CUT TO:
INT. BILLY'S CAR – NIGHT
Billy is still stuck in traffic. His phone beeps. He looks down – a text message from the killer. It's a roster – with pictures of each inmate at Camp Wick. Devon's and Mikey's faces are now blacked out. Billy knows what this means – someone is about to die.
BILLY: Shit!
He honks his horn furiously. It's no use. The traffic in the Lincoln Tunnel is at a complete standstill.
INT. SUBWAY STATION – NYC - NIGHT
Chantelle hums to herself as she walks through the subway station, phone to her hear. We don't hear who she's on the phone with. It's not important. She swipes her card to get access to the subway station and keeps talking.
CHANTELLE: Anyway luv, I gotta go. The show's starting soon and I gotta be ready for my part. Okay, love ya'. We'll do lunch. Have your agent call mine. Buh-bye.
She hangs up and checks her small purse.
Her phone rings. It's Nathan. She smiles and answers.
CHANTELLE: Nathan darling, I'm on my way. Fashionably late of course. We can afford to build some anticipation for Mr. DeLaouritz.
We don't hear Nathan's voice. We do see the smile get wiped right off Chantelle's smug face.
CHANTELLE: Recast? But I don't understand? As Carlotta? Nathan, no offense – but have you lost your ever-friggen mind? Me? In a secondary role? Who's the hoe you recast as Christine? (Beat) Nicholette? That fucking nobody?! Oh no, no, nobody sidelines Chantelle Montgomery! Do you understand me Nathan? You better fix this shit right now so-help me! My agent will make sure you're reduced to directing high school musicals, do you hear me?! Make it right!
She hangs up in a fury. She stands alone by the tracks, waiting for her subway train to arrive.
Her cell phone rings again. She answers without even looking at it, assuming it's Nathan –
CHANTELLE: I knew you'd see reason -
GHOSTFACE: Poor Chantelle Montgomery. Sidelined in the biggest production of her career. Imagine being replaced by a nobody. I'd almost feel sorry for the laughingstock you're about to become, but frankly you're not going to live long enough to hear about it!
CHANTELLE: Cute Kirby. Did you download that app yourself? Though your voice is mannish enough that you don't need one. Did you call to gloat? Guess again – you better find yourself another Carlotta because I'm not even showing up.
GHOSTFACE: Trust me, you won't be missed. And that must be the hardest part for you to deal with … how easily you were cast aside.
CHANTELLE: I already have a therapist, thanks. So if you don't mind, I'm treating myself to a massage -.
GHOSTFACE: Don't hang up on me!
Chantelle swipes the hang-up button and pockets her phone. She folds her arms and taps her fingers impatiently.
CHANTELLE: Where is that damn subway? Ugh, I knew I should've just called an Uber, riding public transportation is sobeneath me.
She turns. She's completely alone in the station. The light above flickers, and there's no noise but the sound of water dripping.
CHANTELLE: You know what, an Uber it is.
She turns and heads back towards the gate leading to the entrance and stairway leading back up to the city above. The entrance gate's automated locks click on. She can't get back out. She's growing ever more frustrated.
CHANTELLE: Just great.
Her phone rings again.
CHANTELLE: What? What? Who is this? I have enough trouble –
GHOSTFACE: Oh no, Chantelle. Your troubles haven't started yet. Not nearly.
CHANTELLE: Oh, you again. I'm sorry. Did I not make my point clear?
GHOSTFACE: You aren't being very friendly …
CHANTELLE: Oh, I'm sorry Kirby. Or is this that freak Lucy? I didn't realize being the lead in a play meant I had to be friends with you all and play along with your stupid Stab games.
GHOSTFACE: Oh, so you know the Stab genre?
CHANTELLE: What's there to know? Ring, ring, "how do you wanna die?" It's not scary, it's stupid.
GHOSTFACE: You would know …
CHANTELLE: Oh, is that a crack on my intelligence? Listen Lucy –
GHOSTFACE: This isn't Lucy.
CHANTELLE: Kirby then.
GHOSTFACE: Not even close.
CHANTELLE: Then who? Chris? Brian? Is that you, Nathan? Or what about that freak Ace that hangs around for some reason thinking he's the shit when we all know he'll never amount to anything but a two-bit –
GHOSTFACE: I REALLY DON'T THINK YOU WANT TO CONTINUE DOWN THIS LINE OF THOUGHT CHANTELLE!
CHANTELLE: (smiling) Ah, hit a nerve? Ace then. Nice try, but you're not going to scare me. What, did you put Nathan up to cancelling my lead?
GHOSTFACE: Heh, Nathan just happens to know real, raw talent when he sees it. Nicholette possesses that. You other hand – well, would anyone know who you were unless you slept your way to the top? Face it, Chantelle – your pussy ain't so good that it can be a substitute for actual skills.
CHANTELLE: (walking towards another gate) Nice. Vulgarity. But what can I expect from a bunch of low-lives -.
GHOSTFACE: But you use other underhanded methods to get what you want. Videotaping Nicholette Loomis and showing it to her boyfriend. Feh, he was gonna take her back to Woodsboro, out of my grasp. But the only one taking him anywhere is a coroner! Would you like to go along with him? (Beat) Face it, Chantelle, this just isn't your show anymore. It's mine! I've been putting the pieces in place for my magnum opus! But you – well, you won't be as missed as you think!
The phone goes dead. Chantelle arrives at the second gate – it doesn't respond. She looks down the train tracks. No train in sight. She turns – sees a stairwell at the far end of the corridor. She heads for it and presses the wooden door open. She peers up at the stairwell … it's dank, dark … but better than being down here. She places a foot on the step –
GHOSTFACE APPEARS BEHIND HER, GRABBING HER BY THE HAIR!
Chantelle screams as he DRAGS her back, throwing her onto the ground of the platform. She sprawls, grabs her purse, pulls out her pepper spray. She looks up – GHOSTFACE IS GONE.
She rises to her feet. The dim lights in the subway flicker. She turns, limping, looking for somewhere to go -.
A TRAIN WHISTLE CUTS THROUGH THE SILENCE, STARTLING HER!
A subway train is approaching. She limps out, hands up, waving at it.
But it doesn't stop. It speeds through the platform, car after car – this isn't this train's stop. Chantelle stands there, her face faltering.
GHOSTFACE APPEARS BEHIND HER AGAIN! He GRIPS the back of her head, SHOVES HER FORWARD! Her face SMASHES into the windows of the speeding train, roughly GRAZING the metallic sides. The metal ribbing of each train car SLICES HER FACE – car after car after car until – the last car vanishes down into the distance.
Ghostface holds Chantelle's limp body by the back of her head – her face completely EVISCERATED – a bloody, twitching mass is all that's left. And with a jerk, he shoves her limp form onto the tracks … left to be picked at by the rats and bisected by the next approaching train …