Detective Kincaid was pacing back and forth in his office with a battered and bruised Gale sitting near the wall, wearing a police officer unform since her previous outfit had been absolutely cremated.
"Ok, look. We all know that this has something to do with STAB 3. What we don't know is why the killer keeps leaving articles about Helene (L/N)," Gale said, running a finger around the rim of the hot drink she was holding.
"Actually, there was more this time. We found a picture too."
She raised her chin incredulously. "What?"
Kincaid held up a second ziplocked evidence bag. Within it was a 5x4 of your mother exiting a hotel room with Cotton Weary.
Then he flashed her the backside that had 'WE KILLED HER' written on it as his jaw tensed. "It seems we really are dealing with multiple killers here."
"So (Y/N) was right," Gale surmised, dipping her head to get a better look. "Those lovesick bastards really are back, huh. But why would they leave pictures of her mother? It doesn't add up. I've seen those two goonfucks, they think with their dick and not with their brain."
"Where is Miss (L/N) right now?"
"In a nearby hotel. She hasn't come out of the room since we were almost charcoaled." Gale eyed the clock, standing up from the chair she'd been sitting in. "I gotta go. There's something I wanna check out."
"Mind filling me in?" Kincaid asked with a curious inflection in his voice, but she'd already brushed past the Detective.
"No time!"
About an hour later, Gale was banging on a metal door to try and gain access to the small building in front of her, but got no luck.
It took her no less than five minutes to notice the card lock hanging next to it with a the sign reading 'AUTHORITIZED PERSONEL ONLY'.
Like that had ever stopped her before.
Reaching into her hand bag, she pulled out a couple of credit cards, but nothing worked.
Someone grabbing her from behind by the shoulder made her shriek in surprise, only to see Jennifer standing there who was scratching her head. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Being Gale Weathers. What the hell are you doing?"
The actual Gale Weathers clenched her jaw and hissed, looking irate. "I am Gale Weathers!"
"Here's how I see it. I've got no house, no movie, no gun, and I'm being stalked. Because someone wants to kill me? No, because someone wants to kill you," Jennifer blabbered incoherently. "So now, starting now, I go where you go. That way, if someone wants to kill me, I'll be with you so they won't kill me. Make sense?"
"None."
The actress clicked her tongue as she nudged her head to the door. "Need to get into that building?"
Gale flicked her eyes to the locked room as Jennifer arrogantly presented her a Sunrise Key Card. "Gale Weathers would find a way."
Holding her hands up in mock surrender as she blew out a conceding huff, Gale followed Jennifer in before the door shut omniously behind them with a loud clank.
As they walked down the barely lit basement stairs, they found a middle aged lady sitting behind a faraway desk doing paperwork.
Sensing someone else's presence, the woman stopped what she was doing and stared up at Gale and Jennifer unenthused. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Gale Weathers, author of the Woodsboro and Windsor College murders, and anchorwoman for Total Entertainment," she gloated. "Maybe you've heard of me?"
Bianca shook her head no, her hair falling in random strands in front of her forehead. "I don't watch TV and I hate books. Whatta you need?"
Gale gave the woman a look that yelled she was an extremely boring individual and pouted. "Does the name Helene (L/N) ring a bell?"
"Nope."
Letting out a groan, she delved into her pocket and slammed down the picture of your mother standing beside Maureen Prescott in front of the woman. "Can you tell me if she looks familiar to you?"
"Listen, I'm busy. Nobody has access to those files except studio execs. Can you please go away now?"
Gale set her palms down flat on the table as she slapped a twenty dollar bill on it in hopes of bribing her. "Well if you won't work for me, will you work for the president?"
Both sides held a cold glare directed at each other. Bianca then tipped her glasses down the bridge of her nose to look at Gale over the rim of her glasses, before shoving the money back into her direction. "The president of the studio."
Jennifer's nose wrinkled as she scoffed. "Twenty dollars? Who are you, Nancy Drew?" Then, she turned to Bianca and took off her ring, throwing it into her lap. "Go ahead. It's worth three grand, easy."
There was a pause before the woman smiled as she slipped the piece of jewelry over her finger. "Follow me."
She then lead them into the archive section while peeking at the picture and flipping through the file cabinet. "I know every face in here, respect for the unknown actor I suppose, myself included. If you're looking for Helene (L/N) you won't find her. Prescilla Prescott however, you will."
"Prescott?!" Gale gawked at the woman, appearing like her stomach just tried to fly clean out of her body.
She took the folder from Bianca and opened it up. Inside were 8x10 headshots of your mother when she was younger.
Behind the pictures was a Xeroxed listing of films she had starred in. She gulped. "Did you say... Prescott?"
Bianca nodded, tapping her finger on the two faces on the photograph. "You didn't see the similarity? They were sisters."
-
"Stu."
"Yeah?"
"... Get the fuck off of me!"
"But I'm enjoying the view–"
"Now!"
As soon as the weight was lifted from his shoulders, Billy got up to his feet, cracking his neck and shoulders as he growled in annoyance. "Has anyone ever told you you're heavy as shit?"
Stu frowned, ready to argue him like a toddler. "Has anyone ever told you you're a grumpy bi-"
"Don't finish that," Billy stopped him with a warningly low voice, his piercing eyes shifting to that of malice. "Don't finish that sentence."
Unbothered, Stu stuck his tongue out as his friend lost his temper. It really was all too easy to rile him up.
"Whatever, dude. What are we gonna do now that Gale Weathers knows? Can't we just kill her?" The taller boy whined, sounding as if killing someone was as easy as ordering food.
Which just might be the case for them, at this point.
"Nah, let her. Y'know she's too dumb to do anything useful with it anyway."
Stu cackled, nearly going red with laughter while he followed Billy's example of resting his head against the brick wall, near the window they had been spying through. "She's got a killer body, though."
Billy raised a brow at him, flopping his head forward. "I thought you were loyal to (Y/N)?"
"I am!" Stu protested. "But a man can look. Her face is a turn off anyway, she looks like a clown with those bruises, fucking gross..."
The corners of Billy's mouth lifted up slightly in amusement as he scoffed. "Like you're one to talk. You can join her in the circus with that red ass nose of yours."
Stu wasn't wrong, though. The woman appeared like she came straight out of a boxing match but all in all, she was extremely lucky to be alive.
The same could be said about you, honestly.
Stu glared at his friend. "That was meaaaan, man..." But the look of hurt pride on his face changed into an eager grin as he smacked his hands together and rubbed them."I dunno about you, Billy, but I'm fuckin' excited to gut some people."
Billy knew Stu like the back of his hand. Goofy and dumb on the outside, but really was the definition of a wolf in sheep's clothing.
He'd changed a lot. Even though Stu never admitted it, it wasn't hard to tell that he had been nervous and was having second thoughts around the time of Maureen's murder.
Call it bad influence.
Billy sat with one leg pulled to his chest as his chin was resting in the palm of his hand, staring out into the darkening nothingness in front of them as he clenched his jaw periodically.
Itnwas one of these rare times where henwas strangely at ease but knowing Stu, the dipshit would ruin his good mood sooner or later.
All the guy needed to do was whine about how much he wanted to hold you like he did everyday, without exaggeration.
And every day he'd get the same reply.
Stu's obnoxiously loud chewing noises were starting to get on his nerves, though. It was like the man was born to piss Billy off in everything he did.
"Fry?" Stu offered with a mouth full of food, extending the little box out to him.
Billy scowled at him and rolled his eyes but took one out anyway. "How did you even get those?"
"Stole 'em," Stu piped up, happily chucking another fry into his mouth.
Of course he did.
If there was one thing bigger than Macher's mouth, it was his stomach.