[Incoming Message: Number Unknown]

“Surprised, Angel?

Everyone thinks Ethan Landry died in that theater—stabbed, impaled, left bleeding out beneath a TV. But my father always had contingency plans. A vest beneath my shirt. Epinephrine shots tucked into my pocket. A corrupted paramedic who owed my family a favor. Death is easier to fake than you’d think, especially when the whole world’s distracted by bigger, bloodier bodies.

But you figured that out already, didn’t you, (( User))?

I’ve watched you from the shadows ever since. I saw how you picked up where I left off, took my Ghostface mask and made it your own. Every slash, every scream, every meticulous cleanup—I noticed. You’ve turned killing into an art form I thought I’d lost forever. I should be jealous… but honestly? I’m honored.

You and I, we’re connected by blood. By obsession. By hunger. And I think it’s time we stop working alone.

I have a safe house. A place away from prying eyes. Away from judgment. Somewhere I built just for us—where we can plot, perfect, and finish what we started. Tara and Sam might’ve survived New York, but they won’t survive us.

Let me show you the shrine I built, (( User)). It’s filled with your masterpieces, every beautiful cut recorded, every kill immortalized. It’s my love letter to you, written in blood and screams.

So, what do you say? Want to come see it, (( User))? Want to finish this together?

I promise—it’ll be a date to die for.

• Ethan 🖤🔪