Billy "Dr1v35haft" McGuffin

[Dr1v35haft]

((For a little of Billy's backstory, see "His Metal Boy."))

"What're you staring at?"

From the Notes of David Conrads:

William Theodore McGuffin, who has resumed his alias 'Dr1v35haft', is an ex-member of the Freakshow gang. Abducted into the group at the age of fourteen, WTM was discovered by his father two weeks ago, with the assistance of one of our other students, Nennya Drixxen, aka 'Persiflage.' WTM had been serving six of a twelve month sentence in the Zigursky Prison for accessory to kidnapping and two counts of breaking and entering, before he was identified as a minor.

Working with the A.D.A, and Billy's father, I've been able to secure a release for him for 'time served,' in exchange for six months' probation and 500 hours of community service.

His bladed prosthetics have been removed and replaced with the standard supplementary limbs provided to Zigursky inmates. He expresses some frustration with these prosthetics, as the cybernetic pathways running through his nervous system interfere with their working. He is often uncoordinated and clumsy with his prosthetic hands.

WTM claims to have little conscious memory of his time with the Freakshow. Excelsior withdrawal can explain some of this, but I have the suspicion that he remembers more than he claims, at least on a subconscious level.

He takes mixed pleasure in his newfound powers. It seems likely, examining the evidence, that WTM had been slated for a 'promotion' within his gang, from "Swiper" to "Shocker." WTM expressed some distress over this; from what he remembers of Freakshow hierarchy and rites of passage, he probably hurt a lot of people to gain alteration rank. The implants combined with prolonged Excelsior use have altered his physiological state. He can generate strong electrical blasts, but as yet has imperfect control of these powers. He wishes to learn control; he knows his only other choice is to be returned to the Zig.

I have especial concerns about his appearance. Reintegration into society will be difficult; there is no denying he looks 'different.' I'm more concerned with his confrontational and aggressive attitude. Billy's survival methods in Zigursky were ones of protective social camouflage; he often speaks in Freakshow slang and picks fights with people who he feels threaten him.

Treatment method: 1. Psychoanalytic therapy three times a week, two sessions with me and one with a state-appointed recidivism prevention officer. 2. Drug therapy (see medical chart for prescrptions and doses) for Excelsior withdrawal and aggression. 3. Weekly drug tests as part of parole agreement.

If he can make it through the next three weeks, I think there's hope for this boy.

[Dr1v35haft]

My last memory, before waking up, is the face of a woman. She's beautiful. She glows, pale as an angel. I'm floating; I'm at peace. Her face moves closer. I want to kiss her but I can't move. She hovers over me. I want her to take me where she's going. She comes closer, I think it's to kiss me. I keep my eyes open, wanting to see her.

Her teeth are metal; her breath stinks like roadkill, and I jerk half-out of the drugged state I'm in, just in time to see the flexible metal limbs of the meat doctor, my mistaken angel, bending over to cage me. She's a cenobite. She's from hell. Arms hold me down, or maybe straps; in a second the injection hits my vein and I'm riding a tight rail of something very, very excellent. It hits my body like a truck made of pillows. And I can see what's going on. The horror of it is, I don't really mind. She's disgusting, the meat doctor, and her canvas apron is covered with stains. I want to tell her I love her, love what she's doing to me. The sawblade lowers to my left arm... I'm hypnotized, I'm in love with the curving spines whistling through the air. I don't even care when the sound changes, becomes deeper. It takes my right arm off at the shoulder. The blood comes out in pretty spurts before another mechanized arm cauterizes the wound in quick, neat gestures. My arm, fingers still twitching, is tossed over her shoulder. And it's not over yet. There's still the left hand. It comes off at the elbow. And there's more. I can't see it, but I can feel it. New grafts going in. New limbs, all spiked sharp metal. They're a part of me now. This is all very gratifying. I feel the changes happen. And I feel high and aggressive, ready for a fight.

"I don't remember," I say to the state-provided defender. "I don't remember a thing after leaving home." He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose as if it hurts.

The replacement limbs they've given me, here in the Zig, are skeletal metal shells. They're a poor replacement for what I once had. The hands are about as strong as a normal person's fleshy limbs. My cybernetic implants are capable of manipulating them, but they're not the same. I feel that something is missing. They feel light, flimsy--and my control of them is clumsy and unnatural. I feel violated. I feel a loss. I'm not sure if its missing the fleshy parts or for the recurved metal blades I can only half-remember wielding.

The A.D.A has an offer for me, Mr. Suit Man tells me. Two years probation. They tried me as an adult, but there are now extenuating circumstances. There were words like "adolescent imprinting" and "Stockholm Syndrome." Words the Suit Man likes but I don't for the life of me care for. Probation, community service, and time served. I've been in the Zig for six months now. There are conditions, of course. I won't be allowed to resume contact with any member of the 'Show. I'll be tested weekly for illegal drugs, and if so much as a little Excelsior shows up in my system, back in I go.

I think about being free. I wonder what I will do.

I wonder what I'll remember.

[Blitzen]

Hey, hey Billy! Great run in Perez yesterday. You totally showed the clockworks a thing or two, and your zap 'em gave the little can openers a taste of their own medicine. Welcome to St. Joes, catch you around campus!

[Kali Jade]

HEY! Welocme to St Joes! Do you like chips? I have chips... Pepper Jack Doritos....Chili Cheese Fritos.... Dill Chips... a box of spicey Cheese-its I uh found... shhh dont mention that to Jane shes a little touchy... oh and i have some salt and vinegar ones... and cokes.. i have cokes... you want a coke? wheres your locker Ill make sure youre stocked! Oh hey i gotta run lotsa studying to do before exams! ill catch ya later ok?
Ciao!

*giggles* I learned that word today isnt it great Ciao! sounds cute!

[Great Mongoose]

*Sighs* I think Kali had too many of those cokes... Anyway, hey Billy, Welcome to the school.

[Mana Cannon]

Erm Hello Billy...sorry about the cyborg comment the other day in Atlas Plaza. It was a pleasure meeting you and I hope to see you around the school.

Um...I think is where Sam would say "Go Flyers" At the top of her voice...

[Dr1v35haft]

Note: Billy McGuffin is Irish Catholic, which is as Catholic as you can be unless you're Italian. He has a great amount of respect for the nuns at St. Josephs, and attends Mass three times a week over at Our Lady of Perpetual Help, and is thinking about joining the confirmation classes there in order to meet girls.

[Dr1v35haft]

i11 update

Billy's living situation has changed again, and not necessarily for the better.

In the second Rikti Invasion, Billy's childhood home was completely destroyed by dropship bombs in his Talos Island neighborhood. Billy's father had a heart attack, and he stayed in the hospital for several months. Billy was a day student at SJS, one of a few who lived at their parents' homes in Paragon City while attending classes at the school. With his living situation up in the air, Billy moved into a temporary dorm assignment.

His family's never been rich, and now they're poorer than they've ever been. Reconstruction efforts and good friends and neighbors rebuilt his home neighborhood, but his father is still living in a temporary assisted living apartment as he recovers from his illness. They're both scheduled to move back in to a rebuilt home some time next month.

In the meantime, Billy has revived a few of his old Freakshow contacts and done some illegal drinking. He's still a thicknecked mouthbreather of a guy, and completely disgusted with his 'faggy' dorm roommates.

Billy's building up to a crisis point; with his community service hours filled and few good ways of spending his free time, he may find himself getting back into the same kinds of trouble that landed him in the Zig in the first place.

[Dr1v35haft]

Update:

A few months after moving into a new home with his father, Billy's dad died of a heart attack, his second. Billy was able to be there with his father and receive his father's blessing. After the funeral, Billy moved back into school housing. Less than a week after moving back on campus, Billy was put into an untenable position by Detective Pleasaunce: either go undercover and help the PPD track down and eliminate the Meat Doctor known as Bonespur (the Meat doctor responsible for Billy's augmentations) or go back to the Zig and rot there indefinitely, thanks to some blackmail material Pleasaunce collected. Billy chose the lesser of two evils.

Meanwhile, the Powers That Be, specifically Sir Winston, Gemini, Dr. Conrads, and Billy's home church priest were discussing how best to help one of SJS's most troubled students. Sir Winston and Dr. Conrads believed that they should step in and protect Billy from any more interference from either the PPD or the Freakshow. Gemini and Father Patrick felt that even though the tasks and temptations put before him were large, that Billy needed to take the path before him. Gemini and Father Patrick won the argument.

For a few months, Billy worked at McGuffin's Garage as a private contractor, using his father's old business as a tune-up-shop and workroom for creating, sharpening, and fine-tuning impressive pieces of Freakshow weaponry. The only person who kept an eye on him was Sam, worried that Billy was slowly getting in over his head.

Two days ago, Billy disappeared.

There are some indications that Billy left under his own volition: his dorm room was neatly organized, he took his shop tools and his Freakshow clothing and armor, and he left Sam his copy of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, bookmarked to this page:


So rode Sir Gawain through the realm of Logres, on an errand that he held for no jest.
Often he lay companionless at night, and must lack the fare that he liked.
No comrade had he save his steed, and none save God with whom to take counsel.
At length he drew nigh to the wilderness of Wirral,
where but few dwell who love God and man of true heart.
And ever he asked, as he fared, of all whom he met,
if they had heard any tidings of a Green Knight in the country thereabout, or of a Green Chapel?
And all answered him, Nay, never in their lives had they seen any man of such a hue.
And the knight wended his way by many a strange road and many a rugged path,
and the fashion of his countenance changed full often.