Ghostface strode into the room with enough confidence of the space that it was obvious he had gotten accustomed to his new surroundings fairly quickly. And what else had he been able to do in this dump except pace, snoop, and pace some more? The stride was only broken by him kicking aside a box in his path. He could have easily stepped past it but with the embittered mood he was in, he opted for the more aggressive route instead.
Less than a minute had passed since his entry and he was already plopping down onto a dark green loveseat that had been shoved along the left side of the room. He'd been through most of the house by now, inspecting and investigating away his boredom. After he'd gotten done listening to 'Chucky Cries a Lot', he had been rummaging through the only room he hadn't yet been in: The master bedroom. There wasn't much deducing to be done as it was apparent the master bedroom belonged to Jennifer's parents.
A half grin met his lips as he recalled the terrified look on her face. His threats always landed and he was feeling particularly pent up with how things had been playing out. So getting to ignite the flame of fear inside her heart had relieved some of his current tension, if only by some small margin. The image had him easing back into the cushions, both arms resting behind the cowl of his head, comforted by her avid lack thereof.
But it wasn't enough. He wasn't one to settle for scraps. As much as her horrified expression had appeased him, in the very next second it had him scowling. She had no idea just how lucky she'd been. Scratch that, how lucky she was. While it made sense to keep her alive for sake of appearances, he remained baffled that the others hadn't torn her in two. There were those among them that rivaled even his sporadic impatience and namely he could think of two right off the bat: The Nightmare and the Creeper. Freddy was no contest when it came to being testy, and Creeper could be reasoned with, though he was little more than an animal of some intelligence.
"Stupid slut." He said it in a quiet sigh, shaking his head.
She should have just listened to him. She should have just went with Option Two. He would have gotten to kill her and they truly would have gotten the house to themselves: Everyone wins. Sure, would they have been upset with him afterwards? Obviously. No self-respecting killer liked being cheated out of a kill, including him. But he could have dealt with their irritation and their insulted egos. They'd get over it eventually. The world was full of victims and the supply never ran dry.
However that hadn't been the way it had played out. No, instead they were going to go about it the least fun way, the boring way. The role of victim had been snatched before she could rightfully claim it. Now she was barely a dignified house cat. Or more like a timid mouse; Skittering from corner to corner to avoid them while they stayed.
On top of that, he was angry with himself. If only he hadn't slipped on that stupid fucking puddle of milk. Of all things! Ghostface might as well have slipped on a goddamn banana peel, it was just as comical and pathetic. He could have killed her right there. He had been so close. And he had his clumsiness to thank for it.
Now he had to share.
The thought disgusted him, disappointed him.
Though he supposed he couldn't bitch about it too much. The unwanted character trait was out of his control. The clumsiness had been an inherited gene from those that had come before him, those that had given his image life, had given him a legacy. If not for those amateurs, he knew he wouldn't even exist.
If he had anything in common with the rest of the group in this house, asides from similar career paths, it was the distinct dislike for sharing victims. He might have entertained the thought of killing her anyway, but the cenobite's presence was like a looming obstacle obstructing the possibility. The 'chaos' that would be his doing would throw the Hell Priest's knickers in a twist. Not only that, but that damned Aladdin 's reject was attaching himself to her like a hungry leech. That alone stood as another damnable reason to stay. He was the only one that knew the Wishmaster's true nature, his one true goal. While the others in the house were aware of his wish-granting abilities, the genie hadn't been too forthcoming with his own motives. Ghostface's unique situation allowed him this irking responsibility; To make sure Jennifer didn't do the stupidest thing possible..
Like hand away humanity to the djinn.
So he reluctantly accepted the missed opportunity with an exhale through his nose. Ah well. What can you do?
Preventing the downfall of every living being aside, if the others wanted her so badly he'd let them fight over the blonde chew-toy. He for one, wasn't about to salivate over sloppy seconds. And when Mommy and Daddy finally came back home, then Jennifer would get her 'just deserts'. And he would take a front row seat to her reckoning, popcorn and all, as if it would be a new favored film.
Shoving aside the regret he felt for having failed to murder Jennifer, his mind rummaged for a more pleasing topic to evaluate. Prospects.
He could admit when the toy had a point and right now Chucky's earlier point was rearing its head. '-at the end of the day, who's to say we still can't do what we do best, huh? We got a whole neighborhood to fuck around with.'
Suburbia 'Cat and Mouse' had always been a favorite for him. Nefarious happenings conspiring in a community...Suffice to say it was a trope he had always enjoyed. He had been stuck in Hell for longer than he had appreciated. Getting back in the saddle wouldn't be a bad move for him. Practice does make perfect after all.
The search of the adults' room had been a successful one, unlike the rest. The rooms that belonged to the siblings were less than interesting. Jennifer's room had had him making a mental bullet list of some personal facts about who she was as a person, things he could keep in mind should the need arise, but other than that it hadn't been the real prize. There wasn't much to learn other than she was a semi sporty, bookish girl with no friends. She'd given it to him straight. There had been no photos in her room to prove she had a social life outside of her family members. The survey of her intimate space had him now realizing that his earlier reads on her hadn't been so accurate. Not that he had intended them to be. He had just been trying to rile her up for some information, to get some sort of idea about her. And ultimately to see if their stay would be interrupted by other outside influences. He was more than certain he'd figure her out sooner or later, seeing as for the time being he wasn't going anywhere and neither was she.
Stretched across the loveseat with his feet propped up on the opposite end, he shifted his body weight to the side so that he could retrieve what he had scored in his findings.
A baby blue address book was yanked free from his robes. He held it up with one hand, turning the object this way and that. It had a soft look to it, a knitted cover with gold script revealing the purpose of the book on the front. Now this he could make use of.
While the blonde bitch didn't have any friends he could play with, surely there had to be acquaintances. Utilizing the address book might just be the thing he needed while he worked out what he ultimately wanted to do. Likely it'd be a nice way of blowing off steam seeing as he 'wasn't allowed' to kill the girl just down the hall.
He snorted skeptically at the thought.
Who would have thought he'd have landed in Georgia? And from a fucking portal no less? It was a corny philosophy, but considering the truth of how he had come to be, the words rang a tad more true than usual.
Life really was like one big movie, comprised of every genre: Horror, romance, comedy, action, mystery, fantasy-
The whole works. All of it was involved in some way and everyone had their role to play. There were so many landscapes, too many characters, and an unending list of different stories that intertwined so intricately. It possessed a multitude of rising actions and falling ones, and when it all finally came to an end, finally came to a last curtain call, it was going to have the largest line of credits imaginable.
Still he rolled his eyes at the train of thought and snapped the address book open with a flick of his wrist. The pages came sprawling with the observing way he held it, so with his free hand he thumbed through to peruse the contents properly.
"Let's have a looksee."
Through the eyeholes of 'Father Death', his eyes scanned side to side the neat handwriting he could only assume belonged to Jennifer's mother, Lily. Her lettering was flowy but legible, and there were small doodles in the margins around the more important information that had been done in different colored inks. It appeared she had an affinity for sketching poor renditions of hearts and flowers, but thankfully it didn't hog much of the pages. It was now clear where the youngest, Alysson, got her hobby for drawing from.
Marking the first page with his thumb, he used his other fingers to flip speedily through the rest of the pages to see how much he had to work with. Almost immediately the other pages showed up empty and blank. "So this address book's new." He murmured. Mother dearest must have purchased it for the recent move. It seemed as though the brat hadn't been lying after all. Her family hadn't been in the neighborhood long; Only long enough to start filling at most, four or five of the pages within. Her mother must have been a social butterfly whereas the eldest daughter appeared to rear away from social interaction as a whole.
No matter. Beggars can't be choosers.
"What do you got for me?" Flipping back and forth between the only pages that had been filled out, sliding his gloved forefinger up and down through the orderly sections, he made short work of counting the people within. Most of the names were synonymous with familial groups, which no doubt had to be some of the families that lived in this very neighborhood. There were only two black sheep among the listings however. One was a supposedly single mother while the other a young, lonely bachelor. But all together? He counted six new prospects to choose from.
Six new ways to stave away the boredom of staying in this house.
With a satisfied smirk he clapped the address book closed and let it fall to land on his stomach. In the space of the next moment, his hand was once again shoveling into the depths of his pockets. Once finding the rectangular shape of his phone, he retrieved it.
Ghostface made a low, approving whistle; "Well, well, look at you. Got more than just a fresh coat of paint, huh?"
It was true. The outdated, chunky block of a phone that he had become so accustomed to was now a sleek and slim design: Gone was the classic Motorola, gone was the Nokia, gone was the neat improvement of the flip phone. In the midst of calling Jennifer the other night he had been far too distracted to properly take it all in. In the heat of the moment, he'd had to act fast before his fun had been spoiled. Turns out it had been spoiled regardless, but never mind that.
In his gloved hand he held a device of a more modern origin. No longer would he have to wrestle with unnecessarily large buttons. Only a smooth expanse of a black screen greeted him in return.
His personal cell had gone through various stages of transformation over the years and with every change he had delighted at the technological advances. You could call it one of the many perks of being a fourth dimensional, wall breaking entity such as himself.
What new features would his toy have in store for him now? He tilted his head this way and that, his phone-holding hand mirroring the motions to look over the changes. Having gotten an eyeful of the exterior, he let both of his hands comfortably enclose around the mobile and rest on top of his upper chest.
He took his time letting his fingers get used to the feel of it. Once he had his exploratory fill, he turned the phone on and began to take note of what waited to be seen.
Within awaited a colorful array of apps and widgets to play with. Eyeing the icons, some of which were familiar and some of which weren't, his eyes stopped on one in particular. One of his favorite features. An entire camera roll. He chuckled; "For me? You shouldn't have." Oh he felt absolutely spoiled right now. And judging from the calendar that hung in the kitchen, it wasn't even close to December yet. Almost immediately he was checking his list of contacts. And what do you know, a certain special someone was right at the top of the list with a little star next to it.
With his shadowed gaze set, his eyes lit up at the name. Hey, you.
Sidney Prescott
He felt the thrall of temptation cascade down his body like a perverse waterfall. It was almost enough to give him goosebumps. His index finger rolled back and forth, making the screen slowly rise and fall under the anchor of his fingertip. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Should he?
Noooo..
Would he?
Yeesss..
But what to say? How long had it been? It wasn't that he doubted she'd fail to remember him, oh no, not at all. He knew for a fact she'd never forget him. He wasn't a forgettable guy. No matter how far away she was, no matter how hard she tried to hide, he would always be that little corner of darkness in the very back of her head. He'd be the shaky hand of hesitation poised over a light switch. He'd always be a scar that would never heal, and would serve as a marred reminder that the patch of afflicted flesh would never be clear and smooth to the touch again.
Her days were numbered. That went without saying.
It was only a matter of time before 'Father Death' knocked on her door with the butt-end of a scythe.
How much time though? He could leave right now. He could rush all the way to the Golden State without so much as a backwards glance, but that simply would not do. It wouldn't do at all. It was reckless, it was sloppy, it was wasteful. Leaving now would be a waste of those fresh prospects and not only that, he wasn't finished with Jennifer. While he couldn't kill her right now, he knew her deadline was right around the corner.
A mere two weeks to wait. That was all. In spite of it, it still felt like a humiliating collar around his neck, restricting him from doing as he pleased. Thankfully another part of his mind was stepping forward to soothe him. After the two weeks would pass, he could be back in California within the month, right back to good old Woodsboro where it all began-
Right back to tidying up loose ends.
Ghostface was still eyeball-fucking the letters of Sidney's name, his clothed thumb hovering dangerously over the call symbol. Was she even still living in Woodsboro anymore? Let alone California? Had she pulled a Laurie Strode and changed identities and moved into the middle of bumfucknowhere? If so, he supposed that wouldn't be all bad. He was in the closest state to being in bumfucknowhere as it was. Might make the legwork all the more easier. Maybe, just maybe it'd be less than a month to get to her then. The possibility really put an exclamation point at the end of his good mood. The high of said good mood made the decision for him. Besides, he figured he deserved a reward:
Ah, what the Hell.
Ghostface tapped the call icon and rushed to put it to his masked ear. He was quick enough to savor the beginning thrums of the first ring. At this rate the pant of his breath would greet her first, so he forced himself to relax. The continuous ringing had him feeling like a nervous highschooler with a crush, but he wasn't so much nervous as he was exhilarated.
After the fourth ring, the call went through. It was at that precise moment that he couldn't think of a single fucking thing to say. After all this time, all of this build up, this drawn out foreplay, his mind for once drew a blank. He would have swore if not for what happened next. The sound of a little girl's voice blared excitedly in his ear;
"Hi!"
"Hi," Children, Sid? Maybe he'd been away longer than he'd thought. That's when he heard the unmistakable racket of barking dogs in the background. Not loud enough to be obnoxious, but just loud enough for him to register. This brought to mind two possibilities:
Either it had been long enough for Sidney to garner a family of her own, or the dogs were for protection. Was she finally attempting to move on from her trauma at last? Or was playing homemaker a helpful distraction to keep away the thoughts of her past? Maybe both theories were correct. Whichever one it was, the immediate scenario had a giant grin taking reign over his mouth. He mused slowly; "Who's this?"
"Mm, I'm not supposed to say." His mouth slanted too high on one side. Had her mother sat her down and instructed her on the etiquette of phone conversation? Knowing their shared past, the chance was likely. Sidney had taught her well it seemed. Regardless, he wanted to test her and by proxy, test Sidney Prescott.
"Why not?"
The child huffed; "I'm not allowed." Of course. He couldn't resist the laugh; "In that case, where's your father, sweetheart?" He'd save her mother for last if he could. "Wooorkiing." Was her sing-song reply. Another man in the picture. His mouth pursed. He decided he could rifle through the tinge of jealousy at the thought later. "And your mother? Where is she?"
Her giggly response had his grim expression morphing into a grin; "She's in the back yard picking tomatoeees," The grin doubled in size. Aw, such a descriptive answer. He liked that. Evidently Sid hadn't taught her well enough. That was okay. At least it was for him. Well, well, a family, some pups, and a white picket fence to match. Bet you must be soo proud of yourself, Mrs. Prescott. He was sure she'd fought so hard to be living this little happily ever after. What a shame he was going to take it all away from her.
"Do you wanna talk to her?" Her innocent voice interrupted his thoughts.
Ghostface imagined the child's stubby legs already running in the direction of the back door, likely trained to hand off the phone to Mommy like a good little girl. So he quickly refused, though politely; "Oh no, no. Not yet. I was hoping I'd get to talk to you for a bit first." See what I can learn.
"But Mommy said I shouldn't talk to strangers."
He smirked. Oh I'll bet she did.
"She did, did she?"
He could almost picture the dramatic nod of her head, though not the color of her hair. He wondered briefly if the girl would take after her mother or her father. Just to humor himself he painted her with the same brown color he remembered Sidney sporting.
"Yeah."
"Well how about this? If I told you my name and you told me yours, then we wouldn't be strangers anymore now would we?" Would she pass the test?
She hummed lightly, clearly contemplating as the gears in her head turned; "I guess that's true." Annd that's a no. His mouth flexed with amusement. Maybe next time..
"In that case, you can call me.." Now what would a good name be? What was something that she'd recognize immediately? He wanted to present her mother with what would be a nice blast from the past. And just as fast as he began to ruminate, the answer came.
"You can call me Billy. And your name would be?"
"Maureen." He had to fight back a laugh. How predictable.
"It's nice to meet you, Maureen."
"Thanks! You too!" There was a pause, as if to rethink what she had just said. "At least I think it is." Before the naivety could charm him, the dogs in the background appeared to want his attention instead. Hm. "You got dogs?" What kind were they going to be? Certain breeds would either make or break his earlier theories; For family or convenience? "Yup! Yup!" Now where were those telling answers he liked? He doubled back with a conversational air; "You like dogs?" The question had only just managed to be answered before her reply nearly crushed his last word with an all too ecstatic; "Yees! Dogs are the bestest!" She stopped short, before thoughtfully adding; "Well, except when they're really really loud and their hair gets everywhere. Mommy doesn't like when they get on the furniture, but I always let them on the couch." As if alarmed to have said that out loud for her mother to potentially hear, the little girl whispered too loudly to him; "But don't tell her I do that! Please!"
He smiled sharply; "I won't."
"You promise?" Oh Maureen. "I promise."
She breathed out what must have been a sigh of childish relief. "What kind of dogs are they, Maureen?"
"Oh oh, umm..I don't really remember what Mommy said but they're big and they got pointy ears." She giggled at the imagery. Big with pointy ears, huh? German Shepherds? Doberman Pinschers? Didn't sound so soft and cuddly to him. The adjectives she'd given him gave him more of a guard dog impression. "What're their names?" And how many of the mutts were there? "Ginger and JoJo." Two dogs. He considered. He could work with that. And how ferocious could a 'Ginger' and a 'JoJo' be anyway? A chuckle got lost on its way out of his mask; "That's funny." She giggled as if also entertained by the same thing he was. Silly thing. If only she knew..
"You've got a funny voice, Billy."
As fun as this was, the primary reason of the call was itching at him. He'd had his fun with cute little Maureen. Now he wanted his fun with Mrs. Prescott.
"You want to hear something else funny?"
"Uh-huh!"
His angled his mouth closer in the direction of the speaker, his white jaw no doubt scraping along the glossy casing in doing so; "What's white, brown, and red all over?"
"Mmm...I dunno! What?"
That's when he sharpened his voice into a sinister hiss; "You, when I hang you inside out and leave you to dry." He was going to enjoy her gasp of surprise when the implication kicked in..
Only it never came. The affront he had expected her to take to the threat completely went over her small head; "Wh..I..I don't get it." The smile stilled. So much for subtleties. He took some of the irritation out on her; "Oaw, I'm sorry. I didn't think you would be too stupid to get it."
"Whaa..I'm not! I'm not stupi-"
"Ooh, Maureen," His voice pitched sarcastically to patronize her; "I haate to tell you this, but...You are! Yoouuu arre soo fucking stupid. Your mommy told you not to talk to strangers! And yet heeeree yoou are. Does not listening to her make you bad or does it make you stupid? Which one is it? Hmm?" From her end he could detect the beginning murmurs of hurt. "But! But you said-"
"I know what I said you little cow!"
He was immensely rewarded by the sound of her gasp, followed intimately by the blubbering of confused and startled tears; "B-B-Billy! Whhy did you say thaat! You-You're mean!"
"Buh-Buh-Biillyyy," He mocked her choked, sobbing voice with his own. "Oh believe me, you little brat. You're going to find out that I'm a lot more than mean. Now put your whore of a mother on the phone before I ram those tomatoes down her throat and make you watch as she gasps for breath!"
"Mm-Mmmh-Mmooooommmmyyy!" The little girl wailed her heart out in despair.
That's when there was a slam of a door in the background, the pitch of an alarmed voice barging into earshot. His grip tightened on the phone. Here she comes. He assumed her mother was profusely asking what was wrong because Maureen was nearly incoherently yammering out; "B-Billy said re-really means things. And, and, I don't like him a-anymore! He scared me!" She was hiccupping in fear, her grubby face likely crunched into a wet sheen of terror.
By how swiftly the phone was ripped away, he knew he'd pushed the right buttons.
"Who the hell do you think you are!"
Be still, my heart. It was her. The one and only Sidney Prescott and she was positively livid. He used to dine on her fear, but her anger was just as delectable a course. Whatever she had intended on cooking for dinner was going to be inferior to how sweet this moment was going to be. Now he knew exactly what to say and he said over the line in a purr;
"Someone that's missed you, Sidney. I've missed you a lot."
A loud, abrasive clatter of what sounded like dinnerware crashing to the kitchen floor mingled with the beautiful sound of her breath being snatched away. Maureen's wails were encouraged to increase in volume. Even the dogs voiced their concern, howling and yipping crazily. His eyes closed to burn the sounds into his brain. Those dark, lovely eyes of hers. Were they closed as well? Impossibly wide in a blanch of disbelief? Or were they darting about for his whereabouts?
"No.."
Yes.
"It..It can't be you. You, you were dead. You're dead!"
A pleasantly entertained chuckle spilled from him; "I got better."
The panic had set in now. He could hear it in the way she breathed. "What do you want?" Quick to the point, wasn't she? Quick to ruin his fun. The smile he nursed faltered for a second. Just a second.
"Now, now, you know better than to ask questions you already know the answer to."
While he spoke there were barely distinguishable noises on her end, happening here and there. She thought she was so clever, using the sound of his voice to mask her movements as she scrambled around the house to lock every door. Was she dragging her daughter around with her, a mother bear clinging protectively to her cub? He loved that. He loved when they locked themselves in. Sometimes they'd lock him out, but most times their self preservation only served to lock themselves in with him. She was a pretty bird in a cage, and it was only a matter of time before the cat pawed his way in...And ate the mother and baby canary.
"Not only are you asking rhetorical questions, Sidney, but it seems you've failed to tell your daughter not to answer the phone when unknown numbers call. Not quite mother of the year, are you? It appears you haven't learned your lesson either."
"What did you say to her, you bastard?"
"What? Afraid that I'll tell her the truth? Tell her how her Mommy is a selfish bitch for packing up and dropping everyone around her just to save her own skin?" It was a line he cast out into the ocean of her panic, and he waited to see if she'd bite.
"You won't be able to find me."
Ghostface sneered. So she had moved. It seemed everyone was moving this time of year. Must be something in the air..
"You sound confident, but how sure are you really?"
With the way her breath hitched, she wasn't sure at all. She'd been through this oh so many times. Was he going to be the straw to break the metaphorical camel's back? He pounced on the uncertainty before she could put her brave face on.
"You've done well for yourself, Mrs. Prescott. Big house, your darling Maureen, and such a healthy looking patch of tomatoes. Are you expecting someone to come over for dinner, or is there a Mr. Prescott you've forgotten to introduce me to?" Now he was really fucking with her, really pulling a bluff to see if it she bought it. Can't have her thinking she was safe, now can we?
"I'm not telling you shit." She snarled.
"You don't have to. Your precious daughter already told me so much. Yapped my ear off for so long I had to shut her mouth myself. Can't have her make it too easy for me. That wouldn't do."
"You cocksucker!"
He could almost "tsk" at her. He never understood why she didn't want to play along. His games had been the most exciting thing to have ever happened to her, let alone her sleepy little town. Really she should have been thanking him. The legacy that had paved the way for him had made her into a celebrity. Elevated her to stardom with the tasty profits of a book deal and a film franchise to boot. She should be so lucky. Where was the gratitude she owed him? She could refuse to play along if she wanted to. Either way he was going to find out more about her new life sooner or later. It was inevitable, and the sooner she accepted that, the better. She'd have to play eventually. But alas, each to their own. If she wanted to be stubborn to the very end, he'd let her.
"I know it's been a hot minute, Sidney, but surely you haven't forgotten how to play the game, have you? I ask, you answer. You don't hang up on me, I hang up on you. The rules are fairly simple, even little Maureen could follow along."
"Fuck you!" Her voice shook. In that instant, Ghostface wondered who was gripping their phone harder, him or her.
"Cheating on your husband already?" He feigned a surprised gasp; "That's not very faithful of you, Sidney."
"You leave him out of this. As a matter of fact, you leave my family out of this. Whatever vendetta you have with me, you take it up with me! Leave them alone. Take me instead!"
So becoming a wife and mother had turned her into a symbol of sacrifice? Did she really think she was a hero? She might as well dance around in stupid tights and a cape, even carve an S into her chest. His gaze slid down to his opposite pocket, picturing the knife that lay hidden. Maybe he'd carve it for her when he finished his business here..
"Ooh, that is heroic of you, but you can be honest with me, Sidney. Who are you trying to impress, hm? Admit it, you're the scaredest you've ever been. Pleading with me, begging me to spaare them. Cry all you want, scream it even, it won't make a difference because I'm going to save you for last,"
He'd never felt a higher elation than the sound of her whimper.
"The police won't save you. Your beloved won't save you. Neither will your friends. And those dogs? They sound pretty big. Their corpses are going to take up a lot of space. You're not going to have enough room to run by the time I'm done, filling the room with the bodies of everyone you love."
He continued, the sounds of her helpless sobs urging him on into a near pant; "But I'm not without mercy. I'll let you pick, Sidney! We can even go in alphabetical order. I'll give you the honors of choosing who dies first. How does that sound?"
"Sttoopp..Pleease...PLEASE..No.." Her voice was slightly muffled now. She sounded utterly destroyed, dejected. Did the impact of his words have her curling up into a tiny, pitiful ball on her floor? Or had she sank to her knees in the middle of the living room? Was she cradling her daughter? As a desperate, feeble attempt to keep her grasp on those that mattered to her most? To keep her perfect life from slipping away? Hanging on by a mere motherly thread? He'd do anything to see her right now. To view the tears that surely flowed in rivers down her cheeks. While he was not fortunate enough to see the breathtaking view of the picture he painted in his head, he felt absolutely energized nevertheless.
"That's exactly how I want you in the end, Sidney. Broken and beyond repair. You be a good girl and keep practicing that. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have calls to make, people to kill," A roadtrip to plan. "But don't worry, I'll keep in touch. I promise."
With that he ended the call.
He took a large breath of air and allowed himself nearly a full minute to bask in the fresh sounds of her pain. While he would have spent all day lingering in the afterglow of the interaction, he knew it wouldn't be long before news of his return traveled down the grapevine and he wanted to be the first to relay it. No doubt Sidney had Gale Weathers on speed dial and would be utilizing said feature quite soon. Not to mention, there was an undeniably juicy ego boost in all of this. He wasn't even in the same state as them, yet had the power to endow them with a heady cocktail of paranoia and fear. Well, Sidney was at least going to swallow the concoction whole, the others might bite back the punch of it with a grimace. Ghostface would take it either way.
So he collected himself and scrolled down the contacts until his thumb brushed over the next familiar name.
Gale Weathers
There was no debate to be had this time. The dial tone was ringing in his ear all within seconds of finding her name and clicking to call. To his satisfaction, it was her voice that answered not even after two rings.
"Gale Weathers speaking, who's this?"
Ah, so she still remained in a position of importance. Otherwise she wouldn't be answering to an unknown number so professionally. His lips quirked.
"What's the forecast like, Gale?"
There was a momentary quiet breath taken, shocked and unsteadied; "You."
His head lulled to the side along the armrest; "Me."
He had to admit he was a smidge disappointed that her reaction hadn't been the spectacle that had been Sidney's. However he was too far gone to the feeling of victory to let it take the wind out of his sails. He hadn't even started and he already felt like a winner.
"I've read your book. Not exactly the page turner everyone praises it to be. I usually enjoy some light reading, but your style's rather dry. I especially noticed you had neglected to mention just how handsome and charming I am. You should've had your editor take a look at that before you published it,"
She wasn't responding to the banter. What was she doing? Where was she right now? Had he caught her in public? In the middle of a story, or during her lunch break? Perhaps she was too busy to reply due to her scanning a potential sea of faces. He decided he liked that idea better. She could look as much as she wanted, she wasn't going to find him there. "You know, I've always thought you to be a striking woman, Gale. You may be a little out to pasture for my taste, but I'll bet Dewey is doing his best to make an honest woman out of you."
"Quit the games! Where are you, Ghostface?"
So it had been Dwight that prompted the response. Interesting. If she had remained quiet, he would have chalked it up to her being difficult. Unlike Sidney, Gale didn't appreciate his games, but she could play it well if she wanted to.
"Come now, if I told you all my secrets, I'd lose my mystery."
"Where are you, god damn it!" Her voice was the peak of frustration. It created an humorous image in his head of her whirling around with a cell phone pressed to her ear.
He snickered, well amused; "Wouldn't you like to know.."
"You're not here, are you?"
The mirth on his face somewhat drifted away, but he could appreciate when the person on the other end had something going on up there. She'd caught on quickly. She typically did, he'd give her that. He engaged in the act of changing subjects, replacing her question with one of his own;
"You know what I'd like to know? I'd like to know how you and Dewey are getting along. Last I heard you two lovebirds had tied the knot. I'm not much one for gossip, but I figured I might as well reconnect with old friends seeing as I'll be seeing you real soon."
"Like you care."
"Oh, but I do. Are you two past the newlywed phase already? You should be looking forward to every opportunity to profess your love. Unless," His tone bristled accusingly; "Unless there's trouble in paradise?"
"Only trouble there is is when you come around."
He barked out a laugh; "On the contrary, that's when things start to get interesting. Speaking of which, how has your career been going, Gale? You've been a busy woman for as long as I've known you. Are you up to your neck in stories, because if not, I'm sure I can help you out with that. Free of charge.."
The insinuation of his return was hanging in the air like a promise.
"After all, what are friends for?"
There was a shifting then, a flurry of movement that had him casting his eyes in the direction of the phone against his ear, as if to direct a look to the woman herself. Luckily he didn't have to wait long to know what it was.
"I have to go. I've got another call waiting."
"Hm, that must be Sidney."
Her voice snapped like a whip ready to break skin; "What did you do to her, you fucking-"
"I thought you had a call waiting, Gale. You better go answer it while you still can."
When she hung up, he allowed it with a smile. Two down, one to go. Ghostface scrolled until he found his last call for the day. It couldn't be said that he had saved the best for last. He had been far too deprived to do that.
Dwight Riley
Unfortunately Gale's lesser half didn't answer. Not after the first time. Not after the second time. And definitely not after the third. 'Father Death' didn't even get the luxury of leaving a message for a voicemail. It seemed as though Officer Dewey wasn't taking any chances. At least someone had learned their lesson. He'd have Dwight thank him for it in about a month's time.
Slipping his phone back inside his right pocket, the satisficed phantom stretched somewhat lazily and looked around the cluttered room. The mere sight of his surroundings had his mouth thinning grimly. At least he got to have his treat.
Hell knew it would be the most exciting thing he'd experience in the upcoming two weeks.