mess it up, ˢᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉⁿᵗᵉʳ

𝟎𝟏𝟔.

Madison tore down the ladder like her body was on fire, not even thinking to grab the axe she'd left behind.

Heroism didn't matter anymore, not in this moment. The only thing she cared about was Sam. Saving Sam. Keeping her breathing. Keeping her alive.

Upstairs, Sam had already risen from the floor with quiet, deadly resolve, silently signaling for both Madison and Tara to follow her lead.

Madison's breath caught when Sam handed her Stu Macher's Ghostface mask and the bloodstained robe.

It felt wrong just to look at it, like the fabric itself was cursed. "You're serious?" Madison asked, giving her a flat look, like she was waiting for Sam to laugh and take it back.

"Yes, put it on. We're not them, I promise you," Sam said, her voice low but steady as she pressed a kiss to Madison's cheek. "But I think we should scare him before he gets what's coming to him."

There was no turning back now.

They moved in tandem behind the stage, hiding in the dark, watching Wayne Bailey pace the floor like a caged animal, his gun raised, his voice brittle with panic.

He was on the phone with Tara, but he didn't know it was her. He thought it was Sam, or maybe Madison. That uncertainty was eating him alive, and Madison relished it.

She was sweating under the heavy Ghostface mask, heat and dread pressing against her skin. The air inside the mask felt suffocating.

She didn't know how anyone could stand wearing it for long. Then again, people like Ethan, Quinn, and Wayne were already broken. Maybe the mask made them feel whole.

Wayne's voice cracked as he shouted, "I'm a fucking police officer! How do you think this is gonna go? Who do you think they're gonna believe, huh?"

Madison and Sam stepped out from the shadows at the exact same time, their voices in eerie unison through the modulators.

"Probably the one who's still alive."

The words cut through the air like a blade. Wayne froze.

Before he could fully react, they lunged. The glint of their knives flashed under the fluorescents as they stabbed him again and again.

No hesitation. No mercy.

The metal punched through flesh like it was paper, and Wayne's screams became choked gurgles.

They pulled their masks off, blood dripping from their blades, meeting each other's eyes with a shared, quiet fire.

Not satisfaction, but justice.

Survival. A final stand.

Madison raised her knife again, jaw clenched tight, but Tara emerged just then, climbing onto the stage.

"My father was a murderer. No matter what you think, I'm better than that. So is Madison," Sam said coldly, her voice trembling with restraint.

Wayne, now coughing up blood, actually whispered, "Thank you." He thought they were sparing him.

Tara gave a slight tilt of her head. Sam and Madison exchanged a knowing look before they turned back toward Wayne.

"But you did fuck with our family, so..." Sam's voice was a death sentence.

Together, they drove their blades into his eyes. Wayne let out a shriek unlike anything human before he collapsed, spasming violently on the stage.

His body twitched once. Twice.

Then silence.

"An eye for an eye," Madison breathed, her voice shaking.

"Nice," Tara muttered, and both girls gave her a breathless nod of gratitude.