Detective || Scream1996 x M!reader

Ending: B,2

You crumpled to the floor, pain radiating from the two deep stab wounds in your stomach, but just as you felt yourself slipping away, Stu's grip tightened around you, preventing you from collapsing completely.

He shoved you into the corner of the kitchen, your back pressed against the cold wall, and in a twisted mockery of reality, the two killers began to turn on each other, staging a gruesome display to make it look like they were the victims.

"Right, get it up! Hit it!" Stu shouted, his voice laced with manic excitement.

With a swift motion, Billy drove the hunting knife into Stu's chest, a gleam of adrenaline in his eyes as he pulled it out and plunged it back in again, then again, and again, each thrust more violent than the last.

Stu finally crumpled to the floor, but not without a weak, pained smile as he managed to compliment, "Good one, man."

"Jesus...Oh shit! My turn!" Stu exclaimed, clearly reveling in the chaos.

"Remember, stay to the side, don't go too deep," Billy advised, his voice dripping with irony as if he were giving a casual cooking lesson rather than orchestrating a bloody facade.

"Okay, I'll remember!" Stu responded, grabbing his knife of choice and plunging it into Billy's chest with all the enthusiasm of a kid opening a present on Christmas morning.

He pulled it out and stabbed him a second time, but then Billy smacked his hand away and ripped the knife from his own wound, jabbing it back toward Stu.

"FUCK," Billy screamed, the raw intensity of his emotions spilling over. "GOD DAMN IT, STU!!"

"Sorry, Billy. Guess I got a little too zealous, huh?" Stu replied, his voice nonchalant despite the blood seeping from his own wounds.

"Give me the knife," Billy demanded, his expression darkening.

"No" Stu pounted

"Give me the knife! NOW!!" Billy's voice rose with irritation, and you could see the tension between them reaching a boiling point.

With a reluctant sigh, Stu handed the knife back to Billy, who threw it across the room with surprising force, the blade embedding itself into the entrance hallway. Despite the blood soaking his shirt and the wounds he had sustained, he exuded an unsettling confidence, like he could take on the world.

"And now, Y/N," Stu began, his voice taking on an almost theatrical tone, "everybody's dead but us! And the three of us get to go plan the sequel! 'Cause let's face it, baby, these days, you gotta have a sequel!"

You felt your heart racing as the reality of their twisted game settled over you like a suffocating blanket. They were so caught up in their own show that they didn't even realize how precarious their situation was.

You bolted down the hallway, the adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as you listened to the chaotic exchange in the kitchen behind you.

You had to focus, to stay ahead of them, but the sound of their voices echoed through the house like a twisted soundtrack of horror.

"Uh, Huston... we have a problem here," Stu's voice carried, laced with a hint of panic.

"What?" Billy shot back, his anger palpable.

"The gun man! The gun! You put it right here, and it's not here!" Stu sounded frantic now.

"Where the fuck is it?!" Billy's voice rose, sharp and demanding.

"Right here, asshole," a new voice interjected, and your heart skipped a beat. It was the news lady, Gale Weathers, standing there looking like she had clawed her way back from the brink of death. But she was alive, and that gave you a glimmer of hope.