Scream 3 [✓]

Prologue

One year later

Far away down the night sky stood a new 99' Explorer, sitting in the midst of the usual Friday night traffic.

The windshield wipers of the car barely kept up with the cold, hard rain lashing against the window as the person sitting behind the wheel was in the middle of a heated argument on their cell with their Agent, Cathy.

"Cotton, I will not sit around and listen to you bad mouthing me! Without me you would've never gotten as famous as you are todat. The least you can do is show me a little god damn respect."

"You want respect, Cathy? Here's your respect. Fuck you, you're fired," and with those words, Cotton hung up the phone and socked the steering wheel out of frustration.

STAB 3: Return To Woodsboro. Whats's next, Friday The 13th: Jason Does Broadway?

He could hear the phone ringing again and picked up. "Christine?"

"No, Jennifer Love Hewitt. Of course it's me, silly. And I feel like an ass standing in this theater lobby all by myself. Where are you, babe? The movie starts in twenty minutes."

"Look. I'm stuck on the freeway. I think there was some big accident. It could be a little while so I don't want you to start freaking if I don't get there at exactly eight thirty," he blandly told his girlfriend.

"All I'm saying is I'm gonna be royally P.O'd if you don't catch my acting debut."

Cotton put on faux-enthusiasm. "Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world. I bet you did such a great job."

"I did. Hon, although I got a total of six minutes screen time, they're the best six minutes of the movie."

Cotton chuckled. "I bet they are, babe. I bet they are. Look, my battery's dying..."

"Alright, talk to you when the lights go down."

"Sure thing."

Cottons declined the call, reclining back in his seat. Before him stood the ever growing traffic pile, a cacaphony of car horns rising up as it did.

Cotton Weary was your typical mid 30s teen heartthrob. Handsome and well-built.

However, aside from just being another pretty face in the city of Angels, he was also a cocky and arrogant prick.

*Ring*

Startled as his cell roared back to life his hand, Cotton answered it, calming his accelerated heartbeat before speaking into it.

"Cotton Weary, call me Cotton," he droned, waiting for the telltale breathing or sniffle of a person.

Waiting a few seconds, he got no response.

Assuming it was a bad connection, Cotton was about to hang up and drop the device beside him on the passenger's seat until he got a reply.

"Hello." The male caller didn't sound familiar to him. Their voice sounded not unattractive yet nightmarish deep, unlike any normal person's voice.

Definitely modified.

With a sinking feeling, he thought back to the STAB movies as he rested his head against the window. "Who is this?"

"Who is this?"

"Well what number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know." The voice was still deep, yet playful enough to fool a child.