Chapter 56: Billy's Observation
Billy
The Camaro sat parked on the ridge overlooking the industrial complex. Steve had given me scouting assignments—watch for demo-dogs, report movement, stay mobile.
Boring work. Until tonight.
The tunnel entrance exploded with violence. Through binoculars, I watched figures emerge—Nancy, Jonathan, Hopper. Running.
Then combat inside. I couldn't see clearly, just shadows and movement. But the sounds—shrieking, impacts, something dying repeatedly.
Steve emerged alone.
Even from distance, even through binoculars, I could see he moved wrong. Too smooth. Too precise. He walked out of that tunnel like death itself, covered in blood, moving like apex predator.
"What the fuck," I whispered.
He'd fought whatever was down there and won. Solo. The guy who'd been teaching me self-defense, who looked half-dead from corruption, had just massacred something in those tunnels.
That wasn't human capability.
I needed answers.
Steve
Found Billy waiting at my house when I returned from the bunker. He sat on my porch, Camaro idling in the driveway.
"We need to talk," he said. No aggression. Just statement of fact.
"About?"
"About what I saw tonight."
My corruption pulsed. Danger sense triggering—not physical threat, but secret exposure.
"What did you see?"
"You. Fighting. Coming out of those tunnels like you'd just walked through massacre and barely noticed." Billy stood, approached. "I watched through binoculars. You moved like nothing I've ever seen. Too fast. Too perfect. Not human."
No point lying. He'd witnessed too much.
"You're right. I'm not. Not fully anymore."
Billy
Steve's admission hit harder than expected. He just... accepted it. No denial, no deflection.
"What are you, then?"
"Corrupted. Evolving. My powers are advancing beyond human limits while the Mind Flayer's presence spreads through my system." He gestured at his chest—black veins covering everything. "I'm becoming something between dimensions. Bridge. Weapon. Monster."
"You're becoming the monster to fight the monsters."
"Yeah. Something like that."
I thought about Neil. About the rage he'd beaten into me. About feeling something dark growing inside, taking over during fights, making me someone I didn't recognize.
"I get it," I said quietly.
"Get what?"
"Feeling something take over. Not being yourself anymore." I leaned against my car. "Neil—my dad—he beat the shit out of me for years. Every time I did something wrong, something he didn't like. Made me this... thing. Angry, violent, barely holding it together. I look in mirror sometimes and don't recognize who's looking back."
Steve's expression softened. "But you fight it."
"Barely. Some days I'm just like him. All rage, no control. Hurting people because that's what I know." I met his corrupted eyes. "You're losing yourself to save everyone. I'm losing myself because someone beat it out of me. Different causes, same result."
Steve
Billy Hargrove—racist, abusive, dangerous Billy—stood on my porch admitting vulnerability I'd never expected from him.
"You're not your father," I said.
"How would you know?"
"Because you're here. Because you're helping despite your fear. Because you warned me about Heather showing up. Because you care about Max even when you pretend not to." I touched the corruption on my chest. "Neil made you violent. But you're choosing what to do with that violence. That's what matters."
"Is it?" Billy's voice cracked. "Because most days I feel like the monster's winning. Like I'm becoming him whether I want to or not."
"Then we're the same. Fighting ourselves as much as external threats."
"Yeah."
We stood in silence. Two people becoming monsters for different reasons, trying desperately to hold onto humanity.
"Steve?" Billy asked. "What happens when we lose? When the monster wins completely?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to keep fighting until then."
"Me too."
Billy
I left Steve's house feeling strange. Not lighter exactly, but... understood. He got it. The struggle, the fear, the sensation of losing yourself piece by piece.
Max was waiting when I got home. She sat on the porch, arms crossed.
"Where were you?"
"Harrington's."
"Why?"
"Talking. About stuff."
She studied me. "You're different lately. Less angry. Still scary, but... different."
"Yeah, well. Seeing literal monsters gives you perspective."
"You respect him now. Steve." Not a question. Statement.
I thought about Steve emerging from those tunnels, covered in blood, becoming inhuman to protect everyone. Thought about him admitting vulnerability, understanding my darkness.
"Yeah. I do."
"Why?"
"Because he's the only thing standing between us and hell. And because he's losing himself doing it." I headed inside. "Stay close to him, Max. Stay close to his freaks. They know what they're doing."
"Billy—"
"Just do it. Please."
I closed the door, leaving her confused on the porch.
Inside, I looked at my reflection. Still saw Neil sometimes, looking back through my eyes. Still felt rage simmering.
But now I knew someone else fighting similar battle. Someone becoming monster for better reasons.
Maybe we both survive this, I thought. Maybe we both stay human enough.
The corruption spreading through Steve suggested otherwise.
But maybe—just maybe—fighting the darkness together made it survivable.
I grabbed Neil's bourbon, poured it down the sink. Small defiance. Small choice.
Choosing something different.
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