StAlKeRs

Thirty

A/N: Y/A/N = Your Actress Name so the actress you would have play you.

"I don't get it. They get Tori Spelling to play Sid and Y/A/N to play y/n, and they cast Joe Blow Nobody to play me," Randy ranted as we walked to a table with Dewey. We had gotten milkshakes first. "At least you get David Schwimmer. I got the guy who drove Jane Seymore's stagecoach for one episode of Doctor Quinn," Randy went on. We found a table and sat down. He was only complaining because Tori Spelling and Y/A/N were being interviewed for Stab. 

We sat and watched the clip of the movie when Sidney had run into Billy, who was being played by Luke Wilson. Vince Vaughn was playing Stu and I when I tell you there was no resemblance whatsoever. "I'll wait for video. Okay, let's get to business," Randy said after the clip was over. "I bet Billy and Stu are happy they got their movie," I mumbled. Randy put an arm over my shoulder, "Focus," he said and I rolled my eyes. "The way I see it, someone's out to make a sequel," he said. 

"You mean the way we see it? We did talk about this last night... together," I said. He just waved me off, "Yeah. Yeah." He went on to tell Dewey his theory. I didn't mind that he took it on. I just wanted this all to be over already. "You know, cash in on all the movie murder hoopla. So it's our job to observe the rules of the sequel." I let out a sigh and again rolled my eyes. "Hold on tight, Dewey, when he gets started on his rules it never stops," I said, taking a spill of my milkshake. Randy glared at me and Dewey chuckled. 

Number one: The body count is always bigger. Two: The death scenes are always much more elaborate; more blood, more gore. Carnage candy. Your core audience just expects it. And three: If you want your sequel to become a franchise, never ever-'' Dewey cut him off before he could continue. "How do we find the killer, Randy? That's what I wanna know." 

"Oh. Let's look at suspects. There's Derek, the obvious boyfriend. Hello, Billy Loomis." Randy said. "And Stu Macher. But luckily I don't have a boyfriend," I said. "The guy is premed, and his pity-me surface wound conveniently missed every major vein and artery," Randy said. He had a point there. "So you think it's Derek?" Dewey asked. "Not so fast. Let's assume the killer or 'ers, has a half a brain. He's not a Nick At Night rerun type of guy," I said. "He wants to break some new ground. Right? So forget the boyfriend," Randy said. "Right." 

"It's tiring. Who else do we got?" I asked. Randy and I looked at Dewey who was trying to follow along with our craziness. "There's-" he thought. "Mickey, the freaky Tarantino film student," I said. Dewey just nodded his head. "But if he's a suspect, so are me and y/n. So, let's move on," Randy said. "True. I mean it's not me seeing as I was fucking stabbed!" I half yelled. "You could be helping," Randy said. I gave him a look and he shrugged. "Whoa, wait a-line let's not move on. Maybe you are a suspect. The both of you," Dewey said. "We're suspects more than you're a suspect," Randy said. "You have a point. Okay, let's move on to-." 

"Hallie," Randy said. "Sid's roommate? No way," I said. "Uh-huh," Randy smiled. "Serial killers are typically white males," Dewey said. "That's why it's perfect. It's sort of against the rules, but not really. That's why y/n could be a suspect," Randy said. "True. Mrs. Voorhees was a terrific serial killer. And there's always room for Candyman's daughter," I said. Randy was nodding and smiling. He was way too into this. "She's sweet. She's deadly. She's bad for your teeth," he said. I scoffed out a laugh and shook my head. 

"Come on, guy's. These kids are your friends. Who do you think is the killer?" Dewey asked. "Look, Dewey, it's usually someone you know. We had a tight-knit group of friends in Woodsboro and two of them turned out to be killers," I said. Randy looked over at me and drank his milkshake. "What about Gale Weathers?" I said. "Gale? A killer?" Dewey asked. "Yeah. I mean she's always looking for a story. Kill a few people, make it look like ghostface is back and boom-- she has her new book," I said. Randy pointed at me and nodded his head. "No. Gale's a lot of things, but Gale's not a killer," Dewey said. I leaned back in my chair and Randy did the same, slinging an arm behind me. 

"Listen. Just because you're sweet on her-" Randy said. "No, I'm not. What about you two?" Dewey said, pointing at us. "What about us?" I asked. "You two seem to be sweet on each other. Maybe you're the killers playing this all out because of what happened to you," he said. Randy and I looked at each other and laughed. "Can't be us. Randy and I were at the party when CiCi was killed. There are plenty of witnesses," I said. "What about the other two?" He asked. "Would catch me dead watching that movie. Besides I'm one of the final girls, people would have been all over me," I said. Dewey just nodded. 

"Please, this is me talking. Randy, the unrequited love-slave of Sidney Prescott, the sister of my beat friend. I know all about obsession and pain," Randy said. He pulled back the collar of his shirt to show his scar from where Billy shot him. I shifted in my seat remembering it like it was yesterday. Billy standing at the door with Dewey's gun. I remember when Randy went flying back breaking the table that sat in the foyer. "You've got your love scar to prove it," Dewey said. "And so do you," Randy told him. "Yeah, but yours isn't just for Sid. It's for y/n, too," Dewey told him. "Of course it is. If do anything for her. She's been my best friend forever," Randy told him. 

I thought around the scar on my stomach from where Stu stabbed me. I was caught up in the past until Randy spoke again. "And what's with that limp anyway, cause you were stabbed in the back," he asked Dewey. "Severed nerves. Look, Gale's no killer. What about Billy and Stu? Maybe they're back again. I shook my head. "No. Makes no sense for them to recreate Woodsboro," I said. "If Gale isn't a killer then she's a target," Randy said. "We all are," I said.