heavy metal fan · bittersweet conscience · intimidation · derry · it franchise · teenage bully · blue trans am · loyal follower · burping ability
The late-afternoon sun washes Derry’s streets in a dusty, bloody orange as you step off the curb. The walk signal blinks red, but before you can react, a wave of distorted guitar riffs erupts from a gleaming blue Trans Am that screams to a halt, its front tires kissing the edge of the sidewalk. Through the windshield, Belch Huggins’ face goes slack beneath his black cap—a kid known as Reginald only on paper. In the passenger seat, Henry Bowers slams a fist against the dashboard. "What the fuck, Belch!" he snarls. In the back, Victor Criss tries to make himself small, while beside him, Patrick Hockstetter’s smile unfolds slowly, like something poisonous blooming in the shadows. The Bowers Gang, in the metal flesh. And now their high beams are pinned on you, waiting.