was a bit player in a couple of my movies, a nobody, So, what does it matter?"

Milton slammed his pencil on the table top, obviously defeated. "I remember her! She was a bit player in a couple of my movies, a nobody, so what does it matter?"

Jennifer waved her pointer at the old man. "Oh, please! You've made millions off the story of her murder. You'e obssessed with her, and your obssessed with her daughter!"

Gale grabbed Jennifer's wrist and pulled her pointed finger down, "alright, easy, geraldo." she turned back to Milton. "Why don't you tell us the truth?"

Milton tossed his arms in the air. "What're you getting at? I make horror films, that's what I do. The studio came to me with Stab." His eyes scanned all of their uneasy glares. "Check into it, they came to me!" He repeated.

Kim crossed her arms, watching the pathetic man wave around his arms. "But, you knew her."

The balding man, sighed. "When I first directed Stab, I realized I'd known Maureen Prescott before— as Rina, I mean. I couldn't tell anyone, could you imagine the press?"

"And now? I mean, murders on your set and you still say nothing?"

He scoffed, "get real! That would make me a suspect."

Kim leaned over, placing her hands on hs desktop and putting her weight in them. "It'd make you a suspect. . .because you knew her?"

"Yeah!"

Gale dug her hands to her hips. Squinting her eyes, she snapped at the director. "I don't think so! Just what happened to Maureen when she was in Hollywood?"
Milton stood up, causing Kimberly to sit up and back away from his desk. "Now, you listen here, Lois Lane. It's been dead and burried."

Gale stepped close by half of an inch. "Yeah? Well, how would you like to see it dug up on national TV? Why don't you tell us what happened?" She threatened.

"It was in the 70's, everything was different. I was well known for my parties, and Rina knew what they were. They were for girls like her to meet men, men who could score them parts- if they made the right impression. Nothing happened to her that she didn't invite, in some war or another. No matter what she said afterwards."

Then, it dawned on Kimberly. Of course, she had already known just what had probably happened to Maureen, and now it had been confirmed. Maureen had been assaulted, and no one would help her. "She was raped—"

Mitlon cut her off, gasping loudly. "I'm just saying things got out of hand! Maybe they did take advantage of her, or maybe the sad truth is; this is not the city for innocence. No charges were brough, and the bottom line is, Rina Reynolds wouldn't play by the rules. If you wanna get ahead in Hollywood, you have to play the game or go home."

Kimberly's teeth gritted a moment of silence past. Kim was the first to move, stomping her foot and turning on the heel. She was boiling.