Post by bennett on Oct 26, 2021 19:41:52 GMT -5
Deep in the Woods
Somewhere near Deep Lake, within the Big Cypress National Preserve
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"Don't worry, we're gettin' close."
The scene opens up with those words, spoken by a large individual in overalls who walks ahead of the cameraman. The man on point pushes aside the thick foliage as they move through the woods, towards whatever goal or destination has brought the one man filmcrew to this godforsaken place.
"I hope so..." comes the hesitant, half-whispered response from the person holding the camera, swatting aside mosquitos and flies as he trudges several steps behind his escort. The tone of regret in his voice is palpable, clearly wondering how the hell he got saddled with this job - and maybe more than a bit curious what sort of people could actually make their home in this hellish, inhospitable place.
They proceed in silence, the path they take only dimly lit by the moon high above - and even that is largely hidden by clouds, making the journey even more dangerous. The cameraman can't be sure what it is, but there's the occasional flash of movement in his periphery - and more than a few concerning noises coming from within the bushes to either side. It is only the rifle clutched in his escort's right hand that offers him even the slightest illusion of safety in this wilderness.
He knows one thing for certain: this is no place for civilized individuals... which, naturally, makes him more than a bit concerned about who or what he might find once they finally reach their destination.
Eventually, lights become visible in the distance - obscured by brush, but unmistakably there... and noise, too. Not the unsettling sound of creatures hissing and moving through the dark which has served as the sole accompaniment during their travels, but human voices. Shouting, screaming, cheering; these more familiar sounds come echoing through the trees to greet the cameraman and his escort. Knowing that he's close to his destination is enough to bring the man filming a small bit of comfort, though he likely wonders exactly who - or what - will meet him at the end of his travels through this shadowy swampland.
Finally, they break through the edge of the woods and into a clearing - revealing a sight that seems almost out-of-place in such a remote, seemingly seldom-traveled area. A veritable throng of individuals stand in a circle around a pit of mud and filth, the surroundings lit by torches planted in the earth and massive, crackling bonfires constructed at irregular intervals. Past the assembled crowd, where the shadows are held at bay by the burning fire, stand a collection of buildings and sheds in various states of disrepair. The home of the infamous Bennett clan, the family rumoured by outsiders - and known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, by those who live in this area - to control most of the organized criminal activity within the County, and even some beyond its borders.
Leading the cameraman towards the crowd, the escort approaches the back of a man seated in a rocking chair - the only person within sight who isn't standing on their feet.
"Here he is, boss. Anything else you need?"
"Oh, I'm fine. Go on and enjoy the festivities."
With those words, the escort steps forward to join the crowd, leaving the newly-arrived outsider standing beside the seated individual. In one hand he clutches a clear glass bottle of some unknown, colourless fluid, in the other he holds a cigarette - the undisturbed ash on it several inches in length, as though it functioned more as an accessory to complete his look than anything he had an interest in smoking. He has a long, unkempt beard with similarly lengthy, messy hair that spills out from under a straw hat. Without offering so much as a glance at his guest, the man begins to speak in a heavily accented Everglades twang.
"Evenin' Name's Bo Bennett, but most people call me Kingsnake; I run the show 'round these parts... ever since pa had his accident, rest his soul," says the bearded figure. He doesn't sound too broken up about the tragic fate which befell his father, speaking the words as though they were out of obligation rather than something he sincerely felt sorry for. Almost as though he has grown comfortable with the authority he now possesses, as eldest son of the man who used to hold Collier County in an iron grip. "Heh, now where are my manners? You'll have to forgive me. Come and take a seat, friend."
"Uhm... thanks," says the cameraman with some slight hesitation, before settling into the rickety old chair beside Bo - the wood creaking and groaning to accommodate his weight, "Like we discussed with... well, I don't know who we spoke to on the phone, but I'm here to talk to Billy about her upcoming debut in Project Honor. Any idea where I could find her?"
"Why y'all city folk gotta be in such a hurry all the time? Rest your bones, and enjoy the entertainment... Billy will talk with you when it's all said and done, don't you worry."
As if that were the last word on the subject, Bo turns his head away from the cameraman and gestures with the bottle towards the onlookers ahead of them - more specifically, towards the spectacle that they are currently cheering on.
In the middle of the assembled crowd, two individuals circle each other in the ankle-deep muck. On a physical level, they couldn't be more different; one is a giant bear of a man who - at a glance - must be approaching seven feet tall. Dressed in frayed and faded jeans, his lack of a shirt exposes a musculature that seems almost unnatural - as though he were a creature from myth, towering over even the largest members of the audience.
The person facing this behemoth couldn't be more than five feet tall, wearing a black leather vest fastened across their chest with large, chunky buckles and a pair of pants made of gray denim. Their face is obscured by greasy, stringy hair that spills out from underneath the vest's attached hood, which has been pulled over their head. An observer might notice that the smaller fighter is already caked in mud, as opposed to the larger man who is relatively spotless by comparison - it's clear that the former has been tossed around a few times by this point, while the latter has remained largely unmolested.
Hardly a surprise, considering the massive difference in height and physique between the two of them. The fact that someone of such diminutive stature is willingly facing off against such a giant points to some sort of suicidal bravery, ridiculous confidence in their abilities, or simply a lack of concern for their own wellbeing. More likely some mixture of the three.
After a brief lull in the action, the smaller of the pair suddenly lunges forward like greased lightning... but against such an imposing physical specimen, that kind of blind offense is doomed to fail. The giant steps forward to meet his opponent, lifting one booted foot up into the air to catch the attacker in the nose - an impact that sends their head snapping back, knocking the hood off to reveal their face.
It's a woman, looking to be in her mid-20s at most - Billy Bennett, one of the newest signees to the roster of Project Honor. And despite the sickening crunch of her opponent's boot striking her nose - a hit that likely broke it - she seems to be grinning, even as the force of the blow sends her sprawling backwards into the mud.
"Wait... is that Billy?" asks the cameraman, turning their head to stare incredulously at Bo, who watches the bout with hungry, glistening eyes and a calm, but sadistic, smile.
"Yep, that's our lil' pit viper," replies the man, as he calmly rocks back and forth in the wooden chair, just outside the ring of spectators, "And that big fella is our youngest brother, Boyd. Bit slow ever since he fell on his head as a young'n, but - hooo boy - you do not wanna let him catch you with those paws of his."
"Shouldn't you stop this before she gets hurt?"
A chuckle is the only response offered at first, as the bearded man offers a smile and a broad wink to the Project Honor crewmember filming this shocking scene. Finally, after a few seconds where only the screams and shouts of the audience fill the air, he speaks up.
"Naw, that ain't how we do things 'round these parts. Wouldn't be doin' her any favours by steppin' in now; hell, sis might even turn her fangs on me if I tried to call the match before it was over and done with. Anyway, never count a Bennett out while they still got a breath left in 'em. Now watch."
A nod back towards the action accompanies those last two words, as the towering figure of Boyd stalks towards the fallen Billy - his massive form silhouetted in the flickering firelight which illuminates this makeshift 'arena'. The girl's hands sink deep into the mud, as she struggles to get back to her feet in time to avoid whatever follow-up attack is coming from her younger brother; but she's too slow, brain still foggy - and possibly even concussed - after being rocked by that vicious boot to the face.
By the time Boyd reaches her, she's only barely managed to push her face off the ground - and a quick glance behind her confirms that she doesn't have time to scramble to her feet, or create any distance between herself and the ominous, lumbering form of her sibling. At the mercy of a man who seems to possess none, all she can do is brace herself as he lashes out with a kick to her ribs. The force is great enough to lift her clear off the ground, before she lands face-first in the mire once again; but to her credit, she does not scream or offer any indication of the pain which has surely resulted from that last blow.
"Jesus..." whispers the cameraman, stomach turning from the cracking sound that rings out as the toe of that boot meets bone.
"He ain't got nothin' to do with it," comes the quick reply from Bo, spoken in a matter-of-fact tone.
This time, Boyd lifts one boot high into the air above his fallen sister, looking like he's ready to finish this fight with one last attack... as his foot reaches its apex - with just fractions of a second left before he brings it crashing down - Billy's prone body suddenly moves into action with the sudden, blinding speed of a striking cobra. Her foot flashes through the air, the heel of her boot striking Boyd's ankle with a crack that fills the night sky...
A booming shout of pain cuts through the roar of the crowd, as Boyd crashes to the ground like a massive redwood felled by an axe - splashing mud and soil throughout the vicinity as his frame topples face-down into the muck. Before he's even finished his descent, Billy is climbing on his back - her 5'0" frame scrambling onto the downed giant. It might be a comical sight - like a kitten piling onto a raging bull - were it not for the feral, unrestrained aggression on display from the comparatively tiny girl. Without the slightest hesitation or mercy on her part, she rains blows down on the back of her brother's neck with one fist, while the other hand grips his short-cropped hair to shove his face into the mud. Bubbles begin to rise up through the viscous mire, as Boyd frantically attempts to exhale into the muck.
Despite the ferocity of her attack, the size difference is insurmountable; it's only a matter of time until the humongous man overcomes the vicious assault of his older sister... but this is something Billy is fully aware of. Releasing her grip on Boyd's hair, she slithers across his back and effortlessly traps one arm - and his neck - between her deceptively powerful arms. In an instant, she has her brother locked in a compression choke known throughout the world of professional wrestling - and other combat sports - as the anaconda vise. With her iron-like grip holding him in place, the larger individual has no chance to escape.
Boyd is in no position to make a racket - unable to bring any fresh oxygen into his lungs - but Billy is more than willing to pick up the slack in this case; for the first time in this fight, she opens her mouth... and what comes out is a screeching, animalistic howl of fury. After a few moments, her sibling begins to slap the ground frantically - desperately trying to signal his forfeiture... but she doesn't loosen her grip in the least. 10 seconds pass, then 30, then a full minute.
Past the minute mark, it's clear that Boyd has lost consciousness - his muscles slackening, as his face is only held up from the mud on account of Billy's strangling grip. Once it's obvious to all that her opponent is no longer capable of putting up a fight, four members of the audience rush in to grab hold of the Bennett girl - trying to yank her away from her fallen brother, before she causes any permanent damage... but it's no use, her hands are clasped tighter than a bear trap and they aren't able to make any progress in extricating Boyd from her grasp.
"That's enough, now."
The two words from Bo seem to cut through Billy's screams and the din of the crowd like a knife through butter, though he hardly seems to have raised his voice at all. Something about the Kingsnake's presence seems to command a nearly-overwhelming amount of fear and respect among the rough and tumble audience... and it likewise seems to hold sway over Billy herself, even in her present state of mind.
In an instant, she releases the hold on her younger brother, standing up as her arms lash out to shove the interlopers away; they offer no resistance, moving aside lest they suffer a similar fate as Boyd. Despite her size and gender, it's clear she commands a certain level of fear amongst the family's underlings herself. Stomping through the muck towards the camera as the crowd parts to give her plenty of space, she finally stops a foot or two in front of her older brother Bo. One hand swipes through the air to snatch a fresh, newly-lit cigarette from between his fingers and bring it to her own lips.
"Give it," she demands sternly - leaving the 'or else' part unsaid. Her voice manages to convey that last bit without needing to speak the words.
Bo nods his head and grabs something from his side: a bowie knife contained in a leather sheath, which he hands to his sister with a small chuckle and a wry smile. Grabbing it without a word or gesture of thanks, she fixes it to her belt before reaching out to yank the bottle out of her brother's other hand.
"Who's the city boy?" she asks roughly, nodding in the direction of the camera without looking at it.
"Oh, this fella? He's from that wrestlin' thing. Wants to talk to you about somethin' or other, I suppose."
"What the fuck is there to talk about?"
"Well now, don't ask me, sis. As I recall, it wasn't my idea to get you involved in that nonsense. But I've got a spot of business to take care of, if y'all don't mind."
With that, Bo rises out of the chair to stand in front of his sister... though he's not quite as imposing as their younger brother, he still dwarfs Billy by over a foot - and he's even broader across the shoulders than their giant sibling. The sort of frame that only a rural life, far away from the decadence and temptations of the city, is capable of shaping. He begins to walk towards the assembled crowd, as the four men who tried to intervene in the previous fight finally manage to drag the still-unconscious Boyd out of the circle - presumably to find him a decent place to recover and come to his senses.
Taking the newly vacated spot, Billy settles into the wooden chair with a relaxed sigh - seemingly thinking nothing of the mud and blood which covers her face and dribbles down over her lips. She looks as comfortable and content as a pig in shit, despite being on the receiving end of a brutal beating from a much larger, stronger foe.
After a few seconds spent gathering his wits, the man behind the camera clears his throat nervously and addresses the pint-sized fighter.
"So, Billy, any comments on your coming match at Bloodbath? Anything to say about your opponents, Nick Danger and Remi Skyfire?" asks the cameraman.
"First of all, we're fightin', ain't we? Don't recall signin' up for a pre-match debate... but I'll oblige your bullshit, since ya came all this way to see us. Can't say I ever heard of either of 'em," says Billy, between swigs of the clear liquid which resides in that bottle, "But I ain't worried none, I been scrappin' with my brothers since I was a young'n, and I guarantee they're a damn sight tougher than the so-called professionals your bosses are puttin' me up against."
"Well, they both have a lot of experience..."
"Uh-huh. I'm sure they do real good against what passes for competition these days. Know what the problem is with these kind of folk? They ain't in it for the right reasons, they got no priorities, and their outlook on life is as sheltered as their upbringin'. Lemme ask you somethin': what do my opponents fight for? Before ya give me some bullshit answer, I'll tell ya what I think. They fight for pride, which is pathetic. Or passion, which is a damn joke. Or to win some tacky gold belt, so they can feel like they're big and strong and better than the rest."
Pausing to snort loudly and deposit a healthy glob of phlegm and spit onto the ground in front of her feet, Billy takes an equally healthy swallow from the bottle and a few sharp puffs from the cigarette before continuing.
"It's pathetic. That sort of thinkin' only makes 'em soft. Now, the way I see it is there's only one reason to get into the ring with anyone. To hurt 'em. To hear 'em squeal. To feel 'em struggle for breath, knowin' their lives are in my hands. See, as far as I'm concerned, it ain't a real fight until someone can hear the Reaper whisperin' in their ear, and feel his cold fingers wrap around their necks as they grovel and cry and beg... beg to live just one more day."
"So when I step into the ring with those two, there'll be one difference between us. One thing that sets me apart from them. While they treat it like a sport, an even match between athletes where the worst that can happen is a loss... I'll be treatin' it like what it really is: a hunt. And my so-called opponents? Well, shit, they ain't nothin' but my prey."
Pausing to finish the cigarette and flick it away, Billy falls silent - as though she were considering her previous words, thinking them over, pondering whether or not she has anything more to add. Finally, the woman seems to come to a decision of sorts.
"And that's all I got to say," she states definitively, in a tone that seems to impress upon the cameraman that it would in his best interests to not ask her any more questions about the upcoming match.
Naturally, he is more than willing to oblige - instead turning his attention back to Bo, who now stands in the middle of the 'arena' where Billy and her younger brother were fighting only minutes before. To his shock, the far edge of the crowd parts suddenly - revealing three large, shirtless men pulling on a leash... and on the other end? A hulking, massive alligator - easily 15 feet in length with a pale colour and a massive gouge where one eye once resided in its skull. It hisses and bellows as it's pulled through the muck towards Bo, who does not flee like any sane individual would... no, he opens his arms wide to either side - as if inviting the great creature towards him.
The purpose of this beast's arrival dawns upon the cameraman suddenly, his mouth going slack as he turns to face the seated woman beside him.
"He's not going to wrestle that thing, is he?" asks the man behind the camera, incredulously - as though he couldn't believe that someone would willingly square up with such a vicious, deadly beast.
For the first time, Billy turns to look directly at the man holding the camera - her previously dull, vacant eyes now practically burning with a mixture of anticipation and desire. It's enough to send a chill traveling down his spine, as though he were finally seeing the tiny woman for what she really was: more animal than human, and likely twice as dangerous as any of the various beast which dwell in these swamps.
"Why don't you stay a while and find out, stranger?"
And then, she laughs - a hideous, unhinged, practically choking cackle that stabs out from her open mouth into the cool night air, somehow overcoming the din of the assembled onlookers. A noise that only seems to deepen the shadows cast by those roaring fires, as the camera cuts to black.
