[ update two days in a row bc it's mean to leave you hanging like that ]

☆︎

YOU WERE A GODDAMN NOBODY, ROMAN — SO PATHETIC THAT YOUR OWN MOTHER DIDN'T WANT YOU — THEN WE PUT YOU ON THE MAP. WE HELPED YOU MAKE A FUCKING NAME FOR YOURSELF, AND YOU REPAY THE FAVOR BY KILLING ZAY?

☆︎ FEBRUARY 4TH, 2000 ☆︎

"Pizza me, Detective Dipshit," Indiana ordered while holding out a paper plate.

Wallace rolled his eyes but did put three slices of pizza on the plate for her to take back to Mark's office to share with Sidney and Jackson. Most everyone in the precinct was working late and tirelessly to try and find a way to stop these murders.

"It's nice to know taxpayers' hard-earned money is going toward your little pizza party," she said in a snide tone before returning to Mark's office, ignoring the scoff that Wallace let out. "Couldn't even give us two slices a piece."

"All right, all right. It's pizza, not a party," he said, looking pointedly at his fellow officers who needed to focus back on the case. "Everybody get back to work. Anybody seen my fucking partner?"

Rather than tell Wallace that Mark was supposedly searching the set, Indiana just delivered the pizza, leaving the plate with Sidney at the desk while carrying her own slice and Jackson's over to him on the little couch.

"They didn't have pineapple?" Jackson asked with a frown, taking the slice of plain cheese from her.

"It's not exactly a Pizza Hut buffet," Sidney commented with a tired smile.

"I don't want to be here," Indiana grumbled while also shoving the pizza in her mouth, not caring about talking with her mouth full. She didn't want to be there so much that she didn't even comment on Jackson's preferred pizza topping. "We shouldn't be shut up in a police station while Isaiah's killer is running around and getting away with it."

"Hey, they won't get away with it," Jackson told her, wrapping an arm around her as he did. "This sick fuck is gonna regret being born when this is all over."

Indiana took in a deep breath and nodded, keeping her rage contained for the time being.

"What did his parents say when Dewey called?" Sidney asked them, rubbing her forehead.

"Annabelle did the whole sobbing act and blamed it on the band," Jackson said, looking at his hands. "Screamed about God punishing her for having a son who lived in sin or some shit like that."

"She's not wrong," Indiana mumbled, earning confused looks from the other two. Tears welled in her eyes but she didn't let them fall. "It is the band's fault. He'd still be alive if I never dragged you all into this. It's my fault."

"No, it's not your fault," Jackson said in a firm tone. "It's the fucking killer's fault. The last few years of Zay's life were the best ones, and you know that. He loved the band, he loved Luca, and we were his family. So don't ever regret bringing us all together, Indy."

"He's right," Sidney said softly. "And you know, if you hadn't come into our lives and brought Sophia, Randy might be dead too. You can't take the blame for so much that's out of your control. You can't be the guard dog for the whole world no matter how hard you try."

"Well, I'll keep trying," she said under her breath. "If Dewey and the others don't get here fucking quick, I'm leaving. I'm tired of being the one that has to wait until the Ghostface decides to show up. Maybe I want to do the hunting for once."

"I don't think your boyfriend would like you running off," Jackson said teasingly.

"Ugh, he's not my boyfriend," Indiana said with an eye roll.

"He's basically your boyfriend," Sidney said while setting her plate down and looking at Mark's desk. She frowned when she spotted a blue folder with her name scribbled on it. "A boyfriend with a file on me, it seems."

"Join the club," Indy mumbled, seeing Sidney pick the folder up — it was significantly thinner than the one that Mark had on Indiana, which was a little bit rude.

Sidney flipped through the countless newspaper articles and stories written about her over the last few years, including her mother's death and what happened with Billy and Mickey. Details that Mark thought were important to the case were highlighted or circled so that he could keep up with it all. As she looked through her history, Sidney felt just as violated as Indiana did when she found out about her folder.

"He's such a stalker," Indiana whispered to Jackson, who rolled his eyes playfully, knowing that was pretty much Mark's job description.

Before Sidney could finish looking through the compiled information on herself, her cell phone rang, which she dug out of her bag to answer. "Hello?"

Whatever the other person said just made Sideny frown, and suspecting that it was the killer, Indiana sat up straight, watching her friend carefully.

"Who is this?" Sidney questioned. "Um, w - who's calling?"

"What?" Indy asked, tossing her crust into a trash can before moving to Sidney's side.

Sidney shrugged, not sure what was happening with her phone. "Randy, Dewey, whoever, um, call me back. I can only hear myself."

Whatever was said next made Sidney freeze up and she reached for Indiana's hand, who instantly crouched down to try and hear even with the phone off speaker. "Who is this?" Sidney asked again.

"The question isn't who I am. The question is who's with me?" the muffled but familiar sound of the Ghostface voice said.

"Sidney, stay away!" Dewey shouted in the background of the call.

"Don't, Sid!" Randy yelled.

In an instant, Sidney was on her feet and rushing to the door to get help, but the killer quickly stopped her. "Don't do it. If you do one thing to attract attention to yourself — one thing — I'll kill them all." Slowly, Jackson came to stand by Indiana, both watching Sidney warily, wondering what was happening. "Now, do you have somewhere we can be alone?"

Sidney looked behind them at the door that led to Wallace's connecting office and said, "Yes."

"Yeah. Go there."

Jackson and Indiana followed Sidney closely as she moved into the empty office, shutting the door behind them. Sidney then put the call on speaker so that the others could hear.

"What the fuck do you want?" Indiana asked, letting the killer know she was there.

"You know what I want, Indy. I want your friend," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. "Oh, it's hard being friends with you, Sidney. When you're friends with Sidney, you die. Well, these friends don't have to, Sidney. It's up to you."

Sidney shared a look with Indiana, neither sure what to believe when they heard Dewey yelling in the background. "How do I know their voices are—"

"Are real?" he cut her off. "How do you know you're not hearing things? How do you know I'm not someone in your head? Someone you know."

Then they heard Dewey call out again. "Don't come here, Sidney!" It was followed by a punching sound, and Gale yelled his name worriedly.

"Or do you?" Ghostface asked hauntingly.

"You're dead," Indiana threatened, clenching her fist angrily.

"Oh, not yet," he said with a low chuckle. "Though your little drummer is pretty damn close. She's been having some breathing trouble."

"You son of a bitch!" Jackson shouted, glaring at the phone. "Leave my sister alone."

"I don't want her. I want Sidney," he told them. "It's simple. You show yourself, they survive. You run, they die."

"No!" Randy shouted. "It's a trap! So—"

Randy was cut off by his own groan, sounding as if the killer had stabbed him somewhere, making Gale scream.

"Don't you wanna know, Sidney, who killed her? Don't you wanna know who killed your mother?" the killer asked, knowing it would eat away at Sidney.

Sidney looked to Indiana, silently asking her what she thought they needed to do. Not that she had to ask — Indiana had just declared her desire to go hunting. If Sophia, Dewey, and Randy were being held hostage along with Gale, no way were they going to leave their safety up to the police.

"Where?" Sidney asked him, her voice shaking a little.

Rather than answer, he just kept talking. "She'd have been so happy, Sidney, to know we'd be together."

"Fucking where?" Indiana asked louder, not caring if she drew attention to the office.

"I'll call you when you're on your way," Ghostface said. "And bring Jackson too. He always misses out on the fun stuff."

Then the call cut off, a dial tone sounding as the killer hung up. While Sidney looked around the office frantically, thinking it through, Indiana was already thinking over every word that left the killer's mouth, starting with the invitation extended to Jackson.

"Well, that means you're not fucking going," Indiana said, looking pointedly at her best friend.

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "Sophia is there with him. I almost lost her because of Billy. I'm not letting that happen again."

"But—"

"No," he cut her off. "We do this together, or I go get Wallace."

She let out a huff and gave in despite how much she hated the thought of Jackson being in danger. Then she looked at Sidney, who'd just grabbed the car keys sitting on Wallace's desk.

"God, that's gonna piss him off," Indiana said with a little smile. Then she scanned the office with her eyes, looking for anything they could use. "We can't go unarmed. You two check for anything in here, I'll get Mark's office."

The three shared a look to prepare themselves. They'd done this twice before — at least the girls had. Now, they were older and stronger and smarter. No matter who was behind the mask, they weren't getting out of this alive.

"How long before you think he calls us?" Jackson asked as Sidney rifled through Wallace's desk.

"I don't need a call," Indiana said before backing into Mark's office. "A birthday party at a mansion? Sounds like a great third-act setting if you ask me."

☆︎

Indiana had been right, of course, and wasn't surprised when the killer called to give them directions to John Milton's mansion. So, she hung up on him mid-sentence, not wanting to hear the dreaded voice that would probably follow them around for the rest of their lives.

"Okay, no splitting up," she instructed as Sidney pulled up behind Dewey's cruiser. "There's one, two killers tops, and once we free the others, it's seven against one. We'll end this."

They were armed — not well-armed but armed nonetheless. Sidney managed to find three guns around the two offices, keeping two of them shoved in the ankle of her boot while Jackson had another. And always one to prefer knives, Indiana had two shoved in the waistband of her jeans, hidden by the shirt of Mark's that she was still wearing.

Given that police officers didn't typically have knives laying around, Indiana had stolen them from evidence. One knife killed Cotton Weary and one killed Isaiah.

The three of them piled out of Wallace's car, carefully walking along the pathway that led to the huge house. Indiana went first, looking around a gate and spotting a pool just ahead, the lights under the water giving her enough light to see.

And what she saw made her feel sick at her stomach as she came to a fast stop, not letting Jackson and Sidney come around the corner.

"Jax," Indiana whispered, not taking her eyes off the pool. "Go back to the car."

"What? No way," he said, pushing past her.

Indiana tried to pull him back, but it was useless as he went around the corner, seeing the body that she so desperately didn't want him to see.

It wasn't Tyson that she was trying to hide, who was dead in a heap on the concrete, a puddle of his own blood flowing from him.

No, it was a figure who was unmoving, their head submerged underneath the chlorinated water while the rest of their body was resting on the ground. And they'd have recognized her anywhere.

"N - No," Jackson whispered, shaking his head. "No, not - not, no."

With shaking legs, he stumbled forward and nearly fell over as he reached her, Indiana half a step behind him as she kept an eye out, waiting for the killer to jump out at them. But once they were there, once Jackson hauled Sophia out of the water completely and laid her on her back, Indiana's knees gave out as she joined him on the ground, leaving Sidney to keep an eye out.

"Wa - wake up, Soph," Jackson pleaded, cupping his sister's face, which felt cold and clammy in his hands.

"Jack," Indiana mumbled, her eyes welling with tears as she felt Sophia's neck, not finding a pulse. "She... she's dead."

But Jackson just shook his head and then began doing chest compressions, not caring that her body was already cold. That she was already dead and had been, likely long before the killer even called them at the police station.

"C'mon," he muttered, tears blurring his vision. "Wake up, Soph! Wake the fuck up! Come on!"

The longer he went, the more control he lost. And when his hands slipped off her body, Indiana was there to hold him back before he could try again, letting him fall against her and let out a scream so loud that anyone left alive on the property must've heard him.

"I'm sorry," Indiana cried, holding him tightly. She was staring at Sophia's body, her vacant and dead eyes staring right back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

It was cruel that they couldn't even begin to truly mourn before Sidney's phone rang loudly, startling all of them. Sidney flinched before answering it while Indiana coaxed Jackson off the ground, knowing they couldn't stay so vulnerable.

"What?" Sidney asked harshly.

"You follow directions well, Sidney. Now, welcome to the final act," Ghostface said.

"You mother fucker!" Jackson shouted, lunging for the phone, his voice cracking. "You said she was alive!"

"Oh, I never said that. I told you that she was having trouble breathing," he told him in a condescending tone that made Jackson scream angrily. "See that metal detector? Use it, all of you."

The metal detector in question was by Tyson's body. Sidney was the first to move, grabbing it and turning it on.

"All over, Sidney. Everywhere," he specified. She ran it over her left side and up her torso, flinching when it beeped over Derek's necklace. "Everywhere. The other leg too!"

Sidney glanced at Indiana, who just nodded, and then she did as she was told, the metal detector beeping when it reached the ankle of her boot.

"Show it to me," Ghostface ordered as she removed the weapon and held it up. "Throw it in the pool. Then the others."

So, after throwing away the gun, Sidney passed the metal detector to Jackson, who grabbed it angrily, waving it over his body. And of course, it beeped over the pocket of his sweatshirt where he had one of the guns, which soon joined Sidney's in the pool.

Indiana was suddenly very glad that she and Sidney both put their second weapons in the same place as their firsts because she still had a knife tucked in her waistband after tossing out the one that killed Cotton and Sidney still had a gun left to use.

"Now, come inside, join the party," Ghostface said as Indiana dropped the metal detector, the device breaking from the impact.

"No fucking way," Sidney spat. "How do we know they're not dead already? Just like Soph?"

"They're right inside, waiting for you," he told them. "Look for yourself."

Hesitantly, the three of them stepped to the side. They could see right into the ornately decorated living room, where three chairs were pushed back to back, Dewey, Gale, and Randy all tied to them with duct tape over their mouths to keep them quiet.

"Shit," Indiana muttered, wondering how the killer managed to trap all of them so easily.

Sidney was the first to enter the house, and Jackson almost didn't, too busy looking back at his sister's body by the pool. He was waiting for her to wake back up and join the fight like the first time around. But eventually, Indiana grabbed his hand and pulled him along, knowing they couldn't split up even for him to stay and guard Sophia's body.

"Now that we're all here, the party can begin," the killer said.

Not seeing him in the living room, Sidney just hung up. Then they all rushed to the chairs, Sidney taking Randy, Indiana covering Gale, and Jackson getting Dewey. Indiana wasn't exactly gentle as she pulled the tape off of Gale's mouth.

"Jack," Dewey breathed out, looking at him sadly. He shook his head. "Soph... she was - she was gone before he even finished tying us up."

"Where is he?" Sidney asked while looking over Randy's injuries while cupping his face. His shoulder was bleeding the most, but he'd been stabbed in the leg too.

"I don't know," Randy breathed out as she started working on the ropes around his wrist. "Everyone else is dead, though. Roman, Jennifer, everyone."

"Fuck," Indiana swore, closing her eyes for just a moment. She hadn't seen Roman since Wallace took him away to be questioned, and now, he was dead on his birthday — it was all her fault too, as she chose him to direct their music video and helped him get the job for Stab 3. "We've gotta find this son of a—"

"He's right there!" Dewey suddenly shouted, seeing Ghostface appear behind Sidney.

She quickly turned and aimed her gun at him, but he punched her hard, knocking her to the ground.

"Oh, shit," Jackson cursed when he pulled out a knife. He quickly stopped trying to untie Randy and grabbed a big vase, throwing it at Ghostface, who managed to dodge it and run at Sidney with his knife.

However, Sidney whipped out her second gun, making him stop in his tracks. "Think again," she said while standing up. "It's your turn to scream, asshole."

Indiana covered her ears as Sidney shot him five times in the chest, effectively killing him as he fell back into the hallway.

"Yeah!" Dewey cheered.

"We've gotta call the police," Indiana said while beginning to work at the knots around Gale's wrists. Sidney and Jackson also went back to freeing the others. However, before Indiana finished with the ropes, she froze, drawing Gale's attention.

"Um, please keep going," she said while tugging at the restraints.

"I'm just gonna see who it is," she told her while turning around. But her expression dropped when she no longer saw the Ghostface's body in the hallway. "Guys, where'd he go?"

"Fuck," Jackson muttered, unable to believe someone crawled away from that.

Then they all heard a clattering sound coming from the hallway, so Sidney and Indiana stood up, fully alert while Jackson went back to trying to untie Dewey, knowing they needed help.

"Be careful!" Randy insisted as Sidney aimed her gun, ready for anything.

What Indiana wasn't ready for was Mark coming around the corner, a gun of his own raised. Her stomach turned, already fearing the worst as she moved Sidney out of the way.

"Thought you were at the set," Indiana said in a hollow tone.

Mark glanced from Sidney and her weapon to Indiana. "Sophia called me. Said the killer was at the house."

Jackson froze and looked up at the detective. "You spoke to her?"

"Or he killed her," Indiana added, not sure what to believe. "Why else would you leave the precinct without your partner?"

"I just got here, Honey," Mark said, shaking his head. He hated the guarded and scared expression in her eyes. Slowly, he lowered his own gun and holstered it. "And I'm here to help. You can trust me."

"No, I can't," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You know I can't."

"I know," he said sympathetically. "But I need you to anyway. Miss Prescott, put the gun down."

Sidney didn't listen to him, though. Instead, she looked at Indiana, and it wasn't until she hesitantly nodded that Sidney lowered her weapon and tucked it in the waistband of her pants.

Indiana stared at Mark, not sure what to say to him. "Did she really call you?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes. Sounded like she was attacked right before it ended," he told her sadly. Then he glanced at Jackson, whose head was in his hands. "I'm sorry to you both that I didn't get here earlier. Now, what's going on?"

"Killer's here, obviously," Randy said, sniffing a little as he'd been crying for Sophia. "Pretty sure you're the killer. Waiting for Indy to stab you and get it over with."

Like she was following his orders, Indiana took a menacing step toward Mark, ready to grab her hidden knife at a moment's notice. "If you make one wrong move, it'll look like I took it easy on Billy Loomis in comparison."

And Mark did make a move, but it wasn't the wrong one. He was the first one to spot Ghostface emerging from the shadows, going right for Indiana with his knife raised.

"No!" Mark shouted, pulling Indiana out of the way, who fell into Sidney, knocking them both to the ground.

The knife meant for Indiana was plunged into Mark's shoulder. Sidney had hit her head when falling, so Jackson quickly grabbed her gun and stood up, aiming it at the killer. But Ghostface had Mark in a tight hold, and he wasn't sure he could shoot the masked killer without hitting Mark as well, who was shoved up against the wall.

"Mark!" Indiana shouted, scrambling to her feet and watching in horror as the killer stabbed him again. Sidney was holding onto her hand tightly.

But then the detective reared his head back and knocked it into Ghostface's, making him stumble back. The killer quickly threw up a leg, kicking Mark in the jaw, whose head smashed into the stone fireplace when he fell.

With him finally out of the way, Jackson could take a shot. However, Ghostface ducked just before Jackson pulled the trigger, and when he did it again, he found that the gun was out of ammo. He settled for the next best thing, which was throwing it at the killer's head.

"You want me, motherfucker?" Sidney shouted, grabbing the killer's attention. "Come and get me!"

"Run!" Randy shouted as the killer moved toward the girls.

They didn't have to be told twice, practically pros at running from killers at this point. Ghostface chased after them, crashing into a glass door and breaking it as he did, giving them a headstart as they ran down the hallway, luring him away from the others and giving Jackson time to untie everyone.

Since they were unfamiliar with the layout of the home, they were going in blind around every corner until they ended up in the library. Indiana slammed the doors shut and locked them while Sidney searched for another way out.

"There!" she pointed out, seeing light creeping from underneath one of the bookshelves.

Both of them ran to the shelf, and Indiana felt along the side for some kind of latch. The seam told her it opened somehow but she couldn't figure out how to activate it. Following a hunch, Sidney began tearing all the books off the shelves, and Indy started helping a moment later, realizing what she was doing.

"This is some fucking Scooby-Doo shit," Indiana muttered, knowing she would think it was a lot cooler if so many of her friends weren't dead and this Ghostface wasn't so determined to have Sidney join them.

Finally, Sidney grabbed a book that didn't fly off like the others. A latch clicked and then the shelf swung away from the wall, revealing a short hallway. The two of them ran inside and pulled the bookshelf back so that the doorway was sealed off again. Indiana kept her weight against it just in case the killer was right behind them while Sidney looked down the short, dimly-lit hallway.

"Sid..."

"Did you hear that too?" Sidney asked, looking at Indiana with wide eyes.

Indiana froze and listened carefully as the voice echoed around them again.

"Sid. Come in here, please."

"Is that your mom?" Indiana whispered, not understanding where it was coming from.

Sidney's hands were shaking, so she reached for Indiana's before walking deeper into the room. The hidden door led to some kind of screening room, one with a bar and plush couches all pointed at a screen as big as the wall. And projecting on it was a video taken of Maureen Prescott when she was still alive, sitting at a vanity and putting on makeup.

"It's just me, Sid. Oh, I was so pretty," the voice continued, not coming from the video that was playing but somewhere else. "Everybody loved me. Have you missed me, Sidney? Would you like to hold me one last time?"

Sidney was too distracted by the video being projected to notice when someone else joined them. But Indiana saw as the covered figure emerged from the shadows, the same bloody cloth from the movie set thrown over them.

"Fuck," she whispered, getting Sidney's attention. "This is dramatic as shit."

Sidney was shaking, more terrified than she cared to admit overhearing her mother's voice. She stayed half a step behind Indiana, thankful that she wasn't in the room alone with her for the final confrontation of whoever was waiting for her underneath the mask.

"Would you like to hold me one last time? What's the matter? What are you staring at? Don't you remember your mother?"

At the last word, whatever was creating the voice of Maureen Prescott shut off and was replaced with the deep sound of the Ghostface voice changer that they knew all too well. The killer chuckled darkly and pulled off the bloody tarp, revealing his Ghostface costume.

"It's been great, but I think we're gonna duck out," Indy said as Sidney made a break for the door, following right behind her.

But the killer clicked some kind of remote, and the door they came through locked automatically, keeping them inside. With a huff, Indiana ran to the other side of the room where there was a set of heavy, wooden doors. She and Sidney tried to pry them open, but they were locked with a key rather than a knob to turn.

"You're not going anywhere, Sidney," Ghostface said, standing in front of the projector. "It's time you came to terms with me and with Mother."

"Fuuuck," Indiana said, drawing out the word as she and Sidney stepped back and in front of the killer, making sure to keep some distance between them.

"Maybe you never knew her at all, Sidney. Maybe you just can't get past the surface of things," he said while ripping his costume up, showing the white bulletproof vest that he had on. They could see the marks left behind from when Sidney shot him earlier.

"I knew I hit you last night," Indy said, seething. She should've gone for the fucking head.

"Who the hell are you?" Sidney asked, getting more upset.

"The other half of you. I searched for a mother too, an actress named Rina Reynolds. Tried to find her my whole life. And four years ago, I actually tracked her down," he said. And as he did, behind him the footage of Maureen continued, clearly having been shot without her knowing. "Knocked at her door, thinking she'd welcome me with open arms. But she had a new life and a new name — Maureen Prescott. You were the only child she claimed, Sidney."

As the killer moved closer, Indiana pulled Sidney back.

"She shut me out in the cold forever. Her own son," he went on. Then the killer removed the mask, revealing himself and shocking Indiana — not because she trusted him, but because he was supposed to be dead.

As for Sidney, she couldn't be shocked because she'd never seen him once in her fucking life.

"Roman Bridger, director," he introduced before bringing the voice changer to his mouth. "And brother."

"What the fuck?" Indiana asked, looking at the man that she thought was their friend.

"No hard feelings, Indy," he said with a humorless chuckle while smoothing his hair down.

"No hard feelings?" she asked, shaking from anger. "You were a goddamn nobody, Roman — so pathetic that your own mother didn't want you — then we put you on the map. We helped you make a fucking name for yourself, and you repay the favor by killing Zay and Soph? They thought you were their friend!"

Roman shook his head angrily. "No, you didn't make me. I made you!" he shouted. "She slammed the door in my face, Sid. She said I was Rina's child, and Rina was dead.
And it struck me — what a good idea! So I watched her. I made a little home movie. A litt - little family film. It seems Maureen —Mom — she really got around. I mean, Cotton was one thing. Everybody knew about that. But Billy's father? That was the key."

Indiana's eyes slid to the screen, seeing footage of Maureen meeting Mr. Loomis outside of a cheap motel near the highway back in Woodsboro. It was the very video he showed Billy, making him all too aware of the affair going on.

"Your boyfriend didn't like seeing his daddy in my film too much," Roman said in a smug tone. "He didn't like it at all. But once I supplied the motivation, all the kid needed was a few pointers. Have a partner to sell out in case you get caught, find someone to frame. It was like he was making a movie."

Realizing what he was saying — realizing that he really was the mastermind behind everything that happened so long ago — tears welled in Sidney's eyes. "You," she whispered. "This is all because of you."

Roman grinned at the girls sinisterly. "I'm a director, Sid. I direct."

"Oh," she murmured humorlessly, not having near as much fun as her supposed brother was.

"So, you see, I did make you, Indiana," Roman told her while taking a step forward. She took the time to slide her hand underneath her shirt, ready to grab the knife and attack. "The movies, the awards, your tour — you wouldn't have had any of it without me."

"Sure, maybe you gave us a push," she said, glaring at him. "But I don't think the details will really matter when all is said and done and you're fucking dead."

Roman just laughed like she had told a hilarious joke, shaking his head. "God, you don't get it, Indy. Sidney isn't leaving this room alive, and if you're not gonna stand down, then you won't leave either."

"Well, I'm pretty much a pro at killing assholes in a Ghostface mask," she said, getting ready to charge at him. "And by my count, you're still outnumbered in this little theater."

"Is that right?" he asked in a tone too calm for her liking. "Didn't you just hear me? Always have a partner."

"Indy!" Sidney exclaimed, having spotted the newest arrival in the room a second too late as they came up behind Indiana.

Before she knew it, she could feel the cold metal of a knife pressed to her throat as a second Ghostface grabbed Indiana from behind. She tried to get away, but they dug the weapon in, nicking her skin and causing a small drop of blood to roll down her neck.

"Shit," Indy whispered, knowing she couldn't move without risking her throat being slit.

Indiana could feel her pulse quickening, her thoughts running a mile a minute as twenty names flashed in her mind, warning her of who could potentially be underneath the mask that she could see out of her peripheral vision. The gloved hand that wasn't holding the knife had a tight grip on her arm, keeping her pulled close.

"Someone had to make all the calls. Someone had to blow up Jennifer's place while I was waiting down that hill for you all," Roman said, his grin turning into a smirk now that Indiana was trapped. "Maybe your Detective wouldn't be bleeding out if you'd been paying more attention."

"You can't be," Indiana whispered, hating how her voice trembled. She had already stopped struggling in the new Ghostface's hold, knowing in her heart who was underneath the mask. "It's not you."

"But you want it to be me, Sweetheart," his voice came from behind the mask, spoken right into her ear as clear as day. "Don't you?"

"Mickey?" Sidney asked, her eyes going wide at the familiar voice.

"M - Mickey?" Indiana questioned, hating the tear that fell from her eyes. And she fucking hated the way her chest was aching in anticipation despite everything he'd done. She hated that she turned her head even more, desperate to get a better look even though the mask was on. "You're alive?"

"Never trust the love interest."

Slowly, he let go of her arm and pulled the mask up, and Indiana felt like she was right back in the theater in Windsor, her world crashing down around her all over again as she was betrayed. But it wasn't because it was Mickey underneath — it was because it wasn't.

"Luca?"