The Paper Knight and The Killing Tree

by Thrashing-Light

All the trinkets and tracks led into the Killing Tree. Well, trailed into the gate. Steve's whole body was about to shut down because the two least likely people to even be together in the same room, were trapped together in the Upside-Down: Erica Sinclair and Billy Hargrove. And it was all his fault. A story of unexpected friendships and expected hardships. Eventual Harringrove.

6. A Surging Storm

The Paper Knight and The Killing Tree

Chapter Six: A Surging Storm

Billy groggily came to in a bed, and his right hand hit the side rail of the bed frame. Did score an easy lay from Tonya's and crash at her place? No, her bed frame only had rails on the top and bottom (which came in handy).

The sour, stank taste of vomit fuzzed in his mouth. He threw up? He NEVER did that.

What day was it? Did he have school? Neil was gonna kick his ASS if he overslept because he was hungover…he moved his leg and he still had his boots on. His left was all gunky. This made no sense, he always took his boots to not wake Neil up. Also respect…except Neil was monster chow now so…

Oh.

OH fuck.

That's right. Bat Country. The fight. Vivian Sinclair. The Ketamine.

Did Harrington…overdose him?

He was getting soft. This was all just TOO fucking TYPICAL. Again?!

FUCK SPECIAL K. What a loser drug. He didn't even know you could OD on it!

Billy scrunched his face up, remembering everything that led up to it. Chief Custard, he had to get away from THAT guy.

Billy didn't move a muscle, and did what he was good at, listen for anything in the room.

Dead silence. Should he chance it? Fuck it.

He chanced a peek. Harrington was passed the fuck out in some chair. He looked like shit warmed over, hair stuck up on one side all nappy and dark rings under his eyes. His neck was also at a cranked out angle in his chair. He was definitely gonna have a crick in it.

Karma. Fuck him.

He slowly sat up, head still woozy but he had to power through it. His trusty knife lay innocently on a nearby table. Billy fought a lingering bout of nausea, and debated picking it up. This screamed trap, like one of those psychological games.

Silent as the grave, he moved his arm and grabbed the knife in a reverse stance, waiting for an ambush.

Nothing.

Steve didn't so much as breathe. No one came to the door.

Billy caught his reflection in the steel. It was cleaned and sharpened. Billy didn't fucking question who sharpened it or where they found a damn whetstone in a hospital of all places. He DID question why it was THERE…didn't they mention cuffing him and leaving him high and dry?

Yeah. This was kinda the opposite of that.

Was leaving him uncuffed with the knife on the table some sort of gesture of trust? What WHACK JOBS.

He could gut Harrington wide open like Jerry's favorite fish dish and leave this room like the Shining bloodbath before anyone would be the wiser.

But he wasn't that much of a psycho.

His stomach gurgled. STARVING.

Time to light out and find some grub. Maybe some liquor too. Feeling Tequila. He needed something after falling into the K Hole, the fun term for overdose. He'd never shot up Ketamine, but his Maman and Ant had plenty.

If this backwater hospital was where he thought it was in this landfill they labeled a town, there was a supermarket nearby. Next to it was that liquor store he'd occasionally bribe the clerk for bottles of whatever was cheap and strong.

He looked over at Harrington. He was KO'd, but had some old rope in his lap. It was expertly tied in some sort of intricate knot.

Kinky. Didn't take 'Mister Shining Knight' for the type.

Billy couldn't really remember much about what Steve told him before he drugged him, but he did remember calling him dangerous and irresponsible. Shit Neil'd say. So… chances of him finding out if he liked that kinda bondage shit in the bedroom were pretty SLIM.

Ugh fuck all this PSYCHOLOGICAL horsepiss.

He looked down at Harrington's shoes, one was untied. Who ties ropes into knots like this and leaves their own shoes untied? This is why he needed St. Michael…Oh. This would be fun. He would get his crew all the time with this joke whenever one would pass out with their shoes on.

He tied his shoelaces together.

Haha, catch me if you can, you pretty, preppy little shit.

He groggily made it to the window. Using all his upper body strength he gradually and quietly eased it open just enough for him to slither out.

Parkour time.

Oh, second story. A damn cake walk. He carefully maneuvered his body around and slowly did a negative pull up, easing his body down until he finally dropped. He landed in a perfect squat and fluidly somersaulted back. He looked up and dusted off his hands. He didn't hear anything.

Bayani would be SO proud.

Baya. That's RIGHT. Right before he fell into the K hole, he talked to Baya.

His Kuya (older brother) was coming for him.

Some fuck-all time ago

---

Billy was heavily denting the ambulance door in with his boot when Vivian Sinclair approached him like she knew him.

She had her hands on her hips and the same look on her face like his Maman made when she found out he skipped school again.

"Yeah. WHAT? Primed for a lecture? For the record, I'm not apologizing for anything Neil Hargrove has done." Just what he needed, someone else pissed at him for something way outside his scope of control. His hands itched for a cigarette but he had to save his for the Kingpin.

"No lecture, and no child should apologize for their parent's actions. I don't buy the 'Sins of the father' Nonsense." Vivian Sinclair's voice sounded firm, but didn't angle for anything more. BUENO.

Billy snorted. He was NO saint either, but his sins were his OWN.

"Here, looks like you needed them more than Chief Hopper." Thank the lord Vivian Sinclair handed him three hand rolled smokes. He hadn't had hand-rolled since Sang Hoon's 19th birthday party. He'd be twenty now.

He tentatively reached for them, there had to be a catch. He snagged them quick, and she didn't say a thing, just leaned against the side of the ambulance.

'Snick'

He lit the cigarette and ever so carefully inhaled.

"You must have quick hands to lift those off Chief smokestack. And moxie, stealing from the law." Billy smirked wagging a finger.

Oh DIOS MIOS YES…he needed this after Steve just trampled the stupid flicker of hope that MAYBE there was the slightest SHOT Steve might not be as straight as he acted. The heat of Steve's gaze could have incinerated him. There was no mistake, Billy Loga knew of the sparking electricity of being checked out. But he guessed he wanted it TOO much. Another Loga fuck up, he imagined shit where it DIDN'T exist.

"My sister taught me a few things. You remind me of her. Headstrong. Smart. Too smart. Angry." That caught him by surprise. She had to be talking about Marion.

"I ain't got a lot to be happy about, and sad never helped anyone. And I don't have the luxury to be soft and NICE." Billy exhaled smoke again slowly, making sure he didn't make a flamethrower out of his face.

"It's a damn shame." She said simply. Yeah fucking is.

Minutes ticked by in silence.

"You remind me of my Maman. No nonsense, good style, strong. Too strong." Billy admitted, looking at her. She was no typical housewife to come here, Susan couldn't handle balancing a damn checkbook.

"Maman? French?" Eh, he slipped up, but fuck it.

"She was French. We spoke it in-house. My Memere and Perere had her in Paris, and moved to LA after World War Two. They thought they'd have an easier go of it in America. They thought wrong." Billy inhaled deep, almost coughing on the strong tobacco. Shì de (yes)! This shit it the SPOT. In another universe he'd tell Sheriff Hop and Scotch he was a damn tobacco artist.

"That sort of move is NOT easy." She admitted and Billy nodded, staring off into the distance.

"Nope. My Memere's family hated my Pepere. He was a Berber from Mauritania, Africa. She was Parisian, and as white as my hair is curly. A real 'lady and the tramp' movie special. Add THAT up." Billy didn't really intend on telling Vivian Sinclair about any of this, but he rolled with it. He hadn't talked them in ages. Felt good.

"Your mother couldn't have had it easy in LA being half black and French. Or you." Vivian Sinclair was actually listening to him. Little Hicks hit definitely got this from her mom.

"I pass white easy. My Maman didn't as much. But, most morons just assumed she was Mexicana, or just sported a true California sunblessing. She did great until she slipped up and slept with some prick soldier and didn't use a rubber. She slipped up again when she made the same mistake her parents made, and didn't get a coat hanger when the piss test turned out positive." Billy scrunched his nose.

Pause

"You saying your mother wasn't a good mother?" Vivian Sinclair asked and he saw red.

"Fuck NO." Billy snarled. "Letty Loga should have won a damn medal of honor. When she could and was healthy, she could out-cook anyone in South Central with nothing but eggs and potatoes. She made sure I had something to open on my birthday, clothes that fit, a roof over my head, and a brain in my head. She also taught me to dance. She was gonna be a real dancer, not like what she ended up settling for." Billy spat, eyes blazing but Vivian Sinclair had that look on her face like he fell into some trap.

"I doubt your mother would want you to think of yourself as her biggest mistake. I don't gamble much, but if I remind you of her, then she must have been quite proud of you." Vivian Sinclair fucking smirked at him.

He took another long drag. Too tired to fight her on this.

"Maybe you're right. The last thing she said to me was when she got home she was gonna cook my favorite breakfast just for doing well in a basketball game." Billy waited for the inevitable question of 'what happened to her?'

"What was it? Your favorite breakfast?" Ok he wasn't expecting that.

"Omelette aux pommes de terre, with REAL cheddar, not that fake processed plastic. Spam too. But some jackoff named Miguel Santiago sold my mother and some John BAD dope. Instant overdose for her and the John. Both dead as four o'clock. He killed himself in jail before he was locked up for good. Lâche, Coward." Billy couldn't tell anyone why he told Vivian Sinclair all of this. Maybe 'cause she was just listening.

"And then you were forced to stay with that… rabid, MADMAN Neil Hargrove?" Vivian Sinclair's took a smokey, dark edge like tinted glass. Billy shook his head negative.

"No. My birth certificate got 'lost in the system'." Billy heavily air quoted that because guardian angel detective Maya Freeman pulled some strings. "I stayed with my godmother, a detective believe it or not, Maya Freeman, for one and a half years before her lifeline went flat too. Gunned down with her partner by some Russian coke slingers in a revenge hit. He lived, but his legs didn't." Billy didn't believe in curses. He wasn't cursed. He just was wrong and wanted things he didn't deserve. He felt things he shouldn't feel towards people he dragged down with him.

"My Maman may have been proud of me, Maya may have loved me like her own, but Billy Loga breaks things. Always have, always will." Billy took one last long drag and exhaled slow and deep.

Maman.

Maya.

Antoine.

Steve just might be next on the list. Maybe Erica.

"You've had a hard life Billy, don't make it harder for yourself. If it means anything from a college drop-out nurse who moved to the middle of nowhere chasing a man…you're not blame. What happened isn't your fault. Pardon my French, but shit happens." Vivian Sinclair was being far too nice. It confused him because he didn't think she was this kind of person. Nice to be nice.

"Shit happens every DAMN Day. Just look where you, Erica, and I are stuck and who we are stuck with. We're stuck in an ass backwards bat country with a junkie cop, and don't question me, I know junkies when I see'em, some creepy preteen, a cabbage patch geek, and his pissy majesty, King Steve himself. If we aren't neck deep in shit, then I don't want to know how much deeper we have to sink to get there." Billy snorted and he got a slight smile and a nod from Vivian Sinclair. Good she had a sense of humor. She'd need it.

"I'd say we're close. My sister went through hell in Oakland, and she spent some time in Haiti as a result and learned French. She taught me some. It was a nice thing you did, giving Steven your necklace to protect him." The FUCK she SAY?! Billy's back stiffened. The way his shirt was all knotted up, his hair, and her being ANY sort of SMART meant she had to know not only was he a faggot, but also had it BAD for Steve.

Steve might know he was gay as Fabergé too. If those signs were in this backwards Hawkins, and Steve stole his necklace from the crime scene, it meant that Steve saw the sign too. It was up to Steve to believe that sign Neil wrote, or the carefully crafted 'straight as an arrow' mask he wore in Hawkins.

But even if Steve believed he was gay, he DEFINITELY wouldn't know he wanted to fuck him boneless. He was sort of oblivious in that way straight guys always were when gays hit on them.

UNLESS Vivian Sinclair wanted to tip him off.

'She told me it was a bad word like nigger, and it meant when a boy like liked only boys and that it was the way it just was.' Erica said her mother didn't have a problem with gays.

Billy swallowed cautiously.

"He needs it. He's too soft, too nice, and doesn't have the taste for a REAL fight like I do. He somehow got himself cut up already for fucks sake." Billy didn't look down on Steve for those things, they just lived totally different lives. Like that terrible song by Journey: just a small town boy, city boy born and raised in South Central.

"He got himself cut up by going under the police truck, fixing it so it could start. He saved us. He's more savvy than you give him credit for." That caused Billy to pause. So, Steve knew shit about cars. That was useful, and HOT.

But she was missing a bigger point. The Kingpin told him it wanted Steve DEAD. Specifically Steve.

The Kingpin's fight was with him, and him ALONE; just like he told him and Steve. Billy'd get his revenge. He'd take the fight to his doorstep SOLO if he had to.

He'd ring the Kingpin's fucking bell so hard he'll deafen this wasteland and Hawkins.

"Case in point. A knight needs his shining armor, right? That's Steve's shtick, hero saving the day, NOT mine." Billy abruptly opened the dented to hell door and pulled out the box he had stored there.

It was time for some defense.

"Shtick, hmmm? So if you think he is trying to be the hero, who are you?" Vivian asked eyeing the tanks filled with gasoline he siphoned from the ambulance along with rags he made from scrubs he found.

"I'm the hellion." Billy grinned thinly. "Back in South Central, my six family members and I ALL had our part to play. Mine was to scout shit out and start fires that needed starting. See, this Poltergeist is biding its time for some plan just like any other gangbanger planning a revenge hit in South Central. I'm not about sit pretty and wait." Billy locked eyes with Vivian Sinclair. He didn't know her well, but he had a feeling she would let him do his thing.

He had originally planned to just bolt out and find the Poltergeist, but he came to him and defense he could do.

He took the gas can and the extra scrubs he found and doused them all, and made a semi-circle around the hospital ER driveway. He looked back to see Vivian Sinclair actually helping him out. Someone in this hickshit town actually wasn't giving him the third fucking degree.

"…Merci, Madame Sinclair." He couldn't remember the last time he thanked someone and meant it. She was being real cool about all of this. Man, would his Maman, Maya, and Mrs. Sinclair get along. They'd probably all sit around drinking cheap wine and playing canasta, listening to Earth, Wind and Fire.

"D'accord. Call me Vivian. Saves time." Her accent wasn't half bad.

"Très bien." Vivian it was.

Pause.

"Erica says that you can speak to the ghost. That it only speaks to you in Korean. I could tell she was telling the truth. I can usually tell when she lies, even when she covers for Marion." Vivian's tone held no judgment, almost like…curiosity.

"I'm good at languages, speak five of 'em: French, Spanish, Mandarin, Korean, and Tagalog. Don't ask why I can, it just STICKS in there." Billy pointed to his temple. "Comes in handy a lot though."

"What was the Poltergeist saying to you?" Oh… that's what she really wanted to know. He wasn't about to sugar coat this medicine.

"It thinks Erica and I belong to it. I think it sees us as some sort of…modern day human sacrifice. He's acting like he's the god in a Mayan or Vodou ritual. I guess The Killing Tree is its sick altar and Erica, and I are some sort of tribute to it. Camaztoz, a Mayan bat god of sacrifice, my brother Javier told me about, would be right at fucking home here." Billy didn't really give too much of a shit what a ghost thought because it was dead wrong. Also, he wasn't Javier, who still lit Votive Candles and prayed to fake spirits.

"My baby belongs to NO ONE especially—" Vivian was cut off by a high pitched chirp and a dark shadow moving through the branches of the trees.

He hadn't counted on something flying. With it being this dark and murky they wouldn't know what hit them until it was too late.

Sitting fucking ducks for literal bat country. Xièxiè Hunter H. Thompson.

"I sure hope you know how to use that shotgun, cuz I'm about to flush out our prey. Hunting Season." He wasn't afraid of anything this pussy poltergeist was about to send his way. He'd CHOMP the head off these bats JUST like Ozzy Osborne in Black Sabbath.

They needed light, fire, and to disrupt whatever shitstorm was about to PISS down onto them.

With a flick of a lighter he lit the scrubs he spread out, but it still wasn't enough light. It did look pretty bitchin' though. A ring of fire.

"This shotgun isn't for show, and neither am I." Vivian replied. Good, she didn't need to be Annie Oakley, she just needed a damn SPINE. In record time he went back to Plan A. Fuck defense, time for some offense. He strode back across the street to the ambulance and sparked the black and red ignition wires to life to start the engine.

Those rats with wings were sure as hell gonna hate what he was about to do. Pop those cherries!

"OK, wait for my signal, then it's open season." He flipped on the siren and lights, and the whole road pulsed and glowed up white then red. He could see the bats with a wingspan as big as he was tall tucked all in the trees screeching and flapping like frightened virgins on prom night.

But that's not all folks.

The chirps and rustling got louder as he quickly double backed to the gas tank of the ambulance and with a snick of a lighter he lit the scrubs he has stuffed down the fuel line. He hadn't siphoned all the gas out of the ambulance, these big fuckers could hold a lot.

"Billy, you better NOT be doing what I'm thinking you're doing." Vivian warned, but he was far too AMPED to really care. This was gonna be SO brutally SATISFYING to bring the fight to the Kingpin this time.

The sweet wine of revenge danced on the tip of his tongue as he got back behind the wheel of the ambulance, put the fat girl in drive, and floored it.

"Special Delivery, served HOT for you scared little VIRGINS! Gaja (let's go)!" Billy knew he must look like a kid on Christmas morning when the ambulance picked up just enough speed for him to bail out the driver's side door and launch into the woods. He tucked into a roll just in time to cover his head as the ambulance hit the first tree, siren wailing. Fire erupted up the rear of the ambulance and Billy quickly scrambled back across the street.

In the movies, they would have normal cars explode all dramatic like a BOMB, but that's not what usually happened. Cars rarely explode if you torch them. He knew.

NOW. If that car had four oxygen tanks in the back, just like he with what he loaded into the ambulance…THAT will get you some fireworks.

Tois, deux, un.

A fiery explosion rocked the woods like a metal concert. The force flung Billy back across the rest of the street, knocking the wind out of him a bit. Billy grinned from ear to ear.

RISE AND SHINE!

His ears rang a bit as he heard blasts from the shotgun and shouts.

Oh yeah, that most definitely woke up Erica and the others.

A bat the size of a buzzard dropped DEAD next to him. He could see where Little Hickshit got her dead-shot talent from.

"BILLY! What did you actually do?!" Steve was in his face pulling him off the street by his jacket like he wanted to slap him again.

He didn't expect Steve to understand, but Billy was a bit taken aback that he looked so damn pissed off. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Steve looked at him the way Neil would.

"Doing what I do best, taking the fight to them. Do what you do best, plant your feet, and play some D." Billy frowned deep and pushed Steve off. He stalked out, knife in hand, able to see them well enough to jump and intercept one of the bats diving at Erica. He slashed down where the wing hit its slimy neck and jerked it down, slicing the wing clear off. Blood and goop splattered everywhere as the bat flopped and cried on the asphalt. He stomped on its neck a few times to silence it. Malahay (gross).

"GET OFF ME!" bat the size of hang-glider swooped down at Vivian Sinclair. It knocked the shotgun from her hands and picked her up just like in those B-rated monster movies.

Hell No. He was NOT going to let Erica's mom get killed just like both of his other mothers because of him.

The chief fired his gun at the giant bat and it shrieked and flew lower. That other creepy girl was busy pulling others out of the air and flinging them to the ground.

"Mama!" Erica ran towards it with her hammer and flashlight. No, he was not going to allow her to show her power and get her stalked for LIFE like Bayani.

He spotted the shotgun, but he promised his Maman long ago he'd never use one. Plus the shot was too risky with how herky jerky Camaztoz was flying.

"ERICA! I GOT THIS!" Billy yelled, looked like he'd have to show his party trick sooner than he thought.

He got out his lighter, and one of Chief Queef's roll ups, and quickly lit it.

He hoped that he was right and that the fire would burn only the Camaztoz. The smoke didn't hurt his or Little Hickshit's lungs inside the hospital and where there's smoke…

There's FIRE.

He broke into a full sprint and shielded the lit cigarette from the wind. He inhaled and cigarette cherry flared up nice and orange.

"HEY YOU UGLY FUCK, TURN AND SMILE FOR THE CAMERA!" Billy inhaled, almost ashing the whole roll up and filled his lungs with acrid smoke.

A crack of a revolver and the bat flew even lower. Vivian's legs now dangled just over the pavement near the cars; she was fighting hard.

He exhaled harder.

A blazing inferno erupted out of his mouth like Mount St Helens. El Camazotz screamed and dropped Vivian to the ground. She looked fine but he couldn't let 'chicken little' get away just to come back and get an easier target like Cabbage Patch.

Oh SATAN, he'd never hear the end of it from Steve if he let Cabbage get eaten. He tossed the completely ashed cigarette and drew his knife.

Billy saw to his left Steve's precious BMW. He leapt onto the hood, next roof, then vaulted onto the back still burning Camazotz. He grappled the back half of it, right behind the wings with his left arm.

"Rodeo time, Amigo!" Billy's facial expression was all feral glee as he raised his knife and started going to the town on it. as it tried to throw him off mid-air. Looking back, he knew he must look COMPLETELY fucking psycho.

So what if he WAS? Psycho got results. Psycho was what he KNEW. It was fun.

Camazotz's right wing finally faltered and he continued to strike. They hit the pavement with a smack, and flipped a few times. Billy winced as he struck the ground at an awkward angle, but still continued slashing and stabbing at anything he could. Wing. Neck. Head. Claw.

"Heyyyaaah!" He knew Erica's battle cry from anywhere and he saw in his periphery that she had started smacking Camazotz's back with her hammer. Good job, she waited just like he wanted her to.

"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT, KINGPIN?!" Billy shouted as the Chief entered his vision and double-tapped it in the back of its head with his revolver. OK he had to give Chief Ding Dong credit for that one, that's something Maya would have done.

Pause.

"Jane are you OK? Dustin?! Everyone?" He hollered and got a chorus of 'yeses'. Billy stood up and noticed he was actually pretty banged up, but didn't matter because he didn't hear any more shrieking or flapping so they won!

Ha! He did it! He beat the Kingpin before he could put out that revenge hit on Steve!

"Where did those creatures come from? The Upside Down has gargoyles now?!" Cabbage yelled out, next to Steve. Steve was holding his right shoulder, but looked ok. Billy looked back to Vivian Sinclair and while she looked shaken, she kicked a piece of Camatzoz aside. Maybe she was a bit scratched up, but it was nothing the hospital couldn't fix.

The hairs on Billy's neck stood on end. Everyone was staring at him, well everyone except Erica who had scurried back to her mom.

Oh yeah. The FIRE breathing.

"And Steve, Billy can breathe fire?! He's literally a DEMON. He enjoyed mutilating that Gargoyle, Steve! Hey, you! YOU'RE A PSYCHO!" Does Cabbage Patch ever shut up? He was pointing at him like he was the bad guy.

Billy just rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

Steve wouldn't side with Cabbage on this, he got RESULTS. They got the W, the win.

"He's not a Demon, you loud-mouth. He's He-Man and he saved my mom!" Erica shot back. Something unexpected softened in his chest, he hadn't expected Little Hickshit to defend him in front of everyone. Billy couldn't remember the last time someone vouched for him.

"It doesn't count if he's the reason she's in danger in the FIRST PLACE!" Cabbage patch waggled his sling shot. Billy balked and blanched.

That wasn't all the way true, he never asked for any of them to STAY.

"The Poltergeist is why we're in danger, you pendejo!" Erica cursed, and pronounced it right!

"Erica Diana Sinclair we talked about using that word. If anyone is to blame for any of this, it's Neil Hargrove. Now, we are going back inside the hospital to rest." Vivian still sounded shaky, but she picked up her own shotgun no problem.

Sins of the father. Yeah, this was on Neil. Billy willed himself to believe it.

The Chief approached him, gait strident like Neil's.

"Son, I fought in Vietnam." Oh great another Vietnam war lecture from Chief Second-Helping. "Napalm and bombs and going off on your own isn't the answer. We need to work together as a team. When you act on your own, You're a hazard. How did this even happen?" Chief Hooch gestured to all of him like he was a walking problem.

"Loga has a power too, like sister and I. But, fire destroys." Now that freaky one with her creepy bloody nose even glared mean at him. Before she just sort of eyed him all confused like she was studying a 3d eye puzzle.

The Chief, creepy Carrie, and Cabbage patch all angled and scowled at him like he was the one that attacked Vivian. El Lobo Feroz.

Lo que sea (whatever).

"Thanks for the history lesson and team bonding chat, sheriff. Oh, Impromptu PSA, fire safety lesson: stop, drop, and rock and roll." He flashed the rock and roll sign. "But like I told you before, I'm NOT waiting for the Kingpin to coordinate his bangers for a hit. Strike before you're struck. Eat or get eaten. That's how this works, it shouldn't be THAT hard even for you bumpkins to get." Billy hissed back. Why couldn't they see things his way? Or listen!

"That's NOT what you were doing, that if that was what you doing, you would have woken us up. Instead, you went ROGUE. You got some sort of death wish son, and I am not letting you bring US down with you. We're cuffing you and putting you in the back of the truck till this blows over." He reached for his cuffs and Billy froze. An old, dormant fear crept in his head like a centipede.

"That ghost is after him, Chief Hopper." Billy wondered if Vivian called him 'Chief' because she was brought up to fear cops or respect them. "We can't put him in that truck if it can pick them up and eat them." Vivian Sinclair retorted and Billy's pupils shrunk to pinpricks and he took a step back. He was surrounded.

A flash of blue and red lights. Four cops surrounding Marcus, his knees on the asphalt, hands behind his head. A cop taking out his nightstick and battering him to the ground.

Sang Hoon grappling both Mei and himself down the alley, Marcus got caught. Nothing could be done.

"I TOLD you Vivian that if you were to come, I'd call the shots. We can cuff him to a hospital bed." Billy shifted to the balls of his feet. Fight or Flight. An intense wave of anxiety crashed over him. Gam-og-e gal su eobs-seubnida (he couldn't be locked up). Billy's pulse hammered in his ears and his heartrate jacked up high.

Jerry cursing at the hearing, trying everything to keep Marcus out of an orange jumpsuit.

"Everyone knows death is better than prison." Billy whispered, mostly to himself. He remembered Marcus being carted off to prison. He didn't come back the same, and he was only in ten months. Jerry got him out early and he still had that far-off look in his eye. The same sort of look Neil would get.

"Billy stop with the damn dramatics!" Steve sounded pissed, he had kept silent for the most part.

"I'll burn this whole wasteland down with you and the Kingpin in it before I let you arrest me. You'll NEVER CAGE ME." Billy's mouth dried out like sidewalk chalk when he screamed. 'la liberté avant tout. (Freedom above all else)', that was Marcus' motto. Goosebumps prickled over his skin, and he ground his teeth.

Fingers and a sting at his neck and he grabbed at it and jerked instantly. Did he get stung…?

No...

In his hand was the mostly empty syringe he gave Steve… did he REALLY? Billy's eyes flashed wide and his jaw slacked and dropped. He twisted around to see Steve, face unreadable.

"You think I should be caged too… huh King Steve." Billy's face blanked out. He gave Steve that syringe to use against the Kingpin… he gave Steve his necklace to protect him and this…this is what he got in return? A cage?

Did Steve really think he deserved this?

Billy's vision swam and he slumped against the BMW. His eyes locked on Steve and his chest burned and he bit his lip… he didn't feel angry… he felt… just….

Betrayed.

Must be the Ketamine. He didn't do SAD.

"What you did was dangerous and reckless. Could have killed Mrs. Sinclair! You're so irresponsible, and you don't care about anything but your revenge! You don't get the consequences of your actions. You're going out of control. You're going to get yourself killed!" Steve's voice bounced around drunkenly in his head and he heard other voices slur together.

Dangerous.

Reckless.

Irresponsible.

Out of control.

Sounded about right, Neil had said similar things. Hell, even Mei even called him reckless. Steve really thought he deserved all of this. That it was his fault the whole hick circus was stuck in this acid trip Hell.

Blue and Red lights flashed all around him, and suddenly warm happiness and sadness tingled through his chest. He wanted to sob, laugh and fly away at the same time.

Maybe all of this was his fault. He deserved this hell, and he was fighting the King of it. He had gotten away with being his worthless self for so long, now it was time to PAY UP.

"You said that...to die in a fire! To die in a fire and leave all you alone...to die in a fire..." Billy mumbled, laughing to himself, little pink fires danced all around him next to dark butterflies.

Dark butterflies...an omen.

"—can't believe you drugged him!"

"He man—"

"—was gonna fight Hop!"

"EVERYONE calm do—"

Maybe he was JUST El Lobo Feroz. He'd eventually be put down.

He puked hard onto the asphalt. And again. And again. His body twitched, then his chest went liquid. He couldn't see anything anymore, the pink fires and dark butterflies were replaced with clouds. Nuages sombres et effrayants (dark scary clouds).

Harrington had the nail bat in his other hand and he wondered if he was just going to finish him off. Something dark and dense clogged inside his chest, loneliness.

"Just FINISH me off with that bat, Harrington. I know you want to, shining knight. That fat kid is right…." Billy pointed to his own head. "Here is where demons play. Wǒ zhǐ shì yīgè yāoguai…(I'm just a demon)." Billy muttered slurred and thick, he forgot that kid's name. Where was he anyway? Who was that cop? Whose car was this? What was he being arrested for again?

He managed to twist his body weakly so his back faced the door of the BMW before sliding down to the sticky pavement. His eyes rolled back in his head a bit, spit or blood or something pooled at the corner of his mouth. He couldn't move his limbs, numbed cold.

He spasmed and hit slumped fully to the asphalt, waiting for the pain of the bat.

Billy heard a cacophony of rushed, muddled, raised voices, but a calm one sounded in his head clear as day.

He saw blue. A peaceful, happy blue. Deep Malibu sky blue. And it had a…braid. And a tranquil face. Tribal tattoos, dark eyes. Soft smile. Red lips.

"Loga, Loga, parating na ako (I am coming)." He knew that voice from anywhere. It was Bayani, and that was his aura. He always said his was the color of that girly liquor, blue curacao.

"Bayani….Nasa impyerno ako. (I'm in hell)." Billy murmured.

Present time

---

Billy wrinkled his nose and strode across the desolate parking lot towards what he hoped was the supermarket. That rank stench of mold and decay reminded him of the one alley behind the last place he and his maman lived in the day before trash day in ripe July. He could hear his maman's voice now, shouting and laughing out that half broken window across the alley to Simone about some dance gossip.

Steve, doe eyed, Harrington and his Cabbage Patch leech would probably avoid him from now on. Billy Loga had flew his Psicópata maníaco (manic psychopath), flag high. Cuffs and prison never got a good reaction out of him, but he went full MANIC. Yet one more classic loga FUCK UP. Another bridge burnt to the ground along with Maxine.

Fuck it, like he cared if Harrington ever gave him the time of day again.

He looked back across the street and damn if that ambulance wasn't still smoldering a bit.

If he had done something on that scale back in South Central solo, Javier would have definitely knocked some sense to him, or made him work at his mom's restaurant. Javier could be such a prude.

Oh fucking well, no dwelling on the past. And burning bridges was another thing he did best. If he made it out of this hellhole, he'd put so much distance between that town and his rear-view mirror he'd need new tires.

Sorry Little Hickshit, drag someone your age to that movie. Toughen them UP, and it'd also just look fuckin' creepy if he took her to a movie. Not that he cared what Tommy or Carol thought of him, but he didn't want PITY.

Luc William Loga wasn't anyone's pity case. 'I'm only out here because of Mrs. Sinclair.' Fuck offfffffffff, Harrington. Next time someone told Steve to do something he didnt want to do, like talk to Billy Loga, he sould say that.

He didn't want to know if that faggot stuff got out. He'd have to somehow put together some money because he doubted he could get back to Susan's house and get his stash under the floorboards of Neil's bedroom.

His gut still clamped up about everything, must be the hunger.

He didn't sense the Kingpin, must have fallen back. Collecting the troops for another go. It wasn't before long of trudging through the forest, which made a nasty mess of his thin scrubs, that he got to the shadiest, yeoggyeoun (disgusting) supermarket he'd ever had the displeasure of seeing.

Toppled and rusted carts were strewn everywhere in the parking lot with cars that looked like they'd never start again.

Next to it was a blacked out liquor store that looked straight out of a Halloween movie.

Michael Myers here was your cue…

"Now, let's put together a list. Smokes, booze, SPAM! Lots of Spam. Canned shit. Twinkies, peanut M&Ms for little hickshit and some real food. I can probably cook something." Billy whispered to himself and his delts relaxed low down his spine. Shockingly, he knew his way around a kitchen. He kinda had to parent himself some. One, his Maman taught him a few things, two, she wasn't around a whole lot, three Maya was a homicide detective. Maya couldn't cook eggs without destroying four pans and making a lot of smoke. She and Antoine would compete for worst cook in history.

No. That was SUSAN. Steaks like hockey pucks.

Come to think of it, Max didn't know he could cook either.

Well, no one in Hawkins thought he KNEW what he was fucking doing. Chief fast food may have been a soldier, but on streets there were no rules or order. Sometimes you were on your own, and had to figure out through trial and error.

Billy preferred it that way. Gèng qīngsōng (Easier).

He picked up the least sticky shopping basket and started for the canned food aisle. He wanted corn…tomatoes… beans. Lots of beans. Kidney, black, pork and beans. Good. Next…peaches. Pears. Sweet shit like that. OK. Spam.

He found the Spam and dumped in like six tins of them. He used to make fried Spam sammies for him and Antoine everytime after they did it.

Post-Sex-Spam-Sammie time was sacred. Like Kwanzaa, Bastille day, or Chūnjié (Chinese new year).

Billy knew all the produce and shit would be rotten to hell, even though he couldn't see it yet he could tell by the putrid, porta-potty stench.

HARD PASS.

Didn't Little Hickshit say she liked breakfast food? Something about syrup? Waffles or pancakes?

He double backed and got a second basket and put in a toothbrush, toothpaste, some canned mushrooms, and some packets of taco seasoning in there. Maybe he could make some poor man's chili or something. Put Spam in it.

He made it round to the frozen food and was surprised the glass was intact and still foggy. Did this backwards place keep the freezers ON somehow? Maybe it was this place really liked being cold.

He opened up one of the doors and put in a box or two of frozen waffles.

They might be OK. Shrug.

He swung back, got some syrup, the Twinkies and M&Ms. Unfortunately, almost of the packs of smokes were too rotted out, but he managed to find a relatively fine pack of Parliaments.

His least favorite brand. Jerry loved smoking this cheap shit if he couldn't find his 'double happiness' Chinese brand.

His brain sparked to life when he got to the registers.

"Paper or plastic? Plastic it is! Smart choice, you can reuse them as trash bags. Oh. Mr. Loga you forgot your change! Thank you for shopping at Food Lion!" Billy babbled to himself and practically sashayed with glee to the cash register. With a quick, practiced jimmy of his knife, he cracked the cheap Hawkins cash register WIDE open.

CHA CHING.

The bills were filthy but he could wash…

Oh God. Launder them. Sang Hoon would love that pun. He took every bill from cash register one, then cash register two, and finally cash register three.

Six hundred sixty five dollars. One dollar short of his number.

He took out the tooth brush, put some paste on it, and started brushing his teeth as he left the supermarket with a spring in his step, three bags of groceries, and a wad of cash in left boot.

Now, to the liquor store. Oras ng kasiyahan (party time)! He kicked open the door and this giddiness was what that kid Willy Wonka must have felt. Only with liquor and not candy, and the store was festering, rank and gross. But still…FREE booze and RIPE for the taking. He continued to brush his teeth as he worked the store, looking for his favorite….

Trouvé le (found it)!

He grabbed the largest bottle of Don Pilar Anejo he could find. His favorite.

He wondered what liquor Steve drank…scotch? Single malt? Something haughty, but strong. Good neat. Matched his eyes. He debated nabbing the bottle of Johnny blue… nah. Steve wouldn't probably drink in front of Cabbage Patch.

And since did he go shopping for King Steve anyway? Didn't he just drug him?

He MUST have it BAD.

Billy physically wiped the thoughts from his head by spitting out the toothpaste and ditching the toothbrush. He cracked the register collecting two hundred and eleven more dollars.

Nice little nest egg to start over with…maybe East Coast. New York. Philadelphia.

No.

Sunny Miami.

Great cocaine and BETTER Latino guys. Que guapo (good lookin). Billy grinned at the absurdity of the notion he would ever make it there, but pipe dreams were sometimes fun.

He left the store and sat on the hood of an old Buick. With a rip, he opened the lid on the spam and a pop, cracked open the cork on the Don Pilar.

"Cheers to Miami, Gānbēi!" He took a deep swig of the Tequila, it went down reaaaalll nice despite the toothpaste aftertaste. He put the glass bottle on the filthy trunk with a clunk and dug into the tin of spam with a fork he found. Spam always tasted better fried, but he was so hungry he didn't care. He went through one and a half tins before getting out his lighter for a smoke.

'Snick'

If there was only way he could heat up the Spam without completely charring it. He realized he had been holding the lit lighter a bit too long and the flame had warped down his hand.

Oh, yeah, he could work with THIS.

He squinted at his hand and flicked closed the lighter. The flame danced around the back of his hand, curled down his fingers and snaked down his wrist.

Jí hǎo. Excellent.

Oh yeah, they mentioned something about him being the devil when they tranq'd him didn't they? Demon? Maybe he really was El Diablo. His life had become some horror movie and he was the starring villain.

He heard an engine. Car. Was the redneck circus packing up and moving on? Probably a good call. He'd let them do them. He could always catch Harrington and get his necklace back later. He let flame around his hand and wrist smoked out, he was fine with being left behind. Really.

He took another deep, sharp swig of tequila and puffed on a cheap Parliament as Harrington's BMW rolled by and spun into the parking lot. So, they had the same idea he did. Estupitos, driving the block and a half here! Noise attracts those Cujo.

Billy, with marked disinterest, took out a packet of Twinkies. He'd have them after his cigarette.

The BMW scraped to a sudden stop and Harrington sprung out of the driver's seat like a five-oh responding to an active crime scene.

They had to STOP meeting like this.

"Billy! Christ, what in the hell are you DOING?" Harrington gasped out like he had just finished wind sprints at practice. Billy cocked his head to the side. He couldn't read Harrington here.

"Got hungry. Went grocery shopping. Being a menace to society works up one hell of an appetite, Harrington." Billy sneered and exhaled a perfect smoke ring. He never even made eye contact with him.

"I thought, we thought, you went after it alone." Harrington added unsteadily. He was running his hand through his hair as if to calm himself down.

Is that so?

"Sorry to disappoint you all, but I DON'T have a death wish. Do people who plan on killing themselves put defensive fire rings around their house? NO. Just take the damn groceries, FUCK OFF, and leave me BE." Billy gritted out venomously, eyes hard. He vividly remembered the shady look of disgust on Harrington's face when he looked him dead in the eyes after he blew up the ambulance.

"Holy FUCK, we don't want you dead! Get that through your thick skull!" Harrington approached him, confident, and Billy drew a long, skeptical drag off his cigarette.

"For NOW. I'm useful." Billy smirked and exhaled and a small plume of flame. He was getting better control of it. Why was Harrington still here anyway? He wasn't endangering anyone. He was just chilling, huwag makialam (minding his own business).

Harrington's face quickened serious like cement, and maneuvered full frontal in his space. He stood a lot taller than him because he was still sitting on the low hood of the Buick.

"No Billy…that's not why. Mrs. Sinclair said you overdosed...I almost killed you." Huh? How would she… oh nurse. Riiight. And yeah, he certainly fell down the K-Hole.

"Erica freaked out. She kicked me in the shin. Hard." Hell yeah, Little Hickshit!

"So, you drove here to gloat that you got one over on me, Harrington? Congratulations, here's your medal. I hope your shin bruises." Billy flicked the metal lid of the Spam at him. Harrington batted it away, jaw dropped in horror. Harrington then grabbed the bottle of Don Pilar and the bottle made a squeak when he popped the cork and took a swig.

King Steve drinks tequila.

"NO. That's NOT why I'm HERE. You're the one not listening. I didn't mean to…something happened during the bat fight….and nevermind. I didn't know that stuff was that strong. I came to the Upside-Down to get YOU out, to make sure you LIVED, goddamnit." Harrington locked eyes with Billy and Billy swallowed. Billy read Steve's face carefully, he didn't read a lie. In fact he had that stupid, flustered look on his face he got when he had to say something he didn't want to say.

"You wanted to save me? Don't lie, you came for Erica because she's Sinclair's sister. Don't bullshit a bullshitter." Billy challenged in a skeptical, low murmur. He threw the spent cigarette to the ground.

Though, Harrington did say he promised Maxine he'd being him back. Why he had zero idea. She didn't want to see him alive, she wanted to see him with a toe-tag.

Harrington faced the bottle for another swig. He could handle his tequila.

"I can take Nance calling me bullshit, but not you. I came for you, you asshole, no bullshit." Steve seethed like he wanted to grab and shake him to emphasize the point, but he didn't. He wondered what it would feel like to have Steve's hands all over him that weren't fists.

Billy let his shoulders relax, his guard fully down.

"Yeah, King Steve, why's that? Got a hero complex?" Billy barbed back, deflecting because his throat thickened and got hot. Billy rarely got flustered, but now he itched for something to do with his hands. He shouldn't have tossed his cigarette.

Steve didn't take the bait.

"You don't deserve to be stuck in the Upside-down, you didn't deserve all that back at the tree either." Steve added unnecessarily. Billy didn't know why he brought up who deserved what. King Steve didn't know him well enough to know what he did and didn't deserve and more importantly, Billy didn't do feelings sessions.

"Pues, si...(Well, if...)" Billy trailed off. He wasn't sure where he was going with that sentence. Fuck, he also said that in Spanish.

"I should have listened to you at the quarry, amigo." Steve pressed, locking his big-ol' eyes with him and Billy rolled his his in return.

Oh for fucks sake, Sensitive-feelings Steve obviously took his quarry meltdown a little too personally. Billy wouldn't have listened to himself at the damn quarry.

"Can confession o'clock already, I was manic at the quarry." Billy said exasperated, before he really thought about it. It was true.

"Only because Neil almost killed you with a lamp! What a bastard." Oh. Byers must have squealed. He'd sock him again for that. "and for the record, even though I got a mean swing, I DON'T want to bash your skull in with my bat." Billy made a face at that.

"Oi! That's a bit GRAPHIC!" Billy's eyes flashed angrily in a challenge. If Steve said it in that level of detail it means he definitely thought about doing it.

"YOU suggested it, you prick." Steve scowled cute. Billy didn't remember saying that though. "You said I wanted to do it. And you called Dustin 'fat kid' and said he was right about you being a Demon. I guess you must have really been high to say Dustin was right about something." Steve chuckled dryly, taking another swig.

"Ohhhh, you expect me to remember something I did AFTER you drugged me. You must get a lot of second dates." Billy grinned in glee as Steve spewed his tequila across the ground.

"Relax, du calme, King Steve." Billy took back the bottle and took a swig himself. "Honestly…. One of my older brothers would have probably done something similar if I did that back in LA. Just think of it as payback for me beating your face into blueberry pie." Billy clicked his tongue and let Steve off the hook. Steve wiped his mouth but his lips still glistened.

"Yeah, jackass, and you…doing our own thing, thinking no one has your back is fucking EXHAUSTING. So fucking cut it OUT." Steve's brown eyes roved over Billy's face, throat, and chest. Maybe it was the tequila… and that he just ate, but he felt much BETTER.

Billy smiled bright and opened the packet of his 'birthday cake'. His chest warmed up and he leaned back on the hood a bit. He braced his arm a bit to look up at Steve whose eyes scorched into his bare chest.

"No promises. But I do promise I won't blow up another ambulance… I couldn't get the second to start… heard you're good with cars though. Wanna help me pop her hood, and get it going together?" Billy smirked and wagged an eyebrow suggestively, just to fuck with him.

Steve Harrington fucking blushed.

Billy's groin got hot.

"Not sure if you got the right set of tools." Steve retorted, choked. Billy remained completely unaffected. Steve had seen in the gym showers what he had to work with.

He chuckled a bit and dangled one of the Twinkies in front of Steve. Peace Offering. Like his knife.

"If I don't, I'm sure you can rope something together. Saw that knot in the room. Interesting." Billy tongue his lip out obscenely and took a final swig, corking the bottle.

This time Steve took the Twinkie, and shoved his left shoulder…was Steve FLIRTING back?

"I used to sail, oh and thanks for tying my damn shoes together. What are you, nine?! I nearly fell on my face!" Steve took a bite out of the Twinkie. Billy laughed loud, genuine, and deep. He had forgotten all about that.

"Sad to see Sailor Steve can't take a joke." Billy taunted, eating the last of his Twinkie, licking his fingers.

"That's a prank, not a joke. The only joke I see is the one right in front of me." Steve smiled down at him! He'd vault that image.

"I'm the real deal, Sailor Boy." Billy jutted his chin up, and bit like a shark. All Steve had to do was bend over a little, and he could lick the cream off the corner of his lips.

Talk about pipe dreams.

"A real pain in the ass." Steve jingled his keys. "Let's go, I told them I'd be back with you soon." Steve sounded pretty confident he'd be able to find him. Well… he supposed he did. Billy got the bags and slid off the hood to the ground right in front of Steve and stood up.

Despite the dark circles under Steve's eyes, he looked good enough to eat. Suck. Fuck.

"Lead the way to your rich kid yacht, skipper." Billy gestured to the BMW and Steve rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

He was rubbing off on Steve. Hehe.

He opened the passenger door and slid onto the dusty, but plush leather seat. This would be the first time he rode in a car with Steve. And it was his BMW. It annoyed Billy that this mattered way more to him than it did to Steve.

"What food did you get, anyway?" Steve asked as he cranked the ignition.

"Stuff for poor-man's chili. Special stuff for Little Hickshit. Nothing for you." Billy sassed as Steve snorted and looped around the parking lot and Steve mocked him.

"Little Hickshit? You mean Erica? What kind of nickname is THAT?" Steve pulled onto the main road and Billy's senses went on high alert for those roots.

"She has one for me, 'Big Cityshit'. Fair game. Oh, and if Cabbage Patch it tries to get his chubby, grubby hands on her stuff, no chili for him." Billy scanned the road. Nothing.

"His name is Dustin. And you're… actually gonna cook chili? In the hospital? In the Upside-Down?" Skepticism rang high and Billy white knuckled the 'oh shit' handle above the door.

Clear road.

"For everyone but you." Billy flashed a fake grin, then his thoughts derailed. "How long was I out?" Billy was méfiant, cagey. He didn't like this false sense of security. He drummed his fingers on the dash.

"Dunno, maybe five hours. Why?" Tā mā de (Fuck). Too long for the King to be off his throne.

He scanned the treeline, he was not about to let the Poltergeist get one over on him. Billy bounced his knee and tongued his bottom lip out as they pulled peacefully into the ER loop of the hospital.

"Billy?" Everyone was out like a parade. An anxious, spidery dread skittered in his chest. A shadow flickered at the edge of the forest. Maybe. Mei's paranoia started to kick in as a dark feeling crept and twisted in his gut.

"Billy, what's up?" Steve grabbed Billy's shoulder and it grounded him a bit. Billy's wild eyes met Steve's placid ones. He could give Steve one thing, he always looked calm, solid.

Steve steadied him.

"Nada, amigo." Billy lied and quickly scrambled out of the car with the food.

"See, I told you Loud Mouth. You owe me two movie tickets." Erica sassed like the tart she was and rubbed some bet into Cabbage's dumb face.

"Ugh, you're so annoying. I don't even know who would want to see a movie with you!" Cabbage taunted back and before Billy stepped in Erica already had her index finger up.

"Uh, who do you know again? Oh that's right, no one cool." Erica with the rebound three pointer to win the game. Billy chuckled despite his unease and stuck out his hand for his and Erica's secret handshake.

Elbow slide, grab hands, point.

"Steve! They have a handshake! We need one! I'll get on it. It will be way cooler than theirs." Cabbage head whined like a drug dealer getting paid in stolen goods.

Steve finally came around from the other side of the BMW flashing the 'OK' symbol.

His protégé: score 1, Steve's protégé: score negative one million.

"Did you go grocery shopping, Billy?" Vivian asked and peered in the bag with canned stuff in it.

"Uh, yeah. Got hungry, and um… thought chili would be easy." Billy said awkwardly as she pulled out the corn and a can of beans.

"Smart thinking." Vivian gave Sheriff Snowball the eye, and he didn't say anything. An icy dread locked down Billy's joints. He felt a hot gaze drill into his temple, had to be Steve.

He did his best to ignore it.

"Yes! Mama look, he got my favorite M&Ms!" Erica pulled out the waffles too. Billy knew the waffles were paydirt.

"Eggos! Syrup and Eggos. You're a good friend." Great, the creepy retard girl liked him. She and Erica and both flocked back inside the hospital, chatting about dumb girl shit. He heard something from far away, and whipped his head back to study the woods where the bats had flown out of hours ago.

Something nagged at him like one of those sluts from school.

"How did you know Jane liked Eggos?" Was that junkie chief talking to him like they hadn't almost tried to kill each other five hours ago?

"She's a kid. They're waffles. Not rocket science, Sheriff Slurpee." Billy bit out condescendingly and heard a whisper too faint to understand, but it didn't sound like English.

The Kingpin dared try to interrupt his victory feast? Well, there was room on the menu.

"Hey wait! GODDAMNIT." Chief Zinger yelled as Billy shoved the rest of the groceries at him and made his way around the BMW to the street.

He examined the tree line. Nothing looked out of place.

"Billy, seriously, what's wrong?" Steve followed him, irritated.

"It's here. Get LOST, Steve." Billy motioned for Steve to stay back, which of course he fucking ignored. Il n'a jamais écouté (He never listened).

"No, I got your back." Steve sounded calm, and serious.

'snick' like a lighter it clicked.

The torched ambulance was GONE.

Billy pivoted to the right just in time.

"Putain (fuck)! Heads!" Billy yelled as he planted his feet, and threw his whole body into Steve's. The force of the tackle sent them both hurtling sideways to the ditch, hard.

Not inches over him, talking the diameter of a basketball rim, the front fender of the ambulance rocketed over them. With a deafening, quaking crash, it hit the pavement just beyond them.

He landed on Steve, face on his chest. Billy's adrenaline and rage crested high in his bloodstream.

Steve was almost street pizza.

"Jesus…You…You ok?!" "Steve, Ca va?" They asked each other at the same time. Steve's stupidly big brown eyes were even more wide open than usual. Fear.

"Fucking mint. Gonna topple this king." Billy heard gunshots and Cabbage Patch screaming something as propped himself up. He squeezed Steve's shoulder in what he hoped would be a signal of 'Got this'.

Billy reached for his right hand to help him up, but Steve weirdly grabbed it with his left.

"How we gonna do this?" Steve asked as they stared down the black, spidery Poltergeist which held back-half the torched ambulance up in the sky.

"I'm gonna huff, and puff and burn his shitty world DOWN. Soy El Lobo Feroz. Big bad wolf." Billy's face lit up like Christmas morning. Steve nodded all badass, and solid. King Steve had entered the arena! Deer in the headlights, washed up, 'hung up over Wheeler' Steve had bit the dust.

He tapped out a cigarette and put it to his lips right as two El Caimans slunk out of the nasty forest.

"You got more issues than Playboy, but I'm ready for some batting practice." Steve reached down and grabbed his bat which Billy guess he dropped when he tackled him.

"Good, Cuz daddy's not in the mood to round the bases with these cunt faced swamp bitches." Billy winked at Steve for more bravado and flicked open his lighter for effect.

He was going to break open the Kingpin's jaw, and shit down its ghostly throat for trying to flatten him and his King.

'Me cago en fantasma' he'll fuck that ghost.

"Boys, you two ok?" Vivian strode towards with her shotgun out like she was the one who fought in 'Nam. Now that he thought about it, she reminded him of a strange blend of his Maman AND Maya.

"We're good." Steve replied. Right behind her was Chief Cheesecake.

"If you can hurt the ghost with your fire, we can take on these two here." Whoa. Was Sheriff Sandwich actually giving him the latitude to do what he wanted? The creepy girl stood behind him, giving him the thumbs up.

"Deal, Johnny Law." Billy still vowed to never call him by his real name.

"We can work together. Like a team, pendejo." Did the retard girl just call him asshole? She smiled at him.

He liked it better when she hated him.

"Steve! I got more syringes, and a staff." Cabbage Patch was hauling ass with a broken IV stand, the slingshot, and a fuck-ton of syringes.

They should be able to take on those two El Caiman while he dealt with the Poltergeist.

"Billy! I got my stuff we can do this!" Erica had her flashlight. He couldn't tell her to put it back; she seemed real intent on using it. When they made it out of here, he would make all of them vow to never breathe a word about her power, even if they blabbed his.

Then he heard a familiar, bone-shattering shriek. He couldn't place it, but he had heard it before. Maybe a…

"Billy! You know that sound, right? It's Alien!" Erica yelled back to him. Something large and dark parkoured in the forest behind the El Caimans.

'Keep your tacky jewelry…do you think any of them are like Alien?' The Kingpin was using monsters that Erica and he knew against them. Erica's Cujo, his El Caiman, his Camaztoz, and now…

"Alien?! Like that space horror movie? You watch those?!" Cabbage yelled out, and Billy amped himself up for a real challenge until Steve stepped up.

"I got the Alien. You get the Kingpin. I can handle it, trust me, you'll see." Steve fronted different. This Steve was as hard as Nikki Sixx, the Steve he had seen in school was soft like Phil Collins. Steve made show of practice swinging his bat

Billy fully believed he could take out Alien.

Billy squared up to him and Steve's stare stayed steady. Sure, Steve wasn't cotton candy soft as used to be, but just because he fronted hard didn't mean he could fight hard.

"Take Erica with you. Move like water when you fight things bigger than you. When you get knocked down, get back up, King Steve." Billy stated serious as a car bomb. Baya said that once when he won a fight with a guy who was eight inches taller than he was. He swore Bayani stole that line from some cheesy kung-fu movie, but damn if it didn't clock.

"What, no breaking a plate over its head?" Steve sassed back all casual.

"Now who's all jokes." Billy clapped Steve's back one last time."Zou ba. Let's go." He was DONE waiting.

Waiting got people killed.

Maybe if he hadn't waited for his maman to come home that morning, and went out looking for her he would have found her in time. Maybe if he and other six in his crew busted more of a hump to track down those Russians instead of wasting time in school, Maya would be here, and Jerry could walk.

Dios Mios, he was NOT going through some psycho therapeutic blame game right now. Ice that.

"All this just for a piece of me? TAKE A HINT! I'M NOT INTERESTED YOU YEAST INFECTED GUTTER SKANK!" He strode out across the street towards she poltergeist who was still holding that stupid ambulance.

"Dangsin-eun naui geos-ieyo (you belong to me)!" The Kingpin garbled out in Korean like a guy taking a cock, but not fully prepped yet.

"Fuck you, nobody owns me." Billy found his rage again. No one would ever make him do something he didn't want to do.

The unmistakable tang of gasoline filled the air. Good, he ended up walking out right where he and Vivian poured it.

"Dangsingwa dangsin-ui chingudeul-eun silpaehabnida. (You and your friends will fail)." He flicked open his lighter and let the flame snake down his wrist, up his elbow and ebb down his right leg.

"Age before beauty." Billy's face glowed like a furnace as fire raced down his pants leg and with a burst the fire raced in a line in both directions, separating the Kingpin and him from the rest of the crew.

He heard shouts and saw a brilliant flash of light from behind the wall of fire he created.

"Ama nega joh-ahaneun jal saeng-gin sonyeon-eul delyeo galgeoya. (Maybe I'll take the take the pretty boy you like)." Billy's blood boiled to a fever pitch.

The fire wall didn't burn too high, but he didn't need it to. It was for show. A fucking WARNING shot.

He tapped out another cigarette with his still burning hand.

"You're all talk, no walk." He was about to storm his fucking castle and bring it down like Babylon. He was sure gonna fuck his day UP.

"Neo yaghae. Naneun bulgasali ya. Neoneun na jasin-eul mulli chil su eobsda. Gung-geug-ui Mul Gwishin. (You're weak, you can't even come close to defeating me on your own. I am the Bulgasari, the ultimate water demon)." The FUCK it said?! Oh Sang Hoon would go on a bender if he found out all those tales his auntie told were actually TRUE.

Sang Hoon's auntie told them ghost stories on the way home from the grade school playground. One was the Bulgasari, a Korean monster with the nose of an elephant. The name meant the 'unkillable' a demon that controlled nightmares and ate iron. The Mul Gwishin, was a water spirit that lived in damp, cold places that tried to drown people, and take their souls.

She told them all those stories before those Crips burned her store to the ground with her and Sang Hoon in it. Hoonie was only nine, but he made it out. Even had the scars to prove it. She wasn't so damn lucky. Sang Hoon never let them talk about his Auntie or her stories after that.

The Kingpin was basically saying he was both of them combined, but he didn't give a flying fuck because those were just stupid little stories that were already written.

He made his own damn life, and it wasn't 'Fin' yet.

Billy's laughter started out as a chuckle and raged as an inferno into a maniacal cackle.

"You know what, Bulgasari? I think you're the one scared of me. I'm the KING here." Billy hollered back. Billy KNEW it was true. Something about him, Erica, and especially Steve scared this thing, otherwise he'd be long dead by now. Kingpin was either scared of them, or really that damn delusional to think he could steal his and Erica's souls. He had brass balls to think he could possess them both into doing his dirty work by turning Hawkins into some hillbilly genocide.

He then spotted something in the bent open ambulance. Silver… no WAY. One of the oxygen tanks hadn't burst yet!

He scanned the ground for something, anything he could kick… metal bolt. That would do.

He'd make a fucking METEOR out of it.

"Naneun amugeosdo dulyeowohaji (I fear nothing)." The Kingpin chanted and Billy smelled a stable of horseshit.

Steve and the others had his back by keeping those other goons off him, the least he could do was kick a damn bolt. Despite the knee high wall of fire, he saw the Alien, a hybrid frog version, strike Steve down with his tail. He better get back up! Vivian racked her shotgun right as the remaining Caiman snapped his prickly snatch her way. Erica's flashlight shone dangerously dim. Chief and Cabbage's chests heaved, firing their slingshot and revolver.

Time to light the wick on his birthday candles.

"Special Delivery! Coming in hot from Yours Truly. Que te den (up yours)." Billy took a few steps back and with the flames still lapping up his leg he arched it back and launched it like a fucking fourth of July bottle rocket. The fiery bolt soared through the air and….

Direct fucking hit! Manalo (victory)!

The oxygen tank blew like that one time Maya left the gas on the stove and his cigarette set off the whole damn kitchen. The explosion knocked him back and he hit his head hard, but it was worth it to hear the Bulgasari make the same prissy squeal those Russian Coke dealers made when they stapled those signs to their chests.

As if on queue the Alien and the cunt faced El Caimanhe'd make bitchin' leather boots with once Vivian Sinclair was done with it, paused in their attack.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT AMIGO?! SOY EL REY! I'M THE KING!" Billy got out one of the hand rolled jobs from his back pocket. Flame spiraled around his finger and he lit it. He inhaled and exhaled like the last max rep of a bench press.

The concentrated beam of fire actually turned blue like the blow torch Javier used to crack in half a parking boot. He gifted that trick parking boot to his mother so she'd could slip it on her El Camino. Meter maids didn't ticket a car that already had a boot on it.

The Bulgasari howled like Marcus' Doberman, Ripley.

THEY WERE WINNING.

Just then a writhing, festering darkness coiled in Billy's head, as a slashing, clawing pain. In an instant Billy crumpled to ground. Billy cursed but couldn't even hear himself.

"Aneun nawa hamkke dangsin-eul delyeo gal geos-ida! (I'll take you with me)." That voice came from his mind.

Billy's vision tunneled and blacked out into an abyss of cramping, blood-thinning pain. Countless needles stung his body all over. Billy bucked on the gravelly ground and grit his teeth. He wouldn't scream, he wouldn't give the Kingpin the satisfaction.

As if on cue, a railroad spike of pain cracked through his temple

He screamed so high and so loud it could be heard for three city blocks. Billy gripped the sides of his head, his hands sticky and hot with blood. He was being TORN APART like some fucking paper doll. Paper knight. Zhilaohu (paper tiger).

He didn't even know what he was yelling or which language, but he did know he was screaming something because his open mouth tasted dirt.

In some part of his mind, he knew that he had to be FLIPPING OUT literally on the pavement, but his body was being snapped, and he wore his brain was expanding like a damn balloon into his head.

AND.

He was alone.

Billy ripped the hair out of his head or maybe he hadn't. He couldn't separate what was REALLY happening. Blood flowed out his ears and down his neck like that leaky faucet in his old bathroom back in South Central.

His maman, her laugh. Her favorite red sequined outfit. Memere et grandpere and their lavender soap. That forever fucking long funeral. White carnations because who could fucking afford ROSES?

Maya holding his cold hand promising him they'd find the dealer sold it her.

Jerry and Maya cuffing and reading the rights that sick son of a bitch, Miguel Santiago, who killed his Maman.

The mirror he punched when he cockbag hung himself in holding. Seven years bad luck.

'Why didn't you look for me? Why did you disappoint me so much?!' His Maman, green eyes watery, gold hoops dangled from her ears.

'I didn't know you were using again! I fucking DIDN'T! You told me you'd be out past dawn… I TRIED in school, I helped Maya when I could!' Billy yelled back. Maman, Je t'aime!

'You knew the Russians were back after we broke up their operation. Why didn't you and the others tell us where they were?' Maya, with her dark, curly hair buzzed short and her dark skin and equally dark eyes drilled into him.

'They kept moving! Bayani couldn't keep up with them, and he didn't speak Russian! Their rivals, the Colombians, couldn't find them either! Javier and I snooped for weeks and found out nothing!' Maya we tried our best!

His Maman and Maya… they REALLY blamed him?

'Your crew of seven...' His ribs cracked open and his heart plunged deep into his gut.

Javier and Marcus, bent in busted angles, slumped down in the seats of his Camaro in the school parking lot. Blood splattered across the seats.

No.

Javier and Marcus would never let anyone get the jump on them. Even if they DID they'd put up more of a fight. Javier could deadlift a motorcycle. And Ripley, Marcus' Doberman would rip the Calf muscles off any banger. He'd witnessed it that day with Max.

Baya, glassy eyed, crimson blood on his scarlet lips. Throat slit. Baya's curved Garab knife next to him on the asphalt, propped up against the font fender. His beloved braid sawed off.

Hindi kaya (can't be so)!

He'd NEVER let anyone cut his hair except Marcus. Also, Baya had never lost a knife fight, he was trained from his father since he could hold one.

Juedui bu (Absolutely NOT).

Mei splayed out in her favorite five inch snakeskin heels, long hair matted, her bloodied manicured hand reaching towards Hoonie. Not his little sister. His first real friend.

Sang Hoon, face up, pistol across the pavement from him as if kicked from him, clothes sodden red. He'd never let ANYTHING happen to Mei, much less get disarmed.

Sasil-I anida (can't be true).

Max, curled up in front of Mei and Sang Hoon, skateboard at her side, wild copper hair slicked scarlet. She looked so small like a doll that had broken.

Not his WHOLE family.

IMPOSSIBLE.

Steve. Face down in front of his scab colored BMW, a pool of blood bigger than the half court circle. Glassy doe-eyes. Tangled brown hair. Those soft lips now red. Dead. Facing towards the Camaro.

Not his King.

He stood there. Himself holding Neil's knife, glimmering red. He'd never… ever EVER do this. Not to him. To THEM.

Billy bucked and shouted. He wasn't that guy, he WASN'T the monster that Neil repeatedly told him he was. He'd never betray his family like that.

He looked down at Steve again... lips busted open, cheeks swollen and bruised, his neck slashed and bloodied...

Wait.

Stop the fucking BUS.

He wasn't wearing maman's Saint Michael's pendant. Steve wouldn't have lost it. He CROWNED him with it, and the way Steve's eyes burned showed Billy he wouldn't take it off until he asked for it back.

This vision… was it like the fake ones that Baya would sometimes have, like the time he saw aliens?

Vivian said his Maman wouldn't have blamed him…Maya knew they tried to find them. Yeah… and why would his crew be in Hicktown?! Maybe none of this was fucking REAL. This spine splintering pain could be real, but maybe the rest wasn't?

He needed Baya. Baya had his back, SIEMPRE. ALWAYS. He needed him here, to guide him! FUCK. Baya's bright blue voice told him he was coming for him right before he fell down the K hole. Damnit Baya, I'd buy you all of that shitty Korean soju you liked so much if he just get this fucker out of his head!

Scraping lacerations tore down his sides. Billy's body jack knifed something inside him clamped down on his insides.

Ayudame, (Help me). God damnit, Loga hold it together. Claws, Talons, sharp and strong crushed in his skull in and ripped his scalp open. He couldn't see, feel, the smell of his own metallic blood filled his nose. It was shredding him open bloody, exposed and raw and he couldn't hold on.

ShhhzzzzLogazzzhhhstt Static buzzed through his head.

Then gold….a warm sunshine blanketed him.

Gold? Gold wasn't Baya's aura, Baya's was blue. Baya told him once everyone had their own aura, but he refused to tell anyone their own color. His mother's aura was dark red, Antoine's was pine green, But if this gold wasn't Baya… who else could it be?

'I got your back, fight, you're tough—' The presence definitely felt familiar, but the voice that hummed in his ears didn't really sound like Baya.

Talked too much.

It had to be Baya though. He was the oldest, he brought them all together and looked after them all.

Baya found him bruised after he got his ass kicked in preschool. He introduced him to an equally bruised and angry Mei. Soon after came animal lover, hilarious Marcus. Then smooth and serious Javier. Last was blunt and cutting Sang Hoon.

It was Baya who helped him pick out the color of his mother's urn. Merlot red. It was Baya who squeezed his shoulder for encouragement when he spoke at her funeral. He did the same for Maya's and Antoine's even though those scientists had almost found him.

If Baya was with him, he could fight back and check to see if the others made it. Even if EVERYONE back in Hawkins would rather him be DEAD hanging from a tree with his deviant secrets scrawled in marker than alive, he would survive in this hell just to spite those ignorant fucks.

And TOPPLE this kingpin.

'—Steady, you stay with—' The gold voice hummed. Billy roared and the empowering gold warmth gripped him tight and warm.

Billy still white-knuckled something warm and metal…his lighter. He swallowed, gritted through the crippling pain, and flicked it open. Even though his eyes were still squinted shut he could see plumes and pillars of fire dancing around his fist and up his right arm.

If this Bulgasari could manipulate his worst fears to steal his soul, he could fuck with his too! The Bulgasari talked to him for a reason. Tried to BREAK him for a reason.

Il est incassable (he was unbreakable)

He tried to dethrone the wrong King.

Like the warm ocean at high tide, the golden aura buoyed him to sit up. It enveloped him like the sweater his Memere knitted him that he never quite grew into. It had a sailboat on it and he remembered how soft it was, but he never wore it outside because it wasn't 'hard' enough.

Sailor Steve better not have been made into chest burster by that Alien.

'There we go Billy—' Since when did Baya call him Billy?! Didn't matter. He flexed his already tense muscles and reared up. He wiped his face free of either tears, blood or a rank combination of the two.

Jiayou (fight fight.)

'I'm gonna fucking ruin you.' Billy howled out like a Demon even though the Bulgasari still had its filthy fingers in his mouth, and ears trying to claw out his SOUL.

'I got your back, Billy.' Billy turned around to the glowing gold figure behind him. He pressed his forehead square to the bridge of Baya's nose. They did this each time they were about to knife spar. The gold figure stood taller than him, odd (kakaiba), because Baya was three inches shorter than him, five foot six. Baya must have been wearing those platform heeled boots he saved for special occasions like Pride, Halloween, or Masskara Festival (festival of smiles).

Billy brushed his face down across the face of glimmering gold and put his lips to its right ear.

"I got this fucker right where I want him. I can WIN thanks to you. I won't let you down." Billy murmured his vow into Bayani's ear. There had been times where he had let his family down before, but he wouldn't here. There was too much at stake.

NO ONE got in his head and fucked around with his own psycho mind and got away with it.

He wrenched his flaming right arm free of the pain branching across his nerves, and grabbed the shadowy arm needling his eyes and ear drums. Billy raged out with crimson fire at the shadow ghost who dare tried to steal his damn SOUL. It recoiled and away from him but he wasn't about to let it get away. No. His actions had consequences and he was going to teach this fuck a valuable lesson.

What goes around, comes around.

Vivian had to get her own life, never too late to be a nurse. She also had to make sure Erica didn't turn out like her aunt, but not a pussy like her brother either.

That Chief had to survive to not screw up the investigation into Neil. That'll wise Susan up nice and good so she could move the fuck on.

That headcase girl should probably have a shot at a real life. That and have someone cook her real breakfast food, not that frozen crap.

Erica still had to see Nightmare on Elm Street, and show those other girls what cool really looked like.

He didn't really care what happened to Cabbage Patch, but if he meant that much to Steve then he should probably get out.

Steve.

If only he could tell Steve that he had never let anyone else wear that necklace. Not even Antoine. Billy HATED himself for his chest hitching when Steve showed him that he took his necklace from the crime scene. Steve thought of him. Merde…

Fuck that sentimental piss.

He just wanted to know what it felt like for Steve to tie him up with those crazy knots of his, and to return the favor by fucking him raw in the steamy passenger seat of his Camaro. He wanted that raunchy sex with Steve. Skin slicked and salty, slapping thrusts, Hair pulled taut, ropes in knots.

Steve promised he'd have his back even though he was an unhinged basket case. Even though he crossed one too many lines over and over. Even though everyone else thought, including himself, that he was some sort of monster…And he'd prove them RIGHT.

He was going to be the most horrific monster they'd never seen.

Luc William Loga was wrong, and fucked in skull, but he'd always act more WRONG and more FUCKED in the skull than anyone who tried to mess with him and his.

'Time to show me the goods you five cent slut.' Billy shouted, vicious, sharp, and deep.

The shadowy kingpin shrank back into itself and Billy inhaled deep and blew. Fire spiraled out like a vortex. This had to be the spirit connection between them because he was pretty sure his eyes were still squinted shut.

As soon as the blue and golden fire hit that Poltergeist bitch, Billy saw Steve's backyard and his rich kid pool. Next was Byers' shitbrick shack of a house. Last, those creepy dead woods between their houses.

Below the dirt, all knotted up was a pulsating heart straight out of some sort of Evil Dead movie. Billy couldn't make this shit up and he doubted Steven King could either.

A flash of Steve with his Saint Michael's glowing gold around his neck. He looked…MENACING which was definitely a new look for King Steve. He had the heart in hands and… was that… was that steam shooting out his hands? Yeah, piping hot steam. Little Hickshit was there too, hands like a lighthouse bubbling the veins and gooey shit around the heart.

Then…papillons de couleur arc-en-ciel, rainbow butterflies. Light and bright, the opposite of what Javier saw when his Maman, Maya, and Antoine kicked it. The butterflies swarmed the heart like hornets would, devouring it. Là mā (Freaky).

Oh, he was gonna EAT that fucker's steamed heart with mashed potatoes after this.

Now… time to jet.

Shit.

Billy couldn't feel any part of his body.

Different voices, all far away, echoed around him. Fucking annoying. Ta gueule (Shut up)!

Louder noises. Voices.

'ut him down!'

'ardiac arrest?'

'not breathin—'

'the fuck happened?'

'Billy, don't you dare—'

Anda a cagar (get lost), he wasn't having a fucking heart attack.…Those only happen to old people who eat slop, like Sherriff Slushie.

But something was napaka mali (very wrong).

Did the Bulgasari actually take his SOUL from his body? DICK MOVE.

Don't panic Loga. If he could steal an ambulance and use it for a getaway burglary of a payday loan place, he could fucking get his psycho mind back in his body. He concentrated and the darkness focused out a bit. The bright gold glow was still there, next to it was a small lavender one, a big, dark blue one in the back, a tall purple one, a small round leaf green one, and a thin ice blue one.

And a fading…hot pink one?

Instinct told him that was him. Is that why Bayani never told him the color of his aura was because it was David Bowie via Aladdin Sane PINK?!

Cào ni mā (mother fucker). He was vaulting this information and taking it to the grave.

But his grave wouldn't be HERE.

He urged himself closer. Swimming or some shit.

The gold glow was pulsing behind the pink aura

He was closer, but Goddamn was this tiring. Yawn. No. He couldn't nap here. Something told him he didn't have much time.

The tall purple one now bent over his aura.

Just a little closer. Basketball court length. Half court. Top of the key. Under the rim. He reached out and touched the edge of the rapidly fading pink glow.

Like lightning, his pulse thrummed through him all the way down to his toes. His eyes still stung like he got acid thrown in them, and his ears still throbbed, but he'd take this over having his mind out of his body any day.

Something was pushing his chest HARD down over and over. ARRÊTEZ! STOP!

He hacked up more wet shit that he hoped wasn't blood, but it tasted metallic so it probably fucking was. The pushing finally stopped. Por fin (finally).

"Told you he'd make it. Now you owe me a new bracelet making set." Girl's voice, relieved, Little Hickshit?

"What if he's a spy for the Mind Flayer now?! Just like Will was?!" Spy? Who said that, Cabbage?

He weakly managed to lift his right middle finger

"Spy that, cabbage patch." Billy wheezed. "Putain. Jesus Christo. gàn nǐ mā...fuck…" Billy gasped out, he couldn't catch his breath, it was like his lungs hadn't worked in years.

He heard someone laugh. Erica.

"He's OK. The Master doesn't have him." Creepy girl.

"Yeah, I don't think we need to worry about that, Dustin." Man's voice. Sheriff. He blinked open his eyes a few times and saw nothing but dull, murky blurs.

Billy tried to sit up, but his body just wasn't gonna have it.

"Easy Billy. You didn't have a pulse for a good few moments there." Vivian's voice soothed him from his left, but her words didn't.

He died again? This was getting fucking OLD. What was he? Un Gato con nueve vidas (cat with nine lives)?

"Cheating the reaper. Call it a hobby. ssin-daeng (damn)." Billy swallowed, throat hoarse. A hand on his right shoulder trembled a bit, a hand with long nails, like acrylic press-ons Mei loved.

But Vivian didn't have her nails done, and she was to his left.

"Practice your less dangerous hobbies, like cooking or basketball." Vivian added. Billy blinked his eyes into focus and saw four a bit more clearly.

Erica was next to her mom near his legs. Creepy girl was across from Erica staring emptily at him like a doll. Christ. Cabbage Patch was at his feet, scribbling something in his notebook. If he was writing about him, he'd steal that from him and burn it. The Sheriff was behind Cabbage but he couldn't see his face from his angle even though he was sort of propped up on…his jacket? A pillow kinda deal? And something else? A jacket?

"You're a mess. You need a shower and a change of clothes." Now that was Erica.

"Says the runt with half a hairstyle…" He was forgetting someone important.

Steve!

"Where's Steve, what happened?" He tried to sit up again but all he did was move his neck.

"Behind you. And that's what we'd like to know." Chief good news reported in. His body relaxed, Steve was alright.

Billy finally struggled up to his elbows. He looked down at his chest, there was a lot of blood on his knotted shirt. His face and neck felt sticky but otherwise he felt fine. Royally pissed off and thirsty, but good to go.

Merci a deus (thank the gods).

"It was pretty cool, even for you. You were bleeding all over the place, from your ears and eyes, and you were saying a lot of stuff that definitely wasn't English. Like you were possessed, I wasn't scared thou—" Cabbage Patch babbled on worse than Susan about her damn knitting club.

"Friends don't lie." Doll girl interrupted.

"Fine, maybe I was a little scared ONLY because Steve ran towards you! For all I knew he was next! But NO, Steve was awesome and turned his armor on and helped you up and BOOM you were all on fire, like seriously ALL on fire like the human torch and the Mind Flayer made this like screaming noise like 'Yeeeeeeeeeee'. Just like extras in those bad action movies and they all ran off." Billy rolled his eyes and looked at his hands. They were covered in his own blood and hair. RANK.

Yeah, he needed a shower, and a less humiliating life.

"Fucking hell, the Bulgasari got away. Classic Loga fuck up." Billy cursed.

"Billy you didn't fuck up, you drove it off. You won." Steve's thick voice sounded for the first time, and the hand on his shoulder squeezed. Nails pricked slightly through the denim.

"I'll win when I eat its heart, Steve." Billy coughed a bit, and glanced over at the hand.

Shénme. Tā. mā de. What. The. Fuck.

His hand had curved, polished black claws where nails should be, and shimmering golden scales where there should be skin. Not slimy like fish scales, but smooth like a snake's but larger and spade shaped. He put his left hand on it out of curiosity and it the scales felt smooth and hard, like police issued knife-resistant armor hard.

He turned slowly and looked up at Steve.

Billy's blood stopped short.

Steve quirked a weak, almost self deprecating smile.

He had scratches across cheek, blood smeared on his forehead, and his lip was busted a little, but otherwise his face looked the same.

But that was basically it.

Shimmering gold scales wrapped around the nape and sides of his neck. They faded to the same color of champagne that Antoine stole to christen the Camaro with. The scales covered the front of his neck and continued down under the collar of his Tshirt. The gold scales started again down the outside his arms, and his underarms were armored in the champagne color.

He looked damn DELICIOUS in gold. Like…DAMN.

Oh Hindi (Oh no….)

That gold aura wasn't Bayani, it was Steve.

Steve had his back. Steve grounded him so he could fight back. Helped ease the pain.

He said that sappy stuff into STEVE'S ear.

Merde.

"Isn't it cool? Steve really IS a Paladin, just like in our campaign! Only I don't know if he can heal people or not bu—" Billy tuned out Cabbage, and studied Steve.

Mei, when she'd get particularly high on a good strain of reefer, would tell him the myth about a fish that turned into a golden dragon. It was her favorite myth because she had a girl boner for koi fish, thought they were lucky, or auspicious.

Steve reminded him of that myth.

"It first happened when the bats attacked. One swooped down and tried to take a chunk out of my shoulder, but… this happened and I didn't feel a thing. The, uh, scales or armor went away pretty quickly. Then they came back covering my right arm when it threw that ambulance at us." Oh, so that's why he grabbed his left arm with his left all awkward. "It's nothing." Steve was trying his best to sound nonchalant, but the tone in his voice gave him away.

He knew embarrassed and anxious when he heard it. Like what he told Erica, being special wasn't good. It SUCKED and he was probably worried about what Princess Nancy and that Voyeur freak Byers would think if they saw him. Or hell, maybe he even cared what Tommy Harris thought.

Bien sûr (of course) He'd ruin their dumbhick lives if they dared blab anything and get Steve in hot water with the scientists.

"Told you I was usually right: Steve 'Knight in Shining Armor' Harrington." Billy smiled all sassy. He loved being right, almost much he loved good booze.

Oh, they still had that bottle of anejo!

"You called me useless Paper Knight!" Steve retorted, pissy. Good, better than sad.

"Obviously, that was back before when you were soft and preppy, like… Springsteen. Now you're hard and gaudy like Vince Neil." Billy clicked his tongue, and Steve just rolled his and let out a long sigh.

"Oh, fuck you. Pick yourself up." Steve's voice sounded fake-pissed. He pricked down on his shoulder with his claws to pinch him on purpose, but not to cut.

The upwards tilt of his busted lip upwards when he stood up told Billy he liked the joke.

"Compliment, King Steve. Motley Crue's 'Shout at the Devil' is one of the..." Billy remembered and bolted up, almost blacking out from the head rush.

"Billy, slowly." Vivian warned and Billy made a face, trying to remember everything. He swayed a bit and Steve steadied him so he wouldn't stumble. His scales and claws were already fading back into that normal, smooth skin he wanted to leave dark hickeys all over.

"I know what the The Kingpin is. It's a Mul Gwishin, A Korean Water Demon that steals souls. He calls himself the Bulgasari which in Korean means 'unkillable'. They eat metal and control nightmares, though I think here, he can throw metal too. He plays mind games too. He got into my head and tried to take my soul or something straight out of a horror flick." Yeah it was starting to all come back now.

"It tried to take Will's soul too. It possessed him!" Cabbage piped in and Billy clicked his tongue.

"That explains a lot. Poor kid, stuck with that whackadoo family, and a Demon in his head." That earned him a stern look from Sheriff No-salad. "That cowardly puta uses your fears against you. Anything spoken or thought, dead or alive, real or that nerd fantasy shit you geeks do instead of going outside, it can create." Billy tried in vain to rub the drying blood off his neck when Vivian handed him a hanky. Matched the one Little Hickshit gave him earlier.

"Yes. It knows me. My fears, the monsters. He showed me things, like a movie." The creepy girl nodded. Perfect, only the craziest one believes him.

"Bullseye. It's why those bats came, my older brother told me a story about a Bat God called Camaztoz that I mentioned to Vivian. Erica mentioned Alien before you all showed up. It learns." Billy finished and Erica's eyes went wide and she out a hand on her mouth.

"Older bro—" Cabbage's mouth closed.

"Great. Well, any ideas on how to beat something that can read our minds?" Sheriff Marshmallow gruffly lit a cigarette.

"Will was able to see what the Mind Flayer saw, they were like spies for each other." Ok, so maybe Cabbage wasn't so deadweight after all. If he believed this, then Steve would have to hear him out.

"Step ahead of you, Cabbage. I know how to kill it." Billy flashed his teeth, and ran a tongue across them.

"DUSTIN! I'm DUS" Dustin's mouth shut again, as if by magic.

"How?" the creepy girl asked sharp as a whip. Oh, she shut his mouth. Ha.

"It showed me my greatest fears, so I got him to show me his. It has one ugly, gnarly heart underground in that woods in between your—" he pointed to Steve "place, and the Byers'. It even showed me how to make it stop beating." Billy itched for a cigarette, but figured his lungs had enough for one day because he was still short of breath.

"Me and You? We kill it?" Creepy girl pointed to him and herself. Billy shook his head.

"No. Those two." He jutted his chin out and pointed to Erica and Steve. "Erica's gotta use her light and Steve's gotta…I don't know… use steam? Most of my family believes in the Colombian myth that you see black butterflies before someone dies. Here, Erica and Steve make rainbow butterflies that eat the heart. Le contriare." Billy winced, just then realized he had mentioned his family twice and spoke French again.

"ME? I don't even know how this happens yet!" Steve gestured to all of him. Billy fought the urge to be turned on because in that moment he just wanted to jump him.

"I'm learning to control mine better. You'll get it. You're smart, you can fix cars, and sail a damn boat, captain." Billy said matter of fact. He didn't know shit about sailboats, but he knew they were complicated from Baya.

"You joking again?" Steve made a face. With that weirdly sexy gold hand of his, he thumbed towards himself and his eyebrows shot to his hairline, shocked. What, he miss something?

"He's being sarcastic. What does he know anyway?" Cabbage just threw Steve under the bus and Billy didn't like it because he wasn't being sarcastic.

"WRONG." Erica scoffed. "Billy meant it, NERD. Steve's real world smart, like Billy. Billy knows a LOT. He can speak all sorts of languages. Like Chinese, French, Tanga something, Spanish, and what the Poltergeist speaks, Korean." Erica bragged, hand on her hips. She certainly had a mouth on her like Mei.

"No way he speaks all those, pest!"

"Yes way, puta! You heard him!"

"Both of you stop and…I think he does speak them, Dustin. And we're off topic, let's just get inside." Sheriff Salisbury steak pinched the bridge of his nose. Billy narrowed his eyes. Why would he believe Erica? What did he know?

They all began to amble their way back to the hospital.

Vivian was harshly whispering something into Erica's ear. Probably trying to get her to stop cursing in Spanish.

"Loga. You're good. Strong." That made him jump. He forgot that creepy girl knew his last name.

Should he press or just let it slide?

"Whatever." He replied. He didn't have the energy to mess with Special Olympiad.

"C'mon Jane, let's get you bandaged up." Sheriff pulled her away from him. Billy began to think that the Chief was keeping something from him.

Maybe he was just too high strung and paranoid. He needed a shower and a nap. Brush his teeth again. Something fucking normal.

Cook that chili.

"Billy, about what you said earlier..." Steve was putting back on his jacket, and Billy didn't even realize he was still out there. Temptation was too high with them out here by themselves to not shove his tongue down his throat. He picked up his jacket too.

"Gonna have to be a bit more specific." Billy replied honestly.

"I won't let you down either." Time stopped. Billy's heart skipped a few beats and his mouth became sand dry. He was sure this meant SOMETHING more. RIGHT? Billy decided then and there to try to be soft and nice. Maybe Vivian was onto something, maybe he was making things too hard for no damn reason.

"Steve, you're the only thing that gets me up." Billy grinned, winked bright and shifted his hips ever so slightly, but oh so salaciously.

Steve groaned, flushed, and muttered something under his breath. Billy grinned and stretched, popping his joints. He couldn't resist.

He liked working Steve up WAY too much to be NICE.

---

Notes:

ooooooo this was a long time coming!

I made it extra long for the delay.

Not too many notes here. Except the bulgasari, Camaztoz and the gul gwishin are real, i just tweaked a few things about them.

And yeah, bring on ALIEN!

And yes, Steve has a super power. Not even sorry. Not a little bit.

Also, yes, butterflies are a theme. they were a lyric in the song that Erica sang to revive Billy. There is also a reason i keep almost killing him. You'll see.

and what about Bayani, huh?!

Next chapter will focus more on Dustin, Steve, Erica and El. Don't worry, I haven't shelved their characters.

I decided to end this chapter on a high note...because well. we still have one hell of a roller coaster yet to go folks!

thanks for reading!

-TL