mess it up, ˢᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉⁿᵗᵉʳ

𝟎𝟎𝟖.

Gale led the group to a heavy, industrial security door tucked away at the back entrance of a dilapidated building that reeked of neglect and old secrets.

The faded brick walls were cracked and stained, the kind of place no one would stumble upon unless they were looking with a purpose.

With a practiced hand, Gale slid a keycard through the swipe lock. The lock buzzed and clicked open with a mechanical whirr that echoed like a warning in the stale air.

"Jason and Greg were little Atlanta rich boys," Gale explained with a hint of pride in her voice, "but they used false names to rent this place."

Kirby, the FBI agent, narrowed her eyes, clearly skeptical. "How'd you find it?" she asked the journalist pointedly.

Gale shot her a sharp look. "It's called 'investigative journalism' for a reason." The words carried a smugness that Madison could almost taste.

Madison rolled her eyes subtly, the tension tightening in her chest. There were bigger things to focus on than petty digs. Her gaze flicked toward Kirby, who looked frustrated.

"How didn't you find this? Weren't you tracking them?" Gale pressed, clearly trying to get a rise out of Kirby.

Kirby ran a hand through her hair, her face clouded with confusion. "I went through their financial records dozens of times. This place... wasn't in any of them. It doesn't make sense."

Madison exchanged a look with Sam. Leaning heavily on her girlfriend for support, she felt the familiar ache in her leg, the sharp sting beneath the gauze wrapping her thigh.

Every step felt like a battle.

"Don't worry. I'm just really good at my job. You'll get there," Gale said with a self-satisfied smirk as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Madison muttered under her breath, "Childish," to the Carpenter sisters, earning a quiet snicker from them.

The darkness inside the room swallowed them whole.

Sam squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim, lightless space. "What is this place? What's with all the security?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tara's voice broke the silence. "It's a movie theatre."

Madison shook her head firmly. "It's not just a theatre. It looks like a shrine."

The group's collective breath hitched as Gale pressed a button on the wall.

The lights flicked on, revealing row upon row of Ghostface cloaks, hanging like macabre trophies, chillingly familiar without the masks.

"Holy fuck," Madison breathed, stepping back and leaning heavily into Chad, who caught her without hesitation.

Mindy circled slowly, eyes wide and unblinking. "He's got the whole goddamn franchise."

Then, her voice softened. "Chad! Madi! This was Uncle Randy's."

The weight of the moment pressed down on them.

Wayne muttered with quiet sympathy, "You've all been through so much..."

"How did they get all this stuff? Isn't it evidence?" Tara asked, unease creeping into her tone.

Gale shrugged with a cynical edge. "Cops like money, and evidence can 'get lost' pretty easily, especially in closed cases." She caught the looks on Kirby and Wayne's faces and added, "Present company excluded, of course."

Ethan shifted uneasily, crossing his arms. "Why am I here, exactly? My alibi checks out."

Chad grinned and made an exaggerated 'I'm watching you' motion with his hands. "So I can keep an eye on you, roomie."