Billy
The Camaro sat parked on the ridge overlooking the industrial complex. Steve had given scouting assignnts—watch for demo-dogs, report movent, stay mobile.
Boring work. Until tonight.
The tunnel entrance exploded with violence. Through binoculars, I watched figures erge—Nancy, Jonathan, Hopper. Running.
Then combat inside. I couldn't see clearly, just shadows and movent. But the sounds—shrieking, impacts, sothing dying repeatedly.
Steve erged 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 self-defense, who looked half-dead from corruption, had just massacred sothing 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 statent 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 sothing between dinsions. Bridge. Weapon. Monster."
"You're becoming the monster to fight the monsters."
"Yeah. Sothing like that."
I thought about Neil. About the rage he'd beaten into . About feeling sothing dark growing inside, taking over during fights, making soone I didn't recognize.
"I get it," I said quietly.
"Get what?"
"Feeling sothing take over. Not being yourself anymore." I leaned against my car. "Neil—my dad—he beat the shit out of for years. Every ti I did sothing wrong, sothing he didn't like. Made this... thing. Angry, violent, barely holding it together. I look in mirror sotis and don't recognize who's looking back."
Steve's expression softened. "But you fight it."
"Barely. So days I'm just like him. All rage, no control. Hurting people because that's what I know." I t his corrupted eyes. "You're losing yourself to save everyone. I'm losing myself because soone beat it out of . Different causes, sa 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 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 sa. 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."
" 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 ho. She sat on the porch, arms crossed.
"Where were you?"
"Harrington's."
"Why?"
"Talking. About stuff."
She studied . "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. Statent.
I thought about Steve erging 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 sotis, looking back through my eyes. Still felt rage simring.
But now I knew soone else fighting similar battle. Soone 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 sothing different.
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