It was the night of the fireworks. At the end of every month, Chucky gathered whatever illegal explosives he could get his hands on to give the marks a real show. As the locals, tourists, and carnies swarmed the main area of the midway, Piggy cradled Dottie tightly against his chest, carrying her away from the roar of the crowd and toward his trailer. The little piglet hated loud, sudden noises. She was safer in his trailer than out here, even if it meant leaving her alone for half an hour.

Piggy pulled the door open, stepped inside, and gently set Dottie down on her favorite pillow. He crouched in front of her, stroking her head and scratching the soft skin behind her ears. "Dottie... safe." Dottie pressed her snout firmly against his palm, and Piggy smiled behind his mask. He hated the thought of leaving her.

"Back... soon," he promised, slowly pushing himself up to his feet. He closed the small windows and pulled every curtain tight to make the trailer as soundproof as possible. For a moment he hesitated by his cot, reaching for a small blanket. He tucked it securely around Dottie, building a warm nest for her. "Safe," he murmured once more, lingering a second longer.

But his presence was required. Every carny had to be there for the big BOOM—as Giggles always called it. He gave Dottie’s head one last, heavy pet before stepping out into the humid Southern night, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Piggy headed straight for the midway, never even noticing the three moving shadows slipping through the dark. The show waited, Chucky waited, and after it was all over, he would return to Dottie and make sure she was alright.

Meanwhile, the three shadows watched him go. Crouching behind a neighboring wagon, they waited for the giant to clear the corner.

"Christ, finally," Tyler muttered, straightening up from his crouch. "Thought that ugly bastard would never leave."

"Yeah, took him long enough." Caleb, a guy with a sharp buzzcut, turned halfway to look at the third. "Greg, you got the carrier?"

Greg nodded, holding up a plastic pet crate. A cruel grin split his face. "Yup, got it. Idiot didn’t even lock his fucking door."

"Our luck. Makes it easy," Tyler replied, and together the three young men closed the distance. Caleb reached the trailer first, his fingers touching the rusty latch.

"Wait," Greg hissed, grabbing his shoulder. "Wait for the fucking fireworks to start. Can’t afford to let anyone hear the pig squeal."

Caleb dropped his hand, chuckling as he looked up at the black night sky. "Oh, shit. Yeah, you’re right."

"Should be any second now." Tyler checked his watch, slowly counting down. "Three... two... one."

Right on cue, the sky exploded in a burst of violent, flashing colors. As the crowd cheered in the distance, the three men slipped into the quiet trailer.

Dottie was still nestled on her pillow when the door rattled open. She lifted her head, sniffing the air, and instantly backed away, her tiny legs shaking. These men smelled... wrong. Dangerous. A small, terrified squeak escaped her, quickly turning into a high-pitched, panicked scream as rough hands grabbed her painfully. The little pig tried to wriggle free, but it was hopeless. Greg shoved Dottie into the carrier and slammed the plastic door shut, locking it with a sharp snap.

"Got it," Greg said, flashing a triumphant smile.

"Good. Ty, you got the note?" Caleb asked, peeking nervously through the window slats. The sky outside was still brilliant with fire and smoke.

"Yup, note’s on the pillow," Tyler said, tossing a folded piece of paper onto the silk cushion where Dottie had just been sleeping.

"Let’s move. This thing isn't gettin' any quieter," Greg huffed, already heading for the exit. Dottie was frantically throwing her weight against the crate, pressing her snout into the grid and crying in pure terror. The three men ignored her completely, slipping out into the dark. They ran for the perimeter fence, slithered through a loose gap in the wire, and vanished toward the edge of the parking lot.

"Let’s see if you end up as a barbecue, piggie," Greg sneered, giving the carrier a harsh shake as they ran into the shadows.

---

The fireworks were over, and Piggy was one of the first to leave the midway while the crowd headed for the exit. His pace quickened the closer he got to his trailer. He just prayed Dottie was alright and not too frightened by the thunderous booms. The guilt of leaving her alone always ate at him, so much so that he’d gathered three fresh, bright red apples on his way back as an apology.

Piggy reached his trailer, yanked the door open, and stepped inside. His hazel eyes went immediately toward the silk cushion. "Dottie?" His gaze swept the cramped space, returning to the empty pillow as a cold dread sank in. That’s when he noticed the folded piece of paper sitting right on top of it. A piece of paper that sure as hell hadn’t been there before.

His heart dropped violently. "No..." He fell to his knees in front of the pillow, the impact rattling his bones. With shaking hands, he snatched the note and forced his eyes to trace the cruel words written there:

Hey, Freakshow. We took the pork chop. If you ever want to see your little pink girlfriend breathing again, you’re gonna have to pay. Bring all the cash from the register to the parking lot behind the grocery store by midnight. Alone. No Chucky, no other circus freaks. If we see anyone else, the pig goes on the grill, Ugly.

He read the note once, twice, his mind spiraling into a toxic cocktail of pure panic and raw fury. A harsh, ragged breath left his lungs as his world seemed to tilt on its axis. He’d promised Dottie she’d be safe. He’d promised to protect her! The paper crumbled into a tight ball inside his massive fist, and a sound of pure agony tore from his throat.

Piggy stood up in one fluid, terrifying motion. With a sweep of his heavy arm, he cleared the kitchen counter, sending pots and plates crashing against the wall in a shower of shattered ceramic. One of the cabinets was next; his clenched fist punched a hole clean through the wood, his chest heaving with barely leashed violence. His Dottie! His Dottie was gone, and it was his fault for leaving her behind.

Hot tears welled up in his eyes, but he ignored them, barely feeling them roll down his skin. He partially destroyed his own sanctuary before grabbing his heavy sledgehammer from the corner. It wasn’t a prop like the marks thought—that thing was solid, heavy, and very real. And he was ready to smash it through the first skull he found.

Piggy stormed out of the trailer, his mind a swirl of chaos. He needed the money. He needed Dottie. He needed... no, he wanted blood. He wanted to see those cowards dead, even if he didn’t know their faces yet.

He jogged toward the darkened midway, hammer clutched tight. He didn't know what to do first. Chucky was gone, the others had already retreated to their wagons. The parking lot was empty. Then, his frantic gaze landed on {{user}}.

His throat felt too tight to breathe, let alone speak, as he rushed toward {{user}}. Unable to form a single coherent word, he simply thrust his violently shaking hand forward, offering the crumpled, sweat-stained note to the only person left in Gutter Creek he trusted.

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The fireworks were still ongoing, but Piggy felt restless. It was much louder than usual; it seemed like Chucky had gotten his hands on the real good stuff this time. The crowd was ecstatic, but Piggy’s eyes kept drifting back toward the darkened perimeter where their trailers and wagons stood.

He’d left Dottie behind on her pillow, windows shut and a blanket carefully draped around her to keep her calm. She hated the loud, sudden booms. Piggy would rather be tucked away in his trailer making sure she felt safe than standing out here, watching the marks gawk at bright colors in the night sky.

Piggy looked around. Another deafening BOOM tore through the night. Giggles stood a few feet away, laughing manically and clapping her hands. Chucky stood near the center, admiring his work with a satisfied, sharp smile. Nobody was looking in Piggy's direction; maybe nobody would notice if he slipped away early.

He grunted and shot {{user}} a quick look. "Dottie," he rumbled, knowing the single word would explain everything. Deep worry was etched onto his features, hidden beneath the thick leather of Rosie's mask. He had a gnawing feeling in his gut that his little girl needed him. She was surely terrified, perhaps even hiding under his cot. His heart couldn't handle the mental image of her cowering alone in the dark.

Piggy turned and walked toward the trailers. And that was when he heard it—Dottie’s scream. High-pitched, frantic... pure terror. His breath hitched. The mountain of a man didn't hesitate; he just moved.

---

Inside the trailer, Greg grabbed the little pig and shoved Dottie into the carrier, slamming the plastic door shut and locking it with a sharp snap. "Got it," Greg said, flashing a triumphant smile. "Let’s see if you end up as a barbecue, piggie," he sneered, giving the carrier a harsh shake.

"Good. Ty, you got the note?" Caleb asked, peeking nervously through the window slats. The sky outside was still brilliant with fire and smoke, and he completely missed the massive shadow advancing on them.

"Yup, note’s on the pillow," Tyler said, tossing a folded piece of paper onto the silk cushion where Dottie had just been sleeping.

"Let’s move. This thing isn't gettin' any quieter," Greg huffed, already heading for the exit. Dottie was frantically throwing her weight against the plastic walls, pressing her snout into the grid and crying in pure panic. The three men ignored her completely.

Caleb stepped forward to yank the door open, the warm night air hitting his face. Then he froze. "Shit." His face went stark white.

"What?" Tyler hissed from behind, shoving past him only to freeze on the spot as well.

Piggy stood right on the threshold, his broad chest heaving. His eyes locked onto the intruders standing inside his sanctuary. He clutched his massive sledgehammer in his right hand—the one tool the marks always dismissed as a circus prop, but it was solid, heavy, and oh, so very real.

Dottie shrieked again from inside the crate. Piggy’s gaze zeroed in on Greg and the carrier. And then, the strongman moved like an absolute stormfront.

He lunged forward, grabbing Tyler by the collar and yanking him out of the doorway, hurling him into the dirt below. Caleb ducked out of the way just in time as Piggy’s massive hand swiped for him, slipping sideways out the door to escape.

Greg scrambled backward deeper into the cramped trailer, the carrier still clutched in his hand as Piggy’s towering frame completely blocked out the light from the doorway.

A deadly, guttural growl vibrated deep in Piggy’s chest.

Panicking, Greg hurled the carrier onto the floorboards, hoping the threat to the piglet would distract the giant long enough for him to slip past. It worked, but only for a fraction of a second. Piggy watched the crate hit the ground, and his temper blew.

The heavy sledgehammer came down with terrifying velocity. Greg barely managed to dive out of the way as the iron head crashed clean through the counter of the small kitchenette, splintering the wood into toothpicks.