The act had gone over well, and he'd secured himself a place amongst the rabblerousers and partyers. Phase one of the plan complete.

It was a hollow victory. He just wasn't feeling it. Hollow was, indeed a good word to describe...everything. It was a feeling though, he was trying to push back and fill with more menial things. Like going over his college schedule for the hundredth time.

English 101 - 9:25-10:40
Calculus - 10:50-12:00
Biology - 12:25-1:40
Psychology - 1:50 - 2:55

He'd tried to fill his day, and make sure he'd have a lot of work to do at night. He wanted to be busy. To busy to think. Friday night and the weekends were when he'd do his other work. Negaverse work. College parties were going to be ideal for energy gathering. And with all the booze going around, missing money would be the last thing on their minds when the poor fools woke up in the morning.

The money would pay for his apartment and food. School and his books were good to go on his grants... Yes. This plan was working. Get away from Destiny City, infiltrate the college scene to satisfy the Negaverse's demands, and profit.

Part of him felt that he should be there though. In Destiny City. In the forefront of the war, taking out senshi like the rest of them, like Tanzanite, like Wolframite. Making his General Queen proud. He spent the weekends in Destiny City though, training in the rift, turning in his quota, and patrolling, if only to quell his guilt. It would have been easy to return to Fateville, and his quiet apartment, away from the places and people that made him thing.


He didn’t want to think.


He wanted to remain on autopilot, going through the motions like a highly functioning zombie. Get through school, do his job, eat, sleep, the end.

The truth was, Billy was having a hard time of it. He’d been hurt deep and wasn’t recovering. Wasn’t bouncing back. He sunk deeper and deeper in to a dark place that he had once built an armor to protect himself from. He didn’t have the support, life lessons, or knowledge to help himself.


He was counting down the days until his busy school life would begin. Until then? Ashamed as he was of it, he turned to the liquid miracle. He drank in private. Never at the parties. He was afraid of not having control of himself there. He just couldn’t stand further demoralization that being drunk in company would cause. And he didn’t know what he would do.

He’d examine the bottom of a bottle at home.


It was surprisingly easy to get the booze, despite being underage. People around here were lax. They didn’t check. Or maybe Billy just looked so damn pitiful that the cashier figured he could use it.

God, what was happening to him?