The bell rang as a scene ended. Jacqui straightened up in her co-director chair with a tired smile on her face. "Great, we finally got something done in the first take, only took half a fucking month." She yawned.
"Jacqueline, I wanted to talk with you about the rewrites."
Jacqui loudly groaned and rolled both her head and eyes back as she heard the voice. "World doesn't revolve around you, Sarah." Jacqui replied, continuing to flip through her script as she walked.
"I get that, but why do I still have to die naked?"
"Because." Was all Jacqui answered.
"Because why?"
"Because you're the one who signed up for a fucking Stab movie, Sarah!" Jacqui snapped. "I'm only the script and set supervisor, go talk to Roman, he's the one who wanted a Janet Leigh thing— where is Roman?"
Jacqui continued to look around in confusion before she spotted Roman standing with Milton while talking to the board of executives. Her eyes widened, immediately realizing that was bad news. "Shit on a—!" Jacqui quickly got up out of her seat, almost falling as she murmured the rest of her sentence under her breath, starting to make her way over to Roman in a quick walk.
"Jacqueline!" Sarah whined, but Jacqui didn't slow down in the slightest.
"Sarah!" Jacqui mocked back in the same tone without turning her head. While walking over she passed the mail box and stopped to look at 'Prescott' written on it, she harshly huffed. "Still not a fan of that font," she pointed before she continued to walk. "He said it would grow on me and it still hasn't."
"Look, you're worried about the movie, then protect the movie, okay?" Roman told the board of executives as Jacqui hopped the fence and walked over next to him. "Hire more security, hire the National Guard. Just don't kill the movie."
"Hey, woah, what's going on?" Jacqui asked.
"They wanna cancel Stab 3," Roman answered.
Jacqui's expression dropped and she turned back to the executives, staring at them for a moment before speaking. "WHAT?!" She unnecessarily and dramatically shouted out, definitely earning a few glances from people nearby around the set. "You can't cancel when we've gotten this far, are you kidding me?!"
"Violence in cinema is a big deal right now!" The executive told them. "This is not the kind of news this studio is after."
Roman sarcastically nodded along before talking. "So if we stop making scary movies, what? All the psychos in the world will retire?" He questioned, Jacqui put her hands on her hips. "Come on."
"I've been makin' horror movies for thirty years," Milton added. "Never had a psycho problem."
"He was your goddamn idea, guys. Alright?" Roman raised his voice a bit, Jacqui nodded along in agreeance as he continued. "An ex-con with a trashy talk show? He must've pissed people off every day!"
"Exactly," Jacqui moved her arms from her hips and folded them. "I knew Cotton, he was a cool guy — great even! But he has always been a target. People have wanted that man dead since 1995." Roman nodded along as she spoke. "Listen, I've went through this shit twice, if anyone should have a word in this it should be me." She turned back to Roman. "This is Michigan all over again."
"It is." He nodded in agreeance.
"What happened with Michigan?" Milton asked.
"Nothing," Jacqui said, shaking her head as Roman did the same. "You wouldn't get it."
Milton turned around to Detective Mark Kincaid and J. Wallace, who were walking around set. "Detectives," the two stopped to turn to him. "There's no reason to presume that Cotton's death . . . had anything to do with this movie, is there?" Milton asked.
Wallace looked up from his notepad. "He was making a movie called Stab. . . . He was stabbed."
"That's—" Jacqui took a breath, lowering her voice and looking to the others. "That's stupid. Don't blame it on cinema just because times change." She huffed a bit. "Speaking of time changing, shouldn't we just start giving the people on set stuff to protect themselves?" She suggested, Roman nodded along. "I have a gun in my bag."
He stopped nodding and furrowed his brows, the others also all giving her looks. "You do?"
Meanwhile, somewhere else on set, the actors sat around on the fake front porch of a fake house. "Probably some psycho fan pissed off they killed Randy in Stab 2." Tyson Fox told them, sitting on the steps.
"Well, Tyson, that'd make you next, wouldn't it?" Tom Prinze replied as Sarah walked through the door with her script in hand.
"I am not a Randy substitute. I'm my own character."
"Named Ricky, who works at the video store." Sarah reminded before sitting down on the outdoor chair.
"It's an homage." Tyson defended.
"Homage my ass. It's a last minute rewrite." Lindsay Berry corrected while tucking her braids behind her ear, she had been sitting on the railing. "They write it as Randy but realized bringin' him back ain't a smart idea after someone — you know who — complained about it, so they just changed his name and complexion to write off as someone new." She looked up from her script at Tyson. "Easy as that."
"Hey, what if the killer's Sidney Prescott?" Tom asked while sitting down on a crate, making Tyson chuckle. "I mean, what the hell ever happened to her? She's probably off in the woods . . . livin' like the fuckin' Unabomber, man."
"I'm starting to see why Tori Spelling, David Schwimmer, and Brandy didn't want to come back." Angelina Tyler muttered from next to Tyson.
"Enough with Brandy." Lindsay lowly growled.
"Calm down, nobody was making a comparison this time." Tom told her, she just groaned. She was very annoyed with the fact that her first big role was a recasting of an already very famous person.
"Yeah, but nobody would be targettin' Brandy right now and she'd be gettin' an award for this role." Lindsay pointed out. "That's right, I made the comparison this time! Y'all didn't have to!" She then angrily murmured a string of swears before Sarah spoke up.
"Guys, this was about Cotton. We are not in any danger."
""We are not in any danger," says Candy, page fifteen." Tyson read off the script, Lindsay chuckled.
"I don't see you leavin'." Sarah shot back.
"You think serious black actors my age can just throw away jobs?" Tyson asked. "It's all a business now. They got Usher doing Pinter off-Broadway. L.L. Cool J's Shakespearin' in the park." He made gestures with his hands.
"Amen," Lindsay agreed with him.
"Maybe it's not meant to be." Angelina lowly spoke.
"Not meant to be?" Tom questioned. "You win that talent search for the new Sidney. Fifty thousand girls and they pick you. . . . You gotta be praying this movie keeps going."
"Of course I am, but not at the expense of people's lives." She was losing her patience with him.
"Oh. Cue the violins, right?" Tom mocked, making Tyson laugh.
Farther away on set, Gale subtly walked into the Stab 3 set, taken aback by how exact the fake Woodsboro looked. "Jesus. Deja voodoo." She turned on the camera in her purse and tucked it beneath her arm.
Gale continued to walk but didn't make it far before someone ran up to her. "Gale Weathers! Oh, my God!"
Gale looked over at Jennifer Jolie and sighed. "Shit."
"I— Listen, I-I— I know we've never met . . . and I don't mind you never returning my calls, but I have to tell you . . . after two films, I feel like I am in your mind." Jennifer told her.
"Well, that would explain my constant headaches." Gale tried to continue walking as Jennifer walked with her, giving an awkward smile before fixing her hair.
"You know, I'm sorry things didn't work out on 60 Minutes II. But Total Entertainment, that's a pretty good fallback."
"Thank you." Gale stopped walking. "I'm sorry that things didn't work out with Brad Pitt . . . but being single, that's a pretty good fallback."
Jennifer tried not to take offense. "Gives me more time for my work. After all, Gale Weathers, you're such a complex character."
"Oh, and to be played by an actress with such depth and range." Gale sarcastically spoke, she turned to walk but quickly stopped.
"Uh, Jennifer, Nick said you wanted to—" Dewey also stopped when his eyes landed on her. "Gale."
"Dewey."
Dewey recollected himself. "Well, surprise, surprise. Someone dies and Gale comes running."
Jennifer walked over to stand next to Dewey. "Gale, I think you'll really appreciate my character work in this one. Someone's helped me understand the real you."
Gale looked between the two. "Someone?"
"Your ruthless ambition, your private self-loathing . . . and that lost and lonely little girl inside."
Gale stared before taking quick offense. "Lost and lonely what?"
"You heard me." Jennifer turned back to Dewey and took what he brought her. "Thanks, Dewey, I'll return it." She turned and walked off.
"Lost and lonely what?!" Gale shouted after her.
"Little girl inside." Dewey answered.
"I thought you were supposed to be in Woodsboro."
"Well, I'm surprised you thought about me at all." Dewey said, she gave him an annoyed look. "Listen, I gotta get back to work. I really don't have time for this." He went to walk off but was quickly stopped.
"Wait a minute. You work here?!" She asked in disbelief. "I knew Jacqui was, but you?"
"Yeah. The movie needed a technical advisor." Dewey explained as Lindsay Berry walked past him.
"Stab 3 needs a technical advisor the way Baywatch needs a marine biologist." Lindsay snarked without even looking at Dewey.
Dewey sighed at her comment, as if it wasn't the first time she mentioned how needing a technical advisor was stupid. "Point is, they needed someone who went through the real experience, knew the real people." Dewey told Gale. "Jacqui's here for the creative liberties since she's better with that. They said her opinions were 'too bias.'"
"Hey, Dewey." Tom Prinze nodded as he walked past the two, as if he was following Lindsay.
"Hey, Tom." Dewey nodded back.
Tom came to a stop and slowly turned back to Gale once he fully acknowledged she was there. "Hey! It's the real Gale Weathers." He walked forward.
"Real from top to bottom." She smiled.
"Tom Prinze." He held his hand out for her to shake. "I watch your show all the time. You're so right. Pop culture is the politics of the 21st century."
"Thank you." Gale nodded.
"And that story that you did . . . last month on me crashing my car? Wow, was that ever powerful journalism."
"Right, uh—"
"I especially liked the way you implied that it was caused by drinking and drugs," he sarcastically added on. "And that the tire blowout was faked. That was great."
Tom started walking away as Gale spoke up. "Tom, sometimes in journalism you have to—"
"Are you parked in the lot? 'Cause I should check to make sure . . . that nobody's messed with your brake line." Tom said before heading for the door.
Gale looked him up and down and focused back to Dewey. "Who's he supposed to be?" Dewey gestured to himself, Gale smiled. "He's playing you?! Him?!"
She continued to laugh as Dewey stared in offense. "What?"
Gale quieted down after a bit. "I did not come here to fight with you, Dewey. . . . Cotton's killer left a picture—"
"Of Sid's mom. The detectives told me."
Gale turned her head a bit and saw Jacqui from afar leaning next to a guy operating a camera as she watched the scene that was filmed. "Does she know yet?" Gale asked.
"I'm pretty sure the last thing Jacqui wants is to hear from you right now." Dewey remarked. "In fact, if she found out you were here she'd be very upset."
"She's still not over that?!" Gale asked in disbelief.
"Would you be?"
Gale didn't answer and instead rolled her eyes. "Well, does Sidney know about it?"
"Listen, Sidney doesn't need you and your camera in her life."
"Do you see a camera?" Gale asked. Dewey cleared his throat and looked down at her purse. Gale sighed. "Right. . . . You bought me this purse, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Look, it's-it's a habit." Gale uncomfortably shifted where she stood. "I-I walk outta the house, I turn it on—"
"What the fuck is going on here?!" The two quickly looked to see Jacqui storming over, enraged.
Gale awkwardly smiled as Jacqui stopped walking a few feet away from her, arms folded and a menacing glare on her face. "Jacqui, hey—" Gale tried to step forward a bit.
"You take one step closer to me, and I swear to God, I will mace you and then call security." Jacqui threatened.
Gale took the hint and stopped walking toward Jacqui. "Jacqui, I don't know what else you want from me, I'm sorry—"
"You made me sound like a psychopath!" Jacqui stopped Gale from continuing. "You made it sound like I was unhinged, pathetic, called me an axe murderer— you said I was one incident away from becoming Ghostface myself! Have you even seen what the media is already saying about me?! Some of the people here are even— . . ."
Jacqui stopped herself, tears started to appear in her eyes before she exhaled and put of her hands on her hips. "I've spent so much time defending you. Since Woodsboro I've sided with you and I still can't believe you would—" Jacqui harshly swallowed and scoffed. "And then you even kept frequent reports on me going back to addiction, said it wasn't even a shocker." She stopped herself again and sighed, looking down. "Fuck, Gale, why are you here?"
Gale huffed before answering. "I heard about Cotton,"
"Oh, really?" Jacqui sarcastically asked, then switching back to a glare. "Wow, that's crazy, because I'm pretty sure everyone else on the fucking planet has too!" She raised her voice suddenly, then turning her head to the side. "Security!" Jacqui called out.
Gale was in shock. "Seriously, you're actually calling security on me?!"
"We have a rule, no press on set. No you on set." Jacqui explained with clear malice in her tone before her eyes caught the two security guards walking over. "Get that woman out of here, the one with the horrible bangs dressed like a McDonalds spokesperson." Gale gasped in offense.
"Yes, Ms. Hawthorne." One security guard said as he and the other one grabbed both of Gale's arms. "Let's go."
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Where is Detective Kincaid?" Gale tried to stop herself from getting kicked out. "I am working with Kincaid, you two! Come on!"
"Move along, miss. Let's go." The other guard told Gale.
"Rules are rules, Gale." Dewey said. Jacqui stood next to him with her arms folded and one hand pettily waving Gale away. "But, really, it was great seeing you."