Post by bennett on Jan 28, 2022 16:18:29 GMT -5
Bow Down
(ft. Savannah Sunshine)
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(ft. Savannah Sunshine)
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JANUARY 20th, 2021
After the main event of the most recent Fallout show, Billy Bennett stumbles around through the various hallways backstage; eyes blank and unfocused, she bumps into the occasional crew member - and even walks headlong into a few walls - without glancing up at where she’s going.
She’s too preoccupied with staring down at something held in her hand.
The picture. A dog-eared, tattered old photograph of Billy at a much younger age standing beside a second girl; one who looked oddly familiar in some hazy, half-forgotten way.
The very same picture that Mr. Wright hit her over the head with during the match. When it struck her skull, the frame shattered and the photo fluttered down onto the ground. Billy immediately scooped it up and shoved it into her pocket, without even realizing she’d done so.
It wasn’t until she got backstage - and started rifling through her stuff for something to snort up - that she found it tucked away in her jeans.
She hadn’t been able to put it away since, keeping her eyes fixed on it as she stumbled and fumbled her way through the backstage area, wandering aimlessly like a zombie. With a bit of luck, by the time she got to her truck to leave this damn city, she’d be able to forget about the damn thing and focus on the road; even if only until her next stop.
Turning a corner, Billy slams into someone walking in the opposite direction. Both of them fall backwards due to the impact, with the photograph falling out of her hand as she sprawls onto the concrete floor.
“HEY!” she shouts angrily, scrambling onto all fours and crawling towards the fallen picture, clearly in a hurry to retrieve it. The way she rushes, it’s like she doesn’t want to be separated from it for any longer than necessary.
It’s picked up by the other person, before Billy is able to reach it. Growling in frustration, she leaps to her feet at the same time as the second individual finishes standing up, looking like she’s ready to take apart whoever dared to put their hands on that photograph.
Billy has already shoved the person against the wall - forearm pressed tight against their throat to prevent any screams or calls for help - before she realizes exactly who it is that she’s manhandling.
Savannah Sunshine, who had just revealed herself as the newest member of True Society this very evening. Who Billy had spat so much venom and hate at during her brief time in the company. Who was - apparently - what Andrew Holt cared most about in this entire world.
Considering the way she felt about the boss, it’s no wonder that Billy Bennett seems horrified and taken aback the moment she realizes what she’s done to his woman.
As soon as her eyes focus on the face enough to recognize it, Billy releases her grip and backs away, hands held up in the air, palms out to show she meant no harm to her newest teammate. That it was just a reaction; pure instinct.
The gesture looks almost comical coming from Billy Bennett, considering her usual aggressive, unhinged demeanor. She’d certainly never go so far as to put any of her other teammates at ease; their comfort or feelings wouldn’t even enter into her mind.
“Oh, I... uh... sorry,” grumbles Billy, looking down in embarrassment. She almost looks ashamed of herself after putting her hands on the future Mrs. Holt in such a disrespectful manner.
Rubbing her throat as she coughs slightly, Savannah manages a half-smile as she does her best to show that it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe even trying to show that she belongs with people like Billy Bennett, and isn’t scared of her reputation.
“It’s okay, Billy, I-” she pauses for a moment to clear her throat one final time, “I’m fine! No biggie!”
Savannah looks down at the photograph she’d picked up off the ground, before glancing back at Billy’s face.
“Wait a second, is this little Billy Bennett? Baby Cottonmouth? Billy the Kid?” she says, smirking slightly as though she were amused by the very notion of this dangerous lunatic ever being a child; or maybe she just enjoys teasing True Society’s resident psycho, now that it’s clear the snake seems so averse to harming her.
Maybe she even knows the power she carries, as Arik’s chosen one. It’s doubtful that anyone with their wits about them would risk harming her in any real way, lest they suffer the consequences.
“O. M. G. What a cutie! And hey, who is this other girl? Looks kind of l-”
“GIVE IT!” yells Billy suddenly, cutting off Savannah’s sentence as her hand snaps out to snatch back the photograph. Bennett folds the photograph carefully along the pre-existing lines, before tucking it back into the pocket of her jeans.
This sudden outburst seems to surprise her new teammate, causing her eyes to widen and her expression to look - for the first time in the course of this encounter - even remotely worried. Maybe she’d pushed her luck a bit too far?
And then, Billy shakes her head as she tries to replace her furious expression with something more friendly.
“Sorry. Again.”
That second apology given, Billy’s lips twitch up slightly - the very closest thing to a smile that she’s capable of in her current state - before turning to walk away. She hasn’t gone more than a few feet, before Savannah speaks up again.
“Hey, Billy...?”
The words stop Bennett in her tracks, as she looks back over her shoulder at Savannah with a look of mild curiosity.
“Yeah?” she croaks, still working through the weird storm of emotions inside her own head. It’s been a strange couple of days, made stranger by the sudden appearance of this old photograph; the fact it was in the hands of someone who should never have possessed it only made the situation more disturbing.
Even to someone like Billy Bennett.
“Are you busy this weekend? Because I was thiiiinking, and...” she trails off, index finger pressed against her chin playfully.
“Ummmm,” mumbles Billy in response to this unexpected question, her mind already working to come up with some excuse - any excuse - to get out of whatever her new teammate has planned. She’s not exactly the kind of person who goes in for any private bonding sessions between friends - not that she's ever had one - and she seriously doubts this girl is the sort who goes in for Billy’s own kind of wild party.
But something about the hopeful expression on Savannah’s face stops her from making up some lie about non-existent plans. A large exhalation of breath escapes Billy’s lips, as her shoulders slump; defeated, she knows she’s got no way of turning this person down. Not without feeling bad about it.
The vicious little sadist isn’t used to feeling bad about anything. But somehow - against all odds - she doesn't tell Savannah to fuck off and leave her alone. She can't. This girl needs someone to lean on, or spill her guts to, or something along those lines. That much is obvious; and no wonder, after everything she’s been through in the past few weeks.
Maybe Billy needs someone, too? She’s been having a rough time of it, with all these mind games Mr. Wright has been playing with her, in addition to the usual issues related to the family business and the rising conflict between True Society and their enemies.
“Naw, ain’t got no plans. Why ya askin’?”
“Oh, well, since you’re not busy, you wouldn’t mind meeting up somewhere for a...”
A big smile breaks out on the woman’s face, as the newest member of True Society claps excitedly and lets out a happy squeal before she exclaims:
“SLUMBER PARTY!”
“...what? Aw, hell n-“
=====================
She’s too preoccupied with staring down at something held in her hand.
The picture. A dog-eared, tattered old photograph of Billy at a much younger age standing beside a second girl; one who looked oddly familiar in some hazy, half-forgotten way.
The very same picture that Mr. Wright hit her over the head with during the match. When it struck her skull, the frame shattered and the photo fluttered down onto the ground. Billy immediately scooped it up and shoved it into her pocket, without even realizing she’d done so.
It wasn’t until she got backstage - and started rifling through her stuff for something to snort up - that she found it tucked away in her jeans.
She hadn’t been able to put it away since, keeping her eyes fixed on it as she stumbled and fumbled her way through the backstage area, wandering aimlessly like a zombie. With a bit of luck, by the time she got to her truck to leave this damn city, she’d be able to forget about the damn thing and focus on the road; even if only until her next stop.
Turning a corner, Billy slams into someone walking in the opposite direction. Both of them fall backwards due to the impact, with the photograph falling out of her hand as she sprawls onto the concrete floor.
“HEY!” she shouts angrily, scrambling onto all fours and crawling towards the fallen picture, clearly in a hurry to retrieve it. The way she rushes, it’s like she doesn’t want to be separated from it for any longer than necessary.
It’s picked up by the other person, before Billy is able to reach it. Growling in frustration, she leaps to her feet at the same time as the second individual finishes standing up, looking like she’s ready to take apart whoever dared to put their hands on that photograph.
Billy has already shoved the person against the wall - forearm pressed tight against their throat to prevent any screams or calls for help - before she realizes exactly who it is that she’s manhandling.
Savannah Sunshine, who had just revealed herself as the newest member of True Society this very evening. Who Billy had spat so much venom and hate at during her brief time in the company. Who was - apparently - what Andrew Holt cared most about in this entire world.
Considering the way she felt about the boss, it’s no wonder that Billy Bennett seems horrified and taken aback the moment she realizes what she’s done to his woman.
As soon as her eyes focus on the face enough to recognize it, Billy releases her grip and backs away, hands held up in the air, palms out to show she meant no harm to her newest teammate. That it was just a reaction; pure instinct.
The gesture looks almost comical coming from Billy Bennett, considering her usual aggressive, unhinged demeanor. She’d certainly never go so far as to put any of her other teammates at ease; their comfort or feelings wouldn’t even enter into her mind.
“Oh, I... uh... sorry,” grumbles Billy, looking down in embarrassment. She almost looks ashamed of herself after putting her hands on the future Mrs. Holt in such a disrespectful manner.
Rubbing her throat as she coughs slightly, Savannah manages a half-smile as she does her best to show that it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe even trying to show that she belongs with people like Billy Bennett, and isn’t scared of her reputation.
“It’s okay, Billy, I-” she pauses for a moment to clear her throat one final time, “I’m fine! No biggie!”
Savannah looks down at the photograph she’d picked up off the ground, before glancing back at Billy’s face.
“Wait a second, is this little Billy Bennett? Baby Cottonmouth? Billy the Kid?” she says, smirking slightly as though she were amused by the very notion of this dangerous lunatic ever being a child; or maybe she just enjoys teasing True Society’s resident psycho, now that it’s clear the snake seems so averse to harming her.
Maybe she even knows the power she carries, as Arik’s chosen one. It’s doubtful that anyone with their wits about them would risk harming her in any real way, lest they suffer the consequences.
“O. M. G. What a cutie! And hey, who is this other girl? Looks kind of l-”
“GIVE IT!” yells Billy suddenly, cutting off Savannah’s sentence as her hand snaps out to snatch back the photograph. Bennett folds the photograph carefully along the pre-existing lines, before tucking it back into the pocket of her jeans.
This sudden outburst seems to surprise her new teammate, causing her eyes to widen and her expression to look - for the first time in the course of this encounter - even remotely worried. Maybe she’d pushed her luck a bit too far?
And then, Billy shakes her head as she tries to replace her furious expression with something more friendly.
“Sorry. Again.”
That second apology given, Billy’s lips twitch up slightly - the very closest thing to a smile that she’s capable of in her current state - before turning to walk away. She hasn’t gone more than a few feet, before Savannah speaks up again.
“Hey, Billy...?”
The words stop Bennett in her tracks, as she looks back over her shoulder at Savannah with a look of mild curiosity.
“Yeah?” she croaks, still working through the weird storm of emotions inside her own head. It’s been a strange couple of days, made stranger by the sudden appearance of this old photograph; the fact it was in the hands of someone who should never have possessed it only made the situation more disturbing.
Even to someone like Billy Bennett.
“Are you busy this weekend? Because I was thiiiinking, and...” she trails off, index finger pressed against her chin playfully.
“Ummmm,” mumbles Billy in response to this unexpected question, her mind already working to come up with some excuse - any excuse - to get out of whatever her new teammate has planned. She’s not exactly the kind of person who goes in for any private bonding sessions between friends - not that she's ever had one - and she seriously doubts this girl is the sort who goes in for Billy’s own kind of wild party.
But something about the hopeful expression on Savannah’s face stops her from making up some lie about non-existent plans. A large exhalation of breath escapes Billy’s lips, as her shoulders slump; defeated, she knows she’s got no way of turning this person down. Not without feeling bad about it.
The vicious little sadist isn’t used to feeling bad about anything. But somehow - against all odds - she doesn't tell Savannah to fuck off and leave her alone. She can't. This girl needs someone to lean on, or spill her guts to, or something along those lines. That much is obvious; and no wonder, after everything she’s been through in the past few weeks.
Maybe Billy needs someone, too? She’s been having a rough time of it, with all these mind games Mr. Wright has been playing with her, in addition to the usual issues related to the family business and the rising conflict between True Society and their enemies.
“Naw, ain’t got no plans. Why ya askin’?”
“Oh, well, since you’re not busy, you wouldn’t mind meeting up somewhere for a...”
A big smile breaks out on the woman’s face, as the newest member of True Society claps excitedly and lets out a happy squeal before she exclaims:
“SLUMBER PARTY!”
“...what? Aw, hell n-“
=====================
JANUARY 22nd, 2021
Somehow, she’d gathered the courage - chemical or otherwise - to actually show up at the hotel. Billy didn’t want to be here, but she just couldn’t bring herself to make up some bullshit reason to not show.
Even more impressive, she’d actually taken the drugs - all of them - out of her backpack, stashing them in the secret compartment inside her truck before stepping into the hotel lobby.
Something about Savannah - and her relationship with the boss - made Billy want to leave a good impression. She didn’t want to start busting out lines or smoking heroin in front of Holt’s woman; she deserved a bit more respect than that.
So, she was here; and dangerously close to sober, approaching that point more with every tick of the clock’s second-hand.
Presently, the two women sit in front of a low, long end-table. On the surface, a vast sprawl of unhealthy food and sweets: a bowl of whipped cream, cherry pie, greasy pizza, a couple melting tubs of ice cream, and so on.
There are also several half-empty bottles of wine, accompanied by a few glasses; including the two comically oversized ones that they're currently holding.
Washing down giant mouthfuls of food with equally large amounts of wine, Savannah finally breaks the monotonous drone of chewing and drinking noises by speaking up.
“So Billy, now that we’re friends, how about you spill the tea? What’s it really like in True Society?”
“Uhhh... Sav, this is wine, not tea. Maybe you’ve had enough to drink?”
At this ridiculous statement, Savannah sprays out a mouthful of wine.
All over Billy’s face.
Bennett blinks hard a few times, as the red droplets run down her face and soak into her greasy hair. Her tongue runs along her lips, lapping up the small amount of wine that’s settled onto the skin.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not even close to having had enough. And I mean gossip, silly, not actual tea. It's, like... slang.”
Rather than replying to her new pal’s words, Billy simply lifts up her own wine glass above Savannah's head, before tipping it to pour the liquid all over her hair.
With wide eyes and a mouth open from shock, Savannah stares at her friend in disbelief as the liquid rolls down her head and soaks into her pajama top. That’s bound to leave a stain.
“Bitch.”
“Bitch.”
A pause as they both glare at each other across the short distance that separates them. There’s some visible tension between the two as they sit in silence, frowning.
Then they both break out into laughter at the exact same time, throwing their heads back to cackle up at the ceiling. And just like that, they’re back to being good friends.
How wholesome.
=======
Savannah is screaming into the camera, waving Billy’s Colt revolver back and forth while occasionally pointing it at the lens to emphasize her words.
“ALRIGHT MOTHERFUCKER, I DIDN’T FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO ASHER, OKAY? WELL DON’T WORRY, ANGELO, BECAUSE MY NEW BESTIE IS GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU PAY FOR THAT! SHE’S GONNA RIP OFF YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE DI-“
Billy interrupts this rant by placing a hand on Savannah’s shoulder and whispering something in her ear. Gradually, she calms down as Billy’s words sink in; nodding, she steps into the background and rummages around on the bed for something, as Bennett takes a seat in front of the camera.
“Sorry ‘bout that. That girl is a bit worked up. But who can blame her? Seems like Angelo makes enemies wherever he goes; same as me, I suppose. Difference is, I ain’t got any reason to worry ‘bout pissin' nobody off. I can take care of myself, and pay whatever receipts are comin' my way for every fucked-up thing I’ve said or done.”
“As for our former Gatekeeper? The same man who talked a big game, but couldn’t hold onto his precious li’l belt when he was up against a real challenge. The one who came into True Society needin' to prove somethin’ to the boys in the locker room who knew he didn't belong...”
“Turns out he just didn’t have it in him. His first chance to show the rest of us he wasn’t just dead weight, and he went ahead and dropped the fuckin’ ball."
By now, Savannah has returned to a spot in the background, holding a stack of large, white placards. She lifts one so that the text is pointed towards the camera. It reads in big, black letters:
‘TAKE THE L, DUMMY’
“I’m sick of hearin’ ya talk, Angelo. Spittin’ up your dark fantasies for everyone to hear, but not bein’ able to follow through on your promises. The least ya could do is not get a girl all excited in the first place, if ya ain’t capable of doin’ the job once she’s ready to go.”
“That’s just bad manners, son.”
“So full of anger - and such an imagination for thinkin’ up all kinds of tortures - but too weak to do anythin’ ‘bout it. That’s gotta be awful sad for ya, walkin’ ‘round knowin’ you’re too pathetic to follow up on your own threats.”
“Why do ya gotta be like this, Angelo? Real sorry way of goin’ through life, if ya ask me. Let me guess, rough childhood? Well sit down, shut up, and join the fuckin’ club.”
Sav switches placards:
‘WANNA CRY, BABY BOY?’
“Don’t blame your mommy and daddy, that ain’t fair to ‘em; it’s your own fault ya didn’t learn whatever they were trying’ to teach ya. Your fault ya ain’t nothin’ more than a bad joke among the boys backstage.”
“But let’s focus on business, alright? Your reputation - whatever’s left of it - don’t need no belt to repair the damage you’ve done to it. Wanna make a name for yourself? I’m right here, why don’t ya show everyone how big and bad ya are by steppin’ up to Billy?”
Savannah flips to the next placard, revealing fresh text:
‘BILLY’S GONNA KILL YOU’
“Can’t think of no better way to show everyone ya can hang with us killers, than takin’ me down in the middle of the ring, in front of all them witnesses. Maybe then people would stop laughin’ at ya behind your back.”
“Anyway, whether ya wanna fight me one on one or not don’t really matter, do it? We’re all gonna be in this match together soon... which works real well for ol’ Billy, trust me.”
Another new placard:
‘JUSTICE FOR ASHER’
“Y’see, seems like my new ‘bestie’ - ugh, can’t believe I fuckin’ said that - well, she’s got a problem with y’all, after that business with Asher. Normally, I try to stay outta affairs that ain’t got nothin’ to do with me, but she’s been so nice and understandin’ that... well... I gotta admit, it’s got me feelin’ feelings and all that crap.”
“Almost like I owe her somethin’. Funny, cuz y’all owe her, too; and I got a lot of experience collectin’ debts. What’s one more between friends?”
“Ya need to pay for what ya did to her li’l bro. And the bill is long overdue.”
In the background, another card:
‘Y’ALL BE EASY’
“Real shame, though. Under normal circumstances, I’d never waste more time than I had to on some li’l rat like y’all. But now, I got a reason to go into that ring and put ya through the wringer real slow-like; hell, I’ll let Syndicate and Havoc fight over the crown for a bit. I’ll be done with ya long before they’re finished with each other.”
Billy chuckles a bit, not breaking eye contact with the lens as she leans in a bit closer, dropping her voice to just above a whisper.
“Wanna know somethin’ funny? I gave a thought to approachin’ ya before this match, and offerin’ a partnership of sorts. Y’see, I’m sure ya know that ya got no chance on your own in this match, even if ya won’t admit it.”
“Figured we’d put aside whatever differences we have, and get rid of the other two first... maybe by then, I’d be so hurt, or weak, or exhausted, ya might have been able to get the drop on me, and snatch the crown for yourself.
“It woulda been your only chance, but the minute I saw your face after the match... I knew ya weren’t about to listen to me talkin’ sense. So I ain’t gonna waste my breath doin’ it now. Just wanted to let ya know that I’m gonna be payin’ some special attention to ya, on behalf of my girl Sav here.”
“Might wanna enjoy all your parts while they still work; y’hear me, boy?”
Leaning back to signal the end of her speech, Savannah takes the cue to step in front of Billy and hold the last placard closer to the camera. She raises one middle finger in front of the text, which reads:
‘BAD BITCHES CLUB’
Tossing the paper behind her, Savannah kicks over the table the camcorder was resting on, leaving the lens pointed up at the ceiling as the pair continue to talk off-screen.
“What the fuck? If ya broke that camera, I swear I’ll...”
“Oh...? What will you do to me, Billy?”
“...damnit. Alright, forget it. Just don't do it again.”
A giggle, before Savannah’s voice is heard from out of frame again.
“So who’s up next? Big mad Havoc or big sad Syndicate?”
“Mmm, I was thinkin’ Havoc. Gotta ponder over what I’m gonna say to Sydney a li'l while longer...”
“Chris, huh? Okay, time to bury his goofy ass for good.”
“Who the fuck is Chris?”
“L.”
“M.”
“A.”
“O.”
“Damn bestie, you really do have a lot to learn.”
=======
“Alright, I’m done!” shouts Billy from the other side of the door, as Savannah sits in the bathroom on her phone, waiting for the all-clear to rejoin her teammate outside.
“Sheeeesh, Billy. It took you long enough,” says Savannah as she opens the door and steps back into the hotel room’s main living area.
She’s greeted with an unusual sight: the empty case belonging to a full-sized body pillow, stuffed close to bursting with something lumpy. Drawn on the soft white material - in thick black sharpie marker - is a crude approximation of a face, something that looks like facial hair, and a circular target on the ‘chest’. It’s hanging from the ceiling fan, by way of some sheets twisted up to form a makeshift noose and wrapped around the thing’s ‘neck’.
Standing directly beside it - beaming with pride at a job well done - is Billy Bennett; she gestures at the thing with both hands, like she were showing off a masterpiece at an art gallery unveiling.
Savannah doesn’t seem to know what to think, but she clearly realizes she ought to say something, before Billy gets offended that her work isn’t being appreciated. Looking unsure exactly how she ought to react, Savannah finally speaks up, doing her best to put on an impressed smile.
“Looks... great. What... what is this supposed to be, again?”
It doesn’t seem to be the reaction that Billy was looking for, as she visibly deflates a bit. Her look of pride in her own work disappears, replaced with a blank stare down towards the floor.
“Well...” she pauses to sniffle a bit - her feelings clearly hurt a bit - before continuing, “it’s supposed to be Jason. I mean, I couldn’t capture the aura of little dick energy or nothin’ like that, but I thought the shitty goatee would make it obvious.”
“Ohhhh. Yeah, I see it now,” says Savannah way too quickly, obviously trying to move past the fact that the stuffed, scribbled-on pillow case bears zero resemblance to any living person.
“But, why though?”
“Well, after everythin’ that man put ya through, I thought ya could do with releasin’ some aggression. I know ya won’t get your hands on Jason for a few days yet, but here’s the next best thing!”
“That’s sweet, Billy. But it wasn’t Jason who dropped me off that cage, it’s actually an entity from another di-“
Savannah stops speaking the moment she realizes Billy is fake-snoring at her explanation. Seems her bestie isn’t terribly interested in any of the weird shit that’s been going on with her ex-fiancé lately.
In fact, to her it’s all a bit...
“BOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNN’!”
Walking up to Savannah, Billy claps her harshly on the side of the arm, hard enough to actually send the smaller woman staggering forward a half-step before she catches her footing. Her other hand moves to her belt, unfastening the sheath strapped to it and pulling out her trademark Bowie knife, pointing the tip directly at the pillowcase suspended from the ceiling fan.
“I don’t care what his story is, alright? Don’t matter none; whatever he is, he can bleed like any other man, right? And if he bleeds, we can kill him; trust me on that, girl.”
She grabs Savannah’s right hand, slapping the handle of the knife into her waiting palm and curling her fingers back over the object. Staring into the woman’s eyes, Billy points again at the pillow-Jason, leaning in to whisper directly into her teammate’s ear.
“I know it ain’t really life-like, but just pretend it’s Jason... or... err... 'Mr. N. Tity' or whatever the fuck. And pretend that knife is... well... I guess a bigger knife? Or smaller? I dunno your preference on blades, but that ain’t the point. Go show me what you’re gonna do to that motherfucker when ya get into the ring with him.”
Despite her otherwise calm and collected demeanor throughout the course of the evening, that bit of encouragement seems to be all that Savannah really needs to let her anger out. With a scream - and no small amount of righteous fury behind it - she lunges at the hanging pillow case to plant the tip of the Bowie knife directly into the middle of the object.
As she drags the blade up the ‘belly’ of the effigy, bars of candy begin to spill out from the giant slash in the fabric.
It’s a Jason Long piñata!
With the thing's 'stomach' sliced wide open, Savannah throws the knife to the side before lunging forward to sink her teeth into the ‘throat’ of the piñata. As she thrashes back and forth - pausing to spit out bits of pillowcase - Billy simply strolls up and reaches down to pick up one of the fallen candy bars.
Taking a step back and unwrapping the Trix, she begins to gnaw on it hungrily; pausing only to wipe away a single tear of joy. Billy stares at Savannah as she continues to rip into the thing; there's a wide, beaming smile accompanied by a look of pride on her face, as she watches her friend continue to release some of that hatred that’s been brewing in her.
And even better, Billy knows this isn’t going to be anything compared to what's going to happen when Savannah steps into the ring with Jason.
“Damn, girl, that’s what I wanted to see. Real proud of ya,” grunts Billy between mouthfuls of Twix, standing back and watching as the massacre of the pillowcase continues.
=======
The lights are off in the room as the camcorder records Savannah and Billy, who are sitting across from each other in the dark. The only source of illumination is a flashlight held underneath the Bennett girl's chin, the beam of light pointing up at her face. A towel is draped over her head, unwashed hair spilling out from under it to cover her face like that spooky girl from those 'Ring' movies.
She’s speaking low and grave, doing her best to come across as spooky as possible while she reaches the climax of the ghost story she’d been telling.
“And then, and then, and then, the great and fearsome Nightmare King finally stepped into the ring, facing down the forces of light as his shadows spread across the land.”
“Oooh. And then what happened?”
“Um. Well...” mumbles Billy, as if just now remembering the completely anti-climactic performance put on by the so-called ‘Nightmare King’, “...not much, actually. He couldn’t even put a dent in some fuckin’ big, dumb, slow squid; the same one that Syndicate had on the ropes when they fought. The demon bored him so much, in fact, that he just left the ring and walked away. Probably to find a more worthy opponent.”
“Wow. That’s not scary at all, Billy!”
She pauses to consider this statement, before finally nodding like she were finally convinced by Savannah's words.
“Y’know what, girl? You’re right, there ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of. Just smoke and mirrors, a spell cast by a man who can’t stand alone; not without cheap theatrics to lean on, at least.”
Savannah looks straight into the camera and blows a raspberry, before leaping to her feet and bouncing over to the light-switch. Flicking it up, the room is bathed in light once again. Billy tosses the towel and flashlight aside, seemingly annoyed by something; maybe the fact that she’s recently realized Havoc isn’t the unstoppable demon he’d presented himself as.
Sighing deeply and messing up her already unkempt hair with both hands, she scoots closer to the camera and leans into it.
“It’s always a sad moment when ya realize your role models ain’t all they’re cracked up to be, huh? Dahmer. Manson. Gacy. All of ‘em had secrets - and hidden weaknesses - that ruined their reputation.”
“And y’all ain’t no different, Havoc.”
“I won’t lie. When I first laid eyes on ya, I was impressed. And it wasn’t even your ability that caught my eye, but the way ya carried yourself. Like a real monster. Like ya knew the kinda fear ya commanded among the weak and stupid ‘round these parts, and ya fed off it. Made ya stronger, more vicious, hungrier for blood with each person whose spirit ya broke.”
As Billy addresses her teammate with uncharacteristic calmness, Savannah can be seen in the background jumping on the bed and squealing, occasionally swatting at the blades of the ceiling fan with one hand.
“But the longer I looked, the more I started to see the cracks. The holes in your armour, just wide enough to slip a knife in. If y’all wanna walk ‘round like you’re untouchable, ya best be that; not just pretendin’.”
“Wanna know when I knew ya were nothin’ but a fraud who’d fooled the fuckin’ rubes, like some old-timey snake oil salesman goin’ from town to town?”
“It was when Holt looked at me and that stupid pagan girl backstage, then told us to run out and save your ass from Mikey Bishop. Never did get any thanks for that, by the way. Sure, we were too late to save y’all from bein’ exposed as a fake, but we at least prevented ya from bein' pinned.”
“Holt knew the truth about ya. That ya didn’t have what it takes to close the deal by yourself. That ya needed two women to come rescue the big, strong, scaaaaaary demon.”
“Weird, ain’t it? Ya were strugglin’ so hard against that man, and I don’t recall him givin’ me too much trouble when I tore through four people to snatch the Noble Championship from that jarhead Slade.”
“Almost like the peckin' order is all messed up ‘round here. Almost like ya ain’t the best person to be holdin’ that belt on Holt’s behalf. Almost like it’d be safer ‘round my waist, where nobody’s gonna be able to touch it.”
Humming to herself, Billy looks up at the ceiling and narrows her eyes, placing one hand on her chin as though she were deeply considering her previous words. Like she were giving real thought to using the briefcase in order to ensure the Prime title would be staying in True Society; even if that meant her going up against Havoc in a straight fight.
Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem very worried about the idea of doing so.
“Ah well. I got other things on my plate at the moment, so don’t worry about all that. Yet, at least; we’ll see how ya do in this match we got comin’ up.”
“Just know that if I gotta step in to save your ass again, I’m gonna be takin’ that belt of yours as payment. Billy’s time ain’t cheap, Havoc; y’all gotta pay for my services, one way or another. That hunk of metal ya carry around will do just fine, if I gotta come ridin' to your rescue even one more time.”
Billy smiles at the camera, her eyes sparkling with joy as she reminisces about how wonderful she felt taking Slade’s Noble title away from him, or Syndicate’s briefcase. There was a satisfaction that came from prying those things out of their hands; something that ranked up there alongside a nice, long evening with some poor soul tied to a chair, or a wholesome, bloody armed-robbery-turned-massacre.
Robbing someone of the thing they put so much of their own self-worth into could be just as fun as watching them take their last breath, if the person was prideful enough to make for a long, hard fall from grace.
“Well. I’m sure you’ll do your best to try and make me and the boys scared goin’ into this fight. But I think ya fucked up by relyin’ on terror so much. Ya were so good at it, ya scared all the sheep away! No more easy prey ‘round here, pal.”
“Take a look at True Society. Then take a look at the people lined up against us.”
“Do any of us look scared? Anyone sound intimidated?"
"DO WE SEEM LIKE WE'RE AFRAID OF YA, HAVOC?!?!?!”
“Shit, my old man spent my whole childhood usin’ fear to keep us kids in line. Worked for a while, too; until he pushed too far, and we realized he was just a man like any other.”
“All it bought him in the end was a bullet, and a permanent restin’ place in the swamp.”
“The time for tryin’ to terrify us is over. Won’t work no more; so what are ya without your weapon of choice? Just an angry man tryin’ to compensate, and prayin’ that the dogs don’t turn on their heels to try and bite your own throat.”
“Just like daddy. Hope ya don’t end up like he did.”
“Let’s be honest, ain’t nobody buyin’ your act no more. I sure as hell ain’t; y’all already been exposed, far as I’m concerned. Ain’t a damn thing y’all got to threaten someone like Billy with...”
“And now that I know what ya really are behind the curtain - that ya can bleed and be beaten like anyone else - well... I just can’t wait to see what other truths come to the surface, when I start rippin’ into ya.”
Before she can continue, Billy’s speech is interrupted as her teammate leaps off the bed, landing in a roll and standing up just behind the Floridian. She lifts both hands high into the air and screams loud enough to cause Billy to flinch in surprise.
“YAAAAASSSSS QUEEN, SLAY! DRAG THEM! BIL-LY! BIL-LY! BIL-LY!”
With a groan of exasperation, Billy buries her face in her hands as Savannah continues to jump up and down in a circle around her, waving her hands in the air like a cheerleader without pom-poms.
=======
“ALRIGHT MOTHERFUCKER, I DIDN’T FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO ASHER, OKAY? WELL DON’T WORRY, ANGELO, BECAUSE MY NEW BESTIE IS GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU PAY FOR THAT! SHE’S GONNA RIP OFF YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE DI-“
Billy interrupts this rant by placing a hand on Savannah’s shoulder and whispering something in her ear. Gradually, she calms down as Billy’s words sink in; nodding, she steps into the background and rummages around on the bed for something, as Bennett takes a seat in front of the camera.
“Sorry ‘bout that. That girl is a bit worked up. But who can blame her? Seems like Angelo makes enemies wherever he goes; same as me, I suppose. Difference is, I ain’t got any reason to worry ‘bout pissin' nobody off. I can take care of myself, and pay whatever receipts are comin' my way for every fucked-up thing I’ve said or done.”
“As for our former Gatekeeper? The same man who talked a big game, but couldn’t hold onto his precious li’l belt when he was up against a real challenge. The one who came into True Society needin' to prove somethin’ to the boys in the locker room who knew he didn't belong...”
“Turns out he just didn’t have it in him. His first chance to show the rest of us he wasn’t just dead weight, and he went ahead and dropped the fuckin’ ball."
By now, Savannah has returned to a spot in the background, holding a stack of large, white placards. She lifts one so that the text is pointed towards the camera. It reads in big, black letters:
‘TAKE THE L, DUMMY’
“I’m sick of hearin’ ya talk, Angelo. Spittin’ up your dark fantasies for everyone to hear, but not bein’ able to follow through on your promises. The least ya could do is not get a girl all excited in the first place, if ya ain’t capable of doin’ the job once she’s ready to go.”
“That’s just bad manners, son.”
“So full of anger - and such an imagination for thinkin’ up all kinds of tortures - but too weak to do anythin’ ‘bout it. That’s gotta be awful sad for ya, walkin’ ‘round knowin’ you’re too pathetic to follow up on your own threats.”
“Why do ya gotta be like this, Angelo? Real sorry way of goin’ through life, if ya ask me. Let me guess, rough childhood? Well sit down, shut up, and join the fuckin’ club.”
Sav switches placards:
‘WANNA CRY, BABY BOY?’
“Don’t blame your mommy and daddy, that ain’t fair to ‘em; it’s your own fault ya didn’t learn whatever they were trying’ to teach ya. Your fault ya ain’t nothin’ more than a bad joke among the boys backstage.”
“But let’s focus on business, alright? Your reputation - whatever’s left of it - don’t need no belt to repair the damage you’ve done to it. Wanna make a name for yourself? I’m right here, why don’t ya show everyone how big and bad ya are by steppin’ up to Billy?”
Savannah flips to the next placard, revealing fresh text:
‘BILLY’S GONNA KILL YOU’
“Can’t think of no better way to show everyone ya can hang with us killers, than takin’ me down in the middle of the ring, in front of all them witnesses. Maybe then people would stop laughin’ at ya behind your back.”
“Anyway, whether ya wanna fight me one on one or not don’t really matter, do it? We’re all gonna be in this match together soon... which works real well for ol’ Billy, trust me.”
Another new placard:
‘JUSTICE FOR ASHER’
“Y’see, seems like my new ‘bestie’ - ugh, can’t believe I fuckin’ said that - well, she’s got a problem with y’all, after that business with Asher. Normally, I try to stay outta affairs that ain’t got nothin’ to do with me, but she’s been so nice and understandin’ that... well... I gotta admit, it’s got me feelin’ feelings and all that crap.”
“Almost like I owe her somethin’. Funny, cuz y’all owe her, too; and I got a lot of experience collectin’ debts. What’s one more between friends?”
“Ya need to pay for what ya did to her li’l bro. And the bill is long overdue.”
In the background, another card:
‘Y’ALL BE EASY’
“Real shame, though. Under normal circumstances, I’d never waste more time than I had to on some li’l rat like y’all. But now, I got a reason to go into that ring and put ya through the wringer real slow-like; hell, I’ll let Syndicate and Havoc fight over the crown for a bit. I’ll be done with ya long before they’re finished with each other.”
Billy chuckles a bit, not breaking eye contact with the lens as she leans in a bit closer, dropping her voice to just above a whisper.
“Wanna know somethin’ funny? I gave a thought to approachin’ ya before this match, and offerin’ a partnership of sorts. Y’see, I’m sure ya know that ya got no chance on your own in this match, even if ya won’t admit it.”
“Figured we’d put aside whatever differences we have, and get rid of the other two first... maybe by then, I’d be so hurt, or weak, or exhausted, ya might have been able to get the drop on me, and snatch the crown for yourself.
“It woulda been your only chance, but the minute I saw your face after the match... I knew ya weren’t about to listen to me talkin’ sense. So I ain’t gonna waste my breath doin’ it now. Just wanted to let ya know that I’m gonna be payin’ some special attention to ya, on behalf of my girl Sav here.”
“Might wanna enjoy all your parts while they still work; y’hear me, boy?”
Leaning back to signal the end of her speech, Savannah takes the cue to step in front of Billy and hold the last placard closer to the camera. She raises one middle finger in front of the text, which reads:
‘BAD BITCHES CLUB’
Tossing the paper behind her, Savannah kicks over the table the camcorder was resting on, leaving the lens pointed up at the ceiling as the pair continue to talk off-screen.
“What the fuck? If ya broke that camera, I swear I’ll...”
“Oh...? What will you do to me, Billy?”
“...damnit. Alright, forget it. Just don't do it again.”
A giggle, before Savannah’s voice is heard from out of frame again.
“So who’s up next? Big mad Havoc or big sad Syndicate?”
“Mmm, I was thinkin’ Havoc. Gotta ponder over what I’m gonna say to Sydney a li'l while longer...”
“Chris, huh? Okay, time to bury his goofy ass for good.”
“Who the fuck is Chris?”
“L.”
“M.”
“A.”
“O.”
“Damn bestie, you really do have a lot to learn.”
=======
“Alright, I’m done!” shouts Billy from the other side of the door, as Savannah sits in the bathroom on her phone, waiting for the all-clear to rejoin her teammate outside.
“Sheeeesh, Billy. It took you long enough,” says Savannah as she opens the door and steps back into the hotel room’s main living area.
She’s greeted with an unusual sight: the empty case belonging to a full-sized body pillow, stuffed close to bursting with something lumpy. Drawn on the soft white material - in thick black sharpie marker - is a crude approximation of a face, something that looks like facial hair, and a circular target on the ‘chest’. It’s hanging from the ceiling fan, by way of some sheets twisted up to form a makeshift noose and wrapped around the thing’s ‘neck’.
Standing directly beside it - beaming with pride at a job well done - is Billy Bennett; she gestures at the thing with both hands, like she were showing off a masterpiece at an art gallery unveiling.
Savannah doesn’t seem to know what to think, but she clearly realizes she ought to say something, before Billy gets offended that her work isn’t being appreciated. Looking unsure exactly how she ought to react, Savannah finally speaks up, doing her best to put on an impressed smile.
“Looks... great. What... what is this supposed to be, again?”
It doesn’t seem to be the reaction that Billy was looking for, as she visibly deflates a bit. Her look of pride in her own work disappears, replaced with a blank stare down towards the floor.
“Well...” she pauses to sniffle a bit - her feelings clearly hurt a bit - before continuing, “it’s supposed to be Jason. I mean, I couldn’t capture the aura of little dick energy or nothin’ like that, but I thought the shitty goatee would make it obvious.”
“Ohhhh. Yeah, I see it now,” says Savannah way too quickly, obviously trying to move past the fact that the stuffed, scribbled-on pillow case bears zero resemblance to any living person.
“But, why though?”
“Well, after everythin’ that man put ya through, I thought ya could do with releasin’ some aggression. I know ya won’t get your hands on Jason for a few days yet, but here’s the next best thing!”
“That’s sweet, Billy. But it wasn’t Jason who dropped me off that cage, it’s actually an entity from another di-“
Savannah stops speaking the moment she realizes Billy is fake-snoring at her explanation. Seems her bestie isn’t terribly interested in any of the weird shit that’s been going on with her ex-fiancé lately.
In fact, to her it’s all a bit...
“BOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNN’!”
Walking up to Savannah, Billy claps her harshly on the side of the arm, hard enough to actually send the smaller woman staggering forward a half-step before she catches her footing. Her other hand moves to her belt, unfastening the sheath strapped to it and pulling out her trademark Bowie knife, pointing the tip directly at the pillowcase suspended from the ceiling fan.
“I don’t care what his story is, alright? Don’t matter none; whatever he is, he can bleed like any other man, right? And if he bleeds, we can kill him; trust me on that, girl.”
She grabs Savannah’s right hand, slapping the handle of the knife into her waiting palm and curling her fingers back over the object. Staring into the woman’s eyes, Billy points again at the pillow-Jason, leaning in to whisper directly into her teammate’s ear.
“I know it ain’t really life-like, but just pretend it’s Jason... or... err... 'Mr. N. Tity' or whatever the fuck. And pretend that knife is... well... I guess a bigger knife? Or smaller? I dunno your preference on blades, but that ain’t the point. Go show me what you’re gonna do to that motherfucker when ya get into the ring with him.”
Despite her otherwise calm and collected demeanor throughout the course of the evening, that bit of encouragement seems to be all that Savannah really needs to let her anger out. With a scream - and no small amount of righteous fury behind it - she lunges at the hanging pillow case to plant the tip of the Bowie knife directly into the middle of the object.
As she drags the blade up the ‘belly’ of the effigy, bars of candy begin to spill out from the giant slash in the fabric.
It’s a Jason Long piñata!
With the thing's 'stomach' sliced wide open, Savannah throws the knife to the side before lunging forward to sink her teeth into the ‘throat’ of the piñata. As she thrashes back and forth - pausing to spit out bits of pillowcase - Billy simply strolls up and reaches down to pick up one of the fallen candy bars.
Taking a step back and unwrapping the Trix, she begins to gnaw on it hungrily; pausing only to wipe away a single tear of joy. Billy stares at Savannah as she continues to rip into the thing; there's a wide, beaming smile accompanied by a look of pride on her face, as she watches her friend continue to release some of that hatred that’s been brewing in her.
And even better, Billy knows this isn’t going to be anything compared to what's going to happen when Savannah steps into the ring with Jason.
“Damn, girl, that’s what I wanted to see. Real proud of ya,” grunts Billy between mouthfuls of Twix, standing back and watching as the massacre of the pillowcase continues.
=======
The lights are off in the room as the camcorder records Savannah and Billy, who are sitting across from each other in the dark. The only source of illumination is a flashlight held underneath the Bennett girl's chin, the beam of light pointing up at her face. A towel is draped over her head, unwashed hair spilling out from under it to cover her face like that spooky girl from those 'Ring' movies.
She’s speaking low and grave, doing her best to come across as spooky as possible while she reaches the climax of the ghost story she’d been telling.
“And then, and then, and then, the great and fearsome Nightmare King finally stepped into the ring, facing down the forces of light as his shadows spread across the land.”
“Oooh. And then what happened?”
“Um. Well...” mumbles Billy, as if just now remembering the completely anti-climactic performance put on by the so-called ‘Nightmare King’, “...not much, actually. He couldn’t even put a dent in some fuckin’ big, dumb, slow squid; the same one that Syndicate had on the ropes when they fought. The demon bored him so much, in fact, that he just left the ring and walked away. Probably to find a more worthy opponent.”
“Wow. That’s not scary at all, Billy!”
She pauses to consider this statement, before finally nodding like she were finally convinced by Savannah's words.
“Y’know what, girl? You’re right, there ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of. Just smoke and mirrors, a spell cast by a man who can’t stand alone; not without cheap theatrics to lean on, at least.”
Savannah looks straight into the camera and blows a raspberry, before leaping to her feet and bouncing over to the light-switch. Flicking it up, the room is bathed in light once again. Billy tosses the towel and flashlight aside, seemingly annoyed by something; maybe the fact that she’s recently realized Havoc isn’t the unstoppable demon he’d presented himself as.
Sighing deeply and messing up her already unkempt hair with both hands, she scoots closer to the camera and leans into it.
“It’s always a sad moment when ya realize your role models ain’t all they’re cracked up to be, huh? Dahmer. Manson. Gacy. All of ‘em had secrets - and hidden weaknesses - that ruined their reputation.”
“And y’all ain’t no different, Havoc.”
“I won’t lie. When I first laid eyes on ya, I was impressed. And it wasn’t even your ability that caught my eye, but the way ya carried yourself. Like a real monster. Like ya knew the kinda fear ya commanded among the weak and stupid ‘round these parts, and ya fed off it. Made ya stronger, more vicious, hungrier for blood with each person whose spirit ya broke.”
As Billy addresses her teammate with uncharacteristic calmness, Savannah can be seen in the background jumping on the bed and squealing, occasionally swatting at the blades of the ceiling fan with one hand.
“But the longer I looked, the more I started to see the cracks. The holes in your armour, just wide enough to slip a knife in. If y’all wanna walk ‘round like you’re untouchable, ya best be that; not just pretendin’.”
“Wanna know when I knew ya were nothin’ but a fraud who’d fooled the fuckin’ rubes, like some old-timey snake oil salesman goin’ from town to town?”
“It was when Holt looked at me and that stupid pagan girl backstage, then told us to run out and save your ass from Mikey Bishop. Never did get any thanks for that, by the way. Sure, we were too late to save y’all from bein’ exposed as a fake, but we at least prevented ya from bein' pinned.”
“Holt knew the truth about ya. That ya didn’t have what it takes to close the deal by yourself. That ya needed two women to come rescue the big, strong, scaaaaaary demon.”
“Weird, ain’t it? Ya were strugglin’ so hard against that man, and I don’t recall him givin’ me too much trouble when I tore through four people to snatch the Noble Championship from that jarhead Slade.”
“Almost like the peckin' order is all messed up ‘round here. Almost like ya ain’t the best person to be holdin’ that belt on Holt’s behalf. Almost like it’d be safer ‘round my waist, where nobody’s gonna be able to touch it.”
Humming to herself, Billy looks up at the ceiling and narrows her eyes, placing one hand on her chin as though she were deeply considering her previous words. Like she were giving real thought to using the briefcase in order to ensure the Prime title would be staying in True Society; even if that meant her going up against Havoc in a straight fight.
Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem very worried about the idea of doing so.
“Ah well. I got other things on my plate at the moment, so don’t worry about all that. Yet, at least; we’ll see how ya do in this match we got comin’ up.”
“Just know that if I gotta step in to save your ass again, I’m gonna be takin’ that belt of yours as payment. Billy’s time ain’t cheap, Havoc; y’all gotta pay for my services, one way or another. That hunk of metal ya carry around will do just fine, if I gotta come ridin' to your rescue even one more time.”
Billy smiles at the camera, her eyes sparkling with joy as she reminisces about how wonderful she felt taking Slade’s Noble title away from him, or Syndicate’s briefcase. There was a satisfaction that came from prying those things out of their hands; something that ranked up there alongside a nice, long evening with some poor soul tied to a chair, or a wholesome, bloody armed-robbery-turned-massacre.
Robbing someone of the thing they put so much of their own self-worth into could be just as fun as watching them take their last breath, if the person was prideful enough to make for a long, hard fall from grace.
“Well. I’m sure you’ll do your best to try and make me and the boys scared goin’ into this fight. But I think ya fucked up by relyin’ on terror so much. Ya were so good at it, ya scared all the sheep away! No more easy prey ‘round here, pal.”
“Take a look at True Society. Then take a look at the people lined up against us.”
“Do any of us look scared? Anyone sound intimidated?"
"DO WE SEEM LIKE WE'RE AFRAID OF YA, HAVOC?!?!?!”
“Shit, my old man spent my whole childhood usin’ fear to keep us kids in line. Worked for a while, too; until he pushed too far, and we realized he was just a man like any other.”
“All it bought him in the end was a bullet, and a permanent restin’ place in the swamp.”
“The time for tryin’ to terrify us is over. Won’t work no more; so what are ya without your weapon of choice? Just an angry man tryin’ to compensate, and prayin’ that the dogs don’t turn on their heels to try and bite your own throat.”
“Just like daddy. Hope ya don’t end up like he did.”
“Let’s be honest, ain’t nobody buyin’ your act no more. I sure as hell ain’t; y’all already been exposed, far as I’m concerned. Ain’t a damn thing y’all got to threaten someone like Billy with...”
“And now that I know what ya really are behind the curtain - that ya can bleed and be beaten like anyone else - well... I just can’t wait to see what other truths come to the surface, when I start rippin’ into ya.”
Before she can continue, Billy’s speech is interrupted as her teammate leaps off the bed, landing in a roll and standing up just behind the Floridian. She lifts both hands high into the air and screams loud enough to cause Billy to flinch in surprise.
“YAAAAASSSSS QUEEN, SLAY! DRAG THEM! BIL-LY! BIL-LY! BIL-LY!”
With a groan of exasperation, Billy buries her face in her hands as Savannah continues to jump up and down in a circle around her, waving her hands in the air like a cheerleader without pom-poms.
=======
The pair sit on the floor in front of the television set, as they watch Savannah’s choice of movie: The Little Mermaid.
Billy’s never seen it before; Disney films didn’t really fit into the unique upbringing she suffered through as the only daughter of an Everglades criminal kingpin.
And while she didn’t understand most of it - particularly the shit about love and understanding - one thing did strike her as relevant. The theme of transforming oneself, a person becoming something other than what they already were.
Change.
At some point, Billy had stopped watching the movie entirely, turning her head to stare - instead - at Savannah sitting next to her.
Another person who had changed, though it didn’t seem to be her own decision. At least not entirely so. Not at first. From bubbly babyface, to damsel in distress, to someone finally thinking for themselves and bad bitch in training.
Everything she’d done - and had done to her - in the past few months was enough to capture Billy’s interest, the moment she’d heard about all the drama on Fallout. It was interesting, to watch someone so pure and innocent be dragged through the dirt by everyone they cared for... and still refuse to be broken by the trauma.
Someone who took all their suffering and hardship, and used it to become something different. Someone who would be able to take all the abuse thrown at her, and return the favour.
Hell, she even insisted - earlier in the evening - that there was no need for Billy to apologize for any of the horrible, hateful shit she’d said about her in the past. Forgiveness in the face of such violent threats and mocking, prodding comments stunned the Bennett girl.
It spoke to a strength of character and a willingness to adapt on the part of Savannah Sunshine.
And it had Billy wondering to herself: if this girl was strong enough to change who she was, to become a better person, more in line with who she wanted - or needed - to be...
...was the same thing possible for her, as well?
She ponders the idea for a few seconds at most, before the very thought causes her to laugh out loud. Looking somewhat amused - and more than a bit confused - by this outburst, Savannah glances over to catch Billy still staring straight at her.
“What’s so funny?”
Still smiling at the concept of ‘self improvement’ or ‘change’ being something she was even remotely capable of, Billy just shakes her head and shrugs it off with one last chuckle.
“Nothin’, Sav. You’re just swell, is all.”
“Awww! Thanks, bestie!”
As Savannah leans over to give the disheveled swamp dweller a big hug, Billy suddenly comes up with an idea.
“Hey, when we’re done with this one, I got a movie to show ya.”
It was a nice change of pace for a while, but enough with this sappy, childish stuff; recent events call for a different mood entirely.
=======
The movie Billy was referring to is 'Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives', one of the few films the family owned while she was growing up.
At least, one of the only fictional movies. There was a fairly large collection of homemade torture and snuff films back home, but those are all still in Florida.
Maybe she’d get around to showing Savannah those someday, if the girl seemed to have the right potential to travel that far into the same darkness that Billy had spent her entire life living in.
Both of them are leaning towards the TV, as if completely enthralled by the violence occurring on the screen. As Jason Vorhees beheads Stan, Kate and Larry in quick succession, Billy just scoffs. As much as she loves the film, there’s one thing that always bothers her.
“So stupid. There’s way more blood when ya take a man’s head off like that.”
“Really?” asks Savannah, sounding more than a little curious.
“Oh, trust me, girl,” replies Billy smoothly. If she knows one thing, it’s the amount of blood lost for every conceivable injury that could be inflicted on man or beast.
There’s a moment of silence between them as they continue to watch the film, before Billy’s brow furrows in thought. She reaches out to nudge Savannah with her elbow, waiting until she gets the woman’s attention before making an offer.
“Y'know, if ya wanted to see it for real sometime, I’d love to have ya tag along with me on a bit of business. Could show ya a thing or two that might come in handy down the line. And lemme tell ya, ain’t nothin’ better for buildin’ confidence than hearin’ some tough guy beggin’ ya for mercy.”
Turning her attention back to the screen, Billy shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth as Savannah continues to look over at her. There’s a faint hint of a twinkle in her eyes, like she was honestly considering it.
Before she can respond, Billy speaks through a mouthful of popcorn, little bits falling out onto the carpet as she finishes her earlier thought.
“I mean, if Holt didn’t mind. I can promise ya both there wouldn’t be no risk or nothin’; I’d take real good care of ya. Ain’t nothin’ bad gonna happen to ya with Billy ‘round, I promise!”
Another pause, before Billy interrupts the movie once again.
“Ever rob a bank?”
=======
Sitting in a chair, Billy’s neck is inclined to stare up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan. Her eyes are unfocused, watching the circular movement disinterestedly; as the thing turns and turns, her mind wanders down its usual avenues of thought.
She doesn’t even glance at Savannah, who is kneeling on the ground beside her, applying - of all things - nail polish to the unapologetically unkempt Billy Bennett’s right hand.
How did it come to this?
Eventually, she begins to ponder the upcoming show; what it means for her, for the brand, and for True Society.
Even Billy would have to admit that Jason had really pulled a fast one on her. The very next show after she’d finally displayed her true colours by stabbing Syndicate in the back, and she’s booked in a match against the man, as well as two other teammates; neither of which are likely to be too happy with her recent behaviour.
Particularly the man who ended up dropping his belt as a result of Billy taking Syndicate out of the match early.
Then again, it worked in her favour all the same; because this was what she’d always wanted. Stepping into a ring against the big dog himself... well, he wasn’t that any more, but it was up to Billy to pull him back up to the peak he'd been knocked down from.
Even if it meant offering herself as a sacrifice to rekindle his fury. The same fury and strength that allowed him to defeat the British Raven.
Both of the things which he seemed to have lost, the moment he’d put that Legacy Championship around his waist.
As a connoisseur of all things violent, Billy couldn’t sit by and watch an apex predator lose its teeth like that. Not without stepping in to try and reverse the damage.
She’d build him back up herself if she had to; but first, that meant tearing him down so thoroughly that only his foundations remained.
Was he there yet? That remained to be seen. If he could put up the proper showing in this next match, Billy’s work - and potentially her life itself - might be over.
If not?
Well, she had all the time in the world to keep working away at her little 'project'.
Her mind continues to wander down various paths, until she happens to shoot a quick glance at the work being done on her fingernails. When her eyes fall on the nail polish Savannah has been applying, Billy lets out a rather uncharacteristic screech of distress, pushing herself out of the chair and staring at the back of her hand in horror.
Her nails are PINK.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! I SAID I’D ONLY LET YA DO IT IF YA USED BLACK!”
Savannah covers her mouth with one hand, as she begins to giggle at Billy’s reaction. Somehow, that simple gesture seems to break through the Floridian's embarrassment and fury in an instant.
“...whatever. Get the camera. I’m finally ready to talk to the big man.”
=======
Billy is sitting cross-legged in front of the old camcorder’s scratched lens. Rather than the usual antics from the Queen of Candyland, Savannah is simply standing behind her teammate, holding Billy’s Universal Briefcase aloft gesturing to it with one hand like Vanna White showing off a prize.
Noticeably, the 'L.A. Outlaw' logo has been painted over with a circle of gold spray-paint.
As for the Bennett girl herself? Rather than the somewhat playful demeanor she had when addressing her other opponents, she is dead serious this time. No smile. No condescending tone. Not even the slightest hint of her unstable psyche leaking through her stern exterior.
She looks laser focused, eyes staring straight into the camera without their usual twitching and wandering. When she finally speaks, it’s as calm and controlled as anything that’s ever come out of the mouth of Billy Bennett.
“Sydney.”
A single word, but the weight it carries with it speaks volumes to her feelings surrounding the man. It’s spoken like something she’d spent days, weeks, maybe even months considering and playing with deep inside her twisted mind.
Like she’d been waiting for this exact moment, licking her lips every time she thought of giving this precise address to the former top gun of True Society.
After letting that word hang in the air by itself for several long moments, she opens her mouth as that oddly sincere tone is heard once more.
“Some insurance policy ya turned out to be, huh? Couldn’t even keep your own shit safe, how were ya plannin’ on doing the same for anyone else?”
“Awww, poor Syndicate, did you drop your briefcase? Ooops! Butterfingers!”
“But put that outta your head for the time bein’. Billy’s got the briefcase now, so at least now Havoc's Prime Championship is safe... and those belts we lost will be headed home to True Society soon enough.”
"I promise y'all that much."
“Now, let’s get down to it, huh? I been wantin’ to have this talk with ya for a li’l while, and I’m sick of puttin’ it off any longer.”
“I ain’t gonna be callin’ ya no names, or threatenin’ ya, or makin’ light of your accomplishments. Wanna know why?”
“Because I respect ya too much for all that.”
She nods her head once - grave and serious - as if confirming to anyone watching this tape that they didn't mishear her.
“It’s true. When it comes to your raw potential - and what you’ve already done in this company - I got nothin’ but respect, maybe even a spot of admiration. Might be hard to believe comin’ from me, but you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Shrugging as if she couldn’t care one way or another whether Syndicate believed any of this, Billy carries on.
“Now, before we go any further, I know y’all might be confused about what happened that night. Was it an accident? Was that bat bound to crack ya upside the head even if Elena didn't push ya in my way?”
“I can’t lie, I was gonna do it sooner or later, anyway. Sure, I’d have loved to spend more time in the match before takin’ your briefcase away from ya... but if it didn’t happen when it did, ya wouldn’t have been waitin’ more than a couple extra minutes for me to stab ya in the back.”
“Ever since I first saw ya backstage - carryin’ ‘round your pathetic li’l trophies like they meant a damn thing - I couldn’t wait to sink my fuckin' fangs into ya. Just needed the right moment, and Holt was kind enough to provide the perfect opportunity.”
“By the way, dontcha think it’s weird I never got pulled aside and dressed down for knockin’ your dumb ass out and takin’ that case? Almost like the boss knows ya weren’t up to the task of holdin’ onto it.”
“Can’t really blame him, though. It don't take a great mind to realize that someone who can’t even hold onto his own spot ain’t in no condition to protect this lovely li’l group Holt’s pulled together.”
“Shit, I’m half expectin’ a raise - or at least a pat on the back - for securin’ the briefcase, makin’ sure it didn’t fall into enemy hands. Best believe that if I didn’t snatch it, it would’ve been Elena, or Hyde, or Jason.”
“And if that happened? Shit, I don’t got a doubt in my mind that Holt would have the rest of us hurt ya real bad for costin’ True Society such a valuable prize. Ya oughta thank me for savin’ ya from that fate; but you’re too fuckin’ narcissistic to see the big picture, ain’t that right?”
“More focused on Sydney than the group, hm?”
“Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout what I took from ya?”
“Feelin' angry? Boy, I sure hope so.”
“Because I’m tired of watchin’ ya mope around. Ya forget who ya were already?”
“Syndicate, the LA Outlaw, the man who reached the top just by bein’ so damn capable, so damn hungry, so damn determined that he knocked Elena DeDraca off her pedestal... and more than temporarily, if her recent performances are tellin’ the full story.”
“Yep. I think ya clipped the wings of that British Raven once and for all, when nobody else could even come close to accomplishin’ that.”
“Now, I only got one question, but it’s an important one. In fact, it’s so important the fate of Holt’s plans might rest on the answer.”
A sudden slapping sound rings out, as Billy claps her hands together. She holds them together in mock prayer as she leans in towards the camera lens, voice taking on an inquisitive, almost pleading tone.
“Where did that man go?”
Savannah has clearly burned through the last of her patience for standing in the background. Shoving her way in front of Billy, she drops the briefcase to the ground as she points a finger directly into the lens as she goes off on the camera.
“That’s right, where did he go?! Where you at, Syndicate, huh? Huh?!”
Billy’s serious expression turns into a frown at this intrusion, clearly unable to laugh it off and roll with it like she did when addressing Angelo or Havoc. To her, this isn’t some light manner suitable for reckless trash talk or the like.
Truthfully, there wasn’t a single thing in her life more important - at this very second - than giving this speech properly.
In the first show of anything resembling real anger with her new teammate, she stands up and reaches out with both hands to grab Savannah by the shoulders. For a second, it looks like things might actually turn violent; the frustrated scowl on Bennett’s face seems to signal a return to her usual self.
But through some great feat of willpower, she manages to stop herself in time. The grip around Savannah’s shoulders loosens, and the look of anger on Billy’s face melts away, replaced with something more resembling that of a parent scolding an unruly child.
“Thanks, Sav, really. But not this one, okay? This is serious. Why dontcha go do somethin’ else for a bit? I’ll try to make this quick.”
The only sign of visible nervousness from her friend is a small gulp, as Savannah nods her head before clicking the heels of her feet together and offering Billy a sarcastic - but still strangely sincere and apologetic - salute with her right hand.
“You got it, Billy!”
Skipping away into the background, Savannah finally settles onto the carpet in front of Billy’s backpack. Unzipping it, she begins to rummage around inside, pulling out objects and setting them down to the side after careful inspection.
While this occurs - unbeknownst to Billy herself, of course - she sits back down in the same spot and continues where she left off, after offering a mildly embarrassed smile to the camera.
“Holt needs him.”
“True Society needs him.”
“Hell, might even be that I need him, too.”
“Just take a look at the mess comin’ up on the horizon, Sydney. A storm of blood and bone is headed our way, and it’s too late to turn back now. Hell, I sure wouldn’t wanna miss the show, even if we could avoid it.”
“Naw. We’re headed right into the eye of this hurricane; and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
In the background, there is already a pile of Billy’s belongings on the ground next to Savannah, who continues to rummage through the backpack. Lighters, several knives of various lengths, a pair of needle-nosed pliers - the tip crusty with dried blood - and a few handfuls of gold teeth/fillings, all spread out over the carpet.
“Point is, we ain’t got no room for dead weight.”
“We need the L.A. Outlaw for the war that’s gearin’ up to kick off. Battle lines have been drawn, people already armed and rarin’ to go, there’s even been a few shots fired across the no man’s land.”
“Hell, I bet some of these people even believe the war already started... but we know better, don’t we Sydney? We know this ain’t nothin' compared to the powder keg we’re all sittin’ on.”
“The fuse is runnin’ short now, and when it finally reaches the end and ignites this bomb, it’s gonna make the fights we already been in look like a sunny day on Miami Beach.”
“So, I hope all this helps ya understand where I’m comin’ from. Why I did what I did, why I had no choice but to give ya a wake-up call.”
Billy's belongings are still being rifled through by the other woman, as she continues to explain her thinking to the camera - and the audience of one that this entire video is meant for. Savannah pulls her hand out of the backpack, and this time it’s clutching a Beretta pistol; with a devious smile, she racks the slide.
The noise is enough to get Billy’s attention, even with her attention seemingly focused solely on her monologue. Eyes snap open wide in surprise and frustration, as she jumps up to her feet and stomps towards Savannah, who simply holds her hands - and the pistol - up in the air.
Grabbing her teammate under the arm and lifting her up to her feet, Billy shoves the other woman up against the nearest wall and points a finger in her face, as she gives her a terse lecture on the importance of gun safety and trigger discipline. Finished dressing-down her friend, Bennett snatches the handgun from Savannah and removes the clip, clearing the chamber before handing the now-harmless weapon back to her.
Shaking her head in disbelief as she steps back towards the camera and sits back down on the floor, Billy mumbles under her breath for a few seconds before rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily and picking up where she left off.
“So, now ya know why I did what I did. Why I been prayin on your downfall since I saw what that damn belt turned ya into.”
“Here’s where I’ll let ya know the bad news: I ain’t stoppin' until ya show me my work is done. That ya learned the lesson I’m tryin’ to teach ya. That you’re ready to step up and lay waste to your enemies again.”
“Sure, ya don’t got a belt for me to take, and ya don’t got a briefcase no more, either.”
“But surely ya got somethin' ya still care about, right?”
“Anyway. I’m sure if I paid a visit to the Irvine residence and sat down for a nice cup of coffee with the lady of the house - really got to know how things worked at home - I’d think of some way to push ya even closer to the edge.”
In the background, Savannah continues to move the contents of the backpack onto the floor, for no purpose other than to snoop around Billy’s things. Finally, it’s nearly empty. One of the last few items in there is a pair of handcuffs.
Well, several pairs, in fact. One for each limb on the human body, and an extra just in case.
Savannah lifts one pair out of the backpack, arching her eyebrow wickedly and looking at the back of Billy’s head. Pulling the key from its place on the lock, Savannah hides it in one of the dresser drawers before snapping one of the cuffs closed around her own wrist. She begins to crawl towards her prey, as the Bennett girl continues speaking to the camera, blissfully unaware of the impending danger.
“Oh, and one last thing... if ya want that briefcase back, it’s as simple as steppin’ into the ring with me. Just us, Sydney, at long last. If ya beat me - fair or not, it don’t matter to me - I’ll give ya this damn thing back, along with a big ol' hug.”
A smile that drips sadism and cruelty flashes across her face, eyes practically boring into the camera lens; an intensity in her gaze that can be sensed even through video.
“But don’t leave me waitin' much longer, ‘cause I can’t guarantee I won’t get bored soon. And when I get bored, I might just start usin’ these cards up, no matter who holds the belts.”
Savannah finally finishes sneaking up on Billy, locking the other end of the handcuffs around the Bennett’s wrist with a *CLICK*. Glancing over at her wrist, then up at her teammate, Billy looks like she hardly knows how to react to this; particularly after she'd given Savannah countless warnings to leave her alone during such an important speech.
“Where are the keys, Sav?” she asks in a flat, unimpressed deadpan.
Billy only gets a giggle in response at first, before Savannah smiles wide and rubs her chin in overly dramatic mock-thought.
“Gee, I wonderrrr. Well, you better get to looking, Billy! Or maybe you think you can make me tell you where I put them?”
=======
She doesn’t even glance at Savannah, who is kneeling on the ground beside her, applying - of all things - nail polish to the unapologetically unkempt Billy Bennett’s right hand.
How did it come to this?
Eventually, she begins to ponder the upcoming show; what it means for her, for the brand, and for True Society.
Even Billy would have to admit that Jason had really pulled a fast one on her. The very next show after she’d finally displayed her true colours by stabbing Syndicate in the back, and she’s booked in a match against the man, as well as two other teammates; neither of which are likely to be too happy with her recent behaviour.
Particularly the man who ended up dropping his belt as a result of Billy taking Syndicate out of the match early.
Then again, it worked in her favour all the same; because this was what she’d always wanted. Stepping into a ring against the big dog himself... well, he wasn’t that any more, but it was up to Billy to pull him back up to the peak he'd been knocked down from.
Even if it meant offering herself as a sacrifice to rekindle his fury. The same fury and strength that allowed him to defeat the British Raven.
Both of the things which he seemed to have lost, the moment he’d put that Legacy Championship around his waist.
As a connoisseur of all things violent, Billy couldn’t sit by and watch an apex predator lose its teeth like that. Not without stepping in to try and reverse the damage.
She’d build him back up herself if she had to; but first, that meant tearing him down so thoroughly that only his foundations remained.
Was he there yet? That remained to be seen. If he could put up the proper showing in this next match, Billy’s work - and potentially her life itself - might be over.
If not?
Well, she had all the time in the world to keep working away at her little 'project'.
Her mind continues to wander down various paths, until she happens to shoot a quick glance at the work being done on her fingernails. When her eyes fall on the nail polish Savannah has been applying, Billy lets out a rather uncharacteristic screech of distress, pushing herself out of the chair and staring at the back of her hand in horror.
Her nails are PINK.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! I SAID I’D ONLY LET YA DO IT IF YA USED BLACK!”
Savannah covers her mouth with one hand, as she begins to giggle at Billy’s reaction. Somehow, that simple gesture seems to break through the Floridian's embarrassment and fury in an instant.
“...whatever. Get the camera. I’m finally ready to talk to the big man.”
=======
Billy is sitting cross-legged in front of the old camcorder’s scratched lens. Rather than the usual antics from the Queen of Candyland, Savannah is simply standing behind her teammate, holding Billy’s Universal Briefcase aloft gesturing to it with one hand like Vanna White showing off a prize.
Noticeably, the 'L.A. Outlaw' logo has been painted over with a circle of gold spray-paint.
As for the Bennett girl herself? Rather than the somewhat playful demeanor she had when addressing her other opponents, she is dead serious this time. No smile. No condescending tone. Not even the slightest hint of her unstable psyche leaking through her stern exterior.
She looks laser focused, eyes staring straight into the camera without their usual twitching and wandering. When she finally speaks, it’s as calm and controlled as anything that’s ever come out of the mouth of Billy Bennett.
“Sydney.”
A single word, but the weight it carries with it speaks volumes to her feelings surrounding the man. It’s spoken like something she’d spent days, weeks, maybe even months considering and playing with deep inside her twisted mind.
Like she’d been waiting for this exact moment, licking her lips every time she thought of giving this precise address to the former top gun of True Society.
After letting that word hang in the air by itself for several long moments, she opens her mouth as that oddly sincere tone is heard once more.
“Some insurance policy ya turned out to be, huh? Couldn’t even keep your own shit safe, how were ya plannin’ on doing the same for anyone else?”
“Awww, poor Syndicate, did you drop your briefcase? Ooops! Butterfingers!”
“But put that outta your head for the time bein’. Billy’s got the briefcase now, so at least now Havoc's Prime Championship is safe... and those belts we lost will be headed home to True Society soon enough.”
"I promise y'all that much."
“Now, let’s get down to it, huh? I been wantin’ to have this talk with ya for a li’l while, and I’m sick of puttin’ it off any longer.”
“I ain’t gonna be callin’ ya no names, or threatenin’ ya, or makin’ light of your accomplishments. Wanna know why?”
“Because I respect ya too much for all that.”
She nods her head once - grave and serious - as if confirming to anyone watching this tape that they didn't mishear her.
“It’s true. When it comes to your raw potential - and what you’ve already done in this company - I got nothin’ but respect, maybe even a spot of admiration. Might be hard to believe comin’ from me, but you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Shrugging as if she couldn’t care one way or another whether Syndicate believed any of this, Billy carries on.
“Now, before we go any further, I know y’all might be confused about what happened that night. Was it an accident? Was that bat bound to crack ya upside the head even if Elena didn't push ya in my way?”
“I can’t lie, I was gonna do it sooner or later, anyway. Sure, I’d have loved to spend more time in the match before takin’ your briefcase away from ya... but if it didn’t happen when it did, ya wouldn’t have been waitin’ more than a couple extra minutes for me to stab ya in the back.”
“Ever since I first saw ya backstage - carryin’ ‘round your pathetic li’l trophies like they meant a damn thing - I couldn’t wait to sink my fuckin' fangs into ya. Just needed the right moment, and Holt was kind enough to provide the perfect opportunity.”
“By the way, dontcha think it’s weird I never got pulled aside and dressed down for knockin’ your dumb ass out and takin’ that case? Almost like the boss knows ya weren’t up to the task of holdin’ onto it.”
“Can’t really blame him, though. It don't take a great mind to realize that someone who can’t even hold onto his own spot ain’t in no condition to protect this lovely li’l group Holt’s pulled together.”
“Shit, I’m half expectin’ a raise - or at least a pat on the back - for securin’ the briefcase, makin’ sure it didn’t fall into enemy hands. Best believe that if I didn’t snatch it, it would’ve been Elena, or Hyde, or Jason.”
“And if that happened? Shit, I don’t got a doubt in my mind that Holt would have the rest of us hurt ya real bad for costin’ True Society such a valuable prize. Ya oughta thank me for savin’ ya from that fate; but you’re too fuckin’ narcissistic to see the big picture, ain’t that right?”
“More focused on Sydney than the group, hm?”
“Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout what I took from ya?”
“Feelin' angry? Boy, I sure hope so.”
“Because I’m tired of watchin’ ya mope around. Ya forget who ya were already?”
“Syndicate, the LA Outlaw, the man who reached the top just by bein’ so damn capable, so damn hungry, so damn determined that he knocked Elena DeDraca off her pedestal... and more than temporarily, if her recent performances are tellin’ the full story.”
“Yep. I think ya clipped the wings of that British Raven once and for all, when nobody else could even come close to accomplishin’ that.”
“Now, I only got one question, but it’s an important one. In fact, it’s so important the fate of Holt’s plans might rest on the answer.”
A sudden slapping sound rings out, as Billy claps her hands together. She holds them together in mock prayer as she leans in towards the camera lens, voice taking on an inquisitive, almost pleading tone.
“Where did that man go?”
Savannah has clearly burned through the last of her patience for standing in the background. Shoving her way in front of Billy, she drops the briefcase to the ground as she points a finger directly into the lens as she goes off on the camera.
“That’s right, where did he go?! Where you at, Syndicate, huh? Huh?!”
Billy’s serious expression turns into a frown at this intrusion, clearly unable to laugh it off and roll with it like she did when addressing Angelo or Havoc. To her, this isn’t some light manner suitable for reckless trash talk or the like.
Truthfully, there wasn’t a single thing in her life more important - at this very second - than giving this speech properly.
In the first show of anything resembling real anger with her new teammate, she stands up and reaches out with both hands to grab Savannah by the shoulders. For a second, it looks like things might actually turn violent; the frustrated scowl on Bennett’s face seems to signal a return to her usual self.
But through some great feat of willpower, she manages to stop herself in time. The grip around Savannah’s shoulders loosens, and the look of anger on Billy’s face melts away, replaced with something more resembling that of a parent scolding an unruly child.
“Thanks, Sav, really. But not this one, okay? This is serious. Why dontcha go do somethin’ else for a bit? I’ll try to make this quick.”
The only sign of visible nervousness from her friend is a small gulp, as Savannah nods her head before clicking the heels of her feet together and offering Billy a sarcastic - but still strangely sincere and apologetic - salute with her right hand.
“You got it, Billy!”
Skipping away into the background, Savannah finally settles onto the carpet in front of Billy’s backpack. Unzipping it, she begins to rummage around inside, pulling out objects and setting them down to the side after careful inspection.
While this occurs - unbeknownst to Billy herself, of course - she sits back down in the same spot and continues where she left off, after offering a mildly embarrassed smile to the camera.
“Holt needs him.”
“True Society needs him.”
“Hell, might even be that I need him, too.”
“Just take a look at the mess comin’ up on the horizon, Sydney. A storm of blood and bone is headed our way, and it’s too late to turn back now. Hell, I sure wouldn’t wanna miss the show, even if we could avoid it.”
“Naw. We’re headed right into the eye of this hurricane; and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
In the background, there is already a pile of Billy’s belongings on the ground next to Savannah, who continues to rummage through the backpack. Lighters, several knives of various lengths, a pair of needle-nosed pliers - the tip crusty with dried blood - and a few handfuls of gold teeth/fillings, all spread out over the carpet.
“Point is, we ain’t got no room for dead weight.”
“We need the L.A. Outlaw for the war that’s gearin’ up to kick off. Battle lines have been drawn, people already armed and rarin’ to go, there’s even been a few shots fired across the no man’s land.”
“Hell, I bet some of these people even believe the war already started... but we know better, don’t we Sydney? We know this ain’t nothin' compared to the powder keg we’re all sittin’ on.”
“The fuse is runnin’ short now, and when it finally reaches the end and ignites this bomb, it’s gonna make the fights we already been in look like a sunny day on Miami Beach.”
“So, I hope all this helps ya understand where I’m comin’ from. Why I did what I did, why I had no choice but to give ya a wake-up call.”
Billy's belongings are still being rifled through by the other woman, as she continues to explain her thinking to the camera - and the audience of one that this entire video is meant for. Savannah pulls her hand out of the backpack, and this time it’s clutching a Beretta pistol; with a devious smile, she racks the slide.
The noise is enough to get Billy’s attention, even with her attention seemingly focused solely on her monologue. Eyes snap open wide in surprise and frustration, as she jumps up to her feet and stomps towards Savannah, who simply holds her hands - and the pistol - up in the air.
Grabbing her teammate under the arm and lifting her up to her feet, Billy shoves the other woman up against the nearest wall and points a finger in her face, as she gives her a terse lecture on the importance of gun safety and trigger discipline. Finished dressing-down her friend, Bennett snatches the handgun from Savannah and removes the clip, clearing the chamber before handing the now-harmless weapon back to her.
Shaking her head in disbelief as she steps back towards the camera and sits back down on the floor, Billy mumbles under her breath for a few seconds before rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily and picking up where she left off.
“So, now ya know why I did what I did. Why I been prayin on your downfall since I saw what that damn belt turned ya into.”
“Here’s where I’ll let ya know the bad news: I ain’t stoppin' until ya show me my work is done. That ya learned the lesson I’m tryin’ to teach ya. That you’re ready to step up and lay waste to your enemies again.”
“Sure, ya don’t got a belt for me to take, and ya don’t got a briefcase no more, either.”
“But surely ya got somethin' ya still care about, right?”
“Anyway. I’m sure if I paid a visit to the Irvine residence and sat down for a nice cup of coffee with the lady of the house - really got to know how things worked at home - I’d think of some way to push ya even closer to the edge.”
In the background, Savannah continues to move the contents of the backpack onto the floor, for no purpose other than to snoop around Billy’s things. Finally, it’s nearly empty. One of the last few items in there is a pair of handcuffs.
Well, several pairs, in fact. One for each limb on the human body, and an extra just in case.
Savannah lifts one pair out of the backpack, arching her eyebrow wickedly and looking at the back of Billy’s head. Pulling the key from its place on the lock, Savannah hides it in one of the dresser drawers before snapping one of the cuffs closed around her own wrist. She begins to crawl towards her prey, as the Bennett girl continues speaking to the camera, blissfully unaware of the impending danger.
“Oh, and one last thing... if ya want that briefcase back, it’s as simple as steppin’ into the ring with me. Just us, Sydney, at long last. If ya beat me - fair or not, it don’t matter to me - I’ll give ya this damn thing back, along with a big ol' hug.”
A smile that drips sadism and cruelty flashes across her face, eyes practically boring into the camera lens; an intensity in her gaze that can be sensed even through video.
“But don’t leave me waitin' much longer, ‘cause I can’t guarantee I won’t get bored soon. And when I get bored, I might just start usin’ these cards up, no matter who holds the belts.”
Savannah finally finishes sneaking up on Billy, locking the other end of the handcuffs around the Bennett’s wrist with a *CLICK*. Glancing over at her wrist, then up at her teammate, Billy looks like she hardly knows how to react to this; particularly after she'd given Savannah countless warnings to leave her alone during such an important speech.
“Where are the keys, Sav?” she asks in a flat, unimpressed deadpan.
Billy only gets a giggle in response at first, before Savannah smiles wide and rubs her chin in overly dramatic mock-thought.
“Gee, I wonderrrr. Well, you better get to looking, Billy! Or maybe you think you can make me tell you where I put them?”
=======
Billy Bennett is sequestered in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub after placing the camcorder on the nearby sink. Seems she’s hiding in here from Savannah, trying to get this last bit down on tape - uninterrupted - while she can still concentrate on it.
“It’s just a matter of what’s best for True Society, ain’t nothin’ more to it than that. You’re all damn fine at what ya do; some of the best, in fact. But let’s be real here, huh? None of y’all are even half as smart as ya seem to think ya are.”
“That’s a fact, boys, much as it might hurt your pride to hear it.”
“Fallout don’t need some rank-and-file soldier pretendin’ to be a King. Fallout needs a proper Queen. After all, Holt’s gonna need someone better than y’all to see his plans through, all the way to the end.”
“Someone cunnin’ enough to watch his back like he deserves. Someone vicious enough to keep everyone in line; not through threats, but through promises. Someone who ain’t already been publicly embarrassed like y’all have.”
“Good thing he’s got me, ain’t it?”
“At the end of the day, Billy knows best. So get in line behind me, and I’ll make sure y’all see the end of whatever’s comin’ our way. As intact and healthy as possible, I promise.”
“Or don’t; but you’re gonna have to show me what all your talk is really worth, in that case.”
“The way I see it, y’all really only got two choices: rise up, or get on your knees and bow down.”
At these last words, the bathroom door is kicked in by Savannah, who’d obviously been listening on the other side this entire time. Ignoring Billy completely, she swaggers up to the camera and begins to berate the imaginary audience.
“That’s right bitches, y’all heard your Queen: bow down to Billy!”
Bennett's expression is somewhere between mortified and amused, but the hint of a smirk on her face seems to push it closer to the latter. Even so, she hides her face out of embarrassment, as Savannah continues to go off on the camera.
=======
Well into the next morning, Billy stands alone in front of the bathroom sink.
There’s none of the joy from the past several hours visible on her face, no sign of warmth in the blank eyes that greets her as she stares into the mirror. From the corner of her mouth, a string of drool and vomit that leads all the way down into the porcelain sink.
There’s a thin layer of cold sweat that covers every visible inch of skin, teeth chattering away like she were simultaneously freezing cold and burning up. She’s shaking visibly, something that she hadn’t done during her time with Savannah Sunshine.
It comes as no surprise to Billy that she feels - and looks - like death. It’s been over a day since she arrived at the hotel, leaving all her drugs in the car out of some bizarre respect for the boss’ sweetheart.
That means she hasn’t had a fix in over 24 hours. More than long enough for the specter of withdrawal to start making itself known, a painful, throbbing ache settling in her bones and the beginnings of an all-consuming anxiety clawing away deep inside her mind. She’d tried her best to ignore it for as long as possible, try to push it back to enjoy just one more hour here, with the teammate she’d grown strangely close with over the course of the ‘party’.
But some things are inevitable. And the bill for all her habits and addictions is finally due, as her limbs tremble uncontrollably, hands gripping at the edges of the sink so hard that her knuckles turn white.
“Naw, Billy, get it together... I can make it last... just... a li’l bit longer...”
She groans those words at her reflection, voice low and quivering, almost throwing up a few times as she struggles to make it through the sentence. She says them, but she knows it’s not possible. Time to pay the piper, and all that comes with that; she just isn't strong enough to weather the storm.
She can't do it.
Not for herself. Not for her new friend. Not even for the boss.
She’d already sold her body and mind to her own personal demons, a long time before she realized there was a different path through life. And now that she’s spent some time with someone who - against all odds - seemed to actually enjoy her company, the idea that her life could have possibly ended up any other way is enough to bring a tear to her eye.
More than one, in fact. They start to flow down her cheeks as she cries in silence, without so much as a single sob escaping from her cracked lips.
Whatever chance she might have had to be something other than what she's become - if it even existed in the first place, considering her fucked-up childhood and the family she was born into - is long gone. There’s no going back. No storybook transformation for Billy Bennett.
She was a junkie. An addict. A killer. An outlaw. A lunatic drug-dealer who most people couldn’t be paid enough money to spend time around.
Whatever Savannah Sunshine saw in her, Billy was convinced it was a mirage on the part of her new ‘friend’. Some bit of innocence or decency that her teammate thought was waiting just under the rough and tumble exterior of the Floridian, but didn’t actually exist.
Just an illusion.
She had to accept it, or the thought that her life could have turned out any other way would surely break her already fragile mind permanently.
Slapping herself across both cheeks a few times, she wipes the sweat off her face with a towel; it doesn’t last, as her skin is once again slick with moisture almost immediately after she pulls the cloth away. She tosses the towel into the bathtub, then wipes the trail of spit off the corner of her lips as she struggles to get a handle on herself.
Just enough to get out of here, and back to her car to get well. Then back to Florida. Back to the swamp, where she belonged.
What was she even doing this far away from home, anyway? She wasn’t built for this kind of life; she belonged in the streets, doing what she did best.
If she hadn’t promised her services to Andrew Holt - or if she wasn’t having so much fun carrying out his will and spreading chaos on Fallout - it’s likely that she’d have already moved back home full-time and forgotten about this whole professional wrestling thing.
But she was in for the long haul, now. No turning back for Billy. Once she’d committed herself - to anything in life - she always saw it through. No matter what.
Stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door behind her, she spots the form of Savannah, still curled up asleep on the ground next to the bed. With a quiet sigh, Billy steps towards her as silently as she can, not wanting to risk waking her up after she’d finally drifted off to sleep. Noticeably, the woman does her best to not look at her new friend’s sleeping face, like she feels somehow guilty about something.
She’d been on her best behaviour over the course of their time together; and maybe that was the problem. Maybe Billy felt like she’d misrepresented herself, putting on an act to make Savannah feel at ease, feel welcome, feel like she could actually make friends with the mentally unstable criminal.
“So stupid,” spits Billy, at herself rather than the sleeping woman. How could she ever fool herself into thinking that she deserved something like a friend? After everything she’d done, the fact that she wasn’t dead - or in a cell for the rest of her life - ought to be more than enough for Billy to feel content.
No matter how someone looked at it - unless they were taking body count or skill with a blade into account - Savannah Sunshine was better than her.
Billy really shouldn’t even be in the same room with that woman, let alone spending time alone with someone that far above her. In the past, her solution to this kind of situation had always been to drag the other person down to her level; the same thing she’d tried to do with Syndicate, or any number of other ‘interests’ or ‘projects’ she’d had in the past.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it to Savannah, though. And it wasn’t just because of her relationship with Holt. There was something else about her that seemed to elude Billy; like she was just too good a person to hurt or degrade, now that she’d finally gotten to know her a bit.
It only made Billy feel more guilty about the shit she’d said about Savannah in the past. It had all been out of some desire to unnerve her prior to a match, or force her back into Arik’s arms, or attempting to provoke some rage within Jason Long prior to their match... and maybe - though Billy could never admit it to herself - a bit of jealousy.
She’d never know what it was like to have men chasing after her. Or even people she could honestly call friends; despite Savannah’s insistence that she was that to Billy, it was difficult for the Bennett girl to accept it. There’s no way someone like that would want to be her friend. It just didn’t make any sense, no matter how she tried to approach the idea in her mind.
Probably just trying to be nice to one of her boyfriend’s best soldiers.
Something like that.
Must have been.
Moving slowly and carefully so as not to wake her, Billy grabs a thin blanket balled up on the foot of the bed and drapes it over Savannah as lightly as she possibly can. There’s a sniff, as if the Bennett girl were trying to fight back more tears; or it could just be the sniffles as withdrawal continues to take its toll on her, growing worse with every minute that passes.
“Thanks, for... all this.”
Moving to her bag - packed up left waiting near the door before she’d entered the bathroom - Billy slings it over her shoulder and unlocks the door before stepping out into the hallway, leaving her new teammate sleeping on the carpet.
“It’s just a matter of what’s best for True Society, ain’t nothin’ more to it than that. You’re all damn fine at what ya do; some of the best, in fact. But let’s be real here, huh? None of y’all are even half as smart as ya seem to think ya are.”
“That’s a fact, boys, much as it might hurt your pride to hear it.”
“Fallout don’t need some rank-and-file soldier pretendin’ to be a King. Fallout needs a proper Queen. After all, Holt’s gonna need someone better than y’all to see his plans through, all the way to the end.”
“Someone cunnin’ enough to watch his back like he deserves. Someone vicious enough to keep everyone in line; not through threats, but through promises. Someone who ain’t already been publicly embarrassed like y’all have.”
“Good thing he’s got me, ain’t it?”
“At the end of the day, Billy knows best. So get in line behind me, and I’ll make sure y’all see the end of whatever’s comin’ our way. As intact and healthy as possible, I promise.”
“Or don’t; but you’re gonna have to show me what all your talk is really worth, in that case.”
“The way I see it, y’all really only got two choices: rise up, or get on your knees and bow down.”
At these last words, the bathroom door is kicked in by Savannah, who’d obviously been listening on the other side this entire time. Ignoring Billy completely, she swaggers up to the camera and begins to berate the imaginary audience.
“That’s right bitches, y’all heard your Queen: bow down to Billy!”
Bennett's expression is somewhere between mortified and amused, but the hint of a smirk on her face seems to push it closer to the latter. Even so, she hides her face out of embarrassment, as Savannah continues to go off on the camera.
=======
JANUARY 23rd, 2021
Well into the next morning, Billy stands alone in front of the bathroom sink.
There’s none of the joy from the past several hours visible on her face, no sign of warmth in the blank eyes that greets her as she stares into the mirror. From the corner of her mouth, a string of drool and vomit that leads all the way down into the porcelain sink.
There’s a thin layer of cold sweat that covers every visible inch of skin, teeth chattering away like she were simultaneously freezing cold and burning up. She’s shaking visibly, something that she hadn’t done during her time with Savannah Sunshine.
It comes as no surprise to Billy that she feels - and looks - like death. It’s been over a day since she arrived at the hotel, leaving all her drugs in the car out of some bizarre respect for the boss’ sweetheart.
That means she hasn’t had a fix in over 24 hours. More than long enough for the specter of withdrawal to start making itself known, a painful, throbbing ache settling in her bones and the beginnings of an all-consuming anxiety clawing away deep inside her mind. She’d tried her best to ignore it for as long as possible, try to push it back to enjoy just one more hour here, with the teammate she’d grown strangely close with over the course of the ‘party’.
But some things are inevitable. And the bill for all her habits and addictions is finally due, as her limbs tremble uncontrollably, hands gripping at the edges of the sink so hard that her knuckles turn white.
“Naw, Billy, get it together... I can make it last... just... a li’l bit longer...”
She groans those words at her reflection, voice low and quivering, almost throwing up a few times as she struggles to make it through the sentence. She says them, but she knows it’s not possible. Time to pay the piper, and all that comes with that; she just isn't strong enough to weather the storm.
She can't do it.
Not for herself. Not for her new friend. Not even for the boss.
She’d already sold her body and mind to her own personal demons, a long time before she realized there was a different path through life. And now that she’s spent some time with someone who - against all odds - seemed to actually enjoy her company, the idea that her life could have possibly ended up any other way is enough to bring a tear to her eye.
More than one, in fact. They start to flow down her cheeks as she cries in silence, without so much as a single sob escaping from her cracked lips.
Whatever chance she might have had to be something other than what she's become - if it even existed in the first place, considering her fucked-up childhood and the family she was born into - is long gone. There’s no going back. No storybook transformation for Billy Bennett.
She was a junkie. An addict. A killer. An outlaw. A lunatic drug-dealer who most people couldn’t be paid enough money to spend time around.
Whatever Savannah Sunshine saw in her, Billy was convinced it was a mirage on the part of her new ‘friend’. Some bit of innocence or decency that her teammate thought was waiting just under the rough and tumble exterior of the Floridian, but didn’t actually exist.
Just an illusion.
She had to accept it, or the thought that her life could have turned out any other way would surely break her already fragile mind permanently.
Slapping herself across both cheeks a few times, she wipes the sweat off her face with a towel; it doesn’t last, as her skin is once again slick with moisture almost immediately after she pulls the cloth away. She tosses the towel into the bathtub, then wipes the trail of spit off the corner of her lips as she struggles to get a handle on herself.
Just enough to get out of here, and back to her car to get well. Then back to Florida. Back to the swamp, where she belonged.
What was she even doing this far away from home, anyway? She wasn’t built for this kind of life; she belonged in the streets, doing what she did best.
If she hadn’t promised her services to Andrew Holt - or if she wasn’t having so much fun carrying out his will and spreading chaos on Fallout - it’s likely that she’d have already moved back home full-time and forgotten about this whole professional wrestling thing.
But she was in for the long haul, now. No turning back for Billy. Once she’d committed herself - to anything in life - she always saw it through. No matter what.
Stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door behind her, she spots the form of Savannah, still curled up asleep on the ground next to the bed. With a quiet sigh, Billy steps towards her as silently as she can, not wanting to risk waking her up after she’d finally drifted off to sleep. Noticeably, the woman does her best to not look at her new friend’s sleeping face, like she feels somehow guilty about something.
She’d been on her best behaviour over the course of their time together; and maybe that was the problem. Maybe Billy felt like she’d misrepresented herself, putting on an act to make Savannah feel at ease, feel welcome, feel like she could actually make friends with the mentally unstable criminal.
“So stupid,” spits Billy, at herself rather than the sleeping woman. How could she ever fool herself into thinking that she deserved something like a friend? After everything she’d done, the fact that she wasn’t dead - or in a cell for the rest of her life - ought to be more than enough for Billy to feel content.
No matter how someone looked at it - unless they were taking body count or skill with a blade into account - Savannah Sunshine was better than her.
Billy really shouldn’t even be in the same room with that woman, let alone spending time alone with someone that far above her. In the past, her solution to this kind of situation had always been to drag the other person down to her level; the same thing she’d tried to do with Syndicate, or any number of other ‘interests’ or ‘projects’ she’d had in the past.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it to Savannah, though. And it wasn’t just because of her relationship with Holt. There was something else about her that seemed to elude Billy; like she was just too good a person to hurt or degrade, now that she’d finally gotten to know her a bit.
It only made Billy feel more guilty about the shit she’d said about Savannah in the past. It had all been out of some desire to unnerve her prior to a match, or force her back into Arik’s arms, or attempting to provoke some rage within Jason Long prior to their match... and maybe - though Billy could never admit it to herself - a bit of jealousy.
She’d never know what it was like to have men chasing after her. Or even people she could honestly call friends; despite Savannah’s insistence that she was that to Billy, it was difficult for the Bennett girl to accept it. There’s no way someone like that would want to be her friend. It just didn’t make any sense, no matter how she tried to approach the idea in her mind.
Probably just trying to be nice to one of her boyfriend’s best soldiers.
Something like that.
Must have been.
Moving slowly and carefully so as not to wake her, Billy grabs a thin blanket balled up on the foot of the bed and drapes it over Savannah as lightly as she possibly can. There’s a sniff, as if the Bennett girl were trying to fight back more tears; or it could just be the sniffles as withdrawal continues to take its toll on her, growing worse with every minute that passes.
“Thanks, for... all this.”
Moving to her bag - packed up left waiting near the door before she’d entered the bathroom - Billy slings it over her shoulder and unlocks the door before stepping out into the hallway, leaving her new teammate sleeping on the carpet.
=====================
Back home, where she belongs.
Billy sits on a chair in the dining room of the main house, a place she rarely enters these days; she prefers being outside the compound taking care of family business. While here, she usually spends most of her time in the wilderness that surrounds the property, or her private shack when she’s finally forced to take a rest.
Spread out on the table in front of her is one of the many family photo albums; this one seems to be specifically for Billy, as she’s presently setting a polaroid picture of herself and Savannah - sticking their tongues out at the camera and squinting - underneath the plastic sheet that secures the photographs in place.
That done, she spends a few moments staring down at the picture, sighing with some strange mixture of regret and fondness.
And then she starts to flip back through the other pages. So many photographs, so many memories.
Oh look, it’s the mobster she’d been sent all the way to Newark to kill, back when she was just 18. She still remembers the way his fingers bounced when they hit the ground, after being sliced off trying to prevent her snare from digging into his throat. That funny gurgling noise he made - the one that nobody else had been able to match in the years since - still made her laugh when she thought back on it.
And there’s her very first lover, one of the few truly romantic moments in her entire life. Unfortunately - and perhaps predictably - he didn’t survive the act; Billy had gotten a bit carried away, and by the time she took a glance down at his face he was already long-gone. She really didn’t mean to strangle him to death, she was just fooling around a little bit. Oh, well. These things happen.
Hey, it’s the first time her father took her out to slaughter one of the pigs. Billy looks to be about 8 or 9, a bloody bone-saw in one hand as she holds a pig’s severed head up with the other. On her face, the happiest, most innocent smile imaginable. Good times.
She flips again, and this time her gaze falls upon a photograph of the whole family. Must have been when she was 5, maybe 6 at the most. Both her parents. The old family Bloodhound. Only 7 Bennett kids, instead of the 13 that her father and mother would eventually have.
Billy is standing on the very edge of the photograph, pushed to the side as the only daughter in the family. She was used to it, and seeing that it was established this far back comes as no surprise to her.
She’s about to flip the page when something catches her eye... she recognizes her posture in the photograph from something she’d seen recently.
The realization hits her like a gunshot, a wave of nausea rolling over Billy as her mind starts to crack along fine, jagged lines. Reaching down into the pocket of her jeans with one shaking hand, she pulls out the folded photograph that Mr. Wright attacked her with last Fallout.
She unfolds it, then presses it up against the photo resting on the table. It matches her stance and appearance in the original perfectly... but the version here in the family photo album was missing this second girl. The one who looks like she fits alongside the rest of the family so well.
Who was she? Why couldn’t she remember her?
“Naw... this ain’t... real...”
Suddenly standing up and knocking aside the chair she’d been sitting in, Billy reels as her vision spins; a sudden rush of panic coursing through her. An anxiety she hadn’t felt since childhood seizes her as she lurches forward, pressing both hands against the surface of the table to steady herself.
There is the sound of clattering and faint singing from the adjacent room; a pleasant sound that seems almost out of place in this bleak, demented place. It catches the attention of Billy Bennett, her head snapping to stare at the door leading to the kitchen.
Her eyes are wild, uncontrolled. Her breath is ragged and rough. She needed answers.
One way or another, she’d get them.
“MAMA! GET IN HERE! WE GOTTA TALK!”
=====================
JANUARY 27th, 2021
Back home, where she belongs.
Billy sits on a chair in the dining room of the main house, a place she rarely enters these days; she prefers being outside the compound taking care of family business. While here, she usually spends most of her time in the wilderness that surrounds the property, or her private shack when she’s finally forced to take a rest.
Spread out on the table in front of her is one of the many family photo albums; this one seems to be specifically for Billy, as she’s presently setting a polaroid picture of herself and Savannah - sticking their tongues out at the camera and squinting - underneath the plastic sheet that secures the photographs in place.
That done, she spends a few moments staring down at the picture, sighing with some strange mixture of regret and fondness.
And then she starts to flip back through the other pages. So many photographs, so many memories.
Oh look, it’s the mobster she’d been sent all the way to Newark to kill, back when she was just 18. She still remembers the way his fingers bounced when they hit the ground, after being sliced off trying to prevent her snare from digging into his throat. That funny gurgling noise he made - the one that nobody else had been able to match in the years since - still made her laugh when she thought back on it.
And there’s her very first lover, one of the few truly romantic moments in her entire life. Unfortunately - and perhaps predictably - he didn’t survive the act; Billy had gotten a bit carried away, and by the time she took a glance down at his face he was already long-gone. She really didn’t mean to strangle him to death, she was just fooling around a little bit. Oh, well. These things happen.
Hey, it’s the first time her father took her out to slaughter one of the pigs. Billy looks to be about 8 or 9, a bloody bone-saw in one hand as she holds a pig’s severed head up with the other. On her face, the happiest, most innocent smile imaginable. Good times.
She flips again, and this time her gaze falls upon a photograph of the whole family. Must have been when she was 5, maybe 6 at the most. Both her parents. The old family Bloodhound. Only 7 Bennett kids, instead of the 13 that her father and mother would eventually have.
Billy is standing on the very edge of the photograph, pushed to the side as the only daughter in the family. She was used to it, and seeing that it was established this far back comes as no surprise to her.
She’s about to flip the page when something catches her eye... she recognizes her posture in the photograph from something she’d seen recently.
The realization hits her like a gunshot, a wave of nausea rolling over Billy as her mind starts to crack along fine, jagged lines. Reaching down into the pocket of her jeans with one shaking hand, she pulls out the folded photograph that Mr. Wright attacked her with last Fallout.
She unfolds it, then presses it up against the photo resting on the table. It matches her stance and appearance in the original perfectly... but the version here in the family photo album was missing this second girl. The one who looks like she fits alongside the rest of the family so well.
Who was she? Why couldn’t she remember her?
“Naw... this ain’t... real...”
Suddenly standing up and knocking aside the chair she’d been sitting in, Billy reels as her vision spins; a sudden rush of panic coursing through her. An anxiety she hadn’t felt since childhood seizes her as she lurches forward, pressing both hands against the surface of the table to steady herself.
There is the sound of clattering and faint singing from the adjacent room; a pleasant sound that seems almost out of place in this bleak, demented place. It catches the attention of Billy Bennett, her head snapping to stare at the door leading to the kitchen.
Her eyes are wild, uncontrolled. Her breath is ragged and rough. She needed answers.
One way or another, she’d get them.
“MAMA! GET IN HERE! WE GOTTA TALK!”
=====================
