Chapter Text
The old, rusty iron of a fire escape, the noises it made, how it felt under leather boots, it was always welcome. It made one certain murderer feel exceedingly safe, as it often signalled the end of a hunt or a stakeout, the return to faint normalcy in a shitty apartment. He didn’t dare to take his mask off just yet—no. He knew better than to risk anyone seeing his face and the face of his criminal personnel to be seen at once. No, he had the thought, at one point, that if he were ever seen sneaking back into his apartment, he’d just stage an attack on himself.
It was only after Danny crept through his window, checked each and every lock, that he dared to take off his mask, to unwind the wires of his voice modifier. A sigh was caught in the small device as he pulled it away from his neck, making it sound echoey, glitched out. It made him giggle.
He shoved his mask, jacket, belts, everything, into a bag, before shoving it under his bed. It was early enough for him to order a pizza, then he could sit down to develop photos: those of a journalistic variety, and those of a sadistic variety.
Tonight’s hunt was good. He needed to be quick about this one, he had pulled off a chain murder that could make a great story if he executed the report properly. He’d set up an interview with a previous victim’s boyfriend at six o’clock, and killed him the night before. No one would find the body until that time, and he’d call the cops. Using phony skills from a phony criminology degree that got him a phony license as a crime scene photographer, he’d mess with the evidence before real law enforcement got there. He’d take his photos to the gazette, and give the cops the less all-encompassing ones. He’d get a raise with the gazette, praise from the sheriff, and pen himself a threatening letter from the Ghostface killer himself. The plan was so perfect, so wonderful, that it flooded his whole system with adrenaline, sending thrilling tremors to his hands as he dialled the number for the Roseville Pizzaria.
“Roseville Pizzaria, where are we delivering to tonight?” a tired, faux-cheery voice answered. He smiled some, recognizing the patented customer service voice as a girl named Amber. He’d had his eye on her for quite a while, and he was honestly disappointed in himself that he didn’t know she’d be manning delivery tonight. In his defense, he had been busy.
“Hey there. 295 Elm Wood Drive, apartment 3,” he answered. There was the sound of a pen scribbling, then a soft sigh.
“Jed Olsen?” Amber asked.
“That’s me.”
“Right, then. What can I get you tonight, Jed? The usual?”
“You all know me so well,” Danny cooed. “Yeah, Chicago with extra pepperoni.”
“Medium?”
“Bingo.”
“Alright,” Amber hummed, noting it down. “Eight dollars at the door.”
“Sounds good, see you then.” Danny began to pull the phone from his ear, to place it back on the ringer, but he was paused.
“Yeah. Um—sorry, can I ask you something?”
“Um,” Danny furrowed his brows. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“You’re, um, you’re the reporter that’s helping with the Ghostface case, right? Sorry, that’s weird, I just recognize your name, and—”
“Slow down, doll. Yeah, that’s me. Why do you ask?”
“Um… just making sure. I just had a question, but I can ask when I get there with the pizza.”
“Uh, sure. Not sure how much I’ll be able to help you, though.”
“Okay. Awesome. We’ll have it out in the next, like, thirty minutes.”
“Sounds good, then…” Danny had to help the grin, wipe it from his face. “See you soon.”
Cocking one brow, he set the line back on its hook. How strange. He was curious as to what Jed Olsen could help her with. He knew that she knew she had been stalked, so what could a perceived journalist do to help her?
In any case, he’d have to brace himself for some self control. It wasn’t often that he got so close to a victim without seeking them out. It would be so easy to kill her, but it would ruin the chain murder, and it would be way too hard to dispose of her body. He didn’t do that sort of dirty work.
He leaned back in his chair, popping the back of his camera open. He removed the roll of film from the night, shoving it into the pocket of his sweatshirt.
Close, safe. Safe with him.
It would be much less dangerous to wait and develop the photos later. No good to have Amber see them. It would be funny, though.
He closed his eyes, the exhaustion of his hunt slowly creeping up on him. He could stand to keep moving, but now that he was stationary, he was slipping. He could afford a bit of a nap, couldn’t he?
Danny awoke to a sharp rap at his door. “A sec!” He called, blinking sleep from his eyes. Had he been out for all thirty minutes?
He pushed himself to stand, dusting off his hoodie with calloused hands. He grabbed his wallet from the counter as he approached the door, ready to see his favorite blonde bimbo squirm under something not quite right.
He opened the door, offering a smile. Among the scars on his face, one sat on his lip, forcing his smile to one side. “Hey…” he pretended to read her name tag in earnest, “Amber?”
“Medium Chicago for Jed,” she answered, uneasy. It made him shiver in sadistic anticipation.
He handed over a ten dollar bill, enough for the pizza, a little extra for her troubles. Though, he thought, she would be in much more trouble soon. “Come in.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, almost afraid that ghostface would somehow hear.
He did.
“So, tell me, what do you think I can do for you?” He asked. He almost sounded irritated. He bit his tongue.
“I just…” Amber began, stepping into the apartment. She closed the door behind her, movements soft and slow. “The police are useless.”
“Yeah,” Danny chuckled. “So, I take it that you’re after information.
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“Well, first, tell me about what’s happening. I assume you or… someone you know, probably? Are you being stalked?” He asked, all too convincing in his curiosity.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I want to tell the cops. I really do, but… shit, he knows everything. He would get me before they even got to my house.”
“Like Alexa Pedretti,” Danny sighed, pulling a slice of pizza from the now open box.
“Exactly. I think… he might have tapped my lines. I mean, he’s been calling me enough that if he really wanted to, I’m sure he could.”
“He’s been calling you?” Danny asked. He furrowed his brows, masking concern. “What does he say?”
“Well… he started by flirting with me. Kinda felt like he was just some guy who accidentally called… that decided to shoot his shot, or something. Then it got creepy. I figured out he only calls when he’s on the property. Maybe in my house. He started playing games, leaving presents. Just showing me he was there, he knew what I was doing, and that I was in danger…” she looked away, rubbing her arms. “He asked me what my favorite scary movie was. I told him. He keeps using quotes when he calls.”
“Jesus. That’s… terrifying.”
“But there’s something else,” she hurried. “And this is something I’ve never heard of, not from the cops, or the news. I’m almost wondering if I’m making it up.”
“Well, making what up?”
“Have you ever noticed if he has an accomplice?”
“An… accomplice?” Danny asked, suddenly uneasy.
“Like, a partner in crime, I mean.”
“I haven’t..” He murmured, shaking his head slowly. “In fact, we ruled that out entirely.”
“Listen, I’m… you might want to look back into that. Um,” Amber huffed, shaking her head. “He’s about six foot five, if I’m gonna guess. Wears blue coveralls and a white mask.”
“I’ve…” he chewed slowly, looking away. “I’ve never heard of this guy.”
“He only shows up when Ghostface is around,” she murmured. “He never looks at me. I’ve figured out, he’s been looking at him, not me. I can never quite see him, but I can figure out where he is.”
Well, Danny didn’t like that. Not one bit.
“Fuck. That… I don’t like that..”
“He’s always holding this big old kitchen knife. I don’t know. It’s… it’s scary, Jed.”
“Yeah, that’s horrifying—”
He sighed, grabbing a notepad from the counter. From his pocket, he produced a pen, beginning notes in a crafted, swirling cursive.
Victim alleges there is a second stalker that accompanies Ghostface. Tall, blue coveralls, white mask, kitchen knife.
He took a moment to think. He didn’t need to kill Amber, not really. Especially now that this was on the table. No, now, he could use her.
He called her cell later that night.
She was off work, or should have been. He’d hooked his voice modulator up, using the cell phone he’d made sure couldn’t be traced.
“Amber Hanson,” a tired voice answered.
“I know.”
She paused. He relished it. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to hear your voice, babe,” he lied smoothly. “It’s so pretty, after all.”
“I don’t have the energy for this, right now…” she whispered, broken.
“I don't care,” he cackled. “But fine, you caught me! I need something from you, sweet Amber.”
“…Sorry?”
“I wanna make a deal with you, babe. Would you hear me out?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. Now, here’s the thing. You talked with that dumbfuck reporter.”
“How did you—”
“I know everything. You know that. Now, I’m interested in what you talked about. I only got bits and pieces, you know? So, you gotta fill me in. And I’ll tell you what: if you help me with this little issue, I’ll forget about you. Hear me? Your name, your schedule, the way I pry your locks, everything. I’ll even burn my notes on you. If you help me, I’ll let you live.”
“What?” She sounded hopeful.
“Yeah. You heard me. Now, do we got a deal?”
“Are you serious?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”
“Atta girl! God, I love when people agree. Now, let me get this straight. You’ve seen… a friend. Someone coming with me.”
“Yeah. Is… does he work with you?”
“Here’s the thing, babe. I’ve got no clue who you were talking about. I work alone. Hell, you think I could share the spotlight with someone else? No.”
“…What?”
“So, here’s the plan. Next time I’m around, I’ll call you. You know, like usual. And you find this fucker, the guy who followed me there, and I’ll stab him, not you. Do we have a deal?”
“…Do you have to stab him?”
“Would you rather I stab you, Amber?” he grinned at the silence. “You might even enjoy the show, honey.”
He hung up with no further elaboration. He had to get to bed. After all, he had an early interview the next morning.