"Roman, I know you're upset. But there will be other movies. I got a great script on my desk, I'm thinking you for director–"
John Milton, the head of the studio, stopped talking into the phone and glanced over at the clock that signalled it was 11 PM when there came a sudden knock on the door to his office. "I gotta go. I'll call you later."
Just as he hung up, Gale and Jennifer barged inside unannounced like they owned the place. "So you know (Y/N) (L/N)'s mother."
The man simply glared furiously at the two with his red eyes that were from lack of sleep, bothered by the sudden intrusion. "Just what the hell do you people think you're doing, barging in here like this? I've got important calls to make. I run this studio."
"Answer the question. You knew (Y/N)'s mom?" Gale demanded in return, not backing down from his intense stare.
"Who?" His voice piqued in confusion, yet sounding stern at the same time.
"Prescilla Prescott."
Milton scrunched up his nose as he stopped pacing back and forth in front of the large windows that overlooked the city. "Do you know how many actors have worked for me? Hundreds, thousands."
Gale was quick to counter smugly, her eyes gleaming as she did. "Nobody said she was an actor."
"Nice catch," Jennifer tried to sound firm but there was clear humour evident in the undertone of her voice.
"What's your point?" Milton argued, his face dropping into a harsher confused frown as he kept his eyes trained on them. "She was a player in a couple of my movies. A nobody! So what does it matter?"
Jennifer scoffed as she smacked the palms of her hands on the desk. "Oh, come on. You made millions off the story of her daughter you're obsessed with! Of course you know her!"
"Why don't you tell us the truth?" Gale pushed further. "Just what happened to Prescilla when she was in Hollywood?"
"Now you listen to me, Lois Lane, let it go," his eyes snapped at her. "It's dead and buried. Daddy took ol' Yeller out behind the barn and shot him in the head a long time ago."
Gale's lips stretched out into a small, fake smile. "Well how about you like his rotten carcass dug up and drug all over National TV? Why don't you start talking."
Milton groaned as he tried picking his words, eventually giving in with a sigh. "It was in the 70s, everything was different. I was well known for my parties, Prescilla knew what they were. It was for girls like her to meet men, men who could get them parts, if they made the right impression. Nothing happened to her that she didn't invite."
"Are you saying she was–"
"I"m saying things got out of hand," Gale was stopped mid sentence as the director of the studio elaborated further. "Maybe they did take advantage of her. Maybe the sad truth is, this is not the city for innocence. And the bottom line is, Prescilla Prescott wouldn't play by the rules. You wanna get ahead in Hollywood, you gotta play the game or go home."
About an hour passed when everyone in the building went home for the night, and Milton was walking down the dark, desolate hallway just as his phone rang.
He reluctantly answered it while pushing the elevator's 'up' button anxiously. "John Milton, how can I help you?"
"Wanna play a game?"
The harsh but not unattractive voice triggered unlawful goosebumps on his skin as he shook his head with a puzzled expression. "You trying to be Jigsaw or somn'? Who's this?"
"You tell me. You bankrolled three movies about me."
"It's you!" The man snipped under his breath as he tensed up, not letting the other person to respond. "The saboteur whose been fucking up my movie! I swear to God if you don't stop I'll find you and have you killed! I shut down production on that piece of shit STAB 3! We had a no talent director and the lousiest (Y/N) (L/N) on the planet. You killed MY movie. My next one will be a huge step up from this slasher shit."
There came a sinister chuckle from the other end, followed by the very last words he'd ever hear alive. "Oh, poor John. There's not gonna be another film."
*Ping*
Just as the elevator door opened, there was a flash of silver and in an instant, Milton's throat was slashed wide open in a quick and precise movement, his blood spilling all over the walls as his corpse slinked to the floor, before a pair of hands dragged him back into the elevator.
-
Meanwhile, Gale was busy trying to get a locked drawer in Milton's desk open by using the back of a flashlight as she brought it down, smashing the lock off— a trick she'd learned from Dewey.
As she slid the drawer open and delved inside, she pulled up a manilla folder, opened it up and read what was inside.
"Well? What did you find?" Asked Jennifer, who was with her inside the nearly pitch black room, save for the moonlight streaming inside the room via the windows.
Gale's eyes widened. "Paternity test results. Christ, you're never going to believe who Milton's kid is."
"I got a bad feeling..." Jennifer's voice slowly turned to that of shivering panic as her muscles tensed up.
The other woman waved her off with one hand."Not now!"
"Gale, there is someone else in the fucking room!"
Now this caught her attention.
As soon as Jennifer warned her, Ghostface emerged from the shadows.
Jennifer dashed for the door but before she could reach it, the killer mercilessly jammed the knife into her spine, causing her to scream in agony before dropping to the floor motionless.
His blade glistened in the moonlight before he charged for Gale who screamed in fright and sprinted out of the office door, slamming it closed on the killer who landed on his back.
Racing through the hallway, she frantically tried every door she passed, but all of them were locked.
Just as she reached the elevator and hit the 'down' button, the door opened with a ping and Gale let out yet another horrendous scream when she saw Milton had been strung up from the ceiling ventilation duct, gutted, his entrails laying in steaming heaps at his feet.
Gale staggered away from the disgusting sight, speechless as her breathing hitched in fright, until she spotted the figure coming straight at her.
She faked him out by diving into the elevator. Just as he ran ahead, briefly, it gave Gale enough time to trip him and send him landing flat on his face.
Dashing back out of the elevator with her adrenaline pumping, she flew down the stairs and stormed out of the massive building as fast as her legs could carry her.
Before even being able to make a decision in which direction she would go, a blaring car horn made her shriek in surprise.
It was Kincaid who jammed on the breaks of his car and drawed out his gun, his visage morphed into visible concern. "Jesus Gale, what happened?"
"He killed Milton! The killer's inside there!"
"Alright, calm down. I'm going to radio for back up right now–"
"Not so fast," came a low snarl from behind them. "We're not finished."
Kincaid turned to see Ghostface charging out from the shadows but was too late as he got his throat sliced open, followed by a quick stab to the chest.
Gale's muscles seemed to stop working, watching in utter terror as Kincaid's eyes rolled back into his head and his body slumped lifelessly onto the hood of his car, smearing fresh blood all over it in the process.
She screamed hysterically as the killer mocked her by playfully tossing the knife from one hand to another. "I wouldn't run if I were you, Gale. It's only gonna end up with you getting gutted like a fucking fish. I need you."
With each cautious step she took backwards, Ghostface strud forwards, not intending on letting her escape as his black robes sweeped behind him with each move.
Still, in typical Gale Weathers fashion, she took a sarcastic jab at him. "Awfully late to be doing an interview."
The second she turned to make a break for it, he flipped the weapon around in his hand and cracked the base of the knife across her skull, staring unimpressed as she dropped unconscious.