Novel & Cerita Billy The Butcher

Only his name and how he found us. "I'm hungry!" Billy announced after we had all woken up from sleep. I sneered at him viciously, and it made him hide his face in fear. Well at least he'd learned one thing since his arrival. He needed to fear me! I don't take shit, and I won't hesitate to remove his limbs if he tries anything stupid. And yes! I'm the muscle in this group — I think. Well, aside for Drax's actual muscles, I think I'm the only one with guts around here.

He isn’t not attractive; he just isn’t what I expected. “Thank you for having me,” I reply, “What now?” Billy smiles and waves at Bert, “Give us an hour?” Bert nods and Billy puts his arm in mine. We walk toward the door and the statue cow moos, making me jump. Billy chuckles, “People love that guy. Have you ever been to something like this?” he asks, holding the door open for me. I chuckle nervously and shake my head, “No, but I am always up for something new.”

whatever the conclusion was, I was going to respect it and allow him do what he wanted to. "Okay, here's the thing. Billy owns a bunch of assassin. That's what his company is about. He picks up young boys and girls from the street or he buys them off from some traders and then he trains them to become assassins working under him. He doesn't pay them well but he does give them food and drink everyday and he believes that enough pay for them."

"Nothing. Just eat your breakfast." "But why the sudden change?" I pressed on, not willing to let it go. "You've never been this...nice." Billy finally looked at me, his eyes meeting mine. "Can't I do something nice for my housemate without being interrogated?" he asked, a playful smirk on his face. I narrowed my eyes at him, not entirely convinced. "Alright, what do you want to talk about?" He chuckled, flipping another pancake onto my plate. "Finish your breakfast first. Then I'll show you something."

In came the very man I was doing my damnest not to fantasize about. Mr Blackwood was wearing a black t-shirt that stretched against his taunt chest, and combat pants. He looked absolutely dashing… He was good enough to eat. “Did the pizza come?” Billy turned around before I could stop him. I let out a small groan of dismay. How could I be so obvious? “Oh, Mr Blackwood, here for pizza?” He greeted him cheerfully.

Boris held up the included drawing for the camera, a blocky scarred head drawn on lined notebook paper in pen, and then looked directly into the camera. “Well, Billy Johnson of 802 Fairmount Street, the big white house with blue shutters and an oak tree out front . . . All you really need to know about me is that I have sharp teeth. Sharp teeth and a taste for blood. Look out for me under your bed. And if I’m not there . . . check under your mother’s!”

Shawn said again. But Billy no longer wanted to listen. He had to focus on what he had to do once he got to the house where Stephanie was being kept prisoner. His priority was to take Stephie out of there, take her somewhere safe, and then... go back and kill Stevens. That scum will never touch another woman again, much less his Stephie. He will send Stevens to hell, his rightful home. The rain stopped coming down by the time Billy arrived on Vallejo Street. He passed slowly by the houses, leaning over the wheel, looking prudently from one side of the street to the other, looking for the number seven. Luckily, he didn’t have to look for too long.

“He said lunch will be ready soon.” I smiled. “Then we should let him cook, right?” She nodded seriously, then ran back toward the living room where the twins were arguing about whose turn it was to choose a cartoon. I walked toward the kitchen, stopping just outside the doorway. Billy stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up, focused and relaxed at the same time. The scent of garlic and butter filled the air. He looked peaceful there, like he belonged in that space, like the kitchen had always been his. For a moment, I just watched him.

His buddy Billy must have noticed my seething rage because he cut me off way before I could say ‘fuck playing nice to hell’ and really showed Brad just how good of a shot I was. “Let the interrogation rest Frank. You are starting to sound like my wife Joey. All I want is a good drink with old friends and new… and some fucking meat” “Meat you didn’t even season”, the forty-year-old who had been manning the grill like a sentinel said putting the tongs down unceremoniously. “Seasoned not seasoned, no one will tell a difference”, Billy said. “I will”, I said, my mug half empty.

He sits at a table by the window, and I walk up to him with his order on my tray, I place his food on his table. "Here is your order," I said. "Have you eaten yet?" "Not yet, I can only have lunch when my work is done" "What do you mean? Just sit." I sat down in front of him. "You see, customers are still arriving, I have to serve them before lunch," I said, I saw him take his burger and handed it to me. "Eat" “What? This is yours” "It's ours now" Billy said, why is he like this? He made me blush a second time.