"ᴡᴇʟʟ, ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɢᴜᴛᴛᴇᴅ ɴᴇxᴛ, ʜᴜʜ, ᴠɪʀɢɪɴ ᴍᴏʟʟʏ?"
"ꜱʜᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴜᴘ, ꜱᴛᴜ!"
•••
|| 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 . . . . according to the rules of horror movies, Molly Birist isn't going to last long in this real life thriller, or that's...
If it hadn't already, this would have been the moment when Molly's life came crashing down in a heaping pile of flames and rubble.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't cry. She couldn't even stand.
Molly's legs turned to jelly almost immediately, and she had to brace herself against Billy's chair to keep her from collapsing. She let out a shakey breath, her mouth went bone dry.
Billy was incredibly tense. He'd frozen immediately, and his hands clenched in fists. Sidney had gasped and taken a few staggering steps backward in shock.
Monty Lipton stood in front of them all for the first time since 1996. He stood with an uneasily calm expression on his face, and a smirk that sent shivers down their spines. He didn't say anything for a moment, and just let the three stare at him with wide, fearful eyes, taking their reactions in with satisfaction.
He took the glove of his right hand off, then waved to them. He jerked his eyebrows a little before looking down to his left hand and taking that glove off as well.
"Look at this...hell of a reunion. Am I right?" Monty looked back up again. "You know, we always did talk about having a get together after college...there's a few of us missing, though." He tossed the gloves over his shoulder like a balled up piece of trash. His voice went cold. "Shame."
"...H-...H-how..." Was all that managed to come from Sidney's mouth, as the other two were petrified.
Monty's eyes flickered to her. "Use your words, Sid."
Sidney swallowed. "H-How are...you here?" There was uncertainty in her voice.
A small smirk played at the corner of Monty's lips. "I don't think that's the question you should be asking, Sid." He pulled the Ghostface robe off of him; he wore blue jeans that were about two sizes too tight, and a white wife-beater that was stained red with blood in some places, particularly near a stab wound in the back of his shoulder. "What you should be asking...is why am I here?"
Molly had finally managed to get rid of the dryness in her mouth by the time he said that.
"Well?" She said suddenly, causing the eyes to turn on her. Her fear was subtle in her voice. "Why? Why're you here? You couldn't stop with one bloodbath?"
Monty studied her for a moment, a moment that felt like ages. Then his smirk grew just a little wider. "Did you ever take me as such an easy man to satisfy, Molly?"
It was as if they had fallen back into their old habits of patronizing each other, as if the past four years had not happened, as if they had not tries to kill one another.
"You'll find out soon, Molly. I can promise you that." Monty told her. Then he glanced over to Roman, nodding that he was done for now.
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In the livingroom of John Milton's mansion, Dewey had managed to free himself from the ropes around his wrists. He jumped up from his chair and immediately went to Gale, beginning to untie the ropes restraining her. Once she was free, Dewey pulled her up out of her seat, and then the two of them rushed over to Kincaid, who was panting on the floor near the fireplace, wounded and in pain.
