"Holy hell," you goggled at the old Hollywood-esque mansion that belonged to John Milton, taking in all its glory. "How fucking rich is this guy?"
Randy tutted as the two of you strode past a rectangular swimming pool in the courtyard on your way to the front entrance.
"Too rich," he replied, scornfully. "That decrepit fuck has probably made millions off our trauma. And we never even saw a cent."
You huffed out a laugh, eyes training on the giant red "Happy Birthday" banner for Roman that decorated the brick wall above the door.
"Right... maybe we should sue." You suggested playfully, and Randy rolled his eyes at how unserious you were.
"We should be suing Gale Weathers for writing those fabricated books about our lives. If it weren't for her, there wouldn't even be the Stab movies." He adamantly declared while shoving his hands into his pant pockets.
"Oh, please." You clicked your tongue as you paused at the house's entrance, knocking on the door. "You're just upset because she referred to you as, 'The geek who lived'."
You snickered at the scowl on Randy's face as you had promised not to joke about it after the book came out, however, it was simply too comical not to bring up again.
A few seconds ticked by before the door opened to reveal a drunken Roman, and you noticed the virtually empty champagne flute in his hand.
"Oh, hey, Y/n..." He greeted, then glanced at Randy. "And Y/n's friend."
You gave a friendly smile as he raised his hands, the champagne sloshing around in the glass, nearly spilling out. "Come on in guys! Join the party."
Randy wore a wary look as the two of you followed Roman inside. Walking through the compact foyer, he opened the double doors that lead to the recreation room. You spotted Dewey and Gale waiting by the fireplace while three cast members — Angelina, Tyson, and Jennifer — were chatting amongst themselves on the couch.
As Randy waltzed right over to Dewey, you pulled Roman by the sleeve of his shirt back inside the foyer. He wobbled slightly, discombobulated by your swift action as his brows pinched together.
You just wanted a little privacy while you gave him his gift.
Reaching into your jacket pocket, you pulled out a miniature white box and handed it to him. "Happy birthday, Roman."
His bemused gaze flickered from the gift to you, then back down to the box as he gently took it from you. Wordlessly, he set his champagne glass on the wooden bookshelf behind him before carefully removing the lid.
The crease between his eyebrows faded, his expression displaying astonishment as he saw what was inside—a golden keychain embellished with a Trojan horse. He held it flat against his palm as he scanned the back to find your name engraved with the words, "To Troy, we march!" You felt it was fitting given your Greek history with one another.
"I know it's not an amazing, out of this world, gift but–"
"No, it's great." Roman shook his head as he carefully placed it back inside the box. "It's really great, especially since it's the only birthday present I've ever gotten."
He chuckled solemnly, hoping you'd find amusement in his jesting, but you just felt bad for him. Thirty years old, and not a single gift from a loved one. The thought alone triggered your sympathetic heart, and you couldn't resist the urge to hug him.
Stepping forward, you pulled him into your embrace as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Roman seemed taken aback, the whites of his eyes somewhat expanding as he processed this foreign form of affection.
You let out a relieved sigh when he eventually slid his arms around your waist, hugging you back. "Thank you," You whispered in his ear.
"Thank me?" He questioned, unsure as to where this sudden gratitude was coming from.
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have returned to California." You revealed while pulling away, though you still held onto his arms as you smiled up at him. "I don't think I would've come home if you hadn't offered me a job... even if it did only last for a day. You gave me a place to stay and because of you, I stopped running. So, thank you."
Something flashed in Roman's eyes, an unfamiliar emotion brought about by your sudden appreciation. However, he quickly masked his stilted reaction with a smile of his own as he turned to grab his champagne flute.
"You're welcome," he muttered before raising the glass and downing the rest of its contents.
You noticed the abrupt change of energy radiating off Roman as the two of you left the foyer to rejoin the rest of the group, and you couldn't help but wonder why. But you were instantly distracted by Angelina as she began to express her admiration for the home's beauty.
"God, this house is incredible." She stood, glancing around the room in awe.
"Yeah, could the dude have more money?" Tyson spoke sourly as he leaned back against the couch, drinking a glass of scotch.
You walked over to your Woodsboro familiars as Roman stood back behind the sofa, snatching an unopened bottle of champagne off the end table.
"Supposedly, Milton has a secret screening room that was like the scene back in the 70s," he said while popping the cork off. "You know, it was like drinks and drugs and girls and movies and shit."
"Wow! Wish I could've seen it." Angelina gaped.
"Big ole screening room shouldn't be too hard to find," Roman murmured, coming off mildly inebriated as he took a swing straight from the bottle. "I'm gonna go check this place out."
As Roman turned to leave, Tyson rose to his feet to interject. "Woah, woah, woah! Just one damn minute."
Roman stopped in his tracks, and everyone turned to look at Tyson, puzzled by his outburst.
"There's a psycho killer on the loose, and you wanna go traipsing around this gigantic mansion? Have you ever actually seen the Stab movies?" He stared in disbelief, subsequently motioning to Dewey. "Every time this dude enters a room, he ends up a goddamn shish kebab."
You pressed your lips into a thin line as you forced back a laugh. The strained look on Randy's face wasn't helping either as he turned away to avoid eye contact with you, knowing he'd end up breaking out into a fit of laughter if he did.
"I'll go with you, Roman." Jennifer offered, looking a bit frigid.
"There you go," Roman uttered, then turned to you and the others as you stood across the room. "You guys wanna come?"
"It'll be okay. We're gonna stick together." Angelina told Tyson before rushing down a side hallway in search of this secret screening room.
"You're not stickin', wait up!" Tyson called as he took off after her.
You shot a look toward Randy, and he shook his head at the stupidity as everyone started splitting off in pairs.
"Uh, we're gonna stay here." Dewey told Roman, declining his offer.
Roman shrugged, draping an arm over Jennifer's shoulders while holding the champagne bottle in his free hand as they headed down through the foyer. "We'll be right back!" He announced, disappearing around the corner.
Now that the remainder of the group consisted of you, Dewey, Gale, and Randy, you all huddled close together, not too sure what exactly you were waiting on.
"I'm experiencing deja vu, and not the good kind." Randy vocalized.
"There's a good kind?" Dewey questioned, and Gale let out an aggravated sigh as she crossed her arms.
"Does this not remind you all of the party from hell— the massacre of '96?" Randy asked, waving his hands around as if it would help elucidate his point. "Stu's little fiesta ended with several dead bodies and a couple of traumatized survivors... aka, us. I'm gettin' the same vibe here."
"Well, in that case, that would mean we're in the final chapter, wouldn't it?" You quirked a brow, sensing Randy's fright. "After tonight, this will all be over and we can finally move on with our lives."
"Yeah, that is if we even make it through the night." Randy murmured, and you brushed off his retort as you turned to Gale.
"Alright, what was it that you were gonna tell me? You said you had some info on Maureen?" You inquired. However, Gale stared at you for a moment, brows furrowing as she was incognizant.
"Well, we discovered she had acted in a few minor roles here, but I wasn't aware that I told you." She shared an uneasy look with Dewey, and you frowned in response.
"Gale, you called me earlier." You affirmed. "I'm only here because you asked me to come."
"No, I didn't." She denied, shaking her head. "I never called you."
A chill surged through your body, the tension in the room spiking. Everyone fell silent as you were all disquieted by this uncanny circumstance.
"Alright, this is getting fucking creepy." Randy commented, fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Okay," Dewey moved to stand by your side. "Y/n, do you have caller ID on your cell phone?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Use it and press send."
Pulling out your phone, you did as he said. You clicked a couple of buttons and held it to your ear. Almost immediately, a ringing resounded from inside the room. Your brows shot up in surprise as you looked at the others.
"What the hell?" Gale mumbled as you all started a search to find where the noise was coming from.
Dewey stumbled upon a closet and tugged it open as the ringing grew louder. He stepped inside and pulled the light switch, discovering the recipient's phone, voice modulator, and a Ghostface costume.
Gale covered her mouth with a gasp as you quickly hung up and put your phone away.
"What is this thing?" She asked while picking up the modulator. You took notice of the difference in its appearance from the one Billy and Stu normally used. It looked so much more advanced.
Gale held it to her lips, and pressed a random button as she spoke into it, "Is this what he–"
She jolted as it played back her words in Dewey's voice. This startled everyone, and Dewey quickly unholstered his gun as he began to scan the room.
"He's got our voices!" Gale spoke into it again, pressing a different button. This time it relayed in Roman's voice, and your eyes widened in realization. That's how the killer was able to taunt you with your brother's voice, and it's how he tricked you into thinking Gale was the one who called you.
"He's got us all." You muttered, glancing at Randy as he held up the ghostface mask, examining it. When his gaze met yours, he released a heavy sigh as he tossed it back inside the closet.
"Looks like Stab 3 is back in production."