A/N: We are at 967 views! So close to 1,000! Thank you everybody for all the support. I apologize for the wait, I work 12 hour shifts and don't always have time to write :(
The police station buzzed with quiet activity as Sidney and Roman walked through the entrance, their polished demeanor concealing the dark truths that had bound them together for the last decade. Sheriff Wydell waited just inside, his expression tense as he motioned for them to follow him further inside.
"I appreciate you both coming down," Wydell said, his tone clipped.
"What's going on?" Sidney asked, her tone calm but edged with just the right amount of concern.
Wydell glanced over his shoulder as they walked toward the interview room. "Your cousin Jill and her friends, Olivia Morris and Kirby Reed, received some troubling calls this morning. Someone using the Ghostface voice."
Sidney's lips pressed into a thin line, while Roman raised an eyebrow, his expression one of feigned disbelief.
"Ghostface?" Roman said, his voice carefully measured. "It's been ten years. Who the hell brings that back?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Wydell muttered as he opened the door to the interview room.
Inside, Jill sat on a chair near the wall, looking tense but controlled. Olivia stood by the window, arms crossed, while Kirby sat cross-legged on another chair, clearly trying to downplay her unease.
As Sidney and Roman entered, Jill's eyes lit up. "Sidney! Roman!" she said, standing quickly.
Jill walked over and hugged them both, first Sidney and then Roman. She lingered slightly longer with Sidney, but Roman didn't let the subtle imbalance bother him.
"Are you okay?" Sidney asked Jill, her voice carefully layered with concern.
Jill nodded. "Yeah, it's just... weird, you know?"
Olivia moved closer, her arms still crossed. "We both got calls this morning," she explained, her voice firm. "Same creepy crap you'd expect: 'What's your favorite scary movie?' The voice was exactly like the one from the movies."
Kirby raised a hand from where she sat. "For the record," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm, "I didn't get a call. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
Roman smirked, tilting his head as if considering the question seriously. "Well," he said slowly, "it could go either way. Not everyone who gets killed in Stab gets a phone call first."
Kirby's eyes widened as she gasped dramatically, spinning to face Jill and Olivia. "Oh my God! Did you hear that? I'm gonna be next!"
Jill gave her an amused glance, her lips curving into a small smile. "Relax, Kirby," she said, her tone light but carrying an edge of mock reassurance. "Nobody's dying."
Roman chuckled under his breath, while Sidney gave him a subtle look, one that silently reminded him to stay in control.
Sheriff Wydell stepped forward, clearing his throat to regain everyone's attention. "We're not jumping to conclusions," he said firmly. "We're investigating the calls and trying to trace the numbers. Until we know more, we're treating this as a precautionary measure."
Sidney nodded, her expression neutral but cooperative. "Of course. Whatever you need from us."
Roman glanced at Jill and Olivia, his tone soft but calculated. "Just stick together," he said. "Whoever's doing this wants to scare you. Don't give them the satisfaction."
Jill nodded, her face carefully composed. "Thanks," she said, her voice steady but low.
The air in the room remained tense, though Kirby's occasional quips helped lighten it. Sidney and Roman lingered near the door, their roles as concerned family members flawlessly maintained.
As Sidney listened to Sheriff Wydell outline the next steps, her mind turned over the implications. Someone had brought Ghostface back into the spotlight. For ten years, Sidney and Roman had owned the game.
Now, someone else wanted to play.
Roman leaned slightly toward Sidney as Wydell spoke, his expression serious but his voice a whisper only she could hear.
"Think it's another fan?" he murmured.
Sidney didn't answer, her gaze fixed on Jill and her friends.
The moment the police station doors closed behind them, Sidney and Roman's carefully constructed façade fell away like a mask. The feigned concern, the composed smiles, and the soft reassurances dissipated, replaced by the sharp, calculating glances they reserved only for each other.
Sidney kept her strides measured, her gaze straight ahead as they walked toward their rental car. Roman followed close beside her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his expression dark and pensive.
As soon as they reached the car, Roman let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Well, that was convenient," he muttered, his voice dripping with suspicion.
Sidney unlocked the car with a beep, glancing at him sideways. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Roman leaned against the car door, crossing his arms as he stared at her. "Come on, Sid," he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and accusation. "Jill? She gets a Ghostface call—what, hours after we roll into town? And we're supposed to believe that's a coincidence?"
Sidney raised an eyebrow, sliding into the driver's seat and leaving the door open as she turned to face him. "You think Jill's involved?" she asked, her voice calm but incredulous.
Roman slid into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. "I think it's awfully convenient," he said again, his tone sharper this time. "She's related to us, Sid. You know what that means."
Sidney started the car, but her gaze lingered on him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It means nothing," she said firmly. "Jill's just a kid. She's not like us."
Roman let out a soft, derisive laugh. "You mean she's not like me," he shot back, his tone pointed.
Sidney's jaw tightened, but she didn't rise to the bait. She shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, her grip on the wheel firm.
"You're overthinking it," she said after a moment, her voice quieter but no less resolute. "Jill's scared, just like Olivia and Kirby. This has nothing to do with her."
Roman leaned back in his seat, letting out a long sigh. "Fine," he said, his tone less argumentative but still laced with doubt. "If you say so."
Sidney's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, but her mind was churning. She understood Roman's instinct to suspect Jill—after all, he knew better than most how much blood could tie people together. But this time, she wasn't ready to let paranoia dictate their next move.
Roman glanced out the window, his fingers drumming idly on his knee. "I'm just saying," he muttered, more to himself than to Sidney, "if it were me, I'd start with the people closest to us."
Night had fallen over Woodsboro, casting Jill's neighborhood in deep shadows interrupted only by the occasional flicker of a streetlamp. Inside the Roberts' home, the atmosphere was warm but tense, the quiet hum of conversation barely masking the unease lingering in the air.
Sidney and Roman sat with their Aunt Kate in the living room, the faint glow of the television providing a soft backdrop. Outside, the occasional flash of police lights illuminated the windows as part of the protection detail stationed nearby.
"I can't tell you how much better I feel with you two here," Kate said, her voice heavy with gratitude. She clutched a mug of tea tightly, her eyes flicking nervously toward the window. "The cops are fine, but... it's different with family, you know?"
Sidney smiled reassuringly, her tone calm. "We're happy to be here," she said. "You're not alone in this."
Roman leaned back in his chair, his demeanor casual but his eyes sharp as they took in the room. "Whoever this guy is," he said smoothly, "he's in over his head. Trust me, he has no idea who he's dealing with."
Sidney glanced at him, and their eyes locked briefly. It was a subtle exchange, a silent understanding passing between them.
Kate let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "You two are so calm," she said, her voice tinged with admiration. "After everything you've been through, I don't know how you do it."
Roman offered a faint smirk. "You get used to it," he said simply.
Meanwhile, in Jill's bedroom, Kirby lounged on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone while Jill sat at her desk, pretending to do homework.
"You know," Kirby said, her voice breaking the silence, "you're seriously lucky."
Jill glanced at her, her brow furrowing slightly. "Why's that?"
Kirby rolled her eyes, tossing her phone onto the bed. "Uh, because your cousins are, like, legends? Sidney Prescott is literally the most infamous survivor of all time, and Roman Bridger is a big-time Hollywood director. That's insane."
Jill felt the familiar sting of jealousy rising in her chest, but she masked it with a laugh. "Yeah, it's... something," she said, keeping her tone neutral.
"Something?" Kirby snorted. "Come on, Jill. You've got a front-row seat to history. I'd kill for a family like that."
Jill turned back to her desk, her fingers gripping the edge tightly. She didn't need Kirby reminding her of what she already knew. Sidney had been thrust into the spotlight by tragedy, and Roman had turned his family's story into a career. They had fame, admiration, the attention. And Jill? She was the forgotten cousin, always in their shadow.
It wasn't just Sidney. Roman's success had been equally infuriating. While Sidney was celebrated as the ultimate survivor, Roman had turned their shared trauma into a Hollywood empire, cementing himself as both a creator and a victim in the public eye.
But Jill didn't let any of that show. She turned back to Kirby with a small, easy smile. "It's not all it's cracked up to be," she said lightly. "Trust me."
Kirby rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, okay, sure. You're over here sharing a house with two icons, and I'm stuck binge-watching Stab movies for the hundredth time. Totally the same."
Jill laughed faintly, brushing Kirby off as she turned back to her desk. Her fingers dug into the wood slightly, her nails pressing crescents into the surface.
Icons, she thought bitterly. Not for long.
Jill lay on her bed, resting comfortably against a stack of pillows, as the flickering glow of Shaun of the Dead played on the TV across the room. Kirby lay next to her, laughing at the on-screen antics while munching on a handful of chips.
Jill's phone buzzed beside her, and she picked it up to see Olivia's name flashing on the screen. She answered, keeping her voice casual.
"Hey," Jill said. "What's up? You don't want to come up?"
"Nope," Olivia replied, her tone firm. "I'd rather stay far away from Sidney. I mean, even Gale and Dewey didn't survive John Milton's spree. Why would I take that chance?"
Jill smirked faintly, glancing at Kirby, who was obliviously engrossed in the movie. "Seriously? You're just going to hide out next door?"
"Uh, yeah," Olivia said with a hint of dry humor. "Call me when she's gone. Until then, I'm staying right here where it's safe."
Jill rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "Fine, suit yourself. But you're missing zombie comedy gold."
Olivia snorted lightly on the other end of the line. "Yeah, yeah. Sure. What's next, you want me to come over for a slumber party?"
Before Jill could reply, Kirby's phone rang loudly, startling both of them. Kirby reached for it, checking the screen before groaning in annoyance. "Ugh, Trevor."
She answered with zero patience. "What do you want?"
But the voice that came through wasn't Trevor's.
"I want to talk to Jill," Ghostface rasped, the distorted voice sending a chill through the room.
Kirby blinked, her irritation turning to confusion. "Well, she doesn't want to talk to you," she snapped, shaking her head as though to dispel the unease the voice brought.
Jill smirked, her heart thrumming in anticipation as she pretended to focus on the movie. She could feel the tension rising in the room, the thrill of her plan inching closer to fruition.
On the phone, Olivia's voice cut in. "What's going on over there?" she asked, her tone suddenly wary.
Jill's smirk grew, though her expression remained calm and composed. Almost time, she thought to herself, her gaze flicking toward the window.
Olivia was next.
Kirby frowned, pulling the phone slightly away from her ear and giving Jill an incredulous look. "Trevor's being a weirdo," she muttered, shaking her head.
Jill barely glanced at her, keeping her tone casual. "What else is new?"
Kirby rolled her eyes and put the phone back to her ear. "Look, Trevor, whatever you're trying to pull—"
The distorted voice cut her off mid-sentence, smooth and chilling.
"A weirdo," Ghostface rasped, "who's already in the house."
Kirby froze, her face twisting into confusion. "Prove it," she said, trying to mask the flicker of unease in her voice.
There was a pause, and then Ghostface's voice came again, low and deliberate. "How's Shaun of the Dead?"
Kirby's breath caught, her eyes darting to the TV. "What the hell? How do you know that?" she demanded.
The answer was immediate, delivered with a sinister edge. "Because I'm standing in the closet."
Kirby sat up straighter, her grip tightening on the phone as she turned to glance at the closet across the room. Jill's room suddenly felt much smaller, the shadows deeper and the air heavier.
On the other line, Olivia's voice crackled, her tone sharp and panicked. "Jill, what's going on?"
"I don't know," Jill replied smoothly, feigning concern as she looked at Kirby with a furrowed brow. Her voice stayed even, masking the anticipation bubbling beneath the surface.
Kirby glanced at Jill, her voice tinged with defiance as she addressed Ghostface. "You know there are cops right outside, right? And, oh, I don't know, the two people who killed John Milton are inside?"
The distorted voice chuckled darkly. "Then I guess I've got just enough time to slice someone open."
The room's atmosphere shifted, the tension palpable as Kirby stood abruptly, her gaze locked on the closet.
She stormed toward it, the phone still pressed to her ear. "You're full of crap," she said, her voice rising as her hand gripped the doorknob. "I'm gonna prove it right now!"
With a sharp yank, Kirby flung the closet door open. The empty space inside stared back at her, nothing but hanging clothes and the faint scent of fabric softener.
She lowered the phone slightly, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk. "Liar," she spat.
The voice on the other end was unfazed, even amused.
"I never said I was in your closet," Ghostface rasped.
Kirby's eyes widened as she looked to Olivia's house.
The closet door in Olivia's room burst open with a deafening crash. Ghostface lunged out, his knife glinting as he charged at Olivia.
"Jesus Christ!" Kirby screamed, pressing herself closer to the window as Olivia stumbled back, trying to evade the attacker.
Ghostface struck out with the blade, forcing Olivia toward her bed. Her screams became frantic, her movements panicked as she tried to fight him off.
Jill staggered back from the window, her eyes wide with well-acted fear. "Oh my God! He's in her bedroom!" she cried, pointing to Olivia's window.
Downstairs, Sidney and Roman sat in the living room, the muffled sound of shouting catching their attention. Sidney's brow furrowed as she stood abruptly.
"Do you hear that?" she asked Roman, her tone sharp.
Roman listened for a second before nodding. "Yeah. Sounds like it's coming from upstairs," he said, already moving toward the staircase.
The two bolted up the stairs, the voices growing clearer with every step.
"What the hell is going on?" Roman barked as they entered Jill's room, his gaze immediately snapping to the two girls near the window.
Sidney followed, her eyes darting to Kirby, then Jill, and finally to the scene unfolding through the window. Ghostface was on top of Olivia, his knife slashing as she flailed in terror.
"Oh my God," Sidney muttered, her voice dropping as she watched the chaos.
Jill turned to them, her face pale and tear-streaked, keeping her composure perfectly calibrated. "It's Olivia!" she said, her voice breaking. "He's in her room!"
Sidney and Roman rush downstairs and out of Jill's house, the chill of the night air hitting them as they sprinted across the lawn toward Olivia's front door. Sidney's breath came quickly, though her mind remained razor-sharp, assessing the situation. Roman followed close behind, his expression set in a grim mask.
As they reached the porch, Sidney turned to Roman, her voice low but firm. "You go around back. If he's still here, we can cut off his escape."
Roman didn't hesitate. "Got it." He disappeared into the shadows around the side of the house, moving with a practiced efficiency that spoke to his years of experience—and his true nature.
Sidney pushed open the front door, which swung inward with an unsettling creak. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of a television coming from upstairs. Her grip on her phone tightened as she ascended the staircase, each step deliberate and cautious.
The air grew heavier as she reached the second floor, her senses heightened. The faint glow of Olivia's bedroom light spilled into the hallway, the door slightly ajar. Sidney approached slowly, her body tense as she nudged the door open.
What she saw stopped her in her tracks.
Olivia's lifeless body lay sprawled across her bed, the sheets soaked in crimson. Blood spattered the walls and the floor, telling the story of a brutal, violent struggle. Her arms were outstretched, defensive wounds slashed deep into her forearms, and her neck was marred with jagged gashes.
Sidney tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. Brutal, she thought, the corner of her mouth twitching in an almost imperceptible smirk. This wasn't amateur work. Whoever this Ghostface was, he had given even Stu Macher a run for his money in terms of sheer brutality.
The silence was broken by the shrill ring of her phone, startling her out of her thoughts. She pulled it from her pocket, glancing at the screen. The number was unknown.
Sidney answered, her voice flat and unamused. "What?"
The familiar distorted voice on the other end sent a chill through the air.
"Welcome home, Sidney," Ghostface rasped, the words dripping with malice.
Sidney's eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to Olivia's body, her gaze scanning the scene for any detail she might have missed. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone steady despite the tension crackling in the air.
Ghostface chuckled softly, the sound low and sinister. "What I've always wanted. To see you again."
"These are innocent people," Sidney said sharply, her voice steady, playing the part of the weary survivor.
Ghostface let out a low, mocking laugh. "Spare me the lecture, Sidney. Innocent? Please. They're just props for the stage. You should know—you've been in this movie long enough."
Sidney's jaw tightened, but her tone remained cold. "Why now? After ten years, why bring this back?"
"Because it never left," Ghostface said smoothly. "You can run, but you can't hide forever. I've been waiting for you to come home."
Sidney tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, though her mind churned. Whoever this was, they were bold—arrogant, even. A slight smirk ghosted her lips, but her voice remained sharp and biting. "You're just another wannabe. A pale imitation of the real thing."
Ghostface's tone turned venomous, his voice low and dangerous. "Careful, Sidney. You're not the only one with scars."
Sidney opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs drew her attention. Her eyes flicked toward the doorway just as Jill appeared at the top of the staircase.
Sidney's heart skipped—not in fear, but in suspicion. Why the hell did she follow me?
She quickly stepped into the doorway, blocking Jill's view of the carnage behind her. "Jill," Sidney said firmly, her tone sharp. "You shouldn't be here. Go back downstairs."
Jill's face was the picture of concern, her eyes wide and her voice soft but steady. "I thought you might need help," she said.
Sidney's brow furrowed slightly. Help? Jill had no reason to think she couldn't handle herself. The girl had practically grown up hearing about Sidney Prescott, the woman who survived every attack. It didn't make sense.
"Just go," Sidney said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Jill hesitated, her head tilting slightly as though she were debating whether to push further.
Then, behind Jill, the shadows shifted.
Sidney's sharp eyes caught the movement first—Ghostface stepping silently out of the hallway's darkness, his knife raised high.
"Jill, move!" Sidney barked, her voice slicing through the tension.
Jill turned just as Ghostface lunged at her. She screamed, her arms flying up to protect herself as the blade slashed down, grazing her elbow.
Ghostface lunged forward, his knife slashing through the air in a quick, precise arc. Sidney sidestepped at the last second, her movements fluid as she twisted away from the blade.
"Not bad," she muttered, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her weight, readying herself.
Ghostface didn't reply, the mask hiding any hint of emotion as he closed the gap between them. He jabbed again, the knife aiming for her ribs, but Sidney deflected the blow with a sharp strike to his forearm.
"Been a while since I had to dance like this," Sidney said, her voice tight as she ducked another swing.
Ghostface responded with brutal efficiency, using his free hand to shove her backward. She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the doorframe just as the knife sliced through the air where her neck had been moments before.
Sidney retaliated quickly, stepping forward with a sharp elbow to his chest, sending him staggering back a step. Ghostface recovered instantly, his body language shifting into a predatory crouch. He feinted left, then came at her from the right, forcing her back into the hallway.
Their movements were fast and chaotic, every strike and counterstrike echoing through the house. Sidney blocked a thrust aimed at her abdomen, grabbing his wrist and twisting sharply. The knife clattered to the floor, and for a brief moment, she had the upper hand.
But Ghostface moved quickly, ramming his shoulder into her midsection and driving her into the wall. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, but Sidney gritted her teeth, using the momentum to throw an awkward punch that landed squarely on the mask.
The blow knocked Ghostface off balance, and they both tumbled toward the staircase.
Sidney felt the world tilt as she grabbed at the banister, her grip slipping as Ghostface's weight dragged them both down. They fell together, crashing onto the stairs in a tangle of limbs. The descent was chaotic, their bodies colliding with the wooden steps until they hit the landing with a thud.
Dazed but determined, Sidney scrambled to her knees, her hands instinctively reaching for the knife. But Ghostface was faster. He lunged for the weapon, scooping it up and backing away, his chest heaving beneath the dark robes.
Sidney pushed herself upright, glaring at him as the distant sound of sirens filled the air. The flashing red and blue lights from the police cars outside painted the walls in shifting colors.
Ghostface turned his head slightly, the mask tilting as though he were assessing his options. Then, without a word, he darted toward the back of the house.
"Coward," Sidney spat, forcing herself to her feet and staggering after him.
By the time she reached the back door, it was wide open, the night swallowing any sign of her attacker. She stepped outside, her eyes scanning the yard, but he was already gone.
The front door burst open, and officers poured into the house, weapons drawn. Sidney turned, her expression a mask of calm despite the chaos around her.
"He's gone," she said simply, her tone tight with frustration.
A/N: Oh boy! It's about to get real soon. I had alot of fun writing a villainous Sidney. I tried to base her off her villainous roles in other media like The Craft and Twisted Metal. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO REVIEW! I DO NOT CENSOR REVIEWS!