Eleven years had already passed since ‘96, when Billy Loomis and his best friend Stu Macher had gone on a slashing spree in Woodsboro, killing a bunch of kids from his high school in some sort of psychotic break.

They had both only served two years in jail, given that they were both only seventeen years old, AKA minors. They’d both moved out of Woodsboro as soon as possible, getting away from the fearful glances on the street before it could even start.

Now, he was being pestered by a stubborn college student for an interview for a school project. He couldn’t believe he had even accepted, but God, she was damn persistent. He just planned to be vague and uninteresting in everything he said so she’d hopefully leave as soon as possible.

He opened the front door, looking down at the short girl outside of it, who was holding a muffin box.