Disclaimer: I don't own Scream.

Author's note: No one else has donated anything… I'mma sad Lily.

Chapter Seven: Separate Targets

Roman wasted no time in heading back to the others after his small meeting with Sidney. Debbie was sleeping and Charlie was shopping for food when he met back up with them, but he told the others that he had confirmed Sidney was back home. Naturally, he didn't divulge what else he had learned.

"So, we've got Sid there, and Gale in Woodsboro," Billy said, mulling it over. "Should we act on this, or pass it up?"

Mickey thought about that. Either presented juicy possibilities from the point of view of their audience. If they attacked the two women in their homes separately, it sent a message of fear, and tension- no place is safe. If they passed this up, and Sidney and Gale both met the group on their terms, and were killed then, it would send a very clear message too- fuck with Ghostface, and die.

"I think we should pass it up," Mickey said, explaining what his thoughts had been. "Better for the long term, and I want to keep going for a while after we get Sidney and the good widow Weathers."

"So then, what do we do from here?" Stu asked. He was enthusiastic, but would never really be mistaken for an idea man, despite the fact that every now and then, Stu did indeed offer an excellent plan, or revisions to improve an existing one. Stu wasn't stupid, not at all. He simply lacked the vision enjoyed by the other killers, like Mickey, Roman, and Jill.

"Woodsboro has arguably played its role for the moment," Roman observed. "That cocksucking, shitbag cop is dead," Roman said in a near snarl, though he was grinning widely as he thought about how the man who had murdered him mere feet away from his goal had been their first victim, painfully murdered by Charlie, "and Stu and Charlie left them something to remember us by. Let's… switch things up, while keeping them meaningful. Lady, gentlemen, I propose that we hit up LA, do some distinctive work there, make a few kills in Windsor College, and then start in on an area near Sidney, and see how she responds."

"Brilliant!" Jill exclaimed approvingly. It was just the way to turn the attention of all of America on themselves, to announce from the shadows that they were back, that they and she, Jill Roberts, were above even Death.

Shortly thereafter, Debbie woke up and Charlie returned. The seven enjoyed a nice, big dinner together as Charlie and Debbie were brought up to speed. Charlie, like Jill, Mickey, and Billy, loved Roman's idea, agreeing that it was dramatic, got attention, and sent the perfect message without being hammy. Charlie compared it to the Remnants of Sephiroth in Advent Children, noting the similarity in threat and communication, but also in remaining out of harm's way as much as could really be expected. Everyone but Jill just took his word for it.

"Say, Mickey," Billy said as he dug into barbequed chicken with macaroni and cheese, "I'm actually a little curious, why are you being so helpful? I thought you'd wanted to get caught."

Mickey was washing down his cheeseburger with a long swig of apple juice, so he swallowed it and replied, "Well, yeah, eventually. But there's no point in being caught until I've got a nice, long list of shit I did that'll shock and disgust the public, until they hear my side of things and I become a media darling, a hero to millions across several demographics." Jill perked up at this, and considered that it might be beneficial to listen to Mickey a lot more often, and maybe try his idea for herself. "When it was just Deb and I, by the time we died, I would have liked to do a bit more still before being caught. Maybe a few guttings, one or two more than Billy or Stu did. Now that there's seven of us, though, we need to be epic on a scale like The Godfather, Aliens, fuck, Godzilla. We need a gigantic body count, in at least the triple digits. Anything less will just mark as, like, a fuckin' cult or something else that misses the point."

"What do you want us to be seen as?" Stu asked. He, like most of the others, had no wish or desire to get caught, but he was genuinely interested in understanding Mickey's thoughts on his future. It wasn't what he wanted for himself, but he could see the appeal, and respected Mickey's wishes, as long as he didn't have to get caught along with him.

"Exactly what we are, Mr. Macher," Mickey said cheerfully. "The largest group of cooperating spree and serial killers in known history. Who could even hold a candle to this record?"

"Well, Killer7 had eight people, and eventually became Killer8 with nine people," Charlie offered, although he then had to explain who Killer7 was.

"You can't compare yourself to video games, kiddo," Mickey laughed. "Video games and anime are always going to one-up movies and real life. They're the perfect medium for it."

"What about books?" Debbie asked. She received blank looks from everyone but Jill, who simply shrugged.

"You mean, like… comic books?" Charlie asked.

"Well… Never mind," Debbie said, taking a large bite out of a slice of pizza. They were leading very active lifestyles, and everyone had found themselves eating a lot more than normal.

"I've been wondering," Stu said, "Do you think we should, I dunno, make more elaborate kills or something?"

"How do you mean?" Billy asked.

"Well, like, not use the same kind of knife nearly all the time. Maybe not even use a knife. Maybe we could do other stuff, like make cool deathtraps that they have to escape from, or really elaborate setups for a creative kill, or even just shoot them from a distance or something to spice it up a bit."

Everyone else laughed.

"What self-respecting killer would ever do that?" Jill asked. "I'm a slasher, not an engineer."

"Yeah, we'd be called the OCD murderers," Mickey chuckled.

"Stu, my man, all a good killer needs is a knife and some moxie," Roman said sagely, nodding slowly.

"I guess it is kind of a stupid idea, now that I think about it," Stu admitted.

In no hurry, the seven Ghostfaces finished their dinner, and got ready for their next act.