Post by bennett on Feb 26, 2022 15:27:51 GMT -5
Death to Tyrants
====================
FEBRUARY 20th, 2022PHILADELPHIA, PA
THE WELLS FARGO CENTER
Backstage, just minutes after the True Society victory in the evening’s main event, Billy Bennett walks towards the unused room she’s claimed as her changing area. She finds it without her usual aimless wandering, her mind still sharp from adrenaline and focused without a ton of narcotics weighing down her thought process.
Locating the door and opening it, Billy walks in... to find Savannah Andrews already inside, wearing the Ascension belt and dancing around the large supply closet. The sound of the door opening - and Billy’s heavy boots stomping on the ground - are enough to capture her attention, as she turns to face her friend with a smile.
“Oh, there you are. I’ve been waaaaaaiting,” says Savannah, rubbing the faceplate of the belt with one hand - in a rather provocative fashion - as she looks the new owner of that championship up and down.
Pausing in the doorway to take in the scene, Billy cracks a small smile at the sight of her one - and only - friend in this entire world. Just the sight of her is enough to bleed the tension and violent thoughts out of the Floridian; like being near her pal was enough to take some weight off her shoulders.
Billy strolls to the large shelves where her briefcase and backpack are resting, speaking to Savannah as she does so.
“Hey, Sav. Looks real nice on ya, sorry ‘bout how that all turned out, y’know... I mean, if ya wanted, I’m sure we could work some way t-”
When she turns back around, Savannah is directly in front of her, smiling in Billy’s face as she leans in to cut off her speech by whispering in the woman’s ear.
“Oh, stop. I already said I didn’t want it that way. And anyway, you deserve it. Especially after stomping Alyssa’s dumb face in. God, that must have felt good.”
As her hot breath pours into Billy’s ear, the Floridian’s head swims; she’s practically intoxicated, as feelings she’d never allowed herself to indulge begin to swell inside her. Something about being this close to Savannah had a profound effect on her; she was still coming to terms with the odd obsession she has for the woman... the one she had ever since she joined Project: Honor and first caught sight of her.
“Yeah, well... it did,” says Billy, trying to keep things light as she stares into Savannah’s unblinking eyes. There’s something different about her lately, something that Billy is just now able to put her finger on.
There’s an aggressiveness inside the former Queen of Candyland, where there was only bubbly cuteness before. Like something had been awoken in her, like she’d been pushed too far and had - finally - decided to fight back against all the injustices and abuse she’d been put through.
Like she was the real hunter in the room, not Billy Bennett.
She struggles to find something to say in response, anything to change the subject... but before she can, Savannah lashes out with both hands to shove Billy back against the shelves. They rattle and shake as her spine crashes into them, as Billy's face twists in confusion and shock at this sudden outburst.
“H-hey, wh-...” she mumbles, about to ask her friend what the big idea was; but a part of her already knows what this is all about, though she’s too embarrassed to face those kinds of thoughts head-on... not without being forced to do so; which seems to be Savannah's intent.
And anyway, she doesn’t get the chance to finish her question, as Savannah leans in to plant a small, brief kiss on her closed lips. Even as gentle and innocent as the gesture is, it almost takes Billy’s feet out from under her, as her knees buckle at the sudden rush of sensation that floods her body.
It’s only the pressure of Savannah’s body, keeping her back pressed up against the metal shelves, that prevent her from dropping to her knees.
“Uhhh...” mutters Billy, utterly dumbstruck as Savannah pulls back slightly to stare inquisitively into her eyes, like she were watching and waiting for a reaction, any sign that this is exactly what the Floridian had been waiting for.
Somewhere in Billy’s gaze, hidden behind her confused eyes, might be just the thing Savannah is looking for.
It seems to be the case, as Savannah wears a smug, self-congratulatory expression on her face; like she’d gotten just what she had intended to get out of the sudden romantic gesture.
“Listen, Billy, it seems like you might have misunderstood all this. We’re not just friends, you know? I wasn’t kidding when I called you my pet girlfriend.”
“Ummm...”
Despite her best efforts, Billy just can’t find any words; a fact that her friend seems to find endlessly amusing, covering her mouth with one hand as she giggles at the woman’s red-faced embarrassment.
“Aw, is Savannah making Bad Bitch Billy shy? Huh. Didn’t think I had it in me...” she says proudly, though the tone of her voice makes it obvious that she never had any doubt of the unique effect her presence had on the Ascension champion.
“Is it really that easy to shut you up? Damn, I’ll have to remember that.”
“O-okay, very f-...” her voice comes out as a hoarse, squeaky thing at first; she has to clear her throat and try again, before it sounds like anything remotely resembling the hardened killer Billy Bennett... and even then, she sounds almost laughably meek in the face of Savannah’s uncharacteristic aggression.
“Very funny, Sav...”
“Who’s joking? Not me.”
An additional benefit to being in such close physical proximity is the fact that Billy can’t see what Savannah is doing with her hands... so when the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs close around her wrist, the other side secured to the thick, steel bar of the shelves, it comes as a total surprise.
“Hey, wait a se-...”
“Nah. I don’t think I’ll wait,” says Savannah with a smirk, as Billy moves her restrained arm to confirm that the cuffs are closed tight.
Shit.
It’s not the first time her friend had decided to fool around with Billy’s cuffs, but the look in her eyes seemed to point towards one fact: she wasn’t playing games this time.
“W-what are ya doin’...?”
“Funny you should ask; I’ve watched you take whatever you wanted since you joined this company and... well... it looked like so much fun, I figured I'd give it a shot, too!”
Billy doesn’t have to ask what it is her friend wants; and anyway, she’s too nervous, self-conscious and - though she’s trying, and failing, to hide it - excited to put that into words.
Instead, she reaches for another excuse, anything to get her out of this awkward situation. Not that she doesn’t want something similar, but... this is Savannah Andrews, after all. Surely there’s been some kind of mistake here.
Billy is so far beneath her that she should escape the woman’s notice entirely.
“What about Holt, though, he cou-...”
“Who? Oh, him. Well, do you see him around here?” asks Savannah innocently, turning around to gesture at the room, empty but for the two of them.
“Listen, Billy. I’m done screwing around here. I know what you want. I’m going to need to hear you say it, though.”
The captive woman swallows hard at this comment; she knows there’s no way out of this conversation. She has no doubt that Savannah would stand here - with Billy handcuffed to the shelves - until she got the confession she wanted.
Rather than waste all that time trying to act ignorant, Billy instead opens her mouth to speak... and her voice is barely audible, her eyes shut tight out of embarrassment at this predicament... and the emotions that she's desperately trying to bite back. To say nothing of the weakness she feels in this situation, like she was nothing more than prey for her friend to pick away at.
“...please...”
“That’s better,” exclaims Savannah, clapping her hands together proudly at her success in dragging that admission out of the most feared woman in the entire company... and so easily, too.
“Now, let’s get down to it, huh? I’d say I’ll be gentle, but that’s not what you want, is it?”
====================
The scene - recorded with Billy’s old camcorder - opens up to a scene of the new Ascension champion, sitting in what looks to be one of the venue’s smaller, private changing areas. As evidenced by the date and time stamp on the bottom right corner of the screen, it’s only an hour or two after the end of the night’s event in Philadelphia.
Seems Billy had found somewhere better to film this than the supply room she had her gear and briefcase stashed in.
With the camera propped on a nearby bench, Billy sits a few feet in front of it, cross-legged on the ground in a tattered, oversized old ‘Swindle Shelldrake’ undershirt and her usual stained jeans. Her jacket, vest, t-shirt, universal briefcase and championship belt are strewn all over the tiled floor behind her.
Visible on the pale skin of her throat are several red marks, like someone had their hands wrapped around her throat; and when she turns in a certain direction, fresh scratches can be seen on her arms and the visible parts of her back. An observer with a keen eye - and knowledge of such things - would probably be able to notice that she’s been struggling back against handcuffs recently, as there are deep indents running all the way across the skin of both wrists.
Her hair, a proper mess even on the best of days, is completely fucked up. Disheveled would be the understatement of the century; it’s clear she’s been through some serious shit in the interim between the end of the main event and this recording.
Her gaze is clear and focused, looking different than the last time she was seen on video cutting a promo. There’s no drugged-out haze, no manic tension lurking just behind her eyes... and although there’s still something ‘off’ about her entire appearance and manner, it’s obvious that sobriety has done wonders for her ability to keep herself together.
Somewhere in the background, the sound of running water - a shower - can be heard from the adjoining room.
“Somethin’ I wanted to say, while it was still fresh in my head,” she says, her voice hoarse and raspy; it likely has something to do with those marks on her neck.
“I owe an apology to someone.”
There’s a vague look of contrition on her face, and it’s obvious to anyone who knows the woman that she’s being sincere when she speaks. There’s no hint of humour, or hidden amusement, or some twisted, inside joke that only Billy is privy to. She means it.
“Sydney. I’ve given ya a lotta shit this past month or two, and ya gotta know that ya deserved it,” she mumbles unapologetically, clearly not the least bit regretful for anything she’s done to him.
“But things change, and ya proved me wrong... or right. Can’t really decide which is the case, but that’s beside the point, y’know?”
“We couldn’t have done that without ya. Slade and I woulda tore each other to pieces, and one of those damn fools on the other side would’ve got the win. Simple as that.”
“I knew it would be worth me puttin’ in all that work, all that time, all that effort to tear ya down nice and proper. ‘Cause now, you’re back where ya need to be... where we all needed ya to be this whole time.”
“The old Syndicate, back at last. A fuckin’ animal: no hesitation, no morals. Just vicious, cold-blooded professionalism.”
Billy smiles the smile of a woman whose efforts have finally bore fruit; she knew all Syndicate needed was a shove off the right cliff, a long fall to the bottom, and a painful impact in the dirt, and then he’d be right as rain again.
To her, it’s just more proof that she was justified - righteous, in fact - in putting him through such torture.
It all paid off.
“So now y’know, everythin’ I did was for a damn good reason. Just like I said to y’all, not that ya wanted to fuckin’ hear it at the time...”
“I ain’t expectin’ no thanks from none of y’all, for seein’ what needed to be done. All I ask is... in the future... trust me, okay boys?”
She leans in to grin even wider at the camera, apparently finding some part of this entire situation incredibly amusing as her shoulders shake with restrained laughter.
“Anyway, I noticed ya weren’t booked on this next show, huh? Fair enough. The way I see it, the man who won us the war deserves some time off.”
“See ya when ya get back, Sydney. Don’t take too long, though, y’hear me?”
“I might just start missin' ya.”
With one hand, she blows the most obnoxious, sarcastic, over-the-top kiss imaginable into the lens of the camera, before reaching out with that same hand to stop the recording.
====================
FEBRUARY 24th, 2022
DEEP LAKE, FL
THE BENNETT COMPOUND
In a meeting room inside one of the larger outbuildings at the Bennett compound near Deep Lake, a small summit is taking place. A long table runs down the middle of the room, separating the two sides. On one side of the table, a leader from a street gang operating out of the Watts neighbourhood of Los Angeles; a recent partner in the family’s ever-expanding business dealings. Behind him, seven individuals dressed in street clothes; an awful lot of it purple in colour.
And on the other side sits Bo Bennett, alone but for one individual standing behind him on his right side. Billy Bennett, seemingly unarmed... but looking no less confident for it; she doesn’t seem remotely bothered by the fact that there are eight armed men looking across the table at her and her brother.
In fact, she’s hardly paying attention to the conversation; they drone on about upcoming shipments of guns and drugs, an ongoing turf war with the Bloods in their area, and other issues. It only concerns Billy in that she’s sure she’ll be required to involve herself in the more difficult bits of business; any important details will be repeated to her later, so she allows her mind to wander.
And what dominates the thoughts of Billy Bennett in the middle of a business meeting with a handful of armed gangsters?
Oddly enough, Andrew Holt.
Something had been weighing on her since the night of The Crowning. Something digging away in the back of her mind. Like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch, it kept her awake in the small hours, forcing her to turn the issue around in her head in an effort to reason her way out of it.
The boss. The man she’d pledged her loyalty to, nearly on-par with the sense of duty she felt to her own family. The one who had picked her - a young rookie with no professional experience - out of the roster, to elevate to a position as his most capable, and arguably most trusted, soldier.
Someone she had once felt admiration and respect for, someone she had once held in the highest regard as a competent, brilliant, ruthless man who handled his business like a professional, someone she would kill - and maybe even die - for.
The one who had turned down Billy’s offer to help with Elena DeDraca, and paid the price for such hubris with a crushing defeat; albeit one that required the assistance of Christian DeMarco. The one who had let himself be outplayed by Indy Darling and his gang of fools - Lil Petey excluded, of course - and been relegated to some token desk position far away from the reins of Fallout. The one who had left his fiancé - Billy’s best and only friend, Savannah Andrews - at the venue after the show was over.
Inexplicably, it was the last one that bothered her the most. Holt was prideful, so she understood why he wanted to handle Elena himself; and anyway, it wouldn’t be a good idea to risk Billy getting injured before Wargames, even though that was highly unlikely to occur at the hands of that woman. And honestly, there was no way - that she could see, at any rate - for Holt to have protected himself against the scheming union of Darling, Ekaterin, and the rest.
But what he could do - what he should have done - was look after his woman. The one he had longed after, the one who held such importance to him that he turned Fallout into a river of blood after she had rejected him, the one he wouldn’t shut the fuck up about.
And he’d left her there.
Good thing for him Billy was around to take care of his fiancé, when he was too occupied - or ambivalent - to do it himself.
Everything Savannah had gone through that night at the Crowning, and he’d abandoned her.
Even the memory of that slight is enough to twist Billy’s face into a scowl, an expression that appears to be noticed by some of the gangsters on the other end of the table, as they nervously fidget and eye up the frowning Bennett girl.
How could Holt protect Savannah, if he couldn’t even watch his own back and keep the hounds from tearing him out of his spot as General Manager of Fallout? If he couldn’t even see that Elena would be forced to rely on outside interference to get the win - something that Billy had warned him about repeatedly leading up to the event - then maybe he wasn’t the visionary that she had him pegged as.
Yeah.
Fuck Andrew Holt.
If he wasn’t smart enough, crafty enough, or cunning enough to hold onto his spot at the top, he deserved to be embarrassed like he was. The laws of nature always superseded whatever notions society dreamt up about fair play and sportsmanship.
Billy had clearly misjudged the man; she thought he was sharper than he actually was. And that was fine, in her mind. Everybody makes mistakes, after all; the boss had made his fair share, and it had cost him.
That the only price she’d been forced to pay thus far was admitting she had been wrong, was a small one to pay considering all that she’d gotten away with.
As she considers the failings of the man she had spent months serving without question - and what his recent downfall meant for the future of True Society - she starts to half-listen to the conversation again.
“Don’t worry, Trey. If I tell Billy ‘do it’, then it’s done. Ain’t that right, sis?”
It’s the voice of her brother, bragging that there wasn’t a problem that existed too big for the Bennetts - or more specifically, his sister - to handle. And though she hears him well enough, she’s still too wrapped up in her own thoughts to respond in an appropriate - for Bo, at any rate - timeframe.
“BILLY.”
This time, his voice is loud, harsh, demanding; and it carries with it a certain threat, an undercurrent of danger. Bo knows he’s one of the few people alive - maybe even the only one - who can talk to his sister like that, and he likely knows what such a display means for his reputation around the hardened gangbangers here to discuss business.
“That’s right. Ya heard my big bro, don’t worry your fuckin’ heads over it. Ain’t a motherfucker been born yet that I can’t touch,” she says, only guessing at the fact that whatever job she was being volunteered for involved at least one person dead at the end of it.
Turns out she’s right, as her words get a smile from the head representative of the gang; they seem to satisfy her brother as well, although there is a small moment of hesitation before he turns his gaze away from her. When he does, he continues speaking to the visitors, and Billy is forgotten once again; except for the few nervous glances shot at her from the men on the other side of the room.
“Well, there y’all have it. Now, about that other bit of work at the port..."
Of course they were here to get some help from the family; most business could be handled off the compound, but Bo insisted that anyone seeking assistance from the Bennett clan come and pay them a visit in person. Out of respect.
There had been quite a few visitors lately, ever since Bo started building new alliances in his quest for greater power and reach. It was something of a selling point to entering into a business arrangement with the Bennetts: the ability to maybe - depending on the situation and payment, of course - enlist the aid of the infamous Billy Bennett.
Yet another case of her brother using her reputation, her name, to enrich himself as the head of the family business. Predictably, she was still waiting for him to give her his thanks... or even to acknowledge her contributions, the ones that had arguably kept the family affairs operating smoothly for so long.
Another man who held himself in high regard, and didn’t stop to consider who kept him safe and secure in his spot at the top. Another man who looked down on Billy, even though Bo - quite literally - owed her his life.
There was more than a handful of times when she’d saved him from an early grave at the hands of the family’s enemies. Knocking him out of the way of gunfire, or getting the drop on someone sneaking up on him on the streets, or spotting explosives underneath his vehicle when nobody else thought to look.
The attempts on his life had become so frequent that he now remained on the family compound near Deep Lake, not daring to set foot outside of it for fear of what might happen. That left Billy to run things on the streets, doing the work her brother - the ‘boss’ - was too afraid to come out and do himself.
She was sick of it.
Fortunately, it looked like she might get an outlet for that frustration soon enough. She was slated to fight one of the men who sat comfortably at the top, and left people like Billy to do all the real heavy lifting that kept them safe and secure.
Havoc.
But there would be time to ponder that later; for the time being, she attempts to refocus on the meeting taking place. She’d been letting herself daydream way too much, when she was supposed to be the muscle for her brother.
Scanning the assembled gangsters, she notices their eyes flinch away from making contact with hers; and the sight of that reaction is enough to bring a warm, genuine smile to her face.
Good.
Still got it.
====================
The scene opens to almost total darkness, the camcorder filming a small wooden shack - Billy’s personal quarters, slightly removed from the compound’s main residence - with the only light provided by a few small, flickering candles sitting around a floor that is almost entirely covered with clothes and other assorted items.
Somewhere in the shadows, Billy sits; her voice soon cuts through the blackness, her tone one of someone barely holding back pent-up anger. The frustration accompanying every word is almost a physical thing, felt through the video.
“Must be cursed or somethin’. My whole fuckin’ life, I been pickin’ up the slack for men who couldn’t get the job done on their own. Carryin’ all the weight, with no more than a pat on the back and a ‘good job, Billy, now get back to it’ for my troubles.”
“Bullshit.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I get plenty of joy outta doin’ my job. I ain’t even gonna try and lie to y’all ‘bout that part. And for a while, that was enough; just the blood and screamin’ and pure satisfaction that came with puttin’ in all that work.”
“But things change, y’know? Ya can only give a fightin’ dog the same ol’ treats for so long, before they start wantin’ more. And boy, ya better give it to ‘em; either that, or break ‘em so bad they ain’t gonna think ‘bout askin’ again.”
“Well, nobody ever broke Billy like they shoulda. Y’all had plenty of chances to do it, and nobody had the balls to get the job done. God knows I been askin’ for it; ya really think all that provocation and shit was an accident?”
“Naw, it wasn’t. For a while there, there was nothin’ in the world I wanted more than for someone to punish me, to put me in my place, to make me pay for all the shit I got away with in my life.”
“Mmm. Too bad none of y’all were up to the task.”
“‘Cause now, I’m gettin’ hungry.”
“Now, it’s too late to break my spirit. If it were ever fuckin’ possible in the first place.”
“I want more. I want Havoc. I’ve got my eyes set on ya, boy; and if ya been payin’ any attention, ya gotta know that don’t bode well for ya.”
“For a while, I was content lettin’ ya sit at the top, bein’ the lightning rod to draw the attention of all the Elenas and Jasons in the company, while I did the real fuckin’ work that kept Holt’s plans rollin’ along.”
“That’d be why I never bothered using that briefcase for your title, even though the thought did cross my mind once or twice. Ya were tolerable - barely - when all ya had was that Prime Championship to gloat about. But y’see, I know how ya are, so I can guess at how this whole Tyrant thing is gonna go.”
“Hard enough to deal with your ego before ya got a shiny, fancy new title to put in front of your name, and I ain’t gonna sit around and let your head get even bigger ‘cause of that shit. No fuckin’ way am I gonna let that happen, Havoc. Y’all are bound to get way too obnoxious if I do, even by my standards.”
“So, yeah, we ain’t doin’ all that. I ain’t gonna allow it. I’m gonna have to humble ya a bit, nothin’ personal ya understand, but it’s just... too fuckin’ much already, y’know?”
“...”
A long pause, with the only audible sound being Billy’s breathing in the dim candlelight... there’s some sort of movement in the shadows, as she runs her hands through her hair, like she were considering where to go from here.
“I can’t do it. I can’t lie to ya, Havoc. ‘Cause I respect what ya are - and everythin’ ya done in your career - I’m gonna be honest with ya. So here it is. The truth.”
“I think you’re fuckin’ pathetic.”
“And I don’t mean physically, or in the ring, or anythin’ like that. Hell, you’re one of the best there’s ever been, far as I can tell.”
“I mean personally. As a man. You’re nothin’.”
“All I hear from ya is big talk about remakin’ shit in your own image, rulin’ over the masses, leadin’ society to some new, better future. Lotta hot air, considerin’ all I ever seen ya do in this company is work your ass off to improve your own standin’, defend your own spot at the top, and try to keep everyone else under your thumb.”
“Hell, ya ain’t give me more than two words after I joined True Society... until we were in a match against each other, and ya were forced to acknowledge me. Y’see, Havoc, ya can stick your head in the sand all ya want, but that ain’t gonna make me disappear.”
“And now ya gotta face me straight-on, huh? Bet you’ll have a lot to say to Billy now. Funny how that works; suddenly I’m worth your attention, once ya realize I’m a threat to your position. Weird.”
“Did ya start to sweat a bit, watchin’ me climb the ranks, with no one able to touch me? Well, geez Havoc, I never meant to make ya nervous or uncomfortable.”
“But, hey, thanks for finally understanding that’s exactly what I am to ya. A threat, I mean. I’m comin’ for ya, and I’m gonna tear that gold outta your grip, even if I gotta kill ya to do it. And then, everyone ‘round here will have a reason to be afraid.”
Another pause, and some stifled chuckling, before she rushes out the next words.
“What, did you honestly believe these people on Fallout are scared of you?!” she obviously finds this thought amusing, as she throws her head back and cackles loudly in the small confines of her shack.
“Nope. Don’t kid yourself. They ain’t.”
“But Billy? Well, now there’s someone for all these fuckers to be afraid of... someone ready, willin, and just waitin’ to get their hands dirty. With me out there, nobody is safe, and they know it; even if they won’t ever say it, ‘cause they can’t handle how a li’l thing like me makes ‘em shake in their fuckin’ boots.”
“Go ahead, big man, it’s time to admit it. Ya been worryin’, huh? Knowin’ that I’m sittin’ in the shadows, able to take a shot at your belt whenever the fuck I feel like it.”
“Looks like I ain’t even gotta use that briefcase, now! They done delivered ya straight to me.”
“It’s a good thing I took the belt off that li’l red headed puppy, ain’t it? Otherwise she’d be walkin’ into the slaughterhouse, and ya’d have another easy victim to feed your ego with.”
“Instead, ya get me. The only motherfucker in this company who’s got a chance against ya when you’re at your best. Laugh it off, if that’s what ya gotta do to get to sleep, these last few nights as a champion... that’ll just make it sweeter, watchin’ it dawn on ya that I been lettin' ya keep that belt this whole time.”
“Not any more, though. It’s time to topple the tin-pot, two-bit dictatorship ya set up over this whole brand. I’m done bein’ looked down on by men who can’t handle their own business. Done bein’ a hired hand for people who ain’t capable of doin’ half the shit they expect me to do for ‘em.”
“Time to take what I deserve, boys. What I fuckin’ earned. Enjoy that belt while ya can, Havoc, ‘cause it’s time to move aside for Billy.”
====================
FEBRUARY 26TH, 2022
LOS ANGELES, CA
Billy had to wait for the outsiders to leave before she got the details she was too lost in thought to hear at the time. Her brother had been none too pleased that she was daydreaming during such an important meeting; particularly since she was his only protection in a room with eight armed men.
After a talking to that only ended when Bo caught sight of a dangerous gleam in Billy’s eyes, and decided he’d best leave the matter be, she got the full story out of him.
The job - it turned out - was a contract on a crew of stick-up artists who had been targeting dealers, stash houses and shipments belonging to the Bennetts’ business partners in the area. Sounded like they knew what they were doing; anyone who tried to stop them ended up in the hospital, if they were lucky.
Her brother had even tried to get her to bring along some extra help. One or two of her younger brothers, or a few of the more competent non-blood related soldiers on the family payroll. Even the suggestion was insulting to her; like he didn’t trust her to get the job done on her own, despite her track record of doing exactly that.
She told Bo she’d do it alone, or not at all; and he could deal with the fallout from promising something he couldn’t deliver on his own.
He caved, predictably. So Billy Bennett was sitting solo in a car borrowed from the same business partners she was here to do this job for; a Chevy Impala, the most popular car in California, with clean plates and no distinguishing features. It blended in perfectly to the street she was parked on, heavily tinted windows doing a fine job of disguising her features from any passerby.
All the information she was able to torture out of the few leads she had been provided with had pointed to a townhouse on this street, about a block away. She had some vague descriptions of the people responsible for all the trouble her family’s partners had been having; so she was parked, waiting for any sign of them... and had been for some time, in fact, sitting in this hot, stuffy car.
Billy was sweating, unwilling to roll down the windows to expose her features; and that wasn’t the only reason her skin was slick with sweat. Operating this far outside of the family territory never used to worry her, but that was back when she was blitzed out of her mind every waking moment.
Now, she was fully aware of the risk; this was the first real job she’d been given since getting sober. She had to be careful in Los Angeles. Cops in these parts weren’t well-known for their restraint in pursuing or apprehending suspects... and they sure as hell wouldn’t care that Billy’s last name was ‘Bennett’.
The family name held a lot of sway in Florida, and even places as far as Kentucky and Louisiana... but in California, while it might be recognized by some more in-the-know cops, it wouldn’t buy her any special treatment or favours.
If she got caught out here, she was on her own... aside from the folks back home picking up the tab for the best lawyer money could buy, and some of the family’s top shooters being on the lookout for testifying witnesses to deal with before the trial.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she adjusts the large sunglasses that cover her eyes, as well as the ‘Brandon Hendrix’ fitted cap pulled down over her unkempt hair. A deep sigh escapes her lips, as her eyes continue to move between the mirrors and windows of the vehicles, constantly scanning - even while deep in thought - for any approaching threats or signs of her targets.
She’d never done a proper stakeout without some stimulants to keep her occupied; without them, it was almost too boring. And it was only a matter of time before that boredom - a feeling relatively alien to someone used to keeping themselves entertained with powders and pills - made her slip.
Billy does something completely uncharacteristic; she drops her guard, eyes moving away from the constant circuit of mirror-window-mirror-window as she reaches behind her to pull a wallet from the back pocket of her jeans.
And from it, she pulls a strip of photographs, taken at one of those mall photo booth machines during her last outing with Savannah. As expected, the pictures contain a bunch of goofy faces from the pair of them, peace signs from Savannah and gang signs from Billy, but it’s the very last picture that she stares peacefully at.
Billy, red-faced and bashful, as her friend leans in to plant a kiss on her cheek.
She doesn’t get more than a second or two to enjoy the memory, before the sound of gunshots ring out on the street, and the driver’s side window explodes in a hail of glass; one of the shards cuts a long, horizontal slash across her left cheek.
Instinct kicks in, and she dives to the floor of the vehicle as bullets tear through the doors, mercifully missing her small, diminutive frame. She knows she won’t be that lucky for long, though, and as the tires are shot out of the vehicle to make escape impossible, she shimmies over to the passenger side door and opens it, dropping down onto the asphalt outside the car.
Before the impact of her shoulder against the road has even begun to dissipate, she pulls her sidearm - a Beretta 92FS - from the holster hanging around her shoulder, taking an extended 30 round magazine from her belt and inserting it into the weapon. Aiming the barrel of the gun at the legs of the men, visible in the distance as she looks underneath the body of the vehicle, she opens fire.
The adrenaline pumping in her veins serves to keep her mind on-task, as the daydreaming of seconds ago is forgotten entirely; only survival matters to her now... that, and making the people stupid enough to take a shot at her pay.
Her first shot misses, but that’s the only one that does; the second strikes one shooter in the kneecap, dropping him to the ground. The third goes into his head as he falls limps. The fourth is enough to shatter the ankle of the second man, who had turned to run away once he saw his partner laying dead beside him.
Peeking out from behind the shot-up Impala to confirm there’s no other gunmen waiting for her to poke her head out, Billy steps out from cover and calmly finishes the job with two more bullets to the second man's head.
For a moment, she considers going to check them for wallets, identification, anything that might point to their identity and affiliations... but then the ringing in her ears dies down just enough for her to hear the sirens. They’re close. Too close. They must have been in the neighbourhood already, maybe even just a block or two away.
Billy lunges back into her now-inoperable vehicle, grabbing his backpack and whatever items she had laying across the passenger seat before slamming the door and getting ready to take off running... until she hears a noise behind her, and wheels around to find a young kid - probably 13 or 14 - staring directly into her eyes. He sees her, Billy’s neck gaiter still hanging around her neck with face undisguised, for every detail to be seen.
She remembers one of the first lessons taught to her when she got into the family business:
‘No witnesses.’
As if on instinct, she lifts the pistol up and aims the end of the barrel at the young, quivering, wide-eyed little boy. Her entire arm shakes, unable to keep aim on the target, as those two words keep bouncing back and forth around her head.
She can’t do it. She’s a killer, but she’s not a monster. Anyone she had ever pulled the trigger on in the past had it coming; she’d just never realized - before now - that it made a difference to her.
Turns out it does. No way she's going to put a bullet in some innocent kid to protect her own identity.
“FUCK!”
Spitting that word out like it could somehow solve the quandary she finds herself in, Billy turns away from the youth and dashes towards the nearest alley. Every step that she takes away from the scene only seems to make the sirens grow louder; the police can’t be much further than 60 seconds - maybe 90 at most - from arriving.
Billy can’t remember the last time she ran so fast, or so desperately. She knows what would happen if she ended up behind bars, where she wouldn’t be given a fair chance to defend herself like she would on the streets.
The Bennett clan had made so many enemies since her brother took over, she wouldn’t last a week... and even that was being optimistic.
No, she had to escape, or this was the beginning of her last chapter. She couldn’t go out like that; not now.
So she kept running, until she couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. Until her breath ran ragged and harsh, every inhalation of oxygen into her lungs bringing with it a sharp, stabbing pain. Until she’d left the neighbourhood of Watts behind her entirely, crossing over into Lynwood and halfway on towards Hollydale.
At some point - when she was certain she wasn’t being followed by someone else planning on putting a bullet in her head - she paused to wipe down her pistol with the sleeve of her hoodie, before dumping it down a storm drain. If she was going to get caught, it’d be best that she wasn’t carrying a weapon that could be tied to the murders she’d just committed back in Watts.
She would’ve kept going forever - all the way out of the city, at the very least - if her legs didn’t finally fail her. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving her jittery and drained, but she still ran... until she failed to plant her foot properly at the end of a stride, rolling her ankle and collapsing forward onto the pavement; scraping the skin of one cheek across the rough surface as she fell.
It hit her then, and only then, how scared she was. Like never before, and it wasn’t just the absence of opiates soothing her jangled nerves that left her worrying about her fate.
Something had changed.
Now she had something - or someone, in this case - to live for.
No matter how things turned out with Savannah, just getting so close to someone like her - and seeing her willing to make friends with someone like Billy - filled her with a hope she’d never felt before.
That maybe there could - someday, somewhere, somehow - be a happy ending for Billy Bennett.
There was the slightest inkling of hope, where there was none before.
And as pushes her face off the pavement and takes a seated position on the sidewalk, leaning back against a chain-link fence and staring up at the afternoon sky above, she realizes why she had worked so hard to keep her emotions at bay since childhood.
She was afraid. Afraid of losing that little bit of hope that had been forced into her life.
“...goddamnit...” she mumbles to herself, as she ponders this turn of events; and whether she would want to go back to the cold, unfeeling, drugged-out killer she was just a month ago.
It’s a moot point regardless; some things can’t be undone... and now that the Pandora’s box of emotions inside Billy Bennett had been opened, no amount of narcotics or irrational, blind, aimless violence could possibly force it closed again.
She’d just have to learn to live with it... Billy just wasn’t sure what that looked like yet.
But she was a quick learner. She’d figure it out.
She had to.
====================
FEBRUARY 27th, 2022
SALTON SEA, CA
The first light of the day is reflected on the saline water of the Salton Sea, as the cold, quiet darkness of the night finally gives way to a new morning.
Sitting on a large salt deposit near the shore of the sea is Billy Bennett; on another rock-like deposit in front of her sits the familiar old camcorder she uses whenever she has to record something for Project: Honor.
Despite the fact that it’s recording her, she doesn’t talk about her upcoming match, or the state of the company; she’s not even giving one of her usual unhinged, irrelevant rants. The camera simply records her sitting in silence, head down as long, unwashed hair dangles low to the ground.
Both her arms rest on her knees, hands hanging limply between her legs... and clutched in both of them is the barbed wire crown she’d won in the Throne of Blood match, against her fellow members of True Society.
She’s gripping it so tight that the barbs have driven into her flesh, blood slowly trickling down her palms to drip onto the ground below. Despite the pain this is surely causing, she doesn’t even appear to notice, her knuckles white as she holds onto the object for dear life.
Who knows how long she’d been there? Hours, at least. The camera had been recording for close to a full 60 minutes already, capturing nothing but silent brooding from the young woman.
It wasn’t the first near-death experience in her life. Far from it. That count had reached double digits a long, long time ago; she’d been on the business end of guns, knives and explosives so often, that they never really seemed to elicit the same reaction in her these days.
Until now.
Until she had something in her life she didn’t want to say goodbye to.
Until she had something resembling a purpose for the first time in her life; or at least one that extended beyond ‘getting shit done for the family’.
Sobriety had really done a number on her, too; she was seeing everything in her life from a different angle, like the perspective had shifted the moment the drugs - and the withdrawal that accompanied their absence - had left her system. Her mind was traveling down paths that had been closed off for over a decade, and the thoughts and realizations she found in those dark, unexplored recesses of her mind has begun to change her entire worldview.
She was no longer satisfied with being an attack dog for the men who gave her orders. No longer happy with her only reward being a new hunt, or a bloodbath of fists or bullets, or a fresh body to play with.
Why should they get to reap the rewards for all her hard work?
And it wasn’t just Savannah Andrews that had her wanting to stick around this mortal coil; she wasn’t going to delude herself into thinking that something like that was serious... or bound to last long.
But it had done something that Billy would have sworn was impossible before she met her new companion. Their friendship had shown the hardened killer and drug addict that she could find pleasure, fulfillment, and joy in things that didn’t end with bloody hands and possible criminal charges.
She could just be a human being, for the sake of doing so. It was possible despite her upbringing, despite all her choices up to this point in her life. If someone as pure and decent as Savannah could see some good in her, then it had to be possible for her to turn everything around...
Not that she intended on doing so. Old habits die hard, and all that.
Finally, she opens her mouth to speak. There’s none of the frustration or righteous fury there was during the last recording; her voice is almost vaguely regretful, even approaching sadness. Like she was mourning something unspoken, and unknown to the viewer.
“What’s the worst ya can do to me, I wonder? Kill me, like ya keep threatenin’? Fuck it, give it a shot, I ain’t too attached to breathin’.”
She’s lying through her teeth, though someone as experienced at telling lies as Billy Bennett is able to disguise it well enough.
But deep down, under those layers of smug, self-assured cockiness, is a fear that had never existed before. She wanted to live, to keep going, to see how things might turn out now that she had the faintest glimmer of hope in her life.
Nevertheless, she carries on, pushing through the nagging thoughts in the back of her mind that tell her 'none of this is worth it'. Because after all, she doesn’t want to tear Havoc down off the mountain-top just for herself; no, it’s for everyone in the company, although she doesn’t expect anyone would ever believe her motives were so pure and charitable.
A place like Fallout that celebrates chaos, one that understands and embraces the worst parts of humanity, doesn’t need a ruler trying to enforce order. Better to let chaos thrive where it was meant to, without attempting to impose some false rule of law upon it.
“I stopped ya from gettin’ one crown... and ya got lucky with that second one; lucky that I was too busy helpin’ win Wargames - y’know, the main event - to take part in some midcard battle royal with a buncha no-names. Woulda stopped ya from gettin' that crown too, ya can fuckin’ believe that.”
“I was even decent enough to let ya keep that belt, instead of goin’ wild and coming out to take your gold too, after ya were all worn out fightin’ the likes of...” she actually pauses to snicker before speaking the next names, “...Brandon Hendrix and Michael Bishop. Yea, real tough competition, no doubt.”
“'Nah, I’ll let him keep it,' I figured. Hell, so much of your identity is wrapped up around that fucking Prime Championship that it seemed cruel to snatch it from ya, y’know?”
“Guess fate had different plans, though. Turns out I’ll be taking that belt, after all.”
“Just the way things go, Havoc.”
“I can’t afford to go easy on ya. I ain’t no fuckin’ fool. I know ya got where ya are with overwhelmin’ power and the instincts of a killer. I been in some tight spots, but I ain’t never squared up with your like before. One on one, I mean. No guns, no knives.”
“Fuck, I can’t wait. Been itchin’ for a fight like this since I joined Project: Honor.”
“Lemme tell ya... for a while there, I regretted joinin’ up with y’all in True Society.”
“I came here to hunt big game, and it didn’t take me long to realize all the real worthwhile targets were in True Society... with me. Where I couldn’t properly get to ‘em, not without betrayin’ the boss.”
“So I sat. And I waited. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone started to turn us against each other. No way Holt could keep shit locked down forever.”
“And I was right. Seems like I’m right an awful lot, don’t it? Almost like I’m a damn sight smarter than any one of y’all struttin’ around this company, actin’ all high and mighty.”
“I finally got the chance I been dreamin’ of. Li’l ol’ me, in the ring with the apex predator himself. And I don’t mean some clusterfuck with a buncha other folk to mess with our good time.”
“The Throne of Blood was just the beginnin’, a nice warm-up, an appetizer, whatever ya wanna call it.”
“Ain’t gonna be no help for ya in this one. You and me. Nowhere for Billy to play dead and hide to finesse a victory; I ain’t gonna be able to slither my way outta this, and ya ain’t gonna have Syndicate and Angelo there to beat on me with ya.”
“Even footin’... no tricks, no bullshit.”
“So let’s see who deserves the gold; and we’ll have to trust that whoever loses is a big enough man to shut their fuckin’ mouths, and start showin’ some respect.”
“I just don’t want there to be any misunderstandings here. Y’see, I ain’t doin’ this to take your spot for myself, Havoc. I ain’t lookin’ to replace ya as some self-styled, puffed-up ‘ruler’ of Fallout. Naw, Fallout don’t need a Queen. Don’t need a King. Don’t need Gods, or Demons, or Heroes, or nothin’ like that.”
“‘Cause the last thing we need ‘round these parts is someone with delusions of grandeur tryin’ to play at bein’ above anyone - or anythin' - else.”
“Seems like nobody is brave enough to do what needs to be done. So it’s down to Billy, one more time.”
“I’ll kill the King.”
“Ya once told me to know my place. Well, now I do. It’s above ya, lookin’ down, watchin’ ya choke on your own blood as I twist my bootheel on your fuckin’ neck.”
“Every step ya took to get where ya are today... every sacrifice ya made... everythin’ ya threw away just to seek power and status for yourself... all for nothin’.”
“Pointless. A waste of your time. All that blood, all that effort, it don’t mean shit to me.”
“Everything’ ya built for yourself here? Get ready to say goodbye to it, Havoc.”
“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”
“Death. To. Tyrants.”
With those final words, it’s like some tension is released from deep inside Billy Bennett, as her death grip on the barbed wire crown suddenly slackens. The metal object falls out of her hands, to land unceremoniously on the ground, forgotten the moment it leaves her grasp.
For the first time since hitting record on the camcorder, she looks up from the spot near her boots she’d been staring at. She looks at the sunrise, her eyes squinting against the bright light of a new day, staring directly into it... like she could possibly find some guidance in that celestial body.
Where does she go from here, she wonders to herself.
But there’s no time to dwell on that.
What happens in the ring with Havoc will have more impact on the way her life unfolds than any amount of thinking she could get done out here. The only answers will come through blood and pain, just like they always have.
That ambush... was it just the start of the karmic backlash she’d been thumbing her nose at her entire life?
Billy had coasted through deadly situations and violent encounters for years with a smile on her face, laughing in the face of the reaper.
Was it finally going to catch up with her? Now that she finally had some reason to survive? Seemed like one hell of a cruel joke for fate to play on her, but she had grown used to those a long time ago.
What was one more?
With a heavy sigh, she hops off the salt deposit she’d been sitting off, her boots stomping on the ground - a 'beach' covered with crushed barnacles and fish bones that crunch under her feet - as she strides towards the camcorder to end the recording.
====================
